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Famous These Days Poems by Famous Poets

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

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...y land’s maimed darlings! with the plenteous bloody bandage and the crutch! 
Lo! your pallid army follow’d!) 

7
But on these days of brightness, 
On the far-stretching beauteous landscape, the roads and lanes, the high-piled
 farm-wagons, and
 the fruits and barns, 
Shall the dead intrude?

Ah, the dead to me mar not—they fit well in Nature; 
They fit very well in the landscape, under the trees and grass, 
And along the edge of the sky, in the horizon’s far margin. 

Nor...Read more of this...
by Whitman, Walt



...can thrill to their country's hymn, 
For the passion that wells in the Marseillaise 
Is the same that fires the French these days, 
And, when the flag that they love goes by, 
With swelling bosom and moistened eye 
They can look, for they know that it floats there still 
By the might of their hands and the strength of their will, 
And through perils countless and trials unknown 
Its honor each man has made his own. 
They wanted the war no more than you, 
But they saw how...Read more of this...
by Seeger, Alan
...e up marches henceforth triumphant and onward,
To cheer, O mother, your boundless, expectant soul. 

Bards grand as these days so grand! 
Bards of the great Idea! Bards of the peaceful inventions! (for the war, the war is over!)

Yet Bards of the latent armies—a million soldiers waiting, ever-ready, 
Bards towering like hills—(no more these dots, these pigmies, these little piping
 straws,
 these gnats, that fill the hour, to pass for poets;)
Bards with songs as from burn...Read more of this...
by Whitman, Walt
...My most respected
 comrades of posterity!
Rummaging among
 these days’ 
 petrified crap,
exploring the twilight of our times,
you,
 possibly,
 will inquire about me too.

And, possibly, your scholars
 will declare,
with their erudition overwhelming
 a swarm of problems;
once there lived
 a certain champion of boiled water,
and inveterate enemy of raw water.

Professor,
 take off your bicycle glasses!
I mysel...Read more of this...
by Mayakovsky, Vladimir
...nown Peace only as one more word 
Among the many others we say over
That have an airy credit of no meaning. 
One of these days, if I were seeing many 
To live, I might erect a cenotaph 
To Job’s wife. I assume that you remember; 
If you forget, she’s extant in your Bible.”

Now this was not the language of a man 
Whom I had known as Avon, and I winced 
Hearing it—though I knew that in my heart 
There was no visitation of surprise. 
Unwelcome as it was, and off...Read more of this...
by Robinson, Edwin Arlington



...tle on the round if you insist,
For now, God save the mark, he's growing old;
He's five and forty, and to hear him talk
These days you'd call him eighty; then you'd add
More years to that. He's old enough to be
The father of a world, and so he is.
"Ben, you're a scholar, what's the time of day?"
Says he; and there shines out of him again
An aged light that has no age or station -- 
The mystery that's his -- a mischievous
Half-mad serenity that laughs at fame
For being...Read more of this...
by Robinson, Edwin Arlington
...Ye who have yearn'd
With too much passion, will here stay and pity,
For the mere sake of truth; as 'tis a ditty
Not of these days, but long ago 'twas told
By a cavern wind unto a forest old;
And then the forest told it in a dream
To a sleeping lake, whose cool and level gleam
A poet caught as he was journeying
To Phoebus' shrine; and in it he did fling
His weary limbs, bathing an hour's space,
And after, straight in that inspired place
He sang the story up into the air,
Givi...Read more of this...
by Keats, John
...g Spanish name:
What a name! Was it love or praise?
Speech half-asleep or song half-awake?
I must learn Spanish, one of these days,
Only for that slow sweet name's sake.

IV.

Roses, if I live and do well,
I may bring her, one of these days,
To fix you fast with as fine a spell,
Fit you each with his Spanish phrase;
But do not detain me now; for she lingers
There, like sunshine over the ground,
And ever I see her soft white fingers
Searching after the bud she found.Read more of this...
by Browning, Robert
...not endure their loss?
Or hope the martyr's crown to wear
And cast away the cross?

These weary hours will not be lost,
These days of passive misery,
These nights of darkness anguish tost
If I can fix my heart on Thee.

Weak and weary though I lie,
Crushed with sorrow, worn with pain,
Still I may lift to Heaven mine eyes
And strive and labour not in vain,

That inward strife against the sins
That ever wait on suffering;
To watch and strike where first begins
Each ill that...Read more of this...
by Bronte, Anne
...elay'd the fatal sentence:
And heaven can ruin you at pleasure,
By Gage, as soon as by a Cæsar.
Yet did our hero in these days
Pick up some laurel wreaths of praise.
And as the statuary of Seville
Made his crackt saint an exc'llent devil;
So though our war small triumph brings,
We gain'd great fame in other things.


