Famous Singers Poems by Famous Poets

These are examples of famous Singers poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous singers poems. These examples illustrate what a famous singers poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).

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The Woman And The Angel

by Robert William Service
 An angel was tired of heaven, as he lounged in the golden street;
His halo was tilted sideways, and his harp lay mute at his feet;
So the Master stooped in His pity, and gave him a pass to go,
For the space of a moon, to the earth-world, to mix with the men below.

He doffed his celestial garments, scarce waiting to...Read more of this...

Romulus and Remus

by Rudyard Kipling
 Oh, little did the Wolf-Child care--
 When first he planned his home, 
What City should arise and bear
 The weight and state of Rome.

A shiftless, westward-wandering tramp,
 Checked by the Tiber flood, 
He reared a wall around his camp
 Of uninspired mud.

But when his brother leaped the Wall
 And mocked its height and make,
He guessed the future of it...Read more of this...

The Bards Of Olden Time

by Friedrich von Schiller
 Say, where is now that glorious race, where now are the singers
Who, with the accents of life, listening nations enthralled,
Sung down from heaven the gods, and sung mankind up to heaven,
And who the spirit bore up high on the pinions of song?
Ah! the singers still live; the actions only are wanting,
And to awake the glad harp, only a welcoming...Read more of this...

Her Initals

by Thomas Hardy
 UPON a poet's page I wrote
Of old two letters of her name;
Part seemed she of the effulgent thought
Whence that high singer's rapture came.
--When now I turn the leaf the same
Immortal light illumes the lay
But from the letters of her name
The radiance has died away....Read more of this...

Faces

by Walt Whitman
 1
SAUNTERING the pavement, or riding the country by-road—lo! such faces! 
Faces of friendship, precision, caution, suavity, ideality; 
The spiritual, prescient face—the always welcome, common, benevolent face, 
The face of the singing of music—the grand faces of natural lawyers and judges, broad
 at
 the
 back-top; 
The faces of hunters and fishers, bulged at the brows—the shaved blanch’d faces
 of
 orthodox...Read more of this...

Apostroph

by Walt Whitman
 O MATER! O fils! 
O brood continental! 
O flowers of the prairies! 
O space boundless! O hum of mighty products! 
O you teeming cities! O so invincible, turbulent, proud!
O race of the future! O women! 
O fathers! O you men of passion and the storm! 
O native power only! O beauty! 
O yourself! O God! O divine average! 
O...Read more of this...

Rita And The Rifle

by Mahmoud Darwish
 Between Rita and my eyes
There is a rifle
And whoever knows Rita
Kneels and plays
To the divinity in those honey-colored eyes
And I kissed Rita
When she was young
And I remember how she approached
And how my arm covered the loveliest of braids
And I remember Rita
The way a sparrow remembers its stream 
Ah, Rita
Between us there are a million sparrows and images 
And many...Read more of this...

Mother Earth

by Henry Van Dyke
 Mother of all the high-strung poets and singers departed,
Mother of all the grass that weaves over their graves the glory of the field,
Mother of all the manifold forms of life, deep-bosomed, patient, impassive,
Silent brooder and nurse of lyrical joys and sorrows!
Out of thee, yea, surely out of the fertile depth below thy breast,
Issued in some strange way, thou lying...Read more of this...

Portrait Of An Old Woman On The College Tavern Wall

by Anne Sexton
 Oh down at the tavern
the children are singing
around their round table
and around me still.
Did you hear what it said?
I only said
how there is a pewter urn
pinned to the tavern wall,
as old as old is able
to be and be there still.
I said, the poets are tere
I hear them singing and lying
around their round table
and around me still.
Across the room is...Read more of this...

...And the Old Women Gathered (The Gospel Singers)

by Mari Evans
and the old women gathered 
and sang His praises 
standing 
resolutely together 
like supply sergeants who 
have seen 
everything 
and are still 
Regular Army: It 
was fierce and 
not melodic and 
although we ran 
the sound of it 
stayed in our ears . . ....Read more of this...

Night Movement—New York

by Carl Sandburg
 IN the night, when the sea-winds take the city in their arms,
And cool the loud streets that kept their dust noon and afternoon;
In the night, when the sea-birds call to the lights of the city,
The lights that cut on the skyline their name of a city;
In the night, when the trains and wagons start from a long way off
For...Read more of this...

Mater Triumphalis

by Algernon Charles Swinburne
 Mother of man's time-travelling generations,
Breath of his nostrils, heartblood of his heart,
God above all Gods worshipped of all nations,
Light above light, law beyond law, thou art.

Thy face is as a sword smiting in sunder
Shadows and chains and dreams and iron things;
The sea is dumb before thy face, the thunder
Silent, the skies are narrower than thy wings.

Angels and Gods, spirit...Read more of this...

