Famous Leaders Poems by Famous Poets

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

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The Ballad of G. R. Dibbs

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 This is the story of G.R.D., 
Who went on a mission across the sea 
To borrow some money for you and me. 

This G. R. Dibbs was a stalwart man 
Who was built on a most extensive plan, 
And a regular staunch Republican. 

But he fell in the hands of the Tory crew 
Who said, "It's a shame that...Read more of this...

The Lesson Of The Patriot Dead

by Victor Hugo
 ("O caresse sublime.") 
 
 {April, 1871.} 


 Upon the grave's cold mouth there ever have caresses clung 
 For those who died ideally good and grand and pure and young; 
 Under the scorn of all who clamor: "There is nothing just!" 
 And bow to dread inquisitor and worship lords of dust; 
 Let sophists give the...Read more of this...

Spats

by Robert William Service
 When young I was a Socialist
 Despite my tender years;
No blessed chance I ever missed
 To slam the profiteers.
Yet though a fanatic I was,
 And cursed aristocrats,
The Party chucked me out because
 I sported Spats.

Aye, though on soap boxes I stood,
 And spouted in the parks,
They grizzled that my foot-wear would
 Be disavowed my Marx.
It's buttons of a pearly...Read more of this...

Objector

by William Stafford
 In line at lunch I cross my fork and spoon
to ward off complicity--the ordered life
our leaders have offered us. Thin as a knife,
our chance to live depends on such a sign
while others talk and The Pentagon from the moon
is bouncing exact commands: "Forget your faith;
be ready for whatever it takes to win: we face
annihilation unless all citizens get in...Read more of this...

Commination

by Alec Derwent (A D) Hope
 He that is filthy let him be filthy still. 
Rev. 22.11 

Like John on Patmos, brooding on the Four 
Last Things, I meditate the ruin of friends 
Whose loss, Lord, brings this grand new curse to mind 
Now send me foes worth cursing, or send more 
- Since means should be proportionate to ends - 
For mine are few...Read more of this...

The Cambaroora Star

by Henry Lawson
 So you're writing for a paper? Well, it's nothing very new 
To be writing yards of drivel for a tidy little screw; 
You are young and educated, and a clever chap you are, 
But you'll never run a paper like the CAMBAROORA STAR. 
Though in point of education I am nothing but a dunce, 
I myself -- you mayn't...Read more of this...

Old Pardon the Son of Reprieve

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 You never heard tell of the story? 
Well, now, I can hardly believe! 
Never heard of the honour and glory 
Of Pardon, the son of Reprieve? 
But maybe you're only a Johnnie 
And don't know a horse from a hoe? 
Well, well, don't get angry, my sonny, 
But, really, a young un should know. 
They bred him out back...Read more of this...

The Battle of Flodden Field

by William Topaz McGonagall
 'Twas on the 9th of September, a very beautiful day,
That a numerous English army came in grand array,
And pitched their tents on Flodden field so green
In the year of our Lord fifteen hundred and thirteen. 

And on the ridge of Braxton hill the Scottish army lay,
All beautifully arrayed, and eager for the fray,
And near by stood their noble king...Read more of this...

The Leaders Of The Crowd

by William Butler Yeats
 They must to keep their certainty accuse
All that are different of a base intent;
Pull down established honour; hawk for news
Whatever their loose fantasy invent
And murmur it with bated breath, as though
The abounding gutter had been Helicon
Or calumny a song. How can they know
Truth flourishes where the student's lamp has shone,
And there alone, that have no Solitude?
So the crowd come...Read more of this...

The Emperor's Return

by Victor Hugo
 ("Un bouffon manquait à cette fête.") 
 
 {LES BURGRAVES, Part II.} 


 The EMPEROR FREDERICK BARBAROSSA, believed to be dead, appearing 
 as a beggar among the Rhenish nobility at a castle, suddenly reveals 
 himself. 
 
 HATTO. This goodly masque but lacked a fool! 
 First gypsy; next a beggar;—good! Thy name? 
 
 BARBAROSSA. Frederick...Read more of this...

Jeanne dArc

by Henry Van Dyke
 The land was broken in despair,
The princes quarrelled in the dark,
When clear and tranquil, through the troubled air
Of selfish minds and wills that did not dare,
Your star arose, Jeanne d'Arc.

O virgin breast with lilies white,
O sun-burned hand that bore the lance,
You taught the prayer that helps men to unite,
You brought the courage equal to the fight,
You gave a heart...Read more of this...

The White Bees

by Henry Van Dyke
 I 

LEGEND 

Long ago Apollo called to Aristæus, 
youngest of the shepherds,
Saying, "I will make you keeper of my bees." 
Golden were the hives, and golden was the honey;
golden, too, the music,
Where the honey-makers hummed among the trees. 

Happy Aristæus loitered in the garden, wandered
in the orchard,
Careless and contented, indolent and free; 
Lightly took his labour, lightly took his...Read more of this...

