Famous Sad Poems

Famous Sad Poems

The Saddest Classic Poems

Coping with sadness can be quite a challenge. Many famous poets understood that whether one feels sadness because of a breakup, the loss of a loved one, illness, or another of life's many injustices, one of the best ways to vent this complicated emotion is through poetry. Many famous poets used their words to turn sadness into something tangible, making it easier to understand. Poems that deal with sadness have often helped their writers to identify the true source of their sadness. They can also help readers to feel understood and less alone.

38 Poems about Sadness and Depression by Famous Poets

  1. 1. Solitude

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    "Solitude" is Ella Wheeler Wilcox's most famous poem. The idea for the poem came as she was traveling to Madison, Wisconsin, to attend the Governor's inaugural ball. On her way to the celebration, there was a young woman dressed in black sitting across the aisle from her. The woman was crying. Miss Wheeler sat next to her and sought to comfort her for the rest of the journey. When they arrived, the poet was so unhappy that she could barely attend the festivities. As she looked at her own face in the mirror, she suddenly recalled the sorrowful widow. It was at that moment that she wrote the opening lines of "Solitude." It was first published in an 1883 issue of The New York Sun.

    Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
        Weep, and you weep alone;
    For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
        But has trouble enough of its own.
    Sing, and the hills will answer;
        Sigh, it is lost on the air;
    The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
        But shrink from voicing care.

    Rejoice, and men will seek you;
        Grieve, and they turn and go;
    They want full measure of all your pleasure,
        But they do not need your woe.
    Be glad, and your friends are many;
        Be sad, and you lose them all,
    There are none to decline your nectared wine,
        But alone you must drink life's gall.

    Feast, and your halls are crowded;
        Fast, and the world goes by.
    Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
        But no man can help you die.
    There is room in the halls of pleasure
        For a large and lordly train,
    But one by one we must all file on
        Through the narrow aisles of pain.

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  3. 2. Alone

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    The poem "Alone" was written by Edgar Allan Poe (January 19, 1809 - October 7, 1849) in 1829. It was written by Poe when he was only 20 and describes his own inner torment at that young age. The poem was not published until 1875, long after his death.

    From childhood’s hour I have not been
    As others were—I have not seen
    As others saw—I could not bring
    My passions from a common spring—
    From the same source I have not taken
    My sorrow—I could not awaken
    My heart to joy at the same tone—
    And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—
    Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
    Of a most stormy life—was drawn
    From ev’ry depth of good and ill
    The mystery which binds me still—
    From the torrent, or the fountain—
    From the red cliff of the mountain—
    From the sun that ‘round me roll’d
    In its autumn tint of gold—
    From the lightning in the sky
    As it pass’d me flying by—
    From the thunder, and the storm—
    And the cloud that took the form
    (When the rest of Heaven was blue)
    Of a demon in my view—

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  5. 3. Fire And Ice

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    A poem about the end of days, when the world will end by either fire or ice. "Fire and Ice" is one of Robert Frost's most popular poems. It was first published in 1920 in Harper's Magazine.

    Some say the world will end in fire,
    Some say in ice.
    From what I've tasted of desire
    I hold with those who favor fire.
    But if it had to perish twice,
    I think I know enough of hate
    To say that for destruction ice
    Is also great
    And would suffice.

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  6. 4. A Dream Within A Dream

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    Poe is describing feelings of desperation and sadness at the passing of time, and comparing it to a dream. He wishes he could hold on to just a moment of his life. He questions if anything in life is real or is it all "but a dream within a dream?"

    "A Dream Within a Dream" by Edgar Allan Poe was first published in 1849.

    Take this kiss upon the brow!
    And, in parting from you now,
    Thus much let me avow —
    You are not wrong, who deem
    That my days have been a dream;
    Yet if hope has flown away
    In a night, or in a day,
    In a vision, or in none,
    Is it therefore the less gone? 
    All that we see or seem
    Is but a dream within a dream.