Indications The

by Walt Whitman
 THE indications, and tally of time; 
Perfect sanity shows the master among philosophs; 
Time, always without flaw, indicates itself in parts; 
What always indicates the poet, is the crowd of the pleasant company of singers, and their
 words; 
The words of the singers are the hours or minutes of the light or dark—but the words
 of
 the
 maker of...Read more of this...

Hiawathas Wedding-Feast

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
 You shall hear how Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
How the handsome Yenadizze 
Danced at Hiawatha's wedding; 
How the gentle Chibiabos, 
He the sweetest of musicians, 
Sang his songs of love and longing; 
How Iagoo, the great boaster, 
He the marvellous story-teller, 
Told his tales of strange adventure, 
That the feast might be more joyous, 
That the time might pass more gayly, 
And...Read more of this...

A Madrigal

by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Dream days of fond delight and hours
[Pg 288]As rosy-hued as dawn, are mine.
Love's drowsy wine,
Brewed from the heart of Passion flowers,
Flows softly o'er my lips
And save thee, all the world is in eclipse.
There were no light if thou wert not;
The sun would be too sad to shine,
And all the line
Of hours from dawn would be a blot;
And Night...Read more of this...

What Has Happened?

by Bertolt Brecht
 The industrialist is having his aeroplane serviced.
The priest is wondering what he said in his sermon eight weeks ago
about tithes.
The generals are putting on civvies and looking like bank clerks.
Public officials are getting friendly.
The policeman points out the way to the man in the cloth cap.
The landlord comes to see whether the water supply is working.
The journalists write the...Read more of this...

Back to the Border

by Adela Florence Cory Nicolson
   Alas! alas! this wasted Night
   With all its Jasmin-scented air,
   Its thousand stars, serenely bright!
   I lie alone, and long for you,
   Long for your Champa-scented hair,
   Your tranquil eyes of twilight hue;

   Long for the close-curved, delicate lips
   —Their sinuous sweetness laid...Read more of this...

The Song of Australia

by Henry Lawson
 The centuries found me to nations unknown – 
My people have crowned me and made me a throne; 
My royal regalia is love, truth, and light – 
A girl called Australia – I've come to my right. 

Though no fields of conquest grew red at my birth, 
My dead were the noblest and bravest on earth; 
Their strong sons...Read more of this...

Poetry

by Don Paterson
 In the same way that the mindless diamond keeps
one spark of the planet's early fires
trapped forever in its net of ice,
it's not love's later heat that poetry holds,
but the atom of the love that drew it forth
from the silence: so if the bright coal of his love
begins to smoulder, the poet hears his voice
suddenly forced, like a bar-room singer's...Read more of this...

The Ballad of the Kings Mercy

by Rudyard Kipling
 Abdhur Rahman, the Durani Chief, of him is the story told.
 His mercy fills the Khyber hills -- his grace is manifold;
 He has taken toll of the North and the South -- his glory reacheth far,
 And they tell the tale of his charity from Balkh to Kandahar.

Before the old Peshawur Gate, where Kurd and Kaffir meet,
The Governor...Read more of this...

Bohemia

by Dorothy Parker
 Authors and actors and artists and such
Never know nothing, and never know much.
Sculptors and singers and those of their kidney
Tell their affairs from Seattle to Sydney.
Playwrights and poets and such horses' necks
Start off from anywhere, end up at sex.
Diarists, critics, and similar roe
Never say nothing, and never say no.
People Who Do Things exceed my endurance;
God, for a man that...Read more of this...

Wandering Singers

by Sarojini Naidu
 WHERE the voice of the wind calls our wandering feet, 
Through echoing forest and echoing street, 
With lutes in our hands ever-singing we roam, 
All men are our kindred, the world is our home. 
Our lays are of cities whose lustre is shed, 
The laughter and beauty of women long dead; 
The sword of old battles, the crown of...Read more of this...

Phoebus with Admetus

by George Meredith
 WHEN by Zeus relenting the mandate was revoked, 
 Sentencing to exile the bright Sun-God, 
Mindful were the ploughmen of who the steer had yoked, 
 Who: and what a track show'd the upturn'd sod! 
Mindful were the shepherds, as now the noon severe 
 Bent a burning eyebrow to brown evetide, 
How the rustic flute drew the silver...Read more of this...

Christmass

by John Clare
 Christmass is come and every hearth
Makes room to give him welcome now
Een want will dry its tears in mirth
And crown him wi a holly bough
Tho tramping neath a winters sky
Oer snow track paths and ryhmey stiles
The huswife sets her spining bye
And bids him welcome wi her smiles
Each house is swept the day before
And windows stuck wi evergreens
The snow is...Read more of this...

Muse

by Alexander Pushkin
 In my youth's years, she loved me, I am sure.
The flute of seven pipes she gave in my tenure
And harked to me with smile -- without speed,
Along the ringing holes of the reed,
I got to play with my non-artful fingers
The peaceful songs of Phrygian village singers,
And the important hymns, that gods to mortals bade.
>From morn till night in oaks'...Read more of this...

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