# What's your favourite poem? **URL:** \ **Category:** Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share\ **Created:** [September 21, 2000, 7:52pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041 "2000-09-21T19:52:28Z")\ **Posts on this page:** 16\ **Page:** 4
**Author:** ![dubs](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/d/d6d6ee/32.png) [@dubs](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/dubs)\ **Post date:** [September 24, 2000, 11:53pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041/61 "2000-09-24T23:53:29Z")
My favorite is “Remember” from Christina 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. And “Sudden Light” by her brother Dante Gabriel Rossetti I have been here before, But when or how I cannot tell: I know the grass beyond the door, The sweet keen smell, The sighing sound, the lights around the shore. You have been mine before, How long ago I may not know: But just when at that swallow’s soar Your neck turned so, Some veil did fall, I knew it all of yore. Then, now, perchance again! O round mine eyes your tresses shake! Shall we not lie as we have lain Thus for love’s sake, And sleep, and wake, yet never break the chain? ---
**Author:** ![Wonko\_The\_Sane](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/w/258eb7/32.png) [@Wonko\_The\_Sane](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Wonko_The_Sane)\ **Post date:** [September 25, 2000, 3:34am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041/62 "2000-09-25T03:34:30Z")
Here’s my current favorite: _ **A heart Torn Two Ways** _ A heart torn in two ways One preservation One companionship and love. One fear One freedom and happiness. One logic One feeling Love is never logical, It tears my heart apart. I fear both I want both. I can only have one Who will win? -John Watson… He still doesn’t know the answer… ---
**Author:** ![BigGiantHead](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/b/b4bc9f/32.png) [@BigGiantHead](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/BigGiantHead)\ **Post date:** [September 25, 2000, 4:10am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041/63 "2000-09-25T04:10:14Z")
Okay, I was beginning to think I was the only heathen here who enjoys comic verse, but since Kilt Wearin’ Man mentioned it, here goes: JABBERWOCKY 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. `Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!’ He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought– So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought. And as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. `And has thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’ He chortled in his joy. 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. I mean, it’s the ultimate in subjectivism and letting your mind fill in the blanks - different for every listener. Plus, the world has enough reality. Now and again you have to just let go and fantasize! I love practically all of Mr. Dodgson’s work. However, for sheer impudent lunacy, nothing touches: FATHER WILLIAM ‘You are old, Father William,’ the young man said, ‘And your hair has become very white; And yet you incessantly stand on your head– Do you think, at your age, it is right?’ ‘In my youth,’ Father William replied to his son, ‘I feared it might injure the brain; But, now that I’m perfectly sure I have none, Why, I do it again and again.’ ‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘as I mentioned before, And have grown most uncommonly fat; Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door– Pray, what is the reason of that?’ ‘In my youth,’ said the sage, as he shook his grey locks, ‘I kept all my limbs very supple By the use of this ointment–one shilling the box– Allow me to sell you a couple?’ ‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘and your jaws are too weak For anything tougher than suet; Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak– Pray how did you manage to do it?’ ‘In my youth,’ said his father, ‘I took to the law, And argued each case with my wife; And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw, Has lasted the rest of my life.’ ‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘one would hardly suppose That your eye was as steady as ever; Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose– What made you so awfully clever?’ ‘I have answered three questions, and that is enough,’ Said his father; ‘don’t give yourself airs! Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff? Be off, or I’ll kick you down stairs!’ Aahhh, I feel better already. Hugs to all, and keep up the good work! And remember, “the Big Giant Head cares about YOU.” ---
**Author:** ![relic\_11](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/r/50afbb/32.png) [@relic\_11](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/relic_11)\ **Post date:** [September 25, 2000, 4:32am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041/64 "2000-09-25T04:32:46Z")
My favroite’s are: Anne Bradstreet To My Dear and Loving Husband If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were lov’d by wife, then thee; If ever wife was happy in a man, Compare with me ye women if you can. I prize thy love more then whole Mines of gold, Or all the riches that the East doth hold. My love is such that Rivers cannot quench, Nor ought but love from thee, give recompence. Thy love is such I can no way repay, The heavens reward thee manifold I pray. Then while we live, in love let’s so persever, That when we live no more, we may live ever. ```auto Denise Duhamel Buddhist Barbie In the 5th century B.C. an Indian philosopher Gautama teaches "All is emptiness" and "There is no self." In the 20th century A.D. Barbie agrees, but wonders how a man with such a belly could pose, smiling, and without a shirt. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Robert Burns A Red, Red, Rose O, my love is like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June. O my love is like the melodie, That's sweetly played in tune. As fair thou art, my bonie lass, So deep in love am I, And I will love thee still, my dear, till a' the seas gang dry. Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun! And I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. And fare the weel, my only love, And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my love, Though it were ten thousand mile! And all that my fiancee write about me... check out http://www.poetry.com in the search box, under last name, type fiarman. Thats me! :o ``` ---
