This page is specially prepared for student poems. You can reach newest and popular student poems from this page. You can vote and comment on the student poems you read.
My dear beloved parents,
You cared & raised me,
Sent school to learn,
Made me what I am today,
The roaring alongside he takes for granted,
and that every so often the world is bound to shake.
He runs, he runs to the south, finical, awkward,
in a state of controlled panic, a student of Blake.
When Youth's warm heart beats high, my friend,
And Youth's blue sky is bright,
And shines in Youth's clear eye, my friend,
Love's early dawning light,
To you, my comrades, whether far or near,
I send this message. Let our past revive;
Come, sound reveille to our hearts once more.
Expecting, I shall wait till at my door
The boy is hungry,and what does it do,he set for food
how does it get food because he is not working and the
option is going to the parents and the parents have no option
than to give food to the boy who is just a student and his work is
It is a light, that the wind has extinguished.
It is a pub on the heath, that a drunk departs in the afternoon.
It is a vineyard, charred and black with holes full of spiders.
It is a space, that they have white-limed with milk.
The Spartan Boy
When I the memory repeat
Of the heroic actions great,
Which, in contempt of pain and death,
Were done by men who drew their breath
When I Have Borne In Memory
WHEN I have borne in memory what has tamed
Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts depart
When men change swords for ledgers, and desert
The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed
A Hidden Life
Proudly the youth, sudden with manhood crowned,
Went walking by his horses, the first time,
That morning, to the plough. No soldier gay
Feels at his side the throb of the gold hilt
At last you're tired of this elderly world
Shepherdess O Eiffel Tower this morning the bridges are bleating
I just didn't get it-
even with the teacher holding an orange (the earth) in one hand
and a lemon (the moon) in the other,
her favorite student (the sun) standing behind her with a flashlight.
All roads that lead to God are good;
What matters it, your faith, or mine;
Both centre at the goal divine
Of love's eternal Brotherhood.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
The Great God Guff
There was once a Simple People - (you, of course, will understand
This is just a little fable of a non-existent land)
There was once a Simple People, and they had a Simple King,
And his name - well, SMITH the First will do as well as anything
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
At the Poem Society a black-haired man stands up to say
-You make me sick with all your talk about restraint and mature talent!
Dust are our frames; and gilded dust, our pride
Looks only for a moment whole and sound;
Like that long-buried body of the king,
Found lying with his urns and ornaments,
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Fair is the wedded reign of Night and Day.
Each rules a half of earth with different sway,
Exchanging kingdoms, East and West, alway.
Are You Looking For Me?
Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat.
My shoulder is against yours.
you will not find me in the stupas, not in Indian shrine
rooms, nor in synagogues, nor in cathedrals:
The Mad Yak
I am watching them churn the last milk they'll ever get from me.
They are waiting for me to die;
They want to make buttons out of my bones.
Where are my sisters and brothers?
with apologies to Lord Tennyson
O swallow-tailed purveyor of college sprees,
O skilled to please the student fraternity,
Robert Fuller Murray
The Student Gone
So soon he fell, the world will never know
What possibilities within him lay,
What hopes irradiated his young life,
With high ambition and with ardor rife;
I'm ran over by love,
All I see in you dove,
Call me crazy?
Yeah, I can be only for you,
My student-lamp is lighted,
The books and papers are spread;
A sound comes floating upwards,
Chasing the thoughts from my head.
By J. M. Barrie and H. B. Marriott Watson, Criterion Theatre, April 16, 1891.
To other boards for pun and song and dance!
Our purpose is an essay in romance:
William Ernest Henley
(To Marcel Schwob in friendship and in admiration)
In a dim corner of my room for longer than
my fancy thinks
He was tall and tough and stringy, with the shoulders of an axeman,
Broad and loose, with greenhide muscles, and a hand shaped to the reins;
He was slow of speech and prudent, something of a nature student,
With the eye of one who gazes long across the saltbush plains.
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Here, in the twilight, at the well-known gate
I linger, with no heart to enter more.
Among the elm-tops the autumnal air
Murmurs, and spectral in the fading light
Thomas Bailey Aldrich
The Art Of The Lathe
Leonardo imagined the first one.
The next was a pole lathe with a drive cord,
illustrated in Plumier's L'art de tourner en perfection.
Then Ramsden, Vauconson, the great Maudslay,
B H Fairchild