Famous Erst Poems by Famous Poets

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

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The Retired Cat

by William Cowper
 A poet's cat, sedate and grave
As poet well could wish to have,
Was much addicted to inquire
For nooks to which she might retire,
And where, secure as mouse in chink,
She might repose, or sit and think.
I know not where she caught the trick--
Nature perhaps herself had cast her
In such a mould [lang f]philosophique[lang e],
Or else she learn'd it of her master.
Sometimes...Read more of this...

This Life Which Seems So Fair

by William Drummond
 This Life, which seems so fair,
Is like a bubble blown up in the air
By sporting children's breath,
Who chase it everywhere
And strive who can most motion it bequeath.
And though it sometimes seem of its own might
Like to an eye of gold to be fixed there,
And firm to hover in that empty height,
That only is because it is so light.
But in...Read more of this...

Sonnet XXXVII

by Francesco Petrarch
SONNET XXXVII. Il mio avversario, in cui veder solete. LAURA AT HER LOOKING-GLASS.  My foe, in whom you see your own bright eyes,Adored by Love and Heaven with honour due,With beauties not its own enamours you,Sweeter and happier than in mortal guise.Me, by its counsel, lady, from your breast,My chosen...Read more of this...

Sonnet CLIV

by Francesco Petrarch
SONNET CLIV. Giunto Alessandro alla famosa tomba. HE FEARS THAT HE IS INCAPABLE OF WORTHILY CELEBRATING HER.  The son of Philip, when he saw the tombOf fierce Achilles, with a sigh, thus said:"O happy, whose achievements erst found roomFrom that illustrious trumpet to be spreadO'er earth for ever!"—But, beyond the gloomRead more of this...

My Goddess

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 SAY, which Immortal
Merits the highest reward?
With none contend I,
But I will give it
To the aye-changing,
Ever-moving
Wondrous daughter of Jove.
His best-beloved offspring.
Sweet Phantasy.

For unto her
Hath he granted
All the fancies which erst
To none allow'd he
Saving himself;
Now he takes his pleasure
In the mad one.

She may, crowned with roses,
With staff twined round with lilies,
Roam thro' flow'ry valleys,
Rule the butterfly-people,
And soft-nourishing dew
With bee-like lips
Drink from...Read more of this...

He, who the world's foundations erst did lay,

by Omar Khayyam
He, who the world's foundations erst did lay,
Doth bruise full many a bosom day by day,
And many a ruby lip and musky tress
Doth coffin in the earth, and shroud with clay....Read more of this...

Sonnet II

by Francesco Petrarch
SONNET II. Per far una leggiadra sua vendetta. HOW HE BECAME THE VICTIM OF LOVE.  For many a crime at once to make me smart,And a delicious vengeance to obtain,Love secretly took up his bow again,As one who acts the cunning coward's part;My courage had retired within my heart,There to...Read more of this...

Sonnet to the Memory of Miss Maria Linley

by Mary Darby Robinson
 So bends beneath the storm yon balmy flow'r,
Whose spicy blossoms once perfum'd the gale;
So press'd with tears reclines yon lily pale,
Obedient to the rude and beating show'r. 

Still is the LARK, that hov'ring o'er yon spray,
With jocund carol usher'd in the morn;
And mute the NIGHTINGALE, whose tender lay
Melted the feeling mind with sounds forlorn: 

More sweet, MARIA, was thy...Read more of this...

The Shepheardes Calender: October

by Edmund Spenser
 OCTOBER: Ægloga DecimaPIERCE & CUDDIE
Cuddie, for shame hold up thy heavye head,
And let us cast with what delight to chace,
And weary thys long lingring Phoebus race.
Whilome thou wont the shepheards laddes to leade,
In rymes, in ridles, and in bydding base:
Now they in thee, and thou in sleepe art dead.

CUDDY
Piers, I have pyped erst so long with payne,
That all mine...Read more of this...

Beloved Name

by Victor Hugo
 ("Le parfum d'un lis.") 
 
 {Bk. V. xiii.} 


 The lily's perfume pure, fame's crown of light, 
 The latest murmur of departing day, 
 Fond friendship's plaint, that melts at piteous sight, 
 The mystic farewell of each hour at flight, 
 The kiss which beauty grants with coy delay,— 
 
 The sevenfold scarf that parting...Read more of this...

Pilates Wifes Dream

by Charlotte Bronte
 I've quenched my lamp, I struck it in that start
Which every limb convulsed, I heard it fall­
The crash blent with my sleep, I saw depart
Its light, even as I woke, on yonder wall;
Over against my bed, there shone a gleam
Strange, faint, and mingling also with my dream. 

It sunk, and I am wrapt in utter gloom; 
How far is...Read more of this...

Sonnet 19 - The souls Rialto hath its merchandise

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
 XIX

The soul's Rialto hath its merchandise;
I barter curl for curl upon that mart,
And from my poet's forehead to my heart
Receive this lock which outweighs argosies,—
As purply black, as erst to Pindar's eyes
The dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwart
The nine white Muse-brows. For this counterpart, . . .
The bay-crown's shade, Beloved, I surmise,
Still lingers on thy curl, it is so black!
Thus,...Read more of this...

