Famous Unread Poems by Famous Poets

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

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A Cabbage Patch

...uch better men than I
 I've seen pass on;
Their pay-off when they die;
 --Oblivion.

And so I mock at fame,
 With books unread;
No monument I claim
 When I am dead;
Contented as I see
 My cottage thatch
That my last goal should be
 --A cabbage patch....Read more of this...
by Service, Robert William


An Old Man To His Sleeping Young Bride

...s been,
So on my waning years you cast the glory
Of youth and pleasure, for a little hour;
And life again seems like an unread story,
And joy and hope both stir me with their power.

Can blooming June be fond of bleak December?
I dare not wait to hear my heart reply.
I will forget the question-and remember
Alone the priceless feast spread for mine eye,
That radiant hair that flows across the pillows,
Like shimmering sunbeams over drifts of snow;
Those heaving breasts, like un...Read more of this...
by Wilcox, Ella Wheeler

Ash Wednesday

...g
Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring
With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem
The time. Redeem
The unread vision in the higher dream
While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.

The silent sister veiled in white and blue
Between the yews, behind the garden god,
Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke
no word

But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down
Redeem the time, redeem the dream
The token of the word unheard, unsp...Read more of this...
by Eliot, T S (Thomas Stearns)

At His Grave

...e, the touch, the tone; 
His home is nigh,—but there, 
See from the hearth his figure fled, 
The pen unrais’d, the page unread, 
Untenanted the chair! 

Vainly the beechen boughs have made 
A fresh green canopy of shade, 
Vainly the peacocks stray; 
While Carlo, with despondent gait, 
Wonders how long affairs of State 
Will keep his lord away. 

Here most we miss the guide, the friend; 
Back to the churchyard let me wend, 
And, by the posied mound, 
Lingering where late stood...Read more of this...
by Austin, Alfred

Book Lover

...re.
I have their books, I love their names,
And yet alas! they head,
With Lawrence, Joyce and Henry James,
My Roster of Unread.

I think it would be very well
If I commit a crime,
And get put in a prison cell
And not allowed to rhyme;
Yet given all these worthy books
According to my need,
I now caress with loving looks,
But never, never read....Read more of this...
by Service, Robert William


Churchills Grave

...ess of sorrow and of awe
On that neglected turf and quiet stone,
With name no clearer than the names unknown,
Which lay unread around it; and asked
The Gardener of that ground, why it might be
That for this plant strangers his memory tasked
Through the thick deaths of half a century;
And thus he answered—"Well, I do not know
Why frequent travellers turn to pilgrims so;
He died before my day of sextonship,
And I had not the digging of this grave."
And is this all? I thought,—a...Read more of this...
by Byron, George (Lord)

Coming To Terms With Schizophrenia

...

Keats reminds us.

Insistently the morning traffic hums

As I sip my tea, list calls to make,

Sigh in frustration at unread books.

For solace I look at cards of Haworth

Moorland vistas of unending paths

Cloudscapes only a Constable could paint

High Withens in a gale, the sloping village street.

How? When? Why?

‘The truth’ - if such an entity exists - 

Is that I want to run away....Read more of this...
by Tebb, Barry

Futility

...Dusting my books I spent a busy day:
Not ancient toes, time-hallowed and unread,
but modern volumes, classics in their way,
whose makers now are numbered with the dead;
Men of a generation more than mine,
With whom I tattled, battled and drank wine. 

I worshipped them, rejoiced in their success,
Grudging them not the gold that goes with fame.
I thought them near-immortal, I confess,
And naught could dim the glory of each name.
H...Read more of this...
by Service, Robert William

Honors - Part Ii

...u bettered so, or more secure
      Thou, and thy destinies?
And if thou searchest, and art made to fear
  Facing of unread riddles dark and hard,
And mastering not their majesty austere,
      Their meaning locked and barred:
How would it make the weight and wonder less,
  If, lifted from immortal shoulders down,
The worlds were cast on seas of emptiness
      In realms without a crown.
And (if there were no God) were left to rue
  Dominion of the air and of the f...Read more of this...
by Ingelow, Jean

One Flesh

..., 
She like a girl dreaming of childhood, 
All men elsewhere - it is as if they wait 
Some new event: the book he holds unread, 
Her eyes fixed on the shadows overhead. 

Tossed up like flotsam from a former passion, 
How cool they lie. They hardly ever touch, 
Or if they do, it is like a confession 
Of having little feeling - or too much. 
Chastity faces them, a destination 
For which their whole lives were a preparation. 

