Archibald Lampman

(17 November 1861 - 10 February 1899 / Morpeth, Ontario)

Archibald Lampman Poems

41. In May 4/8/2010
42. By An Autumn Stream 4/8/2010
43. White Pansies 4/8/2010
44. Why Do Ye Call The Poet Lonely 4/8/2010
45. To The Cricket 4/8/2010
46. Unrest 4/8/2010
47. The Meadow 4/8/2010
48. The Little Handmaiden 4/8/2010
49. The Moon-Path 4/8/2010
50. The Mystery Of A Year 4/8/2010
51. The Clearer Self 4/8/2010
52. The Dog 4/8/2010
53. Sunset 4/8/2010
54. Sapphics 4/8/2010
55. Peccavi, Domine 4/8/2010
56. The Martyrs 4/8/2010
57. To My Wife 4/8/2010
58. Ballade Of Summer's Sleep 4/8/2010
59. To My Daughter 4/8/2010
60. To My Mother 4/8/2010
61. On Lake Temiscamingue 4/8/2010
62. Aspiration 4/8/2010
63. Storm 1/1/2004
64. April Night 4/8/2010
65. Cloud-Break 4/8/2010
66. To The Ottawa 1/1/2004
67. Three Flower Petals 4/8/2010
68. The Song Sparrow 4/8/2010
69. Comfort Of The Fields 1/1/2004
70. April In The Hills 4/8/2010
71. To The Prophetic Soul 4/8/2010
72. God-Speed To The Snow 4/8/2010
73. On The Companionship With Nature 4/8/2010
74. The Land Of Pallas 4/8/2010
75. Freedom 4/8/2010
76. The Loons 4/8/2010
77. The Child's Music Lesson 4/8/2010
78. Refuge 4/8/2010
79. The City 4/8/2010
80. In March 4/8/2010

Comments about Archibald Lampman

  • Paul Reed Paul Reed (12/18/2013 8:26:00 AM)

    Haunting and inspriing poetry

    8 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
Best Poem of Archibald Lampman

A Night Of Storm

Oh city, whom grey stormy hands have sown,
With restless drift, scarce broken now of any,
Out of the dark thy windows dim and many
Gleam red across the storm. Sound is there none,
Save evermore the fierce wind's sweep and moan,
From whose grey hands the keen white snow is shaken
In desperate gusts, that fitfully lull and waken,
Dense as night's darkness round they towers of stone.

Darkling and strange art thou thus vexed and chidden;
More dark and strange thy veiled agony,
City of storm, in whose grey heart are hidden
What stormier woes, what lives that ...

Read the full of A Night Of Storm

A Thunderstorm

A moment the wild swallows like a flight
Of withered gust-caught leaves, serenely high,
Toss in the windrack up the muttering sky.
The leaves hang still. Above the weird twilight,
The hurrying centres of the storm unite
And spreading with huge trunk and rolling fringe,
Each wheeled upon its own tremendous hinge,
Tower darkening on. And now from heaven's height,
With the long roar of elm-trees swept and swayed,

[Report Error]