Famous Decent Poems by Famous Poets

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

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The Gardener XLII: O Mad Superbly Drunk

by Rabindranath Tagore
 O mad, superbly drunk;
If you kick open your doors and
play the fool in public;
If you empty your bag in a night, 
and snap your fingers at prudence;
If you walk in curious paths and
play with useless things;
Reck not rhyme or reason;
If unfurling your sails before the
storm you snap the rudder in two,
Then I will follow you, comrade,
and be drunken and...Read more of this...

The Bee and the Butterfly

by Mary Darby Robinson
 UPON a garden's perfum'd bed 
With various gaudy colours spread, 
Beneath the shelter of a ROSE 
A BUTTERFLY had sought repose; 
Faint, with the sultry beams of day, 
Supine the beauteous insect lay. 

A BEE, impatient to devour
The nectar sweets of ev'ry flow'r, 
Returning to her golden store, 
A weight of fragrant treasure bore; 
With envious eye, she mark'd...Read more of this...

Raising The Flag

by Robert William Service
 Behold! the Spanish flag they're raising
Before the Palace courtyard gate;
To watch its progress bold and blazing
Two hundred patient people wait.
Though bandsmen play the anthem bravely
The silken emblem seems to lag;
Two hundred people watch it gravely -
But only two salute the flag.

Fine-clad and arrogant of manner
The twain are like dark dons of old,
And to that high and haughty banner
Uplifted palms...Read more of this...

Swing Shift Blues

by Alan Dugan
 What is better than leaving a bar
in the middle of the afternoon
besides staying in it or not
having gone into it in the first place
because you had a decent woman to be with?
The air smells particularly fresh
after the stale beer and piss smells.
You can stare up at the whole sky:
it's blue and white and does not
stare back at you like...Read more of this...

The Working Party

by Siegfried Sassoon
 Three hours ago he blundered up the trench, 
Sliding and poising, groping with his boots; 
Sometimes he tripped and lurched against the walls 
With hands that pawed the sodden bags of chalk. 
He couldn't see the man who walked in front; 
Only he heard the drum and rattle of feet 
Stepping along barred trench boards, often splashing 
Wretchedly where...Read more of this...

The Law Of The Yukon

by Robert William Service
 This is the law of the Yukon, and ever she makes it plain:
"Send not your foolish and feeble; send me your strong and your sane --
Strong for the red rage of battle; sane for I harry them sore;
Send me men girt for the combat, men who are grit to the core;
Swift as the panther in triumph, fierce as the...Read more of this...

87. The Twa Dogs

by Robert Burns
 ’TWAS 1 in that place o’ Scotland’s isle,
That bears the name o’ auld King Coil,
Upon a bonie day in June,
When wearin’ thro’ the afternoon,
Twa dogs, that were na thrang at hame,
Forgather’d ance upon a time.
 The first I’ll name, they ca’d him Caesar,
Was keepit for His Honor’s pleasure:
His hair, his size, his mouth, his lugs,
Shew’d he was nane o’...Read more of this...

Self-Portrait 1969

by Frank Bidart
 He's still young--; thirty, but looks younger--
or does he?... In the eyes and cheeks, tonight,
turning in the mirror, he saw his mother,--
puffy; angry; bewildered... Many nights,
now, when he stares there, he gets angry:--
something unfulfilled there, something dead
to what he once thought he surely could be--
Now, just the glamour of habits...
 Once, instead,
he thought insight would remake him, he'd reach
--what?...Read more of this...

Madam La Maquise

by Robert William Service
 Said Hongray de la Glaciere unto his proud Papa:
"I want to take a wife mon Père," The Marquis laughed: "Ha! Ha!
And whose, my son?" he slyly said; but Hongray with a frown
Cried, "Fi! Papa, I mean - to wed, I want to settle down."
The Marquis de la Glaciere responded with a smile;
"You're young my boy; I much prefer that...Read more of this...

Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady

by Alexander Pope
 What beck'ning ghost, along the moon-light shade
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?
'Tis she!--but why that bleeding bosom gor'd,
Why dimly gleams the visionary sword?
Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly! tell,
Is it, in heav'n, a crime to love too well?
To bear too tender, or too firm a heart,
To act a lover's or a Roman's part?
Is there no bright reversion in...Read more of this...

The Carpenters Son

by A E Housman
 "Here the hangman stops his cart: 
Now the best of friends must part. 
Fare you well, for ill fare I: 
Live, lads, and I will die. 

"Oh, at home had I but stayed 
'Prenticed to my father's trade, 
Had I stuck to plane and adze, 
I had not been lost, my lads. 

"Then I might have built perhaps 
Gallows-trees...Read more of this...

1. Song—Handsome Nell

by Robert Burns
 O ONCE I lov’d a bonie lass,
 Ay, and I love her still;
And whilst that virtue warms my breast,
 I’ll love my handsome Nell.


As bonie lasses I hae seen,
 And mony full as braw;
But, for a modest gracefu’ mein,
 The like I never saw.


A bonie lass, I will confess,
 Is pleasant to the e’e;
But, without some better qualities,
 She’s...Read more of this...

