Famous Envelope Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Our Lady Peace

by Mark Van Doren
 How far is it to peace, the piper sighed,
The solitary, sweating as he paused.
Asphalt the noon; the ravens, terrified,
Fled carrion thunder that percussion caused.

The envelope of earth was powder loud;
The taut wings shivered, driven at the sun.
The piper put his pipe away and bowed.
Not here, he said. I hunt the love-cool one,

The dancer with the clipped hair. Where is...Read more of this...

Charity

by Robert William Service
 The Princess was of ancient line,
 Of royal race was she;
Like cameo her face was fine,
 With sad serentiy:
Yet bent she toiled with dimming eye,
 Her rice and milk to buy.

With lacework that for pity plead,
 So out of date it seemed,
She sought to make her daily bread,
 As of her past she dreamed:
And though sometimes I heard her...Read more of this...

To One Shortly to Die

by Walt Whitman
 1
FROM all the rest I single out you, having a message for you: 
You are to die—Let others tell you what they please, I cannot prevaricate, 
I am exact and merciless, but I love you—There is no escape for you. 

Softly I lay my right hand upon you—you just feel it, 
I do not argue—I bend my head close,...Read more of this...

Our Pote

by Robert William Service
 A pote is sure a goofy guy;
He ain't got guts like you or I
 To tell the score;
He ain't goy gumption 'nuff to know
The game of life's to get the dough,
 Then get some more.
Take Brother Bill, he used to be
The big shot of the family,
 The first at school;
But since about a year ago,
Through readin' Longfeller and Poe,
...Read more of this...

When you are in the company of a beauty with cypress-like

by Omar Khayyam
When you are in the company of a beauty with cypress-like
figure and a color fresher than the newly-culled
rose, put not far from thee the flowers of the field, nor
let the cup escape from thy hand; [do this] before the
north-wind of death, like a gale which disperses the
leaves of the roses, tears in tatters the envelope of thy
being....Read more of this...

The House Of Dust: Part 04: 01: Clairvoyant

by Conrad Aiken
 'This envelope you say has something in it
Which once belonged to your dead son—or something
He knew, was fond of? Something he remembers?—
The soul flies far, and we can only call it
By things like these . . . a photograph, a letter,
Ribbon, or charm, or watch . . . '

. . . Wind flows softly, the long slow even wind,
Over...Read more of this...

June Dreams In January

by Sidney Lanier
 "So pulse, and pulse, thou rhythmic-hearted Noon
That liest, large-limbed, curved along the hills,
In languid palpitation, half a-swoon
With ardors and sun-loves and subtle thrills;

"Throb, Beautiful! while the fervent hours exhale
As kisses faint-blown from thy finger-tips
Up to the sun, that turn him passion-pale
And then as red as any virgin's lips.

"O tender Darkness, when June-day hath ceased,
-- Faint Odor from the day-flower's...Read more of this...

A Following

by Charles Bukowski
 the phone rang at 1:30 a.m.
 and it was a man from Denver:

 "Chinaski, you got a following in
 Denver..."
 "yeah?"
 "yeah, I got a magazine and I want some
 poems from you..."
 "**** YOU, CHINASKI!" I heard a voice
 in the background...
 "I see you have a friend,"
 I said.
 "yeah," he answered, "now, I want
 six poems..."
...Read more of this...

The Wood-Cutter

by Robert William Service
 The sky is like an envelope,
 One of those blue official things;
 And, sealing it, to mock our hope,
 The moon, a silver wafer, clings.
 What shall we find when death gives leave
 To read--our sentence or reprieve?

I'm holding it down on God's scrap-pile, up on the ***-end of earth;
 O'er me a menace of mountains, a river that...Read more of this...

Come up from the Fields Father

by Walt Whitman
 1
COME up from the fields, father, here’s a letter from our Pete; 
And come to the front door, mother—here’s a letter from thy dear son. 

2
Lo, ’tis autumn; 
Lo, where the trees, deeper green, yellower and redder, 
Cool and sweeten Ohio’s villages, with leaves fluttering in the moderate wind;
Where apples ripe in the orchards hang, and grapes on the...Read more of this...

The Ghosts

by Robert William Service
 Smith, great writer of stories, drank; found it immortalized his pen;
Fused in his brain-pan, else a blank, heavens of glory now and then;
Gave him the magical genius touch; God-given power to gouge out, fling
Flat in your face a soul-thought -- Bing!
Twiddle your heart-strings in his clutch. "Bah!" said Smith, "let my body lie
 stripped to the buff in swinish...Read more of this...

For K. J. Leaving and Coming Back

by Marilyn Hacker
 August First: it was a year ago
we drove down from St.-Guilhem-le-Désert
to open the house in St. Guiraud

rented unseen. I'd stay; you'd go; that's where
our paths diverged. I'd settle down to work,
you'd start the next month of your Wanderjahr.

I turned the iron key in the rusted lock
(it came, like a detective-story clue,
in a manila envelope, postmarked

elsewhere, unmarked otherwise) while you
stood...Read more of this...

