Tennyson's "Locksley Hall" is one of the better known examples of trochaic octameter. Like many trochaic meters, it is cut short at the end by catalexis, omitting a final unstressed syllable so as to end on a stress. Also, most of the lines are so strongly split by a caesura that they can almost be read as pairs of tetrameters.

                   /   *  |  /    * |   /     * | /    *   |   /   *  |  /       *    |  /    *  |    /         (*)
                Saying, "I have hid my feelings, fearing they should do me wrong";
                Saying, "Dost thou love me, cousin?" weeping, "I have loved thee long."

                Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands;
                Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands.

                Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might;
                Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.

Here is a poem by Mathilde Blind, in the same meter:

      WHAT a twitter! what a tumult! what a whirr of wheeling wings!
      Birds of Passage hear the message which the Equinoctial brings.
 

      Birds of Passage hear the message and beneath the flying clouds,
      Mid the falling leaves of autumn, congregate in clamorous crowds.
 

      Shall they venture on the voyage? are the nestlings fledged for flight;
      Fit to face the fluctuant storm-winds and the elemental night?
 

      What a twitter! what a tumult! to the wild wind's marching song
      Multitudinous Birds of Passage round the cliffs of England throng.
 

      And o'er tempest-trodden Ocean, cloud-entangled day and night,
      Birds on birds, in corporate motion, wing a commonwealth in flight.
 

      Waves, like hollow graves beneath them, hoarsely howling, yawn for prey;
      And the welkin glooms above them shifting formless, grey in grey.
 

      And across the Bay of Biscay on undaunted wing they flee,
      Where mild seas move musically murmuring of the Odyssey;
 

      Where the gurgling whirlpools glitter and by soft Circean Straits,
      Fell Charybdis lies in ambush, and the ravenous Scylla waits;
 

      Where a large Homeric laughter lingers in the echoing caves,
      And in playful exultation Dolphins leap from dimpling waves;
 

      Where, above the fair Sicilian, flock-browsed, flower-pranked meadows, looms
      Ætna--hoariest of Volcanoes--ominously veiled in fumes;
 

      Where the seas roll blue and bluer, high and higher arch the skies,
      And as measureless as ocean new horizons meet the eyes;
 

      Where at night the ancient heavens bend above the ancient earth,
      With the young-eyed Stars enkindled fresh as at their hour of birth;
 

      Where old Egypt's desert, stretching leagues on leagues of level land,
      Gleams with threads of channelled waters, green with palms on either hand;
 

      Where the Fellah strides majestic through the glimmering dourah plain,
      And in rosy flames flamingoes rise from rustling sugar-cane;--
 

      On and on, along old Nilus, seeking still an ampler light,
      O'er its monumental mountains, Birds of Passage take their flight.
 

      Where the sacred Isle of Philæ, twinned within the sacred stream,
      Floats, like some rapt Opium-eater's labyrinthine lotos dream,
 

      Birds on birds take up their quarters in each creviced capital,
      In each crack of frieze and cornice, in each cleft of roof and wall.
 

      And within those twilight-litten, holy halls of Death and Birth,
      Even the gaily twittering swallows, even the swallows, hush their breath.
 

      And they cast the passing shadows of their palpitating wings
      O'er the fallen gods of Egypt and the prostrate heads of Kings.
 

      Even as shadows Birds of Passage cast upon their onward flight
      Have men's generations vanished, waned and vanished into night.

Another famous example is Poe's "The Raven." Some of these lines are catalectic and others fill out the trochaic meter with feminine rhymes:

                     Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
                       Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
                         While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
                        As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door,
                         "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-

And here are some lines from Browning's "A Toccata of Galuppi's":

`                            "Dust and ashes!'' So you creak it, and I want the heart to scold.
                            Dear dead women, with such hair, too---what's become of all the gold
                            Used to hang and brush their bosoms? I feel chilly and grown old.

Robert Service wrote numerous poems in this meter, including these lines from "The Song of the Camp-Fire":
 

            Heed me, feed me, I am hungry, I am red-tongued with desire;
            Boughs of balsam, slabs of cedar, gummy fagots of the pine,
            Heap them on me, let me hug them to my eager heart of fire,
            Roaring, soaring up to heaven as a symbol and a sign.
            Bring me knots of sunny maple, silver birch and tamarack;
            Leaping, sweeping, I will lap them with my ardent wings of flame;
            I will kindle them to glory, I will beat the darkness back;
            Streaming, gleaming, I will goad them to my glory and my fame.