Weather poems
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Amyntor's Grove, His Chloris, Arigo, And Gratiana. An Elogie
© Richard Lovelace
It was Amyntor's Grove, that Chloris
For ever ecchoes, and her glories;
Chloris, the gentlest sheapherdesse,
That ever lawnes and lambes did blesse;
A Meeting
© Edith Wharton
On a sheer peak of joy we meet;
Below us hums the abyss;
Death either way allures our feet
If we take one step amiss.
The Song Of The Builder
© Edgar Albert Guest
I sink my piers to the solid rock,
And I send my steel to the sky,
And I pile up the granite, block by block
Full twenty stories high;
Nor wind nor weather shall wash away
The thing that I've builded, day by day.
The Things That Matter
© Edith Nesbit
NOW that I've nearly done my days,
And grown too stiff to sweep or sew,
Scotch Stuff
© George Ade
Scotch stuff has come to stay,
Now the burr drives out the brogue;
Here in the U. S. A.
The " hoot mon " is in vogue.
Hail to the canny Scot,
He'll get what's to be got.
Snow Falling Through Fog
© William Matthews
This is how we used to imagine
the ocean floor: a steady snow of dead
diatoms and forams drifting
higher in the sunken plains, a soggy
dust on the climbing underwater
peaks. But such a weather
A Farmhouse Dirge
© Alfred Austin
Will you walk with me to the brow of the hill, to visit the farmer's wife,
Whose daughter lies in the churchyard now, eased of the ache of life?
Half a mile by the winding lane, another half to the top:
There you may lean o'er the gate and rest; she will want me awhile to stop,
Stop and talk of her girl that is gone and no more will wake or weep,
Or to listen rather, for sorrow loves to babble its pain to sleep.
Elegy On Partridge
© Jonathan Swift
Well; 'tis as Bickerstaff has guess'd,
Though we all took it for a jest:
Ajanta
© Muriel Rukeyser
CAME in my full youth to the midnight cave
nerves ringing; and this thing I did alone.
The Quarter-Gunner's Yarn
© Sir Henry Newbolt
We lay at St. Helen's, and easy she rode
With one anchor catted and fresh-water stowed;
When the barge came alongside like bullocks we roared,
For we knew what we carried with Nelson aboard.
Shall gods be said to thump the clouds
© Dylan Thomas
Shall gods be said to thump the clouds
When clouds are cursed by thunder,
Be said to weep when weather howls?
Shall rainbows be their tunics' colour?
An AutumnBlooming Rose
© Alfred Austin
I found, and plucked, an autumn-blooming rose,
And shut my eyes, and scented all its savour:
When lo! as in the month the blackthorn blows,
Lambs 'gan to bleat, and merle and lark to quaver.
Of The Nature Of Things: Book II - Part 01 - Proem
© Lucretius
'Tis sweet, when, down the mighty main, the winds
Roll up its waste of waters, from the land
Credidimus Jovem Regnare
© James Russell Lowell
O days endeared to every Muse,
When nobody had any Views,
Pieter Marinus
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
So, when my time comes, send no angels down
With lutes, and harps, and foreign instruments,
To pipe old Pieter's spirit up to heaven
Past his tall namesake sturdy at his post.
The Farmer's Boy - Winter
© Robert Bloomfield
If now in beaded rows drops deck the spray,
While _Phoebus_ grants a momentary ray,
Let but a cloud's broad shadow intervene,
And stiffen'd into gems the drops are seen;
And down the furrow'd oak's broad southern side
Streams of dissolving rime no longer glide.
