Famous Purse Poems by Famous Poets

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

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The Rhyme Of The Remittance Man

by Robert William Service
 There's a four-pronged buck a-swinging in the shadow of my cabin,
 And it roamed the velvet valley till to-day;
But I tracked it by the river, and I trailed it in the cover,
 And I killed it on the mountain miles away.
Now I've had my lazy supper, and the level sun is gleaming
 On the water where the silver salmon...Read more of this...

Massachusetts To Virginia

by John Greenleaf Whittier
 The blast from Freedom's Northern hills, upon its Southern way,
Bears greeting to Virginia from Massachusetts Bay:
No word of haughty challenging, nor battle bugle's peal,
Nor steady tread of marching files, nor clang of horsemen's steel,

No trains of deep-mouthed cannon along our highways go;
Around our silent arsenals untrodden lies the snow;
And to the land-breeze of our ports, upon their errands far,
A...Read more of this...

Five Bells

by Kenneth Slessor
 Time that is moved by little fidget wheels 
Is not my time, the flood that does not flow. 
Between the double and the single bell 
Of a ship's hour, between a round of bells 
From the dark warship riding there below, 
I have lived many lives, and this one life 
Of Joe, long dead, who lives between five bells....Read more of this...

Ode To William H. Channing

by Ralph Waldo Emerson
 Though loth to grieve
The evil time's sole patriot,
I cannot leave
My buried thought
For the priest's cant,
Or statesman's rant.

If I refuse
My study for their politique,
Which at the best is trick,
The angry muse
Puts confusion in my brain.

But who is he that prates
Of the culture of mankind,
Of better arts and life?
Go, blind worm, go,
Behold the famous States
Harrying Mexico
With rifle and with knife.

Or who,...Read more of this...

518. Ballad on Mr. Heron's Election—No. 1

by Robert Burns
 WHOM will you send to London town,
 To Parliament and a’ that?
Or wha in a’ the country round
 The best deserves to fa’ that?
 For a’ that, and a’ that,
 Thro’ Galloway and a’ that,
 Where is the Laird or belted Knight
 The best deserves to fa’ that?


Wha sees Kerroughtree’s open yett,
 (And wha is’t never saw that?)
Wha ever...Read more of this...

The Song Of The Soldier-Born

by Robert William Service
 Give me the scorn of the stars and a peak defiant;
Wail of the pines and a wind with the shout of a giant;
Night and a trail unknown and a heart reliant.

Give me to live and love in the old, bold fashion;
A soldier's billet at night and a soldier's ration;
A heart that leaps to the fight with a soldier's passion.

For...Read more of this...

The Man From Eldorado

by Robert William Service
 He's the man from Eldorado, and he's just arrived in town,
 In moccasins and oily buckskin shirt.
He's gaunt as any Indian, and pretty nigh as brown;
 He's greasy, and he smells of sweat and dirt.
He sports a crop of whiskers that would shame a healthy hog;
 Hard work has racked his joints and stooped his back;
He slops along the...Read more of this...

Gold breeds not wit, but to wit lacking bread

by Omar Khayyam
Gold breeds not wit, but to wit lacking bread
Earth's flowery carpet seems a dungeon bed;
'Tis his full purse that makes the rose to smile,
While empty-handed violets hang the head....Read more of this...

Oh Oh You Will Be Sorry

by Edna St. Vincent Millay
 Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that word!
Give me back my book and take my kiss instead.
Was it my enemy or my friend I heard,
"What a big book for such a little head!"
Come, I will show you now my newest hat,
And you may watch me purse my mouth and prink!
Oh, I shall love you still, and all of...Read more of this...

Letter Home

by Natasha Trethewey
 --New Orleans, November 1910

Four weeks have passed since I left, and still
I must write to you of no work. I've worn down
the soles and walked through the tightness
of my new shoes calling upon the merchants,
their offices bustling. All the while I kept thinking
my plain English and good writing would secure
for me some modest position Though I dress each day
in...Read more of this...

The Purse-Seine

by Robinson Jeffers
 Our sardine fishermen work at night in the dark
 of the moon; daylight or moonlight
They could not tell where to spread the net, 
 unable to see the phosphorescence of the 
 shoals of fish.
They work northward from Monterey, coasting 
 Santa Cruz; off New Year's Point or off 
 Pigeon Point
The look-out man will see some lakes of...Read more of this...

Black Bonnet

by Henry Lawson
 A day of seeming innocence, 
A glorious sun and sky, 
And, just above my picket fence, 
Black Bonnet passing by. 
In knitted gloves and quaint old dress, 
Without a spot or smirch, 
Her worn face lit with peacefulness, 
Old Granny goes to church. 

Her hair is richly white, like milk, 
That long ago was fair -- 
And glossy still...Read more of this...

The Thousandth Man

by Rudyard Kipling
 One man in a thousand, Solomon says,
Will stick more close than a brother.
And it's worth while seeking him half your days
If you find him before the other.
Nine nundred and ninety-nine depend
On what the world sees in you,
But the Thousandth man will stand your friend
With the whole round world agin you.

