Famous Shift Poems by Famous Poets

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

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There is no Fatwa in this Land

by Taja Kramberger
For Taslima Nasrin, in sisterhood
There is no fatwa in this land,
what are you thinking,
this is Europe.
A place without borders and
without internal wrinkles,
without possibilities for asylum and exile.

There is no fatwa in this land –
it is divided into
thousands of small conspiracies,
tiny murders per partes,
which seem like coincidental misfortunes
and sap your blood, drop by drop.

There is no fatwa in this land,
what are...Read more of this...

The Song Of The Wage-Slave

by Robert William Service
 When the long, long day is over, and the Big Boss gives me my pay,
I hope that it won't be hell-fire, as some of the parsons say.
And I hope that it won't be heaven, with some of the parsons I've met --
All I want is just quiet, just to rest and forget.
Look at my face, toil-furrowed; look at my...Read more of this...

A Boy in Church

by Robert Graves
 “Gabble-gabble,… brethren,… gabble-gabble!” 
My window frames forest and heather. 
I hardly hear the tuneful babble, 
Not knowing nor much caring whether 
The text is praise or exhortation,
Prayer or thanksgiving, or damnation. 

Outside it blows wetter and wetter, 
The tossing trees never stay still. 
I shift my elbows to catch better 
The full round sweep of heathered hill.
The tortured copse...Read more of this...

Song of the Artesian Water

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 Now the stock have started dying, for the Lord has sent a drought; 
But we're sick of prayers and Providence -- we're going to do without; 
With the derricks up above us and the solid earth below, 
We are waiting at the lever for the word to let her go. 
Sinking down, deeper down, 
Oh, we'll sink it deeper...Read more of this...

Swing Shift Blues

by Alan Dugan
 What is better than leaving a bar
in the middle of the afternoon
besides staying in it or not
having gone into it in the first place
because you had a decent woman to be with?
The air smells particularly fresh
after the stale beer and piss smells.
You can stare up at the whole sky:
it's blue and white and does not
stare back at you like...Read more of this...

81. Song—For a' that

by Robert Burns
 THO’ 1 women’s minds, like winter winds,
 May shift, and turn, an’ a’ that,
The noblest breast adores them maist—
 A consequence I draw that.


Chorus For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
 And twice as meikle’s a’ that;
 The bonie lass that I loe best
 She’ll be my ain for a’ that.


Great love I bear to a’ the fair,
 Their humble...Read more of this...

Upper Lambourne

by John Betjeman
 Up the ash tree climbs the ivy,
Up the ivy climbs the sun,
With a twenty-thousand pattering,
Has a valley breeze begun,
Feathery ash, neglected elder,
Shift the shade and make it run -

Shift the shade toward the nettles,
And the nettles set it free,
To streak the stained Carrara headstone,
Where, in nineteen-twenty-three,
He who trained a hundred winners,
Paid the Final Entrance Fee.

Leathery limbs of Upper Lambourne,
Leathery...Read more of this...

Night Shift

by Sylvia Plath
 It was not a heart, beating. 
That muted boom, that clangor 
Far off, not blood in the ears 
Drumming up and fever 

To impose on the evening. 
The noise came from outside: 
A metal detonating 
Native, evidently, to 

These stilled suburbs nobody 
Startled at it, though the sound 
Shook the ground with its pounding. 
It took a root at...Read more of this...

The Hour Before Dawn

by William Butler Yeats
 A cursing rogue with a merry face,
A bundle of rags upon a crutch,
Stumbled upon that windy place
Called Cruachan, and it was as much
As the one sturdy leg could do
To keep him upright while he cursed.
He had counted, where long years ago
Queen Maeve's nine Maines had been nursed,
A pair of lapwings, one old sheep,
And not a house to the plain's...Read more of this...

A New Years Giftsent To Sir Simeon Steward

by Robert Herrick
 No news of navies burnt at seas;
No noise of late spawn'd tittyries;
No closet plot or open vent,
That frights men with a Parliament:
No new device or late-found trick,
To read by th' stars the kingdom's sick;
No gin to catch the State, or wring
The free-born nostril of the King,
We send to you; but here a jolly
Verse crown'd with ivy and with holly;
That...Read more of this...

Honors - Part I

by Jean Ingelow
A Scholar is musing on his want of success.)

To strive—and fail. Yes, I did strive and fail;
  I set mine eyes upon a certain night
To find a certain star—and could not hail
      With them its deep-set light.
Fool that I was! I will rehearse my fault:
  I, wingless, thought myself on high to lift
Among...Read more of this...

Satire II:The Country Mouse and the Town Mouse

by Sir Thomas Wyatt
 MY mother's maids, when they did sew and spin, 
They sang sometime a song of the field mouse, 
That for because her livelood was but thin [livelihood] 
Would needs go seek her townish sister's house. 
She thought herself endured to much pain: 
The stormy blasts her cave so sore did souse 
That when the furrows swimmed with the rain...Read more of this...

