The US and Canada, at least. I think it originated in the US.
The American elk, also known as the wapiti,
runs through the maple woods clippity cloppity.
Favoured with feet of remarkable property,
wapitis never have need of chiropody.
Not mine unfortunately. It came from a children’s book, one poem for each letter of the alphabet. If anyone can name the book or author, please do.
7 Likes
Thanks!
I had to analyze that for school last year!
1 Like
6 Likes
When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."
Mary Oliver
2 Likes
The Tuft of Flowers
Robert Frost - 1874-1963
I went to turn the grass once after one
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.
The dew was gone that made his blade so keen
Before I came to view the levelled scene.
I looked for him behind an isle of trees;
I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.
But he had gone his way, the grass all mown,
And I must be, as he had been,—alone,
‘As all must be,’ I said within my heart,
‘Whether they work together or apart.’
But as I said it, swift there passed me by
On noiseless wing a ’wildered butterfly,
Seeking with memories grown dim o’er night
Some resting flower of yesterday’s delight.
And once I marked his flight go round and round,
As where some flower lay withering on the ground.
And then he flew as far as eye could see,
And then on tremulous wing came back to me.
I thought of questions that have no reply,
And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;
But he turned first, and led my eye to look
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,
A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.
I left my place to know them by their name,
Finding them butterfly weed when I came.
The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
By leaving them to flourish, not for us,
Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him.
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.
The butterfly and I had lit upon,
Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,
That made me here the wakening birds around,
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,
And feel a spirit kindred to my own;
So that henceforth I worked no more alone;
But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,
And weary, sought at noon with him the shade;
And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.
‘Men work together.’ I told him from the heart,
‘Whether they work together or apart.’
5 Likes
I found another thread about poetry:
https://forum.inaturalist.org/t/the-beauty-of-nature-in-poetry/2411
I wonder of the two could be combined…
This is a silly crazy experimental freestyle/haiku (maybe) poem:
Coooon-stiii-paaa-teeeed
clouds
aredrivingmecrazy!
Now, let’s get serious! The mulberry tree in the back yard has lost all its flowers. I have collected them to take them to a community garden compost pile. This tree made me think of this poem by the Italian poet Giuseppe Ungaretti:
Soldati
Si sta come
d’autunno
sugli alberi
le foglie
Bosco di Courton luglio 1918
Soldiers
We are as
in autumn
on branches
the leaves
Courton Forest, July 1918
(alberi = trees not branches. Poetic license I guess)
1 Like
That one had very few replies, and is closed to new comments/replies, which is another part of why I created this topic.
OK Thanks!
1 Like
Mary Oliver would have been pleased to be referenced (twice) in this topic. Nature was the centre around which her poetry revolved. She was arguably the best known and best loved poet in the USA and one of the most loved poets in the English language during her later years but was criticized by some for her focus on natural themes. The criticism didn’t bother her, I think.
6 Likes
I like how she named specific trees. Most poets are rather vague about their plants, even if the poem is about nature.
3 Likes
Not poems, but a couple songs: ‘Paradise’ by John Prine, and ‘Mr Powell’ by the Ozark Mountain Daredevils.
And for the lines, “'Cause there is no more new frontier, We have got to make it here”, ‘The Last Resort’ by The Eagles.
Forgot to add links to lyrics:
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/johnprine/paradise.html
https://genius.com/Ozark-mountain-daredevils-mr-powell-lyrics
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/eagles/thelastresort-1976.html
2 Likes
I don’t read poetry much, but there are a couple of songs about nature that never fail to give me goose bumps. Joni Michell’s " Big Yellow Taxi" Joni Mitchell – Big Yellow Taxi Lyrics | Genius Lyrics and Quick Silver Messenger Service’s “What About Me” Quicksilver Messenger Service – What About Me Lyrics | Genius Lyrics
2 Likes
You must be in an advanced class. I didn’t analyze The Road Not Taken" until I was a college freshman.
1 Like
The Big Yellow Taxi reminded me of My City Was Gone by The Pretenders: https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/pretenders/mycitywasgone.html
3 Likes
It was 7th grade, and to be honest I think the teacher did most of the analysis. We just answered questions and wrote stuff in our notebooks.
2 Likes
It sounds like something by Ogden Nash, but unfortunately I couldn’t find it via web search. If not by Nash, then likely by somebody who was a fan.
I recently looked up this one by Ogden Nash because a local naturalist has been taking her young daughter along on nature walks and I want to recite it for her the next time we see ducks:
The Duck
by Ogden Nash
Behold the duck.
It does not cluck.
A cluck it lacks.
It quacks.
It is specially fond
Of a puddle or pond.
When it dines or sups,
It bottoms ups.
4 Likes
For so many years, I only ever heard the Amy Grant cover, so the Joni Mitchell version still sounds odd to me.
1 Like
“Sea-fever” by John Masefield might not seem like a nature poem per se, but it does capture the way a sailor experiences nature on the high seas. I was in the Navy, so I know something about that.
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
1 Like