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Best Famous Samuel Johnson Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Samuel Johnson poems. This is a select list of the best famous Samuel Johnson poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Samuel Johnson poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Samuel Johnson poems.

Search for the best famous Samuel Johnson poems, articles about Samuel Johnson poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Samuel Johnson poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

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Poems are below...


Written by Billy Collins | Create an image from this poem

Child Development

 As sure as prehistoric fish grew legs
and sauntered off the beaches into forests
working up some irregular verbs for their
first conversation, so three-year-old children
enter the phase of name-calling.
Every day a new one arrives and is added to the repertoire.
You Dumb Goopyhead, You Big Sewerface, You Poop-on-the-Floor (a kind of Navaho ring to that one) they yell from knee level, their little mugs flushed with challenge.
Nothing Samuel Johnson would bother tossing out in a pub, but then the toddlers are not trying to devastate some fatuous Enlightenment hack.
They are just tormenting their fellow squirts or going after the attention of the giants way up there with their cocktails and bad breath talking baritone nonsense to other giants, waiting to call them names after thanking them for the lovely party and hearing the door close.
The mature save their hothead invective for things: an errant hammer, tire chains, or receding trains missed by seconds, though they know in their adult hearts, even as they threaten to banish Timmy to bed for his appalling behavior, that their bosses are Big Fatty Stupids, their wives are Dopey Dopeheads and that they themselves are Mr.
Sillypants.
Written by Samuel Johnson | Create an image from this poem

One And Twenty

 LONG-EXPECTED one and twenty 
Ling'ring year at last has flown, 
Pomp and pleasure, pride and plenty 
Great Sir John, are all your own.
Loosen'd from the minor's tether, Free to mortgage or to sell, Wild as wind, and light as feather Bid the slaves of thrift farewell.
Call the Bettys, Kates, and Jenneys Ev'ry name that laughs at care, Lavish of your Grandsire's guineas, Show the spirit of an heir.
All that prey on vice and folly Joy to see their quarry fly, Here the gamester light and jolly There the lender grave and sly.
Wealth, Sir John, was made to wander, Let it wander as it will; See the jocky, see the pander, Bid them come, and take their fill.
When the bonny blade carouses, Pockets full, and spirits high, What are acres? What are houses? Only dirt, or wet or dry.
If the Guardian or the Mother Tell the woes of willful waste, Scorn their counsel and their pother, You can hang or drown at last.
Written by Samuel Johnson | Create an image from this poem

On The Death Of Mr. Robert Levet A Practiser In Physic

 CONDEMN'D to Hope's delusive mine,
As on we toil from day to day,
By sudden blasts or slow decline
Our social comforts drop away.
Well tried through many a varying year, See Levet to the grave descend, Officious, innocent, sincere, Of every friendless name the friend.
Yet still he fills affection's eye, Obscurely wise and coarsely kind; Nor, letter'd Arrogance, deny Thy praise to merit unrefined.
When fainting nature call'd for aid, And hov'ring death prepared the blow, His vig'rous remedy display'd The power of art without the show.
In Misery's darkest cavern known, His useful care was ever nigh, Where hopeless Anguish pour'd his groan, And lonely Want retired to die.
No summons mock'd by chill delay, No petty gain disdained by pride; The modest wants of every day The toil of every day supplied.
His virtues walk'd their narrow round, Nor made a pause, nor left a void; And sure th' Eternal Master found The single talent well employ'd.
The busy day, the peaceful night, Unfelt, uncounted, glided by; His frame was firm--his powers were bright, Though now his eightieth year was nigh.
Then with no fiery throbbing pain, No cold gradations of decay, Death broke at once the vital chain, And freed his soul the nearest way.