Francis Jammes Poems
|1.||Summer Of Roses||11/8/2012|
|2.||In The Foliage||11/8/2012|
|3.||You Would Be Naked||11/8/2012|
|4.||The Farmer's Daughter||11/8/2012|
|6.||By The Yawning Door||11/8/2012|
|7.||There Are Days In June||11/8/2012|
|8.||With Feet At The Fire||11/8/2012|
|9.||The Old Village||11/8/2012|
|11.||Madame De Warens||11/8/2012|
|13.||I Love ...||11/8/2012|
|14.||Prayer To Go To Paradise With The Asses||11/8/2012|
|15.||The Forest Paths||11/8/2012|
|16.||The Dead Child||11/8/2012|
|17.||Do Not Console Me||11/8/2012|
|18.||You Come When The Sun Sinks Low||11/8/2012|
|19.||The Cricket's Song||11/8/2012|
|20.||It Is Going To Snow||11/8/2012|
It Is Going To Snow
It is going to snow in a few days. I remember
This time last year. My heart, O how it bled!
Had I been asked: 'What ails thee?' I should have said:
'Nothing. Leave me alone. It is December.'
O those bad thoughts! I had no good of them,
This time last year when heavy snow was cloaking
The world outside. And now as then I am smoking
A pipe of briar-wood with an amber stem.
And still my old oak chest of drawers smells good.
But I was foolish, for these things can never
Be changed, and they do only pose as clever
Who drives away the things bred in their ...
The Cricket's Song
Last night the cricket sang when all was still.
I cannot tell you what he sang about.
His singing made the darkness thicker still.
The sad flame of my candle lengthened out.
Well, in the end I had to go to bed,
Telling myself with heavy heart that I
Should ne'er be happier than in days gone by,
And that this song was I, and nothing else.