Famous Scalps Poems by Famous Poets

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

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The Swiss Mercenaries

by Victor Hugo
 ("Lorsque le regiment des hallebardiers.") 
 
 {Bk. XXXI.} 


 When the regiment of Halberdiers 
 Is proudly marching by, 
 The eagle of the mountain screams 
 From out his stormy sky; 
 Who speaketh to the precipice, 
 And to the chasm sheer; 
 Who hovers o'er the thrones of kings, 
 And bids the caitiffs fear....Read more of this...

He fumbles at your Soul

by Emily Dickinson
 He fumbles at your Soul
As Players at the Keys
Before they drop full Music on --
He stuns you by degrees --
Prepares your brittle Nature
For the Ethereal Blow
By fainter Hammers -- further heard --
Then nearer -- Then so slow
Your Breath has time to straighten --
Your Brain -- to bubble Cool --
Deals -- One -- imperial -- Thunderbolt --
That scalps your naked...Read more of this...

He fumbles at your spirit

by Emily Dickinson
He fumbles at your spirit
   As players at the keys
Before they drop full music on;
   He stuns you by degrees,

Prepares your brittle substance
   For the ethereal blow,
By fainter hammers, further heard,
   Then nearer, then so slow

Your breath has time to straighten,
   Your brain to bubble cool, --
Deals one imperial thunderbolt
...Read more of this...

The Giant In Glee

by Victor Hugo
 ("Ho, guerriers! je suis né dans le pays des Gaules.") 
 
 {V., March 11, 1825.} 


 Ho, warriors! I was reared in the land of the Gauls; 
 O'er the Rhine my ancestors came bounding like balls 
 Of the snow at the Pole, where, a babe, I was bathed 
 Ere in bear and in walrus-skin I...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...

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...

A Farewell to Agassiz

by Oliver Wendell Holmes
 How the mountains talked together,
Looking down upon the weather,
When they heard our friend had planned his
Little trip among the Andes
How they'll bare their snowy scalps
To the climber of the Alps
When the cry goes through their passes,
"Here comes the great Agassiz!"
"Yes, I'm tall," says Chimborazo,
"But I wait for him to say so,--
That's the only thing that lacks,-- he
Must see me,...Read more of this...

Nature -- sometimes sears a Sapling

by Emily Dickinson
 Nature -- sometimes sears a Sapling --
Sometimes -- scalps a Tree --
Her Green People recollect it
When they do not die --

Fainter Leaves -- to Further Seasons --
Dumbly testify --
We -- who have the Souls --
Die oftener -- Not so vitally --...Read more of this...

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, 
Furnish'd in warlike sort, 
Marcheth tow'rds Agincourt 
In happy hour; 
Skirmishing day by day 
With...Read more of this...

Tell

by Paul Muldoon
 He opens the scullery door, and a sudden rush
of wind, as raw as raw,
brushes past him as he himself will brush
past the stacks of straw

that stood in earlier for Crow
or Comanche tepees hung with scalps
but tonight past muster, row upon row,
for the foothills of the Alps.

He opens the door of the peeling-shed
just as one of the apple-peelers
(one of almost...Read more of this...

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