Lucy Maud Montgomery

(30 November 1874 – 24 Nisan 1942 / New London)

Lucy Maud Montgomery Poems

81. Down Stream 1/3/2003
82. My Longshore Lass 1/3/2003
83. The Sea Spirit 1/3/2003
84. Gratitude 1/3/2003
85. The Mother 1/3/2003
86. Among The Pines 1/3/2003
87. The Old Home Calls 1/3/2003
88. Echo Dell 1/3/2003
89. A Winter Day 1/3/2003
90. A Day Off 1/3/2003
91. The Truce Of Night 1/3/2003
92. Down Home 1/3/2003
93. Come, Rest Awhile 1/3/2003
94. An Autumn Evening 1/3/2003
95. A Winter Dawn 1/3/2003
96. As The Heart Hopes 1/3/2003
97. A Summer Day 1/3/2003

Comments about Lucy Maud Montgomery

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    2 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • HEY I''M NOBODY (3/19/2019 10:36:00 AM)

    STOP READING HER POEMS. THEY SUCK!

    2 person liked.
    9 person did not like.
  • NOBODY (AGAIN) (3/19/2019 10:33:00 AM)

    GOOD GOD PEOPLE! ARE YOU MAD?

    ...

    2 person liked.
    5 person did not like.
  • NOBODY (3/19/2019 10:29:00 AM)

    97! WOW! CAN'T BELIEVE IT! JUST CRAZY!

    I DID NOT MEAN ENY OF IT!

    2 person liked.
    5 person did not like.
  • Bev Orris (2/3/2018 3:17:00 AM)

    I love all her novels, short stories and poems She is a painter but uses words, not paint

    9 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Paul Amrod Paul Amrod (5/28/2016 4:21:00 PM)

    A very gorgeous poem filled with challenges. With a good review of the rare words one comes to a very conclusive and touching result. I enjoy this type of romantic fantasy. This method has captured me in my own work.

    14 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
Best Poem of Lucy Maud Montgomery

A Winter Dawn

Above the marge of night a star still shines,
And on the frosty hills the sombre pines
Harbor an eerie wind that crooneth low
Over the glimmering wastes of virgin snow.

Through the pale arch of orient the morn
Comes in a milk-white splendor newly-born,
A sword of crimson cuts in twain the gray
Banners of shadow hosts, and lo, the day!

Read the full of A Winter Dawn

Out O'Doors

There's a gypsy wind across the harvest land,
Let us fare forth with it lightly hand in hand;
Where cloud shadows blow across the sunwarm waste,
And the first red leaves are falling let us haste,
For the waning days are lavish of their stores,
And the joy of life is with us out o' doors!

Let us roam along the ways of golden rod
Over uplands where the spicy bracken nod,

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