Best Weather Poems

Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.
...

A process in the weather of the heart
Turns damp to dry; the golden shot
Storms in the freezing tomb.
A weather in the quarter of the veins
...

Every old man I see
Reminds me of my father
When he had fallen in love with death
One time when sheaves were gathered.
...

The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,
...

The Breath Of Life
To smell The Sun
to feel The Wind
to breathe the Fresh Air from within
...

I didn't go to church today,
I trust the Lord to understand.
The surf was swirling blue and white,
The children swirling on the sand.
...

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
...

Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
...

The gates are chained, the barbed-wire fencing stands,
An iron authority against the snow,
And this grey monument to common sense
Resists the weather. Fears of idle hands,
...

Here on the Hard, you're welcome to pull up and stay;
there's a flat fee of a quid for parking all day.

And wandering over the dunes, who wouldn't die
...

I.
The golden gates of Sleep unbar
Where Strength and Beauty, met together,
Kindle their image like a star
...

The truth is dark under your eyelids.
What are you going to do about it?
The birds are silent; there's no one to ask.
All day long you'll squint at the gray sky.
...

The walls have come out of doors
Narrows are the passages, many are the footprints
On the steep rock where the sun lies half reclined
Jumping over one's shadow, falling headlong
...

Words paint a fragile picture of the dusk.
I think them to a poet far away.
The light shines dim upon my windowpane.
A few tears fall like blue rain in the mind.
...

The mountain and the squirrel
Had a quarrel;
And the former called the latter "Little Prig."
Bun replied,
...

I--The Tragedy

She sits in the tawny vapour
   That the City lanes have uprolled,
...

In the blue sky just a few specks of gray
In the evening of a beautiful day
Though last night it rained and more rain on the way
And that more rain is needed 'twould be fair to say
...

O suns and skies and clouds of June,
And flowers of June together,
Ye cannot rival for one hour
October's bright blue weather;
...

When we were girl and boy together,
We toss'd about the flowers
And wreath'd the blushing hours
Into a posy green and sweet.
...

We plucked a red rose, you and I
All in the summer weather;
Sweet its perfume and rare its bloom,
Enjoyed by us together.
...

Old year has passed with last night,
New year has arrived with shiny light.
Brightness is covered all over sky,
Weather has opened her twinkled eye.
...

When the beautiful morning comes
The rays of rising sun kiss her
When the garden of nature open its heart
The garden of flowers hugs her to welcome
...

The difference between you and her
(whom I to you did once prefer)
Is clear enough to settle:
She like a diamond shone, but you
...

You do not always know what I am feeling.
Last night in the warm spring air while I was
blazing my tirade against someone who doesn't
interest
...

'I wouldn't like to be in your shoes',
This woman contemptuously said,
What's the matter with my shoes,
They've stood me in good stead.
...

The fisherman's swapping a yarn for a yarn
Under the hand of the village barber,
And her in the angle of house and barn
His deep-sea dory has found a harbor.
...

Now's the time when children's noses
All become as red as roses
And the colour of their faces
Makes me think of orchard places
...

There was an old person of Nice,
Whose associates were usually Geese.
...

He turned to me with his kind, sleepy gaze
And fresh face slowly brightening to the grin
That sets my memory back to summer days,
With twenty runs to make, and last man in.
...

All day and night, save winter, every weather,
Above the inn, the smithy and the shop,
The aspens at the cross-roads talk together
Of rain, until their last leaves fall from the top.
...

Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing,
Three of us abroad in the basket on the lea.
Winds are in the air, they are blowing in the spring,
And waves are on the meadow like the waves there are at sea.
...

Beauty is the sensation of your heart skipping a beat,
when eyes full of mischief glance at you...
Beauty is the smile which appears on your lips, when you think of the way he smiles at you...
Beauty is in the heart which touches another
...

The days will rally, wreathing
Their crazy tarantelle;
And you must go on breathing,
But I'll be safe in hell.
...

Evans? Yes, many a time
I came down his bare flight
Of stairs into the gaunt kitchen
With its wood fire, where crickets sang
...

Why are Winter's dull days, so depressing,
And if it's cold as well, very distressing.
Especially, if it's damp,
It gives one's joints the cramp,
...

