Famous Francis Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Encounter

by Robert Francis
 Those who have touched it or been touched by it
Or brushed by something that the vine has brushed,
Or burning it, have stood where the sly smoke
Has touched them-Know the meaning of its name.

The leaf is smooth. Its green is innocence.
A clean, unblemished leaf, glossy when young.
A leaf the unobserving might overlook
And the observing find too prosperous.

I've seen a vine...Read more of this...

Saint Francis And The Sow

by Galway Kinnell
The bud 
stands for all things, 
even for those things that don't flower, 
for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing; 
though sometimes it is necessary 
to reteach a thing its loveliness, 
to put a hand on its brow 
of the flower 
and retell it in words and in touch 
it is lovely 
until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing;...Read more of this...

On a Theme by Frost

by Robert Francis
 Amherst never had a witch
O Coos or of Grafton

But once upon a time
There were three old women.

One wore a small beard
And carried a big umbrella.

One stood in the middle
Of the road hailing cars.

One drove an old cart
All over the town collecting junk.

They were not weird sisters,
No relation to one another.

A duly accredited witch I
Never heard Amherst ever had

But as...Read more of this...

Summons

by Robert Francis
 Keep me from going to sleep too soon
Or if I go to sleep too soon
Come wake me up. Come any hour
Of night. Come whistling up the road.
Stomp on the porch. Bang on the door.
Make me get out of bed and come
And let you in and light a light.
Tell me the northern lights are on
And make me look. Or tell...Read more of this...

New Years Chimes

by Francis Thompson
 What is the song the stars sing?
(And a million songs are as song of one)
This is the song the stars sing:
(Sweeter song's none)

One to set, and many to sing,
(And a million songs are as song of one)
One to stand, and many to cling,
The many things, and the one Thing,
The one that runs not, the many that run.


The ever new...Read more of this...

The Bulldozer

by Robert Francis
 Bull by day
And dozes by night.

Would that the bulldozer
Dozed all the time

Would that the bulldozer
Would rust in peace.

His watchword
Let not a witch live

His battle cry
Better dead than red.

Give me if you must
The bull himself

But not the bulldozer
No, not the bulldozer....Read more of this...

Daisy

by Francis Thompson
 Where the thistle lifts a purple crown 
Six foot out of the turf, 
And the harebell shakes on the windy hill-- 
O breath of the distant surf!-- 

The hills look over on the South, 
And southward dreams the sea; 
And with the sea-breeze hand in hand 
Came innocence and she. 

Where 'mid the gorse the raspberry 
Red for the...Read more of this...

To Olivia

by Francis Thompson
 I fear to love thee, Sweet, because 
Love's the ambassador of loss; 
White flake of childhood, clinging so 
To my soiled raiment, thy shy snow 
At tenderest touch will shrink and go. 
Love me not, delightful child. 
My heart, by many snares beguiled, 
Has grown timorous and wild. 
It would fear thee not at all, 
Wert thou not so...Read more of this...

Francis II King of Naples

by Amy Lowell
 Written after reading Trevelyan's "Garibaldi 
and the making of Italy"

Poor foolish monarch, vacillating, vain,
Decaying victim of a race of kings,
Swift Destiny shook out her purple wings
And caught him in their shadow; not again
Could furtive plotting smear another stain
Across his tarnished honour. Smoulderings
Of sacrificial fires burst their rings
And blotted out in smoke his lost domain.
Bereft of courtiers, only with his...Read more of this...

Francis Turner

by Edgar Lee Masters
 I could not run or play
In boyhood.
In manhood I could only sip the cup,
Not drink --
For scarlet-fever left my heart diseased.
Yet I lie here
Soothed by a secret none but Mary knows:
There is a garden of acacia,
Catalpa trees, and arbors sweet with vines --
There on that afternoon in June
By Mary's side --
Kissing her with my soul upon my lips
It suddenly...Read more of this...

Symbol

by Robert Francis
 The winter apples have been picked, the garden turned.
Rain and wind have picked the maple leaves and gone.
The last of them now bank the house or have been burned.
None are left upon the trees or on the lawn.

Green and tall as ever it grew in spring the grass
Grows not too tall, will not be cut again this year.
Geraniums in...Read more of this...

What shall I your true love tell?

by Francis Thompson
 What shall I your true love tell, 
Earth forsaking maid? 
What shall I your true love tell 
When life's spectre's laid? 
"Tell him that, our side the grave, 
Maid may not believe 
Life should be so sad to have, 
That's so sad to leave!" 
What shall I your true love tell 
When I come to him? 
What shall I...Read more of this...

St. Francis and the Birds

by Katharine Tynan
 Little sisters, the birds: 
We must praise God, you and I­ 
You, with songs that fill the sky, 
I, with halting words. 

All things tell His praise,
Woods and waters thereof sing, 
Summer, Winter, Autumn, Spring, 
And the night and days. 

Yea, and cold and heat,
And the sun and stars and moon,
Sea with her monotonous tune,
Rain and hail and sleet,...Read more of this...

