Nature poems
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Tim Turpin
© Thomas Hood
Tim Turpin he was gravel-blind,
And ne'er had seen the skies :
For Nature, when his head was made,
Forgot to dot his eyes.
The Haunted House
© Thomas Hood
Oh, very gloomy is the house of woe,
Where tears are falling while the bell is knelling,
With all the dark solemnities that show
That Death is in the dwelling!
The City Of The Dead XX
© Khalil Gibran
Yesterday I drew myself from the noisome throngs and proceeded into the field until I reached a knoll upon which Nature had spread her comely garments. Now I could breathe.
I looked back, and the city appeared with its magnificent mosques and stately residences veiled by the smoke of the shops.
Of The Nature Of Things: Book I - Part 05 - Character Of The Atoms
© Lucretius
So primal germs have solid singleness
Nor otherwise could they have been conserved
Through aeons and infinity of time
For the replenishment of wasted worlds.
The Golden Legend: VI. The School Of Salerno
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Doctor Serafino._ I, with the Doctor Seraphic, maintain,
That a word which is only conceived in the brain
Is a type of eternal Generation;
The spoken word is the Incarnation.
Hester
© Charles Lamb
WHEN maidens such as Hester die
Their place ye may not well supply,
Though ye among a thousand try
With vain endeavour.
The Banks Of Wye - Book I
© Robert Bloomfield
No butler's proxies snore supine,
Where the old monarch kept his wine;
No Welch ox roasting, horns and all,
Adorns his throng'd and laughing hall;
But where he pray'd, and told his beads,
A thriving ash luxuriant spreads.
Sonnet 36: Stella, Whence Doth This
© Sir Philip Sidney
Stella, whence doth this new assault arise,
A conquer'd, yielden, ransack'd heart to win?
Whereto long since through my long batter'd eyes,
Whole armies of thy beauties entered in.
Moods
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Oh that a Song would sing itself to me
Out of the heart of Nature, or the heart
A Ballad Of Santa Claus
© Henry Van Dyke
For the St. Nicholas Society of New York
Among the earliest saints of old, before the first Hegira,
La Liberte
© André Marie de Chénier
Tu te plais mieux sans doute au bois, à la prairie;
Tu le peux. Assieds-toi parmi l'herbe fleurie:
Moi, sous un antre aride, en cet affreux séjour,
Je me plais sur le roc à voir passer le jour.
The Ballade Of The Glutton
© Norman Rowland Gale
O Redcoats of England, who struggle and dare,
Your glory's a morsel no glutton can please;
My yearning is all for a soft-cushioned chair,
Soused salmon and lamb and young ducks and green peas.
The Enthusiast, or the Lover of Nature
© Joseph Warton
Ye green-rob'd Dryads, oft' at dusky Eve
By wondering Shepherds seen, to Forests brown,
While Summer Suns O'er the Gay Prospect Play'd
© Thomas Warton
While summer suns o'er the gay prospect play'd,
Through Surrey's verdant scenes, where Epsom spread
'Mid intermingling elms her flowery meads,
And Hascombe's hill, in towering groves array'd,
The Pleasures of Melancholy
© Thomas Warton
Mother of musings, Contemplation sage,
Whose grotto stands upon the topmost rock
Of Teneriffe; 'mid the tempestuous night,
On which, in calmest meditation held,
The Worship of Nature
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The harp at Nature's advent strung
Has never ceased to play;
The song the stars of morning sung
Has never died away.
Concerning The Philosophers Stone. ( Alchemical Verse .)
© John Gower
And also with great diligence,
Thei fonde thilke Experience:
The Barefoot Boy
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Blessings on thee, little man,
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!
With thy turned-up pantaloons,
And thy merry whistled tunes;
Stanzas for the Times
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Is this the land our fathers loved,
The freedom which they toiled to win?
Is this the soil whereon they moved?
Are these the graves they slumber in?
Are we the sons by whom are borne
The mantles which the dead have worn?
