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Famous Slack Poems by Famous Poets

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

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by Whitman, Walt
...O ME, man of slack faith so long! 
Standing aloof—denying portions so long; 
Only aware to-day of compact, all-diffused truth; 
Discovering to-day there is no lie, or form of lie, and can be none, but grows as
 inevitably
 upon
 itself as the truth does upon itself, 
Or as any law of the earth, or any natural production of the earth does.

(This is curious, and may n...Read more of this...



by Sidney, Sir Philip
...s they that being poysond poyson know. 
XVII 

His mother deere, Cupid offended late,
Because that Mars, growne slacker in her loue,
With pricking shot he did not throughly moue
To keepe the place of their first louing state.
The boy refusde for fear of Marses hate,
Who threatned stripes if he his wrath did proue;
But she, in chafe, him from her lap did shoue,
Brake bowe, brake shafts, while Cupid weeping sate;
Till that his grandame Nature, pitying it,
Of...Read more of this...

by Tennyson, Alfred Lord
...Balin answered him 
'Old fabler, these be fancies of the churl, 
Look to thy woodcraft,' and so leaving him, 
Now with slack rein and careless of himself, 
Now with dug spur and raving at himself, 
Now with droopt brow down the long glades he rode; 
So marked not on his right a cavern-chasm 
Yawn over darkness, where, nor far within, 
The whole day died, but, dying, gleamed on rocks 
Roof-pendent, sharp; and others from the floor, 
Tusklike, arising, made that mouth of night...Read more of this...

by Plath, Sylvia
...dissolve a bloody dye:
The ersatz petals drip, and they drip red.

Another kind of redness bothers me:
The day your slack sail drank my sister's breath
The flat sea purpled like that evil cloth
My mother unrolled at your last homecoming.
I borrow the silts of an old tragedy.
The truth is, one late October, at my birth-cry
A scorpion stung its head, an ill-starred thing;
My mother dreamed you face down in the sea.

The stony actors poise and pause for breath.Read more of this...

by Campbell, Thomas
..., and clasp'd him to his soul.

"Yes! thou recallest my pride of years, for then
The bowstring of my spirit was not slack,
When, spite of woods and floods, and ambush'd men,
I bore thee like the quiver on my back,
Fleet as the whirlwind hurries on the rack;
Nor foreman then, nor cougar's crouch I fear'd,
For I was strong as mountain cataract:
And dost thou not remember how we cheer'd,
Upon the last hill-top, when white men's huts appear'd?


Then welcome be my death-song,...Read more of this...



by Bryant, William Cullen
...is warned, and fears to step aside.
Thou sett'st between the ruffian and his crime
Thy ghastly countenance, and his slack hand
Drops the drawn knife. But, oh, most fearfully
Dost thou show forth Heaven's justice, when thy shafts
Drink up the ebbing spirit--then the hard
Of heart and violent of hand restores
The treasure to the friendless wretch he wronged.
Then from the writhing bosom thou dost pluck
The guilty secret; lips, for ages sealed,
Are faithless to the d...Read more of this...

by St Vincent Millay, Edna
...now no more."
There, there it dangles,—where's the little truth
That can for long keep footing under that
When its slack syllables tighten to a thought?
Here, let me write it down! I wish to see
Just how a thing like that will look on paper!

"I had you and I have you now no more."

O little words, how can you run so straight
Across the page, beneath the weight you bear?
How can you fall apart, whom such a theme
Has bound together, and hereafter aid
In trivial expres...Read more of this...

by Byron, George (Lord)
...se,
The Cossack prince rubbed down his horse,
And made for him a leafy bed,
And smoothed his fetlocks and his mane,
And slacked his girth, and stripped his rein, 
And joyed to see how well he fed;
For until now he had the dread
His wearied courser might refuse
To browse beneath the midnight dews:
But he was hardy as his lord,
And little cared for bed and board;
But spirited and docile too, 
Whate'er was to be done, would do.
Shaggy and swift, and strong of limb,
All Tarta...Read more of this...

by Trumbull, John
...nds;
But once in want, by foes dismay'd,
May advertise them, stol'n or stray'd.
Thus ere Great-Britain's force grew slack,
She gain'd that aid she did not lack;
But now in dread, imploring pity,
All hear unmoved her dol'rous ditty;
Allegiance wand'ring turns astray,
And Faith grows dim for lack of pay.
In vain she tries, by new inventions,
Fear, falsehood, flatt'ry, threats and pensions;
Or sends Commiss'ners with credentials
Of promises and penitentials.
As, for ...Read more of this...

by Milton, John
...erhaps, thus far removed, 
Not mind us not offending, satisfied 
With what is punished; whence these raging fires 
Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames. 
Our purer essence then will overcome 
Their noxious vapour; or, inured, not feel; 
Or, changed at length, and to the place conformed 
In temper and in nature, will receive 
Familiar the fierce heat; and, void of pain, 
This horror will grow mild, this darkness light; 
Besides what hope the never-ending fligh...Read more of this...

