Get Your Premium Membership

Best Famous Darks Poems

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

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

See Also:
Written by Robert Browning | Create an image from this poem

In Three Days

 I.
So, I shall see her in three days And just one night, but nights are short, Then two long hours, and that is morn.
See how I come, unchanged, unworn! Feel, where my life broke off from thine, How fresh the splinters keep and fine,--- Only a touch and we combine! II.
Too long, this time of year, the days! But nights, at least the nights are short.
As night shows where ger one moon is, A hand's-breadth of pure light and bliss, So life's night gives my lady birth And my eyes hold her! What is worth The rest of heaven, the rest of earth? III.
O loaded curls, release your store Of warmth and scent, as once before The tingling hair did, lights and darks Outbreaking into fairy sparks, When under curl and curl I pried After the warmth and scent inside, Thro' lights and darks how manifold--- The dark inspired, the light controlled As early Art embrowns the gold.
IV.
What great fear, should one say, ``Three days ``That change the world might change as well ``Your fortune; and if joy delays, ``Be happy that no worse befell!'' What small fear, if another says, ``Three days and one short night beside ``May throw no shadow on your ways; ``But years must teem with change untried, ``With chance not easily defied, ``With an end somewhere undescried.
'' No fear!---or if a fear be born This minute, it dies out in scorn.
Fear? I shall see her in three days And one night, now the nights are short, Then just two hours, and that is morn.


Written by Robert William Service | Create an image from this poem

Allouette

 Singing larks I saw for sale -
(Ah! the pain of it)
Plucked and ready to impale
On a roasting spit;
Happy larks that summer-long
Stormed the radiant sky,
Adoration in their song .
.
.
Packed to make a pie.
> Hark! from springs of joy unseen Spray their jewelled notes.
Tangle them in nets of green, Twist their lyric throats; Clip their wings and string them tight, Stab them with a skewer, All to tempt the apptite Of the epicure.
Shade of Shelley! Come not nigh This accursèd spot, Where for sixpence one can buy Skylarks for the pot; Dante, paint a blacker hell, Plunge in deeper darks Wretches who can slay and sell Sunny-hearted larks.
You who eat, you are the worst: By internal pains, May you ever be accurst Who pluck these poor remains.
But for you wingèd joy would soar To heaven from the sod: In ecstasy a lark would pour Its gratitude to God.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things