Archibald Lampman

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

Archibald Lampman Poems

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

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,

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