    I stand amid the roar
    Of a surf-tormented shore,
    And I hold within my hand
    Grains of the golden sand —
    How few! yet how they creep
    Through my fingers to the deep,
    While I weep — while I weep!
    O God! Can I not grasp
    Them with a tighter clasp?
    O God! can I not save
    One from the pitiless wave?
    Is all that we see or seem
    But a dream within a dream?

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  7. 5. A Hero

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    Robert William Service was a British-Canadian author who lived from 1874-1958. He spent much of his early career years as a banker, but his dream was to be a cowboy. This poem shows the dark side of a person, someone who wishes to kill another, and in the end decides it's better to kill himself.

    Three times I had the lust to kill,
    To clutch a throat so young and fair,
    And squeeze with all my might until
    No breath of being lingered there.
    Three times I drove the demon out,
    Though on my brow was evil sweat. . . .
    And yet I know beyond a doubt
    He'll get me yet, he'll get me yet.

    I know I'm mad, I ought to tell
    The doctors, let them care for me,
    Confine me in a padded cell
    And never, never set me free;
    But Oh how cruel that would be!
    For I am young - and comely too . . .
    Yet dim my demon I can see,
    And there is but one thing to do.

    Three times I beat the foul fiend back;
    The fourth, I know he will prevail,
    And so I'll seek the railway track
    And lay my head upon the rail,
    And sight the dark and distant train,
    And hear its thunder louder roll,
    Coming to crush my cursed brain . . .
    Oh God, have mercy on my soul!

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  8. 6. We Wear The Mask

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    Both of Paul Laurence Dunbar’s parents were slaves, and he was born less than a decade after slavery became illegal. “We Wear the Mask” was published in 1896. Dunbar wrote about what it was like to be African American during the late 1800s and the pain experienced by the black community. In this poem, he writes about how the truth is not always what it appears to be when a mask is used. In addition to applying to race and society, this poem can be applied to any situation where someone uses a mask to hide the truth.

    We wear the mask that grins and lies,
    It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
    This debt we pay to human guile;
    With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
    And mouth with myriad subtleties.

    Why should the world be over-wise,
    In counting all our tears and sighs?
    Nay, let them only see us, while
           We wear the mask.

    We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
    To thee from tortured souls arise.
    We sing, but oh the clay is vile
    Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
    But let the world dream otherwise,
           We wear the mask!

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  9. 7. Richard Cory

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    A narrative poem, "Richard Cory" was first published in 1897, as part of The Children of the Night. It is one of Robinson's most popular and published poems. The poem describes a person who is wealthy, well-educated, mannerly, and admired by the people in his town. Despite all this, he takes his own life.

    Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
    We people on the pavement looked at him:
    He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
    Clean favored, and imperially slim.

    And he was always quietly arrayed,
    And he was always human when he talked;
    But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
    "Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

    And he was rich - yes, richer than a king -
    And admirably schooled in every grace:
    In fine, we thought that he was everything
    To make us wish that we were in his place.

    So on we worked, and waited for the light,
    And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
    And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
    Went home and put a bullet through his head.

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  10. 8. Mirror

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    Sylvia Plath was an American author and poet who lived from 1932-1963. She was a driven person, and she graduated summa cum laude from Smith College in 1955. Despite her success, Plath struggled with depression, and committed suicide in 1963. This poem shows the struggle a woman has with her identity as she grows older and begins to lose her youthfulness. It also uses personification by giving human characteristics to the mirror.

    I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
    Whatever I see I swallow immediately
    Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
    I am not cruel, only truthful,
    The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
    Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
    It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
    I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
    Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

    Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
    Searching my reaches for what she really is.
    Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
    I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
    She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
    I am important to her. She comes and goes.
    Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
    In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
    Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

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  11. 9. It's Fine Today

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    In this world, we face troubles of many kinds. Things are not always going to go our way. Some people wallow in that misery, but others have a positive perspective and can push past the trouble they face. What makes the difference? Douglas Malloch (1877-1938) shares the answer in this poem. When we don’t focus on our problems, they get smaller and smaller. We can’t worry about what happened in the past or what could happen in the future. Instead, we need to look at what is positive for us today. Douglas Malloch came from simple roots, and that simplicity is seen in the dialect of this poem.

