Best Famous Bine Poems

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

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

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Written by Thomas Hardy | Create an image from this poem

The Darkling Thrush

I leant upon a coppice gate
     When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
     The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
     Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
     Had sought their household fires. 

The land's sharp features seemed to be
     The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
     The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
     Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
     Seemed fevourless as I.

At once a voice arose among
     The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
     Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
     In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
     Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings
     Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
     Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
     His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
     And I was unaware.

Written by Rudyard Kipling | Create an image from this poem

A Three-Part Song

 I'm just in love with all these three,
The Weald and the Marsh and the Down country.
Nor I don't know which I love the most,
The Weald or the Marsh or the white Chalk coast!

I've buried my heart in a ferny hill,
Twix' a liddle low shaw an' a great high gill.
Oh hop-bine yaller an' wood-smoke blue,
I reckon you'll keep her middling true!

I've loosed my mind for to out and run
On a Marsh that was old when Kings begun.
Oh Romney Level and Brenzett reeds,
I reckon you know what my mind needs!

I've given my soul to the Southdown grass,
And sheep-bells tinkled where you pass.
Oh Firle an' Ditchling an' sails at sea,
I reckon you keep my soul for me!
Written by Rudyard Kipling | Create an image from this poem

The Gipsy Trail

 The white moth to the closing bine,
 The bee to the opened clover,
And the gipsy blood to the gipsy blood
 Ever the wide world over.

Ever the wide world over, lass,
 Ever the trail held true,
Over the world and under the world,
 And back at the last to you.

Out of the dark of the gorgio camp,
 Out of the grime and the gray
(Morning waits at the end of the world),
 Gipsy, come away!

The wild boar to the sun-dried swamp
 The red crane to her reed,
And the Romany lass to the Romany lad,
 By the tie of a roving breed.

The pied snake to the rifted rock,
 The buck to the stony plain,
And the Romany lass to the Romany lad,
 And both to the road again.

Both to the road again, again!
 Out on a clean sea-track --
Follow the cross of the gipsy trail
 Over the world and back!

Follow the Romany patteran
 North where the blue bergs sail,
And the bows are grey with the frozen spray,
 And the masts are shod with mail.

Follow the Romany patteran
 Sheer to the Austral Light,
Where the besom of God is the wild South wind,
 Sweeping the sea-floors white.

Follow the Romany patteran
 West to the sinking sun,
Till the junk-sails lift through the houseless drift.
 And the east and west are one.

Follow the Romany patteran
 East where the silence broods
By a purple wave on an opal beach
 In the hush of the Mahim woods.

"The wild hawk to the wind-swept sky,
 The deer to the wholesome wold,
And the heart of a man to the heart of a maid,
 As it was in the days of old."

The heart of a man to the heart of a maid --
 Light of my tents, be fleet.
Morning waits at the end of the world,
 And the world is all at our feet!
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