Weather poems
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Hymn to Life
© James Schuyler
The wind rests its cheek upon the ground and feels the cool damp
And lifts its head with twigs and small dead blades of grass
The Months
© Linda Pastan
Contorted by wind,
mere armatures for ice or snow,
the trees resolve
to endure for now,
No Words Can Describe It
© Mark Strand
How those fires burned that are no longer, how the weather worsened, how the shadow of the seagull vanished without a trace
A Summer Recollection
© Sarah Flower Adams
Night comes!She seeks her rest.
Peace, fold her to thy breast!
And loveliest dreams unto her sleep be given:
The blessing she has brought
Into her soul be wrought!
On Earth there is no purer, brighter Heaven!
The Spirit Of The Snow
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
The night brings forth the morn-
Of the cloud is lightning born;
From out the darkest earth the brightest roses grow.
Bright sparks from black flints fly,
And from out a leaden sky
Comes the silvery-footed Spirit of the Snow.
Remarks Of Increase D. O'phace, Esquire
© James Russell Lowell
At An Extrumpery Caucus In State Street, Reported By Mr. H. Biglow
No? Hez he? He haint, though? Wut? Voted agin him?
Totem
© Eamon Grennan
All Souls’ over, the roast seeds eaten, I set
on a backporch post our sculpted pumpkin
Under the Greenwood Tree
© William Shakespeare
Vnder the greene wood tree,
who loues to lye with mee,
An April Fool
© Alfred Austin
I sallied afield when the bud first swells,
And the sun first slanteth hotly,
And I came on a yokel in cap and bells,
And a suit of saffron motley.
Love Me Little, Love Me Long
© Pierre Reverdy
Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.
‘Be Music, Night’
© Kenneth Patchen
Be music, night,
That her sleep may go
Where angels have their pale tall choirs
To Sir George Howland Beaumont, Bart From the South-West Coast Or Cumberland 1811
© William Wordsworth
FAR from our home by Grasmere's quiet Lake,
From the Vale's peace which all her fields partake,
Here on the bleakest point of Cumbria's shore
We sojourn stunned by Ocean's ceaseless roar;
The Weather-Prophet
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
A Fable.
"WHAT can the matter be with the thermometer?
Is it the sun or the moon or the comet, or
Something broke loose in the old earth's pedometer?"
Duke
© Richard Jones
He was hit back of the head for a haul of $15,
a Diner’s Club Card and picture of his daughter in a helmet
on a horse tethered to a pole that centered
its revolving universe. Pacing the halls, he’d ask
The Rest
© Ezra Pound
Artists broken against her,
A-stray, lost in the villages,
Mistrusted, spoken-against,
The Instruction Manual
© John Ashbery
As I sit looking out of a window of the building
I wish I did not have to write the instruction manual on the uses of a new metal.
