Short Poetry by Popular Famous Poets

 Poet
1 William Wordsworth
2 Oscar Wilde
3 William Shakespeare
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 Sandra Cisneros
21 Muhammad Ali
22 Alice Walker
23 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
24 Billy Collins
25 Sarojini Naidu
26 Christina Rossetti
27 Carol Ann Duffy
28 Edgar Allan Poe
29 John Donne
30 Ralph Waldo Emerson
31 Nikki Giovanni
32 John Keats
33 Raymond Carver
34 Ogden Nash
35 Lewis Carroll
36 Thomas Hardy
37 Mark Twain
38 Spike Milligan
39 Anne Sexton
40 Carl Sandburg
41 Alexander Pushkin
42 Elizabeth Barrett Browning
43 Percy Bysshe Shelley
44 Henry David Thoreau
45 Victor Hugo
46 Roger McGough
47 Sara Teasdale
48 George (Lord) Byron
49 Gary Soto
50 Gwendolyn Brooks

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Famous Short Weather Poems

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

Other Short Poem Pages


Poems are below...


Weather | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by William Shakespeare

Under the Greenwood Tree

 Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live i' the sun, Seeking the food he eats, And pleas'd with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.


by Susan Rich

For Sale

 Xhosa women in clothes too light

for the weather have brought wild flowers

and sit sloped along the Claremont road.
I see her through rolled windows, watch her watch me to decide if I’ll pay.
It’s South Africa, after all, after apartheid; but we’re still idling here, my car to her curb, my automatic locks to her inadequate wage.


by Adrienne Rich

In Those Years

 In those years, people will say, we lost track
of the meaning of we, of you
we found ourselves
reduced to I
and the whole thing became
silly, ironic, terrible:
we were trying to live a personal life
and yes, that was the only life
we could bear witness to

But the great dark birds of history screamed and plunged
into our personal weather
They were headed somewhere else but their beaks and pinions drove
along the shore, through the rags of fog
where we stood, saying I


by Emily Dickinson

Before you thought of spring

Before you thought of spring,
Except as a surmise,
You see, God bless his suddenness,
A fellow in the skies
Of independent hues,
A little weather-worn,
Inspiriting habiliments
Of indigo and brown.
With specimens of song, As if for you to choose, Discretion in the interval, With gay delays he goes To some superior tree Without a single leaf, And shouts for joy to nobody But his seraphic self!


by Wallace Stevens

Disillusionment of Ten o Clock

The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green, Or purple with green rings, Or green with yellow rings, Or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange, With socks of lace And beaded ceintures.
People are not going To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor, Drunk and asleep in his boots, Catches tigers In red weather.


by Ogden Nash

I Didnt Go To Church Today

 I didn't go to church today,
I trust the Lord to understand.
The surf was swirling blue and white, The children swirling on the sand.
He knows, He knows how brief my stay, How brief this spell of summer weather, He knows when I am said and done We'll have plenty of time together.


by Patrick Kavanagh

Memory Of My Father

 Every old man I see
Reminds me of my father
When he had fallen in love with death
One time when sheaves were gathered.
That man I saw in Gardner Street Stumbled on the kerb was one, He stared at me half-eyed, I might have been his son.
And I remember the musician Faltering over his fiddle In Bayswater, London, He too set me the riddle.
Every old man I see In October-coloured weather Seems to say to me: "I was once your father.
"


by Sir John Suckling

The Constant Lover

 Out upon it, I have lov'd
Three whole days together;
And am like to love three more,
If it prove fair weather.
Time shall molt away his wings Ere he shall discover In such whole wide world again Such a constant lover.
But the spite on't is, no praise Is due at all to me: Love with me had made no stays Had it any been but she.
Had it any been but she And that very face, There had been at least ere this A dozen dozen in her place.


by John Gould Fletcher

Spring

 Birds' love and birds' song
Flying here and there,
Birds' songand birds' love
And you with gold for hair!
Birds' songand birds' love
Passing with the weather,
Men's song and men's love,
To love once and forever.
Men's love and birds' love, And women's love and men's! And you my wren with a crown of gold, You my queen of the wrens! You the queen of the wrens -- We'll be birds of a feather, I'll be King of the Queen of the wrens, And all in a nest together.


by William Carlos (WCW) Williams

Light Hearted William

 Light hearted William twirled 
his November moustaches 
and, half dressed, looked
from the bedroom window
upon the spring weather.
Heigh-ya! sighed he gaily leaning out to see up and down the street where a heavy sunlight lay beyond some blue shadows.
Into the room he drew his head again and laughed to himself quietly twirling his green moustaches.