    Sure, this world is full of trouble
         I ain't said it ain't.
    Lord, I've had enough and double
         Reason for complaint;
    Rain and storm have come to fret me,
         Skies are often gray;
    Thorns and brambles have beset me
         On the road — but say,
         Ain't it fine today?

    What's the use of always weepin',
         Making trouble last?
    What's the use of always keepin'
         Thinkin' of the past?
    Each must have his tribulation —
         Water with his wine;
    Life, it ain't no celebration,
         Trouble? — I've had mine —
         But today is fine!

    It's today that I am livin',
         Not a month ago.
    Havin'; losin'; takin'; givin';
         As time wills it so.
    Yesterday a cloud of sorrow
         Fell across the way,
    It may rain again tomorrow,
         It may rain — but say,
         Ain't it fine today?

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    Wow, this poem gives a cool perspective on life. This poem makes one realize worrying doesn't help.

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  12. 10. On Another's Sorrow

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    This poem was published in Songs of Innocence in 1789. The innocence suggested within the poem is that sympathy alone can comfort and heal.

    Can I see another's woe,
    And not be in sorrow too?
    Can I see another's grief,
    And not seek for kind relief?

    Can I see a falling tear,
    And not feel my sorrow's share?
    Can a father see his child
    Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?

    Can a mother sit and hear
    An infant groan, an infant fear?
    No, no!  never can it be!
    Never, never can it be!
    And can He who smiles on all
    Hear the wren with sorrows small,
    Hear the small bird's grief and care,
    Hear the woes that infants bear --

    And not sit beside the next,
    Pouring pity in their breast,
    And not sit the cradle near,
    Weeping tear on infant's tear?

    And not sit both night and day,
    Wiping all our tears away?
    Oh no! never can it be!
    Never, never can it be!
    He doth give his joy to all:
    He becomes an infant small,
    He becomes a man of woe,
    He doth feel the sorrow too.

    Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
    And thy Maker is not by:
    Think not thou canst weep a tear,
    And thy Maker is not near.

    Oh He gives to us his joy,
    That our grief He may destroy:
    Till our grief is fled an gone
    He doth sit by us and moan.

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  13. 11. Acquainted With The Night

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    “Acquainted With The Night” was published in 1928. It has themes of sadness and isolation. The narrator avoids contact with people and tries to escape his despair. The narrator doesn’t want to let anyone in, which continues his cycle of loneliness. Robert Frost himself was familiar with despair. At the time of writing this poem, he had already lost two children. Two more of his six children would pass away before him in later years. This poem includes symbols such as night (depression) and the moon (hope). It’s written as a “terza rima,” which is a poem made up of tercets (three-line stanzas). Within those stanzas, the ending word of the second line sets up the rhyme of the first and third lines of the next stanza.

    I have been one acquainted with the night.
    I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
    I have outwalked the furthest city light.

    I have looked down the saddest city lane.
    I have passed by the watchman on his beat
    And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

    I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
    When far away an interrupted cry
    Came over houses from another street,

    But not to call me back or say good-bye;
    And further still at an unearthly height,
    One luminary clock against the sky

    Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
    I have been one acquainted with the night

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  14. 12. I Measure Every Grief I Meet

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    In this poem, the speaker compares her grief to the grief of those around her. She talks about the different types of grief and tries to make this emotion tangible. Emily Dickinson’s poems have consistent components, and this poem follows many of them: dashes, capitals in the middle of lines, and four-line stanzas.

    I measure every Grief I meet
    With narrow, probing, eyes –
    I wonder if It weighs like Mine –
    Or has an Easier size.