by Milton, John
...t sea north-east winds blow 
Sabean odours from the spicy shore 
Of Araby the blest; with such delay 
Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league 
Cheered with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles: 
So entertained those odorous sweets the Fiend, 
Who came their bane; though with them better pleased 
Than Asmodeus with the fishy fume 
That drove him, though enamoured, from the spouse 
Of Tobit's son, and with a vengeance sent 
From Media post to Egypt, there fast bo...Read more of this...

by Milton, John
...e, amazed, 
Astonied stood and blank, while horrour chill 
Ran through his veins, and all his joints relaxed; 
From his slack hand the garland wreathed for Eve 
Down dropt, and all the faded roses shed: 
Speechless he stood and pale, till thus at length 
First to himself he inward silence broke. 
O fairest of Creation, last and best 
Of all God's works, Creature in whom excelled 
Whatever can to sight or thought be formed, 
Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet! 
How art ...Read more of this...

by Browning, Robert
...leaned there awhile,
And sat out my singing,---one arm round the tent-prop, to raise
His bent head, and the other hung slack---till I touched on the praise
I foresaw from all men in all time, to the man patient there;
And thus ended, the harp falling forward. Then first I was 'ware
That he sat, as I say, with my head just above his vast knees
Which were thrust out on each side around me, like oak-roots which please
To encircle a lamb when it slumbers. I looked up to ...Read more of this...

by Lawrence, D. H.
...t the trough before
me.

He reached down from a fissure in the earth-wall in the gloom
And trailed his yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied down, over the edge of
the stone trough
And rested his throat upon the stone bottom,
And where the water had dripped from the tap, in a small clearness,
He sipped with his straight mouth,
Softly drank through his straight gums, into his slack long body,
Silently.

Someone was before me at my water-trough,
And I, like a second comer...Read more of this...

by Stevens, Wallace
...unwielded from disdain. 
304 His western voyage ended and began. 
305 The torment of fastidious thought grew slack, 
306 Another, still more bellicose, came on. 
307 He, therefore, wrote his prolegomena, 
308 And, being full of the caprice, inscribed 
309 Commingled souvenirs and prophecies. 
310 He made a singular collation. Thus: 
311 The natives of the rain are rainy men. 
312 Although they paint effulgent, azure lakes, 
313 And April hil...Read more of this...

by Bridges, Robert Seymour
...leetness from my goal which holds me back;
Wherefore my feet go out of step with time,
My very grasp of life is old and slack,
And even my passion falters in my rhyme. 

37
At times with hurried hoofs and scattering dust
I race by field or highway, and my horse
Spare not, but urge direct in headlong course
Unto some fair far hill that gain I must:
But near arrived the vision soon mistrust,
Rein in, and stand as one who sees the source
Of strong illusion, shaming thought t...Read more of this...

by Lowell, Amy
...racks.
Paris is full of the galloping of horses and the knocking of hammers.
"Hullo! Friend Martin, is business slack
That you are in the street this morning? Don't turn your 
back
And scuttle into your shop like a rabbit to its hole.
I've just been taking a stroll.
The stinking Cossacks are bivouacked all up and down the Champs 
Elysees.
I can't get the smell of them out of my nostrils.
Dirty fellows, who don't believe in frills
Like washing. Ah, ...Read more of this...

by Wordsworth, William
...out of humour.   But then he is a horse that thinks!  And when he thinks his pace is slack;  Now, though he knows poor Johnny well,  Yet for his life he cannot tell  What he has got upon his back.   So through the moonlight lanes they go,  And far into the moonlight dale,  And by the church, and o'er the down,  To bring a doctor from the ...Read more of this...

by Dryden, John
...nciple was all the same; 
But a gross cheat betrays his partners' game. 
Besides, their pace was formal, grave, and slack; 
His nimble wit outran the heavy pack. 
Yet still he found hs fortune at a stay, 
Whole droves of blockheads choking up his way; 
They took, but not rewarded, his advice; 
Villain and wit exact a double price. 
Power was his aim; but thrown from that pretence, 
The wretch turned loyal in his own defence, 
And malice reconciled him to his Princ...Read more of this...

by Harrison, Tony
...alleries once ran beneath this plot,
causes the distinguished dead to drop 
into the rabblement of bone and rot,
shored slack, crushed shale, smashed prop.

Wordsworth built church organs, Byron tanned
luggage cowhide in the age of steam,
and knew their place of rest before the land
caves in on the lowest worked-out seam.

This graveyard on the brink of Beeston Hill's
the place I may well rest if there's a spot
under the rose roots and the daffodils
by which dad digni...Read more of this...

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Book: Shattered Sighs