Famous Distinguish Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Seven Strophes

by Joseph Brodsky
I was but what you'd brush
with your palm what your leaning
brow would hunch to in evening's
raven-black hush.

I was but what your gaze
in that dark could distinguish:
a dim shape to begin with 
later - features a face.

It was you on my right 
on my left with your heated
sighs who molded my helix
whispering at my side.

It was you by that black
window's trembling...Read more of this...

J. Milton Miles

by Edgar Lee Masters
 Whenever the Presbyterian bell
Was rung by itself, I knew it as the Presbyterian bell.
But when its sound was mingled
With the sound of the Methodist, the Christian,
The Baptist and the Congregational,
I could no longer distinguish it,
Nor any one from the others, or either of them.
And as many voices called to me in life
Marvel not that I could not tell
The true...Read more of this...

All Night All Night

by Delmore Schwartz
 "I have been one acquainted with the night" - Robert Frost


Rode in the train all night, in the sick light. A bird
Flew parallel with a singular will. In daydream's moods and
 attitudes
The other passengers slumped, dozed, slept, read,
Waiting, and waiting for place to be displaced
On the exact track of safety or the rack of accident.

Looked out at the night,...Read more of this...

Love Among The Ruins

by Robert Browning
 I

Where the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles
 Miles and miles
On the solitary pastures where our sheep
 Half-asleep
Tinkle homeward thro' the twilight, stray or stop
 As they crop— 
Was the site once of a city great and gay,
 (So they say)
Of our country's very capital, its prince
 Ages since
Held his court in, gathered councils, wielding far
 Peace or war.

II

Now—the country...Read more of this...

The Poets Forge

by Helen Hunt Jackson
 He lies on his back, the idling smith, 
A lazy, dreaming fellow is he; 
The sky is blue, or the sky is gray, 
He lies on his back the livelong day, 
Not a tool in sight, say what they may, 
A curious sort of smith is he. 

The powers of the air are in league with him; 
The country...Read more of this...

Ardour of senses, ardour of hearts

by Emile Verhaeren
Ardour of senses, ardour of hearts, ardour of souls, vain words created by those who diminish love; sun, you do not distinguish among your flames those of evening, of dawn, or of noon!
You walk blinded by your own light in the torrid azure under the great arched skies, knowing nothing, unless it be that your strength is all-powerful and that...Read more of this...

Dream Song 60: Afters eight years be less dan eight percent

by John Berryman
 Afters eight years, be less dan eight percent,
distinguish' friend, of coloured wif de whites
in de School, in de Souf.
-”Is coloured gobs, is coloured officers,
Mr Bones. Dat's nuffin?-”Uncle Tom,
sweep shut yo mouf,

is million blocking from de proper job,
de fairest houses & de churches eben.
-”You may be right, Friend Bones.
Indeed you is. Defy flyin ober de world,
de pilots, ober ofays. Bit...Read more of this...

What Were They Like?

by Denise Levertov
 Did the people of Viet Nam
use lanterns of stone?
Did they hold ceremonies
to reverence the opening of buds?
Were they inclined to quiet laughter?
Did they use bone and ivory,
jade and silver, for ornament?
Had they an epic poem?
Did they distinguish between speech and singing?

Sir, their light hearts turned to stone.
It is not remembered whether in gardens
stone gardens illumined pleasant ways.
Perhaps they gathered...Read more of this...

Childhood

by Rainer Maria Rilke
 HOW I could see through and through you!
So unconscious, tender, kind,
More than ever was known to you
Of the pure ways of your mind.


We who long to rest from strife
Labour sternly as a duty;
But a magic in your life
Charms, unknowing of its beauty.


We are pools whose depths are told;
You are like a mystic fountain,
Issuing ever pure and cold
From the hollows...Read more of this...

The Meeting

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
 After so long an absence 
At last we meet agin: 
Does the meeting give us pleasure, 
Or does it give us pain? 

The tree of life has been shaken, 
And but few of us linger now, 
Like the prophets two or three berries 
In the top of the uppermost bough. 

We cordially greet each other 
In the old, familiar...Read more of this...

Croquis

by William Ernest Henley
 The beach was crowded. Pausing now and then,
He groped and fiddled doggedly along,
His worn face glaring on the thoughtless throng
The stony peevishness of sightless men.
He seemed scarce older than his clothes. Again,
Grotesquing thinly many an old sweet song,
So cracked his fiddle, his hand so frail and wrong,
You hardly could distinguish one in ten.
He stopped at last, and sat him...Read more of this...

Upon Nothing

by John Wilmot
 Nothing, thou elder brother even to shade,
That hadst a being ere the world was made,
And (well fixed) art alone of ending not afraid.
Ere time and place were, time and place were not,
When primitive Nothing Something straight begot,
Then all proceeded from the great united--What?
Something, the general attribute of all,
Severed from thee, its sole original,
Into thy boundless self must undistinguished fall.
Yet...Read more of this...

