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Best Famous Successors Poems

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

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Written by Amanda Gorman | Create an image from this poem

The Hill We Climb

When day comes we ask ourselves,
where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry,
a sea we must wade
We've braved the belly of the beast
We've learned that quiet isn't always peace
And the norms and notions
of what just is
Isn't always just-ice
And yet the dawn is ours
before we knew it
Somehow we do it
Somehow we've weathered and witnessed
a nation that isn't broken
but simply unfinished
We the successors of a country and a time
Where a skinny Black girl
descended from slaves and raised by a single mother
can dream of becoming president
only to find herself reciting for one
And yes we are far from polished
far from pristine
but that doesn't mean we are
striving to form a union that is perfect
We are striving to forge a union with purpose
To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and
conditions of man
And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us
but what stands before us
We close the divide because we know, to put our future first,
we must first put our differences aside
We lay down our arms
so we can reach out our arms
to one another
We seek harm to none and harmony for all
Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true:
That even as we grieved, we grew
That even as we hurt, we hoped
That even as we tired, we tried
That we'll forever be tied together, victorious
Not because we will never again know defeat
but because we will never again sow division
Scripture tells us to envision
that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree
And no one shall make them afraid
If we're to live up to our own time
Then victory won't lie in the blade
But in all the bridges we've made
That is the promise to glade
The hill we climb
If only we dare
It's because being American is more than a pride we inherit,
it's the past we step into
and how we repair it
We've seen a force that would shatter our nation
rather than share it
Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy
And this effort very nearly succeeded
But while democracy can be periodically delayed
it can never be permanently defeated
In this truth
in this faith we trust
For while we have our eyes on the future
history has its eyes on us
This is the era of just redemption
We feared at its inception
We did not feel prepared to be the heirs
of such a terrifying hour
but within it we found the power
to author a new chapter
To offer hope and laughter to ourselves
So while once we asked,
how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?
Now we assert
How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?
We will not march back to what was
but move to what shall be
A country that is bruised but whole,
benevolent but bold,
fierce and free
We will not be turned around
or interrupted by intimidation
because we know our inaction and inertia
will be the inheritance of the next generation
Our blunders become their burdens
But one thing is certain:
If we merge mercy with might,
and might with right,
then love becomes our legacy
and change our children's birthright
So let us leave behind a country
better than the one we were left with
Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest,
we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one
We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the west,
we will rise from the windswept northeast
where our forefathers first realized revolution
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states,
we will rise from the sunbaked south
We will rebuild, reconcile and recover
and every known nook of our nation and
every corner called our country,
our people diverse and beautiful will emerge,
battered and beautiful
When day comes we step out of the shade,
aflame and unafraid
The new dawn blooms as we free it
For there is always light,
if only we're brave enough to see it
If only we're brave enough to be it





Amanda Gorman, the nation's first-ever youth poet laureate, read the following poem during the inauguration of President Joe Biden on January 20, 2021.


Written by William Cullen Bryant | Create an image from this poem

The Constellations

 O constellations of the early night, 
That sparkled brighter as the twilight died, 
And made the darkness glorious! I have seen 
Your rays grow dim upon the horizon's edge, 
And sink behind the mountains.
I have seen The great Orion, with his jewelled belt, That large-limbed warrior of the skies, go down Into the gloom.
Beside him sank a crowd Of shining ones.
I look in vain to find The group of sister-stars, which mothers love To show their wondering babes, the gentle Seven.
Along the desert space mine eyes in vain Seek the resplendent cressets which the Twins Uplifted in their ever-youthful hands.
The streaming tresses of the Egyptian Queen Spangle the heavens no more.
The Virgin trails No more her glittering garments through the blue.
Gone! all are gone! and the forsaken Night, With all her winds, in all her dreary wastes, Sighs that they shine upon her face no more.
No only here and there a little star Looks forth alone.
Ah me! I know them not, Those dim successors of the numberless host That filled the heavenly fields, and flung to earth Their guivering fires.
And now the middle watch Betwixt the eve and morn is past, and still The darkness gains upon the sky, and still It closes round my way.
Shall, then, the Night, Grow starless in her later hours? Have these No train of flaming watchers, that shall mark Their coming and farewell? O Sons of Light! Have ye then left me ere the dawn of day To grope along my journey sad and faint? Thus I complained, and from the darkness round A voice replied--was it indeed a voice, Or seeming accents of a waking dream Heard by the inner ear? But thus it said: O Traveller of the Night! thine eyes are dim With watching; and the mists, that chill the vale Down which thy feet are passing, hide from view The ever-burning stars.
It is thy sight That is so dark, and not the heaens.
Thine eyes, Were they but clear, would see a fiery host Above thee; Hercules, with flashing mace, The Lyre with silver cords, the Swan uppoised On gleaming wings, the Dolphin gliding on With glistening scales, and that poetic steed, With beamy mane, whose hoof struck out from earth The fount of Hippocrene, and many more, Fair clustered splendors, with whose rays the Night Shall close her march in glory, ere she yield, To the young Day, the great earth steeped in dew.
So spake the monitor, and I perceived How vain were my repinings, and my thought Went backward to the vanished years and all The good and great who came and passed with them, And knew that ever would the years to come Bring with them, in their course, the good and great, Lights of the world, though, to my clouded sight, Their rays might seem but dim, or reach me not.
Written by Philip Freneau | Create an image from this poem

On The Death Of Dr. Benjamin Franklin

 Thus, some tall tree that long hath stood 
The glory of its native wood, 
By storms destroyed, or length of years, 
Demands the tribute of our tears.
The pile, that took long time to raise, To dust returns by slow decays: But, when its destined years are o'er, We must regret the loss the more.
So long accustomed to your aid, The world laments your exit made; So long befriended by your art, Philosopher, 'tis hard to part!-- When monarchs tumble to the ground, Successors easily are found: But, matchless FRANKLIN! what a few Can hope to rival such as YOU, Who seized from kings their sceptered pride, And turned the lightning darts aside.
Written by Robert Louis Stevenson | Create an image from this poem

To Willie and Henrietta

 If two may read aright 
These rhymes of old delight 
And house and garden play, 
You too, my cousins, and you only, may.
You in a garden green With me were king and queen, Were hunter, soldier, tar, And all the thousand things that children are.
Now in the elders' seat We rest with quiet feet, And from the window-bay We watch the children, our successors, play.
"Time was," the golden head Irrevocably said; But time which one can bind, While flowing fast away, leaves love behind.

Book: Shattered Sighs