Famous File Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Pass joyously thy life, for many other travelers will file

by Omar Khayyam
Pass joyously thy life, for many other travelers will file
through this world; the soul will cry after the body from
which it will be separated, and the head, the seat of
the passions, will be trampled under the potter's feet....Read more of this...

Zara, The Bather

by Victor Hugo
 ("Sara, belle d'indolence.") 
 
 {XIX., August, 1828.} 


 In a swinging hammock lying, 
 Lightly flying, 
 Zara, lovely indolent, 
 O'er a fountain's crystal wave 
 There to lave 
 Her young beauty—see her bent. 
 
 As she leans, so sweet and soft, 
 Flitting oft, 
 O'er the mirror to and fro, 
 Seems that...Read more of this...

City Gent

by Craig Raine
 On my desk, a set of labels
or a synopsis of leeks,
blanched by the sun
and trailing their roots

like a watering can.
Beyond and below,
diminished by distance,
a taxi shivers at the lights:

a shining moorhen
with an orange nodule
set over the beak,
taking a passenger

under its wing.
I turn away, confront
the cuckold hatstand
at bay in the corner,

and eavesdrop (bless you!)
on a hay-fever of brakes.
My Caran d'Ache...Read more of this...

A Life

by Sylvia Plath
 Touch it: it won't shrink like an eyeball,
This egg-shaped bailiwick, clear as a tear.
Here's yesterday, last year ---
Palm-spear and lily distinct as flora in the vast
Windless threadwork of a tapestry.

Flick the glass with your fingernail:
It will ping like a Chinese chime in the slightest air stir
Though nobody in there looks up or bothers to answer.
The inhabitants are light as...Read more of this...

When I Watch the Living Meet

by A E Housman
 When I watch the living meet 
And the moving pageant file
Warm and breathing through the street 
Where I lodge a little while,

If the heats of hate and lust 
In the house of flesh are strong,
Let me mind the house of dust 
Where my sojourn shall be long.

In the nation that is not 
Nothing stands that stood before;
There revenges are...Read more of this...

Faces In A Crowd

by Barry Tebb
 The women are all wearing imitation silk scarves,

Blackpool or Biarritz, sipping Woman, masticating

The morning’s post, new babies and bathrooms, going

To file, snip, fiddle and smile through fish-eyes,

Crinkly green gloss, store it in stocking-tops

For next year abroad, that Pill, so perfect!



Flashing smiles from shiny domes and polished eye-lenses,

The men are glossy all over, snapping mortgages and scores

They slap fellow-souls at...Read more of this...

Sonnet 11

by John Milton
 XI

A Book was writ of late call'd Tetrachordon;
And wov'n close, both matter, form and stile;
The Subject new: it walk'd the Town a while,
Numbring good intellects; now seldom por'd on.
Cries the stall-reader, bless us! what a word on
A title page is this! and some in file
Stand spelling fals, while one might walk to Mile-
End Green. Why is it harder Sirs...Read more of this...

Whistling Sam

by Paul Laurence Dunbar
I has hyeahd o' people dancin' an' I 's hyeahd o' people singin'.
An' I 's been 'roun' lots of othahs dat could keep de banjo ringin';
But of all de whistlin' da'kies dat have lived an' died since Ham,
De whistlin'est I evah seed was ol' Ike Bates's Sam.
In de kitchen er de stable, in de fiel' er mowin' hay,
You could hyeah...Read more of this...

56. Epistle to Davie A Brother Poet

by Robert Burns
 WHILE winds frae aff Ben-Lomond blaw,
An’ bar the doors wi’ driving snaw,
 An’ hing us owre the ingle,
I set me down to pass the time,
An’ spin a verse or twa o’ rhyme,
 In hamely, westlin jingle.
While frosty winds blaw in the drift,
 Ben to the chimla lug,
I grudge a wee the great-folk’s gift,
 That live sae bien an’ snug:
...Read more of this...

Roast Leviathan

by Louis Untermeyer
"Old Jews!" Well, David, aren't we?
What news is that to make you see so red,
To swear and almost tear your beard in half?
Jeered at? Well, let them laugh.
You can laugh longer when you're dead.
What? Are you still too blind to see?
Have you forgot your Midrash!... They were right,
The little goyim, with their angry stones.
You should be buried in the desert...Read more of this...

The Last of the Light Brigade

by Rudyard Kipling
 1891

There were thirty million English who talked of England's might,
There were twenty broken troopers who lacked a bed for the night.
They had neither food nor money, they had neither service nor trade;
They were only shiftless soldiers, the last of the Light Brigade.

They felt that life was fleeting; they kuew not that art was long,
That though they were dying of...Read more of this...

The Quaker Graveyard in Nantucket

by Robert Lowell
 (For Warren Winslow, Dead At Sea)
 Let man have dominion over the fishes of the sea and
 the fowls of the air and the beasts and the whole earth,
 and every creeping creature that moveth upon the earth.

 I
A brackish reach of shoal off Madaket--
The sea was still breaking violently and night
Had steamed into our North Atlantic Fleet,
When the...Read more of this...