Inspiration

by Robert William Service
 How often have I started out
With no thought in my noodle,
And wandered here and there about,
Where fancy bade me toddle;
Till feeling faunlike in my glee
I've voiced some gay distiches,
Returning joyfully to tea,
A poem in my britches.

A-squatting on a thymy slope
With vast of sky about me,
I've scribbled on an envelope
The rhymes the hills would shout me;
The couplets that the trees...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...

The Appointment

by Ruth Padel
 Flamingo silk. New ruff, 
the ivory ghost 
of a halter. Chestnut curls,

*

commas behind the ear.
"Taller, by half a head, 
than my Lord Walsingham."

*

His Devon-cream brogue,
malt eyes. New cloak 
mussed in her mud.

*

The Queen leans forward,
a rosy envelope of civet.
A cleavage

*

whispering seed pearls.
Her own sleeve 
rubs that speck of dirt

*

on his cheek. Three thousand 
ornamental fruit baskets
swing in the smoke.

*

"It...Read more of this...

Spirit Dity Of No Fax Line Dial Tone

by Bob Hicok
 The telephone company calls and asks what the fuss is. 
Betty from the telephone company, who's not concerned 
with the particulars of my life. For instance 
if I believe in the transubstantiation of Christ 
or am gladdened at 7:02 in the morning to repeat 
an eighth time why a man wearing a hula skirt of tools 
slung low on...Read more of this...

Cinderella

by Anne Sexton
 You always read about it:
the plumber with the twelve children
who wins the Irish Sweepstakes.
From toilets to riches.
That story.

Or the nursemaid,
some luscious sweet from Denmark
who captures the oldest son's heart.
from diapers to Dior.
That story.

Or a milkman who serves the wealthy,
eggs, cream, butter, yogurt, milk,
the white truck like an ambulance
who goes into real estate
and makes a pile.
From homogenized to martinis at...Read more of this...

Advice to the Grub Street Verse-writers

by Jonathan Swift
 Ye poets ragged and forlorn,
Down from your garrets haste;
Ye rhymers, dead as soon as born,
Not yet consign'd to paste;
I know a trick to make you thrive;
O, 'tis a quaint device:
Your still-born poems shall revive,
And scorn to wrap up spice.
Get all your verses printed fair,
Then let them well be dried;
And Curll must have a special care
To leave the margin wide.

Lend...Read more of this...

The House Of Dust: Part 04: 02: Death: And A Derisive Chorus

by Conrad Aiken
 The door is shut. She leaves the curtained office,
And down the grey-walled stairs comes trembling slowly
Towards the dazzling street.
Her withered hand clings tightly to the railing.
The long stairs rise and fall beneath her feet.

Here in the brilliant sun we jostle, waiting
To tear her secret out . . . We laugh, we hurry,
We go our way, revolving, sinister, slow.
She blinks...Read more of this...

All The Things You Are Not Yet

by Helen Dunmore
 for tess

Tonight there's a crowd in my head:
all the things you are not yet.
You are words without paper, pages
sighing in summer forests, gardens
where builders stub out their rubble 
and plastic oozes its sweat.
All the things you are, you are not yet.

Not yet the lonely window in midwinter
with the whine of tea on an empty stomach,
not yet the heating you...Read more of this...

Telegram

by Carl Sandburg
 I SAW a telegram handed a two hundred pound man at a desk. And the little scrap of paper charged the air like a set of crystals in a chemist’s tube to a whispering pinch of salt.
Cross my heart, the two hundred pound man had just cracked a joke about a new hat he got his wife, when the...Read more of this...

The Cockney Soul

by Henry Lawson
 From Woolwich and Brentford and Stamford Hill, from Richmond into the Strand, 
Oh, the Cockney soul is a silent soul – as it is in every land! 
But out on the sand with a broken band it's sarcasm spurs them through; 
And, with never a laugh, in a gale and a half, 'tis the Cockney cheers the crew. 

Oh,...Read more of this...

They Did Not Expect This

by Vernon Scannell
 They did not expect this. Being neither wise nor brave 
And wearing only the beauty of youth's season 
They took the first turning quite unquestioningly 
And walked quickly without looking back even once. 

It was of course the wrong turning. First they were nagged 
By a small wind that tugged at their clothing like a dog; 
Then the rain...Read more of this...

Deer Dancer

by Joy Harjo
 Nearly everyone had left that bar in the middle of winter except the
hardcore.It was the coldest night of the year, every place shut down, but
not us.Of course we noticed when she came in.We were Indian ruins.She
was the end of beauty.No one knew her, the stranger whose tribe we
recognized, her family related to deer, if that's who she was, a...Read more of this...

O friend! be in repose amidst human vicissitudes; disturb

by Omar Khayyam
O friend! be in repose amidst human vicissitudes; disturb
not thyself in vain because of the march of time.
When the envelope of thy being shall be torn in tatters,
what matters what thou hast done, what thou hast said,
or how defiled thou mayest be?
369...Read more of this...

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