Best Famous Aflutter Poems
Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Aflutter poems. This is a select list of the best famous Aflutter poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Aflutter poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of aflutter poems.
Search and read the best famous Aflutter poems, articles about Aflutter poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Aflutter poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.
See Also:
Written by
Robert Frost |
The line-storm clouds fly tattered and swift.
The road is forlorn all day,
Where a myriad snowy quartz stones lift,
And the hoof-prints vanish away.
The roadside flowers, too wet for the bee,
Expend their bloom in vain.
Come over the hills and far with me,
And be my love in the rain.
The birds have less to say for themselves
In the wood-world's torn despair
Than now these numberless years the elves,
Although they are no less there:
All song of the woods is crushed like some
Wild, earily shattered rose.
Come, be my love in the wet woods, come,
Where the boughs rain when it blows.
There is the gale to urge behind
And bruit our singing down,
And the shallow waters aflutter with wind
From which to gather your gown.
What matter if we go clear to the west,
And come not through dry-shod?
For wilding brooch shall wet your breast
The rain-fresh goldenrod.
Oh, never this whelming east wind swells
But it seems like the sea's return
To the ancient lands where it left the shells
Before the age of the fern;
And it seems like the time when after doubt
Our love came back amain.
Oh, come forth into the storm and rout
And be my love in the rain.
|
Written by
Robert William Service |
The poppies that in Spring I sow,
In rings of radiance gleam and glow,
Like lords and ladies gay.
A joy are they to dream beside,
As in the air of eventide
They flutter, dip and sway.
For some are scarlet, some are gold,
While some in fairy flame unfold,
And some are rose and white.
There's pride of breeding in their glance,
And pride of beauty as they dance
Cotillions of delight.
Yet as I lift my eyes I see
Their swarthy kindred wild and free.
Who flaunt it in the field.
"Begone, you Romanies!" I say,
"Lest you defile this bright array
Whose loveliness I shield.
"
My poppies are a sheen of light;
They take with ecstasy the sight,
And hold the heart elate .
.
.
.
Yet why do I so often turn
To where their outcast brothers burn
With passion at my gate?
My poppies are my joy and pride;
Yet wistfully I gaze outside
To where their sisters yearn;
Their blowzy crimson cups afire,
Their lips aflutter with desire
To give without return.
My poppies dance a minuet;
Like courtiers in silk they set
My garden all aglow .
.
.
.
Yet O the vagrants at my gate!
The gipsy trulls who peer and wait! .
.
.
Calling the heart they know.
|