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. The Growth Of Love Xi 1/1/2004
130. After Rain 4/8/2010
131. Among The Millet 4/8/2010
132. Among The Orchards 4/8/2010
133. Winter Break 4/8/2010
134. Solitude 4/8/2010
135. A Prayer 4/8/2010
136. Abu Midjan 4/8/2010
137. An Autumn Landscape 4/8/2010
138. An Athenian Reverie 4/8/2010
139. Morning On The Lièvre 1/1/2004
140. In November (2) 1/1/2004
141. Amor Vitae 4/8/2010
142. Winter Uplands 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. To A Millionaire 1/1/2004
147. Among The Timothy 4/8/2010
148. A Vision Of Twilight 4/8/2010
149. In October 4/8/2010
150. Winter Evening 1/1/2004
151. Heat 1/1/2004
152. In November (1) 1/1/2004
153. Voices Of Earth 1/1/2004
154. A January Morning 1/1/2004
155. A Song 4/8/2010
156. A Thunderstorm 1/1/2004
157. A Night Of Storm 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

Temagami

Far in the grim Northwest beyond the lines
That turn the rivers eastward to the sea,
Set with a thousand islands, crowned with pines,
Lies the deep water, wild Temagami:
Wild for the hunter's roving, and the use
Of trappers in its dark and trackless vales,
Wild with the trampling of the giant moose,
And the weird magic of old Indian tales.
All day with steady paddles toward the west

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