Weather poems
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The Erratic Rat
© Carolyn Wells
There was a ridiculous Rat
Who was awfully puffy and fat.
"I'll carry," he said,
"This plate on my head,
'Twill answer in place of a hat."
The Mice. A Tale - To Mr. Adrian Drift
© Matthew Prior
But why all this? Is this your fable?
Believe me, Matt, it seems a bauble;
If you will let me know th' intent on't,
Go to your mice, and make an end on't.
Picnic-time
© Eugene Field
It's June ag'in, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy
That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy;
For, every June, the Sunday-schools at picnics may be seen,
Where "fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' green";
St. Thomas
© Francis Bret Harte
Then said William Henry Seward,
As he cast his eye to leeward,
"Quite important to our commerce
Is this island of St. Thomas."
Taken All Together
© Gamaliel Bradford
I've had a few diseases,
And trifled with despair,
Tried failure which displeases,
And coquetted with care.
Rip Van Winkle. Canto II.
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
So Rip began to look at peopleâs tongues
And thump their briskets (called it âsound their lungs"),
Brushed up his knowledge smartly as he could,
Read in old Cullen and in Doctor Good.
The town was healthy; for a month or two
He gave the sexton little work to do.
October
© Hilaire Belloc
Mine host the month, at thy good hostelry,
Tired limbs I'll stretch and steaming beast I'll tether;
Pile on great logs with Gascon hand and free,
And pour the Gascon stuff that laughs at weather;
Swell your tough lungs, north wind, no whit care we,
Singing old songs and drinking wine together.
Worth Forest
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Come, Prudence, you have done enough to--day--
The worst is over, and some hours of play
We both have earned, even more than rest, from toil;
Our minds need laughter, as a spent lamp oil,
Lord May I Come?
© Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
Life and night are falling from me,
Death and day are opening on me,
Wherever my footsteps come and go,
Life is a stony way of woe.
Lord, have I long to go?
Mine Own John Poynz
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
Mine own John Poynz, since ye delight to know
The cause why that homeward I me draw,
And flee the press of courts, whereso they go,
Rather than to live thrall under the awe
Is it Possible
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
Is it possibleThat so high debate,So sharp, so sore, and of such rate,Should end so soon and was begun so late?Is it possible?
Song. Cold, Cold Is The Blast When December Is Howling
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Cold, cold is the blast when December is howling,
Cold are the damps on a dying man's brow,--
Stern are the seas when the wild waves are rolling,
And sad is the grave where a loved one lies low;
Beautiful Old Age
© David Herbert Lawrence
It ought to be lovely to be old
to be full of the peace that comes of experience
and wrinkled ripe fulfilment.
One Day And Another: A Lyrical Eclogue Part I
© Madison Julius Cawein
Herein the dearness of her is;
The thirty perfect days of June
Made one, in maiden loveliness
Were not more sweet to clasp and kiss,
With love not more in tune.
At Sea I Learned The Weather
© Harry Kemp
At sea I learned the weather,
At sea I learned to know
That waves raged not forever,
Winds did not ever blow.
May
© John Clare
Come queen of months in company
Wi all thy merry minstrelsy
The restless cuckoo absent long
And twittering swallows chimney song
A Fable
© James Russell Lowell
Two fellers, Isrel named and Joe,
One Sundy mornin' 'greed to go
Agunnin' soon 'z the bells wuz done
And meetin' finally begun,
So'st no one wouldn't be about
Ther Sabbath-breakin' to spy out.
