Famous Smock Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Aftermath

...rodigious injuries
Glut these hunters after an old meat,
Blood-spoor of the austere tragedies.

Mother Medea in a green smock
Moves humbly as any housewife through
Her ruined apartments, taking stock
Of charred shoes, the sodden upholstery:
Cheated of the pyre and the rack,
The crowd sucks her last tear and turns away....Read more of this...
by Plath, Sylvia


EPISTLE II: TO A LADY (Of the Characters of Women)

...ttracts each light gay meteor of a Spark, 
Agrees as ill with Rufa studying Locke, 
As Sappho's diamonds with her dirty smock; 
Or Sappho at her toilet's greasy task, 
With Sappho fragrant at an evening Masque: 
So morning Insects that in muck begun, 
Shine, buzz, and flyblow in the setting sun. 

How soft is Silia! fearful to offend; 
The Frail one's advocate, the Weak one's friend: 
To her, Calista prov'd her conduct nice; 
And good Simplicius asks of her advice. 
Sudden, s...Read more of this...
by Pope, Alexander

Humanitad

...d scarlet berries dot the leafless haw.

O happy field! and O thrice happy tree!
Soon will your queen in daisy-flowered smock
And crown of flower-de-luce trip down the lea,
Soon will the lazy shepherds drive their flock
Back to the pasture by the pool, and soon
Through the green leaves will float the hum of murmuring bees at
noon.

Soon will the glade be bright with bellamour,
The flower which wantons love, and those sweet nuns
Vale-lilies in their snowy vestiture
Will tell t...Read more of this...
by Wilde, Oscar

In Mind

...e's in my mind a woman
of innocence, unadorned but

fair-featured and smelling of
apples or grass. She wears

a utopian smock or shift, her hair
is light brown and smooth, and she

is kind and very clean without
ostentation-

but she has
no imagination

And there's a
turbulent moon-ridden girl

or old woman, or both,
dressed in opals and rags, feathers

and torn taffeta,
who knows strange songs

but she is not kind....Read more of this...
by Levertov, Denise

In The New Sun

...irst love, of childhood, 
the fingers held to the nose, 
or hours while the clock hummed. 

The fat woman in the orange smock 
places tiny greens at mouth 
and tail as though she remembered 
or yearned instead for forests, deep floors 
of needles, and the hushed breath. 

* 

Blue nosed cannisters 
as fat as barrels silently 
slipping by. "Nitro," he says. 
On the roof he shows me 
where Reuban lay down 
to ****-off and never woke. 
"We're takin little whiffs 
all the time." ...Read more of this...
by Levine, Philip


Jinny the Just

...Hague in her slippers and hair as the mode is, 
At Paris all falbalow'd fine as a goddess, 
And at censuring London in smock sleeves and bodice. 

She order'd affairs that few people could tell 
In what part about her that mixture did dwell 
Of Frow, or Mistress, or Mademoiselle. 

For her surname and race let the herald's e'en answer; 
Her own proper worth was enough to advance her, 
And he who liked her, little value her grandsire. 

But from what house so ever her lineage...Read more of this...
by Prior, Matthew

Like A Scarf

...ay cautiously, never taking my eyes off of him.
His right eyelid was twitching guiltily, or at least anxiously,
and his smock flapping slightly in the wind.
Several members of our party were mingling with the nurses
down by the duck pond, and my grip on the situation
was loosening, the planks in my picnic platform were rotting.
I was thinking about the potato salad in an unstable environment.
A weeping spell was about to overtake me.
I was very close to howling and gnashing t...Read more of this...
by Taylor, Edward

Like A Scarf

...ay cautiously, never taking my eyes off of him.
His right eyelid was twitching guiltily, or at least anxiously,
and his smock flapping slightly in the wind.
Several members of our party were mingling with the nurses
down by the duck pond, and my grip on the situation
was loosening, the planks in my picnic platform were rotting.
I was thinking about the potato salad in an unstable environment.
A weeping spell was about to overtake me.
I was very close to howling and gnashing t...Read more of this...
by Tate, James

Mrs Frances Hariss Petition

...efore all the money I have, which, God knows, is a very small stock,
I keep in my pocket, tied about my middle, next my smock.
So when I went to put up my purse, as God would have it, my smock was unripped,
And instead of putting it into my pocket, down it slipped;
Then the bell rung, and I went down to put my lady to bed;
And, God knows, I thought my money was as safe as my maidenhead.
So, when I came up again, I found my pocket feel very light;
But when I searched, and miss...Read more of this...
by Swift, Jonathan

Purgatory

...he womb 
although the first babe's bottom's not yet dry. 
She scrolls a weekly letter to her Nurse 
who dares to send a smock through Balthasar, 
and once a month, his father posts a purse. 
News from Verona? Always news of war. 
Such sour years it takes to right this wrong! 
The fifth act runs unconscionably long....Read more of this...
by Kumin, Maxine

The Bee Meeting

...ancient hats.

