10 Best Famous Little Angel Poems

Here is a collection of the top 10 all-time best famous Little Angel poems. This is a select list of the best famous Little Angel poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Little Angel poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of little angel poems.

• All Famous Little Angel Poems

 By day you cannot see the sky
For it is up so very high.
You look and look, but it's so blue
That you can never see right through.
But when night comes it is quite plain,
And all the stars are there again.
They seem just like old friends to me,
I've known them all my life you see.
There is the dipper first, and there
Is Cassiopeia in her chair,
Orion's belt, the Milky Way,
And lots I know but cannot say.
One group looks like a swarm of bees,
Papa says they're the Pleiades;
But I think they must be the toy
Of some nice little angel boy.
Perhaps his jackstones which to-day
He has forgot to put away,
And left them lying on the sky
Where he will find them bye and bye.
I wish he'd come and play with me.
We'd have such fun, for it would be
A most unusual thing for boys
To feel that they had stars for toys!

 MY lord, I know your noble ear
 Woe ne’er assails in vain;
Embolden’d thus, I beg you’ll hear
 Your humble slave complain,
How saucy Phoebus’ scorching beams,
 In flaming summer-pride,
Dry-withering, waste my foamy streams,
 And drink my crystal tide. 1


The lightly-jumping, glowrin’ trouts,
 That thro’ my waters play,
If, in their random, wanton spouts,
 They near the margin stray;
If, hapless chance! they linger lang,
 I’m scorching up so shallow,
They’re left the whitening stanes amang,
 In gasping death to wallow.


Last day I grat wi’ spite and teen,
 As poet Burns came by.
That, to a bard, I should be seen
 Wi’ half my channel dry;
A panegyric rhyme, I ween,
 Ev’n as I was, he shor’d me;
But had I in my glory been,
 He, kneeling, wad ador’d me.


Here, foaming down the skelvy rocks,
 In twisting strength I rin;
There, high my boiling torrent smokes,
 Wild-roaring o’er a linn:
Enjoying each large spring and well,
 As Nature gave them me,
I am, altho’ I say’t mysel’,
 Worth gaun a mile to see.


Would then my noble master please
 To grant my highest wishes,
He’ll shade my banks wi’ tow’ring trees,
 And bonie spreading bushes.
Delighted doubly then, my lord,
 You’ll wander on my banks,
And listen mony a grateful bird
 Return you tuneful thanks.


The sober lav’rock, warbling wild,
 Shall to the skies aspire;
The gowdspink, Music’s gayest child,
 Shall sweetly join the choir;
The blackbird strong, the lintwhite clear,
 The mavis mild and mellow;
The robin pensive Autumn cheer,
 In all her locks of yellow.


This, too, a covert shall ensure,
 To shield them from the storm;
And coward maukin sleep secure,
 Low in her grassy form:
Here shall the shepherd make his seat,
 To weave his crown of flow’rs;
Or find a shelt’ring, safe retreat,
 From prone-descending show’rs.


And here, by sweet, endearing stealth,
 Shall meet the loving pair,
Despising worlds, with all their wealth,
 As empty idle care;
The flow’rs shall vie in all their charms,
 The hour of heav’n to grace;
And birks extend their fragrant arms
 To screen the dear embrace.


Here haply too, at vernal dawn,
 Some musing bard may stray,
And eye the smoking, dewy lawn,
 And misty mountain grey;
Or, by the reaper’s nightly beam,
 Mild-chequering thro’ the trees,
Rave to my darkly dashing stream,
 Hoarse-swelling on the breeze.


Let lofty firs, and ashes cool,
 My lowly banks o’erspread,
And view, deep-bending in the pool,
 Their shadow’s wat’ry bed:
Let fragrant birks, in woodbines drest,
 My craggy cliffs adorn;
And, for the little songster’s nest,
 The close embow’ring thorn.


So may old Scotia’s darling hope,
 Your little angel band
Spring, like their fathers, up to prop
 Their honour’d native land!
So may, thro’ Albion’s farthest ken,
 To social-flowing glasses,
The grace be—“Athole’s honest men,
 And Athole’s bonie lasses!”


 Note 1. Bruar Falls, in Athole, are exceedingly picturesque and beautiful; but their effect is much impaired by the want of trees and shrubs.—R. B. [back]