Curriculum Vitae

by Anthony Hecht
 As though it were reluctant to be day,
.......Morning deploys a scale
.......Of rarities in gray,
And winter settles down in its chain-mail,

Victorious over legions of gold and red.
......The smokey souls of stones,
......Blunt pencillings of lead,
Pare down the world to glintless monotones

Of graveyard weather, vapors of a fen
.......We reckon through our pores.
.......Save for the garbage men,
Our children are the first ones out...Read more of this...

John Brown

by Edwin Arlington Robinson
 Though for your sake I would not have you now 
So near to me tonight as now you are, 
God knows how much a stranger to my heart 
Was any cold word that I may have written; 
And you, poor woman that I made my wife,
You have had more of loneliness, I fear, 
Than I—though I have been the...Read more of this...

The Grave of the Hundered Head

by Rudyard Kipling
 There's a widow in sleepy Chester
 Who weeps for her only son;
There's a grave on the Pabeng River,
 A grave that the Burmans shun,
And there's Subadar Prag Tewarri
 Who tells how the work was done.

A Snider squibbed in the jungle,
 Somebody laughed and fled,
And the men of the First Shikaris
 Picked up their Subaltern dead,
With a big blue mark...Read more of this...

The Faerie Queene: Book I Canto I

by Edmund Spenser
Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske,
As time her taught in lowly Shepheards weeds,
Am now enforst a far unfitter taske,
For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds,
And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds;
Whose prayses having slept in silence long,
Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds
To blazon broad emongst her learned throng:
Fierce warres and faithful loves shall...Read more of this...

The Widow at Windsor

by Rudyard Kipling
 'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor
 With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead?
She 'as ships on the foam -- she 'as millions at 'ome,
 An' she pays us poor beggars in red.
 (Ow, poor beggars in red!)
There's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses,
 There's 'er mark on the medical stores --
An' 'er troopers you'll find with...Read more of this...

Now let no charitable hope

by Elinor Wylie
 Now let no charitable hope 
Confuse my mind with images 
Of eagle and of antelope: 
I am by nature none of these. 

I was, being human, born alone; 
I am, being woman, hard beset; 
I live by squeezing from a stone 
What little nourishment I get. 

In masks outrageous and austere 
The years go by in single file; 
But...Read more of this...

Filthy Savior

by Laure-Anne Bosselaar
  Look at this storm, the idiot,
pouring its heart out here, of all places,
an industrial suburb on a Sunday, 
soaking nothing but cinder-block
and parking lots,

 wasting its breath on smokeless 
smoke-stacks, not even a trash can 
to send rumbling through the streets.
And that lightning bolt, forking itself 
to death, to hit 

 nothing — what a waste. 
What if...Read more of this...

Leipzig

by Thomas Hardy
 "OLD Norbert with the flat blue cap--
A German said to be--
Why let your pipe die on your lap,
Your eyes blink absently?"--

--"Ah!... Well, I had thought till my cheek was wet
Of my mother--her voice and mien
When she used to sing and pirouette,
And touse the tambourine

"To the march that yon street-fiddler plies;
She told me 'twas the same
She'd heard from the trumpets,...Read more of this...

Faith Healing

by Philip Larkin
 Slowly the women file to where he stands
Upright in rimless glasses, silver hair,
Dark suit, white collar. Stewards tirelessly
Persuade them onwards to his voice and hands,
Within whose warm spring rain of loving care
Each dwells some twenty seconds. Now, dear child,
What's wrong, the deep American voice demands,
And, scarcely pausing, goes into a prayer
Directing God about this eye, that knee.
Their heads are...Read more of this...

The Made to Order Smile

by Paul Laurence Dunbar
 When a woman looks up at you with a twist about her eyes, 
And her brows are half uplifted in a nicely feigned surprise 
As you breathe some pretty sentence, though she hates you all the while, 
She is very apt to stun you with a made to order smile. 

It's a sublte combination of a sneer and a...Read more of this...

What if I say I shall not wait!

by Emily Dickinson
 What if I say I shall not wait!
What if I burst the fleshly Gate --
And pass escaped -- to thee!

What if I file this Mortal -- off --
See where it hurt me -- That's enough --
And wade in Liberty!

They cannot take me -- any more!
Dungeons can call -- and Guns implore
Unmeaning -- now -- to me --

As laughter --...Read more of this...

Snail Poem

by Peter Orlovsky
 Make my grave shape of heart so like a flower be free aired
 & handsome felt,
Grave root pillow, tung up from grave & wigle at
 blown up clowd.
Ear turnes close to underlayer of green felt moss & sound
 of rain dribble thru this layer
 down to the roots that will tickle my ear.
Hay grave, my toes need cutting so...Read more of this...

Melancholy

by Paul Verlaine
I am the Empire in the last of its decline, 
That sees the tall, fair-haired Barbarians pass,--the while 
Composing indolent acrostics, in a style 
Of gold, with languid sunshine dancing in each line.

The solitary soul is heart-sick with a vile 
Ennui. Down yon, they say, War's torches bloody shine. 
Alas, to be so faint of will, one must resign 
The...Read more of this...

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