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Famous Dog Poems by Famous Poets

These are examples of famous Dog poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous dog poems. These examples illustrate what a famous dog poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).

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Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry
...My dog has died.
I buried him in the garden
next to a rusted old machine.

Some day I'll join him right there,
but now he's gone with his shaggy coat,
his bad manners and his cold nose,
and I, the materialist, who never believed
in any promised heaven in the sky
for any human being,
I believe in a heaven I'll never enter.
Yes, I believe in a heaven ...Read more of this...
by Neruda, Pablo



...the stack a thin blue wreath of smoke
Curled through the air across the ripening oats,
And on the hill the yellow house-dog bayed
As through the crisp and rustling fern the heavy cattle strayed.

And when the light-foot mower went afield
Across the meadows laced with threaded dew,
And the sheep bleated on the misty weald,
And from its nest the waking corncrake flew,
Some woodmen saw him lying by the stream
And marvelled much that any lad so beautiful could seem,

Nor deem...Read more of this...
by Wilde, Oscar
...the piano and gramaphone shop 
Where I used to stand 
Staring at the huge shiny pianos and at the pictures 
Of a white dog looking into a gramaphone. 

How dull and greasy and grey and sordid it was! 
On wet days -- it was always wet -- 
I used to kneel on a chair 
And look at it from the window. 

The dirty yellow trams 
Dragged noisily along 
With a clatter of wheels and bells 
And a humming of wires overhead. 
They threw up the filthy rain-water from the hollo...Read more of this...
by Aldington, Richard
...heir children get caught shoplifting at the mall 
and no one admits that it is poetry they are missing. 
The family dog howls all night, 
lonely and starving for more poetry in his life. 
Why is it so difficult for them to see
that, without poetry, their lives are effluvial.
Sure, they have their banquets, their celebrations, 
croquet, fox hunts, their sea shores and sunsets, 
their cocktails on the balcony, dog races,
and all that kissing and hugging, and don't 
...Read more of this...
by Tate, James
...s natural desire, 
He asks no Angel's wing, no Seraph's(8) fire; 
But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, 
His faithful dog shall bear him company.

IV. Go, wiser thou! and in thy scale of sense 
Weigh thy Opinion against Providence; 
Call Imperfection what thou fancy'st such, 
Say, here he gives too little, there too much; 
Destroy all creatures for thy sport or gust,(9) 
Yet cry, If Man's unhappy, God's unjust; 
If Man alone ingross not Heav'n's high care, 
Alone ma...Read more of this...
by Pope, Alexander



...rd back with his bleating flocks from the seaside,
Where was their favorite pasture. Behind them followed the watch-dog,
Patient, full of importance, and grand in the pride of his instinct,
Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and superbly
Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward the stragglers;
Regent of flocks was he when the shepherd slept; their protector,
When from the forest at night, through the starry silence, the wolves howled.
Late, with the rising ...Read more of this...
by Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth
.... 
I am God, la de dah. 
Peanut butter is the American food. 
We all eat it, being patriotic. 

Ms. Dog is out fighting the dollars, 
rolling in a field of bucks. 
You've got it made if you take the wafer, 
take some wine, 
take some bucks, 
the green papery song of the office. 
What a jello she could make with it, 
the fives, the tens, the twenties, 
all in a goo to feed the baby. 
Andrew Jackson as an hors d'oeuvre, 
la de dah. 
I wish I ...Read more of this...
by Sexton, Anne
...er reached that rage which passed his art; 
Chance finished that which art could but begin, 
And he sat smiling how his dog did grin. 
So mayst thou p?rfect by a lucky blow 
What all thy softest touches cannot do. 

Paint then St Albans full of soup and gold, 
The new court's pattern, stallion of the old. 
Him neither wit nor courage did exalt, 
But Fortune chose him for her pleasure salt. 
Paint him with drayman's shoulders, butcher's mien, 
Membered like mul...Read more of this...
by Marvell, Andrew
...d man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worke...Read more of this...
by Hughes, Langston
...
I did'nt have to prove
anything.

I began to see things:
coffe cups lined up
behind a counter in a 
cafe.
or a dog walking along
a sidewalk.
or the way the mouse
on my dresser top
stopped there
with its body,
its ears,
its nose,
it was fixed,
a bit of life
caught within itself
and its eyes looked 
at me
and they were
beautiful.
then- it was
gone.

