Cool poems
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Fancies At Leisure - II
© William Michael Rossetti
I. In Spring
The sky is blue here, scarcely with a stain
Windsor Forest
© Alexander Pope
Thy forests, Windsor! and thy green retreats,
At once the Monarch's and the Muse's seats,
A Landscape
© John Cunningham
Now that summer's ripen'd bloom
Frolics where the winter frown'd,
Stretch'd upon these banks of broom,
We command the landscape round.
Book Second [School-Time Continued]
© William Wordsworth
THUS far, O Friend! have we, though leaving much
Unvisited, endeavoured to retrace
1916 seen from 1921
© Edmund Blunden
Tired with dull grief, grown old before my day,
I sit in solitude and only hear
She Mothered Five
© Edgar Albert Guest
She mothered five!
Night after night she watched a little bed,
On Reading Shakepeare's Sonnets
© George William Lewis Marshall-Hall
THY verse is like a cool and shady well
Lying a-dream within some moss-walled close
The Borough. Letter XI: Inns
© George Crabbe
All the comforts of life in a Tavern are known,
'Tis his home who possesses not one of his own;
And to him who has rather too much of that one,
'Tis the house of a friend where he's welcome to
Of An Orchard
© Katharine Tynan
Good is an Orchard, the Saint saith,
To meditate on life and death,
With a cool well, a hive of bees,
A hermit's grot below the trees.
The Keepsake
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The tedded hay, the first-fruits of the soil,
The tedded hay and corn-sheaves in one field,
Show summer gone, ere come. The foxglove tall
Sheds its loose purple bells, or in the gust,
Fog
© Emma Lazarus
Light silken curtain, colorless and soft,
Dreamlike before me floating! what abides
Behind thy pearly veil's
Opaque, mysterious woof?
Sister Songs-An Offering To Two Sisters - Part The Second
© Francis Thompson
'Tis a vision:
Yet the greeneries Elysian
He has known in tracts afar;
Thus the enamouring fountains flow,
Those the very palms that grow,
By rare-gummed Sava, or Herbalimar. -
No Sign
© George MacDonald
O Lord, if on the wind, at cool of day,
I heard one whispered word of mighty grace;
If through the darkness, as in bed I lay,
But once had come a hand upon my face;
The Flower Of The Tropics
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
In the soft sunny regions that circle the waist
Of the globe with a girdle of topaz and gold,
Which heave with the throbbings of life where they're placed,
And glow with the fire of the heart they enfold;
Song Of Late September
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
IN this irised net I keep
All the moth-winged winds of sleep,
The Leaf
© Mikhail Lermontov
A little oak leaf tore off from its branch
Was driven o'er the steppe by a cruel gale;
Dried up and withered from the cold, the heat and sorrow
It finally alit by the Black Sea shore.