    I wonder if They bore it long –
    Or did it just begin –
    I could not tell the Date of Mine –
    It feels so old a pain –

    I wonder if it hurts to live –
    And if They have to try –
    And whether – could They choose between –
    It would not be – to die –

    I note that Some – gone patient long –
    At length, renew their smile – 
    An imitation of a Light
    That has so little Oil –

    I wonder if when Years have piled – 
    Some Thousands – on the Harm – 
    That hurt them early – such a lapse
    Could give them any Balm – 

    Or would they go on aching still
    Through Centuries of Nerve –
    Enlightened to a larger Pain – 
    In Contrast with the Love – 

    The Grieved – are many – I am told – 
    There is the various Cause – 
    Death – is but one – and comes but once – 
    And only nails the eyes – 

    There's Grief of Want – and grief of Cold – 
    A sort they call "Despair" – 
    There's Banishment from native Eyes –
    In sight of Native Air – 

    And though I may not guess the kind – 
    Correctly – yet to me
    A piercing Comfort it affords
    In passing Calvary – 

    To note the fashions – of the Cross – 
    And how they're mostly worn – 
    Still fascinated to presume
    That Some – are like my own –

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  15. 13. One Art

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    Possibly her most famous poem, Elizabeth Bishop's,"One Art" is a villanelle, a 6 stanza poem that consists of five tercets (3 line stanzas), and one concluding quatrain (4 line stanza). For more about this challenging poetry form see How To Write a Villanelle.
    This poem is about loss and starts off light with a touch of humor, but loss is certainly not a humorous topic and as the stanzas go on the losses mount. Losing our most precious possessions, our friends and loved ones is a most difficult burden. Bishop lost both her parents as a child. Her father died when she was an infant and her mother was committed to an Insane Asylum when she was five. She never saw her mother again and grew up in the homes of various relatives.

    The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
    so many things seem filled with the intent
    to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

    Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
    of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
    The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

    Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
    places, and names, and where it was you meant
    to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

    I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
    next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
    The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

    I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
    some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
    I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

    —Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
    I love) I shan’t have lied.  It’s evident
    the art of losing’s not too hard to master
    though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

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  16. 14. Circus In Three Rings

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    Sylvia Plath was an American poet who lived from 1932-1963. Sylvia’s dad died during her childhood, and her husband left her for another woman. She experienced heartbreak and depression that ultimately led to her commit suicide at the age of 30. Her poetry was raw and honest, which can be seen in the chaos she captures in this poem. First published in The Atlantic Monthly in 1955, the hurricane mentioned in the poem could be compared to the personal struggles that swirled inside of her.

    In the circus tent of a hurricane
    designed by a drunken god
    my extravagant heart blows up again
    in a rampage of champagne-colored rain
    and the fragments whir like a weather vane
    while the angels all applaud.

    Daring as death and debonair
    I invade my lion's den;
    a rose of jeopardy flames in my hair
    yet I flourish my whip with a fatal flair
    defending my perilous wounds with a chair
    while the gnawings of love begin.

    Mocking as Mephistopheles,
    eclipsed by magician's disguise,
    my demon of doom tilts on a trapeze,
    winged rabbits revolving about his knees,
    only to vanish with devilish ease
    in a smoke that sears my eyes.

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  17. 15. Leisure

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    We are often in such a hurry in life that we move from one thing to the next without stopping to notice the beauty around us. Famous poet W.H. Davies (1871-1940) reminds us that life passes by quickly, and he encourages readers to take moments to “stand and stare.” W.H. Davies was a Welsh poet who devoted himself to writing poetry in his late 20s. Many of his poems were filled with themes of hardship and the natural world.

    What is this life if, full of care,
    We have no time to stand and stare

    No time to stand beneath the boughs,
    And stare as long as sheep and cows

    No time to see, when woods we pass,
    Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass

    No time to see, in broad daylight,
    Streams full of stars, like skies at night

    No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
    And watch her feet, how they can dance

    No time to wait till her mouth can
    Enrich that smile her eyes began

    A poor life this if, full of care,
    We have no time to stand and stare

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  18. 16. I Sit And Look Out

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    “I Sit and Look Out” captures the corruption of the world. Walt Whitman, an influential American poet, lived in the 1800s, a time that saw things like political slander, Trail of Tears, slavery, and the Civil War. In this poem, the speaker is merely an onlooker, not someone to get involved in all these negative affairs of society. However, readers might be inspired to do their part to create a positive influence on the world that will lessen the destruction.

