Famous Rank Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Centenarian's Story The

by Walt Whitman
 GIVE me your hand, old Revolutionary; 
The hill-top is nigh—but a few steps, (make room, gentlemen;) 
Up the path you have follow’d me well, spite of your hundred and extra years; 
You can walk, old man, though your eyes are almost done; 
Your faculties serve you, and presently I must have them serve me.

Rest, while I tell what the...Read more of this...

What Being in Rank-Old Nature

by Gerard Manley Hopkins
 What being in rank-old nature should earlier have that breath been
That h?re p?rsonal tells off these heart-song powerful peals?— 
A bush-browed, beetle-br?wed b?llow is it? 
With a so?th-w?sterly w?nd bl?stering, with a tide rolls reels 
Of crumbling, fore-foundering, thundering all-surfy seas in; seen
?nderneath, their glassy barrel, of a fairy green.
. . . . . . . . 
Or a...Read more of this...

1492

by Emma Lazarus
 Thou two-faced year, Mother of Change and Fate, 
Didst weep when Spain cast forth with flaming sword, 
The children of the prophets of the Lord, 
Prince, priest, and people, spurned by zealot hate. 
Hounded from sea to sea, from state to state, 
The West refused them, and the East abhorred. 
No anchorage the known world could afford, 
Close-locked was...Read more of this...

Follow Me ome

by Rudyard Kipling
 There was no one like 'im, 'Orse or Foot,
 Nor any o' the Guns I knew;
An' because it was so, why, o' course 'e went an' died,
 Which is just what the best men do.

So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me!
An' it's finish up your swipes an' follow me!
 Oh, 'ark to the big drum callin',
 Follow...Read more of this...

In a Wood

by Thomas Hardy
 Pale beech and pine-tree blue, 
Set in one clay, 
Bough to bough cannot you 
Bide out your day? 
When the rains skim and skip, 
Why mar sweet comradeship, 
Blighting with poison-drip 
Neighborly spray? 

Heart-halt and spirit-lame, 
City-opprest, 
Unto this wood I came 
As to a nest; 
Dreaming that sylvan peace 
Offered the harrowed ease— 
Nature a soft release 
From...Read more of this...

The Cow

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 Thank you, pretty cow, that made
Pleasant milk to soak my bread, 
Every day and every night, 
Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white. 

Do not chew the hemlock rank,
Growing on the weedy bank; 
But the yellow cowslips eat; 
They perhaps will make it sweet. 

Where the purple violet grows,
Where the bubbling water flows, 
Where the grass is fresh and...Read more of this...

Sonnet LXXXV

by William Shakespeare
 My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still,
While comments of your praise, richly compiled,
Reserve their character with golden quill
And precious phrase by all the Muses filed.
I think good thoughts whilst other write good words,
And like unletter'd clerk still cry 'Amen'
To every hymn that able spirit affords
In polish'd form of well-refined pen.
Hearing you praised, I say ''Tis so, 'tis true,'
And...Read more of this...

Father Rileys Horse

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 'Twas the horse thief, Andy Regan, that was hunted like a dog 
By the troopers of the upper Murray side, 
They had searched in every gully -- they had looked in every log, 
But never sight or track of him they spied, 
Till the priest at Kiley's Crossing heard a knocking very late 
And a whisper "Father Riley --...Read more of this...

129. The Calf

by Robert Burns
 RIGHT, sir! your text I’ll prove it true,
 Tho’ heretics may laugh;
For instance, there’s yourself just now,
 God knows, an unco calf.


And should some patron be so kind,
 As bless you wi’ a kirk,
I doubt na, sir but then we’ll find,
 Ye’re still as great a stirk.


But, if the lover’s raptur’d hour,
 Shall ever be your lot,
Forbid it, ev’ry...Read more of this...

The Pig

by Christopher Smart
 In ev'ry age, and each profession, 
Men err the most by prepossession; 
But when the thing is clearly shown, 
And fairly stated, fully known, 
We soon applaud what we deride, 
And penitence succeeds to pride.-- 
A certain Baron on a day 
Having a mind to show away, 
Invited all the wits and wags, 
Foot, Massey, Shuter, Yates, and Skeggs,...Read more of this...

Sonnet 121: Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed

by William Shakespeare
 'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed
When not to be receives reproach of being,
And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed
Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing.
For why should others' false adulterate eyes
Give salutation to my sportive blood?
Or on my frailties why are frailer spies,
Which in their wills count bad what I think good?
No, I am...Read more of this...

Laughter

by Robert William Service
I Laugh at Life: its antics make for me a giddy games, 
Where only foolish fellows take themselves with solemn aim. 
I laugh at pomp and vanity, at riches, rank and pride; 
At social inanity, at swager, swank and side. 
At poets, pastry-cooks and kings, at folk sublime and small, 
Who fuss about a thousand things that matter not at...Read more of this...

155. Epistle to Mrs. Scott of Wauchope House

by Robert Burns
 GUDEWIFE,I MIND it weel in early date,
When I was bardless, young, and blate,
 An’ first could thresh the barn,
Or haud a yokin’ at the pleugh;
An, tho’ forfoughten sair eneugh,
 Yet unco proud to learn:
When first amang the yellow corn
 A man I reckon’d was,
An’ wi’ the lave ilk merry morn
 Could rank my rig and lass,
 Still shearing, and...Read more of this...

