Famous Rest Poems by Famous Poets
These are examples of famous Rest poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous rest poems. These examples illustrate what a famous rest poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).
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by
George William Russell
ON me to rest, my bird, my bird:
The swaying branches of my heart
Are blown by every wind toward
The home whereto their wings depart.
Build not your nest, my bird, on me;
I know no peace but ever sway:
O lovely bird, be free, be free,
On the wild music of the day.
But sometimes when your wings would rest,
And...Read more of this...
by
Michael Drayton
Dear, why should you command me to my rest
When now the night doth summon all to sleep?
Methinks this time becometh lovers best;
Night was ordain'd together friends to keep.
How happy are all other living things
Which, though the day disjoin by sev'ral flight,
The quiet ev'ning yet together brings,
And each returns unto his love at night!
O thou that art so courteous else...Read more of this...
by
Claude McKay
No more for you the city's thorny ways,
The ugly corners of the ***** belt;
The miseries and pains of these harsh days
By you will never, never again be felt.
No more, if still you wander, will you meet
With nights of unabating bitterness;
They cannot reach you in your safe retreat,
The city's hate, the city's prejudice!...Read more of this...
by
Lucy Maud Montgomery
Come, rest awhile, and let us idly stray
In glimmering valleys, cool and far away.
Come from the greedy mart, the troubled street,
And listen to the music, faint and sweet,
That echoes ever to a listening ear,
Unheard by those who will not pause to hear
The wayward chimes of memory's pensive bells,
Wind-blown o'er misty hills and...Read more of this...
by
Rg Gregory
professor piebald
(the oldest man in the home) was meek
at the same time ribald
he clothed his matter (so to speak)
in latin and (was it) greek
it caused no great offence
to nobody did it make sense
to make a rude joke
in languages nobody spoke
once he'd changed the word agenda
at a home's committee meeting to pudenda
this sort of thing was tolerated by the other
inmates...Read more of this...
by
Omar Khayyam
Do you wish life to rest upon a rock? Do you wish
life for some time free to be from grief? Dwell for one
instant without drinking wine, then at each breath you'll
find a new attraction in existence....Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
Some Days retired from the rest
In soft distinction lie
The Day that a Companion came
Or was obliged to die...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
One Blessing had I than the rest
So larger to my Eyes
That I stopped gauging -- satisfied --
For this enchanted size --
It was the limit of my Dream --
The focus of my Prayer --
A perfect -- paralyzing Bliss --
Contented as Despair --
I knew no more of Want -- or Cold --
Phantasms both become
For this new Value in the Soul --
Supremest...Read more of this...
by
Andrew Barton Paterson
We buried old Bob where the bloodwoods wave
At the foot of the Eaglehawk;
We fashioned a cross on the old man's grave
For fear that his ghost might walk;
We carved his name on a bloodwood tree
With the date of his sad decease
And in place of "Died from effects of spree"
We wrote "May he rest...Read more of this...
by
Margaret Atwood
The rest of us watch from beyond the fence
as the woman moves with her jagged stride
into her pain as if into a slow race.
We see her body in motion
but hear no sounds, or we hear
sounds but no language; or we know
it is not a language we know
yet. We can see her clearly
but for her it is running in black...Read more of this...
by
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
My thoughts soar not as they ought to soar,
Higher and higher on soul-lent wings;
But ever and often and more and more
They are dragged down earthward by little things,
By little troubles and little needs,
As a lark might be tangled among the weeds.
My purpose is not what it ought to be,
Steady and fixed, like a...Read more of this...
by
Sir Walter Scott
Where shall the lover rest
Whom the fates sever
From the true maiden's breast,
Parted for ever?--
Where, through groves deep and high,
Sounds the fair billow,
Where early violets die,
Under the willow.
Chorus.
Soft shall be his pillow.
