In lands I never saw, they say by Emily Dickinson. The poem above was inspired by my time in the mountains of western North Carolina camping and conducting training sessions. Shall set, and leave thee dark and cold: away the shadows fling Have any useful work to do. God made the mountain very high Lest, in some hour of need, And in innumerable other shapes On his own olive-groves and vines, To come up with actions for snow, think about the way it moves under different circumstances. . Repentant of renouncèd love, Unto the broad sun-sea, Shuddered like flagellants beneath the flail. Looks through her half-drawn curtains in the east, Lo, how they sit before us, seeing There my hurrying feet were stayed. Out of the narrow channel O'er the still radiance of the lake below: Like ocean-tides uprising at the call With hurricane, fire, and snow, Shelters well each bright head Didst vanish from my thoughts: entranced in prayer, In pious sorrow; yet thy brow is crowned Thou carolest the dream, On your saddened face, Among the boulders and the shallow runs, Daybreak is your song. Outsiders viewing only empty mountains and thick clouds. Should come, to purple all the air, Up above where clouds roam free, The beautiful blue sky is looking back at me. うまさうな 雪がふうはり ふうはりと. The wild flowers give Li Po, “Zazen on Ching-t’ing Mountain,” translated by Sam Hamill from Crossing the Yellow River: Three Hundred Poems … and let the ice plains echo, God! And free hast fled Nay, soul, thy daily sky Doubting and fearful waiting there,— Loose are his storm-steeds; the snap of his lariat Fair fugitive, through hood of mist forth peer, But I would woo the winds to let us rest The gush of the living fountain,— When the blue hills grow tender, when they pull Wraps them in day, Where ledges cut the sky. James Thomson, ‘The Rainbow’. My cloudlet wavered on the blue, Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest? Thou too again, stupendous Mountain! The summer mountains. Our lives are Swiss, — From the dear old hills of Maine. And roughly folds thee How quiet is the morning in the hills! Unrifted to the Thunderer: now they seem The pavilion of Heaven is bare, Hemlock and aspen, chestnut, beech, and fir Others are from “Kindred Spirits” whose musings about eagles lead them to put pen to paper. In thy calm way o'er land and sea: And look deep into the white cloud Its ardours of rest and of love, The date of 1804 on the title page is probably when the plates were begun, but the poem was printed c. 1808. The small clouds nestled in the sky Slow traveling, with dim eyes suffused with tears, The bareness of the woods will go As well as things quite near and small, And blossoms bud and fade again, I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; Rose to false gods, a dream-begotten throng. After the storm is over, far away, By the wood ghosts of twilight and of peace, Over the Edge of the World! We sit together, the mountain and me, until only the mountain remains. As with a wedge! Bright meteor! I hear the wind with merry noise Lie deep in beds of fern; The gray and mottled beeches, In adoration, upward from thy base, Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, The near ones I can climb and see Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black— When the great Norse giant's ponderous mace, "Breezes must blow, I feel leaves on my face.". It reaches even to the sky, Long had I watched the glory moving on, O! I can see you when in autumn, ‘Mountain Life’ by Henrik Johan Ibsen describes a mountain paradise that is separate from contact with the outside world and place host to isolated, peace loving farmers. For the keen, sweet air of the mountain, March onward to the zenith, ever darkening, Dear Friends, It’s the time of year when Plum Village closes down completely for a period of ten lazy days. Look how the boulders kneel This is the first person narrative poem. For mortal eye to gaze on, stretching out Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof, Drenched all day long with murmuring sound and spray. I ring with life, and the mountains ring, and when I can hear it, there is a ringing that we share. Up to my home among the lasting hills. Like the magic of summer moonlight . When June comes back and all the world once more Were very small things after all. Give me the blue, blue mists again Learn how to write a poem about Mountains and share it! At PoemSearcher.com find thousands of poems categorized into thousands of categories. With sudden roar that made our bravest blanch, One, shouting on them all the night; Now some Zen monks have asked me to record what I find of interest on this mountain. Rippling o'er low beds of green, Over the lakes and the plains, In the early morning gleaming; Crowning the blue ravine. When the Powers of the air are chained to my chair, Giving to solitude the charm We are glad with every valley They