Archibald Lampman: Всі вірші поета

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Winter

The long days came and went; the riotous bees

Tore the warm grapes in many a dusty vine,

And men grew faint and thin with too much ease,

And Winter gave no sign:

But all the while beyond the northmost woods

He sat and smiled and watched his spirits play

In elfish dance and eery roundelay,

Tripping in many moods

Archibald Lampman

Spring On The River

O sun, shine hot on the river;

For the ice is turning an ashen hue,

And the still bright water is looking through,

And the myriad streams are greeting you

With a ballad of life to the giver,

From forest and field and sunny town,

Meeting and running and tripping down,

With laughter and song to the river.

Archibald Lampman

June

Long, long ago, it seems, this summer morn

That pale-browed April passed with pensive tread

Through the frore woods, and from its frost-bound bed

Woke the arbutus with her silver horn;

And now May, too, is fled,

The flower-crowned month, the merry laughing May,

With rosy feet and fingers dewy wet,

Leaving the woods and all cool gardens gay

Archibald Lampman

Forest Moods

There is singing of birds in the deep wet woods,

In the heart of the listening solitudes,

Pewees, and thrushes, and sparrows, not few,

And all the notes of their throats are true.

The thrush from the innermost ash takes on

A tender dream of the treasured and gone;

But the sparrow singeth with pride and cheer

Of the might and light of the present and here.

Archibald Lampman

With The Night

O doubts, dull passions, and base fears,

That harassed and oppressed the day,

Ye poor remorses and vain tears,

That shook this house of clay:

All heaven to the western bars

Is glittering with the darker dawn;

Here with the earth, the night, the stars,

Ye have no place: begone!

Archibald Lampman

A Niagara Landscape

Heavy with haze that merges and melts free

Into the measureless depth on either hand,

The full day rests upon the luminous land

In one long noon of golden reverie.

Now hath the harvest come and gone with glee.

The shaven fields stretch smooth and clean away,

Purple and green, and yellow, and soft gray,

Chequered with orchards. Farther still I see

Archibald Lampman

At The Ferry

On such a day the shrunken stream

Spends its last water and runs dry;

Clouds like far turrets in a dream

Stand baseless in the burning sky.

On such a day at every rod

The toilers in the hay-field halt,

With dripping brows, and the parched sod

Yields to the crushing foot like salt.

Archibald Lampman

The Sun Cup

The earth is the cup of the sun,

That he filleth at morning with wine,

With the warm, strong wine of his might

From the vintage of gold and of light,

Fills it, and makes it divine.

And at night when his journey is done,

At the gate of his radiant hall,

He setteth his lips to the brim,

Archibald Lampman

Between The Rapids

The point is turned; the twilight shadow fills

The wheeling stream, the soft receding shore,

And on our ears from deep among the hills

Breaks now the rapid's sudden quickening roar.

Ah yet the same, or have they changed their face,

The fair green fields, and can it still be seen,

The white log cottage near the mountain's base,

So bright and quiet, so home-like and serene?

Archibald Lampman

Distance

To the distance! Ah, the distance!

Blue and broad and dim!

Peace is not in burgh or meadow,

But beyond the rim.

Aye, beyond it, far beyond it;

Follow still my soul,

Till this earth is lost in heaven,

And thou feel'st the whole.

Archibald Lampman

A Prayer

Oh earth, oh dewy mother, breathe on us

Something of all thy beauty and thy might,

Us that are part of day, but most of night,

Not strong like thee, but ever burdened thus

With glooms and cares, things pale and dolorous

Whose gladest moments are not wholly bright;

Something of all they freshness and thy light,

Oh earth, oh mighty mother, breathe on us.

Archibald Lampman

The Sweetness of Life

It fell on a day I was happy,

And the winds, the concave sky,

The flowers and the beasts in the meadow

Seemed happy even as I;

And I stretched my hands to the meadow,

To the bird, the beast, the tree:

"Why are ye all so happy?"

I cried, and they answered me.

Archibald Lampman