Famous Stock Poems by Famous Poets

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

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The Hermit Goes Up Attic

by Maxine Kumin
 Up attic, Lucas Harrison, God rest
his frugal bones, once kept a tidy account
by knifecut of some long-gone harvest.
The wood was new. The pitch ran down to blunt 
the year: 1811, the score: 10, he carved
into the center rafter to represent
his loves, beatings, losses, hours, or maybe
the butternuts that taxed his back and starved
the red squirrels higher up each scabbed...Read more of this...

On Receipt Of My Mothers Picture

by William Cowper
 Oh that those lips had language! Life has pass'd
With me but roughly since I heard thee last.
Those lips are thine--thy own sweet smiles I see,
The same that oft in childhood solaced me;
Voice only fails, else, how distinct they say,
"Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!"
The meek intelligence of those dear eyes
(Blest be the art that can immortalize,
The...Read more of this...

On Kileys Run

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 The roving breezes come and go 
On Kiley's Run, 
The sleepy river murmurs low, 
And far away one dimly sees 
Beyond the stretch of forest trees -- 
Beyond the foothills dusk and dun -- 
The ranges sleeping in the sun 
On Kiley's Run. 

'Tis many years since first I came 
To Kiley's Run, 
More years than I would care...Read more of this...

The Doctor Of The Heart

by Anne Sexton
 Take away your knowledge, Doktor.
It doesn't butter me up.

You say my heart is sick unto.
You ought to have more respect!

you with the goo on the suction cup.
You with your wires and electrodes

fastened at my ankle and wrist,
sucking up the biological breast.

You with your zigzag machine
playing like the stock market up and down.

Give me the Phi Beta key you always...Read more of this...

Grace

by George Herbert
 My stock lies dead and no increase
Doth my dull husbandry improve: 
O let thy graces without cease
Drop from above! 

If still the sun should hide his face, 
Thy house would but a dungeon prove, 
Thy works, night's captives: O let grace
Drop from above! 

The dew doth ev'ry morning fall; 
And shall the dew outstrip thy dove? 
The dew, for...Read more of this...

A Mountain Station

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 I bought a run a while ago, 
On country rough and ridgy, 
Where wallaroos and wombats grow -- 
The Upper Murrumbidgee. 
The grass is rather scant, it's true, 
But this a fair exchange is, 
The sheep can see a lovely view 
By climbing up the ranges. 

And She-oak Flat's the station's name, 
I'm not surprised at that, sirs: 
The...Read more of this...

A Singer of the Bush

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 There is waving of grass in the breeze
And a song in the air,
And a murmur of myriad bees
That toil everywhere.
There is scent in the blossom and bough,
And the breath of the Spring
Is as soft as a kiss on a brow --
And Spring-time I sing.

There is drought on the land, and the stock
Tumble down in their tracks
Or follow -- a...Read more of this...

The Ballad Of The Drover

by Henry Lawson
 Across the stony ridges,
Across the rolling plain,
Young Harry Dale, the drover,
Comes riding home again.
And well his stock-horse bears him,
And light of heart is he,
And stoutly his old pack-horse
Is trotting by his knee. 

Up Queensland way with cattle
He travelled regions vast;
And many months have vanished
Since home-folk saw him last.
He hums a song of someone
He hopes to marry soon;
And hobble-chains and...Read more of this...

Prayer

by Robert William Service
 You talk o' prayer an' such -
Well, I jest don't know how;
I guess I got as much
Religion as a cow.
I fight an' drink an' swear;
Red hell I often raise,
But never said a prayer
 In all my days.

I'm honest, right enough;
Don't take no stock in crimes;
I'm jest a dockside tough,
An' yet . . . an' yet sometimes,
If I should happen...Read more of this...

The Peasants Confession

by Thomas Hardy
 Good Father!… ’Twas an eve in middle June,
And war was waged anew 
By great Napoleon, who for years had strewn 
Men’s bones all Europe through. 

Three nights ere this, with columned corps he’d crossed
The Sambre at Charleroi, 
To move on Brussels, where the English host 
Dallied in Parc and Bois. 

The yestertide we’d heard the gloomy gun 
Growl through...Read more of this...

The City Bushman

by Henry Lawson
 It was pleasant up the country, City Bushman, where you went, 
For you sought the greener patches and you travelled like a gent; 
And you curse the trams and buses and the turmoil and the push, 
Though you know the squalid city needn't keep you from the bush; 
But we lately heard you singing of the `plains where shade...Read more of this...

With the Cattle

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 The drought is down on field and flock, 
The river-bed is dry; 
And we must shift the starving stock 
Before the cattle die. 
We muster up with weary hearts 
At breaking of the day, 
And turn our heads to foreign parts, 
To take the stock away. 
And it’s hunt ‘em up and dog ‘em, 
And it’s get the whip...Read more of this...

An Electric Sign Goes Dark

by Carl Sandburg
 POLAND, France, Judea ran in her veins,
Singing to Paris for bread, singing to Gotham in a fizz at the pop of a bottle’s cork.

