Nature poems
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To ------ On The Various Styles Of Poetry
© Thomas Parnell
I hate ye vulgar with untunefull ears
Soules uninspird & negligent of verse
Hence ye prophane be farr removd away
While to my powr I woud my friend repay
My Birthday
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Beneath the moonlight and the snow
Lies dead my latest year;
The winter winds are wailing low
Its dirges in my ear.
To The Painted Columbine
© Jones Very
Bright image of the early years
When glowed my cheek as red as thou,
And life's dark throng of cares and fears
Were swift-winged shadows o'er my sunny brow!
Envoi
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
Now don't go and say you'd a dim
Idea of these stories before,
For I've frankly confessed them from Grimm,
The monarch of magical lore:
Transformation: Sonnet
© Sri Aurobindo
I am no more a vassal of flesh,
A slave to Nature and her leaden rule;
I am caught no more in the senses narrow mesh.
My soul unhorizoned widens to measureless sight,
My body is Gods happy living tool,
My spirit a vast sun of deathless light.
My Lady Nature and her Daughters
© John Henry Newman
Bird and beast of every sort
Hath its antic and its sport;
Chattering brook, and dancing gnat,
Subtle cry of evening bat,
Moss uncouth, and twigs grotesque,
These are Nature's picturesque.
Ode to Joy
© Anonymous
Would he purge his soul from vileness
And attain to light and worth,
He must turn and cling forever
To his ancient Mother Earth.
Wings
© Emma Lazarus
DAWN opes her pensive eyes,
In the yet starry skies,
A roseate blush upon her cheek and brows.
Her purple mantle still
Lies on the sky-kissed hill,
And a blue, solemn shade thereon it throws.
Nathan The Wise - Act II
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
But out of my dilemma
'Tis not so easy to escape unhurt.
Well, you must have the knight.
An Heroic Epistle of Hudibras To His Lady
© Samuel Butler
I who was once as great as Caesar,
Am now reduc'd to Nebuchadnezzar;
Joan Of Arc, In Rheims
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Thou hast a charmed cup, O Fame!
A draught that mantles high,
And seems to lift this earth-born frame
Above mortality:
Away! to me a woman bring
Sweet waters from affection's spring.
Stellas Birth-Day. 1724-5
© Jonathan Swift
As when a beauteous nymph decays,
We say she's past her dancing days;
So poets lose their feet by time,
And can no longer dance in rhyme.
Seventh Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
Go not away, thou weary soul:
Heaven has in store a precious dole
Here on Bethsaida's cold and darksome height,
Where over rocks and sands arise
Proud Sirion in the northern skies,
And Tabor's lonely peak, 'twixt thee and noonday light.
Autumn
© Samuel Johnson
Alas! with swift and silent pace,
Impatient time rolls on the year;
The Seasons change, and Nature's face
Now sweetly smiles, now frowns severe.
To the memory of my dear Daughter in Law, Mrs. Mercy Bradstreet, who deceased Sept. 6. 1669. in the
© Anne Bradstreet
And live I still to see Relations gone,
And yet survive to sound this wailing tone;
The Golden Legend: V. A Covered Bridge At Lucerne
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Prince Henry_ The grim musician
Leads all men through the mazes of that dance,
To different sounds in different measures moving;
Sometimes he plays a lute, sometimes a drum,
To tempt or terrify.
To Lady Eleanor Butler and the Honourable Miss Ponsonby,
© William Wordsworth
A stream to mingle with your favorite Dee
Along the Vale of Meditation flows;
So styled by those fierce Britons, pleased to see
In Nature's face the expression of repose,
