Famous Tristich Poems by Famous Poets
These are examples of famous Tristich poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous tristich poems. These examples illustrate what a famous tristich poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).
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by
Emily Dickinson
A Dimple in the Tomb
Makes that ferocious Room
A Home --...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
For every Bird a Nest --
Wherefore in timid quest
Some little Wren goes seeking round --
Wherefore when boughs are free --
Households in every tree --
Pilgrim be found?
Perhaps a home too high --
Ah Aristocracy!
The little Wren desires --
Perhaps of twig so fine --
Of twine e'en superfine,
Her pride aspires --
The Lark is not ashamed
To build upon the ground
Her modest house --
Yet who...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
A Rat surrendered here
A brief career of Cheer
And Fraud and Fear.
Of Ignominy's due
Let all addicted to
Beware.
The most obliging Trap
Its tendency to snap
Cannot resist --
Temptation is the Friend
Repugnantly resigned
At last....Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
The ecstasy to guess
Were a receipted bliss
If grace could talk....Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
Take all away --
The only thing worth larceny
Is left -- the Immortality --...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
Somewhat, to hope for,
Be it ne'er so far
Is Capital against Despair --
Somewhat, to suffer,
Be it ne'er so keen --
If terminable, may be borne....Read more of this...
by
Edwin Arlington Robinson
You that in vain would front the coming order
With eyes that meet forlornly what they must,
And only with a furtive recognition
See dust where there is dust,—
Be sure you like it always in your faces,
Obscuring your best graces,
Blinding your speech and sight,
Before you seek again your dusty places
Where the old wrong seems right....Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
Could I -- then -- shut the door --
Lest my beseeching face -- at last --
Rejected -- be -- of Her?...Read more of this...
by
Jane Taylor
Little sister, come away,
And let us in the garden play,
For it is a pleasant day.
On the grass-plat let us sit,
Or, if you please, we'll play a bit,
And run about all over it.
But the fruit we will not pick,
For that would be a naughty trick,
And very likely make us sick.
Nor will we pluck the...Read more of this...
by
Andrew Marvell
Facundis dedit ille notis, interprete plumas
Insinuare sonos oculis, & pingere voces,
Et mentem chartis, oculis impertiit aurem....Read more of this...
by
John Berryman
Shh! on a twine hung from disastered trees
Henry is swinging his daughter. They seem drunk.
Over across them look out,
tranquil, the high statues of the wise.
Her feet peep, like a lady's in sleep sunk.
That which this scene's about-”
he pushes violent, his calves distend,
his mouth is open with effort, so is hers,
in the Supreme Court garden,
the justices lean, *****, out, the...Read more of this...
by
Robert Herrick
Why I tie about thy wrist,
Julia, this my silken twist?
For what other reason is't,
But to shew thee how in part
Thou my pretty captive art?
But thy bond-slave is my heart;
'Tis but silk that bindeth thee,
Knap the thread and thou art free;
But 'tis otherwise with me;
I am bound, and fast bound so,
That from thee I cannot go;
If I could, I would...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
Of Life to own --
From Life to draw --
But never tough the reservoir --...Read more of this...
by
Robert Herrick
Whatsoever thing I see,
Rich or poor although it be,
--'Tis a mistress unto me.
Be my girl or fair or brown,
Does she smile, or does she frown;
Still I write a sweet-heart down.
Be she rough, or smooth of skin;
When I touch, I then begin
For to let affection in.
Be she bald, or does she wear
Locks incurl'd of other hair;
I shall find enchantment there.
Be...Read more of this...
by
Kobayashi Issa
His death poem:
A bath when you're born,
a bath when you die,
how stupid....Read more of this...
by
Theodore Roethke
In moving-slow he has no Peer.
You ask him something in his Ear,
He thinks about it for a Year;
And, then, before he says a Word
There, upside down (unlike a Bird),
He will assume that you have Heard--
A most Ex-as-per-at-ing Lug.
But should you call his manner Smug,
He'll sigh and give his Branch a Hug;
Then off again to Sleep he goes,
Still swaying gently...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
To see the Summer Sky
Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie --
True Poems flee --...Read more of this...
by
Kobayashi Issa
A cuckoo sings
to me, to the mountain,
to me, to the mountain....Read more of this...
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