“Won’t you come and play wiz me” she sang … and “I just can’t make my eyes behave.”
“Higgeldy-Piggeldy,” “Papa’s Wife,” “Follow Me” were plays.

Did she wash her feet in a tub of milk? Was a strand...Read more of this...

Faun

by Robert Graves
 Here down this very way, 
Here only yesterday 
 King Faun went leaping. 
He sang, with careless shout 
Hurling his name about; 
He sang, with oaken stock 
His steps from rock to rock 
 In safety keeping, 
 “Here Faun is free, 
 Here Faun is free!” 

Today against yon pine, 
Forlorn yet still divine, 
 King Faun leant...Read more of this...

The Travelling Post Office

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 The roving breezes come and go, the reed-beds sweep and sway, 
The sleepy river murmers low,and loiters on its way, 
It is the land of lots o'time along the Castlereagh. 
. . .. . . . . 

The old man's son had left the farm, he found it full and slow, 
He drifted to the great North-west, where all...Read more of this...

Night In The Old Home

by Thomas Hardy
 When the wasting embers redden the chimney-breast, 
And Life's bare pathway looms like a desert track to me, 
And from hall and parlour the living have gone to their rest, 
My perished people who housed them here come back to me.

They come and seat them around in their mouldy places, 
Now and then bending towards me a glance of...Read more of this...

Buying Stock

by Denise Duhamel
 "...The use of condoms offers substantial protection, but does not 
guarantee total protection and that while 
there is no evidence that deep kissing has resulted in 
transfer of the virus, no one can say that such transmission 
would be absolutely impossible."

--The Surgeon General, 1987


I know you won't mind if I ask you to put this on.
It's for your protection...Read more of this...

To Stella Who Collected and Transcribed His Poems

by Jonathan Swift
 As, when a lofty pile is raised,
We never hear the workmen praised,
Who bring the lime, or place the stones;
But all admire Inigo Jones:
So, if this pile of scattered rhymes
Should be approved in aftertimes;
If it both pleases and endures,
The merit and the praise are yours.
Thou, Stella, wert no longer young,
When first for thee my harp was strung,
Without one word of...Read more of this...

The Beasts Confession

by Jonathan Swift
 To the Priest, on Observing how most Men mistake their own Talents
When beasts could speak (the learned say, 
They still can do so ev'ry day),
It seems, they had religion then,
As much as now we find in men.
It happen'd, when a plague broke out
(Which therefore made them more devout),
The king of brutes (to make it plain,
Of quadrupeds I only mean)
By...Read more of this...

Prof. vere de blaw

by Eugene Field
 Achievin' sech distinction with his moddel tabble dote
Ez to make his Red Hoss Mountain restauraw a place uv note,
Our old friend Casey innovated somewhat round the place,
In hopes he would ameliorate the sufferin's uv the race;
'Nd uv the many features Casey managed to import
The most important wuz a Steenway gran' pianny-fort,
An' bein' there wuz nobody could play upon the...Read more of this...

If you fancy that your people came of better stock than mine

by Henry Lawson
 If you fancy that your people came of better stock than mine, 
If you hint of higher breeding by a word or by a sign, 
If you're proud because of fortune or the clever things you do -- 
Then I'll play no second fiddle: I'm a prouder man than you! 

If you think that your profession has the more...Read more of this...

Night-Scented Stock

by Katherine Mansfield
 White, white in the milky night
The moon danced over a tree.
"Wouldn't it be lovely to swim in the lake!"
Someone whispered to me.

"Oh, do-do-do!" cooed someone else,
And clasped her hands to her chin.
"I should so love to see the white bodies--
All the white bodies jump in!"

The big dark house hid secretly
Behind the magnolia and the spreading pear-tree;
But there was a...Read more of this...

Wildflowers And Hothouse-plants

by Henrik Ibsen
 "GOOD Heavens, man, what a freak of taste! 
What blindness to form and feature! 
The girl's no beauty, and might be placed 
As a hoydenish kind of creature." 

No doubt it were more in the current tone 
And the tide today we move in, 
If I could but choose me to make my own 
A type of our average...Read more of this...

Psalm 80

by Isaac Watts
 The church's prayer under affliction; or, The vineyard of God wasted.

Great Shepherd of thine Israel,
Who didst between the cherubs dwell,
And lead the tribes, thy chosen sheep,
Safe through the desert and the deep;

Thy church is in the desert now,
Shine from on high and guide us through;
Turn us to thee, thy love restore,
We shall be saved and sigh no more.

Great God,...Read more of this...

Sonnet XLIII

by Edmund Spenser
 SHall I then silent be or shall I speake?
And if I speake, her wrath renew I shall:
and if I silent be, my hart will breake,
or choked be with ouerflowing gall.
What tyranny is this both my hart to thrall,
and eke my toung with proud restraint to tie?
that nether I may speake nor thinke at all,
but like a stupid stock in...Read more of this...

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