Famous Nature Poems

Famous Nature Poems

Poems on Nature

The power, ingenuity, and sheer beauty found in nature has always fascinated mankind. When we look at powerful ocean waves rolling in, we cannot help but feel small and powerless in comparison. Mighty trees in a vast forest inspire feelings of insignificance and awe. Animal mothers taking care of their young make us question the cruelty with which we sometimes treat one another. The truth is, nature can teach us many valuable lessons. It can also lead us to wonder, did this beautiful earth with all of its natural treasures come about by chance or was it created?

57 Famous Nature Poems About The Beauty And Brutality Of Nature

  1. 1. I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud

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    "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" is a lyric poem that expresses deep feelings about the beauty of nature. William Wordsworth was a well-known poet of the Romantic era, which began at the beginning of the 1800s. The focus during the Romantic era was on people's feelings and their connectedness to nature. That was a drastic shift from the emphasis on science and reason of the Enlightenment era, which came before. "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" is one of Wordsworth's most famous poems. It was inspired by a journal entry his sister wrote recounting when the two of them went for a walk along the bay and saw a large number of daffodils.

    I wandered lonely as a cloud
    That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
    When all at once I saw a crowd,
    A host, of golden daffodils;
    Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
    Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

    Continuous as the stars that shine
    And twinkle on the milky way,
    They stretched in never-ending line
    Along the margin of a bay:
    Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
    Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

    The waves beside them danced; but they
    Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
    A poet could not but be gay,
    In such a jocund company:
    I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
    What wealth the show to me had brought:

    For oft, when on my couch I lie
    In vacant or in pensive mood,
    They flash upon that inward eye
    Which is the bliss of solitude;
    And then my heart with pleasure fills,
    And dances with the daffodils.

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    Honestly! How lovely is this poem when read aloud. I can see the yellow heads of the daffodils doing their sprightly dance! And, when in the meditative state, I can feel them in my heart...

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  3. 2. Nothing Gold Can Stay

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    Robert Frost is one of the most famous poets from the 1900s. He never earned a formal college degree, but he did receive honorary degrees from more than 40 colleges and universities. This famous poem shows that everything in life is cyclical and that the beauty in nature only lasts for a short period of time. Even though life ends, there is new life waiting to come forth.

    Nature's first green is gold,
    Her hardest hue to hold.
    Her early leaf's a flower;
    But only so an hour.
    Then leaf subsides to leaf.
    So Eden sank to grief,
    So dawn goes down to day.
    Nothing gold can stay.

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  5. 3. It's September

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    Edgar Guest (1881-1959) captures the breathtaking beauty of September and how the world is transformed with hues of gold, orange, red, and yellow. In many of his poems, he used everyday experiences to capture more significant thoughts on life. When reflecting on the end of life, we can see that it is comparable to September, full and ripe, a life well-lived.

    It's September, and the orchards are afire with red and gold,
    And the nights with dew are heavy, and the morning's sharp with cold;
    Now the garden's at its gayest with the salvia blazing red
    And the good old-fashioned asters laughing at us from their bed;
    Once again in shoes and stockings are the children's little feet,
    And the dog now does his snoozing on the bright side of the street.

    It's September, and the cornstalks are as high as they will go,
    And the red cheeks of the apples everywhere begin to show;
    Now the supper's scarcely over ere the darkness settles down
    And the moon looms big and yellow at the edges of the town;
    Oh, it's good to see the children, when their little prayers are said,
    Duck beneath the patchwork covers when they tumble into bed.

    It's September, and a calmness and a sweetness seem to fall
    Over everything that's living, just as though it hears the call
    Of Old Winter, trudging slowly, with his pack of ice and snow,
    In the distance over yonder, and it somehow seems as though
    Every tiny little blossom wants to look its very best
    When the frost shall bite its petals and it droops away to rest.

    It's September! It's the fullness and the ripeness of the year;
    All the work of earth is finished, or the final tasks are near,
    But there is no doleful wailing; every living thing that grows,
    For the end that is approaching wears the finest garb it knows.
    And I pray that I may proudly hold my head up high and smile
    When I come to my September in the golden afterwhile.

