Famous Short Wilderness Poems
Famous Short Wilderness Poems. Short Wilderness Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Wilderness short poems
by
Dejan Stojanovic
There is a moonlight note
In the Moonlight Sonata;
There is a thunder note
In an angry sky.
Sound unbound by nature
Becomes bounded by art.
There is no competition of sounds
Between a nightingale and a violin.
Nature rewards and punishes
By offering unpredictable ways;
Art is apotheosis;
Often, the complaint of beauty.
Nature is an outcry,
Unpolished truth;
The art—a euphemism—
Tamed wilderness.
by
Emily Dickinson
Had I not seen the Sun
I could have borne the shade
But Light a newer Wilderness
My Wilderness has made --
by
Allen Ginsberg
Now mind is clear
as a cloudless sky.
Time then to make a
home in wilderness.
What have I done but
wander with my eyes
in the trees? So I
will build: wife,
family, and seek
for neighbors.
Or I
perish of lonesomeness
or want of food or
lightning or the bear
(must tame the hart
and wear the bear).
And maybe make an image
of my wandering, a little
image—shrine by the
roadside to signify
to traveler that I live
here in the wilderness
awake and at home.
by
Ralph Waldo Emerson
"May be true what I had heard,
Earth's a howling wilderness
Truculent with fraud and force,"
Said I, strolling through the pastures,
And along the riverside.
Caught among the blackberry vines,
Feeding on the Ethiops sweet,
Pleasant fancies overtook me:
I said, "What influence me preferred
Elect to dreams thus beautiful?"
The vines replied, "And didst thou deem
No wisdom to our berries went?"
by
Wallace Stevens
I placed a jar in Tennessee,
And round it was, upon a hill.
It made the slovenly wilderness
Surround that hill.
The wilderness rose up to it,
And sprawled around, no longer wild.
The jar was round upon the ground
And tall and of a port in air.
It took dominion every where.
The jar was gray and bare.
It did not give of bird or bush,
Like nothing else in Tennessee.
by
Emily Dickinson
For this -- accepted Breath --
Through it -- compete with Death --
The fellow cannot touch this Crown --
By it -- my title take --
Ah, what a royal sake
To my necessity -- stooped down!
No Wilderness -- can be
Where this attendeth me --
No Desert Noon --
No fear of frost to come
Haunt the perennial bloom --
But Certain June!
Get Gabriel -- to tell -- the royal syllable --
Get Saints -- with new -- unsteady tongue --
To say what trance below
Most like their glory show --
Fittest the Crown!
by
Emily Dickinson
Strong Draughts of Their Refreshing Minds
To drink -- enables Mine
Through Desert or the Wilderness
As bore it Sealed Wine --
To go elastic -- Or as One
The Camel's trait -- attained --
How powerful the Stimulus
Of an Hermetic Mind --
by
G K Chesterton
A Book of verses underneath the bough,
Provided that the verses do not scan,
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and Thou,
Short-haired, all angles, looking like a man.
But let the wine be unfermented, Pale,
Of chemicals compounded, God knows how--
This were indeed the Prophet's Paradise,
O Paradise were Wilderness enow.
by
The Bible
Do not earnestly remember
The former things of the past,
Neither consider the things of old,
Following the same old paths
Behold, I am doing a new thing,
Do you not see it, nor understand?
It springs forth as rivers flowing
Through a desert and barren land
It makes a way in the wilderness
Refreshing those that honour me,
So do not be looking back on the past,
But look forward to what can be.Scripture Poem © Copyright Of M.S.Lowndes
by
Li Po
The old gardens of Kusu Terrace
are a wilderness, yet the willows
that remain still put out new branches;
lasses gathering water chestnuts
sing so loudly and with such
clarity, that the feeling of spring
returns to us; but where once stood
the palace of the King of Wu, now
only the moon over the
west river once shone on
the lovely ladies there.
by
Emily Dickinson
There is a finished feeling
Experienced at Graves --
A leisure of the Future --
A Wilderness of Size.
By Death's bold Exhibition
Preciser what we are
And the Eternal function
Enabled to infer.
by
Vachel Lindsay
Would I might rouse the Lincoln in you all,
That which is gendered in the wilderness
From lonely prairies and God's tenderness.
Imperial soul, star of a weedy stream,
Born where the ghosts of buffaloes still dream,
Whose spirit hoof-beats storm above his grave,
Above that breast of earth and prairie-fire —
Fire that freed the slave.
by
Paul Laurence Dunbar
Storm and strife and stress,
Lost in a wilderness,
Groping to find a way,
Forth to the haunts of day
Sudden a vista peeps,
Out of the tangled deeps,
Only a point—the ray
But at the end is day.
Dark is the dawn and chill,
Daylight is on the hill,
Night is the flitting breath,
Day rides the hills of death.
by
Emily Dickinson
This docile one inter
While we who dare to live
Arraign the sunny brevity
That sparkled to the Grave.
On her departing span
No wilderness remain
As dauntless in the House of Death
As if it were her own --
by
Emily Dickinson
Like eyes that looked on Wastes --
Incredulous of Ought
But Blank -- and steady Wilderness --
Diversified by Night --
Just Infinites of Nought --
As far as it could see --
So looked the face I looked upon --
So looked itself -- on Me --
I offered it no Help --
Because the Cause was Mine --
The Misery a Compact
As hopeless -- as divine --
Neither -- would be absolved --
Neither would be a Queen
Without the Other -- Therefore --
We perish -- tho' We reign --
by
Emily Dickinson
The Auctioneer of Parting
His "Going, going, gone"
Shouts even from the Crucifix,
And brings his Hammer down --
He only sells the Wilderness,
The prices of Despair
Range from a single human Heart
To Two -- not any more --
by
Emily Dickinson
I think the Hemlock likes to stand
Upon a Marge of Snow --
It suits his own Austerity --
And satisfies an awe
That men, must slake in Wilderness --
And in the Desert -- cloy --
An instinct for the Hoar, the Bald --
Lapland's -- necessity --
The Hemlock's nature thrives -- on cold --
The Gnash of Northern winds
Is sweetest nutriment -- to him --
His best Norwegian Wines --
To satin Races -- he is nought --
But Children on the Don,
Beneath his Tabernacles, play,
And Dnieper Wrestlers, run.
by
Anne Killigrew
THe Sun's my Fire, when it does shine,
The hollow Spring's my Cave of Wine,
The Rocks and Woods afford me Meat;
This Lamb and I on one Dish eat:
The neighbouring Herds my Garments send,
My Pallet the kind Earth doth lend:
Excess and Grandure I decline,
M'Associates onely are Divine.
by
Mother Goose
The man in the wilderness Asked meHow many strawberries Grew in the sea.I answered him As I thought good,As many as red herrings Grew in the wood.
by
Robert Herrick
Charms, that call down the moon from out her sphere,
On this sick youth work your enchantments here!
Bind up his senses with your numbers, so
As to entrance his pain, or cure his woe.
Fall gently, gently, and a-while him keep
Lost in the civil wilderness of sleep:
That done, then let him, dispossess'd of pain,
Like to a slumbering bride, awake again.
by
Carl Sandburg
JOHN BROWN’S body under the morning stars.
Six feet of dust under the morning stars.
And a panorama of war performs itself
Over the six-foot stage of circling armies.
Room for Gettysburg, Wilderness, Chickamauga,
On a six-foot stage of dust.
by
Emily Dickinson
From Us She wandered now a Year,
Her tarrying, unknown,
If Wilderness prevent her feet
Or that Ethereal Zone
No eye hath seen and lived
We ignorant must be --
We only know what time of Year
We took the Mystery.