Get Your Premium Membership

Best Famous Sensate Poems

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

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

See Also:
Written by Mary Darby Robinson | Create an image from this poem

Ode to the Moon

 PALE GODDESS of the witching hour;
Blest Contemplation's placid friend; 
Oft in my solitary bow'r,
I mark thy lucid beam
From thy crystal car descend,
Whitening the spangled heath, and limpid sapphire stream.
And oft, amidst the shades of night I court thy undulating light; When Fairies dance around the verdant ring, Or frisk beside the bubbling spring, When the thoughtless SHEPHERD'S song Echoes thro' the silent air, As he pens his fleecy care, Or plods with saunt'ring gait, the dewy meads along.
CHASTE ORB! as thro' the vaulted sky Feath'ry clouds transparent sail; When thy languid, weeping eye, Sheds its soft tears upon the painted vale; As I ponder o'er the floods, Or tread with listless step, th'embow'ring woods, O, let thy transitory beam, Soothe my sad mind, with FANCY'S aëry dream.
Wrapt in REFLECTION, let me trace O'er the vast ethereal space, Stars, whose twinkling fires illume Dark-brow'd NIGHT'S obtrusive gloom; Where across the concave wide; Flaming METEORS swiftly glide; Or along the milky way, Vapours shoot a silvery ray; And as I mark, thy faint reclining head, Sinking on Ocean's pearly bed; Let REASON tell my soul, thus all things fade.
The Seasons change, the "garish SUN" When Day's burning car hath run Its fiery course, no more we view, While o'er the mountain's golden head, Streak'd with tints of crimson hue, Twilight's filmy curtains spread, Stealing o'er Nature's face, a desolating shade.
Yon musky FLOW'R, that scents the earth; The SOD, that gave its odours birth; The ROCK, that breaks the torrent's force; The VALE, that owns its wand'ring course; The woodlands where the vocal throng Trill the wild melodious song; Thirsty desarts, sands that glow, Mountains, cap'd with flaky snow; Luxuriant groves, enamell'd fields, All, all, prolific Nature yields, Alike shall end; the sensate HEART, With all its passions, all its fire, Touch'd by FATE'S unerring dart, Shall feel its vital strength expire; Those eyes, that beam with FRIENDSHIP'S ray, And glance ineffable delight, Shall shrink from LIFE'S translucid day, And close their fainting orbs, in DEATH'S impervious night.
Then what remains for mortal pow'r; But TIME'S dull journey to beguile; To deck with joy, the winged hour, To meet its sorrows with a patient smile; And when the toilsome pilgrimage shall end, To greet the tyrant, as a welcome friend.


Written by Mary Darby Robinson | Create an image from this poem

Ode to Eloquence

 HAIL! GODDESS of persuasive art! 
The magic of whose tuneful tongue 
Lulls to soft harmony the wand'ring heart 
With fascinating song; 
O, let me hear thy heav'n-taught strain, 
As thro' my quiv'ring pulses steal 
The mingling throbs of joy and pain, 
Which only sensate minds can feel; 
Ah ! let me taste the bliss supreme, 
Which thy warm touch unerring flings 
O'er the rapt sense's finest strings, 
When GENIUS, darting frown the sky, 
Glances across my wond'ring eye, 
Her animating beam.
SWEET ELOQUENCE! thy mild controul, Awakes to REASON's dawn, the IDIOT soul; When mists absorb the MENTAL sight, 'Tis thine, to dart CREATIVE LIGHT; 'Tis thine, to chase the filmy clouds away, And o'er the mind's deep bloom, spread a refulgent ray.
Nor is thy wond'rous art confin'd, Within the bounds of MENTAL space, For thou canst boast exterior grace, Bright emblem of the fertile mind; Yes; I have seen thee, with persuasion meek, Bathe in the lucid tear, on Beauty's cheek, Have mark'd thee in the downcast eye, When suff'ring Virtue claim'd the pitying sigh.
Oft, by thy thrilling voice subdued, The meagre fiend INGRATITUDE Her treach'rous fang conceals; Pale ENVY hides her forked sting; And CALUMNY, beneath the wing Of dark oblivion steals.
Before thy pure and lambent fire Shall frozen Apathy expire; Thy influence warm and unconfin'd, Shall rapt'rous transports give, And in the base and torpid mind, Shall bid the fine Affections live; When JEALOUSY's malignant dart, Strikes at the fondly throbbing heart; When fancied woes, on every side assail, Thy honey'd accents shall prevail; When burning Passion withers up the brain, And the fix'd lids, the glowing drops sustain, Touch'd by thy voice, the melting eye Shall pour the balm of yielding SYMPATHY.
'Tis thine, with lenient Song to move The dumb despair of hopeless LOVE; Or when the animated soul On Fancy's wing shall soar, And scorning Reason's soft controul, Untrodden paths explore; 'Till by distracting conflicts tost, The intellectual source is lost: E'en then, the witching music of thy tongue Stealing thro' Mis'ry's DARKEST GLOOM, Weaves the fine threads of FANCY's loom, 'Till every slacken'd nerve new strung, Bids renovated NATURE shine, Amidst the fost'ring beams of ELOQUENCE DIVINE.
Written by Mary Darby Robinson | Create an image from this poem

