Famous Ploughed Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Reedy River

by Henry Lawson
 Ten miles down Reedy River 
A pool of water lies, 
And all the year it mirrors 
The changes in the skies, 
And in that pool's broad bosom 
Is room for all the stars; 
Its bed of sand has drifted 
O'er countless rocky bars. 

Around the lower edges 
There waves a bed of reeds, 
Where water rats are hidden 
And...Read more of this...

Towards The Imminent Days (Section 4)

by Les Murray
 In my aunt's house, the milk jug's beaded crochet cover
tickles the ear. We've eaten boiled things with butter. 
Pie spiced like islands, dissolving in cream, is now
dissolving in us. We've reached the teapot of calm. 
The table we sit at is fashioned of three immense
beech boards out of England. The minute widths of the year
have been refined in the...Read more of this...

Tea On The Lawn

by Robert William Service
 It was foretold by sybils three
that in an air crash he would die.
"I'll fool their prophesy," said he;
"You won't get me to go on high.
Howe're the need for haste and speed,
I'll never, never, never fly." 

It's true he traveled everywhere,
Afar and near, by land and sea,
Yet he would never go by air
And chance an evil destiny.
Always by ship or...Read more of this...

Wreck of the Schooner Samuel Crawford

by William Topaz McGonagall
 'Twas in the year of 1886, and on the 29th of November,
Which the surviving crew of the "Samuel Crawford" will long remember,
She was bound to Baltimore with a cargo of pine lumber;
But, alas! the crew suffered greatly from cold and hunger. 

'Twas on December 3rd when about ten miles south-west
Of Currituck light, and scudding at her best;
That a heavy...Read more of this...

The Return of Morgan and Fingal

by Edwin Arlington Robinson
 And there we were together again— 
Together again, we three: 
Morgan, Fingal, fiddle, and all, 
They had come for the night with me. 

The spirit of joy was in Morgan’s wrist,
There were songs in Fingal’s throat; 
And secure outside, for the spray to drench, 
Was a tossed and empty boat. 

And there were the pipes, and there was the...Read more of this...

Reunited

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
 Let us begin, dear love, where we left off; 
Tie up the broken threads of that old dream; 
And go on happy as before; and seem
Lovers again, though all the world may scoff.

Let us forget the graves, which lie between
Our parting and our meeting, and the tears
That rusted out the goldwork of the years; 
The frosts that fell upon...Read more of this...

A Soldier

by Robert Frost
 He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled,
That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust,
But still lies pointed as it ploughed the dust.
If we who sight along it round the world,
See nothing worthy to have been its mark,
It is because like men we look too near,
Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere,
Our missiles always make too short an...Read more of this...

Up At A Villa— Down In The City

by Robert Browning
 (As Distinguished by an Italian Person of Quality)

I

Had I but plenty of money, money enough and to spare,
The house for me, no doubt, were a house in the city-square;
Ah, such a life, such a life, as one leads at the window there!

II

Something to see, by Bacchus, something to hear, at least!
There, the whole day long, one's life is a...Read more of this...

Sisters

by Osip Mandelstam
 Sisters - Heaviness and Tenderness- you look the same.
Wasps and bees both suck the heavy rose.
Man dies, and the hot sand cools again.
Carried off on a black stretcher, yesterday’s sun goes.

Oh, honeycombs’ heaviness, nets’ tenderness,
it’s easier to lift a stone than to say your name!
I have one purpose left, a golden purpose,
how, from time’s weight, to free myself again.

I...Read more of this...

The Joy of Earth

by George William Russell
 OH, the sudden wings arising from the ploughed fields brown
 Showered aloft in spray of song the wild-bird twitter floats
O’er the unseen fount awhile, and then comes dropping down
 Nigh the cool brown earth to hush enraptured notes.


Far within a dome of trembling opal throbs the fire,
 Mistily its rain of diamond lances shed below
Touches eyes and brows and...Read more of this...

Amor Intellectualis

by Oscar Wilde
 Oft have we trod the vales of Castaly
And heard sweet notes of sylvan music blown
From antique reeds to common folk unknown:
And often launched our bark upon that sea
Which the nine Muses hold in empery,
And ploughed free furrows through the wave and foam,
Nor spread reluctant sail for more safe home
Till we had freighted well our argosy.
Of which despoiled treasures these...Read more of this...

Beast and Man in India

by Rudyard Kipling
 Written for John Lockwood Kipling's
They killed a Child to please the Gods
In Earth's young penitence,
And I have bled in that Babe's stead
Because of innocence.

I bear the sins of sinful men
That have no sin of my own,
They drive me forth to Heaven's wrath
Unpastured and alone.

I am the meat of sacrifice, 
The ransom of man's guilt,
For they give my life to...Read more of this...

On a Portrait of a Deaf Man

by John Betjeman
 The kind old face, the egg-shaped head,
The tie, discreetly loud,
The loosely fitting shooting clothes,
A closely fitting shroud.

