Nature poems
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Song For 'Tasso'
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
I lovedalas! our life is love;
But when we cease to breathe and move
I do suppose love ceases too.
David And Goliath. A Sacred Drama
© Hannah More
Great Lord of all things! Power divine!
Breathe on this erring heart of mine
Thy grace serene and pure:
Defend my frail, my erring youth,
And teach me this important truth--
The humble are secure!
The Heroic Enthusiasts - Part The First =Third Dialogue.=
© Giordano Bruno
CIC. I do not believe it is always like that, Tansillo; because,
sometimes, notwithstanding that we discover the spirit to be vicious, we
remain heated and entangled; so that, although reason perceives the evil
and unworthiness of such a love, it yet has not power to alienate the
disordered appetite. In this disposition, I believe, was the Nolano when
he said:
The Revolt Of Islam: Canto I-XII
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
There is no danger to a man, that knows
What life and death is: there's not any law
Exceeds his knowledge; neither is it lawful
That he should stoop to any other law.
-Chapman.
Book Twelfth [Imagination And Taste, How Impaired And Restored ]
© William Wordsworth
What wonder, then, if, to a mind so far
Perverted, even the visible Universe
Fell under the dominion of a taste
Less spiritual, with microscopic view
Was scanned, as I had scanned the moral world?
Influence of Natural Objects
© William Wordsworth
In Calling Forth and Strengthening the Imagination
in Boyhood and Early Youth
An Incident In A Railroad Car
© James Russell Lowell
He spoke of Burns: men rude and rough
Pressed round to hear the praise of one
Whose heart was made of manly, simple stuff,
As homespun as their own.
John Underhill
© John Greenleaf Whittier
A score of years had come and gone
Since the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth stone,
When Captain Underhill, bearing scars
From Indian ambush and Flemish wars,
Left three-hilled Boston and wandered down,
East by north, to Cocheco town.
An Offering
© George Herbert
Come, bring thy gift. If blessings were as slow
As men's returns, what would become of fools?
What hast thou there? a heart? but is it pure?
Search well and see, for hearts have many holes.
Yet one pure heart is nothing to bestow:
In Christ two natures met to be thy cure.
Contrasted Songs: A Lily And The Lute
© Jean Ingelow
“Nay! but thou a spirit art;
Men shall take thee in the mart
For the ghost of their best thought,
Raised at noon, and near them brought;
Or the prayer they made last night,
Set before them all in white.”
To A Young Ass, Its Mother Being Tethered Near It
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Poor little Foal of an oppressed race!
I love the languid patience of thy face:
Autumn
© Boris Pasternak
I have allowed my family to scatter,
All those who were my dearest to depart,
And once again an age-long loneliness
Comes in to fill all nature and my heart.
Oerweening Statesmen Have Full Long Relied
© William Wordsworth
O'ERWEENING Statesmen have full long relied
On fleets and armies, and external wealth:
But from 'within' proceeds a Nation's health;
Which shall not fail, though poor men cleave with pride
The Vision Of The Maid Of Orleans - The Third Book
© Robert Southey
The Maiden, musing on the Warrior's words,
Turn'd from the Hall of Glory. Now they reach'd
Astraea: The Balance Of Illusions
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Dear to his age were memories such as these,
Leaves of his June in life's autumnal breeze;
Such were the tales that won my boyish ear,
Told in low tones that evening loves to hear.
Ode Composed On A May Morning
© William Wordsworth
WHILE from the purpling east departs
The star that led the dawn,
Remorse
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
"What would you tell me, my child, my child, that once slept a babe on my breast?"
(Do the death bells toll for a passing soul?)
"O mother! my friend is dead, now I stand confessed.
I can strike the stone into flame, make the dark give light,
But I cannot give back to the tiniest bird its flight.
Seasons of the Heart
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
The different hues that deck the earth
All in our bosoms have their birth;
On A Landscape Bt Rubens
© William Lisle Bowles
Nay, let us gaze, ev'n till the sense is full,
Upon the rich creation, shadowed so
