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Famous Huts Poems by Famous Poets

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

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by Gibran, Kahlil
...where are you? Are you 
Praying in the temple? Or calling Nature in the 
Field, haven of your dreams? 


Are you in the huts of the poor, consoling the 
Broken-hearted with the sweetness of your soul, and 
Filling their hands with your bounty? 


You are God's spirit everywhere; 
You are stronger than the ages. 


Do you have memory of the day we met, when the halo of 
You spirit surrounded us, and the Angels of Love 
Floated about, singing the praise of the soul's deed? ...Read more of this...



by Whitman, Walt
...and wood! O Personality!
O the village or place which has the greatest man or woman! even if it be only a few
 ragged
 huts; 
O the city where women walk in public processions in the streets, the same as the men; 
O a wan and terrible emblem, by me adopted! 
O shapes arising! shapes of the future centuries! 
O muscle and pluck forever for me!
O workmen and workwomen forever for me! 
O farmers and sailors! O drivers of horses forever for me! 
O I will make the new bardic list...Read more of this...

by Browning, Robert
...omes,
Gathered within that precinct small
By the dozen ways one roams---

XVII.

To drop from the charcoal-burners' huts,
Or climb from the hemp-dressers' low shed,
Leave the grange where the woodman stores his nuts,
Or the wattled cote where the fowlers spread
Their gear on the rock's bare juts.

XVIII.

It has some pretension too, this front,
With its bit of fresco half-moon-wise
Set over the porch, Art's early wont:
'Tis John in the Desert, I surmise,
But has b...Read more of this...

by Byron, George (Lord)
...lled into a selfish prayer for light;
And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings—the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed,
And men were gathered round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other's face;
Happy were those which dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanoes, and their mountain-torch;
A fearful hope was all the world contained;
Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour
T...Read more of this...

by Rich, Adrienne
...n-partisan
the freeways burned, but not with hatred

Even the miles of barbed-wire
stretched around crouching temporary huts
designed to keep the unwanted
at a safe distance, out of sight
even the boards that had to absorb
year upon year, so many human sounds

so many depths of vomit, tears
slow-soaking blood
had not offered themselves for this
The trees didn't volunteer to be cut into boards
nor the thorns for tearing flesh
Look around at all of it

and ask whose signature 
...Read more of this...



by Campbell, Thomas
...ined eye was keen,
As eagle of the wilderness, to scan
His path by mountain, swamp, or deep ravine,
Or ken far friendly huts on good savannas green.

Old Albert saw him from the valley's side--
His pirogue launch'd--his pilgrimage begun--
Far, like the red-bird's wing he seem'd to glide;
Then dived, and vanish'd in the woodlands dun.
Oft, to that spot by tender memory won,
Would Albert climb the promontory's height,
If but a dim sail glimmer'd in the sun;
But never mo...Read more of this...

by Betjeman, John
...Leave no old village standing
Which could provide a landing
For aeroplanes to roar,
But spare such cheap defacements
As huts with shattered casements
Unlived-in since the war.

Let no provincial High Street
Which might be your or my street
Look as it used to do,
But let the chain stores place here
Their miles of black glass facia
And traffic thunder through.

And if there is some scenery,
Some unpretentious greenery,
Surviving anywhere,
It does not need protecting
For...Read more of this...

by Whitman, Walt
...sailing—the Thousand Islands—the occasional timber-raft, and the
 raftsmen
 with long-reaching sweep-oars, 
The little huts on the rafts, and the stream of smoke when they cook their supper at
 evening.

O something pernicious and dread! 
Something far away from a puny and pious life! 
Something unproved! Something in a trance! 
Something escaped from the anchorage, and driving free. 

O to work in mines, or forging iron!
Foundry casting—the foundry itself—the rude h...Read more of this...

by Whitman, Walt
...wonder rolling through the air; 
I see diminute farms, hamlets, ruins, grave-yards, jails, factories, palaces, hovels, huts
 of
 barbarians, tents of nomads, upon the surface; 
I see the shaded part on one side, where the sleepers are sleeping—and the sun-lit part on
 the
 other side, 
I see the curious silent change of the light and shade, 
I see distant lands, as real and near to the inhabitants of them, as my land is to me.

I see plenteous waters; 
I see mountain pea...Read more of this...

by Kipling, Rudyard
...'em good roads an' -- they roll down the khud,
 Reporting, etc.

We make 'em their bridges, their wells, an' their huts,
An' the telegraph-wire the enemy cuts,
 An' it's blamed on, etc.

An' when we return, an' from war we would cease,
They grudge us adornin' the billets of peace,
 Which are kept for, etc.

