Nature poems
/ page 200 of 287 /Revelation
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Still, as of old, in Beavor's Vale,
O man of God! our hope and faith
The Elements and Stars assail,
And the awed spirit holds its breath,
Blown over by a wind of death.
The Destroying Spirit
© Louisa Stuart Costello
I sit upon the rocks that frown
Above the rapid Nile;
A Pleasant Invective Against Printing
© Henry Austin Dobson
"O for a lodge in some vast wilderness!"
Some region unapproachable of Print,
Where never cablegram could gain access,
And telephones were not, nor any hint
Of tidings new or old, but Man might pipe
His soul to Nature,- careless of the Type!
Preparatory Meditations - First Series: 32
© Edward Taylor
Thy grace, dear Lord, 's my golden wrack, I find,
Screwing my fancy into ragged rhymes,
Tuning Thy praises in my feeble mind
Until I come to strike them on my chimes.
Were I an angel bright, and borrow could
King David's harp, I would them play on gold.
Paraphrases From Scriptures.
© Helen Maria Williams
Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should
not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yea,
they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.
Mener du, at den har lykken fat,
© Peter Andreas Heiberg
Mener du, at den har lykken fat,
som i sin Haand holder snese Rigers Tømmer?
Thoughts
© Alexander Pushkin
If I walk the noisy streets,
Or enter a many thronged church,
Or sit among the wild young generation,
I give way to my thoughts.
Paradise Lost : Book VIII.
© John Milton
The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear
So charming left his voice, that he a while
In Sickness
© Augustus Montague Toplady
Jesus, since I with thee am one,
Confirm my soul in thee,
And still continue to tread down
The man of sin in me.
The Dreamer
© Madison Julius Cawein
Even as a child he loved to thrid the bowers,
And mark the loafing sunlight's lazy laugh;
Sonnet 20: A woman's face with nature's own hand painted
© William Shakespeare
A woman's face with nature's own hand painted,
Hast thou the master mistress of my passion,
Translated From A Sonnet Of Ronsard
© John Keats
Nature withheld Cassandra in the skies
For more adornment a full thousand years;
She took their cream of Beauty's fairest dyes,
And shap'd and tinted her above all Peers:
A Farewell
© William Wordsworth
FAREWELL, thou little Nook of mountain-ground,
Thou rocky corner in the lowest stair
Of that magnificent temple which doth bound
One side of our whole vale with grandeur rare;
Proverbs of Chaucer
© Geoffrey Chaucer
What should these clothes thus manifold,
Lo! this hot summer's day?
The Lady of the Lake: Canto I. - The Chase
© Sir Walter Scott
Introduction.
Harp of the North! that mouldering long hast hung
Outcast
© Ada Cambridge
And their accuser? She within the fold
That walks in light, bejewelled and belaced,
Who in cold blood, and not for love or need,
Sold the white flower of womanhood for gold;
The wedded harlot, rich and undisgraced,
The viler prostitute in mind and deed.
Sonnet. Written On A Blank Page In Shakespeare's Poems, Facing 'A Lover's Complaint'
© John Keats
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art --
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons - Canto Second
© William Wordsworth
THE Harp in lowliness obeyed;
And first we sang of the greenwood shade
And a solitary Maid;
Beginning, where the song must end,
Dolce Far Niente
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
LET the world roll blindly on!
Give me shallow, give me sun,
And a perfumed eve as this is:
Let me lie,