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  6. 4. When April Comes

    • By Virna Sheard

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    In the poem "When April Comes" by Virna Sheard (1862 – 1943), the poet paints a vivid and enchanting picture of the arrival of April. Through the use of personification and imagery, the poem captures the essence of spring's arrival. The poet describes April with "softly shining eyes" and daffodils adorning her hair, symbolizing the renewal and beauty of the season. The arrival of April is depicted as a transformative time, as clouds dissipate and the skies clear. The poem celebrates the awakening of nature, with swallows swinging through the air and the joyful melodies of robins and bobolinks. April is portrayed as a rejuvenating force that breathes new life into the world, causing it to momentarily forget its weariness and age. Winter is depicted as a distant memory, with its bitter winds and frost belonging to the past. Overall, the poem captures the anticipation and joy associated with the arrival of April, signaling the arrival of spring and the rebirth of nature.

    When April comes with softly shining eyes,
    And daffodils bound in her wind-blown hair,
    Oh, she will coax all clouds from out the skies,
    And every day will bring some sweet surprise, --
    The swallows will come swinging through the air
    When April comes!

    When April comes with tender smile and tear,
    Dear dandelions will gild the common ways,
    And at the break of morning we will hear
    The piping of the robins crystal clear --
    While bobolinks will whistle through the days,
    When April comes!

    When April comes, the world so wise and old,
    Will half forget that it is worn and grey;
    Winter will seem but as a tale long told --
    Its bitter winds with all its frost and cold
    Will be the by-gone things of yesterday,
    When April comes!

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  7. 5. The Rain

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    In "The Rain" by W.H. Davies, the poet employs a range of poetic techniques to create a vivid and engaging picture of nature. Personification is also used throughout the poem, with the leaves given human qualities of drinking and being rich or poor. Imagery is another key technique used to convey the beauty of the rain, with the sound of leaves drinking described as a "sweet noise." Finally, symbolism is used to underscore the interconnectedness of nature, with the rain and the sun serving as symbols of renewal and transformation. These techniques come together to create a beautiful poem that celebrates the wonders of the nature.

    I hear leaves drinking rain;
    I hear rich leaves on top
    Giving the poor beneath
    Drop after drop;
    ’Tis a sweet noise to hear
    These green leaves drinking near.

    And when the Sun comes out,
    After this Rain shall stop,
    A wondrous Light will fill
    Each dark, round drop;
    I hope the Sun shines bright;
    ’Twill be a lovely sight.

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  8. 6. Pebbles

    • By Frank Dempster Sherman

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    "Pebbles" by Frank Dempster Sherman (1860 -1916) celebrates the beauty and diversity of pebbles found in a clear brook. Each pebble reflects the sunlight, displaying vibrant colors reminiscent of precious gemstones. The poem attributes the craftsmanship to the patient work of water, which tirelessly polishes the pebbles until they shine. The brook's song conveys the message that patience can overcome any obstacle.

    Out of a pellucid brook
    Pebbles round and smooth I took :
    Like a jewel, every one
    Caught a color from the sun, —
    Ruby red and sapphire blue,
    Emerald and onyx too,
    Diamond and amethyst, —
    Not a precious stone I missed :
    Gems I held from every land
    In the hollow of my hand.
    Workman Water these had made ;
    Patiently through sun and shade,
    With the ripples of the rill
    He had polished them until,
    Smooth, symmetrical and bright,
    Each one sparkling in the light
    Showed within its burning heart
    All the lapidary’s art ;
    And the brook seemed thus to sing :
    Patience conquers everything !

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  9. 7. Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

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    This deceptively simple poem is by Robert Frost (1874 – 1963). He wrote it in 1922 in a few moments after being up the entire night writing a long and complicated poem. The poem uses an AABA rhyme scheme. The repetition of the last line emphasizes the profundity contained in the last stanza, a popular reading for funerals.

    Whose woods these are I think I know.   
    His house is in the village though;   
    He will not see me stopping here   
    To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

    My little horse must think it queer   
    To stop without a farmhouse near   
    Between the woods and frozen lake   
    The darkest evening of the year.   

