Famous Finch Poems by Famous Poets

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

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To Death

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 O King of Terrors, whose unbounded Sway 
All that have Life, must certainly Obey; 
The King, the Priest, the Prophet, all are Thine, 
Nor wou'd ev'n God (in Flesh) thy Stroke decline. 
My Name is on thy Roll, and sure I must 
Encrease thy gloomy Kingdom in the Dust. 
My soul at this no Apprehension feels, 
But trembles at...Read more of this...

Reformation

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 A Gentleman, most wretched in his Lot, 
A wrangling and reproving Wife had got, 
Who, tho' she curb'd his Pleasures, and his Food, 
Call'd him My Dear, and did it for his Good, 
Ills to prevent; She of all Ills the worst, 
So wisely Froward, and so kindly Curst. 
The Servants too experiment her Lungs, 
And find they've Breath...Read more of this...

Elegy For My Father

by Annie Finch
 HLF, August 8, 1918—August 22, 1997

“Bequeath us to no earthly shore until
Is answered in the vortex of our grave
The seal’s wide spindrift gaze towards paradise.”
—Hart Crane, “Voyages”

“If a lion could talk, we couldn’t understand it”
—Ludwig Wittgenstein

Under the ocean that stretches out wordlessly
past the long edge of the last human shore,
there are deep windows the waves haven't opened,
where night is...Read more of this...

The LORD and the BRAMBLE

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 To view his stately Walks and Groves, 
A Man of Pow'r and Place
Was hast'ning on; but as he roves,
His Foe the slighted Bramble proves, 
And stops his eager Pace. 
That Shrub was qualify'd to Bite;
And now there went a Tale, 
That this injurious partial Wight
Had bid his Gard'ner rid it quite, 
And throw it o'er the Pail. 

Often the...Read more of this...

La Passion Vaincue

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 On the Banks of the Severn a desperate Maid 
(Whom some Shepherd, neglecting his Vows, had betray'd,) 
Stood resolving to banish all Sense of the Pain, 
And pursue, thro' her Death, a Revenge on the Swain. 
Since the Gods, and my Passion, at once he defies; 
Since his Vanity lives, whilst my Character dies; 
No more (did she say)...Read more of this...

The Appology

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 'Tis true I write and tell me by what Rule
I am alone forbid to play the fool
To follow through the Groves a wand'ring Muse
And fain'd Idea's for my pleasures chuse
Why shou'd it in my Pen be held a fault 
Whilst Mira paints her face, to paint a thought
Whilst Lamia to the manly Bumper flys
And borrow'd Spiritts sparkle in her...Read more of this...

Lifes Progress

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 How gayly is at first begun 
Our Life's uncertain Race! 
Whilst yet that sprightly Morning Sun, 
With which we just set out to run 
Enlightens all the Place. 

How smiling the World's Prospect lies 
How tempting to go through ! 
Not Canaan to the Prophet's Eyes, 
From Pisgah with a sweet Surprize, 
Did more inviting shew. 

How promising's the...Read more of this...

Adam Posd

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 Cou'd our First Father, at his toilsome Plough,
Thorns in his Path, and Labour on his Brow,
Cloath'd only in a rude, unpolish'd Skin,
Cou'd he a vain Fantastick Nymph have seen,
In all her Airs, in all her antick Graces, 
Her various Fashions, and more various Faces;
How had it pos'd that Skill, which late assign'd
Just Appellations to Each several Kind!
A right Idea...Read more of this...

The Owl Describing her Young Ones

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 Why was that baleful Creature made, 
Which seeks our Quiet to invade, 
And screams ill Omens through the Shade? 

'Twas, sure, for every Mortals good, 
When, by wrong painting of her Brood, 
She doom'd them for the Eagle's Food: 

Who proffer'd Safety to her Tribe, 
Wou'd she but shew them or describe, 
And serving him, his Favour bribe. 

When...Read more of this...

An EPISTLE From A Gentleman To Madam Deshouliers

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 URANIA, whom the Town admires, 
Whose Wit and Beauty share our Praise; 
This fair URANIA who inspires 
A thousand Joys a thousand ways, 
She, who cou'd with a Glance convey 
Favours, that had my Hopes outdone, 
Has lent me Money on that Day, 
Which our Acquaintance first begun. 

Nor with the Happiness I taste, 
Let any jealous Doubts contend:...Read more of this...

In Praise Of Writing Letters

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 Blest be the Man! his Memory at least, 
Who found the Art, thus to unfold his Breast, 
And taught succeeding Times an easy way 
Their secret Thoughts by Letters to convey; 
To baffle Absence, and secure Delight, 
Which, till that Time, was limited to Sight. 

The parting Farewel spoke, the last Adieu, 
The less'ning Distance past, then loss of...Read more of this...

A Tale of the Miser and the Poet

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 A WIT, transported with Inditing, 
Unpay'd, unprais'd, yet ever Writing; 
Who, for all Fights and Fav'rite Friends, 
Had Poems at his Fingers Ends; 
For new Events was still providing; 
Yet now desirous to be riding, 
He pack'd-up ev'ry Ode and Ditty 
And in Vacation left the City; 
So rapt with Figures, and Allusions, 
With secret Passions, sweet Confusions; 
With...Read more of this...

