Famous Ben Poems by Famous Poets
These are examples of famous Ben poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous ben poems. These examples illustrate what a famous ben poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).
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by
Ben Jonson
Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much...Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
XLVIII. ? ON MUNGRIL ESQUIRE. His bought arms MUNG not liked ; for his first day Of bearing them in field, he threw 'em away : And hath no honor lost, our duellists say....Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
XXXVII. — ON CHEVERIL THE LAWYER. No cause, nor client fat, will CHEVERIL leese, But as they come, on both sides he takes fees, And pleaseth both : for while he melts his grease, For this ; that wins, for whom he holds his peace....Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
LXXIX. — TO ELIZABETH, COUNTESS OF RUTLAND. That poets are far rarer births than king, Your noblest father proved; like whom, before, Or then, or since, about our Muses' springs, Came not that soul exhausted so their store. Hence was it, that the Destinies decreed (Save that most masculine issue of his brain) No male unto him; who could so exceed...Read more of this...
by
Henry Lawson
Jack Denver died on Talbragar when Christmas Eve began,
And there was sorrow round the place, for Denver was a man;
Jack Denver's wife bowed down her head -- her daughter's grief was wild,
And big Ben Duggan by the bed stood sobbing like a child.
But big Ben Duggan saddled up, and galloped fast and far,
To raise...Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
XXV. ? ON SIR VOLUPTUOUS BEAST. While BEAST instructs his fair and innocent wife, In the past pleasures of his sensual life, Telling the motions of each petticoat, And how his Ganymede mov'd, and how his goat, And now her hourly her own cucquean makes, In varied shapes, which for his lust she takes : What doth...Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
I now think Love is rather deaf than blind,
For else it could not be
That she,
Whom I adore so much, should so slight me
And cast my love behind.
I'm sure my language to her was as sweet,
And every close did meet
In sentence of as subtle feet,
As hath the youngest He
That sits in shadow of Apollo's tree.
O, but my conscious fears,
That fly...Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
XVI. ? TO BRAINHARDY. HARDY, thy brain is valiant, 'tis confest, Thou more ; That with it every day dar'st jest Thy self into fresh brawls : when, call'd upon, Scarce thy week's swearing brings thee off, of one. So in short time, thou art in arrearage grown Some hundred quarrels, yet dost thou fight none ; Nor need'st thou :...Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
LXXIII. — TO FINE GRAND. What is't, FINE GRAND, makes thee my friendship fly, Or take an Epigram so fearfully, As 'twere a challenge, or a borrower's letter: The world must know your greatness is my debtor.Imprimis, Grand, you owe me for a jest I lent you, on mere acquaintance, at a feast.Item, a tale or two some fortnight after, That...Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
LXXVII. ? TO ONE THAT DESIRED ME NOT TO NAME HIM. Be safe, nor fear thyself so good a fame, That, any way, my book should speak thy name : For, if thou shame, rank’d with my friends, to go, I am more ashamed to have thee thought my foe. ...Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
VII. — SONG. — THAT WOMEN ARE BUT MEN'SSHADOWS. Let her alone, she will court you. Say are not women truly, then, 5 Styl'd but the shadows of us men ? At morn and even shades are longest ; At noon they are or short, or none : So men at weakest, they are strongest,...Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
LXII. ? TO FINE LADY WOULD-BE. Fine madam WOULD-BE, wherefore should you fear, That love to make so well, a child to bear ? The world reputes you barren : but I know Your pothecary, and his drug, says no. Is it the pain affrights ? that's soon forgot. Or your complexion's loss ? you have a pot, That...Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
LXX. — TO WILLIAM ROE. When nature bids us leave to live, 'tis late Then to begin, my ROE! He makes a state In life, that can employ it; and takes hold On the true causes, ere they grow to old. Delay is bad, doubt worse, depending worst; Each best day of our life escapes us, first: Then, since we, more...Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
LII. — TO CENSORIOUS COURTLING. COURTLING, I rather thou should'st utterly Dispraise my work, than praise it frostily : When I am read, thou feign'st a weak applause, As if thou wert my friend, but lack'dst a cause. This but thy judgment fools : the other way Would both thy folly and thy spite betray....Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
Drinke to me, onely, with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kisse but in the cup,
And Ile not looke for wine.
The thirst, that from the soule doth rise,
Doth aske a drinke divine:
But might I of Jove's Nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee, late, a rosie wreath,...Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
LXVI. — TO SIR HENRY CARY. That neither fame, nor love might wanting be To greatness, CARY, I sing that and thee ; Whose house, if it no other honor had, In only thee, might be both great and glad : Who, to upbraid the sloth of this our time, Durst valor make, almost, but not a crime. Which deed I...Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
XX. ? TO THE SAME. [SIR COD THE PERFUMED.] The expense in odors, is a most vain sin, Except thou could'st, sir Cod, wear them within....Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
XVII. ? TO THE LEARNED CRITIC. May others fear, fly, and traduce thy name, As guilty men do magistrates ; glad I, That wish my poems a legitimate fame, Charge them, for crown, to thy sole censure hie. And but a sprig of bays, given by thee, Shall outlive garlands, stol'n from the chaste tree....Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
THOUGH beauty be the mark of praise
And yours of whom I sing be such
As not the world can praise too much
Yet 'tis your Virtue now I raise.
A virtue like allay so gone 5
Throughout your form as though that move
And draw and conquer all men's love
This subjects you to love of...Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
On My First Daughter by Ben Jonson Here lies, to each her parents' ruth, Mary, the daughter of their youth; Yet all heaven's gifts being heaven's due, It makes the father less to rue. At six months' end, she parted hence With safety of her...Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
XXXI. ? ON BANKS THE USURER. BANKS feel no lameness in his knotty gout, His monies travel for him in and out. And though the soundest legs go every day, He toils to be at hell, as soon as they....Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
Consider this small dust here running in the glass,
By atoms moved;
Could you believe that this the body was
Of one that loved?
And in his mistress' flame, playing like a fly,
Turned to cinders by her eye:
Yes; and in death, as life, unblessed,
To have it expressed,
Even ashes of lovers find no rest....Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
XXXIX. ? ON OLD COLT. For all night-sins, with other wives unknown, COLT now doth daily penance in his own....Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
XXXIV. ? OF DEATH. He that fears death, or mourns it, in the just, Shews of the Resurrection little trust....Read more of this...
by
Ben Jonson
LXVII. — TO THOMAS EARL OF SUFFOLK. Since men have left to do praiseworthy things, Most think all praises flatteries : but truth brings That sound and that authority with her name, As, to be raised by her, is only fame. Stand high, then, HOWARD, high in eyes of men, High in thy blood, thy place ; but highest then, When,...Read more of this...
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