Weather poems

/ page 55 of 80 /

Order by :

1
. . .
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
. . .
80

I grew. Foul weather, dreams, forebodings...

© Boris Pasternak

I grew. Foul weather, dreams, forebodings
Were bearing me - a Ganymede -
Away from earth; distress was growing
Like wings - to spread, to hold, to lead.

Hail, little herald!--Art thou then returning
From summer lands, this wild and wind-torn day?
Hast brought the word for which our hearts are yearning,
That spring is on the way?
Hark! Now there comes a clear, insistent calling,

Intaglio - Frank Denz

© Henry Kendall

Oh, women and men who have known the perils of weather and wave,
It is sad that my sweet ones are blown under sea without shelter of grave;
I sob like a child in the night, when the gale on the waters is loud
My darlings went down in my sight, with neither a coffin nor shroud.

The Church-Porch. Perirrhanterium

© George Herbert

Thou, whose sweet youth and early hopes inhance
Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a treasure,
Hearken unto a Vesper, who may chance
Ryme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure:
A verse may finde him who a sermon flies,
And turn delight into a sacrifice.

Maud Muller Mutatur

© Franklin Pierce Adams

Maud Muller, on a summer's day,
Powdered her nose with Bon Sachet.

Adventure of a Poet

© Robert Fuller Murray

As I was walking down the street
A week ago,
Near Henderson's I chanced to meet
A man I know.

The Fountain

© James Russell Lowell

Into the sunshine,
Full of the light,
Leaping and flashing
From morn till night!

The Shepherds Calendar - February - A Thaw

© John Clare

Ploughmen go whistling to their toils
And yoke again the rested plough
And mingling oer the mellow soils
Boys' shouts and whips are noising now

Adam And Eve

© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall

And when day wearied and night grew stronger,
And they slept as the beautiful must,
Then she bided a little longer,
And blossomed from their dust.

At Lofting-Holt

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

SINCE I left the city's heat

For this sylvan, cool retreat,

Strange Fruit

© Robert Laurence Binyon

This year the grain is heavy--ripe;
The apple shows a ruddier stripe;
Never berries so profuse
Blackened with so sweet a juice

Up And Down The Lanes Of Love

© Edgar Albert Guest

UP and down the lanes of love,

With the bright blue skies above,

Sudden Fine Weather

© James Henry Leigh Hunt

Reader! what soul that laoves a verse can see
The spring return, nor glow like you and me?
Hear the quick birds, and see the landscape fill,
Nor long to utter his melodious will?

May and the Poets

There is May in books forever;
May will part from Spenser never;
May's in Milton, May's in Prior,
May's in Chaucer, Thomson, Dyer;

The Passing Strange

Out of the earth to rest or range
Perpetual in perpetual change,
The unknown passing through the strange.

The Monks of St. Mark

'Tis midnight: the sky is with clouds overcast;
The forest-trees bend in the loud-rushing blast;
The rain strongly beats on these time-hallow'd spires;
The lightning pours swiftly its blue-pointed fires;
Triumphant the tempest-fiend rides in the dark,
And howls round the old abbey-walls of St. Mark!

The Wanderer

ALL day they loitered by the resting ships,
Telling their beauties over, taking stock;
At night the verdict left my messmate's lips,
"The Wanderer is the finest ship in dock."

The Everlasting Mercy

Thy place is biggyd above the sterrys cleer,
Noon erthely paleys wrouhte in so statly wyse,
Com on my freend, my brothir moost enteer,
For the I offryd my blood in sacrifise.
John Lydgate.