Nature poems
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Dickinson Poems by Number
© Emily Dickinson
One Sister have I in our house,
And one, a hedge away.
There's only one recorded,
But both belong to me.
397. Song-Wandering Willie (Revised Version)
© Robert Burns
HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame;
396. Song-Wandering Willie
© Robert Burns
HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Now tired with wandering, haud awa hame;
380. Song-Saw ye Bonie Lesley
© Robert Burns
O SAW ye bonie Lesley,
As she gaed o’er the Border?
She’s gane, like Alexander,
To spread her conquests farther.
341. Song-My Bonie Bell
© Robert Burns
THE SMILING Spring comes in rejoicing,
And surly Winter grimly flies;
32. Song-Green Grow the Rashes
© Robert Burns
Chor.—Green grow the rashes, O;
Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours that e’er I spend,
Are spent amang the lasses, O.
30. Song-Composed in August
© Robert Burns
NOW westlin winds and slaught’ring guns
Bring Autumn’s pleasant weather;
299. Sketch-New Year’s Day, 1790
© Robert Burns
THIS day, Time winds th’ exhausted chain;
To run the twelvemonth’s length again:
I see, the old bald-pated fellow,
With ardent eyes, complexion sallow,
Adjust the unimpair’d machine,
To wheel the equal, dull routine.
263. Song-The Gardener wi’ his Paidle
© Robert Burns
WHEN rosy May comes in wi’ flowers,
To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers,
Then busy, busy are his hours,
The Gard’ner wi’ his paidle.
The Prospect Behind Us
© Zitner Sheldon
There are more poets per capita in Canada than in any other country,including the countries that have not yet developed prose,
232. Song-The Day Returns
© Robert Burns
THE DAY returns, my bosom burns,
The blissful day we twa did meet:
218. Song-Talk of him that’s Far Awa
© Robert Burns
MUSING on the roaring ocean,
Which divides my love and me;
Wearying heav’n in warm devotion,
For his weal where’er he be.
205. Song-Go on, Sweet Bird, and Soothe my Care
© Robert Burns
FOR thee is laughing Nature gay,
For thee she pours the vernal day;
For me in vain is Nature drest,
While Joy’s a stranger to my breast.
The Lark and Her Young Ones with the Owner of a Field
© Wright Elizur
"Depend upon yourself alone," Has to a common proverb grown
You Meaner Beauties Of The Night
© Sir Henry Wotton
You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfy our eyesMore by your number than your light; You common people of the skies, What are you when the sun shall rise?
Yarrow Visited. September, 1814
© William Wordsworth
And is this--Yarrow?--This the streamOf which my fancy cherished,So faithfully, a waking dream?An image that hath perished!O that some Minstrel's harp were near,To utter notes of gladness,And chase this silence from the air,That fills my heart with sadness!
Yet why?--a silvery current flowsWith uncontrolled meanderings;Nor have these eyes by greener hillsBeen soothed, in all my wanderings
Three Years She Grew
© William Wordsworth
Three years she grew in sun and shower,Then Nature said, "A lovelier flowerOn earth was never sown;This Child I to myself will take;She shall be mine, and I will makeA Lady of my own.
The Prelude: Book 2: School-time (Continued)
© William Wordsworth
Thus far, O Friend! have we, though leaving muchUnvisited, endeavour'd to retraceMy life through its first years, and measured backThe way I travell'd when I first beganTo love the woods and fields; the passion yetWas in its birth, sustain'd, as might befal,By nourishment that came unsought, for still,From week to week, from month to month, we liv'dA round of tumult: duly were our gamesProlong'd in summer till the day-light fail'd;No chair remain'd before the doors, the benchAnd threshold steps were empty; fast asleepThe Labourer, and the old Man who had sate,A later lingerer, yet the revelryContinued, and the loud uproar: at last,When all the ground was dark, and the huge cloudsWere edged with twinkling stars, to bed we went,With weary joints, and with a beating mind
The Prelude: Book 1: Childhood and School-time
© William Wordsworth
--Was it for thisThat one, the fairest of all Rivers, lov'dTo blend his murmurs with my Nurse's song,And from his alder shades and rocky falls,And from his fords and shallows, sent a voiceThat flow'd along my dreams? For this, didst Thou,O Derwent! travelling over the green PlainsNear my 'sweet Birthplace', didst thou, beauteous StreamMake ceaseless music through the night and dayWhich with its steady cadence, temperingOur human waywardness, compos'd my thoughtsTo more than infant softness, giving me,Among the fretful dwellings of mankind,A knowledge, a dim earnest, of the calmThat Nature breathes among the hills and groves