We build 'em nice barracks -- they swear they are bad,
That our Colonels are Methodist, married or mad,
 Insultin', etc.

They haven't no manners nor grat...Read more of this...

by Ginsberg, Allen
...Millions of babies watching the skies
Bellies swollen, with big round eyes
On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts
Noplace to **** but sand channel ruts

Millions of fathers in rain
Millions of mothers in pain
Millions of brothers in woe
Millions of sisters nowhere to go

One Million aunts are dying for bread
One Million uncles lamenting the dead
Grandfather millions homeless and sad
Grandmother millions silently mad

Millions of daughters walk in the mud
Millions o...Read more of this...

by Whitman, Walt
...rt the sierras—my palms cover continents; 
I am afoot with my vision. 

By the city’s quadrangular houses—in log huts—camping with
 lumbermen;
Along the ruts of the turnpike—along the dry gulch and rivulet bed; 
Weeding my onion-patch, or hoeing rows of carrots and parsnips—crossing
 savannas—trailing in forests; 
Prospecting—gold-digging—girdling the trees of a new purchase; 
Scorch’d ankle-deep by the hot sand—hauling my boat down the shallow
 river; 
Where t...Read more of this...

by Whitman, Walt
...ll till one flash of defiance. 

The great city is that which has the greatest man or woman; 
If it be a few ragged huts, it is still the greatest city in the whole world. 

5
The place where the great city stands is not the place of stretch’d wharves, docks,
 manufactures,
 deposits of produce,
Nor the place of ceaseless salutes of new comers, or the anchor-lifters of the departing,

Nor the place of the tallest and costliest buildings, or shops selling goods from th...Read more of this...

by Angelou, Maya
...upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
...Read more of this...

by Service, Robert William
...Beyond the Rocking Bridge it lies, the burg of evil fame,
The huts where hive and swarm and thrive the sisterhood of shame.
Through all the night each cabin light goes out and then goes in,
A blood-red heliograph of lust, a semaphore of sin.
From Dawson Town, soft skulking down, each lewdster seeks his mate;
And glad and bad, kimono clad, the wanton women wait.
The Klondike gossips to the moon, and sinners ...Read more of this...

by Sexton, Anne
...g waves at my thighs
and a storm riding into the cove. We swam
while the others beached and burst
for their boarded huts, their hale cries
shouting back to us and the hollow slam
of the dory against the float.
Black arms of thunder strapped
upon us, squalled out, we breathed in rain
and stroked past the boat.
We thrashed for shore as if we were trapped
in green and that suddenly inadequate stain

of lightning belling around
our skin. Bodies in air
we raced for...Read more of this...

by Scott, Sir Walter
...deed
     Are in thy course—speed, Malise, speed!
     XIV.

     Fast as the fatal symbol flies,
     In arms the huts and hamlets rise;
     From winding glen, from upland brown,
     They poured each hardy tenant down.
      Nor slacked the messenger his pace;
     He showed the sign, he named the place,
     And, pressing forward like the wind,
     Left clamor and surprise behind.
     The fisherman forsook the strand,
     The swarthy smith took dirk and br...Read more of this...

by Shelley, Percy Bysshe
...row after row,
She saw the priests asleep,--all of one sort,
For all were educated to be so.
The peasants in their huts, and in the port
The sailors she saw cradled on the waves,
And the dead lulled within their dreamless graves.

And all the forms in which those spirits lay
Were to her sight like the diaphanous
Veils in which those sweet ladies oft array
Their delicate limbs who would conceal from us
Only their scorn of all concealment: they
Move in the light of the...Read more of this...

by St Vincent Millay, Edna
...
Where are forests hot as fire, 
Wide as England, tall as a spire, 
Full of apes and cocoa-nuts 
And the ***** hunters' huts;-- 
Where the knotty crocodile 
Lies and blinks in the Nile, 
And the red flamingo flies 
Hunting fish before his eyes;-- 
Where in jungles near and far, 
Man-devouring tigers are, 
Lying close and giving ear 
Lest the hunt be drawing near, 
Or a comer-by be seen 
Swinging in the palanquin;-- 
Where among the desert sands 
Some deserted city stands, 
Al...Read more of this...

by Montgomery, Lucy Maud
...ander when the dark comes down. 

When the dark comes down, oh, the children fall asleep,
And mothers in the fisher huts their happy vigils keep;
There's music in the song they sing and music on the sea, 
The loving, lingering echoes of the twilight's litany,
For toil has folded hands to dream, and care has ceased to frown,
And every wave's a lyric when the dark comes down....Read more of this...

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Book: Reflection on the Important Things