I am nude as a chicken neck, does nobody love me?
Yes, here is the secretary of bees with her white shop smock,
Buttoning the cuffs at my wrists and the slit from my neck to my knees.
Now I am milkweed silk, the bees will not notice.
They will not smell my fear, my fear, my fear.

Which is the rector now, is it that man in black?
Which is the midwife, is that her blue coat?
Everybody is nodding a square black head, they are knights in visors,
Breastplates of ch...Read more of this...
by Plath, Sylvia

The Flowers

...All the names I know from nurse: 
Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse, 
Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock, 
And the Lady Hollyhock. 

Fairy places, fairy things, 
Fairy woods where the wild bee wings, 
Tiny trees for tiny dames-- 
These must all be fairy names! 

Tiny woods below whose boughs 
Shady fairies weave a house; 
Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme, 
Where the braver fairies climb! 

Fair are grown-up people's trees, 
But the fairest woods are these; 
...Read more of this...
by Stevenson, Robert Louis

The Friars Tale

...mine intent," *polecat
Quoth this Sompnour, "for to repente me
For any thing that I have had of thee;
I would I had thy smock and every cloth."
"Now, brother," quoth the devil, "be not wroth;
Thy body and this pan be mine by right.
Thou shalt with me to helle yet tonight,
Where thou shalt knowen of our privity* *secrets
More than a master of divinity."

And with that word the foule fiend him hent.* *seized
Body and soul, he with the devil went,
Where as the Sompnours have the...Read more of this...
by Chaucer, Geoffrey

The Garden Of Eros

...r where the breeze
Kissed them too harshly, the small celandine,
That yellow-kirtled chorister of eve,
And lilac lady's-smock, - but let them bloom alone, and leave

Yon spired hollyhock red-crocketed
To sway its silent chimes, else must the bee,
Its little bellringer, go seek instead
Some other pleasaunce; the anemone
That weeps at daybreak, like a silly girl
Before her love, and hardly lets the butterflies unfurl

Their painted wings beside it, - bid it pine
In pale virgini...Read more of this...
by Wilde, Oscar

The Ladys Dressing Room

...ict survey
Of all the litter as it lay;
Whereof, to make the matter clear,
An inventory follows here.
And first a dirty smock appeared,
Beneath the arm-pits well besmeared.
Strephon, the rogue, displayed it wide
And turned it round on every side.
On such a point few words are best,
And Strephon bids us guess the rest;
And swears how damnably the men lie
In calling Celia sweet and cleanly.
Now listen while he next produces
The various combs for various uses,
Filled up with dir...Read more of this...
by Swift, Jonathan

The Millers Tale

...arm-cloth* eke as white as morning milk *apron
Upon her lendes*, full of many a gore**. *loins **plait
White was her smock*, and broider'd all before, *robe or gown
And eke behind, on her collar about
Of coal-black silk, within and eke without.
The tapes of her white volupere* *head-kerchief 
Were of the same suit of her collere;
Her fillet broad of silk, and set full high:
And sickerly* she had a likerous** eye. *certainly **lascivious
Full small y-pulled were her brow...Read more of this...
by Chaucer, Geoffrey

The Scholar Gypsy

...hepherds had met him on the Hurst in spring;
At some lone alehouse in the Berkshire moors,
On the warm ingle-bench, the smock-frocked boors
Had found him seated at their entering,

But, 'mid their drink and clatter, he would fly.
And I myself seem half to know thy looks,
And put the shepherds, wanderer! on thy trace;
And boys who in lone wheatfields scare the rooks
I ask if thou hast passed their quiet place;

Or in my boat I lie
Moored to the cool bank in the summer-heats,
'...Read more of this...
by Arnold, Matthew

The Wife of Baths Tale

...and contrarious:
They hate that their husbands loven aye."
He said, "A woman cast her shame away
When she cast off her smock;" and farthermo',
"A fair woman, but* she be chaste also, *except
Is like a gold ring in a sowe's nose.
Who coulde ween,* or who coulde suppose *think
The woe that in mine heart was, and the pine?* *pain
And when I saw that he would never fine* *finish
To readen on this cursed book all night,
All suddenly three leaves have I plight* *plucked
Out of his...Read more of this...
by Chaucer, Geoffrey

To Fine Grand

...mprese for you, at tilt.Item, your mistress' anagram, in your hilt.Item, your own, sewn in your mistress' smock.Item, an epitaph on my lord's cock, In most vile verses, and cost me more pain, Than had I made 'em good, to fit your vein. Forty things more, dear Grand, which you know true, For which, or pay me quickly, or I'll pay you....Read more of this...
by Jonson, Ben

You Doctor Martin

...they unlock
the doors and count us at the frozen gates
of dinner. The shibboleth is spoken
and we move to gravy in our smock
of smiles. We chew in rows, our plates
scratch and whine like chalk

in school. There are no knives
for cutting your throat. I make
moccasins all morning. At first my hands
kept empty, unraveled for the lives
they used to work. Now I learn to take
them back, each angry finger that demands
I mend what another will break

tomorrow. Of course, I love you;...Read more of this...
by Sexton, Anne

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