Short Poetry by Popular Famous Poets

 Poet
1 William Wordsworth
2 William Shakespeare
3 Oscar Wilde
4 Emily Dickinson
5 Rabindranath Tagore
6 Maya Angelou
7 Robert Frost
8 Langston Hughes
9 Walt Whitman
10 Shel Silverstein
11 William Blake
12 Pablo Neruda
13 Sylvia Plath
14 Rudyard Kipling
15 William Butler Yeats
16 Alfred Lord Tennyson
17 Tupac Shakur
18 Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings
19 Charles Bukowski
20 Sarojini Naidu
21 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
22 Muhammad Ali
23 Christina Rossetti
24 Billy Collins
25 Alice Walker
26 Sandra Cisneros
27 Carol Ann Duffy
28 Ogden Nash
29 John Donne
30 Edgar Allan Poe
31 Ralph Waldo Emerson
32 Raymond Carver
33 Nikki Giovanni
34 John Keats
35 Lewis Carroll
36 Thomas Hardy
37 Spike Milligan
38 Thunchaththu Ramanujan Ezhuthachan
39 Mark Twain
40 Carl Sandburg
41 Percy Bysshe Shelley
42 Anne Sexton
43 Alexander Pushkin
44 Henry David Thoreau
45 Roger McGough
46 Elizabeth Barrett Browning
47 Sara Teasdale
48 Victor Hugo
49 Wendell Berry
50 George (Lord) Byron

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Famous Short Child Poems

Famous Short Child Poems. Short Child Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Child short poems

Other Short Poem Pages


Poems are below...


Child | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Maya Angelou

When You Come

When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning me
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.
Offering me, as to a child, an attic, Gatherings of days too few.
Baubles of stolen kisses.
Trinkets of borrowed loves.
Trunks of secret words, I cry.


by Emily Dickinson

How happy I was if I could forget

 How happy I was if I could forget
To remember how sad I am
Would be an easy adversity
But the recollecting of Bloom

Keeps making November difficult
Till I who was almost bold
Lose my way like a little Child
And perish of the cold.


by Anna Akhmatova

I Dont Like Flowers..

I don't like flowers - they do remind me often
Of funerals, of weddings and of balls;
Their presence on tables for a dinner calls.
But sub-eternal roses' ever simple charm Which was my solace when I was a child, Has stayed - my heritage - a set of years behind, Like Mozart's ever-living music's hum.


by Ellis Parker Butler

The Poor Boy's Christmas

 Observe, my child, this pretty scene,
And note the air of pleasure keen
With which the widow’s orphan boy
Toots his tin horn, his only toy.
What need of costly gifts has he? The widow has nowhere to flee.
And ample noise his horn emits To drive the widow into fits.
MORAL: The philosophic mind can see The uses of adversity.


by Langston Hughes

Merry-Go-Round

 COLORED CHILD AT CARNIVAL

Where is the Jim Crow section 
On this merry-go-round, 
Mister, cause I want to ride?
Down South where I come from 
White and colored 
Can't sit side by side.
Down South on the train There's a Jim Crow car.
On the bus we're put in the back-- But there ain't no back To a merry-go-round! Where's the horse For a kid that's black?


by William Cullen Bryant

November

 There is wind where the rose was, 
Cold rain where sweet grass was, 
And clouds like sheep 
Stream o'er the steep 
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was, Nought gold where your hair was, But phantom, forlorn, Beneath the thorn, Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was, Tears, tears where my heart was, And ever with me, Child, ever with me, Silence where hope was.


by Gabriela Mistral

Pine Forest

 Let us go now into the forest.
Trees will pass by your face, and I will stop and offer you to them, but they cannot bend down.
The night watches over its creatures, except for the pine trees that never change: the old wounded springs that spring blessed gum, eternal afternoons.
If they could, the trees would lift you and carry you from valley to valley, and you would pass from arm to arm, a child running from father to father.


by Yehuda Amichai

Jerusalem

 On a roof in the Old City
Laundry hanging in the late afternoon sunlight:
The white sheet of a woman who is my enemy,
The towel of a man who is my enemy,
To wipe off the sweat of his brow.
In the sky of the Old City A kite.
At the other end of the string, A child I can't see Because of the wall.
We have put up many flags, They have put up many flags.
To make us think that they're happy.
To make them think that we're happy.


by Sylvia Plath

Child

 Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.
I want to fill it with color and ducks, The zoo of the new Whose name you meditate -- April snowdrop, Indian pipe, Little Stalk without wrinkle, Pool in which images Should be grand and classical Not this troublous Wringing of hands, this dark Ceiling without a star.


by Charles Bukowski

As The Sparrow

 To give life you must take life,
and as our grief falls flat and hollow
upon the billion-blooded sea
I pass upon serious inward-breaking shoals rimmed
with white-legged, white-bellied rotting creatures
lengthily dead and rioting against surrounding scenes.
Dear child, I only did to you what the sparrow did to you; I am old when it is fashionable to be young; I cry when it is fashionable to laugh.
I hated you when it would have taken less courage to love.


by Allen Ginsberg

An Eastern Ballad

 I speak of love that comes to mind:
The moon is faithful, although blind;
She moves in thought she cannot speak.
Perfect care has made her bleak.
I never dreamed the sea so deep, The earth so dark; so long my sleep, I have become another child.
I wake to see the world go wild.


