Cool poems

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The Waterfall

© Henry Kendall

THE SONG of the water
  Doomed ever to roam,
A beautiful exile,
  Afar from its home.

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Freedom

© Archibald Lampman

Out of the heart of the city begotten
Of the labour of men and their manifold hands,
Whose souls, that were sprung from the earth in her morning,
No longer regard or remember her warning,
Whose hearts in the furnace of care have forgotten
Forever the scent and the hue of her lands;

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Morning

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

O GRACIOUS breath of sunrise! divine air!
That brood'st serenely o'er the purpling hills;
O blissful valleys! nestling, cool and fair,
In the fond arms of yonder murmurous rills,

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The Song Of Hiawatha XXII: Hiawatha's Departure

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

O'er the water floating, flying,
Something in the hazy distance,
Something in the mists of morning,
Loomed and lifted from the water,
Now seemed floating, now seemed flying,
Coming nearer, nearer, nearer.

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Elegy Of Lincoln

© Joseph Furphy

Lincoln is gone — who ruled the Western Land
From the Pacific to the Atlantic's brim —
And cold and nerveless lies the mighty hand
That struck the fetters from the negro's limb.

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I Stood Tip-Toe Upon A Little Hill

© John Keats

I stood tip-toe upon a little hill, 
The air was cooling, and so very still, 
That the sweet buds which with a modest pride 
Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside, 

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The Old Farm

© Madison Julius Cawein

Dormered and verandaed, cool,
Locust-girdled, on the hill;
Stained with weather-wear, and dull-
Streak'd with lichens; every sill
Thresholding the beautiful;

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Morning

© Emma Lazarus

GRAY-VESTED Dawn, with flameless, tranquil eye,
Cool hands, and dewy lips, is in the sky,
A sober nun, with starry rosary.

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To The Castle Ramparts

© William Michael Rossetti

  Great clouds were arched abroad
  Like angels' wings; returning beneath which,
  I lingered homewards. All their forms had merged
  And loosened when my walk was ended; and,
  While yet I saw the sun a perfect disc,
  There was the moon beginning in the sky.

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The Botanic Garden (Part VIII)

© Erasmus Darwin

  "Sweet ECHO! sleeps thy vocal shell,
  "Where this high arch o'erhangs the dell;
  "While Tweed with sun-reflecting streams
  "Chequers thy rocks with dancing beams?-

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Don Juan: Canto The Fifth

© George Gordon Byron

When amatory poets sing their loves

In liquid lines mellifluously bland,

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The Lord of the Isles: Canto IV.

© Sir Walter Scott

I.

Stranger! if e'er thine ardent step hath traced

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The Boy And The Brook. (Armenian Popular Song, From The Prose Version Of Alishan)

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Down from yon distant mountain height
  The brooklet flows through the village street;
A boy comes forth to wash his hands,
Washing, yes washing, there he stands,
  In the water cool and sweet.

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The Last Tournament

© Alfred Tennyson

To whom the King, `Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn,
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear.'

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On An Autumn Sketch Of H.G. Wild

© James Russell Lowell

Thanks to the artist, ever on my wall

The sunset stays: that hill in glory rolled,

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The Tryst

© Madison Julius Cawein

Had fallen a fragrant shower;
  The leaves were dripping yet;
  Each fern and rain-weighed flower
  Around were gleaming wet;
  On ev'ry bosky bower
  A million gems were set.

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The Botanic Garden (Part IV)

© Erasmus Darwin

The Economy Of Vegetation

Canto IV

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The Lost Occasion

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Some die too late and some too soon,

At early morning, heat of noon,

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The Island In The South

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

THE ship went down at noonday in a cam,
When not a zephyr broke the crystal sea.
We two escaped alone: we reached an isle
Whereon the water settled languidly