Walls of stone and walls of brick,
Some walls thin and some walls thick,
Walls so high and walls so low,
Walls to hide and walls to show.
...

AH! dear one, we were young so long,
It seemed that youth would never go,
For skies and trees were ever in song
And water in singing flow
...

Before you thought of spring,
Except as a surmise,
You see, God bless his suddenness,
A fellow in the skies
Of independent hues,
...

Out upon it, I have lov'd
Three whole days together;
And am like to love three more,
If it prove fair weather.
...

We embrace.
Rich cloth under my fingers
While yours touch poor fabric.
A quick embrace
...

Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove,
The linnet, and thrush say, 'I love and I love!'
...

An old man whose black face
shines golden-brown as wet pebbles
under the streetlamp, is walking two mongrel dogs of dis-
proportionate size, in the rain,
...

My heart is like a little bird
That sits and sings for very gladness.
Sorrow is some forgotten word,
And so, except in rhyme, is sadness.
...

There is May in books forever;
May will part from Spenser never;
May's in Milton, May's in Prior,
May's in Chaucer, Thomson, Dyer;
...

A lot of us were on the bark:
Some framed a sail for windy weather,
The others strongly and together
Moved oars. In silence sunk,
...

We laugh at the same funny things,
Our quick sense of humour just springs
From being together,
Whatever the weather,
...

Light has exposed the landscape to its form.
Mood is rebuked of all its artifice.
Wind moves like winter through the naked trees.
I ask you for a leaf, but there is none.
...

Good day to thee my worthless friend, I see you've shown your full intent
While others rally to defend, no one knows where you went
Hello to thee my part time chum, I see you fled the dragons lair
While former friends die one by one, they turn for help but you're not there
...

The voices of hope......
Screaming for lives..
Were not fulfilled
The truth is
...

Here take my picture; though I bid farewell
Thine, in my heart, where my soul dwells, shall dwell.
'Tis like me now, but I dead, 'twill be more
When we are shadows both, than 'twas before
...

I AM worn out with dreams;
A weather-worn, marble triton
Among the streams;
...

The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,
...

Sensing death,
The buzzards gather —
Noting the last struggle
Of flesh under weather,
...

Birds' love and birds' song
Flying here and there,
Birds' songand birds' love
And you with gold for hair!
...

Never the time and the place
And the loved one all together!
This path--how soft to pace!
This May -- what magic weather!
...

Oh, I have tried to laugh the pain away,
Let new flames brush my love-springs like a feather.
But the old fever seizes me to-day,
As sickness grips a soul in wretched weather.
...

There is nothing quite like life
In cheerful time it is life
In sorrowful time it is life
When the weather's bright it is life
...

Comes autumn, follows fall,
Brown leaves begin to fall,
And when it snows in winter,
Trees look like skeletons that can't stir.
...

Light hearted William twirled
his November moustaches
and, half dressed, looked
from the bedroom window
...

One day you brought me raindrops in your hand.
'Here are some precious tears for you', you said.
A shadow bird was winging through the sky.
His silhouette escaped my finger tips.
...

I dive down into the depth of the ocean of forms,
hoping to gain the perfect pearl of the formless.

No more sailing from harbor to harbor with this my weather-beaten boat.
...

This is the weather the cuckoo likes,
And so do I;
When showers betumble the chestnut spikes,
And nestlings fly;
...

When summer evenings are nice and hot,
The thing to do is find a spot,
Where a barbecue can be set up,
So everyone can come and sup,
...

O I will walk with you, my lad, whichever way you fare,
You'll have me, too, the side o' you, with heart as light as air;
No care for where the road you take's a-leadin' anywhere,--
It can but be a joyful ja'nt whilst you journey there.
...

Gray drops paint charcoal shadows on the skin.
They wear the windowpanes of old souls thin.
Hold out your hand against the falling light.
Believe with me that rain is infinite.
...

When I behold how black, immortal ink
Drips from my deathless pen - ah, well-away!
Why should we stop at all for what I think?
There is enough in what I chance to say.
...

COMING down the mountain road
Light of heart and all alone,
I caught from every rill that flowed
A rapture of its own.
...

