Famous Whittle Poems by Famous Poets
These are examples of famous Whittle poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous whittle poems. These examples illustrate what a famous whittle poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).
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by
Burns, Robert
...chter!
Robin shure, &c.
Robin promis’d me
A’ my winter vittle;
Fient haet he had but three
Guse-feathers and a whittle!
Robin shure, &c....Read more of this...
by
Burns, Robert
...man;
Till Suthron raise, an’ coost their claise
Behind him in a raw, man:
An’ Caledon threw by the drone,
An’ did her whittle draw, man;
An’ swoor fu’ rude, thro’ dirt an’ bluid,
To mak it guid in law, man....Read more of this...
by
Burns, Robert
...ath;
But tent me, billie;
I red ye weel, tak care o’ skaith
See, there’s a gully!”
“Gudeman,” quo’ he, “put up your whittle,
I’m no designed to try its mettle;
But if I did, I wad be kittle
To be mislear’d;
I wad na mind it, no that spittle
Out-owre my beard.”
“Weel, weel!” says I, “a bargain be’t;
Come, gie’s your hand, an’ sae we’re gree’t;
We’ll ease our shanks an tak a seat—
Come, gie’s your news;
This while ye hae been mony a gate,
At mony a house.” 2
...Read more of this...
by
Burns, Robert
...see a styme;
Just ae half-mutchkin does me prime,—
Ought less is little—
Then back I rattle on the rhyme,
As gleg’s a whittle.
Note 1. The Rev. J. Russell, Kilmarnock.—R. B. [back]
Note 2. Mr. Russell’s Kirk.—R. B. [back]
Note 3. Dr. Taylor of Norwich.—R. B. [back]...Read more of this...
by
Burns, Robert
...ough I am an elf o’ mettle,
An’ can, like ony wabster’s shuttle,
Jink there or here,
Yet, scarce as lang’s a gude kail-whittle,
I’m unco *****.
An’ now Thou kens our waefu’ case;
For Geordie’s jurr we’re in disgrace,
Because we stang’d her through the place,
An’ hurt her spleuchan;
For whilk we daurna show our face
Within the clachan.
An’ now we’re dern’d in dens and hollows,
And hunted, as was William Wallace,
Wi’ constables-thae blackguard fallows,
An’ sodg...Read more of this...
by
Burns, Robert
...Scotland back her kettle;
Or faith! I’ll wad my new pleugh-pettle,
Ye’ll see’t or lang,
She’ll teach you, wi’ a reekin whittle,
Anither sang.
This while she’s been in crankous mood,
Her lost Militia fir’d her bluid;
(Deil na they never mair do guid,
Play’d her that pliskie!)
An’ now she’s like to rin red-wud
About her whisky.
An’ Lord! if ance they pit her till’t,
Her tartan petticoat she’ll kilt,
An’durk an’ pistol at her belt,
She’ll tak the streets,
An’ ri...Read more of this...
by
Lima, Rossy Evelin
...oppable,
they are the flow of the sea
and they sail at will.
My shattered hands are deer crowns,
rooted stems
that whittle their own path.
Hands so free!
I am a beheaded woman,
a glorified decapitated woman.
My head is a nimbus,
for I am the queen
and my body is the empire.
I
go on
limitless,
vacant in all my sovereignty.
The shackles that once held me
slid through my broken bones.
I am the liberate...Read more of this...
by
Swift, Jonathan
...hed the folks round,
And in a corner of Mrs Duke's box, tied in a rag, the money was found.
So next morning we told Whittle, and he fell a swearing:
Then my dame Wadgar came, and she, you know, is thick of hearing.
"Dame," says I, as loud as I could bawl, "do you know what a loss I have had?"
"Nay," says she, "my Lord Colway's folks are all very sad:
For my Lord Dromedary comes a Tuesday without fail."
"Pugh!" said I, "but that's not the business that I ail."
...Read more of this...
by
Service, Robert William
...kept cool,
And his sole recreation was whittling.
When I'd spill him my woes (ifantile, I suppose),
He'd harken and whittle and whittle;
then when I had done, turn his quid and say: "Son,
Ye're a-drownin' yerself in yer spittle."
He's gone to his grave, but the counsel he gave
I've proved in predicaments trying;
When I got in a stew, feeling ever so blue,
My failures and faults magnifying,
I'd think of old Ed as he sniffed and he said:
"Shaw! them things don't mater ...Read more of this...
by
Kinnell, Galway
...is lung-colored
and put down my nose
and know
the chilly, enduring odor of bear.
2
I take a wolf's rib and whittle
it sharp at both ends
and coil it up
and freeze it in blubber and place it out
on the fairway of the bears.
And when it has vanished
I move out on the bear tracks,
roaming in circles
until I come to the first, tentative, dark
splash on the earth.
And I set out
running, following the splashes
of blood wandering over the w...Read more of this...
by
Service, Robert William
...wants him to fight your wars.
When I've eat my fill and my belt is snug,
I begin to think of my baccy plug.
I whittle a fill in my horny palm,
And the bowl of me old clay pipe I cram.
I trim the edges, I tamp it down,
I nurse a light with an anxious frown;
I begin to draw, and my cheeks tuck in,
And all my face is a blissful grin;
And up in a cloud the good smoke goes,
And the good pipe glimmers and fades and glows;
In its throat it chuckles a cheery song,
For I...Read more of this...
by
Kipling, Rudyard
...to the beat of his dying heart,
The Devil drum on the darkened pane: "You did it, but was it Art?"
We have learned to whittle the Eden Tree to the shape of a surplice-peg,
We have learned to bottle our parents twain in the yelk of an addled egg,
We know that the tail must wag the dog, for the horse is drawn by the cart;
But the Devil whoops, as he whooped of old: "It's clever, but is it Art?"
When the flicker of London sun falls faint on the Club-room's green and gold,
The...Read more of this...
by
Service, Robert William
...gulls wait greedily.
And sometimes it leads to an Arctic trail, and the snows where your torn feet freeze,
And you whittle away the useless clay, and crawl on your hands and knees.
Often it leads to the dead-pit; always it leads to pain;
By the bones of your brothers ye know it, but oh, to follow you're fain.
By your bones they will follow behind you, till the ways of the world are made plain.
Bid good-by to sweetheart, bid good-by to friend;
The Lone Trail,...Read more of this...
by
Chaucer, Geoffrey
...he blade.
A jolly popper* bare he in his pouch; *dagger
There was no man for peril durst him touch.
A Sheffield whittle* bare he in his hose. *small knife
Round was his face, and camuse* was his nose. *flat
As pilled* as an ape's was his skull. *peeled, bald.
He was a market-beter* at the full. *brawler
There durste no wight hand upon him legge*, *lay
That he ne swore anon he should abegge*. *suffer the penalty
A thief he was, for sooth, o...Read more of this...
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