Best Famous Passé Poems

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

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• All Famous Passé Poems

Written by Guillaume Apollinaire | Le Pont Mirabeau Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine Et nos amours Faut-il qu'il m'en souvienne La joie venait toujours après la peine. Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure Les jours s'en vont je demeure Les mains dans les mains restons face à face Tandis que sous Le pont de nos bras passe Des éternels regards l'onde si lasse Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure Les jours s'en vont je demeure L'amour s'en va comme cette eau courante L'amour s'en va Comme la vie est lente Et comme l'Espérance est violente Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure Les jours s'en vont je demeure Passent les jours et passent les semaines Ni temps passé Ni les amours reviennent Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine

Written by Dimitris P Kraniotis | Les non et les zéro La nuit qui a suicidé les moments infinis que je voudrais vivre, a passé sans que j’allume la bougie que je voudrais qu’elle chauffe les «non» et les «zéro».

Written by Victor Hugo | Regret ("Oui, le bonheur bien vite a passé.") {Bk. V. ii., February, 1821.} Yes, Happiness hath left me soon behind! Alas! we all pursue its steps! and when We've sunk to rest within its arms entwined, Like the Phoenician virgin, wake, and find Ourselves alone again. Then, through the distant future's boundless space, We seek the lost companion of our days: "Return, return!" we cry, and lo, apace Pleasure appears! but not to fill the place Of that we mourn always. I, should unhallowed Pleasure woo me now, Will to the wanton sorc'ress say, "Begone! Respect the cypress on my mournful brow, Lost Happiness hath left regret—but thou Leavest remorse, alone." Yet, haply lest I check the mounting fire, O friends, that in your revelry appears! With you I'll breathe the air which ye respire, And, smiling, hide my melancholy lyre When it is wet with tears. Each in his secret heart perchance doth own Some fond regret 'neath passing smiles concealed;— Sufferers alike together and alone Are we; with many a grief to others known, How many unrevealed! Alas! for natural tears and simple pains, For tender recollections, cherished long, For guileless griefs, which no compunction stains, We blush; as if we wore these earthly chains Only for sport and song! Yes, my blest hours have fled without a trace: In vain I strove their parting to delay; Brightly they beamed, then left a cheerless space, Like an o'erclouded smile, that in the face Lightens, and fades away. Fraser's Magazine