More Poems

Some more of my favourite poems about Nature…

 

“What A Thing It Is To Sit” by Thomas Merton

What a thing it is to sit absolutely alone,

in the forests,

at night,

cherished by this wonderful,

unintelligible, perfectly innocent speech,

the most comforting speech in the world,

the talk that rain makes by itself all over the bridges,

and the talk of the water courses everywhere in the hollows!

Nobody started it, nobody is going to stop it.

It will talk as long as it wants, this rain.

As long as it talks I am going to listen.

“My Symphony” by William Ellery Channing

To live content with small means,

to seek elegance rather than luxury,

and refinement rather than fashion,

to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich,

to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly,

to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart,

to bear all cheerfully,

do all bravely,

await occasions,

hurry never-

in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious,

grow up through the common.

This is to be my symphony.

“How Strange And Wonderful Is Our Home” by Edward Abbey

How strange and wonderful is our home, our earth,

With its swirling vaporous atmosphere,

Its flowing and frozen climbing creatures,

The croaking things with wings that hang on rocks

And soar through fog, the furry grass, the scaly seas…

How utterly rich and wild…

Yet some among us have the nerve,

The insolence, the brass, the gall to whine

About the limitations of our earthbound fate

And yearn for some more perfect world beyond the sky.

We are none of us good enough

For the world we have.

“Wherever You Are Is Home” by William Pelletier

Wherever you are is home

And the earth is paradise

Wherever you set your feet is holy land…

You don’t live off it like a parasite.

You live in it, and it in you,

Or you don’t survive.

And that is the only worship of God there is.

“There Is A Religion In Everything Around Us” by John Ruskin

There is religion in everything around us,

A calm and holy religion

In the unbreathing things in Nature.

It is a meek and blessed influence,

Stealing in, as it were, unaware upon the heart;

It comes quickly, and without excitement;

It has no terror, no gloom;

It does not rouse up the passions;

It is untrammeled by creeds…

It is written on the arched sky;

It looks out from every star;

It is on the sailing cloud and in the invisible wind;

It is among the hills and valleys of the earth

where the shrubless mountain-top pierces the thin atmosphere of eternal winter,

Or where the mighty forest fluctuates before the strong wind

With its dark waves of green foliage.

It is spread out like a legible language upon the broad face of an unsleeping ocean;

It is the poetry of Nature;

It is that which uplifts the spirit within …

And which opens to our imagination of world of spiritual beauty and holiness.

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