Short Poetry by Popular Famous Poets

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

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Famous Short Garden Poems

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

Other Short Poem Pages


Poems are below...


Garden | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Days

DAUGHTERS of Time the hypocritic Days  
Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes  
And marching single in an endless file  
Bring diadems and fagots in their hands.
To each they offer gifts after his will 5 Bread kingdoms stars and sky that holds them all.
I in my pleach¨¨d garden watched the pomp Forgot my morning wishes hastily Took a few herbs and apples and the Day Turned and departed silent.
I too late 10 Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn.


by Carl Sandburg

Under the Harvest Moon

 Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.
Under the summer roses When the flagrant crimson Lurks in the dusk Of the wild red leaves, Love, with little hands, Comes and touches you With a thousand memories, And asks you Beautiful, unanswerable questions.


by Nikki Giovanni

Knoxville Tennessee

 I always like summer
Best
you can eat fresh corn
From daddy's garden
And okra
And greens
And cabbage
And lots of
Barbeque
And buttermilk
And homemade ice-cream
At the church picnic
And listen to
Gospel music
Outside
At the church
Homecoming
And go to the mountains with
Your grandmother
And go barefooted
And be warm
All the time
Not only when you go to bed
And sleep


by Robert Frost

Atmosphere

 Inscription for a Garden Wall

Winds blow the open grassy places bleak;
But where this old wall burns a sunny cheek,
They eddy over it too toppling weak
To blow the earth or anything self-clear;
Moisture and color and odor thicken here.
The hours of daylight gather atmosphere.


by Robert Frost

Fireflies in the Garden

 Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can't sustain the part.


by Matsuo Basho

Winter garden

 Winter garden,
the moon thinned to a thread,
 insects singing.


by Victor Hugo

AN AUTUMNAL SIMILE

 ("Les feuilles qui gisaient.") 


 The leaves that in the lonely walks were spread, 
 Starting from off the ground beneath the tread, 
 Coursed o'er the garden-plain; 
 Thus, sometimes, 'mid the soul's deep sorrowings, 
 Our soul a moment mounts on wounded wings, 
 Then, swiftly, falls again. 


 





by Oscar Wilde

LE JARDIN

 The lily's withered chalice falls
Around its rod of dusty gold,
And from the beech-trees on the wold
The last wood-pigeon coos and calls.
The gaudy leonine sunflower Hangs black and barren on its stalk, And down the windy garden walk The dead leaves scatter, - hour by hour.
Pale privet-petals white as milk Are blown into a snowy mass: The roses lie upon the grass Like little shreds of crimson silk.


by Rabindranath Tagore

Lost Time

 On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time.
But it is never lost, my lord.
Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands.
Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts, buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness.
I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagined all work had ceased.
In the morning I woke up and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.


by Antonio Machado

The Wind One Brilliant Day

 The wind, one brilliant day, called
to my soul with an odor of jasmine.
"In return for the odor of my jasmine, I'd like all the odor of your roses.
" "I have no roses; all the flowers in my garden are dead.
" "Well then, I'll take the withered petals and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain.
" the wind left.
And I wept.
And I said to myself: "What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?" Translated by Robert Bly


by Dejan Stojanovic

Forgotten Home

My feelings are too loud for words 
And too shy for the world.
Read the light and have a dream In your hidden garden.
No need for words.
The words are but shadows Of stories never said, Shining from distant kingdoms, Reminding you of a forgotten home.
Light rays will tell you the story.
There is another alphabet Whispering from every leaf, Singing from every river, Shimmering from every sky.


by Oscar Wilde

To My Wife - With A Copy Of My Poems

 I can write no stately proem
As a prelude to my lay;
From a poet to a poem
I would dare to say.
For if of these fallen petals One to you seem fair, Love will waft it till it settles On your hair.
And when wind and winter harden All the loveless land, It will whisper of the garden, You will understand.


