Nature poems
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Young England
© Horace Smith
The times still "grow to something strange";
We rap and turn the tables;
Sonnet 80: Sweet Swelling Lip
© Sir Philip Sidney
Sweet swelling lip, well may'st thou swell in pride,
Since best wits think it wit thee to admire;
Nature's praise, Virtue's stall, Cupid's cold fire,
Whence words, not words but heav'nly graces, slide;
George Mullen's Confession
© James Whitcomb Riley
For the sake of guilty conscience, and the heart that ticks the
time
Of the clockworks of my nature, I desire to say that I'm
A weak and sinful creature, as regards my daily walk
The last five years and better. It ain't worth while to talk--
The Virtuoso: In Imitation of Spenser's Style And Stanza
© Mark Akenside
--- Videmus
Nugari solitos.
-Persius
Of The Nature Of Things: Book II - Part 05 - Infinite Worlds
© Lucretius
Once more, we all from seed celestial spring,
To all is that same father, from whom earth,
Tale X
© George Crabbe
It is the Soul that sees: the outward eyes
Present the object, but the Mind descries;
And thence delight, disgust, or cool indiff'rence
A Preaching From A Spanish Ballad
© George Meredith
Ladies who in chains of wedlock
Chafe at an unequal yoke,
Not to nightingales give hearing;
Better this, the raven's croak.
On The Nature Of Love
© Rabindranath Tagore
The night is black and the forest has no end;
a million people thread it in a million ways.
The Voice in the Wild Oak
© Henry Kendall
Twelve years ago, when I could face
High heavens dome with different eyes
The Heroic Enthusiasts - Part The Second =Third Dialogue=.
© Giordano Bruno
LIB. Reclining in the shade of a cypress-tree, the enthusiast finding
his mind free from other thoughts, it happened that the heart and the
eyes spoke together as if they were animals and substances of different
intellects and senses, and they made lament of that which was the
beginning of his torment and which consumed his soul.
An Autumn Song
© George MacDonald
Are the leaves falling round about
The churchyard on the hill?
Is the glow of autumn going out?
Is that the winter chill?
And yet through winter's noise, no doubt
The graves are very still!
Inebriety
© George Crabbe
The mighty spirit, and its power, which stains
The bloodless cheek, and vivifies the brains,
An Eclogue
© Thomas Parnell
Now early shepheards ore ye meadow pass,
And print long foot-steps in the glittering grass;
The Cows unfeeding near the cottage stand,
By turns obedient to the Milkers hand,
Or loytring stretch beneath an Oaken shade,
Or lett the suckling Calf defraud the maid.
In Memoriam A. H. H.
© Alfred Tennyson
Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou.
Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
An Outdoor Reception
© John Greenleaf Whittier
On these green banks, where falls too soon
The shade of Autumn's afternoon,