There, through the summer day,
Cool streams are laving;
There, while the tempests sway,
Scarce are boughs waving;
There, thy rest shall...Read more of this...
by
Omar Khayyam
When life has fled, and we rest in the tomb,
They'll place a pair of bricks to mark our tomb;
And, a while after, mould our dust to bricks,
To furnish forth some other person's tomb!...Read more of this...
by
Helen Hunt Jackson
Unto one who lies at rest
'Neath the sunset, in the West,
Clover-blossoms on her breast.
Lover of each gracious thing
Which makes glad the summer-tide,
From the daisies clustering
And the violets purple-eyed,
To those shy and hidden blooms
Which in forest coverts stay,
Sending wandering perfumes
Out as guide to show the way,
All she knew, to...Read more of this...
by
Omar Khayyam
Ah! would there were a place of rest from pain,
Which we, poor pilgrims, might at last attain,
And after many thousand wintry years,
Renew our life, like flowers, and bloom again!...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
Rest at Night
The Sun from shining,
Nature -- and some Men --
Rest at Noon -- some Men --
While Nature
And the Sun -- go on --...Read more of this...
by
Thomas Moore
Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer,
Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here;
Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast,
And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last.
Oh! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same
Through joy and through torment,...Read more of this...
by
Matthew Arnold
'Not by the justice that my father spurn'd,
Not for the thousands whom my father slew,
Altars unfed and temples overturn'd,
Cold hearts and thankless tongues, where thanks are due;
Fell this dread voice from lips that cannot lie,
Stern sentence of the Powers of Destiny.
'I will unfold my sentence and my crime.
My crime--that, rapt in reverential awe,
I sate obedient, in the fiery prime
Of...Read more of this...
by
Christina Rossetti
O EARTH, lie heavily upon her eyes;
Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth;
Lie close around her; leave no room for mirth
With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.
She hath no questions, she hath no replies,
Hush'd in and curtain'd with a blessed dearth
Of all that irk'd her from...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
Quite empty, quite at rest,
The Robin locks her Nest, and tries her Wings.
She does not know a Route
But puts her Craft about
For rumored Springs --
She does not ask for Noon --
She does not ask for Boon,
Crumbless and homeless, of but one request --
The Birds she lost --...Read more of this...
by
Robert William Service
By parents I would not be pinned,
Nor in my home abide,
For I was wanton as the wind
And tameless as the tide;
So scornful of domestic hearth,
And bordered garden path,
I sought the wilder ways of earth,
The roads of wrath.
It scares me now to think of how
Foolhardily I fared;
Though mighty scarred of pelt and pow
A dozen...Read more of this...
by
Amy Lowell
How still it is! Sunshine itself here
falls
In quiet shafts of light through the high trees
Which, arching, make a roof above the walls
Changing from sun to shadow as each breeze
Lingers a moment, charmed by the strange sight
Of an Italian theatre, storied, seer
Of vague romance, and time's long history;
Where tiers of grass-grown seats sprinkled with white,
Sweet-scented clover, form a broken...Read more of this...
by
George William Russell
UNTO the deep the deep heart goes,
It lays its sadness nigh the breast:
Only the Mighty Mother knows
The wounds that quiver unconfessed.
It seeks a deeper silence still;
It folds itself around with peace,
Where thoughts alike of good or ill
In quietness unfostered cease.
It feels in the unwounding vast
For comfort for its hopes and fears:
The Mighty Mother bows at last;
She listens to her...Read more of this...
by
Henry Lawson
The rafters are open to sun, moon, and star,
Thistles and nettles grow high in the bar --
The chimneys are crumbling, the log fires are dead,
And green mosses spring from the hearthstone instead.
The voices are silent, the bustle and din,
For the railroad hath ruined the Cherry-tree Inn.
Save the glimmer of stars, or the moon's...Read more of this...
by
Omar Khayyam
We rest our hopes on Thy free grace alone,
Nor seek by merits for our sins to atone;
Mercy drops where it lists, and estimates
Ill done as undone, good undone as done....Read more of this...
Dont forget to view our wonderful member Rest poems.