Famous Short Inspirational Poems

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

Revelation  

 We make ourselves a place apart
Behind light words that tease and flout,
But oh, the agitated hear
Till someone really find us out.


'Tis pity if the case require
(Or so we say) that in the end
We speak the literal to inspire
The understanding of a friend.


But so with all, from babes that play
At hid-and-seek to God afar,
So all who hide too well away
Must speak and tell us where they are.

AN HYMN TO THE MUSES  

 Honour to you who sit
Near to the well of wit,
And drink your fill of it!

Glory and worship be
To you, sweet Maids, thrice three,
Who still inspire me;

And teach me how to sing
Unto the lyric string,
My measures ravishing!

Then, while I sing your praise,
My priest-hood crown with bays
Green to the end of days!

124. Motto prefixed to the Author's first Publication  

 THE SIMPLE Bard, unbroke by rules of art,
He pours the wild effusions of the heart;
And if inspir’d ’tis Nature’s pow’rs inspire;
Her’s all the melting thrill, and her’s the kindling fire.

Bright Moments  

There can be no forced inspiration, 
But there can be mergers with the world

There can be a flowing of feelings
Quiet, yet overwhelming

Flying outside to unite
Flying inside to find

The melody of the moment
When the yellow corona appears on the horizon

And blue light appears over the mountain
And the world becomes mellow

Hospitable and generous, 
And you fly into the heart of the mountain

To find an egg of an unborn bird
Able to break out and fly as a newborn eagle 

A Song  

 Persuade me not, there is a Grace 
Proceeds from Silvia's Voice or Lute, 
Against Miranda's charming Face 
To make her hold the least Dispute.
 
Musick, which tunes the Soul for Love, 
And stirs up all our soft Desires, 
Do's but the glowing Flame improve, 
Which pow'rful Beauty first inspires.
 

Thus, whilst with Art she plays, and sings 
I to Miranda, standing by, 
Impute the Music of the Strings, 
And all the melting Words apply

Typographical  

 The Editor wrote his political screed 
In ink that was fainter and fainter; 
He rose to the call of his country's need, 
And in spiderish characters wrote with speed, 
A column on "Cutting the Painter".
 
The "reader" sat in his high-backed chair, 
For literals he was a hunter; 
But he stared aghast at the column long 
Of the editorial hot and strong, 
For the comp.
 inspired by some sense of wrong 
Had headed it "Gutting the Punter".

A draught of wine would make a mountain dance,   

A draught of wine would make a mountain dance,
Base is the churl who looks at wine askance;
Wine is a soul our bodies to inspire,
A truce to this vain talk of temperance!

Song On May Morning  

 Now the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger,
Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her
The Flowry May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow Cowslip, and the pale Primrose.

Hail bounteous May that dost inspire
Mirth and youth, and warm desire,
Woods and Groves, are of thy dressing,
Hill and Dale, doth boast thy blessing.

Thus we salute thee with our early Song,
And welcom thee, and wish thee long.

INSPIRATION  

At the golden gate of song
Stood I, knocking all day long,
But the Angel, calm and cold,
Still refused and bade me, "Hold."
Then a breath of soft perfume,
Then a light within the gloom;
Thou, Love, camest to my side,
And the gates flew open wide.
Long I dwelt in this domain,
Knew no sorrow, grief, or pain;
Now you bid me forth and free,
Will you shut these gates on me?[Pg 180]

Inspiration  

 LIGHTEST of dancers, with no thought
Thy glimmering feet beat on my heart,
Gayest of singers, with no care
Waking to beauty the still air,
More than the labours of our art,
More than our wisdom can impart,
Thine idle ecstasy hath taught.



Lost long in solemn ponderings,
With the blind shepherd mind for guide,
The uncreated joy in you
Hath lifted up my heart unto
The morning stars in their first pride,
And the angelic joys that glide
High upon heaven-uplifted wings.

441. Complimentary Epigram to Mrs. Riddell  

 “PRAISE Woman still,” his lordship roars,
 “Deserv’d or not, no matter?”
But thee, whom all my soul adores,
 Ev’n Flattery cannot flatter:


Maria, all my thought and dream,
 Inspires my vocal shell;
The more I praise my lovely theme,
 The more the truth I tell.

Variant Form Of The Preceding Poem  

 COME to me, all ye that labour; I will give your spirits rest;
Here apart in starry quiet I will give you rest.

Come to me, ye heavy laden, sin defiled and care opprest,
In your father's quiet mansions, soon to prove a welcome guest.

But an hour you bear your trial, sin and suffer, bleed and die;
But an hour you toil and combat here in day's inspiring eye.

See the feet of your deliverer; lo, the hour of freedom nigh.