Famous Bronzed Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Roadways

by John Masefield
 ONE road leads to London, 
One road leads to Wales, 
My road leads me seawards 
To the white dipping sails. 

One road leads to the river, 
And it goes singing slow; 
My road leads to shipping, 
Where the bronzed sailors go. 

Leads me, lures me, calls me 
To salt green tossing sea; 
A road without earth's road-dust 
Is the...Read more of this...

The Revelation

by Robert William Service
 The same old sprint in the morning, boys, to the same old din and smut;
Chained all day to the same old desk, down in the same old rut;
Posting the same old greasy books, catching the same old train:
Oh, how will I manage to stick it all, if I ever get back again?

We've bidden good-bye to life in a cage,...Read more of this...

Autumn

by Siegfried Sassoon
 October's bellowing anger breaks and cleaves 
The bronzed battalions of the stricken wood 
In whose lament I hear a voice that grieves 
For battle’s fruitless harvest, and the feud 
Of outraged men. Their lives are like the leaves
Scattered in flocks of ruin, tossed and blown 
Along the westering furnace flaring red. 
O martyred youth and manhood overthrown, 
The burden...Read more of this...

The Younger Son

by Robert William Service
 If you leave the gloom of London and you seek a glowing land,
 Where all except the flag is strange and new,
There's a bronzed and stalwart fellow who will grip you by the hand,
 And greet you with a welcome warm and true;
For he's your younger brother, the one you sent away
 Because there wasn't room for him at...Read more of this...

Post Office Romance

by Robert William Service
 The lady at the corner wicket
Sold me a stamp, I stooped to lick it,
And on the envelope to stick it;
A spinster lacking girlish grace,
Yet sweetly sensitive, her face
Seemed to en-star that stodgy place. 

Said I: "I've come from o'er the sea
To ask you if you'll marry me -
That is to say, if you are free.
I see your gentle features...Read more of this...

Heritage

by Countee Cullen
 What is Africa to me:
Copper sun or scarlet sea,
Jungle star or jungle track,
Strong bronzed men, or regal black
Women from whose loins I sprang
When the birds of Eden sang?
One three centuries removed
From the scenes his fathers loved,
Spicy grove, cinnamon tree,
What is Africa to me?

So I lie, who all day long
Want no sound except the song
Sung by wild barbaric birds
Goading massive...Read more of this...

The Roaring Days

by Henry Lawson
 The night too quickly passes 
And we are growing old, 
So let us fill our glasses 
And toast the Days of Gold; 
When finds of wondrous treasure 
Set all the South ablaze, 
And you and I were faithful mates 
All through the roaring days! 

Then stately ships came sailing 
From every harbour's mouth, 
And sought the land of promise...Read more of this...

The Cambaroora Star

by Henry Lawson
 So you're writing for a paper? Well, it's nothing very new 
To be writing yards of drivel for a tidy little screw; 
You are young and educated, and a clever chap you are, 
But you'll never run a paper like the CAMBAROORA STAR. 
Though in point of education I am nothing but a dunce, 
I myself -- you mayn't...Read more of this...

Mount Bukaroo

by Henry Lawson
 Only one old post is standing -- 
Solid yet, but only one -- 
Where the milking, and the branding, 
And the slaughtering were done. 
Later years have brought dejection, 
Care, and sorrow; but we knew 
Happy days on that selection 
Underneath old Bukaroo. 

Then the light of day commencing 
Found us at the gully's head, 
Splitting timber for the...Read more of this...

Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight

by Vachel Lindsay
 In Springfield, Illinois

IT is portentious, and a thing of state 
That here at midnight, in our little town 
A mourning figure walks, and will not rest, 
Near the old court-house, pacing up and down. 

Or by his homestead, or by shadowed yards 
He lingers where his children used to play, 
Or through the market, on the well-worn stones 
He...Read more of this...

Waring

by Robert Browning
 I

What's become of Waring
Since he gave us all the slip,
Chose land-travel or seafaring,
Boots and chest, or staff and scrip,
Rather than pace up and down
Any longer London-town?

Who'd have guessed it from his lip,
Or his brow's accustomed bearing,
On the night he thus took ship,
Or started landward?—little caring
For us, it seems, who supped together,
(Friends of his too, I remember)
And walked home through...Read more of this...

Where We Live Now

by Philip Levine
 1 

We live here because the houses 
are clean, the lawns run 
right to the street 

and the streets run away. 
No one walks here. 
No one wakens at night or dies. 

The cars sit open-eyed 
in the driveways. 
The lights are on all day. 

2 

At home forever, she has removed 
her long foreign names 
that stained her...Read more of this...

The Christ of the Never

by Henry Lawson
 With eyes that are narrowed to pierce
To the awful horizons of land,
Through the blaze of hot days, and the fierce
White heat-waves that flow on the sand;
Through the Never Land westward and nor'ward,
Bronzed, bearded, and gaunt on the track,
Low-voiced and hard-knuckled, rides forward
The Christ of the Outer Out-back.

For the cause that will ne'er be relinquished
Despite all the cynics on earth---
In...Read more of this...

Two Sisters Of Persephone

by Sylvia Plath
 Two girls there are : within the house
One sits; the other, without.
Daylong a duet of shade and light
Plays between these. 

In her dark wainscoted room
The first works problems on
A mathematical machine.
Dry ticks mark time 

As she calculates each sum.
At this barren enterprise
Rat-shrewd go her squint eyes,
Root-pale her meager frame. 

Bronzed as earth, the second lies,
Hearing ticks blown gold
Like pollen...Read more of this...

The First Grenadier of France

by William Topaz McGonagall
 'Twas in a certain regiment of French Grenadiers,
A touching and beautiful custom was observed many years;
Which was meant to commemorate the heroism of a departed comrade,
And when the companies assembled for parade,
There was one name at roll call to which no answer was made 

It was that of the noble La Tour d'Auvergne,
The first Grenadier of France, heroic and...Read more of this...

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