    He gives his harness bells a shake   
    To ask if there is some mistake.   
    The only other sound’s the sweep   
    Of easy wind and downy flake.   

    The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   
    But I have promises to keep,   
    And miles to go before I sleep,   
    And miles to go before I sleep.

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  10. 8. Sea Fever

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    As you read this poem about the beauty of sailing the ocean, imagine the smell of the salt air, the wind on your face and the movement of the waves as you sail toward your destiny.

    I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
    And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
    And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
    And a gray mist on the sea's face, and a gray dawn breaking.

    I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
    Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
    And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
    And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

    I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
    To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
    And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
    And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

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  11. 9. Winter Morning Poem

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    This famous poem by Ogden Nash uses descriptive language to show the beauty of snow. Winter is unlike any other season where snow blankets everything it touches. It transforms the land into a magical experience. Ogden Nash (1902-1971) was well-known and appreciated during his lifetime.

    Winter is the king of showmen,
    Turning tree stumps into snow men
    And houses into birthday cakes
    And spreading sugar over lakes.
    Smooth and clean and frosty white,
    The world looks good enough to bite.
    That's the season to be young,
    Catching snowflakes on your tongue!
    Snow is snowy when it's snowing.
    I'm sorry it's slushy when it's going.

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  12. 10. The Music Of The Trees

    • By Charles A. Heath

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    "The Music of the Trees" by Charles A. Heath celebrates the captivating symphony created by the rustling leaves in the forest. It portrays the trees as a musical band, with the wind as the conductor, orchestrating a composition that soothes and comforts. The poem emphasizes the accessibility and beauty of nature's melodies, as even a child can appreciate their meaning. The sounds of the rustling leaves serve as a source of solace and escape, transporting listeners from the troubles of the world. The poem invites readers to pause, listen, and find joy in the harmonies of the natural world, reminding us of the restorative power of nature's music.

    How I love to hear the rustle of the leaves upon the trees
    When the foliage of summer is a moving in the breeze
    When the oak and beech and maple are a tuning up the air
    As they hear the quaking aspen sending signals everywhere.

    The deciduous forest people are a music making band
    With their symphonies so simple that a child can understand
    For there's meaning in their rhythm and a pleasure 'mong the trees
    When the wind is blowing through them and a stirring all the leaves.

    There's an overture in whispers which is soothing to the ear
    Then a chorus full of comfort just a chasing out your fear
    As the louder it is sounding and the louder yet again
    Till at last are joys abounding when it falls in sweet refrain.

    Yes, it brings you heaps of solace when the wind is blowing soft
    In a lullaby of nature which will bear you way aloft
    Till you leave this world of trouble with its fretting and its care
    As you listen to the rustle of the leaves a playing there.

    O, I love to stop and hearken to the music of the trees
    As the wind is soughing through them or a playing with the leaves
    There's a harmony that holds you in the noises of the wood
    Where I never tire of listening for it does a fellow good.

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  13. 11. The End Of The Summer

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    Ella Wheeler Wilcox's "The End of the Summer" beautifully portrays the transition from summer to autumn through vivid imagery and personification. The birds celebrate the arrival of cooler weather, while nature's secrets unfold and the landscape transforms with vibrant colors. As the season progresses, the woods lose their glory, and the birds prepare to migrate southward. The poem concludes with a longing for the lively city. Wilcox's use of imagery creates a poignant reflection on the changing seasons and the fleeting beauty of nature.

    The birds laugh loud and long together
        When Fashion's followers speed away
    At the first cool breath of autumn weather.
        Why, this is the time, cry the birds, to stay!
    When the deep calm sea and the deep sky over
        Both look their passion through sun-kissed space,
    As a blue-eyed maid and her blue-eyed lover
        Might each gaze into the other's face.

    Oh! this is the time when careful spying
        Discovers the secrets Nature knows.
    You find when the butterflies plan for flying
        (Before the thrush or the blackbird goes),
    You see some day by the water's edges
        A brilliant border of red and black;
    And then off over the hills and hedges
        It flutters away on the summer's track.

