31 of the Best and Most Famous Short Classic Poems Of All Time
We all enjoy a little bit of poetry every
now and then. Poetry can be so beautiful, rhythmic, and meaningful; it’s no
wonder that poetry has had a long history dating all the way back to
prehistoric times. While I won’t be showing any of classic poems from ancient
hunting hieroglyphics, there many classic poems that can be truly amazing to
read.
Because
poetry is such a personal thing,
I’m listing classic poems that are the best to me. The best poetry for you may
be different. I’m not necessarily looking for rhyme or specific literary tools
like assonance, alliteration, or onomatopoeias. I’m looking for poems that
really resonate me and made me feel a certain way or gave me a different
perspective on life.
Here
are some of the best classical poetry for you to enjoy. If you’re looking for
more poems to fill your thirst for poetry (or want a place to share your
poetry), .
1. “No
Man Is An Island” by John Donne
No man is an island,
Entire
of itself,
Every
man is a piece of the continent,
A
part of the main.
If a
clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe
is the less.
As
well as if a promontory were.
As
well as if a manor of thy friend’s
Or of
thine own were:
Any
man’s death diminishes me,
Because
I am involved in mankind,
And
therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It
tolls for thee.
2. “Stopping
by Woods On a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His
house is in the village though;
He
will not see me stopping here
To
watch his woods fill up with snow.
My
little horse must think it queer
To
stop without a farmhouse near
Between
the woods and frozen lake
The
darkest evening of the year.
He
gives his harness bells a shake
To
ask if there is some mistake.
The
only other sound’s the sweep
Of
easy wind and downy flake.
The
woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I
have promises to keep,
And
miles to go before I sleep,
And
miles to go before I sleep.
3. “Still
I Rise” by Maya Angelou
You
may write me down in history
With
your bitter, twisted lies,
You
may tread me in the very dirt
But
still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does
my sassiness upset you?
Why
are you beset with gloom?
’Cause
I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping
in my living room.
Just
like moons and like suns,
With
the certainty of tides,
Just
like hopes springing high,
Still
I’ll rise.
Did
you want to see me broken?
Bowed
head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders
falling down like teardrops.
Weakened
by my soulful cries.
Does
my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t
you take it awful hard
’Cause
I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’
in my own back yard.
You
may shoot me with your words,
You
may cut me with your eyes,
You
may kill me with your hatefulness,
But
still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does
my sexiness upset you?
Does
it come as a surprise
That
I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At
the meeting of my thighs?
Out
of the huts of history’s shame
I
rise
Up
from a past that’s rooted in pain
I
rise
I’m a
black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling
and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving
behind nights of terror and fear
I
rise
Into
a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I
rise
Bringing
the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am
the dream and the hope of the slave.
I
rise
I
rise
I
rise.
4. “Shall
I Compare Thee To A Summer’s Day?” by William Shakespeare
Shall
I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou
art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough
winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And
summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime
too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And
often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And
every fair from fair sometime declines,
By
chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;
But
thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor
lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor
shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When
in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st.
So
long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So
long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
5. “There
Will Come Soft Rain” by Sara Teasdale
There
will come soft rain and the smell of the ground,
And
swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And
frogs in the pools singing at night,
And
wild plum trees in tremulous white;
Robins
will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling
their whims on a low fence-wire;
And
not one will know of the war, not one
Will
care at last when it is done.
Not
one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind
perished utterly;
And
Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would
scarcely know that we were gone.
6. “If
You Forget Me” by Pablo Neruda
I
want you to know
one
thing.
You
know how this is:
if I
look
at
the crystal moon, at the red branch
of
the slow autumn at my window,
if I
touch
near
the fire
the
impalpable ash
or
the wrinkled body of the log,
everything
carries me to you,
as if
everything that exists,
aromas,
light, metals,
were
little boats
that
sail
toward
those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well,
now,
if
little by little you stop loving me
I
shall stop loving you little by little.
If
suddenly
you
forget me
do
not look for me,
for I
shall already have forgotten you.
If
you think it long and mad,
the
wind of banners
that
passes through my life,
and
you decide
to
leave me at the shore
of
the heart where I have roots,
remember
that
on that day,
at
that hour,
I
shall lift my arms
and
my roots will set off
to
seek another land.