**Author:** ![dpr](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/d/8797f3/32.png) [@dpr](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/dpr)\ **Post date:** [September 25, 2000, 5:26am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041/65 "2000-09-25T05:26:39Z")
Without doubt \*\* The Hunting of The Snark \*\* by Lewis Carrol. It’s way too long to post, however I highly recommend it to those who have yet to do so. I also like \*\* The Man From Snowy River \*\*. Yes, a tad parochial and patriotic but it tells a great tale. ---
**Author:** ![Kilt-wearin\_man](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/k/82dd89/32.png) [@Kilt-wearin\_man](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Kilt-wearin_man)\ **Post date:** [September 25, 2000, 6:53am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041/66 "2000-09-25T06:53:22Z")
Ah, another who appreciates Burns. Glad to see it, Relic\_11. He wrote so many great poems. He also wrote some really odd ones, many of which have to do with Haggis. You can check out all (I think they got all of 'em) of his poems at [http://www.robertburns.org](http://www.robertburns.org) if you’re interested. ---
**Author:** ![xekul](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/x/838e76/32.png) [@xekul](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/xekul)\ **Post date:** [September 25, 2000, 7:21pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041/67 "2000-09-25T19:21:04Z")
> [@](#): > > \*Originally posted by ProudAmerican \* > \*\*Fleas > _by Ogden Nash_ > > Adam had 'em. \*\* Close… I’ve only come across one shorter poem. It’s called ``The Philosopher’’ and it’s by that prolific writer Anonymous. > [@](#): > > I. > Why? ---
**Author:** ![Estrella](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/e/7ba0ec/32.png) [@Estrella](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Estrella)\ **Post date:** [September 25, 2000, 7:37pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041/68 "2000-09-25T19:37:49Z")
_Who Goes with Fergus?_ by Yeats and _Ulysses_ by Tennyson are my favorites. Both figure heavily into Joyce’s **Ulysses** , my favorite novel and subject of my senior English writing project. “And no more turn aside and brood Upon love’s bitter mystery;…” ---
**Author:** ![hypergirl](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/h/49beb7/32.png) [@hypergirl](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/hypergirl)\ **Post date:** [October 7, 2000, 3:25am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041/69 "2000-10-07T03:25:15Z")
OK, I have to do it… The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright– And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night. The moon was shining sulkily, Because she thought the sun Had got no business to be there After the day was done– “It’s very rude of him,” she said, “To come and spoil the fun!” The sea was wet as wet could be, The sands were dry as dry. You could not see a cloud, because No cloud was in the sky: No birds were flying overhead– There were no birds to fly. The Walrus and the Carpenter Were walking close at hand; They wept like anything to see Such quantities of sand: “If this were only cleared away,” They said, “it would be grand!” “If seven maids with seven mops Swept it for half a year. Do you suppose,” the Walrus said, “That they could get it clear?” “I doubt it,” said the Carpenter, And shed a bitter tear. “O Oysters, come and walk with us!” The Walrus did beseech. “A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, Along the briny beach: We cannot do with more than four, To give a hand to each.” The eldest Oyster looked at him, But never a word he said: The eldest Oyster winked his eye, And shook his heavy head– Meaning to say he did not choose To leave the oyster-bed. But four young Oysters hurried up, All eager for the treat: Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, Their shoes were clean and neat– And this was odd, because, you know, They hadn’t any feet. Four other Oysters followed them, And yet another four; And thick and fast they came at last, And more, and more, and more– All hopping through the frothy waves, And scrambling to the shore. The Walrus and the Carpenter Walked on a mile or so, And then they rested on a rock Conveniently low: And all the little Oysters stood And waited in a row. “The time has come,” the Walrus said, “To talk of many things: Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax– Of cabbages–and kings– And why the sea is boiling hot– And whether pigs have wings.” “But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried, “Before we have our chat; For some of us are out of breath, And all of us are fat!” “No hurry!” said the Carpenter. They thanked him much for that. “A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said, “Is what we chiefly need: Pepper and vinegar besides Are very good indeed– Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear, We can begin to feed.” “But not on us!” the Oysters cried, Turning a little blue. “After such kindness, that would be A dismal thing to do!” “The night is fine,” the Walrus said. "Do you admire the view? “It was so kind of you to come! And you are very nice!” The Carpenter said nothing but “Cut us another slice: I wish you were not quite so deaf– I’ve had to ask you twice!” “It seems a shame,” the Walrus said, “To play them such a trick, After we’ve brought them out so far, And made them trot so quick!” The Carpenter said nothing but “The butter’s spread too thick!” “I weep for you,” the Walrus said: “I deeply sympathize.” With sobs and tears he sorted out Those of the largest size, Holding his pocket-handkerchief Before his streaming eyes. “O Oysters,” said the Carpenter, "You’ve had a pleasant run! Shall we be trotting home again?’ But answer came there none– And this was scarcely odd, because They’d eaten every one. ---
