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Best Famous Singapore Poems

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

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Written by Rudyard Kipling | Create an image from this poem

The English Flag

 Above the portico a flag-staff, bearing the Union Jack,
remained fluttering in the flames for some time, but ultimately
when it fell the crowds rent the air with shouts,
and seemed to see significance in the incident. -- DAILY PAPERS.


Winds of the World, give answer! They are whimpering to and fro --
And what should they know of England who only England know? --
The poor little street-bred people that vapour and fume and brag,
They are lifting their heads in the stillness to yelp at the English Flag!

Must we borrow a clout from the Boer -- to plaster anew with dirt?
An Irish liar's bandage, or an English coward's shirt?
We may not speak of England; her Flag's to sell or share.
What is the Flag of England? Winds of the World, declare!

The North Wind blew: -- "From Bergen my steel-shod vanguards go;
I chase your lazy whalers home from the Disko floe;
By the great North Lights above me I work the will of God,
And the liner splits on the ice-field or the Dogger fills with cod.

"I barred my gates with iron, I shuttered my doors with flame,
Because to force my ramparts your nutshell navies came;
I took the sun from their presence, I cut them down with my blast,
And they died, but the Flag of England blew free ere the spirit passed.

"The lean white bear hath seen it in the long, long Arctic night,
The musk-ox knows the standard that flouts the Northern Light:
What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my bergs to dare,
Ye have but my drifts to conquer. Go forth, for it is there!"

The South Wind sighed: -- "From the Virgins my mid-sea course was ta'en
Over a thousand islands lost in an idle main,
Where the sea-egg flames on the coral and the long-backed breakers croon
Their endless ocean legends to the lazy, locked lagoon.

"Strayed amid lonely islets, mazed amid outer keys,
I waked the palms to laughter -- I tossed the scud in the breeze --
Never was isle so little, never was sea so lone,
But over the scud and the palm-trees an English flag was flown.

"I have wrenched it free from the halliard to hang for a wisp on the Horn;
I have chased it north to the Lizard -- ribboned and rolled and torn;
I have spread its fold o'er the dying, adrift in a hopeless sea;
I have hurled it swift on the slaver, and seen the slave set free.

"My basking sunfish know it, and wheeling albatross,
Where the lone wave fills with fire beneath the Southern Cross.
What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my reefs to dare,
Ye have but my seas to furrow. Go forth, for it is there!"

The East Wind roared: -- "From the Kuriles, the Bitter Seas, I come,
And me men call the Home-Wind, for I bring the English home.
Look -- look well to your shipping! By the breath of my mad typhoon
I swept your close-packed Praya and beached your best at Kowloon!

"The reeling junks behind me and the racing seas before,
I raped your richest roadstead -- I plundered Singapore!
I set my hand on the Hoogli; as a hooded snake she rose,
And I flung your stoutest steamers to roost with the startled crows.

"Never the lotus closes, never the wild-fowl wake,
But a soul goes out on the East Wind that died for England's sake --
Man or woman or suckling, mother or bride or maid --
Because on the bones of the English the English Flag is stayed.

"The desert-dust hath dimmed it, the flying wild-ass knows,
The scared white leopard winds it across the taintless snows.
What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my sun to dare,
Ye have but my sands to travel. Go forth, for it is there!"

The West Wind called: -- "In squadrons the thoughtless galleons fly
That bear the wheat and cattle lest street-bred people die.
They make my might their porter, they make my house their path,
Till I loose my neck from their rudder and whelm them all in my wrath.

"I draw the gliding fog-bank as a snake is drawn from the hole,
They bellow one to the other, the frighted ship-bells toll,
For day is a drifting terror till I raise the shroud with my breath,
And they see strange bows above them and the two go locked to death.

"But whether in calm or wrack-wreath, whether by dark or day,
I heave them whole to the conger or rip their plates away,
First of the scattered legions, under a shrieking sky,
Dipping between the rollers, the English Flag goes by.

"The dead dumb fog hath wrapped it -- the frozen dews have kissed --
The naked stars have seen it, a fellow-star in the mist.
What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my breath to dare,
Ye have but my waves to conquer. Go forth, for it is there!"


Written by Bliss Carman | Create an image from this poem

The Ships of Yule

 When I was just a little boy,
Before I went to school,
I had a fleet of forty sail
I called the Ships of Yule;
Of every rig, from rakish brig
And gallant barkentine,
To little Fundy fishing boats
With gunwales painted green.
They used to go on trading trips
Around the world for me,
For though I had to stay on shore
My heart was on the sea.

They stopped at every port to call
From Babylon to Rome,
To load with all the lovely things
We never had at home;

With elephants and ivory
Bought from the King of Tyre,
And shells and silks and sandal-wood
That sailor men admire;

With figs and dates from Samarcand,
And squatty ginger-jars,
And scented silver amulets
From Indian bazaars;

With sugar-cane from Port of Spain,
And monkeys from Ceylon,
And paper lanterns from Pekin
With painted dragons on;

With cocoanuts from Zanzibar,
And pines from Singapore;
And when they had unloaded these
They could go back for more.