But
if
each day,
each
hour,
you
feel that you are destined for me
with
implacable sweetness,
if
each day a flower
climbs
up to your lips to seek me,
ah my
love, ah my own,
in me
all that fire is repeated,
in me
nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my
love feeds on your love, beloved,
and
as long as you live it will be in your arms
without
leaving mine.
7. “O
Captain! My Captain!” by Walt Whitman
O
Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship
has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The
port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While
follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O
heart! heart! heart!
O the
bleeding drops of red,
Where
on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen
cold and dead.
O
Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise
up — for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle trills;
For
you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths — for you the shores a-crowding;
For
you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here
Captain! dear father!
This
arm beneath your head;
It is
some dream that on the deck,
You’ve
fallen cold and dead.
My
Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My
father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The
ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From
fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; 20
Exult,
O shores, and ring, O bells!
But
I, with mournful tread,
Walk
the deck my Cptain lies,
Fallen
cold and dead.
8. “Fire
And Ice” by Robert Frost
Some
say the world will end in fire,
Some
say in ice.
From
what I’ve tasted of desire
I
hold with those who favor fire.
But
if it had to perish twice,
I
think I know enough of hate
To
say that for destruction ice
Is
also great
And
would suffice.
9. “The
Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost
Two
roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And
sorry I could not travel both
And
be one traveler, long I stood
And
looked down one as far as I could
To
where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then
took the other, as just as fair,
And
having perhaps the better claim
Because
it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though
as for that the passing there
Had
worn them really about the same,
And
both that morning equally lay
In
leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I
kept the first for another day!
Yet
knowing how way leads on to way
I
doubted if I should ever come back.
I
shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere
ages and ages hence:
Two
roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I
took the one less traveled by,
And
that has made all the difference.
10. “Dreams”
by Langston Hughes
Hold
fast to dreams
For
if dreams die
Life
is a broken-winged bird
That
cannot fly.
Hold
fast to dreams
For
when dreams go
Life
is a barren field
Frozen
with snow.
11. “Trees” by Joyce Kilmer
I
think that I shall never see
A poem
lovely as a tree.
A
tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against
the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A
tree that looks at God all day,
And
lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A
tree that may in summer wear
A
nest of robins in her hair;
Upon
whose bosom snow has lain;
Who
intimately lives with rain.
Poems
are made by fools like me,
But
only God can make a tree.
12. “Ozymandias”
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met
a traveller from an antique land
Who
said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand
in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half
sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And
wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell
that its sculptor well those passions read
Which
yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The
hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And
on the pedestal these words appear —
“My
name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look
on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing
beside remains. Round the decay
Of
that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The
lone and level sands stretch far away.’
13. “Love
After Love” by Derek Walcott
The
time will come
when,
with elation
you
will greet yourself arriving
at
your own door, in your own mirror
and
each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and
say, sit here. Eat.
You
will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give
wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to
itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all
your life, whom you ignored
for
another, who knows you by heart.
Take
down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the
photographs, the desperate notes,
peel
your own image from the mirror.
Sit.
Feast on your life.
14. “If” by Rudyard Kipling
If
you can keep your head when all about you
Are
losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If
you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But
make allowance for their doubting too:
If
you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or,
being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or
being hated don’t give way to hating,
And
yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If
you can dream- -and not make dreams your master;
If
you can think- -and not make thoughts your aim,
If
you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And
treat those two impostors just the same:.
If
you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted
by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or
watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And
stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;
If
you can make one heap of all your winnings
And
risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And
lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And
never breathe a word about your loss:
If
you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To
serve your turn long after they are gone,
And
so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except
the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on! ‘
If
you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or
walk with Kings- -nor lose the common touch,
If
neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If
all men count with you, but none too much:
If
you can fill the unforgiving minute
With
sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours
is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And-
-which is more- -you’ll be a Man, my son!
15. “Remember”
by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Remember
me when I am gone away,
Gone
far away into the silent land;
When
you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I
half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember
me when no more day by day
You
tell me of our future that you plann’d:
Only
remember me; you understand
It
will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet
if you should forget me for a while
And
afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For
if the darkness and corruption leave
A
vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better
by far you should forget and smile
Than
that you should remember and be sad.