At Bessemer

by Philip Levine
 19 years old and going nowhere, 
I got a ride to Bessemer and walked 
the night road toward Birmingham 
passing dark groups of men cursing 
the end of a week like every week. 
Out of town I found a small grove 
of trees, high narrow pines, and I 
sat back against the trunk of one 
as the first rains...Read more of this...

When Like A Running Grave

by Dylan Thomas
 When, like a running grave, time tracks you down,
Your calm and cuddled is a scythe of hairs,
Love in her gear is slowly through the house,
Up naked stairs, a turtle in a hearse,
Hauled to the dome,

Comes, like a scissors stalking, tailor age,
Deliver me who timid in my tribe,
Of love am barer than Cadaver's trap
Robbed of the foxy tongue, his footed...Read more of this...

Lepanto

by G K Chesterton
 White founts falling in the Courts of the sun, 
And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run; 
There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared, 
It stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard; 
It curls the blood-red crescent, the crescent of his lips; 
For the inmost sea of all the...Read more of this...

Mithridates

by Ralph Waldo Emerson
 I cannot spare water or wine,
Tobacco-leaf, or poppy, or rose;
From the earth-poles to the Line,
All between that works or grows,
Every thing is kin of mine.

Give me agates for my meat,
Give me cantharids to eat,
From air and ocean bring me foods,
From all zones and altitudes.

From all natures, sharp and slimy,
Salt and basalt, wild and tame,
Tree, and lichen, ape, sea-lion,
Bird and...Read more of this...

The Man From Eldorado

by Robert William Service
 He's the man from Eldorado, and he's just arrived in town,
 In moccasins and oily buckskin shirt.
He's gaunt as any Indian, and pretty nigh as brown;
 He's greasy, and he smells of sweat and dirt.
He sports a crop of whiskers that would shame a healthy hog;
 Hard work has racked his joints and stooped his back;
He slops along the...Read more of this...

8 Fragments For Kurt Cobain

by Jim Carroll
 1/
Genius is not a generous thing
In return it charges more interest than any amount of royalties can cover
And it resents fame
With bitter vengeance 

Pills and powdres only placate it awhile
Then it puts you in a place where the planet's poles reverse
Where the currents of electricity shift 

Your Body becomes a magnet and pulls to it despair and rotten teeth,
Cheese...Read more of this...

The Hands of the Betrothed

by D. H. Lawrence
 Her tawny eyes are onyx of thoughtlessness, 
Hardened they are like gems in ancient modesty; 
Yea, and her mouth’s prudent and crude caress 
Means even less than her many words to me. 

Though her kiss betrays me also this, this only
Consolation, that in her lips her blood at climax clips
Two wild, dumb paws in anguish on the lonely 
Fruit...Read more of this...

445. The Minstel at Lincluden

by Robert Burns
 AS I stood by yon roofless tower,
 Where the wa’flow’r scents the dery air,
Where the howlet mourns in her ivy bower,
 And tells the midnight moon her care.


Chorus.—A lassie all alone, was making her moan,
 Lamenting our lads beyond the sea:
In the bluidy wars they fa’, and our honour’s gane an’ a’,
 And broken-hearted we maun die.


The winds were...Read more of this...

Behind the Arras

by Bliss Carman
 I like the old house tolerably well, 
Where I must dwell 
Like a familiar gnome; 
And yet I never shall feel quite at home. 
I love to roam. 
Day after day I loiter and explore 
From door to door; 
So many treasures lure 
The curious mind. What histories obscure 
They must immure! 

I hardly know which room I care...Read more of this...

A Fire-Truck

by Richard Wilbur
 Right down the shocked street with a
 siren-blast
That sends all else skittering to the
 curb,
Redness, brass, ladders and hats hurl
 past,
 Blurring to sheer verb,

Shift at the corner into uproarious gear
And make it around the turn in a squall
 of traction,
The headlong bell maintaining sure and
 clear,
 Thought is degraded action!

Beautiful, heavy, unweary, loud,
 obvious thing!
I stand here purged...Read more of this...

To Brenda Williams ‘writing Against The Grain'

by Barry Tebb
 It was Karl Shapiro who wrote in his ‘Defence of Ignorance’ how many poets

Go mad or seem to be so and the majority think we should all be in jail

Or mental hospital and you have ended up in both places - fragile as bone china,

Your pale skin taut, your fingers clasped tight round a cup, sitting in a pool

Of...Read more of this...

Driver Smith

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 'Twas Driver Smith of Battery A was anxious to see a fight; 
He thought of the Transvaal all the day, he thought of it all the night -- 
"Well, if the battery's left behind, I'll go to the war," says he, 
"I'll go a-driving and ambulance in the ranks of the A.M.C. 
"I'm fairly sick of these here parades...Read more of this...

On Lieutenant Shift

by Ben Jonson
XII. ? ON LIEUTENANT SHIFT.       SHIFT, here in town, not meanest among squires, That haunt Pickt-hatch, Marsh-Lambeth, and White-friars, Keeps himself, with half a man, and defrays The charge of that state, with this charm, god pays. By that one spell he lives, eats, drinks, arrays Himself :  his whole revenue is, god pays. The quarter-day is come ;...Read more of this...

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