Archibald Lampman

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

Archibald Lampman Poems

121. Among The Orchards 4/8/2010
122. Outlook 1/1/2004
123. After Rain 4/8/2010
124. Distance 4/8/2010
125. Spring On The River 4/8/2010
126. The Land Of Pallas 4/8/2010
127. Personality 4/8/2010
128. We Too Shall Sleep 4/8/2010
129. Perfect Love 4/8/2010
130. A Prayer 4/8/2010
131. Abu Midjan 4/8/2010
132. Winter Hue's Recalled 4/8/2010
133. Three Flower Petals 4/8/2010
134. Snowbirds 4/8/2010
135. The Railway Station 1/1/2004
136. An Autumn Landscape 4/8/2010
137. Life And Nature 4/8/2010
138. The Largest Life 4/8/2010
139. Winter Break 4/8/2010
140. The Organist 4/8/2010
141. The City At The End Of Things 1/1/2004
142. Winter Uplands 1/1/2004
143. Temagami 1/1/2004
144. Solitude 4/8/2010
145. A Night Of Storm 4/8/2010
146. In November (1) 1/1/2004
147. Midnight 1/1/2004
148. A Vision Of Twilight 4/8/2010
149. A Thunderstorm 1/1/2004
150. Heat 1/1/2004
151. A Niagara Landscape 1/1/2004
152. Winter-Solitude 1/1/2004
153. Winter Evening 1/1/2004
154. Voices Of Earth 1/1/2004
155. To A Millionaire 1/1/2004
156. The Woodcutter's Hut 4/8/2010
157. A January Morning 1/1/2004

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 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
With shouts and clamorous squeakings; might and main
Up the steep slope the horses stamp and strain,
Urged on by hoarse-tongued drivers—cheeks ablaze, ...

Read the full of A January Morning

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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