"Did not our troops show great discerning,
And skill your various arts in learning?
Outwent they not each native noodle
By far, in playing Yankee-doo...Read more of this...
by Trumbull, John
...while your sister practiced the Daphne all alone in her room.
We borrowed the jargon of farriers for our slang.
These days language seems transparent a badly broken code.

The 1790's will never come again. Childhood was big.
People would take walks to the very tops of hills
and write down what they saw in their journals without speaking.
Our collars were high and our hats were extremely soft.
We would surprise each other with alphabets made of twig...Read more of this...
by Collins, Billy
...fond believing lyre, 
When holy were the haunted forest boughs, 
Holy the air, the water, and the fire; 
Yet even in these days so far retired 40 
From happy pieties, thy lucent fans, 
Fluttering among the faint Olympians, 
I see, and sing, by my own eyes inspired. 
So let me be thy choir, and make a moan 
Upon the midnight hours; 45 
Thy voice, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet 
From swing¨¨d censer teeming: 
Thy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat 
O...Read more of this...
by Keats, John
...I did, 
Should I be so complacent in my skill 
To comb the tangled language of the people 
As to be sure of anything in these days.
Put that much in account with modesty. 

BURR

What in the name of Ahab, Hamilton, 
Have you, in the last region of your dreaming, 
To do with “people”? You may be the devil 
In your dead-reckoning of what reefs and shoals
Are waiting on the progress of our ship 
Unless you steer it, but you’ll find it irksome 
Alone there in the stern; a...Read more of this...
by Robinson, Edwin Arlington
...Speaking to you
this hour
these days when
I have lost the feather of poetry
and the rains
of separation 
surround us tock
tock like Go tablets

Everyone has learned 
to move carefully

'Dancing' 'laughing' 'bad taste'
is a memory
a tableau behind trees of law

In the midst of love for you
my wife's suffering
anger in every direction
and the children wise
as tough shrubs
but they are ...Read more of this...
by Ondaatje, Michael
...a wandering home,
A flying home for me.

Ride through the silent earthquake lands,
Wide as a waste is wide,
Across these days like deserts, when
Pride and a little scratching pen
Have dried and split the hearts of men,
Heart of the heroes, ride.

Up through an empty house of stars,
Being what heart you are,
Up the inhuman steeps of space
As on a staircase go in grace,
Carrying the firelight on your face
Beyond the loneliest star.

Take these; in memory of the hou...Read more of this...
by Chesterton, G K
...given up being perfumers to the Emperor, have we?
Blaise,
Be careful of the hen,
Maybe I can find a use for her one of these days.
That eagle's rather well cut, Martin.
But I'm sick of smelling Cossack,
Take me inside and let me put my head into a stack
Of orris-root and musk."
Within the shop, the light is dimmed to a pearl-and-green dusk
Out of which dreamily sparkle counters and shelves of glass,
Containing phials, and bowls, and jars, and dishes; a mass
Of aq...Read more of this...
by Lowell, Amy
...In these days of peace and money, free to all the Commonweal, 
There are ancient dames in Buckland wearing wedding rings of steel; 
Wedding rings of steel and iron, worn on wrinkled hands and old, 
And the wearers would not give them, not for youth nor wealth untold. 

In the days of black oppression, when the best abandoned hope, 
And all Buckland crouched...Read more of this...
by Lawson, Henry
...r> 

I’m but a daft old fool! I often wish 
The Squire were back again—ah! he was a man! 
They don’t breed men like him these days; he’d come 
For sure, and sit and talk and suck his briar 
Till the old wife brings up a dish of tea. 

Ay, those were days, when I was serving Squire! 
I never knowed such sport as ’85, 
The winter afore the one that snowed us silly. 

. . . . 
Once in a way the parson will drop in 
And read a bit o’ the Bible, if I’m bad,...Read more of this...
by Sassoon, Siegfried
...are about fewer things; I'm more selective.
It's got so I can't even bring myself
To read through any of your books these days.
It's partly weariness, and partly the fact
That I seem not to care much about the endings,
How things work out, or whether they even do.
What I do instead is sit here by this window
And look out at the trees across the way.
You wouldn't think that was much, but let me tell you,
It keeps me quite intent and occupied.
Now all the le...Read more of this...
by Hecht, Anthony
...ng.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days.
 Unreal City, 
Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
With a dead so...Read more of this...
by Eliot, T S (Thomas Stearns)

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