Famous Limb Poems by Famous Poets

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

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The Higher Pantheism

by Alfred Lord Tennyson
 The sun, the moon, the stars, the seas, the hills and the plains,-
Are not these, O Soul, the Vision of Him who reigns?
Is not the Vision He, tho' He be not that which He seems?
Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?
Earth, these solid stars, this weight of body and limb,
Are they not sign...Read more of this...

Weary Waitress

by Robert William Service
 Her smile ineffably is sweet,
 Devinely she is slim;
Yet oh how weary are her feet,
 How aches her every limb!
Thank God it's near to closing time,
 --Merciful midnight chime.

Then in her mackintosh she'll go
 Up seven flights of stairs,
And on her bed her body throw,
 Too tired to say her prayers;
Yet not too sleepy to forget
 Her cheap alarm...Read more of this...

Tortoise Gallantry

by D. H. Lawrence
 Making his advances
He does not look at her, nor sniff at her,
No, not even sniff at her, his nose is blank.
Only he senses the vulnerable folds of skin
That work beneath her while she sprawls along
In her ungainly pace,
Her folds of skin that work and row
Beneath the earth-soiled hovel in which she moves.

And so he strains beneath her housey wall,
And...Read more of this...

Bessies Boil

by Robert William Service
 Says I to my Missis: "Ba goom, lass! you've something I see, on your mind."
Says she: "You are right, Sam, I've something. It 'appens it's on me be'ind.
A Boil as 'ud make Job jealous. It 'urts me no end when I sit."
Says I: "Go to 'ospittel, Missis. They might 'ave to coot it a bit."
Says she: "I just 'ate...Read more of this...

Camouflage

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 Beside the bare and beaten track of travelling flocks and herds 
The woodpecker went tapping on, the postman of the birds, 
"I've got a letter here," he said, "that no one's understood, 
Addressed as follows: 'To the bird that's like a piece of wood.' 
"The soldier bird got very cross -- it wasn't meant for her; 
The spurwing plover...Read more of this...

The Woods At Night

by May Swenson
 The binocular owl,
fastened to a limb
like a lantern
all night long,

sees where all
the other birds sleep:
towhee under leaves,
titmouse deep

in a twighouse,
sapsucker gripped
to a knothole lip,
redwing in the reeds,

swallow in the willow,
flicker in the oak -
but cannot see poor
whippoorwill

under the hill
in deadbrush nest,
who's awake, too -
with stricken eye

flayed by the moon
her brindled breast
repeats, repeats, repeats its plea
for cruelty....Read more of this...

The Ballad Of The Brand

by Robert William Service
 'Twas up in a land long famed for gold, where women were far and rare,
Tellus, the smith, had taken to wife a maiden amazingly fair;
Tellus, the brawny worker in iron, hairy and heavy of hand,
Saw her and loved her and bore her away from the tribe of a Southern land;
Deeming her worthy to queen his home and mother him...Read more of this...

Lost

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 "He ought to be home," said the old man, "without there's something amiss. 
He only went to the Two-mile -- he ought to be back by this. 
He would ride the Reckless filly, he would have his wilful way; 
And, here, he's not back at sundown -- and what will his mother say? 
"He was always his mother's idol,...Read more of this...

Ode to Napoleon Bonaparte

by George (Lord) Byron
 I 
'Tis done -- but yesterday a King! 
And arm'd with Kings to strive -- 
And now thou art a nameless thing: 
So abject -- yet alive! 
Is this the man of thousand thrones, 
Who strew'd our earth with hostile bones, 
And can he thus survive? 
Since he, miscall'd the Morning Star, 
Nor man nor fiend hath fallen so...Read more of this...

Compassion

by Robert William Service
 A beggar in the street I saw,
Who held a hand like withered claw,
 As cold as clay;
But as I had no silver groat
To give, I buttoned up my coat
 And turned away.

And then I watched a working wife
Who bore the bitter load of life
 With lagging limb;
A penny from her purse she took,
And with sweet pity in her look
...Read more of this...

His Phoenix

by William Butler Yeats
 There is a queen in China, or maybe it's in Spain,
And birthdays and holidays such praises can be heard
Of her unblemished lineaments, a whiteness with no stain,
That she might be that sprightly girl trodden by a bird;
And there's a score of duchesses, surpassing womankind,
Or who have found a painter to make them so for pay
And smooth out stain and...Read more of this...

The Twins

by Robert William Service
 There were two brothers, John and James,
And when the town went up in flames,
To save the house of James dashed John,
Then turned, and lo! his own was gone.

And when the great World War began,
To volunteer John promptly ran;
And while he learned live bombs to lob,
James stayed at home and -- sneaked his job.

John came home with a missing limb;
That...Read more of this...

It Is A Spring Afternoon

by Anne Sexton
 Everything here is yellow and green.
Listen to its throat, its earthskin,
the bone dry voices of the peepers
as they throb like advertisements.
The small animals of the woods
are carrying their deathmasks
into a narrow winter cave.
The scarecrow has plucked out
his two eyes like diamonds
and walked into the village.
The general and the postman
have taken off their packs.
This has all happened before
but nothing here...Read more of this...

