Cool poems
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The Seven Year Old Poet
© Arthur Rimbaud
And so the Mother, shutting up the duty book,
Went, proud and satisfied.
School
© Henry Van Dyke
I put my heart to school
In the world where men grow wise:
"Go out," I said, "and learn the rule;
'Come back when you win a prize.'"
Crimson Curtains Round My Mother's Bed
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Crimson curtains round my mother's bed,
Silken soft as may be;
Cool white curtains round about my bed,
For I am but a baby.
A Pastoral in Three Parts
© John Cunningham
Philomel forsakes the thorn,
Plaintive where she prates at night:
And the lark to meet the morn,
Soars beyond the shepherd's sight.
Alfred. Book VI.
© Henry James Pye
But when he views, along the tented field,
With trailing banner, and inverted shield,
Young Donald, borne by Scotia's weeping bands,
In deeper woe the generous hero stands.
The Forest Way
© Madison Julius Cawein
I climbed a forest path and found
A dim cave in the dripping ground,
Where dwelt the spirit of cool sound,
Who wrought with crystal triangles,
And hollowed foam of rippled bells,
A music of mysterious spells.
"In The Cool Of The Evening"
© Alfred Noyes
In the cool of the evening, when the low sweet whispers waken,
When the laborers turn them homeward, and the weary have their will,
When the censers of the roses o'er the forest aisles are shaken,
Is it but the wind that cometh o'er the far green hill?
Petrarch to Laura
© Mary Darby Robinson
"Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state,
"How often must it love, how often hate,
"How often hope, despair, resent, regret,
"Conceal, disdain, do all things, but forget."
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book VI - Go-Harana - (Cattle-Lifting)
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
The conditions of the banishment of the sons of Pandu were hard. They
must pass twelve years in exile, and then they must remain a year in
concealment. If they were discovered within this last year, they must
go into exile for another twelve years.
Bande Mataram
© Sri Aurobindo
Mother, I bow to thee!
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
Bright with thy orchard gleams,
Cool with thy winds of delight,
Dark fields waving, Mother of might,
Mother free.
To You.
© Arthur Henry Adams
SO you have come at last!
And we nestle, each in each,
As leans the pliant sea in the clean-curved limbs of her lover the beach;
Merged in each other quite,
The Forsaken
© Caroline Norton
IT is the music of her native land,--
The airs she used to love in happier days;
The lute is struck by some young gentle hand,
To soothe her spirit with remember'd lays.
II.
Poems For Piraye (9 To 10 OClock Poems)
© Nazim Hikmet
Remembering you is good
in prison
amid the news
of victory and death
as my fortieth year passes...
"The Undying One" - Canto IV
© Caroline Norton
On she goes, and the waves are dashing
Under her stern, and under her prow;
Oh! pleasant the sound of the waters splashing
To those who the heat of the desert know.
The Garden
© Katharine Tynan
I know a garden like a child,
Clean and new-washed and reconciled.
It grows its own sweet way, yet still
Has guidance of some tender will
That clips, confines, its wilder mood
And makes it happy, being good.
The Hired Man And Floretty
© James Whitcomb Riley
The Hired Man's supper, which he sat before,
In near reach of the wood-box, the stove-door
And one leaf of the kitchen-table, was
Somewhat belated, and in lifted pause
His dextrous knife was balancing a bit
Of fried mush near the port awaiting it.
