Cool poems

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Apples And Water

© Robert Graves

Dust in a cloud, blinding weather,
Drums that rattle and roar!
A mother and daughter stood together
Beside their cottage door.

Names Upon a Stone: (Inscribed to G. L. Fagan, Esq.)

© Henry Kendall

ACROSS bleak widths of broken sea

A fierce north-easter breaks,

A Summer Summary

© Franklin Pierce Adams

Shall I, lying in a grot,

Die because the day is hot?

Green Symphony

© John Gould Fletcher

I

The glittering leaves of the rhododendrons

Alas! that Passion should profane
Even then the morning of the earth!
That, sadder still, the fatal stain
Should fall on hearts of heavenly birth-
And that from Woman's love should fall
So dark a stain, most sad of all!

Golyer

© John Hay

Ef the way a man lights out of this world
Helps fix his heft for the other sp'ere,
I reckon my old friend Golyer's Ben
Will lay over lots of likelier men
For one thing he done down here.

Lines On Marle Field

© James Thomson

What is the task that to the muse belongs?
What but to deck in her harmonious songs
The beauteous works of nature and of art,
Rural retreats that cheer the heavy heart?

A Rhapsody

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Oh fly not, Pleasure, pleasant--hearted Pleasure.
Fold me thy wings, I prithee, yet and stay.
For my heart no measure
Knows nor other treasure
To buy a garland for my love to--day.

Tale V

© George Crabbe

these,
All that on idle, ardent spirits seize;
Robbers at land and pirates on the main,
Enchanters foil'd, spells broken, giants slain;
Legends of love, with tales of halls and bowers,
Choice of rare songs, and garlands of choice

The Hand In The Dark

© Ada Cambridge

How calm the spangled city spread below!
How cool the night! How fair the starry skies!
How sweet the dewy breezes! But I know
What, under all their seeming beauty, lies.

Childish Recollections

© George Gordon Byron

'I cannot but remember such things were,
And were most dear to me.'
WHEN slow Disease, with all her host of pains,
Chills the warm, tide which flows along the veins

Ode to Fancy

© Joseph Warton

O parent of each lovely Muse,

Thy spirit o'er my soul diffuse,

The four Seasons of the Year.

© Anne Bradstreet

Spring.

Another four I've left yet to bring on,

Counterpoint: Two Rooms

© Conrad Aiken

He, in the room above, grown old and tired;
She, in the room below, his floor her ceiling,
Pursue their separate dreams. He turns his light,
And throws himself on the bed, face down, in laughter.
She, by the window, smiles at a starlight night.