Famous Taking Out Poems by Famous Poets
These are examples of famous Taking Out poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous taking out poems. These examples illustrate what a famous taking out poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).
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by
McGonagall, William Topaz
...rm a magnificent background far and wide.
And the numerous lochs there abound with trout
Which can be had for the taking out,
Especially from the Lochs Chon and Ard,
There the angler can make a catch which will his toil reward.
And between the two lochs the Glasgow Water Works are near,
Which convey water of Loch Katrine in copious streams clear
To the inhabitants of the Great Metropolis of the West,
And for such pure water they should think themselves blest. ...Read more of this...
by
Petrarch, Francesco
...CANZONE XIV. Chiare, fresche e dolci acque. TO THE FOUNTAIN OF VAUOLUSE—CONTEMPLATIONS OF DEATH. Ye limpid brooks, by whose clear streamsMy goddess laid her tender limbs!Ye gentle boughs...Read more of this...
by
Brooke, Rupert
...woe to speak;
PASSION, grown portly, something middle-aged;
And FRIENDSHIP -- not a minute older, she;
IMPATIENCE, ever taking out his watch;
FAITH, who was deaf, and had to lean, to catch
Old WISDOM's endless drone.
BEAUTY was there,
Pale in her black; dry-eyed; she stood alone.
Poor maz'd IMAGINATION; FANCY wild;
ARDOUR, the sunlight on his greying hair;
CONTENTMENT, who had known YOUTH as a child
And never seen him since. And SPRING came too,
Dancing over the t...Read more of this...
by
Plath, Sylvia
...s summery dress I have no protection,
And they are all gloved and covered, why did nobody tell me?
They are smiling and taking out veils tacked to 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 ...Read more of this...
by
Brooke, Rupert
...of woe to speak;
Passion, grown portly, something middle-aged;
And Friendship—not a minute older, she;
Impatience, ever taking out his watch;
Faith, who was deaf, and had to lean, to catch
Old Wisdom’s endless drone.
Beauty was there,
Pale in her black; dry-eyed; she stood alone.
Poor maz’d Imagination; Fancy wild;
Ardour, the sunlight on his greying hair;
Contentment, who had known Youth as a child
And never seen him since. And Spring came too,
Dancing over the ...Read more of this...
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