Nature poems
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Sonnet LXXXII. To The Shade Of Burns
© Charlotte Turner Smith
MUTE is thy wild harp, now, O bard sublime!
Who, amid Scotia's mountain solitude,
Great Nature taught to "build the lofty rhyme,"
And even beneath the daily pressure, rude,
On A Shadow In A Glass
© Jonathan Swift
By something form'd, I nothing am,
Yet everything that you can name;
In no place have I ever been,
Yet everywhere I may be seen;
To Lamartine
© James Russell Lowell
I did not praise thee when the crowd,
'Witched with the moment's inspiration,
Vexed thy still ether with hosannas loud,
And stamped their dusty adoration;
I but looked upward with the rest,
And, when they shouted Greatest, whispered Best.
London - in Imitation of the Third Satire of Juvenal
© Samuel Johnson
'--Quis ineptae
Tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus ut teneat se?' ~ Juv.
Flight To Nature
© William Gilmore Simms
SICK of the crowd, the toil, the strife,
Sweet Nature, how I turn to thee,
Seeking for renovated life,
By brawling brook and shady tree!
The Death Of President Lincoln
© Joseph Furphy
Now let the howling tempest roar
For Booth can feel its force no more;
Now let the captors bend their steel
Against the form that cannot feel
Their tyranny has spent its hour
And Booth is far beyond their power.
Thoughts Of Christmas-Day In India
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
IT is Christmas, and the sunshine
Lies golden on the fields,
And flowers of white and purple
Yonder fragrant creeper yields.
Sense And Spirit
© George Meredith
The senses loving Earth or well or ill
Ravel yet more the riddle of our lot.
Ifs
© Caroline Norton
OH! if the winds could whisper what they hear,
When murmuring round at sunset through the grove;
Vision Of Columbus - Book 9
© Joel Barlow
Now, round the yielding canopy of shade,
Again the Guide his heavenly power display'd.
Hymn. To Light
© Abraham Cowley
First-born of Chaos, who so fair didst come
From the old Negro's darksome womb!
Which, when it saw the lovely child,
The melancholy mass put on kind looks and smiled,
To
© Charles Harpur
LONG ere I knew theeyears of loveless days
A Shape would gather from my dreams and pour
The soul-sweet influence of its gentle gaze
Into my being, thrilling it to the core,
Then would I wake, with lonely heart to pine
For that nocturnal image:it was thine!
Satyr XI. The Court
© Thomas Parnell
What greater dangers can be mett with there
Where lions rage & dragons poison air
With open forces to destroy they run
& can be shunnd because they can be known
But at ye court the Lions like the deer
& dragons like the gentle lambs appear
The Lost Occasion
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Some die too late and some too soon,
At early morning, heat of noon,
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
The Purgatory Of St. Patrick - Act II
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
PHILIP [aside]. If to find my death I come,
Why precipitate my doom?
But so patient who could be
As to not desire to see
What impends, how dark its gloom?
James Russell Lowell
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THOU shouldst have sung the swan-song for the choir
That filled our groves with music till the day
Lit the last hilltop with its reddening fire,
And evening listened for thy lingering lay.
Ode VI: Hymn To Cheerfulness
© Mark Akenside
Friend to the Muse and all her train,
For thee i court the Muse again:
The Muse for thee may well exert
Her pomp, her charms, her fondest art,
Who owes to thee that pleasing sway
Which earth and peopled heaven obey.
