Nature poems
/ page 171 of 287 /
Answer To Some Elegant Verses Sent By A Friend To The Author, Complaining That One Of His Descriptio
© George Gordon Byron
'But if any old lady, knight, priest or physician
Should condemn me for printing a second edition;
If good Madam Squintum my work should abuse,
May I venture to give her a smack of my muse?'~New Bath Guide.
Pauline, A Fragment of a Question
© Robert Browning
And I can love nothing-and this dull truth
Has come the last: but sense supplies a love
Encircling me and mingling with my life.
The Gallows
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I.
THE suns of eighteen centuries have shone
Since the Redeemer walked with man, and made
The fisher's boat, the cavern's floor of stone,
Ambition
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I had ambition once. Like Solomon
I asked for wisdom, deeming wisdom fair,
And with much pains a little knowledge won
Of Nature's cruelty and Man's despair,
Elegiac Stanzas Suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle in a Storm, Painted by Sir George Beaumont
© André Breton
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!
Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee:
I saw thee every day; and all the while
Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea.
Eyes
© Charles Lamb
Eyes do not as jewels go
By the brightness and the show,
But the meanings which surround them,
And the sweetness shines around them.
On Seeing The Captives, Lately Redeem'd From Barbary By His Majesty.
© Mary Barber
A sight like this, who can unmov'd survey?
Impartial Muse, can'st thou with--hold thy Lay?
See the freed Captives hail their native Shore,
And tread the Land of Liberty once more:
See, as they pass, the crouding People press,
Joy in their Joy, and their Dellv'rer bless.
from The Emigrants: A Poem
© Charlotte Turner Smith
[Disillusion with the French Revolution]
So many years have passed,
The Yellowhammer's Nest
© John Clare
Just by the wooden brig a bird flew up,
Frit by the cowboy as he scrambled down
The Song of a Prison
© Henry Lawson
Tis a song of the weary warders, whom prisoners call the screws
A class of men who I fancy would cleave to the Evening News.
They look after their treasures sadly. By the screw of their keys they are known,
And they screw them many times daily before they draw their own.
For The Meeting Of The National Sanitary Association
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
WHAT makes the Healing Art divine?
The bitter drug we buy and sell,
The brands that scorch, the blades that shine,
The scars we leave, the "cures" we tell?
To A Scientific Friend
© Horace Smith
You say 'tis plain that poets feign,
And from the truth depart;
To Sir George Howland Beaumont, Bart From the South-West Coast Or Cumberland 1811
© William Wordsworth
FAR from our home by Grasmere's quiet Lake,
From the Vale's peace which all her fields partake,
Here on the bleakest point of Cumbria's shore
We sojourn stunned by Ocean's ceaseless roar;
The Pet-Lamb
© William Wordsworth
THE dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;
I heard a voice; it said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink!"
And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied
A snow-white mountain-lamb with a Maiden at its side.
The Baptistry
© Ada Cambridge
One winter eve, at twilight, when the sound
Of sorrowful winds scarce troubled Nature's rest,
As she lay sleeping, with her hair unbound,
Holding her grey robe to her shivering breast,
Sonnet. "Spirit of all sweet sounds! who in mid air"
© Frances Anne Kemble
Spirit of all sweet sounds! who in mid air
Sittest enthroned, vouchsafe to hear my prayer!
Lisy's Parting With Her Cat
© James Thomson
The dreadful hour with leaden pace approached,
Lashed fiercely on by unrelenting fate,
An Ode on the Popular Superstitions of the Highlands of Scotland, Considered as the Subject of Poetry
© William Taylor Collins
Home, thou return'st from Thames, whose Naiads long
Have seen thee ling'ring, with a fond delay,