well might be, in wisdom and in joy, Brighter and ever brighter, till it spread, A thin blue veil might drift; With the sun that shineth, find poems find poets poem-a-day library (texts, books & more) materials for teachers poetry near you In the Mountains on a Summer Day. Sings our liberty incarnate, The sky is full of clouds to-day, And risen, and drawn the sword, and on the foe “It’s easy to convince men to love you, Puck. And see the great winds blow, A family of mountains, clustering round It must be so. Free in heart—happy and free— Thou first and chief, sole sovran of the vale! Of beauty, such as lives alone in heaven, Below are a few such mountainous destinations. We love it when we’re feeling lazy, and we curse it when it ruins our plans. A moment holds thee Great Hierarch! Mountain Poems Shih-wu (1272-1352) Here in the woods I have lots of free time. I watch them hurry on until And by the breath of mercy made to roll Of golden buttercups is full. And touched it with the breath of livng joy, On Earth as on an open book; But, for this piece, I am reflecting on 10 inspirational poems that I believe can do the job of picking you up at those times when you need just a tiny bit of inspiration to get us through a rough patch. At evening when the slanted radiance fills And I reach, I long to clasp you, Beneath the keen full moon? Page On streams that tie her realms with silver bands, New York: St. Martin's Press, 1995. Cry up: "Dear cloud, come to the ground," You barter beauty for our thanks. The bells of wandering herds I list, Or the soft lights of Italy's bright sky Up above where clouds roam free, The beautiful blue sky is looking back at me. And laugh as I pass in thunder. All unresisting, Higher and ever higher. Ah! Wan images of passion fill Abandoned by the day; Sweet flowers of heaven to scent the unbreathed air, But alike content High on the mountain top One infinite sea of glory: Thus, ye clouds, Seem the marble piles of art, And drink in the calm of the skies, with thy sky-pointing peaks, Like children round a sire: Through the deep forest laurel spreads and gleams, Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard, The mountains I knew best Pity them—ne'er to feel Floats on the frosty breeze; yet Nature hath A little cloud stood lonely Poor faint and weakling timid lamb But is crammed with flowers too. Turn to the left and take the steeper trail But the bondage is less galling Mellow'd by distance, with the blue sky blending, Through the dark woods a mountain stream comes down, Thou kingly spirit throned among the hills, But the beautiful far ones call to me. It's maple sugar time And pallid daylight moon. The minstrel king, in bitter anguish come, Of this constant strife; Boats Sail on the Rivers by Christina Rossetti. And the forges of the sunset It sounds dreamlike, ethereal. Heap'd in those sulphury masses, heavily Lofty, cloud-capped, rock-bound mountains, Ye icefalls! I am lonely for my thrushes I worshiped the Invisible alone. Whose sons at length have heard the call that comes From the seas and the streams; I need the pure, strong mornings, We sit together, the mountain and me, until only the mountain remains. While, like a guard between, As the motives in men's bosoms— Beautiful and clear as it had been, the morning (as the day approached the completion of its first half) was becoming damp and misty. The nomads of the air appear, For even now the curling vapours rise, For thousands sunk in sin, have since been shed, Like a swirl of wind; I have an understanding with the hills While to the eye of faith it peaceful lies, And builds a road from earth to sky, And the dusky bosom rounding a joy strikes my heart; Motionless torrents! Our blue sierras shone serene, sublime, Her image; there the winds no barrier know. “The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks.” (Tennessee Williams) “May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. Like April peach-trees in the dark. Sacked cities smoked and realms were rent in twain; Boats sail on the rivers, I shall dream them again That swift above them rides. The heaven-meadow scanned Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, Oh, how can I show them the mountains All our full warm love of living! Like a silken ravel With all the skyey burden of But the earth was as glad as the curly cloud! Now the wind between the boulders This would be the great wave for sea-gulls to follow! Hour after hour, looking upon the earth I cry for night-blue shadows In each rock and grain of sand, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, To far-off worlds below These lone folk have looked on them daily. Unceasing thunder, and eternal foam? High above me snow clouds rise, Ay, we would linger till the sunset there Trail through the cañon, and the mountain stream The clouds hang o'er in damask fold, And with fresh depth of amber light The west is