D H Lawrence (1885-1930) Climbing through the January snow, into the Lobo canyon Dark grow the spruce-trees, blue is the balsam, water sounds still unfrozen, and the trail is still evident. Men! Two men! Men! The only animal in the world to fear! Th...
Roy Campbell (1901-1957) From the dark woods that breathe of fallen showers, Harnessed with level rays in golden reins, The zebras draw the dawn across the plains Wading knee-deep among the scarlet flowers. The sunlight, zithering their flanks with...
Rupert Brooke (1887 1915) Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June, Dawdling away their wat'ry noon) Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear, Each secret fishy hope or fear. Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond; But is there anything Beyond? This life can...
Anon Ye little snails, With slippery tails, Who noiselessly travel Along this gravel, By a silvery path of slime unsightly, I learn that you visit my pea-rows nightly. Felonious your visit, I guess! And I give you this warning, That, every morning,...
Robert Herrick (1591-1674) Fair Daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon: As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attained his Noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the Even-song; And, having prayed together, we Will go with you...
Charlotte Mew (1869 - 1928) They are cutting down the great plane-trees at the end of the gardens. For days there has been the grate of the saw, the swish of the branches as they fall, The crash of the trunks, the rustle of trodden leaves, With the...
E J Scovell (1907 - 1999) I would if I could choose Age and die outwards as a tulip does; Not as this iris drawing in, in-coiling Its complex strange taut inflorescence, willing Itself a bud again - though all achieved is No more than a clenched sad...
Andrew Marvell (1621 - 1678) How vainly men themselves amaze To win the palm, the oak, or bays, And their uncessant labours see Crowned from some single herb or tree, Whose short and narrow vergd shade Does prudently their toils upbraid, While all f...
Thomas Hardy (1840-1928) I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre-gray, And Winters dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky Like strings of broken lyres, And all mankind that haunted nigh Had sou...
John Keats (1795 - 1821) My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being to...