**Author:** ![BornDodgy](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/b/e19b73/32.png) [@BornDodgy](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/BornDodgy)\ **Post date:** [January 6, 2001, 6:02pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041/70 "2001-01-06T18:02:45Z")
I cant decide which I like best… Well I ll post all three… Just have to search for an English version of Erlkönig… I dont know if it is a good translation… but here we go… **Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: Erlkönig/Erl King** Who’s riding so late where winds blow wild It is the father grasping his child; He holds the boy embraced in his arm, He clasps him snugly, he keeps him warm. “My son, why cover your face in such fear?” “You see the elf-king, father? He’s near! The king of the elves with crown and train!” “My son, the mist is on the plain.” ‘Sweet lad, o come and join me, do! Such pretty games I will play with you; On the shore gay flowers their color unfold, My mother has many garments of gold.’ “My father, my father, and can you not hear The promise the elf-king breathes in my ear?” “Be calm, stay calm, my child, lie low: In withered leaves the night-winds blow.” ‘Will you, sweet lad, come along with me? My daughters shall care for you tenderly; In the night my daughters their revelry keep, They’ll rock you and dance you and sing you to sleep.’ “My father, my father, o can you not trace The elf-king’s daughters in that gloomy place?” “My son, my son, I see it clear How grey the ancient willows appear.” ‘I love you, your comeliness charms me, my boy! And if you’re not willing, my force I’ll employ.’ “Now father, now father, he’s seizing my arm. Elf-king has done me a cruel harm.” The father shudders, his ride is wild, In his arms he’s holding the groaning child, Reaches the court with toil and dread. - The child he held in his arms was dead. **Brandon Marshall: Thought a little piece of love** thought a little piece of love yesterday in the heart of my mind sitting there crying with death supposing the mortal beauty of this always despairful sleepless night. And then I awoke from an everpeaceful slumber at the rain on my eyebrows or the wind in your hair; so you knew that I was awake, you pinched my ego. With flinching panic we played a leaving game and made promising lies which we knew were a poor investment of words but still I awoke: you make me seem real, at least **Brandon Marshall: God is only happy when its fall** God is only happy when it’s fall so that cunning skin doesn’t crawl in the warm lack of everything beginning in the lapis lazulian reality of a sky that only is lovers’ eyes in the warm lack of everything wet at birth, now dry with a fingertiped yearning at something forgiven to the tingly, tingly smile forgotten still in the warm lack of everything for the property of being tucked in by matronly smelling wind and soft relaxation of a beastly world in a coaxedly cathartic sigh of a small little man who is at home on a little world in the warm lack of everything knowingly only that nothing like somethings can be ivory skin youth memoried dancing quiet refletions of mercuial pools of time with floating red and orange and yellow (not green) in the warm lack of everything ---
**Author:** ![Tansu](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/t/67e7ee/32.png) [@Tansu](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Tansu)\ **Post date:** [January 6, 2001, 8:52pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041/71 "2001-01-06T20:52:01Z")
My favourite (_This is just to say_, by William Carlos Williams) has already been posted. This is _Underwear_ by Lawrence Ferlinghetti. I didn’t get much sleep last night thinking about underwear Have you stopped to consider underwear in the abstract When you really dig into it some shocking problems are raised Underwear is something we all have to deal with Everyone wears some kind of underwear Even Indians wear underwear Even Cubans wear underwear The Pope wears underwear I hope Underwear is worn by Negroes The Governor of Louisiana wears underwear I saw him on TV He must have had really tight underwear He squirmed a lot Underwear can really get you in a bind Negroes often wear white underwear which may lead to trouble You have seen the underwear ads for men and women so alike but so different Women’s underwear holds things up Men’s underwear holds things down Underwear is one thing men and women have in common Underwear is all we have between us You have seen the three-color pictures with crotches encircled to show the areas of extra strength and three-way stretch promising full freedom of action Don’t be deceived It’s all based on the two-party system which doesn’t allow much freedon of choice the way things are set up America in its Underwear struggles thru the night Underwear controls everything in the end Take foundation garments for instance They are really fascist forms of underground government making people believe something but the truth telling you what you can or can’t do Did you ever try to get round a girdle Perhaps Non-Violent Action is the only answer Did Gandhi wear a girdle? Did Lady Macbeth wear a girdle? Was that why Macbeth murdered sleep? And that spot she was always rubbing – Was it really in her underwear? Modern