Duino Elegies: The First Elegy

by Rainer Maria Rilke
 Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so...Read more of this...

The Admirations -- and Contempts -- of time --

by Emily Dickinson
 The Admirations -- and Contempts -- of time --
Show justest -- through an Open Tomb --
The Dying -- as it were a Height
Reorganizes Estimate
And what We saw not
We distinguish clear --
And mostly -- see not
What We saw before --

'Tis Compound Vision --
Light -- enabling Light --
The Finite -- furnished
With the Infinite --
Convex -- and Concave Witness --
Back -- toward...Read more of this...

Sighs of Autumn Rain (2)

by Du Fu
 Continuous wind long rain autumn numerous and confused Four seas eight wastes together one cloud Go horse come ox no longer distinguish Muddy Jing clear Wei how now distinguish Grain head grow ear millet ear black Farmer field wife without news City in ten litres rice exchange quilt silk Agree better consider both mutual worth ...Read more of this...

Darius

by Constantine P Cavafy
 The poet Phernazis is composing
the important part of his epic poem.
How Darius, son of Hystaspes,
assumed the kingdom of the Persians. (From him
is descended our glorious king
Mithridates, Dionysus and Eupator). But here
philosophy is needed; he must analyze
the sentiments that Darius must have had:
maybe arrogance and drunkenness; but no -- rather
like an understanding of the vanity of grandeurs.
The poet contemplates the...Read more of this...

Picture-Writing

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
 In those days said Hiawatha,
"Lo! how all things fade and perish!
From the memory of the old men
Pass away the great traditions,
The achievements of the warriors,
The adventures of the hunters,
All the wisdom of the Medas,
All the craft of the Wabenos,
All the marvellous dreams and visions
Of the Jossakeeds, the Prophets!
"Great men die and are forgotten,
Wise men speak; their words of wisdom
Perish...Read more of this...

A Dialogue Of Self And Soul

by William Butler Yeats
 My Soul. I summon to the winding ancient stair;
Set all your mind upon the steep ascent,
Upon the broken, crumbling battlement,
Upon the breathless starlit air,
"Upon the star that marks the hidden pole;
Fix every wandering thought upon
That quarter where all thought is done:
Who can distinguish darkness from the soul

My Self. The consecretes blade upon my knees
Is Sato's ancient blade, still as...Read more of this...

Introduction To The Song Of Hiawatha

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
 Should you ask me, 
whence these stories? 
Whence these legends and traditions, 
With the odors of the forest 
With the dew and damp of meadows,
With the curling smoke of wigwams,
With the rushing of great rivers,
With their frequent repetitions,
And their wild reverberations
As of thunder in the mountains?
I should answer, I should tell you,
"From the forests and the prairies,
From the great...Read more of this...

To Find God

by Robert Herrick
Weigh me the fire; or canst thou find
A way to measure out the wind?
Distinguish all those floods that are
Mixed in that wat'ry theater,
And taste thou them as saltless there,
As in their channel first they were.
Tell me the people that do keep
Within the kingdoms of the deep;
Or fetch me back that cloud again,
Beshivered into seeds of rain.
Tell me the motes, dust,...Read more of this...

In A Vacant House

by Philip Levine
 Someone was calling someone; 
now they've stopped. Beyond the glass 
the rose vines quiver as in 
a light wind, but there is none: 
I hear nothing. The moments pass, 
or seem to pass, and the sun, 
risen above the old birch, 
steadies for the downward arch. 

It is noon. Privacy is 
one thing, but to be alone, 
to speak...Read more of this...

To Ben Jonson upon Occasion of his Ode of Defiance Annexed t

by Thomas Carew
 'Tis true, dear Ben, thy just chastising hand 
Hath fix'd upon the sotted age a brand 
To their swoll'n pride and empty scribbling due; 
It can nor judge, nor write, and yet 'tis true 
Thy comic muse, from the exalted line 
Touch'd by thy Alchemist, doth since decline 
From that her zenith, and foretells a red 
And blushing evening,...Read more of this...

Pleasure XXIV

by Kahlil Gibran
 Then a hermit, who visited the city once a year, came forth and said, "Speak to us of Pleasure." 

And he answered, saying: 

Pleasure is a freedom song, 

But it is not freedom. 

It is the blossoming of your desires, 

But it is not their fruit. 

It is a depth calling unto a height, 

But it is not the...Read more of this...

Requiem

by Anna Akhmatova
 Not under foreign skies
 Nor under foreign wings protected -
 I shared all this with my own people
 There, where misfortune had abandoned us.
 [1961]

INSTEAD OF A PREFACE

During the frightening years of the Yezhov terror, I
spent seventeen months waiting in prison queues in
Leningrad. One day, somehow, someone 'picked me out'.
On that occasion there was a woman standing behind me,
her...Read more of this...

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