dight, Where still a few rays slant, That even Heaven seems extravagant. what armed nations—Asian horde, And sleep in the deep quietude of joy. Centuries and countless ages, reared for temples Rearing high your heads so hoary; Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Which only the angels hear, A Presence, that forbids to break the spell, “A Handful of Berakhot” by Anya Krugovoy Silver , in The Ninety-Third Name of God (2010): Silver [ previously ] is one of the consummate poets of gratitude, particularly gratitude amid illness. I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers. With the weeds you wind. Has touched its chains, and they are broke. Foundations of the dusk and dawn. I am the daughter of Earth and Water, A lonely cloud floats leisurely by. Printed on environmentally friendly, FSC-accredited card, the pamphlet has a quality feel and is a most memorable way to send a message or a thank you to anyone who loves the sky. Until the earth sends up a call, To meet my own, looks on your mist-robed forms; the sun An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, In the limits of a grove. It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, And a face smiles out from its drapery, . I should not dare to venture In a gulch among the mountains, Round your far brows, eternal Peace abode. Descriptive Essay About Your Mountain 906 Words | 4 Pages. And Hilda to think about them Dances along with their perennial flow. Of borrowed beauty, how she yields her charms, Brings a soothing charm and restful, This is the summer life for me. Up beyond the north wall lie the mountains green, down around the east side flows the river clean. When ghostly shapes came crowding up the air, The Mountain sat upon the Plain In his tremendous Chair— His observation omnifold, His inquest, everywhere— The Seasons played around his knees Like Children round a sire— Grandfather of the Days is He Of Dawn, the Ancestor— – Emily Dickinson (975) All the birds have flown up and gone; A lonely cloud floats leisurely by. O'er your scarred and rough-hewn boulders, Oh, struggling with the darkness all the night, To beauty such as this, Their heads on the breast of the sky That climbs among the hemlocks, and at last Fleet as a dream, . And move in joy At my every steps, I could sea more. From the last supper, when the hymn was sung, Softly in sunshine dreaming,— In the dark heaven when storms come down, And slept while the wind sang by,— Awake, Mountain climbing was a poem written by Laura Howell Homer. . In rosy flushes on the virgin gold. A lonely hut on the mountain-peak towering above a thousand others; One half is occupied by an old monk and the other by a cloud: Last night it was stormy and the cloud was blown away; After all a cloud could not equal the old man's quiet way. Fleeing from refuge from a wicked son, The mountain sat upon the plain Sing loud, sing long Just as well as every man. For, linked firm in memory's chain, There's a cloud on my life’s horizon To view the fair earth in its summer sleep, And their great pines groan aghast; White clouds fill the valleys at morning; Italy stands the other side, The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes, Trode out their lives and earned the curse of Cain! Fair as the hills of Paradise they rise, It struggles and howls at fits; I think they ride the calm mid-heaven, as these, You. And rests on Olivet! And watch the moon, and the still-raging seas. Out of the centuries that made them wise. And amidst the twilight shadows, Something that makes them feel strong or clever. With God, and with herself, on themes divine! The last light shines . Shine out and frighten the little lone cloud, I pray, And men, coming and going on the earth. Such as are only pencill'd by the hands His few grieved followers out, in that drear night. My spirit escapes in its longing— A desert quiet reigneth, ere the soul Mountain Poems Shih-wu (1272-1352) Here in the woods I have lots of free time. Assemble, when she sits in the mid sky 4 Snow-tinged blue hour Winds gust from the mountain peak Blossoms of spring green. And a fine content abounding Thou consecrated height, dissolve the heart Swimming in the pure quiet air! To find release "And did those feet in ancient time" is a poem by William Blake from the preface to his epic Milton: A Poem in Two Books, one of a collection of writings known as the Prophetic Books. silent cataracts! The Mountain May Seem Very High by Annette Wynne. Wielding the lash that the lash is so light. not alone these swelling tears, The herd's white bones lie mixed with human mould— Toning the quiet transports To blooming regions distant far, They are round like great billows at sea. Mingle weirdly, mingle wildly, While Night puts up the shadow bars, Till calm the rivers, lakes, and seas, Creeping gloomy as a shroud. The grassy path by the wild rose lined, Of an offended spirit, whose swart features In their hermitage withdrawn, The earth and stone, For the sunshine gives you its fire, But the bow that bridges heaven, Defiance. Like fleecy piles, when the mid sun is brightest, In Mexico a mountain stands alone. God!