I began to feel good,
I began to feel good
in the worst situations
and there were plenty
of those.
like s...Read more of this...
by Bukowski, Charles
...n gone,
As I walked toward
Her house, the one whose
Porch light burned yellow
Night and day, in any weather.
A dog barked at me, until
She came out pulling
At her gloves, face bright
With rouge. I smiled,
Touched her shoulder, and led
Her down the street, across
A used car lot and a line
Of newly planted trees,
Until we were breathing
Before a drugstore. We
Entered, the tiny bell
Bringing a saleslady
Down a narrow aisle of goods.
I turned to ...Read more of this...
by Soto, Gary
...et and light and warm, in spite of all
The illimitable dark and cold and storm,
And by so doing give these three, lamp, dog,
And book-leaf, that keep near you, their repose;
Though for all anyone can tell, repose
May be the thing you haven’t, yet you give it.
So false it is that what we haven’t we can’t give;
So false, that what we always say is true.
I’ll have to turn the leaf if no one else will.
It won’t lie down. Then let it stand. Who cares?”

“I shou...Read more of this...
by Frost, Robert
...o pass the night, 
Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill’d game;
Falling asleep on the gather’d leaves, with my dog and gun by my side. 

The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails—she cuts the sparkle and scud; 
My eyes settle the land—I bend at her prow, or shout joyously from the
 deck. 

The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me; 
I tuck’d my trowser-ends in my boots, and went and had a good time:
(You should have been with us that d...Read more of this...
by Whitman, Walt
...w,
And wise men shall govern you,
And you shall weep for me.

"But yoke me my own oxen,
Down to my own farm;
My own dog will whine for me,
My own friends will bend the knee,
And the foes I slew openly
Have never wished me harm."

And all were moved a little,
But Colan stood apart,
Having first pity, and after
Hearing, like rat in rafter,
That little worm of laughter
That eats the Irish heart.

And his grey-green eyes were cruel,
And the smile of his mouth waxed ha...Read more of this...
by Chesterton, G K
...de the limestone look like chalk. 
It was too late for any people, 
Twelve struck as we went by the steeple. 
A dog barked, and an owl was calling, 
The squire's brook was still a-falling, 
The carved heads on the church looked down 
On "Russell, Blacksmith of this Town," 
And all the graves of all the ghosts 
Who rise on Christmas Eve in hosts 
To dance and carol in festivity 
For joy of Jesus Christ's Nativity 
(Bell-ringer Dawe and his two sons 
Beheld 'em from the...Read more of this...
by Masefield, John
...ning came, the neat attire  With which, though bent on haste, myself I deck'd;  My watchful dog, whose starts of furious ire,  When stranger passed, so often I have check'd;  The red-breast known for years, which at my casement peck'd.   The suns of twenty summers danced along,—  Ah! little marked, how fast they rolled away:  Then rose a stately hall our woods among,&n...Read more of this...
by Wordsworth, William
...cared. I simply had been too offhand about it, lazy, too
unconcerned. I deserved my death and hers. I was a dog. No, why blame the dogs? I got up
and found a bottle of wine and drank from it heavily. Cass the most beautiful girl in town
was dead at 20. Outside somebody honked their automobile horn. They were very loud and
persistent. I sat the bottle down and screamed out: "GOD DAMN YOU, YOU SON OF A *****
,SHUT UP!" The night kept coming and t...Read more of this...
by Bukowski, Charles
...your garden,
"Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
"Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
"Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,
"Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!
"You! hypocrite lecteur! - mon semblable, - mon frere!"
II. A GAME OF CHESS
 The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Glowed on the marble, where the glass
Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
From which a golden Cupidon peeped out 
(Another hid his eyes behin...Read more of this...
by Eliot, T S (Thomas Stearns)
...f old in Bretagne.

10. "Cagnard," or "Caignard," a French term of reproach,
originally derived from "canis," a dog.

11. Parage: birth, kindred; from Latin, "pario," I beget.

12. Norice: nurse; French, "nourrice."

13. This and the previous quotation from Ptolemy are due to
the Dame's own fancy.

14. (Transcriber's note: Some Victorian censorship here. The
word given in [brackets] should be "queint" i.e. "****".)

15.<...Read more of this...
by Chaucer, Geoffrey
...olyphemes, by many a name,
Centaurs and Satyrs, and such shapes as haunt
Wet clefts,--and lumps neither alive nor dead,
Dog-headed, bosom-eyed, and bird-footed.

For she was beautiful. Her beauty made
The bright world dim, and everything beside
Seemed like the fleeting image of a shade.
No thought of living spirit could abide
(Which to her looks had ever been betrayed)
On any object in the world so wide,
On any hope within the circling skies,--
But on her form, an...Read more of this...
by Shelley, Percy Bysshe

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Book: Reflection on the Important Things