Weather poems

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Those Winter Sundays

© Robert Hayden

Sundays too my father got up early
And put his clothes on in the blueback cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

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The Whipping

© Robert Hayden

The old woman across the way
is whipping the boy again
and shouting to the neighborhood
her goodness and his wrongs.

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The Deserted Garden

© Alan Seeger

I know a village in a far-off land
Where from a sunny, mountain-girdled plain
With tinted walls a space on either hand
And fed by many an olive-darkened lane

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The Swimmer

© Adam Lindsay Gordon

With short, sharp violent lights made vivid,
To the southward far as the sight can roam,
Only the swirl of the surges livid,
The seas that climb and the surfs that comb,

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Gone

© Adam Lindsay Gordon

IN Collins Street standeth a statute tall,
A statue tall, on a pillar of stone,
Telling its story, to great and small,
Of the dust reclaimed from the sand waste lone;

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Weather

© Ambrose Bierce

Once I dipt into the future far as human eye could see,
And I saw the Chief Forecaster, dead as any one can be--
Dead and damned and shut in Hades as a liar from his birth,
With a record of unreason seldome paralleled on earth.

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Sonnet 07

© Robert Southey

(to the rainbow)Mild arch of promise! on the evening sky
Thou shinest fair with many a lovely ray
Each in the other melting. Much mine eye
Delights to linger on thee; for the day,

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Bixby's Landing

© Robinson Jeffers

They burned lime on the hill and dropped it down
here in an iron car
On a long cable; here the ships warped in
And took their loads from the engine, the water

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Sheep

© Robert Francis

From where I stand the sheep stand still
As stones against the stony hill.The stones are gray
And so are they.And both are weatherworn and round,
Leading the eye back to the ground.Two mingled flocks -

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Return

© Robert Francis

This little house sows the degrees
By which wood can return to trees.Weather has stained the shingles dark
And indistinguishable from bark.Lichen that long ago adjourned
Its lodging here has now returned.And if you look in through the door

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Silent Poem

© Robert Francis

backroad leafmold stonewall chipmunk
underbrush grapevine woodchuck shadblow woodsmoke cowbarn honeysuckle woodpile
sawhorse bucksaw outhouse wellsweep backdoor flagstone bulkhead buttermilk
candlestick ragrug firedog brownbread hilltop outcrop cowbell buttercup

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Prayer In Bad Weather

© Charles Bukowski

by God, I don't know what to
do.
they're so nice to have around.
they have a way of playing with

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Cows In Art Class

© Charles Bukowski

good weather
is like
good women-
it doesn't always happen

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The Sun Sets in Molten Gold

© Li Ching Chao

The sun sets in molten gold.
The evening clouds form a jade disk.
Where is he?
Dense white mist envelops the willows.

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Sorrow

© Li Ching Chao

To the melody of "Sheng Sheng Man"I pine and peak
And questless seek
Groping and moping to linger and languish
Anon to wander and wonder, glare, stare and start

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Pau-Puk-Keewis

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

You shall hear how Pau-Puk-Keewis,
He, the handsome Yenadizze,
Whom the people called the Storm-Fool,
Vexed the village with disturbance;

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Picture-Writing

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

In those days said Hiawatha,
"Lo! how all things fade and perish!
From the memory of the old men
Pass away the great traditions,

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Morituri Salutamus: Poem for the Fiftieth Anniversary

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Phantoms of fame, like exhalations, rose
And vanished,--we who are about to die,
Salute you; earth and air and sea and sky,
And the Imperial Sun that scatters down
His sovereign splendors upon grove and town.

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The Building of the Ship

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

"Build me straight, O worthy Master!
Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel,
That shall laugh at all disaster,
And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!"

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Walter Von Der Vogelweid

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Vogelweid the Minnesinger,
When he left this world of ours,
Laid his body in the cloister,
Under Wurtzburg's minster towers.