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 ...