Cool poems
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The Rush-Bearing At Ambleside
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
SUMMER is come, with her leaves and her flowers
Summer is come, with the sun on her hours;
The lark in the clouds, and the thrush on the bough,
And the dove in the thicket, make melody now.
The noon is abroad, but the shadows are cool
Where the green rushes grow in the dark forest pool.
The Golden Whales Of California
© Vachel Lindsay
But what is the earthquake s cry at last
Making St. Francis yet aghast:
" Oh the flashing cornucopia of haughty
From here on, the audience California joins in the
An Indian-Summer Reverie
© James Russell Lowell
What visionary tints the year puts on,
When failing leaves falter through motionless air
Colum-Cilles Farewell To Ireland
© Douglas Hyde
ALAS for the voyage, O High King of Heaven,
Enjoined upon me,
Will
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
YOUR face, my boy, when six months old,
We propped you laughing in a chair,
And the sun-artist caught the gold
Which rippled o'er your waving hair!
Battle Sleep
© Edith Wharton
SOMEWHERE, O sun, some corner there must be
Thou visitest, where down the strand
Quietly, still, the waves go out to sea
From the green fringes of a pastoral land.
Death and Resurrection of Constantinos Palaeologos
© Odysseas Elytis
Far from the world where his spirit sought
to bring Paradise to his measure
And harder even than stone
for no one had ever looked
on him tenderly - at times his crooked teeth
whitened strangely
The Farmer's Boy - Spring
© Robert Bloomfield
Down, indignation! hence, ideas foul!
Away the shocking image from my soul!
Let kindlier visitants attend my way,
Beneath approaching _Summer's_ fervid ray;
Nor thankless glooms obtrude, nor cares annoy,
Whilst the sweet theme is _universal joy_.
The Spilling Of The Wine
© Lola Ridge
The night has a rare savor.
Out of the snow-pilesaltar-high and colored as by a
rosy sacrifice Scented vapor
Ascends in a pale incense . . .
Faint astringent perfume
Of blood and wine.
The Tent On The Beach
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I would not sin, in this half-playful strain,--
Too light perhaps for serious years, though born
To Lydia
© Eugene Field
When, Lydia, you (once fond and true,
But now grown cold and supercilious)
Praise Telly's charms of neck and arms--
Well, by the dog! it makes me bilious!
One need not be a Chamberto be Haunted
© Emily Dickinson
One need not be a Chamberto be Haunted
One need not be a House
The Brain has Corridorssurpassing
Material Place
The Judgement of Hercules
© William Shenstone
Wrapp'd in a pleased suspense, the youth survey'd
The various charms of each attractive maid:
Alternate each he view'd, and each admired,
And found, alternate, varying flames inspired:
Quick o'er their forms his eyes with pleasure ran,
When she, who first approach'd him, first began:-
Seasonal Cycle - Chapter 03 - Pre Autumn
© Kalidasa
"On the departure of rainy season bechanced is autumn with a heart-pleasingly bloomed lotus as her face, betokening the heart-pleasing face of a new bride, and the autumnal fields of white grass with whitish flowers as her apparel, which betoken the whitish bridal apparel of a new bride, and the amorously clucking clucks of swans that have just returned from Lake Maanasa as rains have gone, are the jingling anklets of autumn, which betoken the delightful jingles of anklets of new bride, and now the rice is ready to ripe and thus the tenuous stalks of rice, which have their necks a little bent down, betoken the obeisant face of a new docile bride…
"Blanched is the earth with whitish grass and the nights with silvery and coolant moonbeams of the moon, and the rivers with white swans, lakes with white-lotuses, and that forest up to its fringes with whitish jasmine flowers and with somewhat whitish seven-leaved banana plants that are swagging under the weight of their flowers…
Campus Sonnets: May Morning
© Stephen Vincent Benet
This is the time of all-sufficing laughter
At idiotic things some one has done,
And there is neither past nor vague hereafter.
And all your body stretches in the sun
And drinks the light in like a liquid thing;
Filled with the divine languor of late spring.
Noon
© William Cullen Bryant
'Tis noon. At noon the Hebrew bowed the knee
And worshipped, while the husbandmen withdrew
From the scorched field, and the wayfaring man
Grew faint, and turned aside by bubbling fount,
Or rested in the shadow of the palm.
The Duellist - Book II
© Charles Churchill
Deep in the bosom of a wood,
Out of the road, a Temple stood:
Man Overboard
© Katharine Lee Bates
YOUNG, the naked stoker who went
Mad with the fires and leapt to the sea,
Sugar Weather
© Peter McArthur
WHEN snow-balls on the horses' hoofs
And the wind from the south blows warm,