In Memory of Radio

by Imamu Amiri Baraka
Who has ever stopped to think of the divinity of Lamont Cranston?
(Only jack Kerouac, that I know of: & me.
The rest of you probably had on WCBS and Kate Smith,
Or something equally unattractive.)

What can I say?
It is better to haved loved and lost
Than to put linoleum in your living rooms?

Am I a sage or something?
Mandrake's hypnotic gesture of the week?
(Remember,...Read more of this...

In As Much …

by George William Russell
 WHEN for love it was fain of
The wild heart was chidden,
When the white limbs were clothed
And the beauty was hidden;


For the scorn that was done to
The least of her graces,
The Mother veiled over
And hid from our faces


The high soul of nature,
The deep and the wonder,
Her towers up in heaven,
And the fairyland under.


The Mother then whispered,
“The wrong done by thee
To...Read more of this...

A Change of Menu

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 Now the new chum loaded his three-nought-three, 
It's a small-bore gun, but his hopes were big. 
"I am fed to the teeth with old ewe," said he, 
"And I might be able to shoot a pig." 
And he trusted more to his nose than ear 
To give him warning when pigs were near. 

Out of his lair in the...Read more of this...

His Dream

by William Butler Yeats
 I swayed upon the gaudy stem
The butt-end of a steering-oar,
And saw wherever I could turn
A crowd upon a shore.

And though I would have hushed the crowd,
There was no mother's son but said,
"What is the figure in a shroud
Upon a gaudy bed?'

And after running at the brim
Cried out upon that thing beneath
 - It had such dignity of limb -
By...Read more of this...

Shes All My Fancy Painted Him

by Lewis Carroll
 She's all my fancy painted him 
(I make no idle boast); 
If he or you had lost a limb, 
Which would have suffered most? 

He said that you had been to her, 
And seen me here before; 
But, in another character, 
She was the same of yore. 

There was not one that spoke to us, 
Of all that thronged...Read more of this...

Athabaska Dick

by Robert William Service
 When the boys come out from Lac Labiche in the lure of the early Spring,
To take the pay of the "Hudson's Bay", as their fathers did before,
They are all a-glee for the jamboree, and they make the Landing ring
With a whoop and a whirl, and a "Grab your girl", and a rip and a skip and a roar.
For the...Read more of this...

The Convent Threshold

by Christina Rossetti
 There's blood between us, love, my love,
There's father's blood, there's brother's blood,
And blood's a bar I cannot pass.
I choose the stairs that mount above,
Stair after golden sky-ward stair,
To city and to sea of glass.
My lily feet are soiled with mud,
With scarlet mud which tells a tale
Of hope that was, of guilt that was,
Of love that shall not yet avail;
Alas,...Read more of this...

Quia Multum Amavit

by Algernon Charles Swinburne
 Am I not he that hath made thee and begotten thee,
I, God, the spirit of man?
Wherefore now these eighteen years hast thou forgotten me,
From whom thy life began?
Thy life-blood and thy life-breath and thy beauty,
Thy might of hands and feet,
Thy soul made strong for divinity of duty
And service which was sweet.
Through the red sea brimmed with blood didst thou...Read more of this...

My Husky Team

by Robert William Service
 I met an ancient man who mushed
With Peary to the Pole.
Said I, "In all that land so hushed
What most inspired your soul?"
He looked at me with bleary eye,
He scratched a hoary head:
"You know that Sourdoughs jest cain't lie
So here's the dope," he said.

"That hike was like a devil's dream,
Just blizzards, gales and fogs,
But I was leadin' wi' my team
O'...Read more of this...

St. Winefreds Well

by Gerard Manley Hopkins
 ACT I. SC. I

Enter Teryth from riding, Winefred following.

T. WHAT is it, Gwen, my girl? why do you hover and haunt me? 

W. You came by Caerwys, sir? 
T. I came by Caerwys. 
W. There
Some messenger there might have met you from my uncle. 
T. Your uncle met the messenger—met me; and this the message:
Lord Beuno comes to-night. 
W....Read more of this...

The Lost Pyx: A Mediaeval Legend

by Thomas Hardy
 Some say the spot is banned; that the pillar Cross-and-Hand 
 Attests to a deed of hell; 
But of else than of bale is the mystic tale 
 That ancient Vale-folk tell. 

Ere Cernel's Abbey ceased hereabout there dwelt a priest, 
 (In later life sub-prior 
Of the brotherhood there, whose bones are now bare 
 In the field...Read more of this...

Growing Old

by Matthew Arnold
 What is it to grow old?
Is it to lose the glory of the form,
The lustre of the eye?
Is it for beauty to forego her wreath?
Yes, but not for this alone.

Is it to feel our strength— 
Not our bloom only, but our strength—decay?
Is it to feel each limb
Grow stiffer, every function less exact,
Each nerve more weakly strung?

Yes, this, and more!...Read more of this...

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