Nature poems
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XLII
© Boker George Henry
If she should give me all I ask of her,The virgin treasures of her modest love;If lip to lip in eager frenzy clove,And limb with limb should palpitate and stirIn that wild struggle whose delights conferA rapture which the jealous gods aboveEnvy and long for as they coldly moveThrough votive fumes of spice and burning myrrh;Yea, were her beauty thus securely mine,Forever waiting at my beck and call,I lord and master of her all in all;Yet at that weakness I would fret and pineWhich makes exhausted nature trip and fallJust at the point where it becomes divine
LXX
© Boker George Henry
My lady's senses are so pure and fine,She takes small pleasure in the close embraceThat love and nature in me coarsely traceAs the great end to which all hearts incline
A Vision out West
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
Far reaching down's a solid sea sunk everlastingly to rest,And yet whose billows seem to be for ever heaving toward the westThe tiny fieldmice make their nests, the summer insects buzz and humAmong the hollows and the crests of this wide ocean stricken dumb,Whose rollers move for ever on, though sullenly, with fettered wills,To break in voiceless wrath upon the crumbled bases of far hills,Where rugged outposts meet the shock, stand fast, and hurl them back again,An avalanche of earth and rock, in tumbled fragments on the plain;But, never heeding the rebuff, to right and left they kiss the feetOf hanging cliff and bouldered bluff till on the farther side they meet,And once again resume their march to where the afternoon sun dipsToward the west, and Heaven's arch salutes the Earth with ruddy lips
The Mockery of Life
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
God! What a mockery is this life of ours!Cast forth in blood and pain from our mother's womb,Most like an excrement, and weeping showersOf senseless tears: unreasoning, naked, dumb,The symbol of all weakness and the sum:Our very life a sufferance
Sensation
© Bithell Jethro
In summer evenings blue, pricked by the wheatOn rustic paths the thin grass I shall tread,And feel its freshness underneath my feet,And, dreaming, let the wind bathe my bare head.
Brazil, January 1, 1502
© Elizabeth Bishop
Januaries, nature greets our eyesexactly as she must have greeted theirs:every square inch filling in with foliage--big leaves, little leaves, and giant leaves,blue, blue-green, and olive,with occasional lighter veins and edges,or a satin underleaf turned over;monster fernsin silver-gray relief,and flowers, too, like giant water liliesup in the air--up, rather, in the leaves--purple, yellow, two yellows, pink,rust red and greenish white;solid but airy; fresh as if just finishedand taken off the frame
Avril
© Rémy Belleau
Avril, l'honneur et des bois Et des mois;Avril, la douce espéranceDes fruicts qui sous le coton Du boutonNourrissent leur jeune enfance;
The Minstrel; or, The Progress of Genius
© James Beattie
THE FIRST BOOK (excerpts) The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar! Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime Hath felt the influence of malignant star, And wag'd with Fortune an eternal war! Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, And Poverty's unconquerable bar, In life's low vale remote hath pin'd aloneThen dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!
And yet, the languor of inglorious days Not equally oppressive is to all
Correspondances
© Charles Baudelaire
La Nature est un temple où de vivants piliersLaissent parfois sortir de confuses paroles;L'homme y passe à travers des forêts de symbolesQui l'observent avec des regards familiers.
Written for my Son, and Spoken by Him at his First Putting on Breeches
© Mary Barber
WHAT is it our mamma's bewitches,To plague us little boys with breeches ?To tyrant Custom we must yield,Whilst vanquish'd Reason flies the field
To Mrs. P********, with some Drawings of Birds and Insects
© Anna Lætitia Barbauld
The kindred arts to please thee shall conspire,One dip the pencil, and one string the lyre. (Pope)
To a Little Invisible Being Who is Expected Soon to Become Visible
© Anna Lætitia Barbauld
Germ of new life, whose powers expanding slowFor many a moon their full perfection wait,--Haste, precious pledge of happy love, to goAuspicious borne through life's mysterious gate.
A Thought on Death: November, 1814
© Anna Lætitia Barbauld
When life as opening buds is sweet,And golden hopes the fancy greet,And Youth prepares his joys to meet,--Alas! how hard it is to die!
The Rights of Women
© Anna Lætitia Barbauld
Yes, injured Woman! rise, assert thy right!Woman! too long degraded, scorned, opprest;O born to rule in partial Law's despite,Resume thy native empire o'er the breast!
Heart Test with an Echo Chamber
© Margaret Atwood
Wired up at the ankles and one wrist,a wet probe rolling over my skin,I see my heart on a screenlike a rubber bulb or a soft fig, but larger,
Will He No Come Back Again?
© Anonymous
Royal Charlie's now awa, Safely owre the friendly main;Mony a heart will break in twa, Should he ne'er come back again
The Masque of B-ll--l
© Anonymous
First come I. My name is J-W-TT.There's no knowledge but I know it.I am Master of this College,What I don't know isn't knowledge.
