Famous Ernest Poems by Famous Poets

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

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The Moon Maidens Song

by Ernest Dowson
 Sleep! Cast thy canopy 
 Over this sleeper's brain, 
Dim grow his memory, 
 When he wake again. 

Love stays a summer night, 
 Till lights of morning come; 
Then takes her winged flight 
 Back to her starry home. 

Sleep! Yet thy days are mine; 
 Love's seal is over thee: 
Far though my ways from thine, 
...Read more of this...

Double Ballade on the Nothingness of Things

by William Ernest Henley
 The big teetotum twirls,
And epochs wax and wane
As chance subsides or swirls;
But of the loss and gain
The sum is always plain.
Read on the mighty pall,
The weed of funeral
That covers praise and blame,
The -isms and the -anities,
Magnificence and shame:--
"O Vanity of Vanities!"

The Fates are subtle girls!
They give us chaff for grain.
And Time, the Thunderer, hurls,
Like bolted death, disdain
At all that...Read more of this...

London Voluntaries IV: Out of the Poisonous East

by William Ernest Henley
 Out of the poisonous East,
Over a continent of blight,
Like a maleficent Influence released
From the most squalid cellerage of hell,
The Wind-Fiend, the abominable--
The Hangman Wind that tortures temper and light--
Comes slouching, sullen and obscene,
Hard on the skirts of the embittered night;
And in a cloud unclean
Of excremental humours, roused to strife
By the operation of some ruinous change,
Wherever his evil mandate run...Read more of this...

England My England

by William Ernest Henley
 WHAT have I done for you,
 England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
 England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
 As the Song on your bugles blown,
 England--
 Round the world on your bugles blown!

Where shall the watchful sun,
 England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
 England, my...Read more of this...

The Rain and the Wind

by William Ernest Henley
 The rain and the wind, the wind and the rain --
They are with us like a disease:
They worry the heart, they work the brain,
As they shoulder and clutch at the shrieking pane,
And savage the helpless trees.

What does it profit a man to know
These tattered and tumbling skies
A million stately stars will show,
And the ruining grace of the after-glow
And the...Read more of this...

Ernest Hyde

by Edgar Lee Masters
 My mind was a mirror: 
It saw what it saw, it knew what it knew. 
In youth my mind was just a mirror 
In a rapidly flying car, 
Which catches and loses bits of the landscape. 
Then in time 
Great scratches were made on the mirror, 
Letting the outside world come in, 
And letting my inner self look out....Read more of this...

To One In Bedlam

by Ernest Dowson
 With delicate, mad hands, behind his sordid bars,
Surely he hath his posies, which they tear and twine;
Those scentless wisps of straw, that miserably line
His strait, caged universe, whereat the dull world stares,

Pedant and pitiful. O, how his rapt gaze wars
With their stupidity! Know they what dreams divine
Lift his long, laughing reveries like enchanted wine,
And make his melancholy germane to...Read more of this...

O Gather Me the Rose

by William Ernest Henley
 O gather me the rose, the rose,
While yet in flower we find it,
For summer smiles, but summer goes,
And winter waits behind it.

For with the dream foregone, foregone,
The deed foreborn forever,
The worm Regret will canker on,
And time will turn him never.

So were it well to love, my love,
And cheat of any laughter
The fate beneath us, and above,
The dark before and...Read more of this...

Casey At The Bat

by Ernest Lawrence Thayer
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day, 
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play. 

And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same, 
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game. 

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. 
The rest clung to that...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...

Margaritae Sorori

by William Ernest Henley
 A LATE lark twitters from the quiet skies:
And from the west,
Where the sun, his day's work ended,
Lingers as in content,
There falls on the old, gray city
An influence luminous and serene,
A shining peace.

The smoke ascends
In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires
Shine and are changed. In the valley
Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun,
Closing his benediction,
Sinks, and the darkening air
Thrills with...Read more of this...

Growth

by Ernest Dowson
 I watched the glory of her childhood change,
Half-sorrowful to find the child I knew,
 (Loved long ago in lily-time),
Become a maid, mysterious and strange,
With fair, pure eyes - dear eyes, but not the eyes I knew
 Of old, in the olden time!

Till on my doubting soul the ancient good
Of her dear childhood in the new disguise
 Dawned, and I...Read more of this...

Amor Profanus

by Ernest Dowson
 Beyond the pale of memory,
In some mysterious dusky grove;
A place of shadows utterly,
Where never coos the turtle-dove,
A world forgotten of the sun:
I dreamed we met when day was done,
And marvelled at our ancient love.

Met there by chance, long kept apart,
We wandered through the darkling glades;
And that old language of the heart
We sought to speak: alas! poor shades!
Over our pallid...Read more of this...

