Famous Weet Poems by Famous Poets
These are examples of famous Weet poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous weet poems. These examples illustrate what a famous weet poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).
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by
Robert Burns
YOUNG Jockie was the blythest lad,
In a’ our town or here awa;
Fu’ blythe he whistled at the gaud,
Fu’ lightly danc’d he in the ha’.
He roos’d my een sae bonie blue,
He roos’d my waist sae genty sma’;
An’ aye my heart cam to my mou’,
When ne’er a body heard or saw.
My Jockie toils upon the plain,
Thro’...Read more of this...
by
Edmund Spenser
The birth of faire Belphoebe and
Of Amoret is told.
The Gardins of Adonis fraught
With pleasures manifold.
And gentle sprite deforme with rude rusticity.
But to this faire Belphoebe in her berth
The heauens so fauourable were and free,
Looking with myld aspect vpon the earth,
In th'Horoscope of her natiuitee,
That all the gifts of grace and chastitee
On her they poured forth of plenteous horne;
Ioue...Read more of this...
by
Robert Burns
IN this strange land, this uncouth clime,
A land unknown to prose or rhyme;
Where words ne’er cross’t the Muse’s heckles,
Nor limpit in poetic shackles:
A land that Prose did never view it,
Except when drunk he stacher’t thro’ it;
Here, ambush’d by the chimla cheek,
Hid in an atmosphere of reek,
I hear a wheel thrum i’ the neuk,
I hear it—for in vain I leuk.
The...Read more of this...
by
Robert Burns
NOW in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays,
And listens the lambkins that bleat o’er her braes;
While birds warble welcomes in ilka green shaw,
But to me it’s delightless—my Nanie’s awa.
The snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn,
And violetes bathe in the weet o’ the morn;
They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw,
They mind me o’ Nanie—and Nanie’s awa.
Thou lav’rock that...Read more of this...
by
Robert Burns
HAIL, thairm-inspirin’, rattlin’ Willie!
Tho’ fortune’s road be rough an’ hilly
To every fiddling, rhyming billie,
We never heed,
But take it like the unback’d filly,
Proud o’ her speed.
When, idly goavin’, whiles we saunter,
Yirr! fancy barks, awa we canter,
Up hill, down brae, till some mischanter,
Some black bog-hole,
Arrests us; then the scathe an’ banter
We’re forced to thole.
Hale be your heart!...Read more of this...
by
Robert Burns
He. O PHILLY, happy be that day,
When roving thro’ the gather’d hay,
My youthfu’ heart was stown away,
And by thy charms, my Philly.
She. O Willy, aye I bless the grove
Where first I own’d my maiden love,
Whilst thou did pledge the Powers above,
To be my ain dear Willy.
Both. For a’ the joys that gowd can gie,
I dinna care a...Read more of this...
by
Robert Burns
O LASSIE, are ye sleepin yet,
Or are ye waukin, I wad wit?
For Love has bound me hand an’ fit,
And I would fain be in, jo.
Chorus.—O let me in this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night;
O let me in this ae night,
I’ll no come back again, jo!
O hear’st thou not the wind an’ weet?
Nae star blinks thro’ the driving...Read more of this...
by
Robert Burns
WEE, modest crimson-tippèd flow’r,
Thou’s met me in an evil hour;
For I maun crush amang the stoure
Thy slender stem:
To spare thee now is past my pow’r,
Thou bonie gem.
Alas! it’s no thy neibor sweet,
The bonie lark, companion meet,
Bending thee ’mang the dewy weet,
Wi’ spreckl’d breast!
When upward-springing, blythe, to greet
The purpling east.
Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
Upon thy early,...Read more of this...
by
Robert Burns
ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN APRIL, 1786
Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r,
Thou's met me in an evil hour;
For I maun crush amang the stoure
Thy slender stem:
To spare thee now is past my pow'r,
Thou bonie gem.
Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet,
The bonie lark, companion meet,
Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet,
Wi' spreckled breast!
When upward-springing, blithe, to greet
The purpling east.
Cauld blew...Read more of this...
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