Famous Boston Poems by Famous Poets

These are examples of famous Boston poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous boston poems. These examples illustrate what a famous boston poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).

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A poem on the rising glory of America

...lorious train appear, 
Of Patriots plac'd in equal fame with those 
Who nobly fell for Athens or for Rome. 
The sons of Boston resolute and brave 
The firm supporters of our injur'd rights, 
Shall lose their splendours in the brighter beams 
Of patriots fam'd and heroes yet unborn. 



ACASTO. 
'Tis but the morning of the world with us 
And Science yet but sheds her orient rays. 
I see the age the happy age roll on 
Bright with the splendours of her mid-day beams, 
I see a Ho...Read more of this...
by Brackenridge, Hugh Henry


American Feuillage

...of the day, driving the herd of cows, and shouting to them as
 they
 loiter to browse by the road-side; 
The city wharf—Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Charleston, New Orleans, San
 Francisco, 
The departing ships, when the sailors heave at the capstan;
—Evening—me in my room—the setting sun, 
The setting summer sun shining in my open window, showing the swarm of flies, suspended,
 balancing
 in the air in the centre of the room, darting athwart, up and down, casting swift s...Read more of this...
by Whitman, Walt

An Ode in Time of Hesitation

...After seeing at Boston the statue of Robert Gould Shaw, killed while storming Fort Wagner, July 18, 1863, at the head of the first enlisted ***** regiment, the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts.


I 

Before the solemn bronze Saint Gaudens made 
To thrill the heedless passer's heart with awe, 
And set here in the city's talk and trade 
To the good memory of Robert Shaw, 
This brig...Read more of this...
by Moody, William Vaughn

Avons Harvest

...on, with him still in it, 
For all it was I saw of him. Sometimes
I heard of him, but only as one hears 
Of leprosy in Boston or New York 
And wishes it were somewhere else. He faded 
Out of my scene—yet never quite out of it: 
‘I shall know where you are until you die,’
Were his last words; and they are the same words
That I received thereafter once a year, 
Infallibly on my birthday, with no name; 
Only a card, and the words printed on it. 
No, I was never rid of him—not q...Read more of this...
by Robinson, Edwin Arlington

Death and Fame

...
 City"
"Kaddish made me weep for myself & father alive in Nevada City"
"Father Death comforted me when my sister died Boston l982"
"I read what he said in a newsmagazine, blew my mind, realized 
 others like me out there"
Deaf & Dumb bards with hand signing quick brilliant gestures
Then Journalists, editors's secretaries, agents, portraitists & photo-
 graphy aficionados, rock critics, cultured laborors, cultural 
 historians come to witness the historic funeral
Super-fans,...Read more of this...
by Ginsberg, Allen


Distressed Haiku

...ever write
lines that do anything
but whine and complain?

In April the blue
mountain revises
from white to green.

The Boston Red Sox win
a hundred straight games.
The mouse rips
the throat of the lion

and the dead return....Read more of this...
by Hall, Donald

Freedoms Plow

...ill,
And the way to build America.
Now it is Me here, and You there.
Now it's Manhattan, Chicago,
Seattle, New Orleans,
Boston and El Paso-
Now it's the U.S.A.

A long time ago, but not too long ago, a man said:
 ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL--
 ENDOWED BY THEIR CREATOR
 WITH CERTAIN UNALIENABLE RIGHTS--
 AMONG THESE LIFE, LIBERTY
 AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS.
His name was Jefferson. There were slaves then,
But in their hearts the slaves believed him, too,
And silently too for g...Read more of this...
by Hughes, Langston

Liberty

...ked Freedom's pathway winding through the land--
And not the footprints to be swept away
Before the storm we hatched in Boston Bay,--
But footprints where the path of war begun
That led to Bunker Hill and Lexington,--
For he who "dared to lead where others dared
To follow" found the promise there declared
Of Liberty, in blood of Freedom's host
Baptized to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!

Oh, there were times when every patriot breast
Was riotous with sentiments expressed
In tone...Read more of this...
by Riley, James Whitcomb

My Philosophy of Life

...nce overwhelms him--not saffron, not lavender,
but something in between.He thinks of cushions, like the one
his uncle's Boston bull terrier used to lie on watching him
quizzically, pointed ear-tips folded over. And then the great rush 
is on.Not a single idea emerges from it.It's enough
to disgust you with thought.But then you remember something
William James
wrote in some book of his you never read--it was fine, it had the
fineness,
the powder of life dusted over it, by chan...Read more of this...
by Ashbery, John

New Hampshire

...e has one witch—old style. She lives in Colebrook.
(The only other witch I ever met
Was lately at a cut-glass dinner in Boston.
There were four candles and four people present.
The witch was young, and beautiful (new style),
And open-minded. She was free to question
Her gift for reading letters locked in boxes.
Why was it so much greater when the boxes
Were metal than it was when they were wooden?
It made the world seem so mysterious.
The S'ciety for Psychical Research
Was co...Read more of this...
by Frost, Robert

No You Be A Lone Eagle

...an automobile
or a train
But ...
My God, have you ever taken a good look at a strut?
Then that one about how you're in Boston before you can say antidis-
establishmentarianism
So that preferring to take five hours by rail is a pernicious example of
antiquarianism.
At least when I get on the Boston train I have a good chance of landing
in the South Station
And not in that part of the daily press which is reserved for victims of
aviation.
Then, despite the assurance that aerop...Read more of this...
by Nash, Ogden

Paris

...


