The Monk (Archibald Lampman Poems)
IIn Nino's chamber not a sound intrudesUpon the midnight's tingling silentness,Where Nino sits before his book and broods,Thin and brow-burdened ...
IIn Nino's chamber not a sound intrudesUpon the midnight's tingling silentness,Where Nino sits before his book and broods,Thin and brow-burdened ...
Subtly conscious, all awake,Let us clear our eyes, and breakThrough the cloudy chrysalis,See the wonder as it is.Down a narrow ...
Hear me, Brother, gently met;Just a little, turn, not yet,Thou shalt laugh, and soon forget:Now the midnight draweth near.I have ...
What would'st thou have for easement after grief, When the rude world hath used thee with despite, And care sits at thine elbow day and night, Filching thy pleasures like a subtle thief? To me, when life besets me in such wise, 'Tis sweetest to break forth, to drop the chain, And grasp the freedom of this pleasant earth, To roam in idleness and sober mirth, Through summer airs and summer lands, and drain The comfort of wide fields unto tired eyes. By hills and waters, farms and solitudes, To wander by the day with wilful feet; Through fielded valleys wide with yellowing wheat; Along gray roads that run between deep woods, Murmurous and cool; through hallowed slopes of pine, Where the long daylight dreams, unpierced, unstirred, And only the rich-throated thrush is heard; By lonely forest brooks that froth and shine In bouldered crannies buried in the hills; By broken beeches tangled with wild vine, And long-strewn rivers murmurous with mills. In upland pastures, sown with gold, and sweet With the keen perfume of the ripening grass, Where wings of birds and filmy shadows pass, Spread thick as stars with shining marguerite: To haunt old fences overgrown with brier, Muffled in vines, and hawthorns, and wild cherries, Rank poisonous ivies, red-bunched elder-berries, And pièd blossoms to the heart's desire, Gray mullein towering into yellow bloom, Pink-tasseled milkweed, breathing dense perfume, And swarthy vervain, tipped with violet fire. To hear at eve the bleating of far flocks, The mud-hen's whistle from the marsh at morn; To skirt with deafened ears and brain o'erborne Some foam-filled rapid charging down its rocks With iron roar of waters; far away Across wide-reeded meres, pensive with noon, To hear the querulous outcry of the loon; To lie among deep rocks, and watch all day On liquid heights the snowy clouds melt by; Or hear from wood-capped mountain-brows the jay Pierce the bright morning with his jibing cry. To feast on summer sounds; the jolted wains, The thresher humming from the farm near by, The prattling cricket's intermittent cry, The locust's rattle from the sultry lanes; Or in the shadow of some oaken spray, To watch, as through a mist of light and dreams, The far-off hayfields, where the dusty teams Drive round and round the lessening squares of hay, And hear upon the wind, now loud, now low, With drowsy cadence half a summer's day, The clatter of the reapers come and go. Far violet hills, horizons filmed with showers, The murmur of cool streams, the forest's gloom, The voices of the breathing grass, the hum Of ancient gardens overbanked with flowers: Thus, with a smile as golden as the dawn, And cool fair fingers radiantly divine, The mighty mother brings us in her hand, For all tired eyes and foreheads pinched and wan, Her restful cup, her beaker of bright wine: Drink, and be filled, and ye shall understand!(Archibald Lampman)
Now hath the summer reached her golden close,And, lost amid her corn-fields, bright of soul,Scarcely perceives from her divine reposeHow ...
Long, long ago, it seems, this summer mornThat pale-browed April passed with pensive treadThrough the frore woods, and from its ...
Here when the cloudless April days begin,And the quaint crows flock thicker day by day,Filling the forests with a pleasant ...
The point is turned; the twilight shadow fillsThe wheeling stream, the soft receding shore,And on our ears from deep among ...
Underneath a tree at noontideAbu Midjan sits distressed,Fetters on his wrists and ancles,And his chin upon his breast;For the Emir's ...
Why weep ye in your innocent toil at all?Sweet little hands, why halt and tremble so?Full many a wrong note ...
Now the creeping nets of sleepStretch about and gather nigh,And the midnight dim and deepLike a spirit passes by,Trailing from ...
If any man, with sleepless care oppressed,On many a night had risen, and addressedHis hand to make him out of ...
The full, clear moon uprose and spreadHer cold, pale splendor o'er the sea;A light-strewn path that seemed to leadOutward into ...
Along the waste, a great way off, the pines,Like tall slim priests of storm, stand up and barThe low long ...
Once on the year's last eve in my mind's mightSitting in dreams, not sad, nor quite elysian,Balancing all 'twixt wonder ...
Grief was my master yesternight;To-morrow I may grieve again;But now along the windy plainThe clouds have taken flight.The sowers in ...
I passed through the gates of the city,The streets were strange and still,Through the doors of the open churchesThe organs ...
Now overhead,Where the rivulet loiters and stops,The bittersweet hangs from the topsOf the alders and cherriesIts bunches of beautiful berries,Orange ...
Not to be conquered by these headlong days, But to stand free: to keep the mind at ...
The darkness brings no quiet here, the light No waking: ever on my blinded brain The flare ...
The leafless forests slowly yield To the thick-driving snow. A little while And night shall ...
We in sorrow coldly witting,In the bleak world sitting, sitting,By the forest, near the mould,Heard the summer calling, calling,Through the ...
The thoughts of all the maples who shall name,When the sad landscape turns to cold and grey?Yet some for very ...
Belov?d, those who moan of love's brief dayShall find but little grace with me, I guess,Who know too well this ...
Beloved, those who moan of love's brief dayShall find but little grace with me, I guess,Who know too well this ...
Move on, light hands, so strongly tenderly,Now with dropped calm and yearning undersong,Now swift and loud, tumultuously strong,And I in ...
Blind multitudes that jar confusedlyAt strife, earth's children, will ye never restFrom toils made hateful here, and dawns distressedWith ravelling ...
Or whether sad or joyous be her hours,Yet ever is she good and ever fair.If she be glad, 'tis like ...
Once ye were happy, once by many a shore,Wherever Glooscap's gentle feet might stray,Lulled by his presence like a dream, ...
Out of the Northland sombre weirds are calling;A shadow falleth southward day by day;Sad summers arms grow cold; his fire ...
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