And even after I was big
And had to go to school,
My mind was often far away
Aboard the Ships of Yule.
Written by Rudyard Kipling | Create an image from this poem

The Mother-Lodge

 There was Rundle, Station Master,
 An' Beazeley of the Rail,
An' 'Ackman, Commissariat,
 An' Donkin' o' the Jail;
An' Blake, Conductor-Sargent,
 Our Master twice was 'e,
With 'im that kept the Europe-shop,
 Old Framjee Eduljee.

Outside -- "Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!"
Inside -- "Brother", an' it doesn't do no 'arm.
We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square,
An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there!

We'd Bola Nath, Accountant,
 An' Saul the Aden Jew,
An' Din Mohammed, draughtsman
 Of the Survey Office too;
There was Babu Chuckerbutty,
 An' Amir Singh the Sikh,
An' Castro from the fittin'-sheds,
 The Roman Catholick!

We 'adn't good regalia,
 An' our Lodge was old an' bare,
But we knew the Ancient Landmarks,
 An' we kep' 'em to a hair;
An' lookin' on it backwards
 It often strikes me thus,
There ain't such things as infidels,
 Excep', per'aps, it's us.

For monthly, after Labour,
 We'd all sit down and smoke
(We dursn't give no banquits,
 Lest a Brother's caste were broke),
An' man on man got talkin'
 Religion an' the rest,
An' every man comparin'
 Of the God 'e knew the best.

So man on man got talkin',
 An' not a Brother stirred
Till mornin' waked the parrots
 An' that dam' brain-fever-bird;
We'd say 'twas 'ighly curious,
 An' we'd all ride 'ome to bed,
With Mo'ammed, God, an' Shiva
 Changin' pickets in our 'ead.

Full oft on Guv'ment service
 This rovin' foot 'ath pressed,
An' bore fraternal greetin's
 To the Lodges east an' west,
Accordin' as commanded
 From Kohat to Singapore,
But I wish that I might see them
 In my Mother-Lodge once more!

I wish that I might see them,
 My Brethren black an' brown,
With the trichies smellin' pleasant
 An' the hog-darn passin' down; [Cigar-lighter.]
An' the old khansamah snorin' [Butler.]
 On the bottle-khana floor, [Pantry.]
Like a Master in good standing
 With my Mother-Lodge once more!

Outside -- "Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!"
Inside -- "Brother", an' it doesn't do no 'arm.
We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square,
An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there!
Written by Rudyard Kipling | Create an image from this poem

The Song of the Cities

 BOMBAY

Royal and Dower-royal, I the Queen
 Fronting thy richest sea with richer hands --
A thousand mills roar through me where I glean
 All races from all lands.


 CALCUTTA

Me the Sea-captain loved, the River built,
 Wealth sought and Kings adventured life to hold.
Hail, England! I am Asia -- Power on silt,
 Death in my hands, but Gold!


 MADRAS

Clive kissed me on the mouth and eyes and brow,
 Wonderful kisses, so that I became
Crowned above Queens -- a withered beldame now,
 Brooding on ancient fame.


 RANGOON

Hail, Mother! Do they call me rich in trade?
 Little care I, but hear the shorn priest drone,
And watch my silk-clad lovers, man by maid,
 Laugh 'neath my Shwe Dagon.


 SINGAPORE

Hail, Mother! East and West must seek my aid
 Ere the spent gear may dare the ports afar.
The second doorway of the wide world's trade
 Is mine to loose or bar.


 HONG-KONG

Hail, Mother! Hold me fast; my Praya sleeps
 Under innumerable keels to-day.
Yet guard (and landward), or to-morrow sweeps
 Thy war-ships down the bay!


 HALIFAX

Into the mist my guardian prows put forth,
 Behind the mist my virgin ramparts lie,
The Warden of the Honour of the North,
 Sleepless and veiled am I!


 QUEBEC AND MONTREAL

Peace is our portion. Yet a whisper rose,
 Foolish and causeless, half in jest, half hate.
Now wake we and remember mighty blows,
 And, fearing no man, wait!


 VICTORIA

From East to West the circling word has passed,
 Till West is East beside our land-locked blue;
From East to West the tested chain holds fast,
 The well-forged link rings true!


 CAPE TOWN

Hail! Snatched and bartered oft from hand to hand,
 I dream my dream, by rock and heath and pine,
Of Empire to the northward. Ay, one land
 From Lion's Head to Line!


 MELBOURNE

Greeting! Nor fear nor favour won us place,
 Got between greed of gold and dread of drouth,
Loud-voiced and reckless as the wild tide-race
 That whips our harbour-mouth!


 SYDNEY

Greeting! My birth-stain have I turned to good;
 Forcing strong wills perverse to steadfastness:
The first flush of the tropics in my blood,
 And at my feet Success!


 BRISBANE

The northern stirp beneath the southern skies --
 I build a Nation for an Empire's need,
Suffer a little, and my land shall rise,
 Queen over lands indeed!


 HOBART

Man's love first found me; man's hate made me Hell;
 For my babes' sake I cleansed those infamies.
Earnest for leave to live and labour well,
 God flung me peace and ease.


 AUCKLAND

Last, loneliest, loveliest, exquisite, apart --
 On us, on us the unswerving season smiles,
Who wonder 'mid our fern why men depart
 To seek the Happy Isles!

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry