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Search results for: meadows

Yee yee! We've found 640 poems matching meadows.

Sport In The Meadows
John Clare
Maytime is to the meadows coming in, And cowslip peeps have gotten eer so big, And water blobs and all their golden kin Crowd round the shallows by...Rate it:

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The Meadows In Spring
Edward Fitzgerald
soaring between; The spring is alive, And the meadows are green! I jump up, like mad, Break the olRate it:

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Dancing In The Meadows
Kurt Philip Behm
rhyme Our hopes and wishes dancing in the meadows Calling us to a new —and better time (Kanab UtRate it:

(5.00 / 1 vote)
Come From The Daisied Meadows
Robert Louis Stevenson
HOME from the daisied meadows, where you linger yet - Home, golden-headed playmate, ere the sun is set; For the dews are falling fast And the nigh...Rate it:

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Modern Love XI: Out in the Yellow Meadows
George Meredith
Out in the yellow meadows, where the bee Hums by us with the honey of the Spring, And showers of sweet notes from the larks on wing, Are droppin...Rate it:

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In The Meadows At Mantua
Arthur Symons
But to have lain upon the grass One perfect day, one perfect hour, Beholding all things mortal pass Into the quiet of green grass; But to have lai...Rate it:

(1.00 / 1 vote)
In Tuolumne Meadows
Harriet Monroe
I Love to sit in the sun And watch the foaming Lyell Leap over its granite bed. I love these days that run On a burnished golden dial With the b...Rate it:

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Robert Herrick
Ye have been fresh and green, Ye have been fill'd with flowers; And ye the walks have been Where maids have spent their hours. You have beheld how...Rate it:

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Spring Carol
Robert Louis Stevenson
the greenwood quires the thrush, With sun on the meadows And songs in the shadows Comes again to meRate it:

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Old Song
Edward Fitzgerald
between; The spring is alive, And the meadows are green! I jump up like mad, Break the oRate it:

(3.00 / 1 vote)
Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
of Grand-Pre Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward, Giving the villagRate it:

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Evangeline: Part The First. I.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
of Grand-Pré Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward, Giving the villageRate it:

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Evangeline: Part The First. IV.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
the bright air brighter, as up from the numerous meadows, Where no path could be seen but the trackRate it:

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Mathilde Blind
sheep go by, Go through heaven's sapphire meadows; While here on the earth's green meadows, deep InRate it:

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The Cry Of The Children
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows; The young birds are chirping in the nRate it:

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The Song Of Hiawatha XXI: The White Man's Foot
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
the landscape, Flowers spring up o'er all the meadows, Singing, onward rush the rivers!' 'When I shRate it:

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The Wreck Of Rivermouth
John Greenleaf Whittier
the river comes winding down, From salt sea-meadows and uplands brown, And waves on the outer rocksRate it:

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To Ulla
Carl Michael Bellman
'Ah yes!' 'And, seen where sunbeams play, The meadows' loveliness? Are they not heavenly--those briRate it:

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Introduction To The Song Of Hiawatha
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
odors of the forest With the dew and damp of meadows, With the curling smoke of wigwams, With the Rate it:

(4.00 / 2 votes)
A Dorset Idyl
Francis Turner Palgrave
fail! Or by the city of God above In rose-red meadows, where the day Eternal burns, the bless'd onRate it:

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A Pastoral Entertainment
James Thomson
western gale, Which in soft breezes through the meadows stray, And steals the ripened fragranciesRate it:

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Across The Door
Padraic Colum
across the door. Ah! strange were the dim, wide meadows, And strange was the cloud-strewn sky, AndRate it:

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Adam: A Sacred Drama. Act 3.
William Cowper
beauty of these plants, By these delightful meadows, These variegated flowers, By the soft music ofRate it:

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An Indian at the Burial-Place of his Fathers.
William Cullen Bryant
river-side; I know the shaggy hills about, The meadows smooth and wide,-- The plains, that, toward Rate it:

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Chains Invisible
Edith Nesbit
THE lilies in my garden grow, Wide meadows ring my garden round, In that green copse wild violets blow, And pale, frail cuckoo flowers are found...Rate it:

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