Famous Collector Poems by Famous Poets

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

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The discreet collector

by Eugene Field
 Down south there is a curio-shop
Unknown to many men;
Thereat do I intend to stop
When I am south again;
The narrow street through which to go--
Aha! I know it well!
And may be you would like to know--
But no--I will not tell!

'T is there to find the loveliest plates
(The bluest of the blue!)
At such surprisingly low rates
You'd not believe it true!
And there...Read more of this...

christmas the delinquent

by Rg Gregory
 i got nothing last year
and i expect nothing this
so i've got to find
if i'm to be rewarded

so all good people
you'd better learn to give
from the goodness of your heart 
or at knife-point

i'm a taker by trade
takers is keepers
it won't hurt you to bleed
it's a good colour - red

give of your blood
you're not having mine
i'm the collector
santa looks after himself

your...Read more of this...

Stamp Collector

by Robert William Service
 My worldly wealth I hoard in albums three,
My life collection of rare postage stamps;
My room is cold and bare as you can see,
My coat is old and shabby as a tramp's;
Yet more to me than balances in banks,
My albums three are worth a million francs.

I keep them in that box beside my bed,
For who would dream such treasures it...Read more of this...

Come-by-Chance

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 As I pondered very weary o'er a volume long and dreary -- 
For the plot was void of interest; 'twas the Postal Guide, in fact -- 
There I learnt the true location, distance, size and population 
Of each township, town, and village in the radius of the Act. 
And I learnt that Puckawidgee stands beside the Murrumbidgee, 
And the...Read more of this...

A Life

by Sylvia Plath
 Touch it: it won't shrink like an eyeball,
This egg-shaped bailiwick, clear as a tear.
Here's yesterday, last year ---
Palm-spear and lily distinct as flora in the vast
Windless threadwork of a tapestry.

Flick the glass with your fingernail:
It will ping like a Chinese chime in the slightest air stir
Though nobody in there looks up or bothers to answer.
The inhabitants are light as...Read more of this...

A Grave

by Marianne Moore
 Man looking into the sea,
taking the view from those who have as much right to it as
 you have to it yourself,
it is human nature to stand in the middle of a thing,
but you cannot stand in the middle of this;
the sea has nothing to give but a well excavated grave.
The firs stand in a procession, each with an...Read more of this...

A Hundred Collars

by Robert Frost
 Lancaster bore him--such a little town, 
Such a great man. It doesn't see him often 
Of late years, though he keeps the old homestead 
And sends the children down there with their mother 
To run wild in the summer--a little wild. 
Sometimes he joins them for a day or two 
And sees old friends he somehow can't get near....Read more of this...

One From One Leaves Two

by Ogden Nash
 Higgledy piggledy, my black hen,
She lays eggs for gentlemen.
Gentlemen come every day
To count what my black hen doth lay.
If perchance she lays too many,
They fine my hen a pretty penny;
If perchance she fails to lay,
The gentlemen a bonus pay.

Mumbledy pumbledy, my red cow,
She’s cooperating now.
At first she didn’t understand
That milk production must be planned;
She didn’t understand at first
She either...Read more of this...

547. Verses to Collector Mitchell

by Robert Burns
 FRIEND of the Poet, tried and leal,
Wha, wanting thee, might beg or steal;
Alake, alake, the meikle deil
 Wi’ a’ his witches
Are at it skelpin jig and reel,
 In my poor pouches?


I modestly fu’ fain wad hint it,
That One-pound-one, I sairly want it;
If wi’ the hizzie down ye sent it,
 It would be kind;
And while my heart wi’ life-blood dunted,
...Read more of this...

The Mystery Of Mister Smith

by Robert William Service
 For supper we had curried tripe.
I washed the dishes, wound the clock;
Then for awhile I smoked my pipe -
Puff! Puff! We had no word of talk.
The Misses sewed - a sober pair;
Says I at last: "I need some air."

A don't know why I acted so;
I had no thought, no plot, no plan.
I did not really mean to go -
I'm...Read more of this...

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