Shepherds go whistling on their way
In the spring season of the year;
One watches weather-signs of day;
One of his maid most dear
...

If only I could fly
And soar up so high
I want to touch the sky so blue
But it never came true
...

If I were king, my pipe should be premier.
The skies of time and chance are seldom clear,
We would inform them all with bland blue weather.
Delight alone would need to shed a tear,
...

Cold sunshine writes our elegy in frost,
Author of light a million snowflakes lost,
All gone forever into swirling air,
A dance of death that is no longer there.
...

Look, how those steep woods on the mountain's face
Burn, burn against the sunset; now the cold
Invades our very noon: the year's grown old,
Mornings are dark, and evenings come apace.
...

You're only held together by me
whirling on my wheel of gravity;
alive you suck the air
for any nipple of moisture, dead
...

For an old friend, my sentiments without apology

I send a song of Appalachian rain,
As soothing as an old tin roof's refrain,
...

It isn't the foe that we fear;
It isn't the bullets that whine;
It isn't the business career
Of a shell, or the bust of a mine;
...

It is the sinners' dust-tongued bell claps me to churches
When, with his torch and hourglass, like a sulpher priest,
...

We were always together
as much as weather

was
...

Oh the changing of the seasons it's a pretty thing to see
And though I find this balmy weather pleasin'
...

The air is full of after-thunder freshness,
And everything rejoices and revives.
With the whole outburst of its purple clusters
...

skin seems roasted by scorching rays
sky is burning by heat of summer
sultry weather remembers autumn’s flow
anger never reels through by fear of love.
...

An Ancient gaffer once I knew,
Who puffed a pipe and tossed a tankard;
He claimed a hundred years or two,
And for a dozen more he hankered;
...

Mary sat in the corner dreaming,
Dim was the room and low,
While in the dusk, the saw went screaming
To and fro.
...

Mindful of you the sodden earth in spring,
And all the flowers that in the springtime grow,
And dusty roads, and thistles, and the slow
Rising of the round moon, all throats that sing
...

I Love this white and slender body,
These limbs that answer Love's caresses,
Passionate eyes, and forehead covered
...

There is a God of red leaves and of dying.
He traced dark landscapes on my window pane.
Spare and beautiful the sound of crying
Libations of black coffee, drops of rain.
...

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I roved to the woods, on my back I lay,
In cradle of fancy rolled me;
...

Winter! Oh dear our sweet winter,
You are our only lovely time hinter.
We wait for you again waking soon,
Sun rays fall we do get warm boon.
...

...

Home is pictures of memories on the wall.
Home is sleeping in my own bed.
Home is waking up to the smell of mom's cooking.
Home is sharing the holidays with family.
...

dear lost father
im writting you this letter,
its me your son
the one you left in the stormy weather,
...

The tree reaches out,
For the sun's lovely rays
And leans into them,
For their warmth.
...

The bare eyes of old houses crack with sorrow,
Because the sun will rise again tomorrow.
Of all who pass by there is no dissenter,
No mood exists upon this street but winter.
...

DANCING DROPS


I did not want it that,
...

An oak tree and a rosebush grew,
Young and green together,
Talking the talk of growing things-
...

Out of the window a sea of green trees
   Lift their soft boughs like the arms of a dancer;
They beckon and call me, "Come out in the sun!"
   But I cannot answer.
...

The old grandpa of the house
sat in the courtyard of the house
that old house's open courtyard
with slant tiled roof on all four side
...

The glorying forest shakes and swings with glancing
Of boughs that dip and strain; young, slanting sprays
Beckon and shift like lissom creatures dancing,
While the blown beechwood streams with drifting rays.
...

This little house sows the degrees
By which wood can return to trees.

Weather has stained the shingles dark
...

NEVER weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore,
Never tired pilgrim's limbs affected slumber more,
Than my wearied sprite now longs to fly out of my troubled breast:
O come quickly, sweetest Lord, and take my soul to rest!
...

Mindful of you the sodden earth in spring,
And all the flowers that in the springtime grow,
And dusty roads, and thistles, and the slow
Rising of the round moon, all throats that sing
...