Thoreau in Italy

by Robert Francis
 Lingo of birds was easier than lingo of peasants-
they were elusive, though, the birds, for excellent reasons.
He thought of Virgil, Virgil who wasn't there to chat with.

History he never forgave for letting Latin
lapse into Italian, a renegade jabbering
musical enough but not enough to call music

So he conversed with stones, imperial and papal.
Even the preposterous popes he could condone
a moment...Read more of this...

New England Mind

by Robert Francis
 My mind matches this understand land.
Outdoors the pencilled tree, the wind-carved drift,
Indoors the constant fire, the careful thrift
Are facts that I accept and understand.

I have brought in red berries and green boughs-
Berries of black alder, boughs of pine.
They and the sunlight on them, both are mine.
I need no florist flowers in my house.


Having lived here the years that are...Read more of this...

Paper Men To Air Hopes And Fears

by Robert Francis
 The first speaker said
Fear fire. Fear furnaces
Incinerators, the city dump
The faint scratch of a match. 

The second speaker said
Fear water. Fear drenching rain
Drizzle, oceans, puddles, a damp
Day and the flush toilet. 

The third speaker said
Fear wind. And it needn't be
A hurricane. Drafts, open
Windows, electric fans. 

The fourth speaker said
Fear knives. Fear any sharp
Thing, machine, shears
Scissors, lawnmowers. 

The fifth speaker...Read more of this...

Glass

by Robert Francis
 O Man! what Inspiration was thy Guide, 
Who taught thee Light and Air thus to divide; 
To let in all the useful Beams of Day, 
Yet force, as subtil Winds, without thy Shash to stay; 
T'extract from Embers by a strange Device, 
Then polish fair these Flakes of solid Ice; 
Which, silver'd o'er, redouble all in place, 
And give...Read more of this...

279. Epigram on Francis Grose the Antiquary

by Robert Burns
 THE DEVIL got notice that Grose was a-dying
So whip! at the summons, old Satan came flying;
But when he approached where poor Francis lay moaning,
And saw each bed-post with its burthen a-groaning,
Astonish’d, confounded, cries Satan—“By G—,
I’ll want him, ere I take such a damnable load!”...Read more of this...

St. Francis of Assisi

by Vachel Lindsay
 Would I might wake St. Francis in you all, 
Brother of birds and trees, God's Troubadour, 
Blinded with weeping for the sad and poor; 
Our wealth undone, all strict Franciscan men, 
Come, let us chant the canticle again 
Of mother earth and the enduring sun. 
God make each soul the lonely leper's slave; 
God make us saints, and brave....Read more of this...

Of St. Francis and the Ass

by Katharine Tynan
 Our father, ere he went 
Out with his brother, Death, 
Smiling and well-content 
As a bridegroom goeth, 
Sweetly forgiveness prayed 
From man or beast whom he 
Had ever injured
Or burdened needlessly. 

'Verily,' then said he,
'I crave before I pass 
Forgiveness full and free
Of my little brother, the ass.
Many a time and oft, 
When winds and ways were hot, 
He...Read more of this...

Hallelujah: A Sestina

by Robert Francis
 A wind's word, the Hebrew Hallelujah.
I wonder they never gave it to a boy
(Hal for short) boy with wind-wild hair.
It means Praise God, as well it should since praise
Is what God's for. Why didn't they call my father
Hallelujah instead of Ebenezer? 

Eben, of course, but christened Ebenezer,
Product of Nova Scotia (hallelujah).
Daniel, a country doctor, was his father
And my father...Read more of this...

In No Strange Land

by Francis Thompson
 The kingdom of God is within you


O world invisible, we view thee, 
O world intangible, we touch thee, 
O world unknowable, we know thee, 
Inapprehensible, we clutch thee! 

Does the fish soar to find the ocean, 
The eagle plunge to find the air-- 
That we ask of the stars in motion 
If they have rumor of thee there? 

Not...Read more of this...

Go songs for ended is our brief sweet play

by Francis Thompson
 Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play; 
Go, children of swift joy and tardy sorrow: 
And some are sung, and that was yesterday, 
And some are unsung, and that may be tomorrow. 

Go forth; and if it be o'er stony way, 
Old joy can lend what newer grief must borrow: 
And it was sweet, and that was...Read more of this...

In Memoriam: Four Poets

by Robert Francis
 1

Searock his tower above the sea,
Searock he built, not ivory.
Searock as well his haunted art
Who gave to plunging hawks his hearts.

2

He loved to stand upon his head
To demonstrate he was not dead.
Ah, if his poems misbehave
'Tis only to defy the grave.

3

This exquisite patrician bird
Grooming a neatly folded wing
Guarded for years the Sacred Word.
A while he sang then ceased to...Read more of this...

An Arab Love-Song

by Francis Thompson
 The hunchèd camels of the night
Trouble the bright 
And silver waters of the moon. 
The Maiden of the Morn will soon 
Through Heaven stray and sing, 
Star gathering. 

Now while the dark about our loves is strewn, 
Light of my dark, blood of my heart, O come! 
And night will catch her breath up, and be dumb. 

Leave thy...Read more of this...

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