Weather poems

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Another Spring Carol

© Alfred Austin

Now Winter hath drifted
To bygone years,
And the sod is uplifted
By crocus spears;
And out of the hive the bee wings humming,
And we know that the Spring, the Spring, is coming.

A Lay Of St. Nicholas

© Richard Harris Barham

Lord Abbot! Lord Abbot! I'd fain confess;
I am a-weary, and worn with woe;
Many a grief doth my heart oppress,
And haunt me whithersoever I go!'

Out At Plough

© William Barnes

Though cool avore the sheenèn sky

Do vall the sheädes below the copse,

Orpheus

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

What wondrous sound is that, mournful and faint,
But more melodious than the murmuring wind
Which through the columns of a temple glides?

Kingsborough

© Henry Kendall

A waving of hats and of hands,

The voices of thousands in one,

As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone,
And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known,
So I turn the leaves of Fancy, till in shadowy design
I find the smiling features of an old sweetheart of mine.

Lord Ullin's Daughter

© Thomas Campbell

A chieftain, to the Highlands bound,
Cries, ``Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry!''--

The Doves

© Katharine Tynan

The house where I was born,
Where I was young and gay,
Grows old amid its corn,
Amid its scented hay.

The Children of Lir

© Katharine Tynan

Out upon the sand-dunes thrive the coarse long grasses;
Herons standing knee-deep in the brackish pool;
Overhead the sunset fire and flame amasses
And the moon to eastward rises pale and cool.

69. Third Epistle to J. Lapraik

© Robert Burns

But stooks are cowpit wi the blast,
And now the sinn keeks in the west,
Then I maun rin amang the rest,
An quat my chanter;
Sae I subscribe myself in haste,
Yours, Rab the Ranter.Sept. 13, 1785.

344. SongNithdales Welcome Hame

© Robert Burns

THE NOBLE Maxwells and their powers
Are coming oer the border,
And theyll gae big Terreagles towers
And set them a in order.

86. The Auld Farmers New-Year-Morning Salutation to his Auld Mare, Maggie

© Robert Burns

Weve worn to crazy years thegither;
Well toyte about wi ane anither;
Wi tentie care Ill flit thy tether
To some haind rig,
Whare ye may nobly rax your leather,
Wi sma fatigue.