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Famous Cobbled Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry
...ger-tips.
    Such old sweet names are ever on their lips.
    As pleased as little children where these grow
    In cobbled pattens and worn gowns they go,
    Proud of their wisdom when on gooseberry shoots
    They stuck eggshells to fright from coming fruits
    The brisk-billed rascals; pausing still to see
    Their neighbour owls saunter from tree to tree,
    Or in the hushing half-light mouse the lane
    Long-winged and lordly.
    But when those hours wan...Read more of this...
by Blunden, Edmund



...logies especially to Emily Bronte’s ghost -

You are the mostest hostess that I could ever boast

Your heather moor and cobbled street’s allure

Are something I’ve put off until the braw New Year....Read more of this...
by Tebb, Barry
...gallop with gulls upon them
And thunderbolts in their manes.
O Rome and Sodom To-morrow and London
The country tide is cobbled with towns

And steeples pierce the cloud on her shoulder
And the streets that the fisherman combed
When his long-legged flesh was a wind on fire
And his loin was a hunting flame

Coil from the thoroughfares of her hair
And terribly lead him home alive
Lead her prodigal home to his terror,
The furious ox-killing house of love.

Down, down, down, unde...Read more of this...
by Thomas, Dylan
...park, office block,

Grand hotel looming

And no path

But then I found

Back Lane, every

Window blocked,

Every inch cobbled,

A road to nowhere

Built a hundred

Years ago.



I found a gas lamp

Anchored to a corner

Rusty and forgotten

In the glare

Of the million watt

Yorkshire Electricity

Tower of Steel for

The new museum

‘Guns before butter’

And I wonder,

Christian Visionary Poet

Or Regional Romantic

Is there any longer

A place in this city

For me?





7
...Read more of this...
by Tebb, Barry
...ollows; Margaret, hear me,

I know on Eden Street

Your spirit is near me.



44



In the May dawn silence

I walk the cobbled road,

The houses gone for sixty years.



A single wallflower grows

On the ravaged bank.



I pluck the last leaf

Of the mauve forget-me-knot,

The market-man’s mis-spelling

Got to the matter’s heart,

Folding the leaf in my book

With the melody of Gl?ck.





45



The maze in Roundhay Park

Near Soldiers’ Field

Was the labyrinth I cried

To b...Read more of this...
by Tebb, Barry



...
Crumbled to dust and the river-bank rats fed on it

Like Miss Haversham’s wedding feast all over again.





24



The cobbled hill past the Mansions led nowhere,

The buses ran empty, then the route closed.

I returned again and again in friends’ cars,

Now alone, on foot, again and again.



25



Come Whitsuntide the tally-men grew fat:

The poorest kids turned out in new blue

Worsted suits and matching caps, socks in

Scarlet plaid and mirror-shiny shoes so

When that s...Read more of this...
by Tebb, Barry
...the mindless chill that's settled in,
a great stone bird, its wings stretched stiff

from the tip of Letter Hill to the cobbled bay, its gaze
glacial, its hook-and-scrabble claws fast clamped
on every window, its petrifying breath a cage

in which all the warmth we were is shivering....Read more of this...
by Grennan, Eamon
...s, when uttered, like a bell
in your mind's tower, as it did the day
you carried your green schoolbag down the gray
fog-cobbled street, past church, bakery, shul
past farm women setting up market stalls
it was so early. "I am on my way
to school in ." You were part of the town
now, not the furnished rooms you shared
with Mutti, since the others disappeared.
Your knees were red with cold; your itchy wool
socks had inched down, so you stooped to pull
them up, a student and a ci...Read more of this...
by Hacker, Marilyn
...t before they are killed
Can let their veins run cold.
Whom no compassion fleers
Or makes their feet
Sore on the alleys cobbled with their brothers.
The front line withers,
But they are troops who fade, not flowers
For poets' tearful fooling:
Men, gaps for filling
Losses who might have fought
Longer; but no one bothers.


 II

And some cease feeling
Even themselves or for themselves.
Dullness best solves
The tease and doubt of shelling,
And Chance's strange arithmetic
Comes s...Read more of this...
by Owen, Wilfred
...und wanting.

Durham was not my county,

Hardly my country, memories from childhood

Of Hunwick Village with its single cobbled street

Of squat stone cottages and paved yards

With earth closets and stacks of sawn logs

Perfuming the air with their sap

In a way only French poets could say

And that is why we have no word but clich?