by Emily Dickinson

My Garden -- like the Beach

 My Garden -- like the Beach --
Denotes there be -- a Sea --
That's Summer --
Such as These -- the Pearls
She fetches -- such as Me


by Edward Lear

There was an old Man in a Garden

There was an old Man in a Garden,
Who always begged every one's pardon;
When they asked him, "What for?" he replied, "You're a bore!
And I trust you'll go out of my garden.
"


by James Joyce

Go Seek Her Out

 Go seek her out all courteously, 
And say I come, 
Wind of spices whose song is ever 
Epithalamium.
O, hurry over the dark lands And run upon the sea For seas and lands shall not divide us My love and me.
Now, wind, of your good courtesy I pray you go, And come into her little garden And sing at her window; Singing: The bridal wind is blowing For Love is at his noon; And soon will your true love be with you, Soon, O soon.


by Rabindranath Tagore

Lovers Gifts II: Come to My Garden Walk

 Come to my garden walk, my love.
Pass by the fervid flowers that press themselves on your sight.
Pass them by, stopping at some chance joy, which like a sudden wonder of sunset illumines, yet elude.
For lover's gift is shy, it never tells its name, it flits across the shade, spreading a shiver of joy along the dust.
Overtake it or miss it for ever.
But a gift that can be grasped is merely a frail flower, or a lamp with flame that will flicker.


by Adam Lindsay Gordon

GONE

 THE last, late guest 
To the gate we followed; 
Goodbye -- and the rest 
The night-wind swallowed.
House, garden, street, Lay tenfold gloomy, Where accents sweet Had made music to me.
It was but a feast With the dark coming on; She was but a guest -- And now, she is gone.


by Walt Whitman

I will Take an Egg Out of the Robin's Nest

 I WILL take an egg out of the robin’s nest in the orchard, 
I will take a branch of gooseberries from the old bush in the garden, and go and preach to
 the
 world; 
You shall see I will not meet a single heretic or scorner, 
You shall see how I stump clergymen, and confound them, 
You shall see me showing a scarlet tomato, and a white pebble from the beach.
5


by Emily Dickinson

How dare the robins sing

 How dare the robins sing,
When men and women hear
Who since they went to their account
Have settled with the year! --
Paid all that life had earned
In one consummate bill,
And now, what life or death can do
Is immaterial.
Insulting is the sun To him whose mortal light Beguiled of immortality Bequeaths him to the night.
Extinct be every hum In deference to him Whose garden wrestles with the dew, At daybreak overcome!


by Emily Dickinson

There is another sky

 There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields -
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!


by Robert Frost

Lodged

 The rain to the wind said,
'You push and I'll pelt.
' They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged--though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.


by Thomas Edward Brown

My Garden

 A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot!
Rose plot,
Fringed pool,
Ferned grot--
The veriest school
Of peace; and yet the fool
Contends that God is not--
Not God! in gardens! when the eve is cool?
Nay, but I have a sign;
'Tis very sure God walks in mine.


by Walt Whitman

Ages and Ages Returning at Intervals

 AGES and ages, returning at intervals, 
Undestroy’d, wandering immortal, 
Lusty, phallic, with the potent original loins, perfectly sweet, 
I, chanter of Adamic songs, 
Through the new garden, the West, the great cities calling,
Deliriate, thus prelude what is generated, offering these, offering myself, 
Bathing myself, bathing my songs in Sex, 
Offspring of my loins.


by Mother Goose

A Cherry


As I went through the garden gap,
Who should I meet but Dick Red-cap!
A stick in his hand, a stone in his throat,--
If you'll tell me this riddle, I'll give you a groat.


by Emily Dickinson

New feet within my garden go

 New feet within my garden go --
New fingers stir the sod --
A Troubadour upon the Elm
Betrays the solitude.
New children play upon the green -- New Weary sleep below -- And still the pensive Spring returns -- And still the punctual snow!