Get Your Premium Membership

Best Famous Rolling Along Poems

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

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

See Also:
Written by William Butler Yeats | Create an image from this poem

The Sad Shepherd

 There was a man whom Sorrow named his Friend,
And he, of his high comrade Sorrow dreaming,
Went walking with slow steps along the gleaming
And humming Sands, where windy surges wend:
And he called loudly to the stars to bend
From their pale thrones and comfort him, but they
Among themselves laugh on and sing alway:
And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend
Cried out, Dim sea, hear my most piteous story.
! The sea Swept on and cried her old cry still, Rolling along in dreams from hill to hill.
He fled the persecution of her glory And, in a far-off, gentle valley stopping, Cried all his story to the dewdrops glistening.
But naught they heard, for they are always listening, The dewdrops, for the sound of their own dropping.
And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend Sought once again the shore, and found a shell, And thought, I will my heavy story tell Till my own words, re-echoing, shall send Their sadness through a hollow, pearly heart; And my own talc again for me shall sing, And my own whispering words be comforting, And lo! my ancient burden may depart.
Then he sang softly nigh the pearly rim; But the sad dweller by the sea-ways lone Changed all he sang to inarticulate moan Among her wildering whirls, forgetting him.


Written by Omar Khayyam | Create an image from this poem

I have swept the sill of the tavern with my hair. Yes,

I have swept the sill of the tavern with my hair. Yes,
I have given up reflecting upon the good and the bad
in this world and the next. I saw them, like two bowls,
rolling in a ditch, when I was sleeping overcome with
wine, and I no more occupied myself with them than if
I had seen a grain of barley rolling along.
370

Book: Shattered Sighs