The Bear

by Galway Kinnell
1
In late winter 
I sometimes glimpse bits of steam
coming up from
some fault in the old snow 
and bend close and see it is lung-colored 
and put down my nose
and know
the chilly, enduring odor of bear. 

2
I take a wolf's rib and whittle
it sharp at both ends
and coil it up
and freeze it in blubber and place it out
on the fairway of...Read more of this...

Faun

by Sylvia Plath
 Haunched like a faun, he hooed
From grove of moon-glint and fen-frost
Until all owls in the twigged forest
Flapped black to look and brood
On the call this man made.

No sound but a drunken coot
Lurching home along river bank.
Stars hung water-sunk, so a rank
Of double star-eyes lit
Boughs where those owls sat.

An arena of yellow eyes
Watched the changing shape he cut,
Saw hoof harden...Read more of this...

To A Louse

by Robert Burns
 ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY'S BONNET AT CHURCH

Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie!
Your impudence protects you sairly:
I canna say but ye strunt rarely
Owre gauze and lace;
Tho' faith, I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.

Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,
Detested, shunned by saunt an' sinner,
How daur ye set your fit upon her,
Sae fine a lady!
Gae somewhere else...Read more of this...

The Roll Of The De Silva Race

by Victor Hugo
 ("Celui-ci, des Silvas, c'est l'aîné.") 
 
 {HERNANI, Act III.} 


 In that reverend face 
 Behold the father of De Silva's race, 
 Silvius; in Rome he filled the consul's place 
 Three times (your patience for such honored names). 
 This second was Grand Master of St. James 
 And Calatrava; his strong limbs sustained 
 Armor...Read more of this...

The Last Words Of My English Grandmother

by William Carlos (WCW) Williams
 There were some dirty plates
and a glass of milk
beside her on a small table
near the rank, disheveled bed—

Wrinkled and nearly blind
she lay and snored
rousing with anger in her tones
to cry for food,

Gimme something to eat—
They're starving me—
I'm all right I won't go
to the hospital. No, no, no

Give me something to eat
Let me take you
to the hospital, I said
and after...Read more of this...

The Degenerate Gallants

by Victor Hugo
 ("Mes jeunes cavaliers.") 
 
 {HERNANI, Act I., March, 1830.} 


 What business brings you here, young cavaliers? 
 Men like the Cid, the knights of bygone years, 
 Rode out the battle of the weak to wage, 
 Protecting beauty and revering age. 
 Their armor sat on them, strong men as true, 
 Much lighter than your...Read more of this...

A Retrospect Of Humidity

by Les Murray
 All the air conditioners now slacken
their hummed carrier wave. Once again
we've served our three months with remissions
in the steam and dry iron of this seaboard.
In jellied glare, through the nettle-rash season
we've watched the sky's fermenting laundry
portend downpours. Some came, and steamed away,
and we were clutched back into the rancid
saline midnights of orifice weather,
to damp grittiness and wiping off the...Read more of this...

The Traveller And The Farm~maiden

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 HE.

CANST thou give, oh fair and matchless maiden,

'Neath the shadow of the lindens yonder,--

Where I'd fain one moment cease to wander,--
Food and drink to one so heavy laden?

SHE.

Wouldst thou find refreshment, traveller weary,

Bread, ripe fruit and cream to meet thy wishes,--

None but Nature's plain and homely dishes,--
Near the spring may soothe thy wanderings dreary.

HE.

Dreams of old acquaintance now pass...Read more of this...

I Now O Friend Whom Noiselessly The Snows

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 I NOW, O friend, whom noiselessly the snows
Settle around, and whose small chamber grows
Dusk as the sloping window takes its load:

* * * * *

The kindly hill, as to complete our hap,
Has ta'en us in the shelter of her lap;
Well sheltered in our slender grove of trees
And ring of walls, we sit between her knees;
A disused quarry, paved with...Read more of this...

To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew

by John Dryden
 Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies,
 Made in the last promotion of the Blest;
Whose palms, new pluck'd from Paradise,
In spreading branches more sublimely rise,
Rich with immortal green above the rest:
Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star,
Thou roll'st above us, in thy wand'ring race,
 Or, in procession fix'd and regular,
 Mov'd with the Heavens' majestic pace:
 Or, call'd to more superior...Read more of this...

To Canaris, The Greek Patriot

by Victor Hugo
 ("Canaris! nous t'avons oublié.") 
 
 {VIII., October, 1832.} 


 O Canaris! O Canaris! the poet's song 
 Has blameful left untold thy deeds too long! 
 But when the tragic actor's part is done, 
 When clamor ceases, and the fights are won, 
 When heroes realize what Fate decreed, 
 When chieftains mark no more which thousands...Read more of this...

Im ceded -- Ive stopped being Theirs --

by Emily Dickinson
 I'm ceded -- I've stopped being Theirs --
The name They dropped upon my face
With water, in the country church
Is finished using, now,
And They can put it with my Dolls,
My childhood, and the string of spools,
I've finished threading -- too --

Baptized, before, without the choice,
But this time, consciously, of Grace --
Unto supremest name --
Called to my Full -- The Crescent...Read more of this...

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