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,
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
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 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
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.
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
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
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
(To Marcel Schwob in friendship and in admiration)
In a dim corner of my room for longer than
my fancy thinks
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.
My student-lamp is lighted,
The books and papers are spread;
A sound comes floating upwards,
Chasing the thoughts from my head.
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
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:
with apologies to Lord Tennyson
O swallow-tailed purveyor of college sprees,
O skilled to please the student fraternity,
Robert Fuller Murray
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!
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;
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?
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
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.
At last you're tired of this elderly world
Shepherdess O Eiffel Tower this morning the bridges are bleating
The Princess (part Iv)
'There sinks the nebulous star we call the Sun,
If that hypothesis of theirs be sound'
Said Ida; 'let us down and rest;' and we
Down from the lean and wrinkled precipices,
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I'm ran over by love,
All I see in you dove,
Call me crazy?
Yeah, I can be only for you,
Soldier, wake - the day is peeping,
Honour ne'er was won in sleeping,
Never when the sunbeams still
Lay unreflected on the hill:
Sir Walter Scott
Said Myrtias (a Syrian student
in Alexandria; in the reign of
Augustus Constans and Augustus Constantius;
in part a pagan, and in part a christian);
Constantine P. Cavafy
The Old Sexton
I know very well t'was purty hard case
If dere 's not on de worl' some beeger place
Dan village of Cote St. Paul,
But we got mebbe sixty-five house or more
William Henry Drummond
Prayer Of Pan Cogito - Traveller
Thank you for creating the world beautiful and of such variety
And also for allowing me in your inexhaustible goodness
To visit places which were not the scene of my daily torments
Shrine of my mind, my Library!
Each morn I greet thee with delight,
When, soul-refreshed, I bring to thee
The benediction of the night;
John L. Stoddard
You think it is a sorry thing
That I am blind. Your pitying
Is welcome to me; yet indeed,
I think I have but little need
James Whitcomb Riley
THERE was a youth--but woe is me :
I quite forgot his name, and he,
Without some label round his neck,
Is like one pea among a peck.