    The shy little sumacs, in lonely places,
        Bowed all summer with dust and heat,
    Like clean-clad children with rain-washed faces,
        Are dressed in scarlet from head to feet.
    And never a flower had the boastful summer,
        In all the blossoms that decked her sod,
    So royal hued as that later comer
        The purple chum of the goldenrod.

    Some chill grey dawn you note with grieving
        That the King of Autumn is on his way.
    You see, with a sorrowful, slow believing,
        How the wanton woods have gone astray,
    They wear the stain of bold caresses,
        Of riotous revels with old King Frost;
    They dazzle all eyes with their gorgeous dresses,
        Nor care that their green young leaves are lost.

    A wet wind blows from the East one morning,
        The wood's gay garments looked draggled out.
    You hear a sound, and your heart takes warning―
        The birds are planning their winter route.
    They wheel and settle and scold and wrangle,
        Their tempers are ruffled, their voices loud;
    Then whirr and away in a feathered tangle,
        To fade in the south like a passing cloud.

                Envoi
    A songless wood stripped bare of glory―
        A sodden moor that is black and brown;
    The year has finished its last love-story:
        Oh! let us away to the gay bright town.

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  14. 12. The Woodpecker

    • By Elizabeth Madox Roberts

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    "The Woodpecker" by Elizabeth Madox Roberts whimsically explores the crafty home-making of a woodpecker. The poem, with its delightful rhymes, captures the charming image of a woodpecker snugly residing in a telephone pole, ready to weather the storms in its cozy abode.

    The woodpecker pecked out a little round hole
    And made him a house in the telephone pole.

    One day when I watched he poked out his head,
    And he had on a hood and a collar of red.

    When the streams of rain pour out of the sky,
    And the sparkles of lightning go flashing by,

    And the big, big wheels of thunder roll,
    He can snuggle back in the telephone pole.

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  15. 13. The Wind And The Leaves

    • By George Cooper

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    In "The Wind and the Leaves" by George Cooper (1840-1927), the wind's playful call beckons the leaves to embrace the changing season, marking the transition from vibrant summer to the chill of fall. The poem weaves personification and vivid imagery to give life to the leaves, as they respond to the wind's invitation with a colorful dance and songs. Amidst their joyful play, they bid farewell to their fellow creatures, embodying a sense of camaraderie and interconnectedness with nature. The poem captures the cyclical nature of life as the leaves eventually succumb to their winter slumber, covered by a blanket of snow, symbolizing the rhythm of renewal and rest in the natural world.

    "Come, little leaves," said the wind one day.
    "Come o'er the meadows with me, and play'
    Put on your dress of red and gold,—
    Summer is gone, and the days grow cold."

    Soon as the leaves heard the wind's loud call,
    Down they came fluttering, one and all;
    Over the brown fields they danced and flew,
    Singing the soft little songs they knew.

    "Cricket, good-by, we've been friends so long;
    Little brook, sing us your farewell song,—
    Say you are sorry to see us go;
    Ah! you will miss us, right well we know."

    "Dear little lambs, in your fleecy fold,
    Mother will keep you from harm and cold;
    Fondly we've watched you in vale and glade;
    Say, will you dream of our loving shade?"

    Dancing and whirling, the little leaves went;
    Winter had called them, and they were content.
    Soon fast asleep in their earthy beds,
    The snow laid a coverlet over their heads.

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  16. 14. The Brook

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    The Industrial Revolution took place in Great Britain during the late 1700s and early 1800s. As cities grew, living conditions deteriorated for the poor and working class. Factories and mass production were beneficial for some but not everyone. This poem stands in contrast of new manufacturing processes of that time period by focusing on nature. The narrator in this poem, the brook, is personified. The brook shows persistence by continuing to flow, no matter what obstacles get in its way. The repeated lines, “For men may come and men may go, but I go on for ever,” showcase that. Famous poet Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) was named Poet Laureate in Great Britain and Ireland.

    I come from haunts of coot and hern,
       I make a sudden sally
    And sparkle out among the fern,
       To bicker down a valley.

    By thirty hills I hurry down,
       Or slip between the ridges,
    By twenty thorpes, a little town,
       And half a hundred bridges.