    I SIT and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all
            oppression and shame;
    I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with
            themselves, remorseful after deeds done;
    I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying,
            neglected, gaunt, desperate;
    I see the wife misused by her husband—I see the treacherous seducer
            of young women;
    I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love, attempted to be
            hid—I see these sights on the earth;
    I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny—I see martyrs and
            prisoners;
    I observe a famine at sea—I observe the sailors casting lots who
            shall be kill'd, to preserve the lives of the rest;
    I observe the slights and degradations cast by arrogant persons upon
            laborers, the poor, and upon negroes, and the like;
    All these—All the meanness and agony without end, I sitting, look
            out upon,
    See, hear, and am silent.

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  19. 17. Miss Rosie

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    Lucille Clifton was an American poet who lived from 1936-2010. Many of her poems show a theme of having strength through adversity. In this poem, a passerby finds Miss Rosie along the street, and she hurls insult after insult at the homeless lady. But this old lady used to be the most beautiful lady in all of Georgia. The last line of the poem changes the tone that was used at the beginning.

    when I watch you
    wrapped up like garbage
    sitting, surrounded by the smell
    of too old potato peels
    or
    when I watch you
    in your old man's shoes
    with the little toe cut out
    sitting, waiting for your mind
    like next week's grocery
    I say
    when I watch you
    you wet brown bag of a woman
    who used to be the best looking gal in Georgia
    used to be called the Georgia Rose
    I stand up
    through your destruction
    I stand up

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  20. 18. An Irish Airman Foresees His Death

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    William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) was an Irish poet. This poem was written in 1918, near the end of World War I, and published the following year. In it, the speaker is coming to terms with the reality that he could die in the war. The speaker shares that the war will not make life better or worse. William Butler Yeats was highly involved in Ireland's politics, but the speaker of this poem did not fight in the war for political reasons. Instead, it was an “impulse of delight.” This poem does not have any stanza breaks, but it does follow the ABAB rhyme scheme.

    I know that I shall meet my fate
    Somewhere among the clouds above;
    Those that I fight I do not hate,
    Those that I guard I do not love;
    My country is Kiltartan Cross,
    My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
    No likely end could bring them loss
    Or leave them happier than before.
    Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
    Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
    A lonely impulse of delight
    Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
    I balanced all, brought all to mind,
    The years to come seemed waste of breath,
    A waste of breath the years behind
    In balance with this life, this death.

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  21. 19. Winter Stars

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    Sara Teasdale, famous American poet born in 1884, was born to a wealthy family in Missouri and had many successes in her career. However, she fought depression and ultimately committed suicide in 1933. In this poem, the speaker is comforted by the constant presence of the stars. No matter where she went, she knew she could always see the stars high in the sky. Even as life changes ("years go, dreams go, and youth goes too…"), there are certain things that are unwavering. Sometimes we need to keep our eyes focused on those things.

    I went out at night alone;
      The young blood flowing beyond the sea
    Seemed to have drenched my spirit’s wings—
      I bore my sorrow heavily.

    But when I lifted up my head
      From shadows shaken on the snow,
    I saw Orion in the east
      Burn steadily as long ago.

    From windows in my father’s house,
      Dreaming my dreams on winter nights,
    I watched Orion as a girl
      Above another city’s lights.

    Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too,
       The world’s heart breaks beneath its wars,
    All things are changed, save in the east
      The faithful beauty of the stars.

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  22. 20. When I Have Fears

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    In this poem, John Keats (1795-1821) shares the fear of dying before accomplishing all he set out to do or finding the love he desires. We all have different things we want to achieve in life, and we don’t know how much time we will have to do them. Keats and his parents all died at a young age. Even though John Keats died at the age of 25, he had an incredible poetry career.

    When I have fears that I may cease to be
       Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,
    Before high-pilèd books, in charactery,
       Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;
    When I behold, upon the night’s starred face,
       Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
    And think that I may never live to trace
       Their shadows with the magic hand of chance;
    And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
       That I shall never look upon thee more,
    Never have relish in the faery power
       Of unreflecting love—then on the shore
    Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
    Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

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    My brief thoughts on what I believe makes this poem a Classic. We all want to make and leave a mark in life. We all have anxiety. I want to fear not life or death but take the chance called...

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