The Adieu to Love

 LOVE, I renounce thy tyrant sway,
I mock thy fascinating art,
MINE, be the calm unruffled day,
That brings no torment to the heart; 
The tranquil mind, the noiseless scene, 
Where FANCY, with enchanting mien, 
Shall in her right-hand lead along 
The graceful patroness of Song;
Where HARMONY shall softly fling 
Her light tones o'er the dulcet string; 
And with her magic LYRE compose 
Each pang that throbs, each pulse that glows; 
Till her resistless strains dispense, 
The balm of blest INDIFFERENCE.
LOVE, I defy thy vaunted pow'r! In still Retirement's sober bow'r I'll rest secure;­no fev'rish pain Shall dart its hot-shafts thro' my brain, No start'ling dreams invade my mind No spells my stagnate pulses bind; No jealous agonies impart Their madd'ning poisons to my heart But sweetly lull'd to placid rest, The sensate tenant of my breast Shall one unshaken course pursue, Such as thy vot'ries never knew.
­ SWEET SOLITUDE ! pure Nature's child, Fair pensive daughter of the wild; Nymph of the Forest; thee I press My weary sick'ning soul to bless; To give my heart the dear repose, That smiles unmov'd at transient woes; That shelter'd from Life's trivial cares, Each calm delicious comfort shares; While conscious rectitude of mind, Blends with each thought a bliss refin'd, And scorning fear's soul-chilling pow'r, Dares court REFLECTION'S dang'rous hour, To scrutinize with cautious art, Each hidden channel of the heart.
­ Ah, gentle maiden, let me stray, Where Innocence for ever gay, Shall lead me to her loveliest bow'rs And crown my brow with thornless flow'rs; And strew the weedy paths of time With Resignation's balm sublime; While Rosy SPRING, shall smiling haste, On light steps o'er the dewy waste, Eager her brightest gems to shed Around my verdant perfum'd bed; And in her train the glowing hours Shall bathe their wings in scented show'rs; And shake the fost'ring drops to earth, To nurse meek blossoms into birth; And when autumnal zephyrs fly Sportive, beneath the sapphire sky, Or in the stream their pinions lave, Or teach the golden sheaves to wave; I'll watch the ruby eye of day In awful lustre glide away, And closing sink to transient rest, On panting Ocean's pearly breast.
O SOLITUDE ! how blest the lot Of her who shares thy silent cot! Who with celestial peace, pursues The pensive wand'rings of the MUSE; To stray unseen where'er she leads, O'er grassy hills and sunny meads, Or at the still of Night's cold noon To gaze upon the chilly Moon, While PHILOMELA'S mournful Song Meanders fairy haunts among, To tell the hopeless LOVER'S ear, That SYMPATHY'S FOND BIRD is near; Whose note shall soothe his aching heart, Whose grief shall emulate his smart; And by its sadly proud excess, Make every pang he suffers less; For oft in passion's direst woes, The veriest wretch can yield repose; While from the voice of kindred grief, We gain a sad, but kind relief.
AH LOVE! thou barb'rous fickle boy, Thou semblance of delusive joy, Too long my heart has been thy slave: For thou hast seen me wildly rave, And with impetuous frenzy haste, Heedless across the thorny waste, And drink the cold dews, ere they fell On my bare bosom's burning swell; When bleak the wintry whirlwinds blew; And swift the sultry meteors flew; Yes, thou hast seen me, tyrant pow'r, At freezing midnight's witching hour, Start from my couch, subdu'd, oppres'd, While jealous anguish wrung my breast, While round my eager senses flew, Dark brow'd Suspicion's wily crew, Taunting my soul with restless ire, That set my pulsate brain on fire.
What didst thou then ? Inhuman Boy! Didst thou not paint each well-feign'd joy, Each artful smile, each study'd grace That deck'd some sordid rival's face; Didst thou not feed my madd'ning sense With Love's delicious eloquence, While on my ear thy accents pour'd The voice of him my soul ador'd, His rapt'rous tones­his strains divine, And all those vows that once were mine.
But mild Reflection's piercing ray, Soon chas'd the fatal dream away, And with it all my rending woes, While in its place majestic rose The Angel TRUTH !­her stedfast mien Bespoke the conscious breast serene; Her eye more radiant than the day Beam'd with persuasion's temper'd ray; Sweet was her voice, and while she sung Myriads of Seraphs hover'd round, Eager to iterate the sound, That on her heav'n-taught accents hung.
Wond'ring I gaz'd! my throbbing breast, Celestial energies confest; Transports, before unfelt, unknown, Throng'd round my bosom's tremb'ling throne, While ev'ry nerve with rapture strange, Seem'd to partake the blissful change.
Now with unmov'd and dauntless Eye, I mark thy winged arrows fly; No more thy baneful spells shall bind The purer passions of my mind; No more, false Love, shall jealous fears Inflame my check with scalding tears; Or shake my vanquish'd sense, or rend My aching heart with poignant throes, Or with tumultuous fevers blend, Self-wounding, visionary woes.
­ No more I'll waste the midnight hour In expectation's silent bow'r; And musing o'er thy transcripts dear, Efface their sorrows with a tear.
No more with timid fondness wait Till morn unfolds her glitt'ring gate, When thy lov'd song's seraphic sound, Wou'd on my quiv'ring nerves rebound With proud delight;­no more thy blush Shall o'er my cheek unbidden rush, And scorning ev'ry strong controul, Unveil the tumults of my soul.
No more when in retirement blest, Shalt thou obtrude upon my rest; And tho' encircled with delight, Absorb my sense, obscure my sight, Give to my eye the vacant glance, The mien that marks the mental trance; The fault'ring tone­the sudden start, The trembling hand, the bursting heart; The devious step, that strolls along Unmindful of the gazing throng; The feign'd indiff'rence prone to chide; That blazons­what it seeks to hide.
Nor do I dread thy vengeful wiles, Thy soothing voice, thy winning smiles, Thy trick'ling tear, thy mien forlorn, Thy pray'r, thy sighs, thy oaths I scorn; No more on ME thy arrows show'r, Capricious Love­! I BRAVE THY POW'R.
Written by Mary Darby Robinson | Create an image from this poem

