Cool poems
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Hymns Of The Marshes.
© Sidney Lanier
I have waked, I have come, my beloved! I might not abide:
I have come ere the dawn, O beloved, my live-oaks, to hide
In your gospelling glooms, -- to be
As a lover in heaven, the marsh my marsh and the sea my sea.
Corn
© Sidney Lanier
I wander to the zigzag-cornered fence
Where sassafras, intrenched in brambles dense,
Contests with stolid vehemence
The march of culture, setting limb and thorn
As pikes against the army of the corn.
Clover
© Sidney Lanier
Inscribed to the Memory of John Keats.Dear uplands, Chester's favorable fields,
My large unjealous Loves, many yet one --
A grave good-morrow to your Graces, all,
Fair tilth and fruitful seasons!
Acknowledgment.
© Sidney Lanier
I.O Age that half believ'st thou half believ'st,
Half doubt'st the substance of thine own half doubt,
And, half perceiving that thou half perceiv'st,
Stand'st at thy temple door, heart in, head out!
In Hilly-Wood
© John Clare
How sweet to be thus nestling deep in boughs,
Upon an ashen stoven pillowing me;
Faintly are heard the ploughmen at their ploughs,
But not an eye can find its way to see.
The Rock
© Madison Julius Cawein
Here, at its base, in dingled deeps
Of spice-bush, where the ivy creeps,
Peace
© Margaret Widdemer
ALL my days are clear again and gentle with forgetting,
Mornings cool with graciousness of time passed stilly by.
Evening sweet with call of birds and lilac-rose sun-setting,
And starshine does not hurt my heart nor night-winds make me cry.
A Fable
© James Russell Lowell
Two fellers, Isrel named and Joe,
One Sundy mornin' 'greed to go
Agunnin' soon 'z the bells wuz done
And meetin' finally begun,
So'st no one wouldn't be about
Ther Sabbath-breakin' to spy out.
There Were Dry Red Days
© Sharmagne Leland-St. John
by Sharmagne Leland-St.JohnThere were dry red days
Devoid of clouds
Devoid of breeze
Sound bruised
October
© Edward Thomas
The green elm with the one great bough of gold
Lets leaves into the grass slip, one by one, --
The short hill grass, the mushrooms small milk-white,
Harebell and scabious and tormentil,
Sonnet XLIII: While From the Dizzy Precipice
© Mary Darby Robinson
While from the dizzy precipice I gaze,
The world receding from my pensive eyes,
The Glow-Worm To Her Love
© Edith Nesbit
BENEATH cool ferns, in dewy grass,
Among the leaves that fringe the stream,
I hear the feet of lovers pass,
--I hide all day, and dream.
He Fell Among Thieves
© Sir Henry Newbolt
Ye have robbd, said he, ye have slaughterd and made an end,
Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead:
What will ye more of your guest and sometime friend?
Blood for our blood, they said.
Hare Drummer
© Edgar Lee Masters
Do the boys and girls still go to Siever's
For cider, after school, in late September?
Or gather hazel nuts among the thickets
On Aaron Hatfield's farm when the frosts begin?
Dunedin in the Gloaming
© Jessie Mackay
LIKE a black enamoured king whispered low the thunder
To the lights of Roslyn, terraced far asunder;
Chicago Weather
© Eugene Field
To-day, fair Thisbe, winsome girl!
Strays o'er the meads where daisies blow,
Kinsey Keene
© Edgar Lee Masters
Your attention, Thomas Rhodes, president of the bank;
Coolbaugh Wedon, editor of the Argus;
Rev. Peet, pastor of the leading church;
A.D. Blood, several times Mayor of Spoon River;
Polyphemus
© Alfred Austin
ACIS ``You are brighter than either. I cannot descry you
From radiant ripple until I come nigh you.
I lose you, I find you, again you grow dimmer,
Till round me seems nothing but shadow and shimmer.
'Tis your golden-rayed ringlets that baffle and blind me.''
A Mother's Wail
© Henry Timrod
My babe! my tiny babe! my only babe!
My single rose-bud in a crown of thorns!
My lamp that in that narrow hut of life,
Whence I looked forth upon a night of storm!
Burned with the lustre of the moon and stars!
