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Famous Wren Poems by Famous Poets

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

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by Blake, William
...t won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be beloved by men.
He who the ox to wrath has moved
Shall never be by woman loved.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the ...Read More



by Thomas, Dylan
...ing another son.
Kill Time! She turns in her pain!
The oak is felled in the acorn
And the hawk in the egg kills the wren.

He who blew the great fire in
And died on a hiss of flames
Or walked the earth in the evening
Counting the denials of the grains

Clings to her drifting hair, and climbs;
And he who taught their lips to sing
Weeps like the risen sun among
The liquid choirs of his tribes.

The rod bends low, divining land,
And through the sundered water crawls
...Read More

by Wilde, Oscar
...ghs,
And on my topmost branch the blackbird made
A little nest of grasses for his spouse,
And now and then a twittering wren would light
On a thin twig which hardly bare the weight of such delight.

I was the Attic shepherd's trysting place,
Beneath my shadow Amaryllis lay,
And round my trunk would laughing Daphnis chase
The timorous girl, till tired out with play
She felt his hot breath stir her tangled hair,
And turned, and looked, and fled no more from such delightful
...Read More

by Roethke, Theodore
...nd how, once startled into talk, the light syllables leaped for her,
And she balanced in the delight of her thought,

A wren, happy, tail into the wind,
Her song trembling the twigs and small branches.
The shade sang with her;
The leaves, their whispers turned to kissing,
And the mould sang in the bleached valleys under the rose.

Oh, when she was sad, she cast herself down into such a pure depth,
Even a father could not find her:
Scraping her cheek against straw,
Sti...Read More

by Keats, John
...aid
Held her in peace: so that a whispering blade
Of grass, a wailful gnat, a bee bustling
Down in the blue-bells, or a wren light rustling
Among seer leaves and twigs, might all be heard.

 O magic sleep! O comfortable bird,
That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind
Till it is hush'd and smooth! O unconfin'd
Restraint! imprisoned liberty! great key
To golden palaces, strange minstrelsy,
Fountains grotesque, new trees, bespangled caves,
Echoing grottos, full of tumb...Read More



by Keats, John
...s;
And yet thy benediction passeth not
One obscure hiding-place, one little spot
Where pleasure may be sent: the nested wren
Has thy fair face within its tranquil ken,
And from beneath a sheltering ivy leaf
Takes glimpses of thee; thou art a relief
To the poor patient oyster, where it sleeps
Within its pearly house.--The mighty deeps,
The monstrous sea is thine--the myriad sea!
O Moon! far-spooming Ocean bows to thee,
And Tellus feels his forehead's cumbrous load.

 C...Read More

by Smart, Christopher
...for my Newcastle friends the voice of the raven and heart of the oak. 

For I bless God for every feather from the wren in the sedge to the CHERUBS and their MATES....Read More

by Marvell, Andrew
...don, all full 
Haters of fowl, to teal preferring bull: 
Gross bodies, grosser minds, and grossest cheats, 
And bloated Wren conducts them to their seats. 
Charlton advances next, whose coif does awe 
The Mitre troop, and with his looks gives law. 
He marched with beaver cocked of bishop's brim, 
And hid much fraud under an aspect grim. 
Next the lawyers' merecenary band appear: 
Finch in the front, and Thurland in the rear. 
The troop of privilege, a rabble b...Read More

by Clare, John
...bits of grey tree moss together
Amid the noisey rooky park
Beneath the firdales branches dark
The little golden crested wren
Hangs up his glowing nest agen
And sticks it to the furry leaves
As martins theirs beneath the eaves
The old hens leave the roost betimes
And oer the garden pailing climbs
To scrat the gardens fresh turnd soil
And if unwatchd his crops to spoil
Oft cackling from the prison yard
To peck about the houseclose sward
Catching at butterflys and things
Ere the...Read More

by Emerson, Ralph Waldo
...s of the *****-holder.

The God who made New Hampshire
Taunted the lofty land
With little men;--
Small bat and wren
House in the oak:--
If earth-fire cleave
The upheaved land, and bury the folk,
The southern crocodile would grieve.
Virtue palters; Right is hence;
Freedom praised, but hid;
Funeral eloquence
Rattles the coffin-lid.

