Weather poems
/ page 44 of 80 /The Coast-Road
© Robinson Jeffers
A horseman high-alone as an eagle on the spur of the mountain over Mirmas Canyon draws rein, looks down
At the bridge-builders, men, trucks, the power-shovels, the teeming end of the new coast-road at the mountain’s base.
Different Ways to Pray
© Naomi Shihab Nye
And occasionally there would be one
who did none of this,
the old man Fowzi, for example, Fowzi the fool,
who beat everyone at dominoes,
insisted he spoke with God as he spoke with goats,
and was famous for his laugh.
Song: Out upon it, I have lovd
© Sir John Suckling
Out upon it, I have lovd
Three whole days together;
And am like to love three more,
If it prove fair weather.
A Galloway Song
© John Keats
Ah! ken ye what I met the day
Out oure the Mountains
A coming down by craggi[e]s grey
An mossie fountains --
Andrew Jones
© William Wordsworth
I HATE that Andrew Jones; he'll breed
His children up to waste and pillage.
I wish the press-gang or the drum
With its tantara sound would come,
And sweep him from the village!
A Year and a Day
© Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
Slow days have passed that make a year,
Slow hours that make a day,
Since I could take my first dear love
And kiss him the old way;
Yet the green leaves touch me on the cheek,
Dear Christ, this month of May.
Bleak Weather
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Dear love, where the red lillies blossomed and grew,
The white snows are falling;
A Man May Change
© Marvin Bell
As simply as a self-effacing bar of soap
escaping by indiscernible degrees in the wash water
Youth and Age
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Verse, a breeze mid blossoms straying,
Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee
Both were mine! Life went a-maying
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,
When I was young!
Where does the Winter go?
© Ethel Turner
There goes the Winter, sulkily slinking
Somewhere behind the trees on the hill.
Three Women
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.
Riding Home
© Katharine Tynan
Who are these that go to the high peaks and the snow?
Side by side do they ride, their steady eyes aglow.
Gallant gentlemen, they go spurring o'er the plain;
Home from the war again.
Lob
© Edward Thomas
At hawthorn-time in Wiltshire travelling
In search of something chance would never bring,
A Summer Pastoral
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
It's hot to-day. The bees is buzzin'
Kinder don't-keer-like aroun'
The Redbreast Chasing The Butterfly
© William Wordsworth
ART thou the bird whom Man loves best,
The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
Our little English Robin;
The bird that comes about our doors
The Rover's Apology
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Oh, gentlemen, listen, I pray;
Though I own that my heart has been ranging,