The Rape of the Lock: Canto 3

by Alexander Pope
 Close by those meads, for ever crown'd with flow'rs, 
Where Thames with pride surveys his rising tow'rs,
There stands a structure of majestic frame,
Which from the neighb'ring Hampton takes its name.
Here Britain's statesmen oft the fall foredoom
Of foreign tyrants and of nymphs at home;
Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey,
Dost sometimes counsel take--and sometimes tea.
Hither the heroes and the...Read more of this...

From A German War Primer

by Bertolt Brecht
 AMONGST THE HIGHLY PLACED
It is considered low to talk about food.
The fact is: they have
Already eaten.

The lowly must leave this earth
Without having tasted
Any good meat.

For wondering where they come from and
Where they are going
The fine evenings find them
Too exhausted.

They have not yet seen
The mountains and the great sea
When their time is already up.

If the lowly do not
Think about what's...Read more of this...

To Think of Time

by Walt Whitman
 1
TO think of time—of all that retrospection! 
To think of to-day, and the ages continued henceforward! 

Have you guess’d you yourself would not continue? 
Have you dreaded these earth-beetles? 
Have you fear’d the future would be nothing to you?

Is to-day nothing? Is the beginningless past nothing? 
If the future is nothing, they are just as surely nothing. 

To think...Read more of this...

WARS and RUMORS OF WARS

by Emanuel Xavier
 “Ye shall hear of wars and rumors of wars;
see that ye not be troubles;
all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet”
-Matthew 24:6

1.
I escape the horrors of war 
with a towel and a room
Offering myself 
to Palestinian and Jewish boys
as a ‘piece’ to the Middle East
when I should be concerned with the untimely deaths
of dark-skinned...Read more of this...

No ladder needs the bird but skies

by Emily Dickinson
 No ladder needs the bird but skies
To situate its wings,
Nor any leader's grim baton
Arraigns it as it sings.
The implements of bliss are few --
As Jesus says of Him,
"Come unto me" the moiety
That wafts the cherubim....Read more of this...

Success

by Robert William Service
 You ask me what I call Success -
It is, I wonder, Happiness?

It is not wealth, it is not fame,
Nor rank, nor power nor honoured name.
It is not triumph in the Arts -
Best-selling books or leading parts.
It is not plaudits of the crowd,
The flame of flags, processions proud.
The panegyrics of the Press
are but the mirage of Success.
You may have all...Read more of this...

The City of the Dead XX

by Kahlil Gibran
 Yesterday I drew myself from the noisome throngs and proceeded into the field until I reached a knoll upon which Nature had spread her comely garments. Now I could breathe. 

I looked back, and the city appeared with its magnificent mosques and stately residences veiled by the smoke of the shops. 

I commenced analyzing man's mission, but could conclude...Read more of this...

Queen Matilda

by Marriott Edgar
 Henry the first, surnamed " Beauclare," 
Lost his only son William at sea,
So when Henry died it were hard to decide 
Who his heir and successor should be.

There were two runners-up for the title- 
His daughter Matilda was one,
And the other, a boy, known as Stephen of Blois, 
His young sister Adela's son.

Matilda by right should have had it,
Being...Read more of this...

The Battle of Glencoe

by William Topaz McGonagall
 Twas in the month of October, and in the year of 1899,
Which the Boers will remember for a very long time,
Because by the British Army they received a crushing blow;
And were driven from Smith's Hill at the Battle of Glencoe. 

The Boers' plan of the battle was devised with great skill,
And about 7000 men of them were camped on...Read more of this...

Tom Collins

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 Who never drinks and never bets, 
But loves his wife and pays his debts 
And feels content with what he gets? 
Tom Collins. 

Who has the utmost confidence 
That all the banks now in suspense 
Will meet their paper three years hence? 
Tom Collins. 

Who reads the Herald leaders through, 
And takes the Evening News for true, 
And thought...Read more of this...

Johnny Boer

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 Men fight all shapes and sizes as the racing horses run, 
And no man knows his courage till he stands before a gun. 
At mixed-up fighting, hand to hand, and clawing men about 
They reckon Fuzzy-Wuzzy is the hottest fighter out. 
But Fuzzy gives himself away -- his style is out of date, 
He charges like a driven grouse...Read more of this...

The Seven Ages of Wise

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 Parliament's a stage, 
And all the Politicians merely players! 
They have their exits and entrances, 
And Wise doth in his time play many parts, 
His acts being seven changes. 
First the Runner, 
With spiked shoe he spurns the cinder track, 
And just for once runs straight. 

The next the Student, 
Burning the midnight oil with Adam Smith 
For Cobden...Read more of this...

Death

by James Henry Leigh Hunt
 My body, eh? Friend Death, how now? 
Why all this tedious pomp of writ? 
Thou hast reclaimed it sure and slow 
For half a century bit by bit.

In faith thou knowest more to-day 
Than I do, where it can be found! 
This shrivelled lump of suffering clay, 
To which I am now chained and bound,

Has not of kith or...Read more of this...

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