Nature poems
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The Prisoner of Chillon
© Lord Byron
I
My hair is gray, but not with years,
Nor grew it white
In a single night,
Lara
© Lord Byron
Proud Otho on the instant, reddening, threw
His glove on earth, and forth his sabre flew.
"The last alternative befits me best,
And thus I answer for mine absent guest."
To A Lady
© Lord Byron
O! had my Fate been join'd with thine,
As once this pledge appear'd a token,
These follies had not, then, been mine,
For, then, my peace had not been broken.
In Memoriam A. H. H. Obiit: 124.
© Alfred Tennyson
A warmth within the breast would melt
The freezing reason's colder part,
And like a man in wrath the heart
Stood up and answer'd, "I have felt."
Hermann And Dorothea - VI. Klio
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Thus the magistrate spoke. The others departed and thanked him,
And the pastor produced a gold piece (the silver his purse held
He some hours before had with genuine kindness expended
When he saw the fugitives passing in sorrowful masses).
Epistle To Augusta
© Lord Byron
My sister! my sweet sister! if a name
Dearer and purer were, it should be thine;
Mountains and seas divide us, but I claim
No tears, but tenderness to answer mine:
My Epitaph
© George Gordon Byron
Youth, Nature, and relenting Jove,
To keep my Lamp in strongly strove;
But Romanelli was so stout,
He beat all three, and blew it out.
Solitude
© Lord Byron
To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell,
To slowly trace the forest's shady scene,
Where things that own not man's dominion dwell,
And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been;
The Dream
© Lord Byron
My dream is past; it had no further change.
It was of a strange order, that the doom
Of these two creatures should be thus traced out
Almost like a realitythe one
To end in madnessboth in misery.
Fiordispina
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Lie there; sleep awhile in your own dew,
Ye faint-eyed children of the ... Hours,
Fiordispina said, and threw the flowers
Which she had from the breathing--
On The Companionship With Nature
© Archibald Lampman
Let us be much with Nature; not as they
That labour without seeing, that employ
Regarding Art
© Nazim Hikmet
Sometimes, I, too, tell the ah's
of my heart one by one
like the blood-red beads
of a ruby rosary strung
on strands of golden hair!
The Red Sunsets I, 1883
© Mathilde Blind
And lo, three factory hands begrimed with soot,
Aflame with the red splendour, marvelling stand,
And gaze with lifted faces awed and mute.
Starved of earth's beauty by Man's grudging hand,
O toilers, robbed of labour's golden fruit,
Ye, too, may feast in Nature's fairyland.
Now Is The Time Of The Year
© Bliss William Carman
NOW is the time of year
When all the flutes begin,
The redwing bold and clear,
The rainbird far and thin.
At Vaucluse
© Alfred Austin
By Avignon's dismantled walls,
Where cloudless mid-March sunshine falls,
Rhone, through broad belts of green,
Flecked with the light of almond groves,
Upon itself reverting, roves
Reluctant from the scene.
On the Dark, Still, Dry Warm Weather
© Gilbert White
Th'imprison'd winds slumber within their caves
Fast bound: the fickle vane, emblem of change,
I Strove with None
© Walter Savage Landor
I strove with none, for none was worth my strife.
Nature I loved and, next to Nature, Art:
I warm'd both hands before the fire of life;
It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
Finis
© Walter Savage Landor
I STROVE with none, for none was worth my strife.
Nature I loved and, next to Nature, Art:
I warm'd both hands before the fire of life;
It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