by Linda Pastan

Emily Dickinson

 We think of hidden in a white dress
among the folded linens and sachets
of well-kept cupboards, or just out of sight
sending jellies and notes with no address
to all the wondering Amherst neighbors.
Eccentric as New England weather the stiff wind of her mind, stinging or gentle, blew two half imagined lovers off.
Yet legend won't explain the sheer sanity of vision, the serious mischief of language, the economy of pain.


by Sir John Suckling

Out upon it I have lovd

 Out upon it, I have lov'd
Three whole days together;
And am like to love three more,
If it prove fair weather.
Time shall moult away his wings, Ere he shall discover In the whole wide world again Such a constant lover.
But the spite on't is, no praise Is due at all to me; Love with me had made no stays, Had it any been but she.
Had it any been but she, And that very face, There had been at least ere this A dozen dozen in her place.


by Mother Goose

One Misty Moisty Morning


One misty moisty morning,
    When cloudy was the weather,
I chanced to meet an old man,
    Clothed all in leather.
He began to compliment
    And I began to grin.
How do you do? And how do you do?
    And how do you do again?


by Bertolt Brecht

Parting

 We embrace.
Rich cloth under my fingers While yours touch poor fabric.
A quick embrace You were invited for dinner While the minions of law are after me.
We talk about the weather and our Lasting friendship.
Anything else Would be too bitter.


by Wang Wei

Mount Zhongnan

 Its massive height near the City of Heaven 
Joins a thousand mountains to the corner of the sea.
Clouds, when I look back, close behind me, Mists, when I enter them, are gone.
A central peak divides the wilds And weather into many valleys.
.
.
.
Needing a place to spend the night, I call to a wood-cutter over the river


by Edward Lear

There Was An Old Person Of Nice

 There was an old person of Nice, 
Whose associates were usually Geese.
They walked out together, in all sorts of weather.
That affable person of Nice!


by Wallace Stevens

Disillusionment Of Ten Oclock

 The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green, Or purple with green rings, Or green with yellow rings, Or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange, With socks of lace And beaded ceintures.
People are not going To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor, Drunk and asleep in his boots, Catches Tigers In red weather.


by Edward Lear

There was a Young Lady of Turkey

There was a Young Lady of Turkey,
Who wept when the weather was murky;
When the day turned out fine, she ceased to repine,
That capricious Young Lady of Turkey.


by Herman Melville

America

 Once in English they said America.
Was it English to them.
Once they said Belgian.
We like a fog.
Do you for weather.
Are we brave.
Are we true.
Have we the national colour.
Can we stand ditches.
Can we mean well.
Do we talk together.
Have we red cross.
A great many people speak of feet.
And socks.


by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Spring Song

 THE air was full of sun and birds,
The fresh air sparkled clearly.
Remembrance wakened in my heart And I knew I loved her dearly.
The fallows and the leafless trees And all my spirit tingled.
My earliest thought of love, and Spring's First puff of perfume mingled.
In my still heart the thoughts awoke, Came lone by lone together - Say, birds and Sun and Spring, is Love A mere affair of weather?


by Edward Lear

There was an Old Person of Philœ

There was an Old Person of Philœ,
Whose conduct was scroobious and wily;
He rushed up a Palm when the weather was calm,
And observed all the ruins of Philœ.


by Robert Frost

The Flower Boat

 The fisherman's swapping a yarn for a yarn
Under the hand of the village barber,
And her in the angle of house and barn
His deep-sea dory has found a harbor.
At anchor she rides the sunny sod As full to the gunnel of flowers growing As ever she turned her home with cod From George's bank when winds were blowing.
And I judge from that elysian freight That all they ask is rougher weather, And dory and master will sail by fate To seek the Happy Isles together.


by Robert Graves

Dew-drop and Diamond

 The difference between you and her
(whom I to you did once prefer)
Is clear enough to settle:
She like a diamond shone, but you
Shine like an early drop of dew
Poised on a red rose petal.
The dew-drop carries in its eye Mountain and forest, sea and sky, With every change of weather; Contrariwise, a diamond splits The prospect into idle bits That none can piece together.


by Edward Lear

There was an old person of Nice

There was an old person of Nice,
Whose associates were usually Geese.
They walked out together in all sorts of weather,
That affable person of Nice!


by Edward Lear

There was a young person of Ayr

There was a young person of Ayr,
Whose head was remarkably square:
On the top, in fine weather, she wore a gold feather;
Which dazzled the people of Ayr.