Nature poems
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Naucratia; Or Naval Dominion. Part II.
© Henry James Pye
Yet midst the scene of dread, when certain fate
Rides on the tempest in terrific state,
Bold in the face of death the naval train
Exert their force, and brave the insulting main;
Though rising horrors on their efforts lower,
And the deaf whirlwind mock their useless power.
Immorality
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Have you heard, my friend, the slander that the Negro has to face?
Immorality, the grossest, has been charged up to his race.
Listen, listen to my story, as I now proceed to tell
Of conditions in the Southland, where the mass of Negroes dwell.
Clara Morris (Written for a Benefit Given Mrs. Morris)
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
The Radiant Ruler of Mystic Regions
Where souls of artists are fitted for birth,
Bonie Lesley
© Robert Burns
The Deil he couldna scaith thee,
Or aught that wad belang thee;
He'd look into thy bonnie face
And say, 'I canna wrang thee!'
Bon conseil aux amants
© Victor Marie Hugo
L'amour fut de tout temps un bien rude Ananké.
Si l'on ne veut pas être à la porte flanqué,
Dès qu'on aime une belle, on s'observe, on se scrute ;
On met le naturel de côté ; bête brute,
Earlier Poems : Sunrise On The Hills
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch
Was glorious with the sun's returning march,
That Nature Is Not Subject To Decay (Translated From Milton)
© William Cowper
Ah, how the Human Mind wearies herself
With her own wand'rings, and, involved in gloom
Deaths Genius
© Johannes Carsten Hauch
Oh you who weep, brush all your tears aside!
And you who mourn, recall grief wont abide!
For youll know rest when your heart beats no more,
Deaths angel you from all your wounds will cure.
The Fisher
© Roderic Quinn
ALL night a noise of leaping fish
Went round the bay,
And up and down the shallow sands
Sang waters at their play.
The Birth Of Spring
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
O Kathleen, my darling, I've dreamt such a dream,
'Tis as hopeful and bright as the summer's first beam:
Nancy of the Vale
© William Shenstone
The western sky was purpled o'er
With every pleasing ray;
And flocks reviving felt no more
The sultry heats of day;
Anelida and Arcite
© Geoffrey Chaucer
Iamque domos patrias Cithice post aspera gentis
Prelia laurigero subeunte Thesea curru
Letifici plausus missusque ad sidera vulgi
Aux arbres
© Victor Marie Hugo
Arbres de la forêt, vous connaissez mon âme!
Au gré des envieux, la foule loue et blâme ;
Vous me connaissez, vous! - vous m'avez vu souvent,
Seul dans vos profondeurs, regardant et rêvant.
The Ghost-Seer
© James Russell Lowell
Ye who, passing graves by night,
Glance not to the left or right,
A Poetical Epistle To Lady Austen
© William Cowper
Dear Anna, -- Between friend and friend,
Prose answers every common end;
To Alexander Pope, Esq.
© Mary Barber
Accept, illustrious Shade! these artless Lays;
My Soul this Homage, to thy Virtue pays:
Led by that sacred Light, a Stranger--Muse
Attempts those Paths, which abler Feet refuse;
In distant Climes thy Virtue she admires,
In distant Climes thy Worth her Strain inspires.
Hymns to the Night : 1
© Novalis
Before all the wondrous shows of the widespread space around him, what living, sentient thing loves not the all-joyous light - with its colors, its rays and undulations, its gentle omnipresence in the form of the wakening Day? The giant-world of the unresting constellations inhales it as the innermost soul of life, and floats dancing in its blue flood - the sparkling, ever-tranquil stone, the thoughtful, imbibing plant, and the wild, burning multiform beast inhales it - but more than all, the lordly stranger with the sense-filled eyes, the swaying walk, and the sweetly closed, melodious lips. Like a king over earthly nature, it rouses every force to countless transformations, binds and unbinds innumerable alliances, hangs its heavenly form around every earthly substance. - Its presence alone reveals the marvelous splendor of the kingdoms of the world.
Aside I turn to the holy, unspeakable, mysterious Night. Afar lies the world - sunk in a deep grave - waste and lonely is its place. In the chords of the bosom blows a deep sadness. I am ready to sink away in drops of dew, and mingle with the ashes. - The distances of memory, the wishes of youth, the dreams of childhood, the brief joys and vain hopes of a whole long life, arise in gray garments, like an evening vapor after the sunset. In other regions the light has pitched its joyous tents. What if it should never return to its children, who wait for it with the faith of innocence?
On The Lighthouse At Antibes
© Mathilde Blind
The evening knows thee ere the evening star;
Or sees that flame sole Regent of the bight,
When storm, hoarse rumoured by the hills afar,
Makes mariners steer landward by thy light,
Which shows through shock of hostile nature's war
How man keeps watch o'er man through deadliest night.
Religious Musings : A Desultory Poem Written On The Christmas Eve Of 1794
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
What tho' first,
In years unseason'd, I attuned the lay
To idle passion and unreal woe?
Yet serious truth her empire o'er my song
