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Best Famous Outstrip Poems

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

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Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley | Create an image from this poem

Ode to the West Wind

O WILD West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being¡ª 
Thou from whose unseen presence the leaves dead 
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, 
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, 
Pestilence-stricken multitudes!¡ªO thou 5 
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed 
The wing¨¨d seeds, where they lie cold and low, 
Each like a corpse within its grave, until 
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow 
Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill 10 
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) 
With living hues and odours plain and hill¡ª 
Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere¡ª 
Destroyer and Preserver¡ªhear, O hear! 

Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's commotion, 15 
Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, 
Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, 
Angels of rain and lightning! they are spread 
On the blue surface of thine airy surge, 
Like the bright hair uplifted from the head 20 
Of some fierce M?nad, ev'n from the dim verge 
Of the horizon to the zenith's height¡ª 
The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge 
Of the dying year, to which this closing night 
Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre, 25 
Vaulted with all thy congregated might 
Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere 
Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst:¡ªO hear! 

Thou who didst waken from his summer-dreams 
The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, 30 
Lull'd by the coil of his crystalline streams, 
Beside a pumice isle in Bai?'s bay, 
And saw in sleep old palaces and towers 
Quivering within the wave's intenser day, 
All overgrown with azure moss, and flowers 35 
So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou 
For whose path the Atlantic's level powers 
Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below 
The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear 
The sapless foliage of the ocean, know 40 
Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear 
And tremble and despoil themselves:¡ªO hear! 

If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; 
If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; 
A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share 45 
The impulse of thy strength, only less free 
Than thou, O uncontrollable!¡ªif even 
I were as in my boyhood, and could be 
The comrade of thy wanderings over heaven, 
As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed 50 
Scarce seem'd a vision,¡ªI would ne'er have striven 
As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need. 
O lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! 
I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! 
A heavy weight of hours has chain'd and bow'd 55 
One too like thee¡ªtameless, and swift, and proud. 

Make me thy lyre, ev'n as the forest is: 
What if my leaves are falling like its own! 
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies 
Will take from both a deep autumnal tone, 60 
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, 
My spirit! be thou me, impetuous one! 
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe, 
Like wither'd leaves, to quicken a new birth; 
And, by the incantation of this verse, 65 
Scatter, as from an unextinguish'd hearth 
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! 
Be through my lips to unawaken'd earth 
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind, 
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? 70 


Written by Ben Jonson | Create an image from this poem

Ode to Sir William Sidney, on His Birthday

  

XIV. — ODE TO SIR WILLIAM SIDNEY, ON HIS BIRTH-DAY. 

                       Some sing,     And all do strive to advance The gladness higher;                Wherefore should I                 Stand silent by,                     Who not the least,    That I may tell to SIDNEY what                        This day                        Doth say,     And he may think on that Which I do tell;                When all the noise                 Of these forced joys,                     Are fled and gone,

    Are justly summ'd, that make you man;                       Your vow                        Must now     Strive all right ways it can, T' outstrip your peers :                Since he doth lack                 Of going back                     Little,  whose will

    Of nobles' virtue, shew in you ;                       Your blood                        So good     And great, must seek for new, And study more :                Not weary, rest                 On what's deceas't.                     For they, that swell

    Whose nephew, whose grandchild you are ;                       And men                        Will then     Say you have follow'd far, When well begun :                Which must be now,                 They teach you how,                     And he that stays

    If with this truth you be inspired ;                       So may                        This day     Be more, and long desired ;And with the flame                 Of love be bright,                 As with the light                     Of bonfires !  then

    And some do drink, and some do dance,                        Some ring,                        Some sing,     And all do strive to advance The gladness higher;                Wherefore should I                 Stand silent by,                     Who not the least,
Written by George Herbert | Create an image from this poem

Grace

 My stock lies dead and no increase
Doth my dull husbandry improve: 
O let thy graces without cease
Drop from above! 

If still the sun should hide his face, 
Thy house would but a dungeon prove, 
Thy works, night's captives: O let grace
Drop from above! 

The dew doth ev'ry morning fall; 
And shall the dew outstrip thy dove? 
The dew, for which grass cannot call, 
Drop from above.

Death is still working like a mole, 
And digs my grave at each remove: 
Let grace work too, and on my soul
Drop from above.

Sin is still hammering my heart
Unto a hardness, void of love: 
Let suppling grace, to cross his art, 
Drop from above.

O come! for thou dost know the way.
Or if to me thou wilt not move, 
Remove me, where I need not say, 
'Drop from above.'
Written by John Donne | Create an image from this poem

The Dissolution

 She's dead; and all which die
To their first elements resolve;
And we were mutual elements to us,
And made of one another.
My body then doth hers involve,
And those things whereof I consist hereby
In me abundant grow, and burdenous,
And nourish not, but smother.
My fire of passion, sighs of air,
Water of tears, and earthly sad despair,
Which my materials be,
But near worn out by love's security,
She, to my loss, doth by her death repair,
And I might live long wretched so
But that my fire doth with my fuel grow.
Now as those Active Kings
Whose foreign conquest treasure brings,
Receive more, and spend more, and soonest break:
This (which I am amazed that I can speak)
This death hath with my store
My use increased.
And so my soul more earnestly released
Will outstrip hers; as bullets flown before
A latter bullet may o'ertake, the powder being more.
Written by Andrew Barton Paterson | Create an image from this poem

The Lay of the Motor-Car

 We're away! and the wind whistles shrewd 
In our whiskers and teeth; 
And the granite-like grey of the road 
Seems to slide underneath. 
As an eagle might sweep through the sky, 
So we sweep through the land; 
And the pallid pedestrians fly 
When they hear us at hand. 
We outpace, we outlast, we outstrip! 
Not the fast-fleeing hare, 
Nor the racehorses under the whip, 
Nor the birds of the air 
Can compete with our swiftness sublime, 
Our ease and our grace. 
We annihilate chickens and time 
And policemen and space. 

Do you mind that fat grocer who crossed? 
How he dropped down to pray 
In the road when he saw he was lost; 
How he melted away 
Underneath, and there rang through the fog 
His earsplitting squeal 
As he went -- Is that he or a dog, 
That stuff on the wheel?



Book: Reflection on the Important Things