by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Come not when I am dead

 Come not, when I am dead,
To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave,
To trample round my fallen head,
And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save.
There let the wind sweep and the plover cry; But thou, go by.
Child, if it were thine error or thy crime I care no longer, being all unblest: Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time, And I desire to rest.
Pass on, weak heart, and leave to where I lie: Go by, go by.


by Louise Gluck

Lullaby

 Softly lie down
and close your eyes so blue
worry no more
for tonight I'll watch over you

Gently rest your head
against my soothing chest
for here in my arms
you've found a safe place to rest

Sleep sweet child
in peaceful undisturbed dreams
and don't awake
until the morning beams


June 25, 2006
©2006 Fenny


by Robert Graves

Id Love To Be A Fairys Child

 Children born of fairy stock
Never need for shirt or frock,
Never want for food or fire,
Always get their hearts desire:
Jingle pockets full of gold,
Marry when they're seven years old.
Every fairy child may keep Two ponies and ten sheep; All have houses, each his own, Built of brick or granite stone; They live on cherries, they run wild-- I'd love to be a Fairy's child.


by Victor Hugo

THE BEGGAR'S QUATRAIN

 ("Aveugle comme Homère.") 
 
 {Improvised at the Café de Paris.} 


 Blind, as was Homer; as Belisarius, blind, 
 But one weak child to guide his vision dim. 
 The hand which dealt him bread, in pity kind— 
 He'll never see; God sees it, though, for him. 
 
 H.L.C., "London Society." 


 





by James Joyce

A Flower Given to My Daughter

 Frail the white rose and frail are
Her hands that gave
Whose soul is sere and paler
Than time's wan wave.
Rosefrail and fair -- yet frailest A wonder wild In gentle eyes thou veilest, My blueveined child.


by Nazim Hikmet

Optimistic Man

 as a child he never plucked the wings off flies
he didn't tie tin cans to cats' tails
or lock beetles in matchboxes
or stomp anthills
he grew up
and all those things were done to him
I was at his bedside when he died
he said read me a poem
about the sun and the sea
about nuclear reactors and satellites
about the greatness of humanity


by Ogden Nash

Grandpa Is Ashamed

 A child need not be very clever
To learn that "Later, dear" means "Never.
"


by Christina Rossetti

Is it Well with the Child?

 SAFE where I cannot die yet, 
 Safe where I hope to lie too, 
Safe from the fume and the fret; 
 You, and you, 
 Whom I never forget.
Safe from the frost and the snow, Safe from the storm and the sun, Safe where the seeds wait to grow One by one, And to come back in blow.


by Julie Hill Alger

Tuesday's Child

All the babies born that Tuesday,
full of grace, went home by Thursday
except for one, my tiny girl
who rushed toward light too soon.
All the Tuesday mothers wheeled down the corridor in glory, their arms replete with warm baby; I carried a potted plant.
I came back the next day and the next, a visitor with heavy breasts, to sit and rock the little pilgrim, nourish her, nourish me.


by Lewis Carroll

Madrigal

 (To Miss May Forshall.
) HE shouts amain, he shouts again, (Her brother, fierce, as bluff King Hal), "I tell you flat, I shall do that!" She softly whispers " 'May' for 'shall'!" He wistful sighed one eventide (Her friend, that made this Madrigal), "And shall I kiss you, pretty Miss!" Smiling she answered " 'May' for 'shall'!" With eager eyes my reader cries, "Your friend must be indeed a val- -uable child, so sweet, so mild! What do you call her?" "May For shall.
"


by Vachel Lindsay

This Section is a Christmas Tree

 THIS section is a Christmas tree: 
Loaded with pretty toys for you.
Behold the blocks, the Noah's arks, The popguns painted red and blue.
No solemn pine-cone forest-fruit, But silver horns and candy sacks And many little tinsel hearts And cherubs pink, and jumping-jacks.
For every child a gift, I hope.
The doll upon the topmost bough Is mine.
But all the rest are yours.
And I will light the candles now.


by Ellis Parker Butler

Immortality

 I bowed my head in anguish sore
 When Life made Death his bride;
“Soul, we are lost forever more!”
 Unto my soul I cried.
“Nay, waste in wailing not thy breath,” My soul replied to me, “Behold! The child of Life and Death Is Immortality!”


by Stephen Crane

A man went before a strange God

 A man went before a strange God --
The God of many men, sadly wise.
And the deity thundered loudly, Fat with rage, and puffing.
"Kneel, mortal, and cringe And grovel and do homage To My Particularly Sublime Majesty.
" The man fled.
Then the man went to another God -- The God of his inner thoughts.
And this one looked at him With soft eyes Lit with infinite comprehension, And said, "My poor child!"


by Stephen Crane

I met a seer

 I met a seer.
He held in his hands The book of wisdom.
"Sir," I addressed him, "Let me read.
" "Child -- " he began.
"Sir," I said, "Think not that I am a child, For already I know much Of that which you hold.
Aye, much.
" He smiled.
Then he opened the book And held it before me.
-- Strange that I should have grown so suddenly blind.