Famous Supremely Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Weltschmertz

by Paul Laurence Dunbar
You ask why I am sad to-day,
I have no cares, no griefs, you say?
Ah, yes, 't is true, I have no grief—
But—is there not the falling leaf?
The bare tree there is mourning left
With all of autumn's gray bereft;
It is not what has happened me,
Think of the bare, dismantled tree.
The birds go South along the sky,
I hear their lingering, long good-bye.
Who...Read more of this...

Lowly Laureate

by Robert William Service
 O Sacred Muse, my lyre excuse! -
My verse is vagrant singing;
Rhyme I invoke for simple folk
Of penny-wise upbringing:
For Grannies grey to paste away
Within an album cover;
For maids in class to primly pass,
And lads to linger over.

I take the clay of every day
And mould it in my fashion;
I seek to trace the commonplace
With humor and compassion.
Of earth am I, and...Read more of this...

Apollo Musagete Poetry And The Leader Of The Muses

by Delmore Schwartz
 Nothing is given which is not taken.

Little or nothing is taken which is not freely desired,
 freely, truly and fully.

"You would not seek me if you had not found me": this is
 true of all that is supremely desired and admired...

"An enigma is an animal," said the hurried, harried 
 schoolboy:

And a horse divided against itself cannot stand;

And a...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...

Sonnet LX

by Francesco Petrarch
SONNET LX. Io son sì stanco sotto 'l fascio antico. HE CONFESSES HIS ERRORS, AND THROWS HIMSELF ON THE MERCY OF GOD.  Evil by custom, as by nature frail,I am so wearied with the long disgrace,That much I dread my fainting in the raceShould let th' original enemy prevail.Once an Eternal...Read more of this...

Sonnet CLXVIII

by Francesco Petrarch
SONNET CLXVIII. Mia ventura ed Amor m' avean sì adorno. HE REGRETS HAVING RETURNED HER GLOVE.  Me Love and Fortune then supremely bless'd!Her glove which gold and silken broidery bore!I seem'd to reach of utmost bliss the crest,Musing within myself on her who wore.Ne'er on that day I think, of days...Read more of this...

To A Buddha Seated On A Lotus

by Sarojini Naidu
 LORD BUDDHA, on thy Lotus-throne, 
With praying eyes and hands elate, 
What mystic rapture dost thou own, 
Immutable and ultimate? 
What peace, unravished of our ken, 
Annihilate from the world of men? 

The wind of change for ever blows 
Across the tumult of our way, 
To-morrow's unborn griefs depose 
The sorrows of our yesterday. 
Dream yields to dream, strife...Read more of this...

The Man From Eldorado

by Robert William Service
 He's the man from Eldorado, and he's just arrived in town,
 In moccasins and oily buckskin shirt.
He's gaunt as any Indian, and pretty nigh as brown;
 He's greasy, and he smells of sweat and dirt.
He sports a crop of whiskers that would shame a healthy hog;
 Hard work has racked his joints and stooped his back;
He slops along the...Read more of this...

Hymn 44 part 2

by Isaac Watts
 The true improvement of life.

Ps. 90:12. 

Ane is this life prolonged to me?
Are days and seasons giv'n?
O let me, then, prepare to be
A fitter heir of heav'n.

In vain these moments shall not pass,
These golden hours be gone:
Lord, I accept thine offered grace,
I bow before thy throne.

Now cleanse my soul from every sin
By my Redeemer's blood;
Now let my flesh and...Read more of this...

The Wild Common

by D. H. Lawrence
 The quick sparks on the gorse bushes are leaping, 
Little jets of sunlight-texture imitating flame; 
Above them, exultant, the peewits are sweeping: 
They are lords of the desolate wastes of sadness their screamings proclaim.

Rabbits, handfuls of brown earth, lie 
Low-rounded on the mournful grass they have bitten down to the quick. 
Are they asleep? -- Are they alive? --...Read more of this...

184. Song—The Birks of Aberfeldy

by Robert Burns
 Chorus.—Bonie lassie, will ye go,
Will ye go, will ye go,
Bonie lassie, will ye go
To the birks of Aberfeldy!


NOW Simmer blinks on flowery braes,
And o’er the crystal streamlets plays;
Come let us spend the lightsome days,
 In the birks of Aberfeldy.
 Bonie lassie, &c.


While o’er their heads the hazels hing,
The little birdies blythely sing,
Or lightly flit on wanton wing,
 In the...Read more of this...

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