Archibald Lampman

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

Archibald Lampman Poems

81. God-Speed To The Snow 4/8/2010
82. The Land Of Pallas 4/8/2010
83. The Loons 4/8/2010
84. Viva Perpetua 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 City 4/8/2010
89. The Bird And The Hour 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. Indian Summer 4/8/2010
95. New Year's Eve 4/8/2010
96. Winter Hue's Recalled 4/8/2010
97. At The Long Sault: May, 1660 1/1/2004
98. The Sweetness Of Life 4/8/2010
99. The Woodcutter's Hut 4/8/2010
100. Sleep 4/8/2010
101. Evening 1/1/2004
102. Music 4/8/2010
103. The Largest Life 4/8/2010
104. Spring On The River 4/8/2010
105. The Organist 4/8/2010
106. A Forecast 4/8/2010
107. Reality 1/1/2004
108. An Old Lesson From The Fields 4/8/2010
109. The Weaver 4/8/2010
110. Perfect Love 4/8/2010
111. Personality 4/8/2010
112. Life And Nature 4/8/2010
113. April 4/8/2010
114. The Frogs 1/1/2004
115. The Railway Station 1/1/2004
116. A Re-Assurance 4/8/2010
117. Outlook 1/1/2004
118. A Song 4/8/2010
119. We Too Shall Sleep 4/8/2010
120. Amor Vitae 4/8/2010

Comments about Archibald Lampman

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

    Haunting and inspriing poetry

    7 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 January Morning

The glittering roofs are still with frost; each worn
Black chimney builds into the quiet sky
Its curling pile to crumble silently.
Far out to westward on the edge of morn,
The slender misty city towers up-borne
Glimmer faint rose against the pallid blue;
And yonder on those northern hills, the hue
Of amethyst, hang fleeces dull as horn.
And here behind me come the woodmen's sleighs

[Report Error]