10 Best Famous Unshakable Poems

Here is a collection of the top 10 all-time best famous Unshakable poems. This is a select list of the best famous Unshakable poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Unshakable poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of unshakable poems.

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Written by Walt Whitman | Create an image from this poem

Manhattan Streets I Saunter'd Pondering

 1
MANHATTAN’S streets I saunter’d, pondering, 
On time, space, reality—on such as these, and abreast with them, prudence. 

2
After all, the last explanation remains to be made about prudence; 
Little and large alike drop quietly aside from the prudence that suits immortality. 

The Soul is of itself;
All verges to it—all has reference to what ensues; 
All that a person does, says, thinks, is of consequence; 
Not a move can a man or woman make, that affects him or her in a day, month, any part of
 the
 direct
 life-time, or the hour of death, but the same affects him or her onward afterward through
 the
 indirect life-time. 

3
The indirect is just as much as the direct, 
The spirit receives from the body just as much as it gives to the body, if not more.

Not one word or deed—not venereal sore, discoloration, privacy of the onanist,
 putridity
 of
 gluttons or rum-drinkers, peculation, cunning, betrayal, murder, seduction, prostitution,
 but
 has
 results beyond death, as really as before death. 

4
Charity and personal force are the only investments worth anything. 

No specification is necessary—all that a male or female does, that is vigorous,
 benevolent,
 clean, is so much profit to him or her, in the unshakable order of the universe, and
 through
 the
 whole scope of it forever. 

5
Who has been wise, receives interest, 
Savage, felon, President, judge, farmer, sailor, mechanic, literat, young, old, it is the
 same,
The interest will come round—all will come round. 

Singly, wholly, to affect now, affected their time, will forever affect all of the past,
 and
 all of
 the present, and all of the future, 
All the brave actions of war and peace, 
All help given to relatives, strangers, the poor, old, sorrowful, young children, widows,
 the
 sick,
 and to shunn’d persons, 
All furtherance of fugitives, and of the escape of slaves,
All self-denial that stood steady and aloof on wrecks, and saw others fill the seats of
 the
 boats, 
All offering of substance or life for the good old cause, or for a friend’s sake, or
 opinion’s sake, 
All pains of enthusiasts, scoff’d at by their neighbors, 
All the limitless sweet love and precious suffering of mothers, 
All honest men baffled in strifes recorded or unrecorded,
All the grandeur and good of ancient nations whose fragments we inherit, 
All the good of the dozens of ancient nations unknown to us by name, date, location, 
All that was ever manfully begun, whether it succeeded or no, 
All suggestions of the divine mind of man, or the divinity of his mouth, or the shaping of
 his
 great
 hands; 
All that is well thought or said this day on any part of the globe—or on any of the
 wandering
 stars, or on any of the fix’d stars, by those there as we are here;
All that is henceforth to be thought or done by you, whoever you are, or by any one; 
These inure, have inured, shall inure, to the identities from which they sprang, or shall
 spring. 

6
Did you guess anything lived only its moment? 
The world does not so exist—no parts palpable or impalpable so exist; 
No consummation exists without being from some long previous consummation—and that
 from
 some
 other,
Without the farthest conceivable one coming a bit nearer the beginning than any. 

7
Whatever satisfies Souls is true; 
Prudence entirely satisfies the craving and glut of Souls; 
Itself only finally satisfies the Soul; 
The Soul has that measureless pride which revolts from every lesson but its own.

8
Now I give you an inkling; 
Now I breathe the word of the prudence that walks abreast with time, space, reality, 
That answers the pride which refuses every lesson but its own. 

What is prudence, is indivisible, 
Declines to separate one part of life from every part,
Divides not the righteous from the unrighteous, or the living from the dead, 
Matches every thought or act by its correlative, 
Knows no possible forgiveness, or deputed atonement, 
Knows that the young man who composedly peril’d his life and lost it, has done
 exceedingly
 well
 for himself without doubt, 
That he who never peril’d his life, but retains it to old age in riches and ease, has
 probably
 achiev’d nothing for himself worth mentioning;
Knows that only that person has really learn’d, who has learn’d to prefer
 results, 
Who favors Body and Soul the same, 
Who perceives the indirect assuredly following the direct, 
Who in his spirit in any emergency whatever neither hurries or, avoids death.

Written by Rudyard Kipling | Create an image from this poem

A British-Roman Song

 (A. D. 406)

"A Centurion of the Thirtieth" -- Puck of Pook's Hill

My father's father saw it not,
 And I, belike, shall never come 
To look on that so-holly spot--
 That very Rome--

Crowned by all Time, all Art, all Might,
 The equal work of Gods and Man,
City beneath whose oldest height--
 The Race began!

 Soon to send forth again a brood,
 Unshakable, we pray, that clings
 To Rome's thrice-hammered hardihood--
 In arduous things.

 Strong heart with triple armour bound,
 Beat strongly, for thy life-blood runs,
 Age after Age, the Empire round--
 In us thy Sons

 Who, distant from the Seven Hills,
 Loving and serving much, require
 Thee-thee to guard 'gainst home-born ills
 The Imperial Fire!
Written by Carl Sandburg | Create an image from this poem

Dynamiter

 I SAT with a dynamiter at supper in a German saloon
eating steak and onions.
And he laughed and told stories of his wife and children
and the cause of labor and the working class.
It was laughter of an unshakable man knowing life to be
a rich and red-blooded thing.
Yes, his laugh rang like the call of gray birds filled with
a glory of joy ramming their winged flight through
a rain storm.
His name was in many newspapers as an enemy of the
nation and few keepers of churches or schools would
open their doors to him.
Over the steak and onions not a word was said of his
deep days and nights as a dynamiter.
Only I always remember him as a lover of life, a lover
of children, a lover of all free, reckless laughter
everywhere--lover of red hearts and red blood the
world over.
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