What boots thy zeal,
O glowing friend,
That would indignant rend
The northland from the south?
Wherefore? to what go...Read More

by Emerson, Ralph Waldo
...kals of the *****-holder.

The God who made New Hampshire
Taunted the lofty land
With little men.
Small bat and wren
House in the oak.
If earth fire cleave
The upheaved land, and bury the folk,
The southern crocodile would grieve.

Virtue palters, right is hence,
Freedom praised but hid;
Funeral eloquence
Rattles the coffin-lid.

What boots thy zeal,
O glowing friend,
That would indignant rend
The northland from the south?
Wherefore? To what good end?
Bost...Read More

by Blake, William
...infant groan an infant fear--
No no never can it be,
Never never can it be.

And can he who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small.
Hear the small bird's grief & care
Hear the woes that infants bear--

And not sit beside the nest
Pouring pity in their breast.
And not sit the cradle near
Weeping tear on infant's tear.

And not sit both night & day.
Wiping all our tears away.
O! no never can it be.
Never never can it be.

He doth give hi...Read More

by Berry, Wendell
...ractice,
but how to be alive, as these worn
hills still tell, and some paintings
of Paul Cezanne, and this mere
singing wren, who thinks he's alive
forever, this instant, and may be....Read More

by Whitman, Walt
...

I hear the train’d soprano—(what work, with hers, is this?)
The orchestra whirls me wider than Uranus flies; 
It wrenches such ardors from me, I did not know I possess’d them; 
It sails me—I dab with bare feet—they are lick’d by the indolent
 waves; 
I am exposed, cut by bitter and angry hail—I lose my breath, 
Steep’d amid honey’d morphine, my windpipe throttled in fakes of
 death;
At length let up again to feel the puzzle of puzzles, 
And that we call BEING.Read More

by Issa, Kobayashi
...That wren--
looking here, looking there.
You lose something?...Read More

by Bryant, William Cullen
...the grove the autumn leaves lie dead; 
They rustle to the eddying gust and to the rabbit's tread; 
The robin and the wren are flown and from the shrubs the jay 5 
And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day. 

Where are the flowers the fair young flowers that lately sprang and stood 
In brighter light and softer airs a beauteous sisterhood? 
Alas! they all are in their graves the gentle race of flowers 
Are lying in their lowly beds with the f...Read More

by Lear, Edward
...There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said, "It is just as I feared! --
Two Owls and a Hen, four Larks and a Wren,
Have all built their nests in my beard....Read More

by Emerson, Ralph Waldo
...ul and sweet 
Of human youth had left the hill 
And garden,--they were bound and still. 
There's nor a sparrow or a wren, 
There's not a blade of autumn grain, 
Which the four seasons do not tend 
And tides of life and increase lend; 
And every chick of every bird, 
And weed and rock-moss is preferred. 
O ostrich-like forgetfulnesr! 
O loss of larger in the lessl 
Was there no star that could be sent, 
No watcher in the firmament, 
No angel from the countless host 
Th...Read More

by Emerson, Ralph Waldo
...beautiful and sweet
Of human youth had left the hill
And garden,—they were bound and still,
There's not a sparrow or a wren,
There's not a blade of autumn grain,
Which the four seasons do not tend,
And tides of life and increase lend,
And every chick of every bird,
And weed and rock-moss is preferred.
O ostriches' forgetfulness!
O loss of larger in the less!
Was there no star that could be sent,
No watcher in the firmament,
No angel from the countless host,
That loiters ...Read More

by Padel, Ruth
...lived - this world on fire, on storm 
Alert, till the shepherd's song 
Outside, some hyper-active yellowhammer, bulbul,
Wren, amplified in hills and woods, tell her to bestow 
A spot of notice on the dawn.
*
"I'm writing to you. Well, that's it, that's everything.
You'll laugh, but you'll pity me too. I'm ashamed of this.
I meant to keep it quiet. You'd never have known, if -
I wish - I could have seen you once a week. To mull over, day 
And night,...Read More

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