Cool poems
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Dicky
© Robert Graves
To-night across the down,
Whistling and jolly,
I sauntered out from town
With my stick of holly.
The Sisters
© Judith Wright
In the vine-shadows on the veranda;
under the yellow leaves, in the cooling sun,
sit two sisters. Their slow voices run
like little winter creeks, dwindled by frost and wind,
and the square of sunlight moves on the veranda.
The Black Knight. (From The German Of Uhland)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
'Twas Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness,
When woods and fields put off all sadness,
Thus began the King and spake:
So from the halls
Of ancient Hofburgh's walls,
A luxuriant Spring shall break.
Epilogue
© David Herbert Lawrence
Patience, little Heart.
One day a heavy, June-hot woman
Will enter and shut the door to stay.
Craving for Spring
© David Herbert Lawrence
I trample on the snowdrops, it gives me pleasure to tread down the jonquils,
to destroy the chill Lent lilies;
for I am sick of them, their faint-bloodedness,
slow-blooded, icy-fleshed, portentous.
The Wild Common
© David Herbert Lawrence
The quick sparks on the gorse bushes are leaping,
Little jets of sunlight-texture imitating flame;
Above them, exultant, the peewits are sweeping:
They are lords of the desolate wastes of sadness their screamings proclaim.
King Solomon And The Queen Of Sheba
© Vachel Lindsay
[The mens leader rises as he sees the Queen unveiling
and approaching a position that gives her half of the stage.]
The Palm-Tree
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Is it the palm, the cocoa-palm,
On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm?
Or is it a ship in the breezeless calm?
The Pine Woods Of Grijo
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Our voices break on a stillness bright and strange
Of early morning. Pines upon either hand
People the sunshine: deep as eye can range,
Their lofty throngs in a darkling order stand.
The Lady Visitor In The Pauper Ward
© Robert Graves
Why do you break upon this old, cool peace,
This painted peace of ours,
A Baby Running Barefoot
© David Herbert Lawrence
I long for the baby to wander hither to me
Like a wind-shadow wandering over the water,
So that she can stand on my knee
With her little bare feet in my hands,
Cool like syringa buds,
Firm and silken like pink young peony flowers.
One Day And Another: A Lyrical Eclogue Part I
© Madison Julius Cawein
Herein the dearness of her is;
The thirty perfect days of June
Made one, in maiden loveliness
Were not more sweet to clasp and kiss,
With love not more in tune.
To Baynard Taylor
© Sidney Lanier
To range, deep-wrapt, along a heavenly height,
O'erseeing all that man but undersees;
To loiter down lone alleys of delight,
And hear the beating of the hearts of trees,
And think the thoughts that lilies speak in white
By greenwood pools and pleasant passages;
The Waving Of The Corn
© Sidney Lanier
Ploughman, whose gnarly hand yet kindly wheeled
Thy plough to ring this solitary tree
With clover, whose round plat, reserved a-field,
In cool green radius twice my length may be --
The Symphony
© Sidney Lanier
And yet shall Love himself be heard,
Though long deferred, though long deferred:
O'er the modern waste a dove hath whirred:
Music is Love in search of a word."
The Jacquerie A Fragment
© Sidney Lanier
Chapter I.Once on a time, a Dawn, all red and bright
Leapt on the conquered ramparts of the Night,
And flamed, one brilliant instant, on the world,
Then back into the historic moat was hurled
A Twilight Moth
© Madison Julius Cawein
Dusk is thy dawn; when Eve puts on its state
Of gold and purple in the marbled west,