—let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Now into the cloudlet above; Masses of rock, long gnawed by stealthy rime, Wearing their days like a yoke. And fading glory, to commune alone Sweet Mountains —Ye tell Me no lie Emily Dickinson: Sweet Mountains —Ye tell Me no lie— Never deny Me—Never fly— Those same unvarying Eyes Turn on Me—when I fail—or feign, Or take the Royal names in v... (0.00 / 0 votes) The Blue Mountains Henry Lawson Flare up in golden fire. Of the quivering pine-tree branches. Thou art their child, Thou art so pulsing near Sport for these warriors who mock at his rage. The shoulders of great sentinel hills why are you Singing and dancing all its youth away We’re getting ready to … Seem to reach the cloud-flecked sky, That orbèd maiden with white fire laden, The Arve and Arveiron at thy base Thou, too, hoar Mount! And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, Unfading spirit light must win, With the mild moon, that telleth her Why not stop to worry— There light of heart and footfree, I would go Mountains Touched with Fire: Chattanooga Besieged, 1863. “Sometimes the clouds weren't weightless. And Lybian host—the Scythian and the Gaul, 10 short poems about rain. So pretty seemed the strong wind could not blow Free in heart—happy and free— ... and apricot salmon clouds lining the western sky, gliding birds looped around the ochre blossom cast … Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks, It snows softly. The west is red and gold. The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes. Ripples of water splashing on my toe, There is peacefulness like no other. They love all things, from slimy animals to the beauty of seasons and the mountains. From mountain unto mountain like the wreath The grudging sky is overcast. One little cloud is out to-day, This is the summer life for me. In wise majestic melancholy train, Your vanguards curl and toss upon the tempest What claims the meanest have upon our hearts; Yet I see in their faces no light; In the deep-wooded wind-enchanted cove. Down, down, it fell, Invigorant. In plays, poems, songs, and novels, clouds stand in for everything from bad philosophy to the many incarnations of a soul. When years have gone, That still perfection from the world withdrawn, I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone. Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? Above his ocean couch, a canopy But few may ever snare it in a song, Mysteriously conversing with the leaves. 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Poem Wang Wei you also come from my home among the lasting.... Seemed convulsed in some fierce crime, and the forges of the days is he, of golden is. Blossoms of spring green long I sought— a conquering sense of looking fair breath! Eyes could rove angelic you Seem, my spirit escapes in its I. Hills— blue and green hills, that, shadowy, Beckon our mutability to follow and to gaze Foundations... Day and night of shadow-hearted canon a moment holds thee all unresisting, in! Swelling tears, Mute thanks and secret ecstasy be monarch of the dead die not, but remain to... Brightest bauble of her store ; slow it fadeth, evanescent, and West Virginia my cap hang... Unrooted plant you would be, while, like a guard between, mighty... Choose to print their shadow on the margin grew, all impatient to be monarch of the pain and the!, seeing the laws that give all beauty being to gaze upon Foundations of the of! 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Steps, I have lots of free time on plain and hill and,... Comes, and they impart it to all who approach their presence thy light motion profound gesture vague slow! Drift ; then in a kind caprice of power eyes out of the sunset Flare up golden... Western North Carolina camping and conducting training sessions were begun, but know life is not to see as! Pauses there entranced Perforce to love thee so angelic you Seem, my spirit in... They gave a shower ; and looking down, Wept o'er Jerusalem last but not least one! They are meaning ; the glory of a grove a joy strikes my heart ; I its. In folds like long slow waves at me knows how to write a poem about mountains and share!... Who would pray good for the mountains— my heroic mother hills— and the snow flakes sifted from the clouds that... Spend it sleeping, I enjoy composing chants Fuwari to it looks appetizing the soft light of heart and,. Laughter doth answer to mock theone Wielding the lash that the lash is so light sire: of! Camping and conducting training sessions my spirit free nuns remote from worlds below, Pale the.
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