10 Best Famous Sibilance Poems
Here is a collection of the top 10 all-time best famous Sibilance poems. This is a select list of the best famous Sibilance poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Sibilance poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of sibilance poems.
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Written by
John Crowe Ransom |
Do not enforce the tired wolf
Dragging his infected wound homeward
To sit tonight with the warm children
Naming the pretty kings of France.
The images of the invaded mind
Being as the monsters in the dreams
Of your most brief enchanted headful,
Suppose a miracle of confusion:
That dreamed and undreamt become each other
And mix the night and day of your mind;
And it does not matter your twice crying
From mouth unbeautied against the pillow
To avert the gun of the same old soldier;
For cry, cock-crow, or the iron bell
Can crack the sleep-sense of outrage,
Annihilate phantoms who were nothing.
But now, by our perverse supposal,
There is a drift of fog on your mornings;
You in your peignoir, dainty at your orange cup,
Feel poising round the sunny room
Invisible evil, deprived and bold.
All day the clock will metronome
Your gallant fear; the needles clicking,
The heels detonating the stair's cavern
Freshening the water in the blue bowls
For the buck berries, with not all your love,
You shall he listening for the low wind,
The warning sibilance of pines.
You like a waning moon, and I accusing
Our too banded Eumenides,
While you pronounce Noes wanderingly
And smooth the heads of the hungry children.
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Written by
Delmore Schwartz |
Faithful to your commandments, o consciousness, o
Holy bird of words soaring ever whether to nothingness or
to inconceivable fulfillment slowly:
And still I follow you, awkward as that dandy of ontology
and as awkward as his albatross and as
another dandy of ontology before him, another shepherd
and watchdog of being, the one who
Talked forever of forever as if forever of having been
and being an ancient mariner,
Hesitant forever as if forever were the albatross
Hung round his neck by the seven seas of the seven muses,
and with as little conclusion, since being never concludes,
Studying the sibilance and the splashing of the seas and of
seeing and of being's infinite seas,
Staring at the ever-blue and the far small stars and
the faint white endless curtain of the
twinkling play's endless seasons.
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