Nuns Of The Perpetual Adoration

by Ernest Dowson
 Calm, sad, secure; behind high convent walls,
 These watch the sacred lamp, these watch and pray:
And it is one with them when evening falls,
 And one with them the cold return of day.

These heed not time; their nights and days they make
 Into a long returning rosary,
Whereon their lives are threaded for Christ's sake;
 Meekness and vigilance and chastity.

A...Read more of this...

I. M. R. T. Hamilton Bruce (1846-1899)

by William Ernest Henley
 Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the...Read more of this...

In A Breton Cemetery

by Ernest Dowson
 They sleep well here,
These fisher-folk who passed their anxious days
In fierce Atlantic ways;
And found not there,
Beneath the long curled wave,
So quiet a grave.

And they sleep well,
These peasant-folk, who told their lives away,
From day to market-day,
As one should tell,
With patient industry,
Some sad old rosary.

And now night falls,
Me, tempest-tost, and driven from pillar to post,
A poor worn ghost,
This quiet pasture calls;
And...Read more of this...

In Tempore Senectutis

by Ernest Dowson
 When I am old,
And sadly steal apart,
Into the dark and cold,
Friend of my heart!
Remember, if you can,
Not him who lingers, but that other man,
Who loved and sang, and had a beating heart, -- 
When I am old!

When I am old,
And all Love's ancient fire
Be tremulous and cold:
My soul's desire!
Remember, if you may,
Nothing of you and me but yesterday,
When heart...Read more of this...

What Is Love?

by Ernest Dowson
 What is Love? 
Is it a folly, 
Is it mirth, or melancholy? 
 Joys above, 
Are there many, or not any? 
 What is Love? 

 If you please, 
A most sweet folly! 
Full of mirth and melancholy: 
 Both of these! 
In its sadness worth all gladness, 
 If you please! 

 Prithee where, 
Goes Love a-hiding? 
Is...Read more of this...

Between the Dusk of a Summer Night

by William Ernest Henley
 Between the dusk of a summer night
And the dawn of a summer day,
We caught at a mood as it passed in flight,
And we bade it stoop and stay.
And what with the dawn of night began
With the dusk of day was done;
For that is the way of woman and man,
When a hazard has made them one.
Arc upon arc, from shade...Read more of this...

If I Were King

by William Ernest Henley
 If I were king, my pipe should be premier.
The skies of time and chance are seldom clear,
We would inform them all with bland blue weather.
Delight alone would need to shed a tear,
For dream and deed should war no more together.

Art should aspire, yet ugliness be dear;
Beauty, the shaft, should speed with wit for feather;
And love, sweet love, should never...Read more of this...

Exchanges

by Ernest Dowson
 All that I had I brought, 
 Little enough I know; 
A poor rhyme roughly wrought, 
 A rose to match thy snow: 
All that I had I brought. 

Little enough I sought: 
 But a word compassionate, 
A passing glance, or thought, 
 For me outside the gate: 
Little enough I sought. 

Little enough I found: 
 All...Read more of this...

Invictus

by William Ernest Henley
 Out of the night that covers me, 
 Black as the Pit from pole to pole, 
I thank whatever gods may be 
 For my unconquerable soul. 

In the fell clutch of circumstance 
 I have not winced nor cried aloud. 
Under the bludgeonings of chance 
 My head is bloody, but unbowed. 

Beyond this place of wrath and...Read more of this...

Villons Straight Tip to All Cross Coves

by William Ernest Henley
 "Tout aux tavernes et aux filles."
Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-jack?
Or fake the broads? or fig a nag?
Or thimble-rig? or knap a yack?
Or pitch a snide? or smash a rag?
Suppose you duff? or nose and lag?
Or get the straight, and land your pot?
How do you melt the multy swag?
Booze and the blowens cop the lot.
Fiddle, or fence, or mace,...Read more of this...

Ballade of Dead Actors

by William Ernest Henley
 Where are the passions they essayed,
And where the tears they made to flow?
Where the wild humours they portrayed
For laughing worlds to see and know?
Othello's wrath and Juliet's woe?
Sir Peter's whims and Timon's gall?
And Millamant and Romeo?
Into the night go one and all.
Where are the braveries, fresh or frayed?
The plumes, the armours -- friend and foe?
The cloth of gold, the...Read more of this...

Vitae Summa Brevis Spem Nos Vetat Incohare Longam

by Ernest Dowson
 They are not long, the weeping and the laughter, 
 Love and desire and hate: 
I think they have no portion in us after 
 We pass the gate. 

They are not long, the days of wine and roses: 
 Out of a misty dream 
Our path emerges for a while, then closes 
 Within a dream. 


[The title...Read more of this...

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