29 Nature Poems

Let these nature poems be ones that remind you of the amazing and complex world of the creation that surrounds us. From the natural beauty of the countryside to the garden. Also, find poems that reflect on the creatures in nature.

Nature Poems

1. Garden Poems 2. Tree Poems
3. Butterfly Poem 4. Poems About Birds
5. Ladybug Poem 6. Grasshopper Poem
7. Constant Beauty 8. Bulbs
9. Listen! 10. Mountain Peace
11. The Rose 12. The Mountain Brook
13. Don't Kill The Birds 14. Wind In The Trees
15. Flowers 16. Oh! The Flowers
17. Far From The Madding Crowd 18. Sunrise
19. Famous Poems About Dawn 20. Snowy Clouds

Colors are the smiles of nature. Leigh Hunt
  1. The City
    Poet: Ella Wheeler Wilcox

    I own the charms of lovely Nature; still,
    In human nature more delight I find.
    Though sweet the murmuring voices of the rill,
    I much prefer the voices of my kind.

    I like the roar of cities. In the mart,
    Where busy toilers strive for place and gain,
    I seem to read humanity's great heart,
    And share its hopes, its pleasures, and its pain.

    The rush of hurrying trains that cannot wait,
    The tread of myriad feet, all say to me:
    "You are the architect of your own fate;
    Toil on, hope on, and dare to do and be."

    I like the jangled music of the loud
    Bold bells; the whistle's sudden shrill reply;
    And there is inspiration in a crowd -
    A magnetism flashed from eye to eye.

    My sorrows all seem lightened, and my joys
    Augmented, when the comrade world walks near;
    Close to mankind my soul best keeps its poise.
    Give me the great town's bustle, strife, and noise.
    And let who will, hold Nature's calm more dear.

  2. The High Trail
    Poet: Berton Braley

    I'm sick of your mobs and machinery,
    I'm weary of second hand thrills,
    I'm tired of your two-by-four scenery,
    Your nice little valleys and hills;
    I want to see peaks that are bare again
    And ragged and rugged and high,
    To know the old tang in the air again
    And the blue of the clear western sky!

    Once more in each fibre and fold of me
    I feel the old wonderment brew,
    And again has the spell taken hold of me,
    The spell of the mountains I knew;
    So the city means nothing but slavery,
    And my heart is like lead in my breast,
    And life will be stale and unsavory
    Till I stand on the hills of the west.

    Let the homebodies "hobo" and "rover" me,
    Poor plodders, they never can know
    How the fret for the hills has come over me
    And the fever that bids me to go
    Away from traditions gone mouldering,
    Away from the paths overtrod,
    To the place where the mountains are shouldering
    Right up to the Archways of God!

  3. The Gladness Of Nature
    Poet: William Cullen Bryant

    Is this a time to be cloudy and sad,
    When our mother Nature laughs around;
    When even the deep blue heavens look glad,
    And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?

    There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren,
    And the gossip of swallows through all the sky;
    The ground-squirrel gaily chirps by his den,
    And the wilding bee hums merrily by.

    The clouds are at play in the azure space,
    And their shadows at play on the bright-green vale,
    And here they stretch to the frolic chase,
    And there they roll on the easy gale.

    There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bovver,
    There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree,
    There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower,
    And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.

    And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles
    On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray.
    On the leaping waters and gay young isles;
    Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away.

  4. Plant seeds of happiness, hope, success, and love; it will all come back to you in abundance. This is the law of nature. Steve Maraboli

  5. The Healing Power of Nature
    Poet: Leonora Milliken Boss

    Far famed the grand old forest,
    As the one whose name it bears;
    Calling, calling to the weary.
    To lay aside all cares.

    And come and rest, where Nature
    Her blessed boon can bring,
    Of health and strength and calmness,
    In all and everything.

    There is healing in the wildwood.
    Near the cedar and the pine;
    There is healing in the songbird,
    Tis a tonic, more than wine.

    The soughing of the pines can lull you.
    To a quiet few can know,
    For you're nearer to the Father;
    These are gifts he would bestow.

    And so, when the grand old forest
    Sends forth a call to you.
    Obey the summons and answer;
    Tis the least that you can do.

    For the renovation and needed rest
    Will be given in hospital here.
    Or, rather, in God's free sunlight,
    Where the cedar and pine are near.

  6. Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature. It will never fail you. Frank Lloyd Wright

  7. The Babbling Brook
    Poet: Mary C. Plummer

    Tell me, little babbling brook.
    Of the song you sing
    As you flow through hedge and nook.
    Let your sweet song ring.

    I have stood one half an hour.
    Listening to your chatter;
    All that I can understand
    Is just : Splatter, splatter.

    You say if I should place my ear
    Near your pretty dimple
    I could hear your lovely song.
    So beautiful and simple.

    Yes, now to me it is quite plain
    What a lovely sweet refrain!
    Words are, though today comes rain.
    Sunshine will return again.

  8. Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. Albert Einstein

  9. Nature's Bedtime
    Poet: Unknown

    Now Nature, like a careless child,
    That, sweetly innocent, can view
    No shame in nakedness, disrobes,
    To sleep the long, dark winter through
    And, like the careless child, she, too.
    Fagged out with pleasures of the day.
    Flings down her garments here and there
    For us to put away.

  10. natures heros

  11. The Streamlet
    Poet: Charles Fenno Hoffman

    How silently yon streamlet slides
    From out the twilight-shaded bowers!
    How, soft as sleep, it onward glides
    In sunshine through its dreaming flowers.

    That tranquil wave, now turn'd to gold
    Beneath the slowly westering sun,
    It is the same, far on the wold.
    Whose foam this morn we gazed upon.

    The leaden sky, the barren waste,
    The torrent we this morning knew,
    How changed are all! as now we haste
    To bid them, with the day, adieu!

    Ah ! thus should life and love at last
    Grow bright and sweet when death is near:
    May we, our course of trial passed.
    Thus bathed in beauty glide from here!

  12. Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished. Lao Tzu

  13. The Psalm Of The Woodsman
    By William Steward Gordon

    Blessed is the man that loveth Nature,
    For he shall never be lonely!
    Yea, though he loseth himself in the forest
    He is still in the midst of friends.

    The trees stretch their arms in protection;
    They invite him under their shelter.
    Their roots take hold of the mountain
    Like the stakes of a tent set firmly.

    The moss on the bark is a compass
    To tell him whither he goeth;
    It points his direction as surely
    As the guide-board out on the highway.

    The winds and the clouds are his servants;
    He knoweth their course in the season.
    Yea, the tree turns its face from the tempest.
    So the burden of branches is southward.

    The beasts and the birds are his comrades;
    He knoweth their signs and their habits.
    He knoweth their challenge of anger.
    And their milder language of mating.

    The rivulet calls him with laughter.
    And the pool is his only mirror.
    He looks, and the beard on his bosom
    Is blended with moss on the cedars.

    He knoweth the roots that are wholesome,
    And the edible barks and the berries —
    The camas that holdeth no poison,
    The celery and rice of the lakelets.

    Yea, blessed the man of the mountains!
    And thrice blessed is he if he follows
    The trail that leads over the summit
    On the highway to regions immortal.

    The years hang as light on his shoulders
    As the grizzled wings of the eagle.
    They are only fanciful burdens,
    For they help him to fly away.

    His is the calling courageous:
    He blazed the trail for his children.
    His footprints are waymarks of safety
    And his bones are a guide to the living.

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