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Famous Scour Poems by Famous Poets

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

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by Thomas, Dylan
...es at Christmas. The same Uncles. And on Christmas morning, with dog-disturbing whistle
and sugar fags, I would scour the swatched town for the news of the little world, and find always a dead bird
by the Post Office or by the white deserted swings; perhaps a robin, all but one of his fires out. Men and
women wading or scooping back from chapel, with taproom noses and wind-bussed cheeks, all albinos, huddles
their stiff black jarring feathers against the irreligio...Read more of this...



by Sexton, Anne
...er safe.
He fastened the moon up
with a safety pin
to give her perpetual light
He forced every male in the court
to scour his tongue with Bab-o
lest they poison the air she dwelt in.
Thus she dwelt in his odor.
Rank as honeysuckle.

On her fifteenth birthday
she pricked her finger
on a charred spinning wheel
and the clocks stopped.
Yes indeed. She went to sleep.
The king and queen went to sleep,
the courtiers, the flies on the wall.
The fire in...Read more of this...

by Tebb, Barry
...flames

Like the sudden poems

I write when my feet

First touch South

Accommodation Road on

Saturday morning and I

Scour the Hollows for you

Margaret, queen of my

Ten year old heart

Among the tansies

And the broken sills.





15



My trouble was I’m not

Really working class,

I never was, we never were,

It was an accident of war

My family landing there;

I’ve got no working class

Leeds uncles and aunts,

A family needs a family

To fall back on but

We had ...Read more of this...

by Hardy, Thomas
...uch matters.

"That this is not the judgment-hour
For some of them's a blessed thing,
For if it were they'd have to scour
Hell's floor for so much threatening. . . .

"Ha, ha. It will be warmer when
I blow the trumpet (if indeed
I ever do; for you are men,
And rest eternal sorely need)."

So down we lay again. "I wonder,
Will the world ever saner be,"
Said one, "than when He sent us under
In our indifferent century!"

And many a skeleton shook ...Read more of this...

by Service, Robert William
...he solitudes, free men from all the earth;
And so they sentinel the woods, the wilds that know their worth;
And so they scour the startled plains and mock at hurt and pain,
And read their Crimson Manual, and find their duty plain.
Knights of the lists of unrenown, born of the frontier's need,
Disdainful of the spoken word, exultant in the deed;
Unconscious heroes of the waste, proud players of the game,
Props of the power behind the throne, upholders of the name:
For thus...Read more of this...



by Keats, John
...sails they glide,
 Nor care for wind and tide.

"Mounted on panthers' furs and lions' manes,
From rear to van they scour about the plains;
A three days' journey in a moment done:
And always, at the rising of the sun,
About the wilds they hunt with spear and horn,
 On spleenful unicorn.

"I saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown
 Before the vine-wreath crown!
I saw parch'd Abyssinia rouse and sing
 To the silver cymbals' ring!
I saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce
 Old Tarta...Read more of this...

by Meredith, George
...on death or death on life be painted.
Let me clasp her soul to know she cannot die!

Gossips count her faults; they scour a narrow chamber
Where there is no window, read not heaven or her.
"When she was a tiny," one aged woman quavers,
Plucks at my heart and leads me by the ear.
Faults she had once as she learnt to run and tumbled:
Faults of feature some see, beauty not complete.
Yet, good gossips, beauty that makes holy
Earth and air, may have faults from hea...Read more of this...

by Clare, John
...maids in weeding hours
To boil in water milk and way1
For washes on an holiday
To make their beauty fair and sleak
And scour the tan from summers cheek
And simple small forget me not
Eyd wi a pinshead yellow spot
I'th'2 middle of its tender blue
That gains from poets notice due
These flowers the toil by crowds destroys
And robs them of their lowly joys
That met the may wi hopes as sweet
As those her suns in gardens meet
And oft the dame will feel inclind
As childhoods memory...Read more of this...

by Milton, John
...den panoply, refulgent host, 
Soon banded; others from the dawning hills 
Look round, and scouts each coast light-armed scour, 
Each quarter to descry the distant foe, 
Where lodged, or whither fled, or if for fight, 
In motion or in halt: Him soon they met 
Under spread ensigns moving nigh, in slow 
But firm battalion; back with speediest sail 
Zophiel, of Cherubim the swiftest wing, 
Came flying, and in mid air aloud thus cried. 
Arm, Warriours, arm for fight; the foe a...Read more of this...

by Emerson, Ralph Waldo
...ass
For proverbs in the market-place;
Through mountains bored by regal art
Toil whistles as he drives his cart.
Nor scour the seas, nor sift mankind,
A poet or a friend to find;
Behold, he watches at the door,
Behold his shadow on the floor.
Open innumerable doors,
The heaven where unveiled Allah pours
The flood of truth, the flood of good,
The seraph's and the cherub's food;
Those doors are men; the pariah kind
Admits thee to the perfect Mind.
Seek not beyond thy...Read more of this...

by Keats, John
...ey glide, 
Nor care for wind and tide. 105 

Mounted on panthers' furs and lions' manes, 
From rear to van they scour about the plains; 
A three days' journey in a moment done; 
And always, at the rising of the sun, 
About the wilds they hunt with spear and horn, 110 
On spleenful unicorn. 

I saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown 
Before the vine-wreath crown! 
I saw parch'd Abyssinia rouse and sing 
To the silver cymbals' ring! 115 
I saw the whelming vintage ...Read more of this...

by Keats, John
...ails they glide, 
 Nor care for wind and tide. 

Mounted on panthers' furs and lions' manes, 
From rear to van they scour about the plains; 
A three days' journey in a moment done; 
And always, at the rising of the sun, 
About the wilds they hunt with spear and horn, 
 On spleenful unicorn. 

I saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown 
 Before the vine-wreath crown! 
I saw parch'd Abyssinia rouse and sing 
 To the silver cymbals' ring! 
I saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce 
 ...Read more of this...

by Keats, John
...ails they glide, 
 Nor care for wind and tide. 

Mounted on panthers' furs and lions' manes, 
From rear to van they scour about the plains; 
A three days' journey in a moment done; 
And always, at the rising of the sun, 
About the wilds they hunt with spear and horn, 
 On spleenful unicorn. 

I saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown 
 Before the vine-wreath crown! 
I saw parch'd Abyssinia rouse and sing 
 To the silver cymbals' ring! 
I saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce 
 ...Read more of this...

by Hopkins, Gerard Manley
...ot well; for still,
Still the scarlet swings and dances on the blade.
So be it. Thou steel, thou butcher,
I c?n scour thee, fresh burnish thee, sheathe thee in thy dark lair; these drops
Never, never, never in their blue banks again.
The woeful, Cradock, O the woeful word! Then what,
What have we seen? Her head, sheared from her shoulders, fall,
And lapped in shining hair, roll to the bank’s edge; then
Down the beetling banks, like water in waterfalls,
It stooped ...Read more of this...

by Plath, Sylvia
...ontrol.
Here is my honey-machine,
It will work without thinking,
Opening, in spring, like an industrious virgin

To scour the creaming crests
As the moon, for its ivory powders, scours the sea.
A third person is watching.
He has nothing to do with the bee-seller or with me.
Now he is gone

In eight great bounds, a great scapegoat.
Here is his slipper, here is another,
And here the square of white linen
He wore instead of a hat.
He was sweet,

The sweat...Read more of this...

by Baudelaire, Charles
...he funeral grounds
And glorified Death as the one way shown.

—My soul is a tomb, an empty confine
Since eternity I scour and I reside;
Nothing hangs on the walls of this hideous sty.

O lazy monk! When will I see
The living spectacle of my misery,
The work of my hands and the love of my eyes?...Read more of this...

by Field, Eugene
...darst; but I darsen't!

I would I were a pirut to sail the ocean blue,
With a big black flag aflyin' overhead;
I would scour the billowy main with my gallant pirut crew
An' dye the sea a gouty, gory red!
With my cutlass in my hand
On the quarterdeck I'd stand
And to deeds of heroism I'd incite my pirut band--
If I darst; but I darsen't!

And, if I darst, I'd lick my pa for the times that he's licked me!
I'd lick my brother an' my teacher, too!
I'd lick the fellers that call ...Read more of this...

by Dryden, John
...and 
That waits impatient for the last command: 
Thus outlaws open villainy maintain; 
They steal not, but in squadrons scour the plain; 
And if their power the passengers subdue, 
The most most have right, the wrong is in the few. 
Such impious axioms foolishly they show, 
For in some soils Republics will not grow: 
Our temperate Isle will no extremes sustain 
Of popular sway or arbitrary reign: 
But slides between them both into the best, 
Secure in freedom, in a monarc...Read more of this...

by Tennyson, Alfred Lord
...eir hands and in their heels 
But fit to flaunt, to dress, to dance, to thrum, 
To tramp, to scream, to burnish, and to scour, 
For ever slaves at home and fools abroad.' 

She, ending, waved her hands: thereat the crowd 
Muttering, dissolved: then with a smile, that looked 
A stroke of cruel sunshine on the cliff, 
When all the glens are drowned in azure gloom 
Of thunder-shower, she floated to us and said: 

'You have done well and like a gentleman, 
And like a prince: ...Read more of this...

by Wignesan, T
...sod, red mounds, knee stuck, incensing joss sticks
All night long burning, exhuming, expelling the spirit.
Let's scour, hiding behind the lowing boughs of the hibiscus
Skirting the school-green parapet thorny fields.
Let us now squawk, piercing the sultry, humid blanket
In the shrill wakeful tarzan tones,
Paddle high on.the swings
Naked thighs, testicles dry.

Let us now vanish panting on the climbing slopes
Bare breasted, steaming rolling with pers...Read more of this...

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Book: Reflection on the Important Things