Best Famous Suing Poems
Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Suing poems. This is a select list of the best famous Suing poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Suing poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of suing poems.
Search and read the best famous Suing poems, articles about Suing poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Suing poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.
See Also:
Written by
Anne Kingsmill Finch |
Tis true of courage I'm no mistress
No Boadicia nor Thalestriss
Nor shall I e'er be famed hereafter
For such a Soul as Cato's Daughter
Nor active valour nor enduring
Nor leading troops nor forts securing
Like Teckley's wife or Pucell valiant
Will e'er be reckonded for my talent
Who all things fear whilst day is shining
And my own shadow light declining
And from the Spleen's prolifick fountain
Can of a mole hill make a mountain
And if a Coach that was invented
Since Bess on Palfrey rode contented
Threatens to tumble topsy turvy
With screeches loud and faces scurvey
I break discourse whilst some are laughing
Some fall to chear me some to chaffing
As secretly the driver curses
And whips my fault upon the horses
These and ten thousand are the errours
Arising from tumultuous terrours
Yet can't I understand the merit
In Female's of a daring spirit
Since to them never was imparted
In manly strengh tho' manly hearted
Nor need that sex be self defending
Who charm the most when most depending
And by sweet plaints and soft distresses
First gain asistance then adresses
As our fourth Edward (beauty suing)
From but releiving fell to wooing
Who by Heroick speech or ranting
Had ne'er been melted to galanting
Nor had th'Egyptian Queen defying
Drawn off that fleet she led by flying
Whilst Cesar and his ships crew hollow'd
To see how Tony row'd and follow'd
Oh Action triumph of the Ladies
And plea for her who most afraid is
Then let my conduct work no wonder
When fame who cleaves the air asunder
And every thing in time discovers
Nor council keeps for Kings or Lovers
Yet stoops when tired with States and battles
To Gossips chats and idler tattles
When she I say has given no knowledge
Of what has happen'd at Wye College
Think it not strange to save my Person
I gave the family diversion
'Twas at an hour when most were sleeping
Some chimnies clean some wanted sweeping
Mine thro' good fires maintain'd this winter
(Of which no FINCH was e'er a stinter)
Pour'd down such flakes not Etna bigger
Throws up as did my fancy figure
Nor does a Cannon ram'd with Powder
To others seem to Bellow louder
All that I thought or spoke or acted
Can't in a letter be compacted
Nor how I threatn'd those with burning
Who thoughtless on their beds were turning
As Shakespear says they serv'd old Prium
When that the Greeks were got too nigh'em
And such th'effect in spite of weather
Our Hecuba's all rose together
I at their head half cloath'd and shaking
Was instantly the house forsaking
And told them 'twas no time for talking
But who'd be safe had best be walking
This hasty councel and conclusion
Seem'd harsh to those who had no shoes on
And saw no flames and heard no clatter
But as I had rehears'd the matter
And wildly talk't of fire and water
For sooner then 'thas took to tell it
Right applications did repell it
And now my fear our mirth creating
Affords still subject for repeating
Whilst some deplore th'unusual folly
Some (kinder) call it melancholy
Tho' certainly the spirits sinking
Comes not from want of wit or thinking
Since Rochester all dangers hated
And left to those were harder pated.
|
Written by
Victor Hugo |
("N'ai-je pas pour toi, belle juive.")
{XII., Oct. 27, 1828.}
To please you, Jewess, jewel!
I have thinned my harem out!
Must every flirting of your fan
Presage a dying shout?
Grace for the damsels tender
Who have fear to hear your laugh,
For seldom gladness gilds your lips
But blood you mean to quaff.
In jealousy so zealous,
Never was there woman worse;
You'd have no roses but those grown
Above some buried corse.
Am I not pinioned firmly?
Why be angered if the door
Repulses fifty suing maids
Who vainly there implore?
Let them live on—to envy
My own empress of the world,
To whom all Stamboul like a dog
Lies at the slippers curled.
To you my heroes lower
Those scarred ensigns none have cowed;
To you their turbans are depressed
That elsewhere march so proud.
To you Bassora offers
Her respect, and Trebizonde
Her carpets richly wrought, and spice
And gems, of which you're fond.
To you the Cyprus temples
Dare not bar or close the doors;
For you the mighty Danube sends
The choicest of its stores.
Fear you the Grecian maidens,
Pallid lilies of the isles?
Or the scorching-eyed sand-rover
From Baalbec's massy piles?
Compared with yours, oh, daughter
Of King Solomon the grand,
What are round ebon bosoms,
High brows from Hellas' strand?
You're neither blanched nor blackened,
For your tint of olive's clear;
Yours are lips of ripest cherry,
You are straight as Arab spear.
Hence, launch no longer lightning
On these paltry slaves of ours.
Why should your flow of tears be matched
By their mean life-blood showers?
Think only of our banquets
Brought and served by charming girls,
For beauties sultans must adorn
As dagger-hilts the pearls.
|
Written by
Emily Dickinson |
Not any more to be lacked --
Not any more to be known --
Denizen of Significance
For a span so worn --
Even Nature herself
Has forgot it is there --
Sedulous of her Multitudes
Notwithstanding Despair --
Of the Ones that pursued it
Suing it not to go
Some have solaced the longing
To accompany --
Some -- rescinded the Wrench --
Others -- Shall I say
Plated the residue of Adz
With Monotony.
|
Written by
Emily Dickinson |
Elizabeth told Essex
That she could not forgive
The clemency of Deity
However -- might survive --
That secondary succor
We trust that she partook
When suing -- like her Essex
For a reprieving Look --
|
Written by
Emily Dickinson |
Come show thy Durham Breast
To her who loves thee best,
Delicious Robin --
And if it be not me
At least within my Tree
Do the avowing --
Thy Nuptial so minute
Perhaps is more astute
Than vaster suing --
For so to soar away
Is our propensity
The Day ensuing --
|