Going to (also) say "Amen" to Poe. I love the rhythm in the Raven. By the time you get into it its almost as if you're chanting....

My favourites of Poes would have to be Bridal Ballad and The Sleeper .

"A poem a day keeps the psychiatrist away."

So not 'my favourite poem', but 'a favourite poem of mine':
The Happy Child by William Henry Davies 1871-1940

I saw this day sweet flowers grow thick-
But not one like the child did pick.

I heard the pack-hounds in green park-
But no dog like the child heard bark.

I heard this day bird after bird -
But not one like the child has heard.

A hundred butterflies saw I -
But not one like the child saw fly.

I saw the horses roll in grass -
But no horse like the child saw pass.

My word this day has lovely been -
But not like what the child has seen.

Thanks for all the poems, guys. I've been a little busy with work and haven't been here for a while so it was nice to come and find some new ones.

I used 'What Do You See Nurses' as a discussion in one of my lessons the other day. The kids appreciated it - well, most of them did

Flem, that's a really lovely poem and not one I knew before. It would be a much nicer world if we could all look through the eyes of a child now and again.

More then one. Less then a dozen. Here are my favorites.
Resume / Dorothy Parker
Doleful Death of Cock Robin / Anonymous
Death of the Ball Turret Gunner / Randall Jarrell
Richard Cory / Edward Arlington Robinson
Freddie, the Rat / Don Marquis
The Hill / Edgar Lee Masters
Witches Charm from Macbeth / William Shakespeare
The Hellbound Train / Anonymous
And my favorite poem. Ogden Nash. He wrote alot of short poems with memorable rhymes, so they are easy to memorize. Enjoy!

I forget by who, h.g wodehouse, i think, but

When first my way to fair I took
few pence in purse had I;
and long I use to stand and look
at things I could not buy:

But times have altered if I care,
to buy a thing, I can
the pence are here, and here's the fair
but where's the lost young man?

Beware the Jaberwock, my son...

The fog creeps in on small cat feet...

"Twas mimsy and the borogroves did gyre and gimble in the wabe.."

lefois,

What a great choice! The Jabberwocky is total unadulterated nonsense, and I love it!! I remember having to use it as a test piece for when I was learning Wordstar (am I dating myself here?).

Two other favourite poems of mine are Colerige's "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" and the classic Aussie rhyme "The Man from Snowy River" by Banjo Patterson. Look here http://www.magna.com.au/~prfbrown/mansnowy.html
My father can recite the whole lot with such passion, it makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

Thanks Heather and Ozzy2...I wasn't very specific nor took much care with my response! But look at the miracle of poetry! Brought something back for at least two!

I guess I should say:

The fog comes on little cat feet....Carl Sandburg.

Ya know...that was the first piece of "obligatory" poetry that really moved me? Showed the power of the written word...I could FEEL that poem...I could...

It's a bit long, but I love it. The Lady Of Shallot by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. I like it 'cause it tells a story and I love Arthurian legend.

The Lady of Shallot

PART I

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road runs by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro' the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow veil'd,
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,
Down to tower'd Camelot:
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers " 'Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott."

PART II

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

And moving thro' a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot:
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village-churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls,
Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,
Goes by to tower'd Camelot;
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two:
She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot:
Or when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed:
"I am half sick of shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott.

PART III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley-sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armour rung,
Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
Moves over still Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flash'd into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces thro' the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.

PART IV

In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining,
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower'd Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.

And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seër in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance--
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.

Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right--
The leaves upon her falling light--
Thro' the noises of the night
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darken'd wholly,
Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they cross'd themselves for fear,
All the knights at Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."

We had to learn it for our assembly and all had to say a line it was so impressive.

This following poem was read at my dad's funeral last year, but I'm not sure who wrote it, so it always fills me with emotion.

My ship sets course
to cross the bar
as last call proclaims another passing
And now this weary soul departs
as your ragged banners rise
half mast
in song
I bid my old friends fare thee well
Let no tears fall at cost
from loyal eyes this night
For in your faithful heart of hearts
allow truth to candle lights

Think not of me in grief and sadness
for I have risen from my pain
And now as I surely leave earth’s realm
With your love I shall always remain

So
set forth one rose
on fair ocean’s water
Drop one pearl of dew
for your tears
Then send me away
in the honour of day
As an old sailor fades
and bids you well cheers

Ah! Sun-flower

Ah, Sun-flower! Weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun,
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done:

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale Viegin shrouded in snow
Arise from their graves, and aspire
Where my sunflower wishes to go.

Nice choice, Amberg. I used to read The Lady of Shallot to my kids when they were babies, the rhythm used to send them to sleep. Doesn't work on them now though!!!!!!

And thanks for sharing the one from your Dad's funeral, it's a wonderfully moving poem. Maybe someone can tell us who wrote it.

I love the first world war poets and my favourite would have to be Dulce Et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen.