Nature Poems
0The days grow darker as the nights grow chill.
The wind blows shrill as darkest nights grow chill.
The wolves howl, the moon rises, as nights grow chill.
Darkness dances as snowy winter falls.
The swirling snow caught by the breeze slowly
Falls, making snowy mounds over dark halls.
Death comes touching all, taking lives in icy
Halls. Fires glow, torches sputter, as the snow falls.
The days grow darker as the nights grow chill.
The wind blows shrill as darkest nights grow chill.
The wolves howl, the moon rises, as nights grow chill.
Darkness dances as snowy winter falls.
Brittle shields shatter, swords stuck by frost.
The wind dies, the silence sweeps through dark halls.
Snow keeps falling, men stop dying, as Life
Breathes back that which was taken as the snow falls.
The days grow darker as the nights grow chill.
The wind blows shrill as darkest nights grow chill.
The wolves howl, the moon rises, as nights grow chill.
Darkness dances as snowy winter falls.
All things stop, for the snowy winter falls.
This poem was written/submitted by Jared R. Harmon.
0 In the still of a warm summer’s night,
I venture towards the barn with saddle in hand.
Stirrups dangle and clang with no one in sight,
I blissfully tack up my steed for a moonlight ride.
We glide together through sweet smelling meadows,
Not a care in the world only smiles.
Guided by the moon’s light and shadows,
We quickly move up the hill for another view.
Wind in our hair and sparks in our stride,
We fly through the hilltop’s water mists.
There’s nothing like this but pride.
Our backs to city lights, the other view,
We find calmness of the trail.
A warm summer breeze upon us,
We see a mother and her quail.
The barn in sight, we pick up speed.
Laughter is in the air,
What a ride it’s been,
And we race on without a care.
We proudly halt, and walk into the barn.
This poem was written/submitted by Kathy Timeoni.
0 In thy nature is beauty
in thy nature is earth
in thy nature i find my worth
in thy nature is peace
in thy nature i find myself
in thy nature every lasting greens
in thy nature there is more to be seen
in thy nature a beauty untold
in thy nature everything is worth more than gold
This poem was written/submitted by STEPHANIE MCGRATH.
0 THROUGH halls of vanished pleasure,
And hold of vanished power,
And crypt of faith forgotten,
A came to Ludlow tower.
A-top of arch and stairway,
Of crypt and donjan cell,
Of council hall, and chamber,
Of wall, and ditch, and well,
High over grated turrets
Where clinging ivies run,
A thousand scarlet poppies
Enticed the rising sun,
Upon the topmost turret,
With death and damp below,–
Three hundred years of spoilage,–
The crimson poppies grow.
This hall it was that bred him,
These hills that knew him brave,
The gentlest English singer
That fills an English grave.
How have they heart to blossom
So cruel and gay and red,
When beauty so hath perished
And valour so hath sped?
When knights so fair are rotten,
And captains true asleep,
And singing lips are dust-stopped
Six English earth-feet deep?
When ages old remind me
How much hath gone for naught,
What wretched ghost remaineth
Of all that flesh hath wrought;
Of love and song and warring,
Of adventure and play,
Of art and comely building,
Of faith and form and fray–
I’ll mind the flowers of pleasure,
Of short-lived youth and sleep,
That drunk the sunny weather
A-top of Ludlow keep.
This poem was written/submitted by Willa Cather.
0 UNDER the overhanging yews,
The dark owls sit in solemn state,
Like stranger gods; by twos and twos
Their red eyes gleam. They meditate.
Motionless thus they sit and dream
Until that melancholy hour
When, with the sun’s last fading gleam,
The nightly shades assume their power.
From their still attitude the wise
Will learn with terror to despise
All tumult, movement, and unrest;
For he who follows every shade,
Carries the memory in his breast,
Of each unhappy journey made.
This poem was written/submitted by Charles Baudelaire.
0 NOW droops the troubled year
And now her tiny sunset stains the leaf.
A holy fear,
A rapt, elusive grief,
Make imminent the swift, exalting tear.
The long wind’s weary sigh–
Knowest, O listener! for what it wakes?
Adown the sky
What star of Time forsakes
Her pinnacle? What dream and dreamer die?
A presence half-divine
Stands at the threshold, ready to depart
Without a sign.
Now seems the world’s deep heart
About to break. What sorrow stirs in mine?
A mist of twilight rain
Hides now the orange edges of the day.
In vain, in vain
We labor that thou stay,
Beauty who wast, and shalt not be again!
This poem was written/submitted by George Sterling.
0 ‘LL rest me in this sheltered bower,
And look upon the clear blue sky
That smiles upon me through the trees,
Which stand so thick clustering by;
And view their green and glossy leaves,
All glistening in the sunshine fair;
And list the rustling of their boughs,
So softly whispering through the air.
And while my ear drinks in the sound,
My winged soul shall fly away;
Reviewing lone departed years
As one mild, beaming, autumn day;
And soaring on to future scenes,
Like hills and woods, and valleys green,
All basking in the summer’s sun,
But distant still, and dimly seen.
Oh, list! ’tis summer’s very breath
That gently shakes the rustling trees–
But look! the snow is on the ground–
How can I think of scenes like these?
‘Tis but the FROST that clears the air,
And gives the sky that lovely blue;
They’re smiling in a WINTER’S sun,
Those evergreens of sombre hue.
And winter’s chill is on my heart–
How can I dream of future bliss?
How can my spirit soar away,
Confined by such a chain as this?
This poem was written/submitted by Anne Bronte.
