Famous Estate Poems by Famous Poets
These are examples of famous Estate poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous estate poems. These examples illustrate what a famous estate poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).
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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...
by
Emily Dickinson
That it will never come again
Is what makes life so sweet.
Believing what we don't believe
Does not exhilarate.
That if it be, it be at best
An ablative estate --
This instigates an appetite
Precisely opposite....Read more of this...
by
Paul Laurence Dunbar
Dear critic, who my lightness so deplores,
Would I might study to be prince of bores,
Right wisely would I rule that dull estate—
But, sir, I may not, till you abdicate.
...Read more of this...
by
Rudyard Kipling
(EDWARD VII.)
1910
Who in the Realm to-day lays down dear life for the sake of a land more dear?
And, unconcerned for his own estate, toils till the last grudged sands have run?
Let him approach. It is proven here
Our King asks nothing of any man more than Our King himself, has done.
For to him above all was Life good, above all...Read more of this...
by
Edgar Lee Masters
I never saw any difference
Between playing cards for money
And selling real estate,
Practicing law, banking, or anything else.
For everything is chance.
Nevertheless
Seest thou a man diligent in business?
He shall stand before Kings!...Read more of this...
by
Edwin Arlington Robinson
War shook the land where Levi dwelt,
And fired the dismal wrath he felt,
That such a doom was ever wrought
As his, to toil while others fought;
To toil, to dream -- and still to dream,
With one day barren as another;
To consummate, as it would seem
The dry despair of his old mother.
Far off one...Read more of this...
by
John Wilmot
Much wine had passed, with grave discourse
Of who fucks who, and who does worse
(Such as you usually do hear
From those that diet at the Bear),
When I, who still take care to see
Drunkenness relieved by lechery,
Went out into St. James's Park
To cool my head and fire my heart.
But though St. James has th' honor on 't,
'Tis consecrate to prick and...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
I met a King this afternoon!
He had not on a Crown indeed,
A little Palmleaf Hat was all,
And he was barefoot, I'm afraid!
But sure I am he Ermine wore
Beneath his faded Jacket's blue --
And sure I am, the crest he bore
Within that Jacket's pocket too!
For 'twas too stately for an Earl --
A Marquis would not go so grand!
'Twas possibly a...Read more of this...
by
John Berryman
A shallow lake, with many waterbirds,
especially egrets: I was showing Mother around,
An extraordinary vivid dream
of Betty & Douglass, and Don-”his mother's estate
was on the grounds of a lunatic asylum.
He showed me around.
A policeman trundled a siren up the walk.
It was 6:05 p.m., Don was late home.
I askt if he ever saw
the inmates-”'No, they never leave their cells.'
Betty was downstairs,...Read more of this...
by
George Herbert
I cannot ope mine eyes,
But thou art ready there to catch
My morning-soul and sacrifice:
Then we must needs for that day make a match.
My God, what is a heart?
Silver, or gold, or precious stone,
Or star, or rainbow, or a part
Of all these things or all of them in one?
My God, what is a heart?
That...Read more of this...
by
Robert Louis Stevenson
When I am grown to man's estate
I shall be very proud and great,
And tell the other girls and boys
Not to meddle with my toys....Read more of this...
by
T Wignesan
for Léon Vanier*
(The texts I use for my translations are from: Yves-Alain Favre, Ed. Paul Verlaine: Œuvres Poétiques Complètes. Paris: Robert Laffont,1992, XCIX-939p.)
Some few in all this Paris:
We live off pride, yet flat broke we’re
Even if with the bottle a bit too free
We drink above all fresh water
Being very sparing when taken with hunger.
With other fine fare and wines of...Read more of this...
by
Philip Levine
Shake out my pockets! Harken to the call
Of that calm voice that makes no sound at all!
Take of me all you can; my average weight
May make amends for this, my low estate.
But do not shake, Green Thumb, as once you did
My heart and liver, or my prostate bid
Good Morning to -- leave it,...Read more of this...
by
Carl Sandburg
ARMOUR AVENUE was the name of this street and door signs on empty houses read “The Silver Dollar,” “Swede Annie” and the Christian names of madams such as “Myrtle” and “Jenny.”