He liked old city dining rooms,
Potatoes in their skin,
But now his mouth is wide to let
The London clay come in.

He took me on long silent walks
In country lanes when young.
He knew the names of ev'ry bird
But not the song it sung.

And when he...Read more of this...

The Native-Born

by Rudyard Kipling
 We've drunk to the Queen -- God bless her! --
 We've drunk to our mothers' land;
We've drunk to our English brother,
 (But he does not understand);
We've drunk to the wide creation,
 And the Cross swings low for the mom,
Last toast, and of Obligation,
 A health to the Native-born!

They change their skies above them,
 But not their hearts that roam!
We...Read more of this...

To Brenda Williams On Her Fiftieth Birthday

by Barry Tebb
 The years become you as Oxford becomes you,

As you became Oxford through the protest years;

From Magdalen’s grey gargoyles to its bridge in May,

From the cement buttresses of Wellington Square

To Balliol, Balliol in the rain.



The years become you as the Abbey Road becomes you,

As you became that road through silent years,

From the famous crossing to the stunted bridge

Caparisoned with carnivals...Read more of this...

The Grog-anGrumble Steeplechase

by Henry Lawson
 'Twixt the coastline and the border lay the town of Grog-an'-Grumble 
In the days before the bushman was a dull 'n' heartless drudge, 
An' they say the local meeting was a drunken rough-and-tumble, 
Which was ended pretty often by an inquest on the judge. 
An' 'tis said the city talent very often caught a tartar 
In the Grog-an'-Grumble sportsman,...Read more of this...

Scots of the Riverina

by Henry Lawson
 The boy cleared out to the city from his home at harvest time -- 
They were Scots of the Riverina, and to run from home was a crime. 
The old man burned his letters, the first and last he burned, 
And he scratched his name from the Bible when the old wife's back was turned. 

A year went past...Read more of this...

The Wind And The Sea

by Paul Laurence Dunbar
I stood by the shore at the death of day,
As the sun sank flaming red;
And the face of the waters that spread away
Was as gray as the face of the dead.
And I heard the cry of the wanton sea
And the moan of the wailing wind;
For love's sweet pain in his heart had he,
But the gray old sea had sinned.
The wind...Read more of this...

Bridge Over The Aire Book 3

by Barry Tebb
 THE KINGDOM OF MY HEART





1



The halcyon settled on the Aire of our days

Kingfisher-blue it broke my heart in two

Shall I forget you? Shall I forget you?



I am the mad poet first love

You never got over

You are my blue-eyed

Madonna virgin bride

I shall carve ‘MG loves BT’

On the bark of every 

Wind-bent tree in 

East End Park



2



The park itself will blossom

And...Read more of this...

The Dream

by Robert William Service
 Said Will: "I'll stay and till the land."
Said Jack: "I'll sail the sea."
So one went forth kit-bag in hand,
The other ploughed the lea. 

They met again at Christmas-tide,
And wistful were the two.
Said Jack: "you're lucky here to bide."
Said Will: "I envy you." 

"For in your eyes a light I see
Of tropic shores agleam."
Said Jack: "You need not envy me,
For...Read more of this...

Clancy Of The Mounted Police

by Robert William Service
 In the little Crimson Manual it's written plain and clear
That who would wear the scarlet coat shall say good-bye to fear;
Shall be a guardian of the right, a sleuth-hound of the trail--
In the little Crimson Manual there's no such word as "fail"--
Shall follow on though heavens fall, or hell's top-turrets freeze,
Half round the world, if need there be, on...Read more of this...

Grandad And A Pramload Of Clocks

by John Lindley
 Wheeling them in,
the yard gate at half-mast 
with its ticking hinge,
the tin bucket with a hairnet of webs,
the privy door ajar,
the path gloved with moss
ploughed by metal 
through a scalped tyre -
in the shadows of the hood,
in the ripped silk
of the rocking, buckled pram,
none of the dead clocks moving.

And carrying them in
to a kitchen table,
a near-lifetime’s Woodies
coating each cough,
he...Read more of this...

John Barleycorn

by Robert Burns
 There were three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high,
An' they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.

They took a plough and ploughed him down,
Put clods upon his head;
An' they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.

But the cheerfu' spring came kindly on,
And show'rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surprised them all.

The...Read more of this...

The Battle of Waterloo

by William Topaz McGonagall
 'Twas in the year 1815, and on the 18th day of June,
That British cannon, against the French army, loudly did boom,
Upon the ever memorable bloody field of Waterloo;
Which Napoleon remembered while in St. Helena, and bitterly did rue. 
The morning of the 18th was gloomy and cheerless to behold,
But the British soon recovered from the severe cold
That they had...Read more of this...

The Soldier

by Robert Frost
 He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled,
That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust,
But still lies pointed as it ploughed the dust.
If we who sight along it round the world,
See nothing worthy to have been its mark,
It is because like men we look too near,
Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere,
Our missiles always make too short an...Read more of this...

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