Famous Know How Poems by Famous Poets
These are examples of famous Know How poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous know how poems. These examples illustrate what a famous know how poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).
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by
Omar Khayyam
The day when I shall know myself no more, and when
they will speak of me as of a fable, then I desire [do
I dare say it?] that my clay be made into a jar for wine
and destined to service at the tavern....Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
You'll know it -- as you know 'tis Noon --
By Glory --
As you do the Sun --
By Glory --
As you will in Heaven --
Know God the Father -- and the Son.
By intuition, Mightiest Things
Assert themselves -- and not by terms --
"I'm Midnight" -- need the Midnight say --
"I'm Sunrise" -- Need the Majesty?
Omnipotence -- had not a Tongue --
His...Read more of this...
by
Robert Louis Stevenson
MINE eyes were swift to know thee, and my heart
As swift to love. I did become at once
Thine wholly, thine unalterably, thine
In honourable service, pure intent,
Steadfast excess of love and laughing care:
And as she was, so am, and so shall be.
I knew thee helpful, knew thee true, knew thee
And Pity bedfellows: I heard thy talk
With answerable throbbings. On the...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
"Unto Me?" I do not know you --
Where may be your House?
"I am Jesus -- Late of Judea --
Now -- of Paradise" --
Wagons -- have you -- to convey me?
This is far from Thence --
"Arms of Mine -- sufficient Phaeton --
Trust Omnipotence" --
I am spotted -- "I am Pardon" --
I am small -- "The Least
Is esteemed in Heaven the...Read more of this...
by
Carl Sandburg
THE LAWYERS, Bob, know too much.
They are chums of the books of old John Marshall.
They know it all, what a dead hand wrote,
A stiff dead hand and its knuckles crumbling,
The bones of the fingers a thin white ash.
The lawyers know
a dead man’s thoughts too well.
In the heels of the higgling lawyers, Bob,
Too many slippery ifs and buts...Read more of this...
by
Omar Khayyam
Since you all secrets know, my friend, why be a prey
to so many vain torments? Suppose things do not fall
in touch with your desires, you can at least be gay while
you still breathe....Read more of this...
by
Edna St. Vincent Millay
I know the face of Falsehood and her Tongue
Honeyed with unction, Plausible with guile,
Are dear to men, whom count me not among,
That owe their daily credit to her smile;
Such have been succoured out of great distress
By her contriving, if accounts be true:
Their deference now above the board, I guess,
Dishcharges what beneath the board is due.
As for myself, I'd liefer...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
The Way to know the Bobolink
From every other Bird
Precisely as the Joy of him --
Obliged to be inferred.
Of impudent Habiliment
Attired to defy,
Impertinence subordinate
At times to Majesty.
Of Sentiments seditious
Amenable to Law --
As Heresies of Transport
Or Puck's Apostacy.
Extrinsic to Attention
Too intimate with Joy --
He compliments existence
Until allured away
By Seasons or his Children --
Adult and urgent grown --
Or unforeseen aggrandizement
Or, happily, Renown...Read more of this...
by
John Berryman
I don't know one damned butterfly from another
my ignorance of the stars is formidable,
also of dogs & ferns
except that around my house one destroys the other
When I reckon up my real ignorance, pal,
I mumble "many returns"-”
next time it will be nature & Thoreau
this time is Baudelaire if one had the skill
and even those problems O
At the mysterious urging of...Read more of this...
by
Edward Lear
How pleasant to know Mr. Lear,
Who has written such volumes of stuff.
Some think him ill-tempered and *****,
But a few find him pleasant enough.
His mind is concrete and fastidious,
His nose is remarkably big;
His visage is more or less hideous,
His beard it resembles a wig.
He has ears, and two eyes, and ten fingers,...Read more of this...
by
Omar Khayyam
I know not at all whether He who created me belongs
to a delicious Paradise or a detestable Hell. [But I do
know] that a cup of wine, a charming girl and a zither
at the edge of a green field are three things which I enjoy
at present, and that you will find them in the promise
that is made you of a future...Read more of this...
by
Omar Khayyam
Drinkers alone know how to appreciate the language
of the roses and of wine, and not the feeble in heart or
the poor in spirit. Those who have no idea of what is
occult, to them ignorance is pardonable, for drunkards
alone can understand what belongs to such an order of
of things....Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
How know it from a Summer's Day?
Its Fervors are as firm --
And nothing in the Countenance
But scintillates the same --
Yet Birds examine it and flee --
And Vans without a name
Inspect the Admonition
And sunder as they came --...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
I know lives, I could miss
Without a Misery --
Others -- whose instant's wanting --
Would be Eternity --
The last -- a scanty Number --
'Twould scarcely fill a Two --
The first -- a Gnat's Horizon
Could easily outgrow --...Read more of this...
by
Paul Eluard
Despair has no wings,
Nor has love,
No countenance:
They do not speak.
I do not stir,
I do not behold them,
I do not speak to them,
But I am as real as my love and my despair....Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
The lonesome for they know not What --
The Eastern Exiles -- be --
Who strayed beyond the Amber line
Some madder Holiday --
And ever since -- the purple Moat
They strive to climb -- in vain --
As Birds -- that tumble from the clouds
Do fumble at the strain --
The Blessed Ether -- taught them --
Some Transatlantic Morn --
When Heaven -- was too...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
I cannot see my soul but know 'tis there
Nor ever saw his house nor furniture,
Who has invited me with him to dwell;
But a confiding guest consult as well,
What raiment honor him the most,
That I be adequately dressed,
For he insures to none
Lest men specified adorn
Procuring him perpetual drest
By dating it a sudden feast....Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
I've nothing else -- to bring, You know --
So I keep bringing These --
Just as the Night keeps fetching Stars
To our familiar eyes --
Maybe, we shouldn't mind them --
Unless they didn't come --
Then -- maybe, it would puzzle us
To find our way Home --...Read more of this...
by
Yehuda Amichai
I know a man
who photographed the view he saw
from the window of the room where he made love
and not the face of the woman he loved there....Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
The Only News I know
Is Bulletins all Day
From Immortality.
The Only Shows I see --
Tomorrow and Today --
Perchance Eternity --
The Only One I meet
Is God -- The Only Street --
Existence -- This traversed
If Other News there be --
Or Admirable Show --
I'll tell it You --...Read more of this...
by
Claude McKay
I plucked my soul out of its secret place,
And held it to the mirror of my eye,
To see it like a star against the sky,
A twitching body quivering in space,
A spark of passion shining on my face.
And I explored it to determine why
This awful key to my infinity
Conspires to rob me of...Read more of this...
by
Maya Angelou
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
I shall know why -- when Time is over --
And I have ceased to wonder why --
Christ will explain each separate anguish
In the fair schoolroom of the sky --
He will tell me what "Peter" promised --
And I -- for wonder at his woe --
I shall forget the drop of Anguish
That scalds me now -- that scalds me now!...Read more of this...
by
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Here is a wound that never will heal, I know,
Being wrought not of a dearness and a death,
But of a love turned ashes and the breath
Gone out of beauty; never again will grow
The grass on that scarred acre, though I sow
Young seed there yearly and the sky bequeath
Its friendly weathers down, far Underneath
Shall be such bitterness of an old...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
I know Suspense -- it steps so terse
And turns so weak away --
Besides -- Suspense is neighborly
When I am riding by --
Is always at the Window
Though lately I descry
And mention to my Horses
The need is not of me --...Read more of this...
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