    Till last by Philip's farm I flow
       To join the brimming river,
    For men may come and men may go,
       But I go on for ever.

    I chatter over stony ways,
       In little sharps and trebles,
    I bubble into eddying bays,
       I babble on the pebbles.

    With many a curve my banks I fret
       By many a field and fallow,
    And many a fairy foreland set
       With willow-weed and mallow.

    I chatter, chatter, as I flow
       To join the brimming river,
    For men may come and men may go,
       But I go on for ever.

    I wind about, and in and out,
       With here a blossom sailing,
    And here and there a lusty trout,
       And here and there a grayling,

    And here and there a foamy flake
       Upon me, as I travel
    With many a silvery waterbreak
       Above the golden gravel,

    And draw them all along, and flow
       To join the brimming river
    For men may come and men may go,
       But I go on for ever.

    I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
       I slide by hazel covers;
    I move the sweet forget-me-nots
       That grow for happy lovers.

    I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
       Among my skimming swallows;
    I make the netted sunbeam dance
       Against my sandy shallows.

    I murmur under moon and stars
       In brambly wildernesses;
    I linger by my shingly bars;
       I loiter round my cresses;

    And out again I curve and flow
       To join the brimming river,
    For men may come and men may go,
       But I go on for ever.

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  17. 15. Snow-Flakes

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    Snow-Flakes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is a beautiful description of the way snow falls from the sky and covers the landscape. The snowflakes are described as silent, soft, and slow, creating a sense of stillness and peace. The comparison between the way snowflakes take shape in the air and the way our thoughts take shape in our minds suggests a connection between the natural world and our inner world. The final stanza suggests that there is something deeply meaningful about the snowflakes and the way they reveal the secret of despair.

    Out of the bosom of the Air,
        Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
    Over the woodlands brown and bare,
        Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
            Silent, and soft, and slow
            Descends the snow.

    Even as our cloudy fancies take
        Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
    Even as the troubled heart doth make
        In the white countenance confession,
            The troubled sky reveals
            The grief it feels.

    This is the poem of the air,
        Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
    This is the secret of despair,
        Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
            Now whispered and revealed
            To wood and field.

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  18. 16. The Glory Of The Garden

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    The Glory Of The Garden By Rudyard Kipling was first published in A School History of England (1911).

    Our England is a garden that is full of stately views,
    Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues,
    With statues on the terraces and peacocks strutting by;
    But the Glory of the Garden lies in more than meets the eye.

    For where the old thick laurels grow, along the thin red wall,
    You'll find the tool- and potting-sheds which are the heart of all
    The cold-frames and the hot-houses, the dung-pits and the tanks,
    The rollers, carts, and drain-pipes, with the barrows and the planks.

    And there you'll see the gardeners, the men and 'prentice boys
    Told off to do as they are bid and do it without noise ;
    For, except when seeds are planted and we shout to scare the birds,
    The Glory of the Garden it abideth not in words.

    And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose,
    And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows ;
    But they can roll and trim the lawns and sift the sand and loam,
    For the Glory of the Garden occupieth all who come.

    Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made
    By singing, "Oh, how beautiful," and sitting in the shade
    While better men than we go out and start their working lives
    At grubbing weeds from gravel-paths with broken dinner-knives.

    There's not a pair of legs so thin, there's not a head so thick,
    There's not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick
    But it can find some needful job that's crying to be done,
    For the Glory of the Garden glorifieth every one.

    Then seek your job with thankfulness and work till further orders,
    If it's only netting strawberries or killing slugs on borders;
    And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden,
    You will find yourself a partner In the Glory of the Garden.

    Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him sees
    That half a proper gardener's work is done upon his knees,
    So when your work is finished, you can wash your hands and pray
    For the Glory of the Garden that it may not pass away!

    And the Glory of the Garden it shall never pass away!

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  19. 17. Music

    Famous Poem

    Bessie Rayner Parkes lived from 1829-1925. She was an English feminist who became an editor of the Britain's first feminist magazine. This poem showcases how nature creates a concert for anyone who stops to listen.