‘Reflect’ or ‘make come alive’ or other earthbound

Anglicanisms; yet it is there in Valery Larbaud

‘J’ai senti pour la premiere fois toute la...Read more of this...
by Tebb, Barry
...losed my eyes a moment. 
When I opened them she'd gone, 
the place was dark. I went 
out into the golden sunlight; 
the cobbled streets gleamed 
as after rain, the street cafes 
crowded and alive. Not 
far off the great bell 
of the Westerkirk tolled 
in the early evening. I thought 
of my oldest son, who years 
before had sailed from here 
into an unknown life in Sweden, 
a life which failed, of how 
he'd gone alone to Copenhagen, 
Bremen, where he'd loaded trains, 
Hamburg,...Read more of this...
by Levine, Philip
...try to keep him in,
An old pole for the lightning,
The acid baths, the skyfuls off of you.
He lumps it down the plastic cobbled hill,
Flogged trolley. The sparks are blue.
The blue sparks spill,
Splitting like quartz into a million bits.

O jewel! O valuable!
That night the moon
Dragged its blood bag, sick
Animal
Up over the harbor lights.
And then grew normal,
Hard and apart and white.
The scale-sheen on the sand scared me to death.
We kept picking up handfuls, loving it,
Wo...Read more of this...
by Plath, Sylvia
...t party

Crumbled to dust and the river-bank rats fed on it

Like Miss Haversham’s wedding feast all over again.



The cobbled hill past the Mansions led nowhere,

The buses ran empty, then the route closed.

I returned again and again in friends’ cars,

Now alone, on foot, again and again....Read more of this...
by Tebb, Barry
...your blue and purple dreams
into my ears. The breeze whispers at the shutters and 
mutters
***** tales of old days, and cobbled streets, and youths leaping 
their horses
down marble stairways. Pale blue lavender, you are the 
colour of the sky
when it is fresh-washed and fair . . . I smell the stars . . . they 
are like
tulips and narcissus . . . I smell them in the air....Read more of this...
by Lowell, Amy
...e Christine
And crush her to his lips. How bear delay?
He broke into a run. In front, a line
Of candle-light banded the cobbled street.
Hilverdink's tavern! Not for many a day
Had he been there to take his old, accustomed seat.

49
"Why, Max! Stop, Max!" And 
out they came pell-mell,
His old companions. "Max, where have you been?
Not drink with us? Indeed you serve us well!
How many months is it since we have seen
You here? Jan, Jan, you slow, old doddering goat!
Here's Mynhe...Read more of this...
by Lowell, Amy
...s, and dies.
The bodies of old and young, of maimed and lovely,
Are slowly borne to earth, with a dirge of cries.

Down cobbled streets they come; down huddled stairways;
Through silent halls; through carven golden doorways;
From freezing rooms as bare as rock.
The curtains are closed across deserted windows.
Earth streams out of the shovel; the pebbles knock.

Mary, whose hands rejoiced to move in sunlight;
Silent Elaine; grave Anne, who sang so clearly;
Fugitive Helen, who ...Read more of this...
by Aiken, Conrad
...& stone
here in this blinding, beautiful square
sunlit now as the golden eye of God shoots through
flowers all over the cobbled ground, up in the music
the air brightly cool as light after jeweled rain
still, there are these hats slicing foreheads off in the middle
of crowds that need explaining, the calligraphy of this penumbra
slanting ace-deuce, cocked, carrying the perforated legacy of bebop
these bold, peccadillo, pirouetting pellagras
razor-sharp clean, they cut into ou...Read more of this...
by Troupe, Quincy
...Rolls with six outriders-

This late December day with its sparkle of sun on frost

I’d so much rather be in Haworth’s cobbled street

With cascades of carols in torchlit procession

Or still better with a passionate friend to make love to

By Penistone Crags and then sit in post-coital bliss

In the tea-room, reading Claudel in whispers,

And not as I was, heading for Camden’s

December Trust Board Meeting, of which I’m not a member

But a regular attender, watching the wat...Read more of this...
by Tebb, Barry
...gle of your fingertips,

Your mild perfume. When a sudden gust blew your umbrella inside out

We sheltered underneath a cobbled arch, a rainy arch, a rainbow arch.



“I’m sorry”, you said about nothing in particular, perhaps the class

Gone wrong, the weather, I’ll never know but there were tears in your eyes

But perhaps it was just the rain. We kissed again and I felt

Your soft breasts and smelt the hair on your neck and I was lost to you

And you to me perhaps, I’ll neve...Read more of this...
by Tebb, Barry

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Book: Reflection on the Important Things