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Best Famous Transitive Poems

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

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Written by Emily Dickinson | Create an image from this poem

The most triumphant Bird I ever knew or met

 The most triumphant Bird I ever knew or met
Embarked upon a twig today
And till Dominion set
I famish to behold so eminent a sight
And sang for nothing scrutable
But intimate Delight.
Retired, and resumed his transitive Estate --
To what delicious Accident
Does finest Glory fit!


Written by Emily Dickinson | Create an image from this poem

The Wind didnt come from the Orchard -- today

 The Wind didn't come from the Orchard -- today --
Further than that --
Nor stop to play with the Hay --
Nor joggle a Hat --
He's a transitive fellow -- very --
Rely on that --

If He leave a Bur at the door
We know He has climbed a Fir --
But the Fir is Where -- Declare --
Were you ever there?

If He brings Odors of Clovers --
And that is His business -- not Ours --
Then He has been with the Mowers --
Whetting away the Hours
To sweet pauses of Hay --
His Way -- of a June Day --

If He fling Sand, and Pebble --
Little Boys Hats -- and Stubble --
With an occasional Steeple --
And a hoarse "Get out of the way, I say,"
Who'd be the fool to stay?
Would you -- Say --
Would you be the fool to stay?
Written by Emily Dickinson | Create an image from this poem

My Triumph lasted till the Drums

 My Triumph lasted till the Drums
Had left the Dead alone
And then I dropped my Victory
And chastened stole along
To where the finished Faces
Conclusion turned on me
And then I hated Glory
And wished myself were They.

What is to be is best descried
When it has also been --
Could Prospect taste of Retrospect
The tyrannies of Men
Were Tenderer -- diviner
The Transitive toward.
A Bayonet's contrition
Is nothing to the Dead.
Written by Emily Dickinson | Create an image from this poem

That odd old man is dead a year --

 That odd old man is dead a year --
We miss his stated Hat.
'Twas such an evening bright and stiff
His faded lamp went out.

Who miss his antiquated Wick --
Are any hoar for him?
Waits any indurated mate
His wrinkled coming Home?

Oh Life, begun in fluent Blood
And consummated dull!
Achievement contemplating thee --
Feels transitive and cool.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things