16. “A
Fairy Song” by William Shakespeare
Over
hill, over dale,
Thorough
bush, thorough brier,
Over
park, over pale,
Thorough
flood, thorough fire!
I do
wander everywhere,
Swifter
than the moon’s sphere;
And I
serve the Fairy Queen,
To
dew her orbs upon the green;
The
cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In
their gold coats spots you see;
Those
be rubies, fairy favours;
In
those freckles live their savours;
I
must go seek some dewdrops here,
And
hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.
17. “Do
Not Stand At My Grave And Weep” by Mary Elizabeth Frye
Do
not stand at my grave and weep
I am
not there. I do not sleep.
I am
a thousand winds that blow.
I am
the diamond glints on snow.
I am
the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am
the gentle autumn rain.
When
you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am
the swift uplifting rush
Of
quiet birds in circled flight.
I am
the soft stars that shine at night.
Do
not stand at my grave and cry;
I am
not there. I did not die.
18. “I
Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You” by Pablo Neruda
I do
not love you except because I love you;
I go
from loving to not loving you,
From
waiting to not waiting for you
My
heart moves from cold to fire.
I
love you only because it’s you the one I love;
I
hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend
to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is
that I do not see you but love you blindly.
Maybe
January light will consume
My
heart with its cruel
Ray,
stealing my key to true calm.
In
this part of the story I am the one who
Dies,
the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because
I love you, Love, in fire and blood.
19. “A
Dream Within A Dream” by Edgar Allan Poe
Take
this kiss upon the brow!
And,
in parting from you now,
Thus
much let me avow-
You
are not wrong, who deem
That
my days have been a dream;
Yet
if hope has flown away
In a
night, or in a day,
In a
vision, or in none,
Is it
therefore the less gone?
All
that we see or seem
Is
but a dream within a dream.
I
stand amid the roar
Of a
surf-tormented shore,
And I
hold within my hand
Grains
of the golden sand-
How
few! yet how they creep
Through
my fingers to the deep,
While
I weep- while I weep!
O
God! can I not grasp
Them
with a tighter clasp?
O
God! can I not save
One
from the pitiless wave?
Is
all that we see or seem
But a
dream within a dream?
20. “How
Do I Love Thee?” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How
do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I
love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My
soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For
the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I
love thee to the level of every day’s
Most
quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I
love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I
love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I
love with a passion put to use
In my
old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I
love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With
my lost saints, — I love thee with the breath,
Smiles,
tears, of all my life! — and, if God choose,
I
shall but love thee better after death.
21. “Invictus”
by William Ernest Henley
Out
of the night that covers me,
Black
as the Pit from pole to pole,
I
thank whatever gods may be
For
my unconquerable soul.
In
the fell clutch of circumstance
I
have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under
the bludgeonings of chance
My
head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond
this place of wrath and tears
Looms
but the Horror of the shade,
And
yet the menace of the years
Finds,
and shall find, me unafraid.
It
matters not how strait the gate,
How
charged with punishments the scroll.
I am
the master of my fate:
I am
the captain of my soul.
22. “So
Tired Blues” by Langston Hughes
With
the sun in my hand
Gonna
throw the sun
Way
across the land-
Cause
I’m tired,
Tired
as I can be
23. “Warning”
by Jenny Joseph
When
I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With
a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I
shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And
satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I
shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And
gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And
run my stick along the public railings
And
make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I
shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And
pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And
learn to spit.
You
can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And
eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or
only bread and pickle for a week
And
hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But
now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And
pay our rent and not swear in the street
And
set a good example for the children.
We
must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But
maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So
people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When
suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
24. “On
The Ning Nang Nong” by Spike Milligan
On
the Ning Nang Nong
Where
the Cows go Bong!
and
the monkeys all say BOO!
There’s
a Nong Nang Ning
Where
the trees go Ping!
And
the tea pots jibber jabber joo.
On
the Nong Ning Nang
All
the mice go Clang
And
you just can’t catch ’em when they do!
So
its Ning Nang Nong
Cows
go Bong!
Nong
Nang Ning
Trees
go ping
Nong
Ning Nang
The
mice go Clang
What
a noisy place to belong
is
the Ning Nang Ning Nang Nong!!
