Famous Ransom Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Psalm 103 part 1

by Isaac Watts
 v.1-7 
L. M.
Blessing God for his goodness to soul and body.

Bless, O my soul, the living God,
Call home thy thoughts that rove abroad;
Let all the powers within me join
In work and worship so divine.

Bless, O my soul, the God of grace;
His favors claim thy highest praise:
Why should the wonders he hath wrought
Be lost in silence and forgot?

'Tis he, my...Read more of this...

Painted Head

by John Crowe Ransom
 By dark severance the apparition head 
Smiles from the air a capital on no 
Column or a Platonic perhaps head 
On a canvas sky depending from nothing; 

Stirs up an old illusion of grandeur 
By tickling the instinct of heads to be 
Absolute and to try decapitation 
And to play truant from the body bush; 

But too happy and...Read more of this...

Sonnet XXXIV

by William Shakespeare
 Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?
'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,
To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
For no man well of such a salve can speak
That heals the wound and cures not...Read more of this...

The Siege and Conquest of Alhama

by George (Lord) Byron
 The Moorish King rides up and down,
Through Granada's royal town;
From Elvira's gate to those
Of Bivarambla on he goes.
Woe is me, Alhama!

Letters to the monarch tell 
How Alhama's city fell: 
In the fire the scroll he threw, 
And the messenger he slew.
Woe is me, Albamal

He quits his mule, and mounts his horse, 
And through the street directs his course; 
Through...Read more of this...

Sonnet CXX

by William Shakespeare
 That you were once unkind befriends me now,
And for that sorrow which I then did feel
Needs must I under my transgression bow,
Unless my nerves were brass or hammer'd steel.
For if you were by my unkindness shaken
As I by yours, you've pass'd a hell of time,
And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken
To weigh how once I suffered in your...Read more of this...

Siege and Conquest of Alhama The

by George (Lord) Byron
 The Moorish King rides up and down,
Through Granada's royal town;
From Elvira's gate to those
Of Bivarambla on he goes.
Woe is me, Alhama!

Letters to the monarch tell 
How Alhama's city fell: 
In the fire the scroll he threw, 
And the messenger he slew.
Woe is me, Albamal

He quits his mule, and mounts his horse, 
And through the street directs his course; 
Through...Read more of this...

Winter Remembered

by John Crowe Ransom
 Two evils, monstrous either one apart,
Possessed me, and were long and loath at going:
A cry of Absence, Absence, in the heart,
And in the wood the furious winter blowing.

Think not, when fire was bright upon my bricks,
And past the tight boards hardly a wind could enter,
I glowed like them, the simple burning sticks,
Far from my cause, my proper heat and...Read more of this...

The Battle Of Agincourt

by Michael Drayton
 Fair stood the wind for France
When we our sails advance,
Nor now to prove our chance
Longer will tarry;
But putting to the main,
At Caux, the mouth of Seine,
With all his martial train,
Landed King Harry.

And taking many a fort,
Furnished in warlike sort,
Marcheth towards Agincourt
In happy hour;
Skirmishing day by day
With those that stopped his way,
Where the French gen'ral lay
With all his power;

Which, in...Read more of this...

Sonnet 120: That you were once unkind befriends me now

by William Shakespeare
 That you were once unkind befriends me now,
And for that sorrow, which I then did feel,
Needs must I under my transgression bow,
Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel.
For if you were by my unkindness shaken
As I by yours, y'have passed a hell of time,
And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken
To weigh how once I suffered in your...Read more of this...

Colloquy in Black Rock

by Robert Lowell
Here the jack-hammer jabs into the ocean;
My heart, you race and stagger and demand
More blood-gangs for your ******-brass percussions,
Till I, the stunned machine of your devotion,
Clanging upon this cymbal of a hand,
Am rattled screw and footloose. All discussions

End in the mud-flat detritus of death.
My heart, beat faster, faster. In Black Mud
Hungarian workmen give their blood
For the martyrs Stephen who was...Read more of this...

Dead Boy

by John Crowe Ransom
 The little cousin is dead, by foul subtraction,
A green bough from Virginia's aged tree,
And none of the county kin like the transaction,
Nor some of the world of outer dark, like me.

A boy not beautiful, nor good, nor clever,
A black cloud full of storms too hot for keeping,
A sword beneath his mother's heart—yet never
Woman bewept her babe as this is...Read more of this...

Bells For John Whitesides Daughter

by John Crowe Ransom
 There was such speed in her little body, 
And such lightness in her footfall, 
It is no wonder her brown study Astonishes us all 

Her wars were bruited in our high window. 
We looked among orchard trees and beyond 
Where she took arms against her shadow, 
Or harried unto the pond 

The lazy geese, like a snow cloud 
Dripping...Read more of this...

Silence is all we dread

by Emily Dickinson
 Silence is all we dread.
There's Ransom in a Voice --
But Silence is Infinity.
Himself have not a face....Read more of this...

