Who is Thomas Flatman

Thomas Flatman (21 February 1635 – 8 December 1688) was an English poet and miniature painter. There were several editions of his Poems and Songs (1674). One of his self-portraits is in the Victoria and Albert Museum. A portrait of Charles II is in the Wallace Collection, London. His miniatures are noted for their vitality.


Flatman was the son of a clerk in Chancery and was born in Aldersgate Street and educated at Winchester College. He went on to study at New College, Oxford. He was later called to the bar in 1662 although he seems never to have practiced as a lawyer. He was a staunch Royalist and one of his poems was to celebrate the return of Charles II in 1660 after the collapse of the Cromwellian Commonwealth.

Among his earliest verses are lin...
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Thomas Flatman Poems

  • The Sad Day
    O the sad day!
    When friends shall shake their heads, and say
    Of miserable me-
    ‘Hark, how he groans!...
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Top 10 most used topics by Thomas Flatman

Away 1 Breath 1 Death 1 Fate 1 Friend 1 Sad 1 World 1 Dear 1 Rise 1 Face 1

Thomas Flatman Quotes

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Comments about Thomas Flatman

Jdmccafferty: david with the head of goliath. by thomas flatman after domenico fetti. painted 1667. (v&a museum, london) the original, c. 1629, which belonged to charles i, sold on 16 jan 1652 (royal collection trust, hm ciii)
Elspooky: today would be the 388th birthday of the english miniature artist thomas flatman, best known for a portrait of charles ii
Chi_art_insti: ⚡art institute of chicago⚡ portrait of james butler, 1st duke of ormond (1610-1688), thomas flatman, 1700, england
P_mcpartlin: hibs: johnson; j macintyre, mcculloch, blaney, megwa, o macintyre; hamilton, laidlaw, aiken; o’connor, young. hearts: macfarlane, aitken, flatman, tait, thomas, kirk, sandilands, simpson, ross, mcluckie, rathie.
Book_addict: happy birthday to english poet and artist thomas flatman (february 12, 1635), author of the poem "the batchelors song” et al.
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Poem of the day

Robert Service Poem
The Three Bares
 by Robert Service

Ma tried to wash her garden slacks but couldn't get 'em clean
And so she thought she'd soak 'em in a bucket o' benzine.
It worked all right. She wrung 'em out then wondered what she'd do
With all that bucket load of high explosive residue.
She knew that it was dangerous to scatter it around,
For Grandpa liked to throw his lighted matches on the ground.
Somehow she didn't dare to pour it down the kitchen sink,
And what the heck to do with it, poor Ma jest couldn't think.

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