A Working Party

by Siegfried Sassoon
 Three hours ago he blundered up the trench, 
Sliding and poising, groping with his boots; 
Sometimes he tripped and lurched against the walls 
With hands that pawed the sodden bags of chalk. 
He couldn't see the man who walked in front; 
Only he heard the drum and rattle of feet 
Stepping along barred trench boards, often splashing 
Wretchedly where...Read more of this...

Additions

by Thomas Hardy
 The Fire at Tranter Sweatley's

THEY had long met o' Zundays--her true love and she--
And at junketings, maypoles, and flings;
But she bode wi' a thirtover uncle, and he
Swore by noon and by night that her goodman should be
Naibor Sweatley--a gaffer oft weak at the knee
From taking o' sommat more cheerful than tea--
Who tranted, and moved people's things.

She cried, "O pray...Read more of this...

The Volunteer

by Robert William Service
 Sez I: My Country calls? Well, let it call.
 I grins perlitely and declines wiv thanks.
Go, let 'em plaster every blighted wall,
 'Ere's ONE they don't stampede into the ranks.
Them politicians with their greasy ways;
 Them empire-grabbers -- fight for 'em? No fear!
I've seen this mess a-comin' from the days
 Of Algyserious and Aggydear:
 I've felt me passion rise...Read more of this...

The Funeral of Youth: Threnody

by Rupert Brooke
 The Day that Youth had died,
There came to his grave-side, 
In decent mourning, from the country’s ends, 
Those scatter’d friends 
Who had lived the boon companions of his prime,
And laughed with him and sung with him and wasted, 
In feast and wine and many-crown’d carouse, 
The days and nights and dawnings of the time 
When Youth kept open house,...Read more of this...

The Widower

by Robert William Service
 Oh I have worn my mourning out,
And on her grave the green grass grows;
So I will hang each sorry clout
High in the corn to scare the crows.
And I will buy a peacock tie,
And coat of cloth of Donegal;
Then to the Farmer's Fair I'll hie
And peek in at the Barley Ball.

But though the fiddlers saw a jig
I used to foot...Read more of this...

The Fugitive

by Mary Darby Robinson
 Oft have I seen yon Solitary Man
Pacing the upland meadow. On his brow
Sits melancholy, mark'd with decent pride,
As it would fly the busy, taunting world,
And feed upon reflection. Sometimes, near
The foot of an old Tree, he takes his seat
And with the page of legendary lore
Cheats the dull hour, while Evening's sober eye
Looks tearful as it closes. In the dell
By...Read more of this...

The Rain

by Robert Creeley
 All night the sound had
come back again,
and again falls
this quite, persistent rain.

What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often? Is it

that never the ease,
even the hardness,
of rain falling
will have for me

something other than this,
something not so insistent--
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness.

Love, if you love me,
lie next to me.
Be for me, like rain,
the getting out

of...Read more of this...

Ill tell you what you Wanderers

by Henry Lawson
 I'll tell you what you wanderers, who drift from town to town; 
Don't look into a good girl's eyes, until you've settled down. 
It's hard to go away alone and leave old chums behind- 
It's hard to travel steerage when your tastes are more refined- 
To reach a place when times are bad, and to be standing there, 
No...Read more of this...

Hail! Childish Slave Of Social Rules

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 HAIL! Childish slaves of social rules
You had yourselves a hand in making!
How I could shake your faith, ye fools,
If but I thought it worth the shaking.
I see, and pity you; and then
Go, casting off the idle pity,
In search of better, braver men,
My own way freely through the city.

My own way freely, and not yours;
And, careless of a town's abusing,
Seek...Read more of this...

Dan The Wreck

by Henry Lawson
 Tall, and stout, and solid-looking, 
Yet a wreck; 
None would think Death's finger's hooking 
Him from deck. 
Cause of half the fun that's started -- 
`Hard-case' Dan -- 
Isn't like a broken-hearted, 
Ruined man. 

Walking-coat from tail to throat is 
Frayed and greened -- 
Like a man whose other coat is 
Being cleaned; 
Gone for ever round the edging...Read more of this...

Horatio

by Robert William Service
 His portrait hung upon the wall.
 Oh how at us he used to stare.
Each Sunday when I made my call! --
 And when one day it wasn't there,
Quite quick I seemed to understand
 The light was green to hold her hand.

Her eyes were amorously lit;
 I knew she wouldn't mind at all.
Yet what I did was sit and sit
...Read more of this...

The Hypnotist

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 A man once read with mind surprised 
Of the way that people were "hypnotised"; 
By waving hands you produced, forsooth, 
A kind of trance where men told the truth! 
His mind was filled with wond'ring doubt; 
He grabbed his hat and he started out, 
He walked the street and he made a "set" 
At the first half-dozen folk he...Read more of this...

Funeral Of Youth The: Threnody

by Rupert Brooke
 The day that YOUTH had died,
There came to his grave-side,
In decent mourning, from the country's ends,
Those scatter'd friends
Who had lived the boon companions of his prime,
And laughed with him and sung with him and wasted,
In feast and wine and many-crown'd carouse,
The days and nights and dawnings of the time
When YOUTH kept open house,
Nor left untasted
Aught of his high emprise...Read more of this...

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