Nature poems

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Foresight And Patience

© George Meredith

Sprung of the father blood, the mother brain,
Are they who point our pathway and sustain.
They rarely meet; one soars, one walks retired.
When they do meet, it is our earth inspired.

An Anglers Wish

© Henry Van Dyke

I
WHEN tulips bloom in Union Square,
And timid breaths of vernal air
Go wandering down the dusty town,
Like children lost in Vanity Fair;

Sonnet IX. To Priestley

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Tho' roused by that dark Visir riot rude
Have driven our Priestly o'er the ocean swell;
Tho' Superstition and her wolfish brood
Bay his mild radiance, impotent and fell;

Near the high road upon a winding stream
An honest Miller rose to Wealth and Fame:
The noblest Virtues cheer'd his lengthen'd days,
And all the Country echo'd with his praise:
His Wife, the Doctress of the neighb'ring Poor,
Drew constant pray'rs and blessings round his door.

The New Aspasia

© Muriel Stuart

I knew you as I knew these happy things,
Passing, unwept, on wide and tranquil wings
To their own place in nature; below, above
Transient passion with its stains and stings.
For this strange pity that you knew not of
Was neither lust nor love.

Human Life

© Samuel Rogers

An hour like this is worth a thousand passed
In pomp or ease - 'Tis present to the last!
Years glide away untold - 'Tis still the same!
As fresh, as fair as on the day it came!

Au bord de la mer

© Victor Marie Hugo

Oh oui ! la terre est belle et le ciel est superbe ;
Mais quand ton sein palpite et quand ton oeil reluit,
Quand ton pas gracieux court si léger sur l'herbe
Que le bruit d'une lyre est moins doux que son bruit ;

Altiora Peto

© George Essex Evans

To each there came the passion and the fire,
The breadth of vision and the sudden light,
And for a moment on an earthly lyre
Quivered a tremor of the Infinite;
Yet to each poet of that deep-browed throng
Twas but the shadow of Immortal Song.

The Flag

© Julia Ward Howe

There's a flag hangs over my threshold, whose folds are more dear to me
Than the blood that thrills in my bosom its earnest of liberty;
And dear are the stars it harbors in its sunny field of blue
As the hope of a further heaven that lights all our dim lives through.

Twilight Of Freedom

© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam

Let us glorify, brothers, the twilight of freedom --
The great twilight year.
A weighty forest of nets is lowered
Into the bubbling waters of night.
You are rising into desolate years,
O sun, judge, people.

A Lament for the Fairies

© Alaric Alexander Watts

O, ye have lost,

Mountains, and moors, and meads, the radiant throng

Australasia

© William Charles Wentworth

Hadst thou, old Cynic, seen this unclad crew
Stretch their bare bodies in the nightly dew,
Like hairy Satyrs, midst their Sylvan seats,
Endure both winter's frosts, and summer's heats;
Thy cloak and tub away thou wouldst have cast,
And tried, like them, to brave the piercing blast.

Of The Nature Of Things: Book V - Part 02 - Against Teleological Concept

© Lucretius

And walking now

In his own footprints, I do follow through

To A Caged Lion

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

Poor conquered monarch! though that haughty glance
Still speaks thy courage unsubdued by time,
And in the grandeur of thy sullen tread
Lives the proud spirit of thy burning clime;--
Fettered by things that shudder at thy roar,
Torn from thy pathless wilds to pace this narrow floor!

The Kalevala - Rune IX

ORIGIN OF IRON.

Paracelsus: Part IV: Paracelsus Aspires

Festus.
So strange
That I must hope, indeed, your messenger
Has mingled his own fancies with the words
Purporting to be yours.

At The Banquet To the Japanese Embassy

WE welcome you, Lords of the Land of the Sun!
The voice of the many sounds feebly through one;
Ah! would 't were a voice of more musical tone,
But the dog-star is here, and the song-birds have flown.

An Elegy, To an Old Beauty

In vain, poor Nymph, to please our youthful sight
You sleep in cream and frontlets all the night,
Your face with patches soil, with paint repair,
Dress with gay gowns, and shade with foreign hair.
If truth in spight of manners must be told,
Why, really fifty-five is something old.

Alsace-Lorraine

Yet the like aerial growths may chance be the delicate sprays,
Infant of Earth's most urgent in sap, her fierier zeal
For entry on Life's upper fields: and soul thus flourishing pays
The martyr's penance, mark for brutish in man to heel.