Scrap iron, rags and bottles fill the front rooms hither and yon and signs in Yiddish say Abe Kaplan & Co. are running junk shops in whore houses of...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
Partake as doth the Bee,
Abstemiously.
The Rose is an Estate --
In Sicily....Read more of this...
by
Edwin Arlington Robinson
We go no more to Calverly's,
For there the lights are few and low;
And who are there to see by them,
Or what they see, we do not know.
Poor strangers of another tongue
May now creep in from anywhere,
And we, forgotten, be no more
Than twilight on a ruin there.
We two, the remnant. All the rest
Are cold and quiet. You nor I,
Nor fiddle...Read more of this...
by
Anne Killigrew
A SONG.
I.
TH'ambitious Eye that seeks alone,
Where Beauties Wonders most are shown;
Of all that bounteous Heaven displays,
Let him on bright Alinda gaze;
And in her high Example see,
All can admir'd, or wisht-for, be !
II.
An unmatch't Form, Mind like endow'd,
Estate, and Title great and proud;
A Charge Heaven dares to few commit,
So...Read more of this...
by
Sir Thomas Wyatt
My mother's maids, when they did sew and spin,
They sang sometime a song of the field mouse,
That, for because her livelood was but thin,
Would needs go seek her townish sister's house.
She thought herself endurèd too much pain;
The stormy blasts her cave so sore did souse
That when the furrows swimmèd with the rain,
She must lie cold and wet in sorry...Read more of this...
by
Andrew Barton Paterson
Oh, Mr Gilhooley he turned up his toes,
As most of you know, soon or late;
And Jones was a lawyer, as everyone knows,
So they took him to Gilhooley's Estate.
Gilhooley in life had been living so free
'Twas thought his possessions were great,
So Jones, with a smile, says, "There's many a fee
For me in Gilhooley's...Read more of this...
by
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Higher far,
Upward, into the pure realm,
Over sun or star,
Over the flickering Dæmon film,
Thou must mount for love,—
Into vision which all form
In one only form dissolves;
In a region where the wheel,
On which all beings ride,
Visibly revolves;
Where the starred eternal worm
Girds the world with bound and term;
Where unlike things are like,
When good and ill,
And joy and moan,
Melt into one.
There Past, Present,...Read more of this...
by
Nazim Hikmet
I have no silver-saddled horse to ride,
no inheritance to live on,
neither riches no real-estate --
a pot of honey is all I own.
A pot of honey
red as fire!
My honey is my everything.
I guard
my riches and my real-estate
-- my honey pot, I mean --
from pests of every species,
Brother, just wait...
As long as I've got
honey in my pot,
bees will come to...Read more of this...
by
Isaac Watts
The Virgin Mary's song.
Luke 1:46ff.
Our souls shall magnify the Lord,
In God the Savior we rejoice:
While we repeat the Virgin's song,
May the same Spirit tune our voice!
[The Highest saw her low estate,
And mighty things his hand hath done:
His overshadowing power and grace
Makes her the mother of his Son.
Let ev'ry nation call her blest,
And endless years prolong her fame;
But God...Read more of this...
by
Rupert Brooke
Young Mary, loitering once her garden way,
Felt a warm splendour grow in the April day,
As wine that blushes water through. And soon,
Out of the gold air of the afternoon,
One knelt before her: hair he had, or fire,
Bound back above his ears with golden wire,
Baring the eager marble of his face.
Not man's nor woman's was the immortal grace
Rounding the limbs...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
To own the Art within the Soul
The Soul to entertain
With Silence as a Company
And Festival maintain
Is an unfurnished Circumstance
Possession is to One
As an Estate perpetual
Or a reduceless Mine....Read more of this...
by
William Stafford
Paw marks near one burrow show Graydigger
at home, I bend low, from down there swivel
my head, grasstop level--the world
goes on forever, the mountains a bigger
burrow, their snow like last winter. From a room
inside the world even the strongest wind
has a soft sound: a new house will hide
in the grass; footsteps are only the summer people.
The real estate agent is...Read more of this...
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