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Famous February Poems by Famous Poets

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

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by Carroll, Lewis
...ill even the poet is aghast,
A touching Valentine at last
The post shall carry,
When thirteen days are gone and past
Of February.

Farewell, dear friend, and when we meet,
In desert waste or crowded street,
Perhaps before this week shall fleet,
Perhaps to-morrow.
I trust to find YOUR heart the seat
Of wasting sorrow....Read More

by Swinburne, Algernon Charles
...eyes are stars that match the morn.
Thy forehead braves the storm's bent bow,
Thy feet enkindle stars of snow.

Wan February with weeping cheer,
Whose cold hand guides the youngling year
Down misty roads of mire and rime,
Before thy pale and fitful face
The shrill wind shifts the clouds apace
Through skies the morning scarce may climb.
Thine eyes are thick with heavy tears,
But lit with hopes that light the year's.

Hail, happy March, whose foot...Read More

by Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth
...The day is ending,
The night is descending;
The marsh is frozen,
The river dead.

Through clouds like ashes
The red sun flashes
On village windows
That glimmer red.

The snow recommences;
The buried fences
Mark no longer
The road o'er the plain;

While through the meadows,
Like fearful shadows,
Slowly passes
A funeral train.

The bell is pealin...Read More

by Tebb, Barry
...s are in flames

Of ice and snow on Magdalen

Bridge with two figures in the

Deer Park wandering in white

Flurries of February dusk.


James Fenton you are King

Of Oxford Poetry and Seamus

Heaney holds the Laureate’s Crown

With sceptre and with gown,

The carved heads have grown

On grey Sheldonian stone.

The railings on the ramparts

On York Wall held my breath

As I walked my ten year old

Spirit in rain and sun, wind

Willing me on while no one knew
...Read More

by Ginsberg, Allen
...knew they were part of 'History" except the deceased
who never knew exactly what was happening even when I was alive

 February 22, 1997...Read More

by Hugo, Victor
 ("Ceux-ci partent.") 
 {Bk. III. v., February, 1843.} 

 We pass—these sleep 
 Beneath the shade where deep-leaved boughs 
 Bend o'er the furrows the Great Reaper ploughs, 
 And gentle summer winds in many sweep 
 Whirl in eddying waves 
 The dead leaves o'er the graves. 
 And the living sigh: 
 Forgotten ones, so soon your memories die. 
 Ye never more may list the wild bird's s...Read More

by Chatterton, Thomas
...r's quiet preys 
And like a mouse in Cheshire cheese supreme, 
Devours the substance of the less'ning bays. 

Come, February, lend thy darkest sky. 
There teach the winter'd muse with clouds to soar; 
Come, February, lift the number high; 
Let the sharp strain like wind thro' alleys roar. 

Ye channels, wand'ring thro' the spacious street, 
In hollow murmurs roll the dirt along, 
With inundations wet the sabled feet, 
Whilst gouts responsive, join th'elegiac song....Read More

by Kenyon, Jane
...Now wind torments the field,
turning the white surface back
on itself, back and back on itself,
like an animal licking a wound.

Nothing but white--the air, the light;
only one brown milkweed pod
bobbing in the gully, smallest
brown boat on the immense tide.

A single green sprouting thing
would restore me. . . .

Then think of the ...Read More

by Sexton, Anne
She has always been there, my darling. 
She is, in fact, exquisite. 
Fireworks in the dull middle of February 
and as real as a cast-iron pot. 
Let's face it, I have been momentary. 
vA luxury. A bright red sloop in the harbor. 
My hair rising like smoke from the car window. 
Littleneck clams out of season. 
She is more than that. She is your have to have, 
has grown you your practical your tropical growth. 
This is not an ex...Read More

by Walcott, Derek
...of emigrants whom exile
has made as classless as the common cold,
citizens of a language that is now yours,

and every February, every "last autumn",
you write far from the threshing harvesters
folding wheat like a girl plaiting her hair,
far from Russia's canals quivering with sunstroke,
a man living with English in one room.

The tourist archipelagoes of my South
are prisons too, corruptible, and though
there is no harder prison than writing verse,
what's poetry, if it...Read More

by Bronte, Anne
...Blessed be Thou for all the joy
My soul has felt today!
O let its memory stay with me
And never pass away! 
I was alone, for those I loved
Were far away from me,
The sun shone on the withered grass,
The wind blew fresh and free. 