Blue

by D. H. Lawrence
 The earth again like a ship steams out of the dark sea over
The edge of the blue, and the sun stands up to see us glide
Slowly into another day; slowly the rover 
Vessel of darkness takes the rising tide. 

I, on the deck, am startled by this dawn confronting
Me who am issued amazed from the darkness, stripped
And quailing here...Read more of this...

Threnody

by Ralph Waldo Emerson
 The south-wind brings
Life, sunshine, and desire,
And on every mount and meadow
Breathes aromatic fire,
But over the dead he has no power,
The lost, the lost he cannot restore,
And, looking over the hills, I mourn
The darling who shall not return.

I see my empty house,
I see my trees repair their boughs,
And he, —the wondrous child,
Whose silver warble wild
Outvalued every pulsing sound
Within the air's...Read more of this...

Modern Love: XXVI

by George Meredith
 Love ere he bleeds, an eagle in high skies,
Has earth beneath his wings: from reddened eve
He views the rosy dawn. In vain they weave
The fatal web below while far he flies.
But when the arrow strikes him, there's a change.
He moves but in the track of his spent pain,
Whose red drops are the links of a harsh chain,
Binding him to...Read more of this...

Ode to Despair

by Mary Darby Robinson
 TERRIFIC FIEND! thou Monster fell, 
Condemn'd in haunts profane to dwell, 
Why quit thy solitary Home, 
O'er wide Creation's paths to roam? 
Pale Tyrant of the timid Heart, 
Whose visionary spells can bind 
The strongest passions of the mind, 
Freezing Life's current with thy baneful Art. 

Nature recoils when thou art near, 
For round thy form all plagues are...Read more of this...

466. Ode for General Washington's Birthday

by Robert Burns
 NO Spartan tube, no Attic shell,
 No lyre Æolian I awake;
’Tis liberty’s bold note I swell,
 Thy harp, Columbia, let me take!
See gathering thousands, while I sing,
A broken chain exulting bring,
 And dash it in a tyrant’s face,
And dare him to his very beard,
And tell him he no more is feared—
 No more the despot of Columbia’s race!
A tyrant’s...Read more of this...

Modern Love XXVI: Love Ere He Bleeds

by George Meredith
 Love ere he bleeds, an eagle in high skies,
Has earth beneath his wings: from reddened eve
He views the rosy dawn. In vain they weave
The fatal web below while far he flies.
But when the arrow strikes him, there's a change.
He moves but in the track of his spent pain,
Whose red drops are the links of a harsh chain,
Binding him to...Read more of this...

Sonnet CLXI

by Francesco Petrarch
SONNET CLXI. L' aura gentil che rasserena i poggi. JOURNEYING TO VISIT LAURA, HE FEELS RENEWED ARDOUR AS HE APPROACHES.  The gale, that o'er yon hills flings softer blue,And wakes to life each bud that gems the glade,[Pg 176]I know; its breathings such impression made,Wafting me fame, but wafting...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...

Memorial Verses

by Matthew Arnold
 Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece,
Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease.
But one such death remain'd to come;
The last poetic voice is dumb--
We stand to-day by Wordsworth's tomb.

When Byron's eyes were shut in death,
We bow'd our head and held our breath.
He taught us little; but our soul
Had felt him like the thunder's roll.
With shivering heart the strife we saw 
Of...Read more of this...

To Mary Wollstonecraft

by Robert Southey
 The lilly cheek, the "purple light of love,"
The liquid lustre of the melting eye,--
Mary! of these the Poet sung, for these
Did Woman triumph! with no angry frown
View this degrading conquest. At that age
No MAID OF ARC had snatch'd from coward man
The heaven-blest sword of Liberty; thy sex
Could boast no female ROLAND'S martyrdom;
No CORDE'S angel and avenging arm
Had sanctified again...Read more of this...

Arise, O cup-bearer

by Hafez
Arise, O cup-bearer, & bring
Fresh wine for our enrapturing!
O minstrel, of our sorrow sing—
‘O joy of whose delight we dreamed,
O love that erst so easy seemed,
What toil is in thy travelling!’

How in the lov’d one’s tent can I
Have any rest or gaiety?
Ever anon the horsemen cry,
‘O lingering lover, fare thee well!’
Ever I hear the jingling bell
Of waiting steed & harnessry.

O...Read more of this...

Trilogy of Passion: II. ELEGY

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 When man had ceased to utter his lament,

 A god then let me tell my tale of sorrow.

WHAT hope of once more meeting is there now
In the still-closed blossoms of this day?
Both heaven and hell thrown open seest thou;
What wav'ring thoughts within the bosom play
No longer doubt! Descending from the sky,
She lifts thee in her arms to realms on...Read more of this...

Sonnet 12: When I do count the clock that tells the time

by William Shakespeare
 When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silvered o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly...Read more of this...

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