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Famous Sprinkling Poems by Famous Poets

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

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by Thomas, Dylan
...g the gate, like a dumb, numb thunder-storm of white, torn Christmas cards."

"Were there postmen then, too?"
"With sprinkling eyes and wind-cherried noses, on spread, frozen feet they crunched up to the doors and
mittened on them manfully. But all that the children could hear was a ringing of bells."
"You mean that the postman went rat-a-tat-tat and the doors rang?"
"I mean that the bells the children could hear were inside them."
"I only hear thunder sometim...Read more of this...

by Swift, Jonathan
Brisk Susan whips her Linen from the Rope, 
While the first drizzling Show'r is born aslope, 
Such is that Sprinkling which some careless Quean 
Flirts on you from her Mop, but not so clean. 
You fly, invoke the Gods; then turning, stop 
To rail; she singing, still whirls on her Mop. 
Not yet, the Dust had shun'd th'unequal Strife, 
But aided by the Wind, fought still for Life; 
And wafted with its Foe by violent Gust, 
'Twas doubtful which was Rain, and ...Read more of this...

by Keats, John
...and clear rills 
That for themselves a cooling covert make 
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake, 
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms: 
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms 
We have imagined for the mighty dead; 
An endless fountain of immortal drink, 
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink....Read more of this...

by Kay, Jackie
...Ye Banks And Braes
Planted a bush of roses
Read from the Bible, the book of Job
Cursed myself digging a pit for my baby
Sprinkling ash from the grate.

Late that same night
She came in by the window
My baby Lazarus
And suckled at my breast....Read more of this...

by Robinson, Mary Darby
When ORPHEUS, by his magic song, 
Taught trees, and flinty rocks to move. 

"Oft shall the pensive MUSE be found, 
Sprinkling with flow'rs his mould'ring clay; 
While soft-eyed SORROW wand'ring round, 
Shall pluck intruding weeds away." 

Sad victim of the sordid mind, 
That doom'd THEE to an early grave; 
Ne'er shall HER breast that pity find, 
Which thy forgiveness nobly gave! 

Thou, who, when SORROW'S icy hand 
Forbad the healthsome pulse to flow, 
Obedient to HE...Read more of this...

by Keats, John; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

 Nor do we merely feel these essences
For one short hour; no, even as the trees
That whisper round a temple becom...Read more of this...

by Gregory, Rg
...salt into surly wounds
(we won those wars and neatly fucked ourselves)
eden at suez a jacked-up piece of wool
macmillan sprinkling cliches where the black
blood boils (the ashes of his kind) - home
as wan as godot (shagged by birth) wilson
for whom the wind blew sharply once or twice
sailing eastwards in the giant's stetson hat
saving jims from the red long john
   give me
not england but the world with england in it
with people as promiscuous as planes (the colours
shuffled)...Read more of this...

by Robinson, Mary Darby
...d rill 
Since jocund HEALTH delights not there
To greet my heart:­no more I view, 
With sparkling eye, the silv'ry dew 
Sprinkling May's tears upon the folded rose, 
As low it droops its young and blushing head, 
Press'd by grey twilight to its mossy bed: 
No more I lave amidst the tide, 
Or bound along the tufted grove, 
Or o'er enamel'd meadows rove, 
Where, on Zephyr's pinions, glide
Salubrious airs that waft the nymph repose. 

Lightly o'er the yellow heath
Steals thy...Read more of this...

by Neruda, Pablo
crystal of the sea, oblivion
of the waves.

And then on every table
in the world,
we see your piquant
vital light
our food. Preserver
of the ancient
holds of ships,
the high seas,
of the unknown, shifting
byways of the foam.
Dust of the sea, in you
the tongue receives a kiss
from ocean night:
taste imparts to every seasoned
dish your ocean essence;
the smallest,
wave from the saltcellar
reveals ...Read more of this...

by Watts, Isaac
...forms can make me clean
The leprosy lies deep within.

No bleeding bird, nor bleeding beast,
Nor hyssop branch, nor sprinkling priest,
Nor running brook, nor flood, nor sea,
Can wash the dismal stain away.

Jesus, my God, thy blood alone
Hath power sufficient to atone;
Thy blood can make me white as snow
No Jewish types could cleanse me so.

While guilt disturbs and breaks my peace,
Nor flesh nor soul hath rest or ease;
Lord, let me hear thy pard'ning voice,
And m...Read more of this...

by Robinson, Mary Darby
...tingale such woes as mine
Shall sadly sing; as twilight's curtains spread,
There shall the branching lotos widely wave,
Sprinkling soft show'rs upon the lily's head,
Sweet drooping emblem for a lover's grave!
And there shall Phaon pearls of pity shed,
To gem the vanquish'd heart he scorn'd to save!...Read more of this...

by Lowell, Amy
...ater-cart crawls slowly on the other side of 
the way. It is green and gay
with new paint, and rumbles contentedly, sprinkling clear water 
the white dust. Clear zigzagging water, which smells 
of tulips and narcissus.
The thickening branches make a pink `grisaille' 
against the blue sky.
Whoop! The clouds go dashing at each 
other and sheer away just in time.
Whoop! And a man's hat careers down the street in front 
of the white dust,
leaps into the b...Read more of this...

by Walcott, Derek
...bjects as 
"Herefords at Sunset in the valley of the Wye." 
The mountain water that fell white from the mill wheel 
sprinkling like petals from the star-apple trees, 
and all of the windmills and sugar mills moved by mules 
on the treadmill of Monday to Monday, would repeat 
in tongues of water and wind and fire, in tongues 
of Mission School pickaninnies, like rivers remembering 
their source, Parish Trelawny, Parish St David, Parish 
St Andrew, the names afflicting the ...Read more of this...

by Hugo, Victor
...nt coquetting 
 Quite forgetting 
 How the hours wing their flight. 
 As she lists the showery tinkling 
 Of the sprinkling 
 By her wanton curvets made; 
 Never pauses she to think 
 Of the brink 
 Where her wrapper white is laid. 
 To the harvest-fields the while, 
 In long file, 
 Speed her sisters' lively band, 
 Like a flock of birds in flight 
 Streaming light, 
 Dancing onward hand in hand. 
 And they're singing, every one, 
 As they run 
 Thi...Read more of this...

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