Weather poems
/ page 28 of 80 /
What Have We All Forgotten?
© Henry Lawson
WHAT have we all forgotten, at the break of the seventh year?
With a nation born to the ages and a Bad Time borne on its bier!
Public robbing, and lying that death cannot erase
Private strife and deceptionCover the bad dead face!
Drinking, gambling and madnessCover and bear it away
But what have we all forgotten at the dawn of the seventh day?
Miss Blanche Says
© Francis Bret Harte
And you are the poet, and so you want
Something--what is it?--a theme, a fancy?
The Jackdaw
© William Cowper
There is a bird who, by his coat
And by the hoarseness of his note,
Might be supposed a crow;
A great frequenter of the church,
Where, bishop-like, he finds a perch,
And dormitory too.
For He Was Scotch, and So Was She
© Jean Blewett
THEY were a couple well content
With what they earned and what they spent,
Cared not a whit for style's decree
For he was Scotch, and so was she.
One Day And Another: A Lyrical Eclogue Part V
© Madison Julius Cawein
_We, whom God sets a task,
Striving, who ne'er attain,
We are the curst!--who ask
Death, and still ask in vain.
We, whom God sets a task._
A Lover's Quarrel
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
And all through the riotous, ardent weather
We dreamed, and loved, and rejoiced together.
To my mother
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
LIKE streamlets to a silent sea,
These songs with varied motion
Flow from bright fancy's uplands free,
To Lethe's clouded ocean;
High Summer
© Katharine Tynan
Pinks and syringa in the garden closes
And the sweet privet hedge and golden roses.
The pines hot in the sun, the drone of the bee;
They die in Flanders to keep these for me.
Here In This spring
© Dylan Thomas
Here in this spring, stars float along the void;
Here in this ornamental winter
Down pelts the naked weather;
This summer buries a spring bird.
Poems For Piraye (9 To 10 OClock Poems)
© Nazim Hikmet
Remembering you is good
in prison
amid the news
of victory and death
as my fortieth year passes...
The Atlas
© Kenneth Slessor
I. The King of Cuckooz
THE King of Cuckooz Contrey
Hangs peaked above Argier
With Janzaries and Marabutts
The Spirit Of Discovery By Sea - Book The First
© William Lisle Bowles
Awake a louder and a loftier strain!
Beloved harp, whose tones have oft beguiled
The Feud
© Frederick George Scott
I hear a cry from the Sansard cave,
O mother, will no one hearken?
A cry of the lost, will no one save?
A cry of the dead, though the oceans rave,
And the scream of a gull as he wheels o'er a grave,
While the shadows darken and darken.'
Fatherhood
© William Barnes
Let en zit, wi' his dog an' his cat,
Wi' their noses a-turn'd to the vier,
The Salad. By Virgil
© William Cowper
The winter night now well nigh worn away,
The wakeful cock proclaimed approaching day,
When Simulus, poor tenant of a farm
Of narrowest limits, heard the shrill alarm,
The Task: Book I. -- The Sofa
© William Cowper
I sing the Sofa. I who lately sang
Truth, Hope, and Charity, and touched with awe