anglosaxon ladies must have huge guilt complexes always washing and washing and washing Out damned spot – rub don’t blot Underwear with spots very suspicious Underwear with bulges very shocking Underwear on clothesline a great flag of freedom someone has escaped his Underwear May be naked somewhere Help! But don’t worry Everybody’s still hung up in it There won’t be no real revolution and poetry still the underwear of the soul And underwear still covering a multitude of faults in the geological sense – strange sedimentary stones, inscrutable cracks! And that only the beginning For does not the body stay alive after death and still need its underwear or outgrow it some organs said to reach full maturity only after the head stops holding them back? If I wer you I’d keep aside an oversize pair of winter underwear Do not go naked into that good night And in the meantime keep calm and warm and dry No use stirring ourselves up prematurely ‘over Nothing’ Move forward with dignity hand in vest Don’t get emotional and death shall have no dominion There’s plenty of time my darling Are we not still young and easy Don’t shout ---
**Author:** ![Brynda](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/b/e79b87/32.png) [@Brynda](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Brynda)\ **Post date:** [January 6, 2001, 9:54pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041/72 "2001-01-06T21:54:54Z")
W. H. Auden’s Song IX of Twelve Songs Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the nourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, My East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good. When my best friend died in 1990, he was in the US and I was in Kenya. No one with me knew him, so I was not with anyone else who was mourning, nor could I go to the funeral. The hardest part about that was the fact that the entire world around me kept on exactly as it had. My internal world was _so_ changed, but the external world…no change at all. A year or so later, I found this and it expressed exactly how I felt: My world was so changed by his death that time itself should stop. Trivia: This is read by the chief mourner in Three Weddings and a Funeral. ---
**Author:** ![Skwerl](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/258eb7/32.png) [@Skwerl](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Skwerl)\ **Post date:** [January 6, 2001, 11:09pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041/73 "2001-01-06T23:09:39Z")
These two always give me goosebumps: No man is an Iland, intire of it selfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine: if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a Mannor of thy friends or of thine owne were; any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee. —John Donne, “For Whom the Bell Tolls” and 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 I could To where it bent in the under growth; 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. —Robert Frost, “The Road Less Traveled” ---
**Author:** ![TruePisces](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/truepisces/32/13628_2.png) [@TruePisces](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/TruePisces)\ **Post date:** [January 7, 2001, 4:55am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041/74 "2001-01-07T04:55:17Z")
I’ve got several, but my favorite would have to be Nothing Gold Can Stay by Frost. It reminds me of my childhood, and a very strong friendship. Nothing Gold Can Stay Nature’s first green is gold Her hardest hue to hold Her early leaves aflower But only so an hour Then leaf subsides to leaf So Eden sank with grief So dawn goes down to day Nothing gold can stay. (Of course, my second favorite would have to be the one that I wrote and got published! 😉 ) TruePisces ---
**Author:** ![Rosethorn](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/r/ee7513/32.png) [@Rosethorn](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Rosethorn)\ **Post date:** [January 7, 2001, 5:17am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041/75 "2001-01-07T05:17:32Z")
this is one of my absolute favorite poems…boosts that self confidance after a terrible date or other bad experiences that revolve around the male sex… ``` Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size But when I start to tell them, They think I'm telling lies. I say, It's in the reach of my arms The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me. I walk into a room Just as cool as you please, And to a man, The fellows stand or Fall down on their knees. Then they swarm around me, A hive of honey bees. I say, It's the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth, The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet. I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me. Men themselves have wondered What they see in me. They try so much But they can't touch My inner mystery. When I try to show them They say they still can't see. I say, It's in the arch of my back, The sun of my smile, The ride of my breasts, The grace of my style. I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me. Now you understand Just why my head's not bowed. I don't shout or jump about Or have to talk real loud. When you see me passing It ought to make you proud. I say, It's in the click of my heels, The bend of my hair, the palm of my hand, The need of my care, 'Cause I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me. ``` ---
**Author:** ![Rosethorn](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/r/ee7513/32.png) [@Rosethorn](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Rosethorn)\ **Post date:** [January 7, 2001, 5:19am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041/76 "2001-01-07T05:19:44Z")
oops! forgot to give credit to Maya Angelou for that one… [Previous page](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/whats-your-favourite-poem/34041.md?page=3)