25. “Do
Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” by Dylan Thomas
Do
not go gentle into that good night,
Old
age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage,
rage against the dying of the light.
Though
wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because
their words had forked no lightning they
Do
not go gentle into that good night.
Good
men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their
frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage,
rage against the dying of the light.
Wild
men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And
learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do
not go gentle into that good night.
Grave
men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind
eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage,
rage against the dying of the light.
And
you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse,
bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do
not go gentle into that good night.
Rage,
rage against the dying of the light.
26. “Hope
Is The Thing With Feathers” by Emily Dickinson
‘Hope’
is the thing with feathers —
That
perches in the soul —
And
sings the tune without the words —
And
never stops — at all —
And
sweetest — in the Gale — is heard —
And
sore must be the storm —
That
could abash the little Bird
That
kept so many warm —
I’ve
heard it in the chillest land —
And
on the strangest Sea —
Yet,
never, in Extremity,
It
asked a crumb — of Me.
27. “A
Poison Tree” by William Blake
I was
angry with my friend:
I
told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was
angry with my foe:
I
told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I
watered it in fears,
Night
and morning with my tears;
And I
sunned it with smiles,
And
with soft deceitful wiles.
And
it grew both day and night,
Till
it bore an apple bright.
And
my foe beheld it shine.
And
he knew that it was mine,
And
into my garden stole
When
the night had veiled the pole;
In
the morning glad I see
My
foe outstretched beneath the tree.
28. “I
Wandered Lonely As A Cloud” by William Wordsworth
I
wandered lonely as a cloud
That
floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When
all at once I saw a crowd,
A
host, of golden daffodils;
Beside
the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering
and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous
as the stars that shine
And
twinkle on the milky way,
They
stretched in never-ending line
Along
the margin of a bay:
Ten
thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing
their heads in sprightly dance.
The
waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did
the sparkling waves in glee:
A
poet could not but be gay,
In
such a jocund company:
I
gazed- and gazed- but little thought
What
wealth the show to me had brought:
For
oft, when on my couch I lie
In
vacant or in pensive mood,
They
flash upon that inward eye
Which
is the bliss of solitude;
And
then my heart with pleasure fills,
And
dances with the daffodils.
29. “Mother
To Son” by Langston Hughes
Well,
son, I’ll tell you:
Life
for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s
had tacks in it,
And
splinters,
And
boards torn up,
And
places with no carpet on the floor —
Bare.
But
all the time
I’se
been a-climbin’ on,
And
reachin’ landin’s,
And
turnin’ corners,
And
sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where
there ain’t been no light.
So,
boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t
you set down on the steps.
’Cause
you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t
you fall now —
For
I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se
still climbin’,
And
life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
30. “I
Choose The Mountain” by Howard Simon
The
low lands call
I am
tempted to answer
They
are offering me a free dwelling
Without
having to conquer
The
massive mountain makes its move
Beckoning
me to ascend
A
much more difficult path
To
get up the slippery bend
I
cannot choose both
I
have a choice to make
I
must be wise
This
will determine my fate
I
choose, I choose the mountain
With
all its stress and strain
Because
only by climbing
Can I
rise above the plain
I
choose the mountain
And I
will never stop climbing
I
choose the mountain
And I
shall forever be ascending
I
choose the mountain
31. “A
Smile To Remember” by Charles Bukowski
we
had goldfish and they circled around and around
in
the bowl on the table near the heavy drapes
covering
the picture window and
my
mother, always smiling, wanting us all
to be
happy, told me, ‘be happy Henry!’
and
she was right: it’s better to be happy if you
can
but
my father continued to beat her and me several times a week while
raging
inside his 6-foot-two frame because he couldn’t
understand
what was attacking him from within.
my
mother, poor fish,
wanting
to be happy, beaten two or three times a
week,
telling me to be happy: ‘Henry, smile!
why
don’t you ever smile?’
and
then she would smile, to show me how, and it was the
saddest
smile I ever saw
one
day the goldfish died, all five of them,
they
floated on the water, on their sides, their
eyes
still open,
and
when my father got home he threw them to the cat
there
on the kitchen floor and we watched as my mother
smiled
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