    Sweet melody amidst the moving spheres
    Breaks forth, a solemn and entrancing sound,
    A harmony whereof the earth's green hills
    Give but the faintest echo; yet is there
    A music everywhere, and concert sweet!
    All birds which sing amidst the forest deep
    Till the flowers listen with unfolded bells;
    All winds that murmur over summer grass,
    Or curl the waves upon the pebbly shore;
    Chiefly all earnest human voices rais'd
    In charity and for the cause of truth,
    Mingle together in one sacred chord,
    And float, a grateful incense, up to God.

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  20. 18. The Sandpiper

    • By Celia Thaxter

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    "The Sandpiper" by Celia Thaxter (1835-1894) portrays the companionship between the narrator and a sandpiper bird as they navigate a lonely beach. The poem captures the dynamic and ever-changing coastal environment, with vivid descriptions of the waves, wind, and vessels at sea. The sandpiper symbolizes resilience and fearlessness, contrasting the human narrator's anxieties. The bond between the two is portrayed as unyielding and mutually comforting, emphasizing their shared existence as creatures of God.

    Across the lonely beach we flit,
        One little sandpiper and I,
    And fast I gather, bit by bit,
        The scattered driftwood, bleached and dry.
    The wild waves reach their hands for it,
        The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,
    As up and down the beach we flit,
        One little sandpiper and I.

    Above our heads the sullen clouds
        Scud, black and swift, across the sky;
    Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds
        Stand out the white lighthouses high.
    Almost as far as eye can reach
        I see the close-reefed vessels fly,
    As fast we flit along the beach,
        One little sandpiper and I.

    I watch him as he skims along,
        Uttering his sweet and mournful cry;
    He starts not at my fitful song,
        Nor flash of fluttering drapery.
    He has no thought of any wrong,
        He scans me with a fearless eye;
    Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong,
        The little sandpiper and I.

    Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night,
        When the loosed storm breaks furiously?
    My driftwood fire will burn so bright!
        To what warm shelter canst thou fly?
    I do not fear for thee, though wroth
        The tempest rushes through the sky;
    For are we not God's children both,
        Thou, little sandpiper, and I?

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  21. 19. A Day Of Sunshine

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    Sunny days have a way of making us feel fantastic. We want to take full advantage of what the day has to offer. Famous poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) captures the beauty and desire to enjoy nature on a sunny day. Sunny days can make it hard to focus on work because one would rather be outside enjoying the majesty of the natural world. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was a prolific writer of prose and poetry. After graduating from college, he studied languages in Europe before becoming a college professor at Bowdoin, his alma mater, and later at Harvard.

    O gift of God! O perfect day:
    Whereon shall no man work, but play;
    Whereon it is enough for me,
    Not to be doing, but to be!

    Through every fibre of my brain,
    Through every nerve, through every vein,
    I feel the electric thrill, the touch
    Of life, that seems almost too much.

    I hear the wind among the trees
    Playing celestial symphonies;
    I see the branches downward bent,
    Like keys of some great instrument.

    And over me unrolls on high
    The splendid scenery of the sky,
    Where though a sapphire sea the sun
    Sails like a golden galleon,

    Towards yonder cloud-land in the West,
    Towards yonder Islands of the Blest,
    Whose steep sierra far uplifts
    Its craggy summits white with drifts.

    Blow, winds! and waft through all the rooms
    The snow-flakes of the cherry-blooms!
    Blow, winds! and bend within my reach
    The fiery blossoms of the peach!

    O Life and Love! O happy throng
    Of thoughts, whose only speech is song!
    O heart of man! canst thou not be
    Blithe as the air is, and as free?

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  22. 20. February Twilight

    Famous Poem

    Sara Teasdale (1884-1933) became a famous poet during her lifetime. In “February Twilight,” she captures the beauty and peacefulness of standing alone in nature.

    I stood beside a hill
    Smooth with new-laid snow,
    A single star looked out
    From the cold evening glow.

    There was no other creature
    That saw what I could see—
    I stood and watched the evening star
    As long as it watched me.

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    It gives me a certain joy to be in a place in the forest or a shore or anywhere in nature and imagine that I'm the only person who has ever been in that exact spot. As a young boy, I would...

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