Archibald Lampman

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

Archibald Lampman Poems

121. Viva Perpetua 4/8/2010
122. The Truth 4/8/2010
123. Midnight 1/1/2004
124. Alcyone 4/8/2010
125. An October Sunset 4/8/2010
126. An Ode To The Hills 4/8/2010
127. Temagami 1/1/2004
128. A Ballade Of Waiting 4/8/2010
129. Life And Nature 4/8/2010
130. The Growth Of Love Xi 1/1/2004
131. An Athenian Reverie 4/8/2010
132. Music 4/8/2010
133. After Rain 4/8/2010
134. Among The Millet 4/8/2010
135. In November (2) 1/1/2004
136. Among The Orchards 4/8/2010
137. A Prayer 4/8/2010
138. Abu Midjan 4/8/2010
139. An Autumn Landscape 4/8/2010
140. Winter Break 4/8/2010
141. Solitude 4/8/2010
142. The City At The End Of Things 1/1/2004
143. In November (1) 1/1/2004
144. In October 4/8/2010
145. Morning On The Lièvre 1/1/2004
146. Heat 1/1/2004
147. To A Millionaire 1/1/2004
148. Winter Uplands 1/1/2004
149. A Niagara Landscape 1/1/2004
150. A Song 4/8/2010
151. Winter Evening 1/1/2004
152. Winter-Solitude 1/1/2004
153. A Vision Of Twilight 4/8/2010
154. Voices Of Earth 1/1/2004
155. A January Morning 1/1/2004
156. A Thunderstorm 1/1/2004
157. A Night Of Storm 4/8/2010

Comments about Archibald Lampman

  • M. Sprindys (12/15/2018 6:39:00 PM)

    Lorenna Mckinnet does a lovely rendition of Snow. Beautiful words indeed.

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  • Izuchukwu Ike (11/26/2018 6:51:00 PM)

    can you make a person read the poem. The robot's voice drives my mind crazy

  • Izuchukwu Ike (11/26/2018 6:49:00 PM)

    what is the theme of the poem and can you tell us more about it

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

    Haunting and inspriing poetry

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

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