Conrad in Twilight

by John Crowe Ransom
 Conrad, Conrad, aren't you old 
To sit so late in your mouldy garden? 
And I think Conrad knows it well, 
Nursing his knees, too rheumy and cold 
To warm the wraith of a Forest of Arden. 

Neuralgia in the back of his neck, 
His lungs filling with such miasma, 
His feet dipping in leafage and muck: 
Conrad! you've forgotten...Read more of this...

Piazza Piece

by John Crowe Ransom
 -- I am a gentleman in a dustcoat trying
To make you hear. Your ears are soft and small
And listen to an old man not at all,
They want the young men's whispering and sighing.
But see the roses on your trellis dying
And hear the spectral singing of the moon;
For I must have my lovely lady soon,
I am a gentleman in a...Read more of this...

Hymn 142

by Isaac Watts
 The humiliation and exaltation of Christ.

Isa. 53:6-9,12. 

Like sheep we went astray,
And broke the fold of God,
Each wand'ring in a diff'rent way,
But all the downward road.

How dreadful was the hour
When God our wand'rings laid,
And did at once his vengeance pour,
Upon the Shepherd's head!

How glorious was the grace
When Christ sustained the stroke
His life and blood the Shepherd pays
A ransom for...Read more of this...

Prelude to an Evening

by John Crowe Ransom
 Do not enforce the tired wolf
Dragging his infected wound homeward
To sit tonight with the warm children
Naming the pretty kings of France.

The images of the invaded mind
Being as the monsters in the dreams
Of your most brief enchanted headful,
Suppose a miracle of confusion:

That dreamed and undreamt become each other
And mix the night and day of your mind;
And it does not matter...Read more of this...

The Equilibrists

by John Crowe Ransom
 Full of her long white arms and milky skin 
He had a thousand times remembered sin. 
Alone in the press of people traveled he, 
Minding her jacinth, and myrrh, and ivory. 

Mouth he remembered: the quaint orifice 
From which came heat that flamed upon the kiss, 
Till cold words came down spiral from the head. 
Grey doves from the...Read more of this...

Captain Carpenter

by John Crowe Ransom
 Captain Carpenter rose up in his prime 
Put on his pistols and went riding out 
But had got wellnigh nowhere at that time 
Till he fell in with ladies in a rout. 

It was a pretty lady and all her train 
That played with him so sweetly but before 
An hour she'd taken a sword with all her main...Read more of this...

Hymn 17

by Isaac Watts
 Victory over death.

1 Cor. 15:55ff 

O for an overcoming faith
To cheer my dying hours;
To triumph o'er the monster Death,
And all his frightful powers!

Joyful with all the strength I have
My quiv'ring lips should sing-
Where is thy boasted vict'ry, Grave?
And where the monster's sting?

If sin be pardoned, I'm secure,
Death hath no sting beside;
The law gives sin its damning power;
But Christ, my...Read more of this...

Blue Girls

by John Crowe Ransom
 Twirling your blue skirts, travelling the sward 
Under the towers of your seminary, 
Go listen to your teachers old and contrary 
Without believing a word. 

Tie the white fillets then about your hair 
And think no more of what will come to pass 
Than bluebirds that go walking on the grass 
And chattering on the air. 

Practice your beauty,...Read more of this...

Necrological

by John Crowe Ransom
 The friar had said his paternosters duly 
And scourged his limbs, and afterwards would have slept; 
But with much riddling his head became unruly, 
He arose, from the quiet monastery he crept. 

Dawn lightened the place where the battle had been won. 
The people were dead -- it is easy he thought to die -- 
These dead remained, but...Read more of this...

Ode to the Cambro-Britons and their Harp His Ballad of Agi

by Michael Drayton
 Fair stood the wind for France,
When we our sails advance;
Nor now to prove our chance
Longer will tarry;
But putting to the main,
At Caux, the mouth of Seine,
With all his martial train
Landed King Harry.

And taking many a fort,
Furnish'd in warlike sort,
Marcheth towards Agincourt
In happy hour;
Skirmishing day by day
With those that stopp'd his way,
Where the French gen'ral lay
With all his power.

Which, in...Read more of this...

One Viceroy Resigns

by Rudyard Kipling
 So here's your Empire. No more wine, then?
Good.
We'll clear the Aides and khitmatgars away.
(You'll know that fat old fellow with the knife --
He keeps the Name Book, talks in English too,
And almost thinks himself the Government.)
O Youth, Youth, Youth! Forgive me, you're so young.
Forty from sixty -- twenty years of work
And power to back the working. Ay def mi!
You...Read more of this...

Mother and Poet

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
 I.

Dead ! One of them shot by the sea in the east,
And one of them shot in the west by the sea.
Dead ! both my boys ! When you sit at the feast
And are wanting a great song for Italy free,
Let none look at me !

II.
Yet I was a poetess only last year,
And good at my art, for a...Read more of this...

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