Poems on the topic: nature

Poems on the topic “nature” on Poets.by.

ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

I'm sorry for the Dead -- Today --

I'm sorry for the Dead -- Today -- It's such congenial times Old Neighbors have at fences -- It's time o' year for Hay. And Broad -- Sunburned Acquaintance Discourse between the Toil -- And laugh, a homely species That makes the Fences smile -- It seems so straight to lie away From all of the noise of Fields -- The Busy Carts -- the fragrant Cocks -- The Mower's Metre -- Steals -- A Trouble lest they're homesick -- Those Farmers -- and their Wives -- Set separate from the Farming -- And all the Neighbors' lives --
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

When I hoped, I recollect

When I hoped, I recollect Just the place I stood -- At a Window facing West -- Roughest Air -- was good -- Not a Sleet could bite me -- Not a frost could cool -- Hope it was that kept me warm -- Not Merino shawl -- When I feared -- I recollect Just the Day it was -- Worlds were lying out to Sun -- Yet how Nature froze -- Icicles upon my soul Prickled Blue and Cool -- Bird went praising everywhere -- Only Me -- was still --
CheerfulEmily Dickinson

The Flower must not blame the Bee

The Flower must not blame the Bee -- That seeketh his felicity Too often at her door -- But teach the Footman from Vevay -- Mistress is "not at home" -- to say -- To people -- any more!
CheerfulEmily Dickinson

I suppose the time will come

I suppose the time will come Aid it in the coming When the Bird will crowd the Tree And the Bee be booming. I suppose the time will come Hinder it a little When the Corn in Silk will dress And in Chintz the Apple I believe the Day will be When the Jay will giggle At his new white House the Earth That, too, halt a little --
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

Like Rain it sounded till it curved

Like Rain it sounded till it curved And then I new 'twas Wind -- It walked as wet as any Wave But swept as dry as sand -- When it had pushed itself away To some remotest Plain A coming as of Hosts was heard It filled the Wells, it pleased the Pools It warbled in the Road -- It pulled the spigot from the Hills And let the Floods abroad -- It loosened acres, lifted seas The sites of Centres stirred Then like Elijah rode away Upon a Wheel of Cloud.
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

I know a place where Summer strives

I know a place where Summer strives With such a practised Frost -- She -- each year -- leads her Daisies back -- Recording briefly -- "Lost" -- But when the South Wind stirs the Pools And struggles in the lanes -- Her Heart misgives Her, for Her Vow -- And she pours soft Refrains Into the lap of Adamant -- And spices -- and the Dew -- That stiffens quietly to Quartz -- Upon her Amber Shoe --
CheerfulEmily Dickinson

How happy is the little Stone

How happy is the little Stone That rambles in the Road alone, And doesn't care about Careers And Exigencies never fears -- Whose Coat of elemental Brown A passing Universe put on, And independent as the Sun Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute Decree In casual simplicity --
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

Further in Summer than the Birds

Further in Summer than the Birds Pathetic from the Grass A minor Nation celebrates Its unobtrusive Mass. No Ordinance be seen So gradual the Grace A pensive Custom it becomes Enlarging Loneliness. Antiquest felt at Noon When August burning low Arise this spectral Canticle Repose to typify Remit as yet no Grace No Furrow on the Glow Yet a Druidic Difference Enhances Nature now
SadEmily Dickinson

How the Waters closed above Him

How the Waters closed above Him We shall never know -- How He stretched His Anguish to us That -- is covered too -- Spreads the Pond Her Base of Lilies Bold above the Boy Whose unclaimed Hat and Jacket Sum the History --
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

The Mountain sat upon the Plain

The Mountain sat upon the Plain In his tremendous Chair -- His observation omnifold, His inquest, everywhere -- The Seasons played around his knees Like Children round a sire -- Grandfather of the Days is He Of Dawn, the Ancestor --
CheerfulEmily Dickinson

Through the Dark Sod -- as Education

Through the Dark Sod -- as Education -- The Lily passes sure -- Feels her white foot -- no trepidation -- Her faith -- no fear -- Afterward -- in the Meadow -- Swinging her Beryl Bell -- The Mold-life -- all forgotten -- now -- In Ecstasy -- and Dell --
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

We should not mind so small a flower

We should not mind so small a flower -- Except it quiet bring Our little garden that we lost Back to the Lawn again. So spicy her Carnations nod -- So drunken, reel her Bees -- So silver steal a hundred flutes From out a hundred trees -- That whoso sees this little flower By faith may clear behold The Bobolinks around the throne And Dandelions gold.

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