Nature poems
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The Poet Fears Failure
© Erica Jong
The critic is only doing his job:
keeping the poet lonely.
He barks
like a dog at the door
when the master comes home.
Iris, Her Book
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I PRAY thee by the soul of her that bore thee,
By thine own sister's spirit I implore thee,
Deal gently with the leaves that lie before thee!
Costanza
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
She knelt in prayer. A stream of sunset fell
Thro' the stain'd window of her lonely cell,
And with its rich, deep, melancholy glow
Flushing her cheek and pale Madonna brow,
The Stars Are Mansions Built By Nature's Hand
© William Wordsworth
The stars are mansions built by Nature's hand,
And, haply, there the spirits of the blest
Orpheus
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
What wondrous sound is that, mournful and faint,
But more melodious than the murmuring wind
Which through the columns of a temple glides?
To The Teachers Of America
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
TEACHERS of teachers! Yours the task,
Noblest that noble minds can ask,
Enigmas
© Pablo Neruda
I am nothing but the empty net which has gone on ahead
of human eyes, dead in those darknesses,
of fingers accustomed to the triangle, longitudes
on the timid globe of an orange.
Beachy Head
© Charlotte Turner Smith
ON thy stupendous summit, rock sublime !
That o'er the channel rear'd, half way at sea
Sonnet 19
© Richard Barnfield
Ah no; nor I my selfe : though my pure loue
(Sweete Ganymede) to thee hath still beene pure,
Vision Of Columbus - Book 1
© Joel Barlow
Oh, lend thy friendly shroud to veil my sight,
That these pain'd eyes may dread no more the light,
These welcome shades conclude my instant doom,
And this drear mansion moulder to a tomb
On Salathiel Pavy
© Benjamin Jonson
A child of Queen Elizabeth's Chapel
Epitaphs: ii WEEP with me, all you that read
This little story;
And know, for whom a tear you shed
The Missionary - Canto Third
© William Lisle Bowles
Come,--for the sun yet hangs above the bay,--
And whilst our time may brook a brief delay
After Cattle
© Roderic Quinn
WE lit a fire, and straightway camped,
And all night long
We heard the river sing its song.
Our horses fed, and neighed, and stamped;
An Epitaph On A Child Of Queen Elizabeth's Chapel
© Benjamin Jonson
Weep with me, all you that read
This little story;
And know, for whom a tear you shed
Death's self is sorry.
To The Memory Of My Beloved, The Author, Mr William Shakespeare, And What He Hath Left Us
© Benjamin Jonson
To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name
Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;
While I confess thy writings to be such
As neither Man nor Muse can praise too much.