An EPISTLE from Alexander to Hephaestion In His Sickness

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 WITH such a Pulse, with such disorder'd Veins, 
Such lab'ring Breath, as thy Disease constrains; 
With failing Eyes, that scarce the Light endure, 
(So long unclos'd, they've watch'd thy doubtful Cure) 
To his Hephaestion Alexander writes, 
To soothe thy Days, and wing thy sleepless Nights, 
I send thee Love: Oh! that I could impart, 
As well my vital Spirits...Read more of this...

Moral Song

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 Would we attain the happiest State, 
That is design'd us here; 
No Joy a Rapture must create, 
No Grief beget Despair. 
No Injury fierce Anger raise, 
No Honour tempt to Pride; 
No vain Desires of empty Praise 
Must in the Soul abide. 
No Charms of Youth, or Beauty move 
The constant, settl'd Breast: 
Who leaves a Passage free to...Read more of this...

The Man Bitten By Fleas

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 A Peevish Fellow laid his Head 
On Pillows, stuff'd with Down; 
But was no sooner warm in Bed, 
With hopes to rest his Crown, 

But Animals of slender size, 
That feast on humane Gore, 
From secret Ambushes arise, 
Nor suffer him to snore; 

Who starts, and scrubs, and frets, and swears, 
'Till, finding all in vain, 
He for Relief...Read more of this...

A Nocturnal Reverie

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
In such a night, when every louder wind
Is to its distant cavern safe confined;
And only gentle Zephyr fans his wings,
And lonely Philomel, still waking, sings;
Or from some tree, famed for the owl's delight,
She, hollowing clear, directs the wand'rer right:
In such a night, when passing clouds give place,
Or thinly veil the heav'ns' mysterious face;
When in some river, overhung with green,
The waving...Read more of this...

The Hog The Sheep And Goat Carrying To A FAIR

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 Who does not wish, ever to judge aright, 
And, in the Course of Life's Affairs, 
To have a quick, and far extended Sight, 
Tho' it too often multiplies his Cares? 
And who has greater Sense, but greater Sorrow shares? 

This felt the Swine, now carrying to the Knife; 
And whilst the Lamb and silent Goat 
In the same fatal...Read more of this...

Friendship Between Ephelia And Ardelia

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 Eph. What Friendship is, ARDELIA shew. 
Ard. 'Tis to love, as I love You. 
Eph. This Account, so short (tho' kind)
Suits not my enquiring Mind. 
Therefore farther now repeat; 
What is Friendship when complete? 
Ard. 'Tis to share all Joy and Grief; 
'Tis to lend all due Relief
From the Tongue, the Heart, the Hand; 
'Tis to mortgage House and...Read more of this...

The Tree

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 Fair tree! for thy delightful shade 
'Tis just that some return be made;
Sure some return is due from me
To thy cool shadows, and to thee.
When thou to birds dost shelter give,
Thou music dost from them receive;
If travellers beneath thee stay
Till storms have worn themselves away,
That time in praising thee they spend
And thy protecting pow'r commend.
The shepherd here, from scorching...Read more of this...

Verses

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 Observe this Piece, which to our Sight does bring 
The fittest Posture for the Swedish King; 
(Encompass'd, as we think, with Armies round, 
Tho' not express'd within this narrow Bound) 
Who, whilst his warlike and extended Hand 
Directs the foremost Ranks to Charge or Stand, 
Reverts his Face, lest That, so Fair and Young, 
Should call in doubt the...Read more of this...

Three Songs

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 LOVE, thou art best of Human Joys, 
Our chiefest Happiness below;
All other Pleasures are but Toys,
Musick without Thee is but Noise, 
And Beauty but an empty Show. 
Heav'n, who knew best what Man wou'd move, 
And raise his Thoughts above the Brute;
Said, Let him Be, and let him Love;
That must alone his Soul improve, 
Howe'er Philosophers dispute. 


II

Quickly, Delia,...Read more of this...

The Tradesman and the Scholar

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 A Citizen of mighty Pelf, 
But much a Blockhead, in himself 
Disdain'd a Man of shining Parts, 
Master of Sciences and Arts, 
Who left his Book scarce once a day 
For sober Coffee, Smoak, or Tea; 
Nor spent more Money in the Town 
Than bought, when need requir'd, a Gown; 
Which way of Living much offends 
The Alderman, who...Read more of this...

An Apology for my fearfull temper

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 Tis true of courage I'm no mistress
No Boadicia nor Thalestriss
Nor shall I e'er be famed hereafter
For such a Soul as Cato's Daughter
Nor active valour nor enduring 
Nor leading troops nor forts securing
Like Teckley's wife or Pucell valiant
Will e'er be reckonded for my talent
Who all things fear whilst day is shining
And my own shadow light declining 
And from the Spleen's...Read more of this...

Three Songs

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:
Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd,--
The wild waves whist--
Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
Hark, hark!
Bow, wow,
The watch-dogs bark:
Bow, wow.
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow!

--from The Tempest




Tell me where is Fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head?
How begot, how nourishèd?
Reply, reply.
It is engender'd...Read more of this...

Adam Posed

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
Could our first father, at his toilsome plow,
Thorns in his path, and labor on his brow,
Clothed only in a rude, unpolished skin,
Could he a vain fantastic nymph have seen,
In all her airs, in all her antic graces,
Her various fashions, and more various faces;
How had it posed that skill, which late assigned
Just appellations to each several kind!
A right idea of the...Read more of this...

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