Nature poems

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Sir Henry Wotton, and Serjeant Hoskins Riding On The Way

© Sir Henry Wotton

Ho. Noble, lovely, vertuous Creature,
Purposely so fram'd by Nature
To enthral your servants wits.

Convalescent

© Ambrose Bierce

What! "Out of danger?" Can the slighted Dame

Or canting Pharisee no more defame?

True Diffidence

© William Schwenck Gilbert

My boy, you may take it from me,

That of all the afflictions accurst

The Bagman's Dog: Mr. Peters's Story

It was a litter, a litter of five,
Four are drown'd and one left alive,
He was thought worthy alone to survive;
And the Bagman resolved upon bringing him up,
To eat of his bread, and to drink of his cup,
He was such a dear little cock-tail'd pup.

Phi Beta Kappa Poem

© Bliss William Carman

Harvard, 1914
SIR, friends, and scholars, we are here to serve
A high occasion. Our New England wears
All her unrivalled beauty as of old;

The Powers Of Love

© George Moses Horton

It lifts the poor man from his cell
To fortune's bright alcove;
Its mighty sway few, few can tell,
Mid envious foes it conquers ill;
There's nothing half like love.

The Two Thieves; Or, The Last Stage Of Avarice

© William Wordsworth

O NOW that the genius of Bewick were mine,
And the skill which he learned on the banks of the Tyne.
Then the Muses might deal with me just as they chose,
For I'd take my last leave both of verse and of prose.

A Ballad Of Fair Ladies In Revolt

© George Meredith

See the sweet women, friend, that lean beneath
The ever-falling fountain of green leaves
Round the white bending stem, and like a wreath
Of our most blushful flower shine trembling through,
To teach philosophers the thirst of thieves:
Is one for me? is one for you?

The Boundary Rider

© Thomas William Heney

THE BRIDLE reins hang loose in the hold of his lean left hand;

As the tether gives, the horse bends browsing down to the sand,

St. Martin's Summer

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Though flowers have perished at the touch
Of Frost, the early comer,
I hail the season loved so much,
The good St. Martin's summer.

Hermann And Dorothea - VII. Erato

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Joyfully heard the youth the willing maiden's decision,
Doubting whether he now had not better tell her the whole truth;
But it appear'd to him best to let her remain in her error,
First to take her home, and then for her love to entreat her.
Ah! but now he espied a golden ring on her finger,
And so let her speak, while he attentively listen'd:--

The Holy of Holies

© Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Elder father, though thine eyes

Shine with hoary mysteries,

The Farmer's Boy - Autumn

© Robert Bloomfield

Again, the year's _decline_, midst storms and floods,
The thund'ring chase, the yellow fading woods,
Invite my song; that fain would boldly tell
Of upland coverts, and the echoing dell,
By turns resounding loud, at eve and morn
The swineherd's halloo, or the huntsman's horn.

Trilogy Of Passion 02 Elegy

WHAT hope of once more meeting is there now
In the still-closed blossoms of this day?
Both heaven and hell thrown open seest thou;
What wav'ring thoughts within the bosom play
No longer doubt! Descending from the sky,
She lifts thee in her arms to realms on high.

After A Lecture On Keats

"Purpureos spargam flores."

THE wreath that star-crowned Shelley gave

On Love

TO the assembled folk

At great St. Kavins spoke

Pretty Twinkling Starry Eyes

Pretty twinkling starry eyes!
How did Nature first devise
Such a sparkling in your sight
As to give Love such delight
As to make him, like a fly,
Play with looks until he die?

Metamorphoses: Book The Seventh

© Ovid

The End of the Seventh Book.

Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands

Thousands of Bengali villages, silent and powerless, sink into
hopelessness and lightlessness.
When the sun sets, a certain lovely haired darkness
Comes to fix her hair in-a bun-but by whose hands?