'Tis neither promise nor prayer nor show
Will settle the finding...Read more of this...

Dialogue Between a Sovereign and a One-Pound Note

by Thomas Moore
 Said a Sov'reign to a Note,
In the pocket of my coat,
Where they met in a neat purse of leather,
"How happens it, I prithee,
That though I'm wedded with thee,
Fair Pound, we can never live together?

Like your sex, fond of change,
With silver you can range,
And of lots of young sixpences be mother;
While with me -- upon my word
Not my Lady and...Read more of this...

A Purse-String

by William Strode
 We hugg, imprison, hang, and save,
This foe, this friend, our Lord, our slave.


While thus I hang, you threatned see
The fate of him that stealeth mee....Read more of this...

403. The Soldier's Return: A Ballad

by Robert Burns
 WHEN wild war’s deadly blast was blawn,
 And gentle peace returning,
Wi’ mony a sweet babe fatherless,
 And mony a widow mourning;
I left the lines and tented field,
 Where lang I’d been a lodger,
My humble knapsack a’ my wealth,
 A poor and honest sodger.


A leal, light heart was in my breast,
 My hand unstain’d wi’ plunder;
And for fair Scotia hame...Read more of this...

On No Work Of Words

by Dylan Thomas
 On no work of words now for three lean months in the
 bloody
Belly of the rich year and the big purse of my body
I bitterly take to task my poverty and craft:

To take to give is all, return what is hungrily given
Puffing the pounds of manna up through the dew to heaven,
The lovely gift of the gab bangs back...Read more of this...

Lucille

by Robert William Service
 Of course you've heard of the Nancy Lee, and how she sailed away
On her famous quest of the Arctic flea, to the wilds of Hudson's Bay?
For it was a foreign Prince's whim to collect this tiny cuss,
And a golden quid was no more to him than a copper to coves like us.
So we sailed away and our hearts were...Read more of this...

Of Brussels -- it was not --

by Emily Dickinson
 Of Brussels -- it was not --
Of Kidderminster? Nay --
The Winds did buy it of the Woods --
They -- sold it unto me

It was a gentle price --
The poorest -- could afford --
It was within the frugal purse
Of Beggar -- or of Bird --

Of small and spicy Yards --
In hue -- a mellow Dun --
Of Sunshine -- and of...Read more of this...

Holy-Cross Day

by Robert Browning
 ON WHICH THE JEWS WERE FORCED TO
ATTEND AN ANNUAL CHRISTIAN SERMON
IN ROME.

[``Now was come about Holy-Cross Day,
and now must my lord preach his first sermon
to the Jews: as it was of old cared for in tine
merciful bowels of the Church, that, so to
speak, a crumb at least from her conspicuous
table here in Rome should be, though but
once yearly, cast...Read more of this...

Damon The Mower

by Andrew Marvell
 Heark how the Mower Damon Sung,
With love of Juliana stung!
While ev'ry thing did seem to paint
The Scene more fit for his complaint.
Like her fair Eyes the day was fair;
But scorching like his am'rous Care.
Sharp like his Sythe his Sorrow was,
And wither'd like his Hopes the Grass.

Oh what unusual Heats are here,
Which thus our Sun-burn'd Meadows sear!
The Grass-hopper its pipe...Read more of this...

The Grauballe Man

by Seamus Heaney
 As if he had been poured
in tar, he lies
on a pillow of turf
and seems to weep

the black river of himself.
The grain of his wrists
is like bog oak,
the ball of his heel

like a basalt egg.
His instep has shrunk
cold as a swan’s foot
or a wet swamp root.

His hips are the ridge
and purse of a mussel,
his spine an eel arrested
under a glisten...Read more of this...

The Jubilee Sovreign

by Marriott Edgar
 On Jubilee Day the Ramsbottoms
Invited relations to tea, 
Including young Albert's grandmother- 
An awkward old . . party, was she. 

She'd seen Queen Victoria's accession
And `er wedding to Albert (the Good) 
But she got quite upset when young Albert 
Asked `er `ow she'd got on in the Flood.

She cast quite a damper on't party, 
But she warmed up a...Read more of this...

Hornworm: Autumn Lamentation

by Stanley Kunitz
 Since that first morning when I crawled
into the world, a naked grubby thing,
and found the world unkind,
my dearest faith has been that this
is but a trial: I shall be changed.
In my imaginings I have already spent
my brooding winter underground,
unfolded silky powdered wings, and climbed
into the air, free as a puff of cloud
to sail over the steaming fields,
alighting anywhere I...Read more of this...

The Song Of The Wage-Slave

by Robert William Service
 When the long, long day is over, and the Big Boss gives me my pay,
I hope that it won't be hell-fire, as some of the parsons say.
And I hope that it won't be heaven, with some of the parsons I've met --
All I want is just quiet, just to rest and forget.
Look at my face, toil-furrowed; look at my...Read more of this...

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