That, settling where the coils unroll, tangle with pink and green and blue 
The crowds that rag to "Hitchy-koo" and boston to the "Barcarole". . . . 


Here Mimi ventures, at fifteen, to make her debut in romance, 
And join her sisters in the dance and see the life that they have seen. 


Her hair, a tight hat just allows to brush beneath the narrow brim, 
Docked, in the model's present whim, `frise' and banged above the brows. 


Uncorseted, her clinging dress with every...Read more of this...
by Seeger, Alan

Salut au Monde

...amburg, Bremen, Bordeaux,
 the
 Hague, Copenhagen; 
Wait at Valparaiso, Rio Janeiro, Panama; 
Wait at their moorings at Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Charleston, New Orleans,
 Galveston,
 San
 Francisco. 

5
I see the tracks of the rail-roads of the earth; 
I see them welding State to State, city to city, through North America;
I see them in Great Britain, I see them in Europe; 
I see them in Asia and in Africa. 

I see the electric telegraphs of the earth; 
I see the fila...Read more of this...
by Whitman, Walt

Scars on Paper

...te enough to take
comfort in being predeceased: the anguish
when the Harlem doctor, the Jewish dancer,
die of AIDS, the Boston seminary's
dean succumbs "after brief illness" to cancer.
I like mossed slabs in country cemeteries
with wide-paced dates, candles in jars, whose tallow
glows on summer evenings, desk-lamp yellow.

Aglow in summer evening, a desk-lamp's yellow
moonlight peruses notebooks, houseplants, texts,
while an aging woman thinks of sex
in the present tense. Des...Read more of this...
by Hacker, Marilyn

Song of the Exposition

...frantic;
With gushing, sentimental reading circles turn’d to ice or stone; 
With many a squeak, (in metre choice,) from Boston, New York, Philadelphia, London; 
As she, the illustrious Emigré, (having, it is true, in her day, although the same,
 changed,
 journey’d considerable,) 
Making directly for this rendezvous—vigorously clearing a path for herself—striding
 through
 the confusion, 
By thud of machinery and shrill steam-whistle undismay’d,
Bluff’d not a bit by drain-pip...Read more of this...
by Whitman, Walt

Suicide Note

...earsed fish jumps 
on the surface of Echo Lake; 
when moonlight, 
its bass note turned up loud, 
hurts some building in Boston, 
when the truly beautiful lie together. 
I think of this, surely, 
and would think of it far longer 
if I were not… if I were not 
at that old fire. 

I could admit 
that I am only a coward 
crying me me me 
and not mention the little gnats, the moths, 
forced by circumstance 
to suck on the electric bulb. 
But surely you know that everyone has a dea...Read more of this...
by Sexton, Anne

The Division Of Parts

...ned Christmas, its scales
rigged and reset,
I bundled out gifts I did not choose.
Now the houts of The Cross
rewind. In Boston, the devout
work their cold knees
toward that sweet martyrdom
that Christ planned. My timely loss
is too customary to note; and yet
I planned to suffer
and I cannot. It does not please
my yankee bones to watch
where the dying is done
in its usly hours. Black birds peck
at my window glass
and Easter will take its ragged son.
The clutter of worship
that...Read more of this...
by Sexton, Anne

The Double Image

...d like an angry guest,
like a partly mended thing, an outgrown child.
I remember my mother did her best.
She took me to Boston and had my hair restyled.
Your smile is like your mother's, the artist said.
I didn't seem to care. I had my portrait
done instead.

There was a church where I grew up
with its white cupboards where they locked us up,
row by row, like puritans or shipmates
singing together. My father passed the plate.
Too late to be forgiven now, the witches said.
I w...Read more of this...
by Sexton, Anne

The Moose

...one bark.

A woman climbs in 
with two market bags,
brisk, freckled, elderly.
"A grand night. Yes, sir,
all the way to Boston."
She regards us amicably.

Moonlight as we enter 
the New Brunswick woods,
hairy, scratchy, splintery;
moonlight and mist
caught in them like lamb's wool
on bushes in a pasture.

The passengers lie back.
Snores. Some long sighs.
A dreamy divagation
begins in the night,
a gentle, auditory,
slow hallucination. . . .

In the creakings and noises,
an old...Read more of this...
by Bishop, Elizabeth

The White Cliffs

...n should be,
Only don't you bring him back to me
Saying he can't get decent tea—
He could have got his tea all right
In Boston Harbour a certain night,
When your great-great-grandmother— also a Sue—
Shook enough tea from her husband's shoe
To supply her house for a week or two.
The war of 1812 seems to me
About as just as a war could be.
How could we help but come to grips
With a nation that stopped and searched our ships,
And took off our seamen for no other reason
Except th...Read more of this...
by Miller, Alice Duer

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