Nature poems
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A Fountain, a Bottle, a Donkey's Ears, and Some Books
© Robert Frost
Old Davis owned a solid mica mountain
In Dalton that would someday make his fortune.
There'd been some Boston people out to see it:
And experts said that deep down in the mountain
The mica sheets were big as plate-glass windows.
He'd like to take me there and show it to me.
The Times Table
© Robert Frost
More than halfway up the pass
Was a spring with a broken drinking glass,
And whether the farmer drank or not
His mare was sure to observe the spot
Evening Hymn
© Henry Kendall
The crag-pent breezes sob and moan where hidden waters glide;
And twilight wanders round the earth with slow and shadowy stride.
Orpheus
© Edith Wharton
Love will make men dare to die for their beloved. . . Of this
Alcestis is a monument . . . for she was willing to lay down her
life for her husband . . . and so noble did this appear to the gods
that they granted her the privilege of returning to earth . . . but
Orpheus, the son of OEagrus, they sent empty away. . .
New Hampshire
© Robert Frost
Just specimens is all New Hampshire has,
One each of everything as in a showcase,
Which naturally she doesn't care to sell.
Maple
© Robert Frost
Her teacher's certainty it must be Mabel
Made Maple first take notice of her name.
She asked her father and he told her, "Maple
Maple is right."
Blueberries
© Robert Frost
"You ought to have seen what I saw on my way
To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day:
Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb,
Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum
Even-Song
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
IT may be, yes, it must be, Time that brings
An end to mortal things,
The Mountains of Mourne
© William Percy French
Oh, Mary, this London's a wonderful sight
With people here working by day and by night
Stanzas To Augusta (II.)
© George Gordon Byron
I.
Though the day of my destiny's over,
And the star of my fate hath declined,
Thy soft heart refused to discover
Acceptance
© Robert Frost
When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud
And goes down burning into the gulf below,
No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud
At what has happened. Birds, at least must know
Sephestia's Lullaby
© Robert Greene
WEEP not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;
When thou art old there 's grief enough for thee.
To Count Carlo Pepoli
© Giacomo Leopardi
This wearisome and this distressing sleep
That we call life, O how dost thou support,
The Protest
© James Russell Lowell
I could not bear to see those eyes
On all with wasteful largess shine,
Elegy XIX
© John Donne
Whoever loves, if he do not propose
The right true end of love, he's one that goes
The Daft-days
© Robert Fergusson
Now mirk December's dowie face
Glours our the rigs wi' sour grimace,
While, thro' his minimum of space,
The bleer-ey'd sun
Wi' blinkin light and stealing pace,
His race doth run.
Thoughts on Predestination and Reprobation : Part IV.
© John Byrom
To bless is his immutable decree,
Such as could never have begun to be:
Laughter And Death
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
THERE is no laughter in the natural world
Of beast or fish or bird, though no sad doubt