Strangely apart, yet strangely close together, 
Sil...Read more of this...
by Jennings, Elizabeth

Presentiment

...the day,
Come to the hearth awhile;
The wind so wildly sweeps away,
The clouds so darkly pile.
That open book has lain, unread,
For hours upon your knee;
You've never smiled nor turned your head
What can you, sister, see ? ' 

' Come hither, Jane, look down the field;
How dense a mist creeps on !
The path, the hedge, are both concealed,
Ev'n the white gate is gone;
No landscape through the fog I trace,
No hill with pastures green;
All featureless is nature's face,
All masked ...Read more of this...
by Bronte, Charlotte

Salts And Oils

...ming back
the way a swallow does with unerring grace
and foreknowledge because all of this
was prophesied in the final, unread book
of the Midrash and because I have to
grow up and because it pleases me....Read more of this...
by Levine, Philip

The Bombay Train Song

...d white collar brawl
The sleepless night stretches ahead
There’s no space for a fly to crawl
The morning paper is still unread.

You who sleep standing
Don’t drool on his shirt
It will cost him a lot of spending
If you pour on him all your dirt.

Plastic bags, umbrellas, Tiffin
The rack is full and the seats overflow
What is that smell Peter Griffin?
Is it the Sewri sewers overflowing?

Beware of pickers of pockets
Who surround and slash with knife
Careful of your arm’s socke...Read more of this...
by Matthew, John

The Boston Athenaeum

...careless grasp of transient interest,
Stand books we can but dimly see, their charm
Much greater that their titles are unread;
While on a level with the dusty floor
Others are ranged in orderly confusion,
And we must stoop in painful posture while
We read their names and learn their histories.
The little gallery winds round about
The middle of a most secluded room,
Midway between the ceiling and the floor.
A type of those high thoughts, which while we read
Hover between the ...Read more of this...
by Lowell, Amy

The Choir Invisible

...self shall live till human Time 
Shall fold its eyelids, and the human sky 
Be gathered like a scroll within the tomb 
Unread forever. This is life to come, -- 
Which martyred men have made more glorious 
For us who strive to follow. May I reach 
That purest heaven, -- be to other souls 
The cup of strength in some great agony, 
Enkindle generous ardor, feed pure love, 
Beget the smiles that have no cruelty, 
Be the sweet presence of a good diffused, 
And in diffusion ever m...Read more of this...
by Eliot, George

The Man Who Knew

...armed us, made us laugh and weep?
Come, let us crown him where he sits apart."
Then, with his picture spurned, his book unread,
His song unsung, they found their Dreamer -- dead....Read more of this...
by Service, Robert William

The Poet And His Book

...ver these chance dust and ashes,
Weep not me, my friend!

Me, by no means dead
In that hour, but surely
When this book, unread,
Rots to earth obscurely,
And no more to any breast,
Close against the clamorous swelling
Of the thing there is no telling,
Are these pages pressed!

When this book is mould,
And a book of many
Waiting to be sold
For a casual penny,
In a little open case,
In a street unclean and cluttered,
Where a heavy mud is spattered
From the passing drays,

Strang...Read more of this...
by St. Vincent Millay, Edna

The Self-Seeker

...make them. What is it you want? 
I'll put you out with Anne. Be good or go." 
"You don't mean you will sign that thing unread?" 
"Make yourself useful then, and read it for me. 
Isn't it something I have seen before?" 
"You'll find it is. Let your friend look at it." 
"Yes, but all that takes time, and I'm as much 
In haste to get it over with as you. 
But read it, read it. That's right, draw the curtain: 
Half the time I don't know what's troubling me.-- 
What do you say, W...Read more of this...
by Frost, Robert

View From The Inner City

...gaping frames beneath a bannered

Street-wide invitation to a "Housing Consultation Initiative"

Flapping desultory and unread

Where last year ‘Beeston in Bloom’ was up instead....Read more of this...
by Tebb, Barry

Wants Poems And Has Never Rejected Anyone

...s Milosz commands "All your griefs,

My sad ones, are in vain" but offering

In recompense soaring sonatas which remain unread

Untranslated, relegated to the reserve stock

Of the Institut Fran?ais, along with Fargue,

Jacob and Larbaud while all those Bloodaxe deadheads

Blossom and bloom round poetry’s tomb

Where still there’s room for Ursula’s

Queen’s Medal for Poetry, lacklustre poetaster

From Harry Chamber’s Press at Peterloo – 

That Augean stable has too much ****
...Read more of this...
by Tebb, Barry

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