Top 10 (and more) Best Poems Ever Written

Best Poems of All Time

My Top 10 Favorite Classic Poems (Inspirational Poems)

1. Desiderata - by Max Ehrmann
2. If - by Rudyard Kipling
3. Let These Be Your Desires - by Khalil Gibran
4. Auguries of Innocence - by William Blake
5. Ode to Autumn - by John Keats
6. Death - by John Donne
7. Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night - by Dylan Thomas
8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening - Robert Frost
9. Oh Captain! My Captain! - by Walt Whitman
10. Invictus - by William Ernest Henley

I have 2 more Favorite Poems...

1. Youth - by Theodore Roosevelt
2. The Rainbow - by Susan Jane Hobbs

My Top 5 Favorite Love Poems (Poems about Love)

1. She Walks in Beauty - by Lord Byron
2. Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day (Sonnet 18) - by William Shakespeare
3. How Do I Love Thee - by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
4. Love Is Not Love Which Alters When It Alteration Finds (Sonnet 116) - by William Shakespeare
5. Love's Philosophy - by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The best poems ever :) - amae
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Poetry: Invictus by William Ernest Henley

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 Horrow of the shade,
And yet the manace of the years
Finds, and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.

~ William Ernest Henley
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Poetry: Oh Captain! My Captain! by Walt Whitman

Oh Captain! My Captain! (by Walt Whitman)

Oh Captain! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the price 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 oh heart! Heart! Heart!
Oh the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

Oh Captain! My Captain! Rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up - for you - the flag is flung - for you the buggle trills; 10;
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 oh shores, and ring oh bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

~ Walt Whitman
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Poetry: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

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.

~ Robert Frost
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Poetry: Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas

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.

~ Dylan Thomas
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Poetry: Death by John Donne

Death (by John Donne)

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so:
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not; poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy picture be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow.
And soonest our best men with thee do go -
Rest of their bones and soul's delivery!
Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke. Why swell'st thou then?
 One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
 And Death shall be no more: Death thou shalt die!

~ John Donne
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Poetry: Ode to Autumn by John Keats

Ode to Autumn (by John Keats)

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun

Conspiring with him how to load and bless,

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage trees
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease
For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cell.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fumes of the poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watches the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir, the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, bourne aloft,
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourne;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

~ John Keats

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Poetry: Auguries of Innocence by William Blake

Auguries of Innocence (by William Blake)

To see a World in a grain of sand
And Heaven in a wild flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

A robin red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a rage.
A Dove House fill'd with doves and pigeons
Shudders Hell thro' all its regions.
A dog starv'd at his Master's Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State.
A horse misus'd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human Blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare,
A fiber from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game cock clipp'd and arm'd for fight,
Does the Rising Sun affright.
Every wolf and lion's howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul.
The wild deer wand'ring here and there,
Keeps the Human Soul from care.
The lamb misus'd breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the Butcher's Knife.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that 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 belov'd by Men.
He who the ox to wrath has mov'd
Shall never be by Woman lov'd.
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 Last Judgment draweth nigh.
He who shall train the horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.
The gnat that sings his Summer's song,
Poison gets from Slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of Envy's Foot.
The poison of the honey bee
Is the Artist's Jealousy.
The Prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the Miser's Bags.
A Truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right, it should be so; -
Man was made for Joy and Woe; -
And when this we rightly know,
Thro' the World we safely go.
Joy and Woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the Soul divine.
Under every grief and pine,
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The Babe is more than swaddling bands;
Throughout all these Human Lands,
Tools were made, and born were hands;
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity.
This is caught by Females bright,
And return'd to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow and roar
Are waves that beat on Heaven's Shore.
The Babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of Death.
The beggar's rags, fluttering in air,
Does to rags the Heavens tear.
The soldier arm'd with sword and gun,
Palsied strikes the Summer's sun.
The poor Man's farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold in Afric's Shore.
One mite wrung from the lab'rer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands;
Or if protected from on High,
Does that whole Nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the Infant's Faith
Shall be mock'd in Age and Death.
He who shall teach the Child in doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects the Infant's Faith
Triumphs over Hell and Death.
The Child's Toys and the Old Man's Reasons
Are the fruits of the two Seasons.
The questioner, who sits to sly
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out.
The strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesar's Laurel Crown.
Nought can deform the Human Race
Like the armour's iron brace.
When Gold and Gems adorn the plow,
To peaceful Arts shall Envy bow.
A riddle or the cricket's cry
Is to doubt a fit reply.
The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame Philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
If the Sun and Moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a Passion you Good may do,
But no Good if a Passion is in you.
The whore and gambler, by the State
Licenc'd, build that Nation's Fate.
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave Old England's winding sheet.
The Winner's Shout, the Loser's Curse
Dance before dead England's hearse.
Every night and every morn,
Some to misery be born.
Every morn and every night,
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight;
Some are born to endless night.
We are led to believe a lie
When we see not thro' the Eye,
Which was born in a night to perish in a night
When the Soul slept in beams of Light.
God appears and God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in the night,
But does a Human Form display
To those who dwell in realms of day?

~ William Blake

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Poetry: Let These Be Your Desires by Khalil Gibran

Let These Be Your Desires (by Khalil Gibran)

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself;
But if your love and must needs have desires,
Let these be your desires:

To melt and be like the running brook
That sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness,
To be wounded by your own understanding of love,
And to bleed willingfully and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart,
And to give thanks for another day of loving.
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstacy,
To return home at eventide with gratitude,
And then to sleep with a prayer
For the beloved in your heart
And a song of praise upon your lips.

~ Khalil Gibran

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Poetry: If by Rudyard Kipling

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 imposters 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 all 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 sinnew
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; -
Your is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

~ Rudyard Kipling
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Poetry: Desiderata by Max Ehrmann

Desiderata (by Max Ehrmann)

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
And remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
Be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
And listen to others,
Even to the dull and ignorant -
They too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons -
They are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
You may become vain or bitter,
For always,
There will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career,
However humble -
It is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,
For the world is full of trickery;
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is -
Many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
For in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
It is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
Gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit,
To shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings -
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the Universe,
No less than the trees and the stars -
You have the right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
No doubt the Universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
In the noisy confusion of life,
Keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
It is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

~ Max Ehrmann

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Poetry: Youth by Theodore Roosevelt

Youth (by Theodore Roosevelt)

I want to see you game boys,
I want to see you brave and manly,
and I also want to see you gentle and tender.
Be practical as well as generous in your ideals.
Keep you eyes on the stars
and keep your feet on the ground.
Courage, hard work, self mastery and intelligent effort
are all essential to successful life.
Character, in the long run,
is the decisive factor in the life of an individual and of nations alike.

~ Theodore Roosevelt

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Poetry: The Rainbow by Susan Jane Hobbs

The Rainbow (by Susan Jane Hobbs)

Elusive,
mystical,
Intricate but beautiful,
With colours so bright,
Yet
looking so tranquil,
Children follow it,
Lovers live on it,
Dreamers
chase it,
But none fulfill the desire to hold it.
But it shines
Together with rain and sunshine.
And as if to remind us
That after
sorrow comes hope,
After heartbreak comes cheer,
After rain comes
sunshine
And the rainbow.

~ Susan Jane Hobbs

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