Was it the smile of early spring
That made my bosom glow?
'Twas sweet, but neither sun nor wind
Could raise my spirit so.Read More

by Bishop, Elizabeth
...t all
I was my foolish aunt,
I--we--were falling, falling,
our eyes glued to the cover
of the National Geographic,
February, 1918.

I said to myself: three days
and you'll be seven years old.
I was saying it to stop
the sensation of falling off
the round, turning world.
into cold, blue-black space.
But I felt: you are an I,
you are an Elizabeth,
you are one of them.
Why should you be one, too?
I scarcely dared to look
to see what it was I...Read More

by Doty, Mark glass. Then
 daylight's soft charcoal
 lusters stone walls

and we ascend to what
 passes for brightness,
 this February,

scumbled sky
 above graduated zones
 of decline:

dead rowhouses,
 charred windows'
 wet frames

around empty space,
 a few chipboard polemics
 nailed over the gaps,

speeches too long
 and obsessive for anyone
 on this train to read,

sealing the hollowed interiors
 --some of them grand once,
 you can tell by

the fillips of decoration,
 stone le...Read More

by Dickinson, Emily
...hout the Year
So civic as the Jay --
A Neighbor and a Warrior too
With shrill felicity
Pursuing Winds that censure us
A February Day,
The Brother of the Universe
Was never blown away --
The Snow and he are intimate --
I've often seem them play
When Heaven looked upon us all
With such severity
I felt apology were due
To an insulted sky
Whose pompous frown was Nutriment
To their Temerity --
The Pillow of this daring Head
Is pungent Evergreens --
His Larder -- terse and Militant...Read More

by Hugo, Victor
 ("O vous que votre âge défende") 
 {IX., February, 1840.} 

 In youthful spirits wild, 
 Smile, for all beams on thee; 
 Sport, sing, be still the child, 
 The flower, the honey-bee. 
 Bring not the future near, 
 For Joy too soon declines— 
 What is man's mission here? 
 Toil, where no sunlight shines! 
 Our lot is hard, we know; 
 From eyes so gayly beaming, 
 Whence rays of b...Read More

by Schwartz, Delmore
...ding, unbroken ball,

The shattering sun fell down
Like swords upon their play,

Moving eastward among the stars
Toward February and October.

But the Maywind brushed their cheeks
Like a mother watching sleep,

And if for a moment they fight
Over the bouncing ball

And sister pinches brother
And brother kicks her shins,

Well! The heart of man in known:
It is a cactus bloom.


The ground on which the ball bounces
Is another bouncing ball.

The wheeling, whirlin...Read More

by Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth the frozen fen; 
My frosts congeal the rivers in their flow, 
My fires light up the hearths and hearts of men. 


I am lustration, and the sea is mine! 
I wash the sands and headlands with my tide; 
My brow is crowned with branches of the pine; 
Before my chariot-wheels the fishes glide. 
By me all things unclean are purified, 
By me the souls of men washed white again; 
E'en the unlovely tombs of those who died 
Without a dirge, I cleanse from every stain...Read More

by Goose, Mother
...Thirty days hath September,April, June, and November;February has twenty-eight alone,All the rest have thirty-one,Excepting leap-year, that's the timeWhen February's days are twenty-nine....Read More

by Brautigan, Richard
...branches. The statue stands in front

of the middle tree. All around the grass is wet from the

 rains of early February.

 In the background is a tall cypress tree, almost dark like

a room. Adlai Stevenson spoke under the tree in 1956, before

 a crowd of 40, 000 people.

 There is a tall church across the street from the statue

with crosses, steeples, bells and a vast door that looks like

 a huge mousehole, perhaps from a Tom and Jerry cartoon,

 ...Read More

by Wylie, Elinor
...igs can live in clover; 
A barrel of salted herrings lasts a year; 
The spring begins before the winter's over. 
By February you may find the skins 
Of garter snakes and water moccasins 
Dwindled and harsh, dead-white and cloudy-clear.


When April pours the colours of a shell 
Upon the hills, when every little creek 
Is shot with silver from the Chesapeake 
In shoals new-minted by the ocean swell, 
When strawberries go begging, and the sleek 
Blue plums lie open to...Read More

Dont forget to view our wonderful member February poems.