Archibald Lampman

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

Archibald Lampman Poems

81. On The Companionship With Nature 4/8/2010
82. God-Speed To The Snow 4/8/2010
83. The Land Of Pallas 4/8/2010
84. The Loons 4/8/2010
85. The Child's Music Lesson 4/8/2010
86. The Autumn Waste 4/8/2010
87. Refuge 4/8/2010
88. The Bird And The Hour 4/8/2010
89. The City 4/8/2010
90. Sight 4/8/2010
91. Inter Vias 4/8/2010
92. The Sun Cup 4/8/2010
93. Distance 4/8/2010
94. New Year's Eve 4/8/2010
95. Winter Hue's Recalled 4/8/2010
96. At The Long Sault: May, 1660 1/1/2004
97. The Sweetness Of Life 4/8/2010
98. The Woodcutter's Hut 4/8/2010
99. Sleep 4/8/2010
100. Evening 1/1/2004
101. Music 4/8/2010
102. The Largest Life 4/8/2010
103. Spring On The River 4/8/2010
104. The Organist 4/8/2010
105. A Forecast 4/8/2010
106. Reality 1/1/2004
107. An Old Lesson From The Fields 4/8/2010
108. The Weaver 4/8/2010
109. Perfect Love 4/8/2010
110. Personality 4/8/2010
111. Life And Nature 4/8/2010
112. April 4/8/2010
113. The Frogs 1/1/2004
114. The Railway Station 1/1/2004
115. A Re-Assurance 4/8/2010
116. Outlook 1/1/2004
117. A Song 4/8/2010
118. We Too Shall Sleep 4/8/2010
119. Amor Vitae 4/8/2010
120. A Sunset At Les Eboulements 1/1/2004

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 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,
And pelted waters, on the vanished plain
Plunges the blast. Behind the wild white flash
That splits abroad the pealing ...

Read the full of A Thunderstorm

Morning On The Lièvre

Far above us where a jay
Screams his matins to the day,
Capped with gold and amethyst,
Like a vapor from the forge
Of a giant somewhere hid,
Out of hearing of the clang
Of his hammer, skirts of mist
Slowly up the woody gorge
Lift and hang.

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