Weather poems
/ page 49 of 80 /The Lady of Shalott
© Alfred Tennyson
In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining,
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower'd Camelot;
Of The Nature Of Things: Book IV - Part 02 - Existence And Character Of The Images
© Lucretius
But since I've taught already of what sort
The seeds of all things are, and how distinct
The Wanderer
© Bernhard Severin Ingemann
ALL the sky was dull and drear,
But what cared I!
For my sky shone bright and clear
In Eliza's eye.
Autumn Wealth
© Kristijonas Donelaitis
Of course, there is no lack of faithful Christians ,too.
Most of Lithuanians are men of good character;
They love their families, obey the will of God.
Each day live saintly lives, steer clear of all misdeeds,
And rule their modest homes with kind parental care.
Constable MCartys Investigations
© Henry Lawson
Most unpleasantly adjacent to the haunts of lower orders
Stood a terrace in the city when the current year began,
For Charles Dickens
© Mary Hannay Foott
He brings no pageants of the past
To wile our hearts away;
But wins our love for those who cast
Their lot with ours to-day.
The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons - Canto Seventh
© William Wordsworth
"Powers there are
That touch each other to the quick--in modes
Which the gross world no sense hath to perceive,
No soul to dream of."
A Winter Piece
© Bliss William Carman
OVER the rim of a lacquered bowl,
Where a cold blue water-color stands
I see the wintry breakers roll
And heave their froth up the freezing sands.
Reapers
© Mathilde Blind
Sun-Tanned men and women, toiling there together;
Seven I count in all, in yon field of wheat,
Where the rich ripe ears in the harvest weather
Glow an orange gold through the sweltering heat.
Songs Of Seven (complete)
© Jean Ingelow
There’s no dew left on the daisies and clover,
There’s no rain left in heaven:
I’ve said my “seven times” over and over,
Seven times one are seven.
Grandpa's Christmas
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
In his great cushioned chair by the fender
An old man sits dreaming to-night,
In Memory of Marina Tsvetaeva
© Boris Pasternak
Dismal day, with the weather inclement.
Inconsolably rivulets run
Down the porch in front of the doorway;
Through my wide-open windows they come.
Just To Drift
© Roderic Quinn
DRIFTING down the Harbour,
Stars on high,
Lovers of the surface,
You and I,
To Mother Venus
© Eugene Field
O mother Venus, quit, I pray,
Your violent assailing!
The arts, forsooth, that fired my youth
At last are unavailing;
My blood runs cold, I'm getting old,
And all my powers are failing.
The Maids Of Attitash
© John Greenleaf Whittier
In sky and wave the white clouds swam,
And the blue hills of Nottingham
Through gaps of leafy green
Across the lake were seen,
Love And Discipline
© Henry Vaughan
Since in a land not barren still
(Because Thou dost Thy grace distill)
My lot is fallen, blest be Thy will!
Give Me Freshening Breeze, My Boys
© Louisa May Alcott
'Give me freshening breeze, my boys,
A white and swelling sail,
A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - July
© George MacDonald
1.
ALAS, my tent! see through it a whirlwind sweep!