Sonnet X: Dangrous to Hear

 Dang'rous to hear, is that melodious tongue,
And fatal to the sense those murd'rous eyes,
Where in a sapphire sheath, Love's arrow lies,
Himself conceal'd the crystal haunts among!
Oft o'er that form, enamour'd have I hung,
On that smooth cheek to mark the deep'ning dyes,
While from that lip the fragrant breath would rise,
That lip, like Cupid's bow with rubies strung!
Still let me gaze upon that polish'd brow,
O'er which the golden hair luxuriant plays;
So, on the modest lily's leaves of snow
The proud Sun revels in resplendent rays!
Warm as his beams this sensate heart shall glow, 
Till life's last hour, with Phaon's self decays!
Written by Mary Darby Robinson | Create an image from this poem

Sonnet XVIII: Why Art Thou Changd?

 Why art thou chang'd? O Phaon! tell me why?
Love flies reproach, when passion feels decay;
Or, I would paint the raptures of that day,
When, in sweet converse, mingling sigh with sigh,
I mark'd the graceful languor of thine eye
As on a shady bank entranc'd we lay:
O! Eyes! whose beamy radiance stole away
As stars fade trembling from the burning sky!
Why art thou chang'd? dear source of all my woes!
Though dark my bosom's tint, through ev'ry vein
A ruby tide of purest lustre flows,
Warm'd by thy love, or chill'd by thy disdain;
And yet no bliss this sensate Being knows;
Ah! why is rapture so allied to pain?



Book: Reflection on the Important Things