Poem Lake | The Greatest Poems of All Time

The Voice of the Grass Here i come creeping, creeping everywhere; By the dusty roadside, On the sunny hill-side, Close by the noisy brook, In every shady nook, I come creeping, creeping everywhere. Here I come creeping, smiling everywhere; ... Poet: Sarah Roberts Boyle	When the Grass Shall Cover Me when the grass shall cover me, Head to foot where I am lying; When not any wind that blows, Summer blooms nor winter snows, Shall awake me to your sighing: Close above me as you pass, You will say, “How kind she was,” ... Poet: Ina Coolbrith	In the Grass O to lie in long grasses! O to dream of the plain! Where the west wind sings as it passes A weird and unceasing refrain; Where the rank grass wallows and tosses, And the plains’ ring dazzles the eye; Where hardly a silver cloud bosses The... Poet: Hamlin Garland	Lying in the Grass Between two golden tufts of summer grass, I see the world through hot air as through glass, And by my face sweet lights and colors pass. Before me, dark against the fading sky, I watch three mowers mowing, as I lie: With brawny arms they sweep in harmony... Poet: Edmund Gosse
“Ilka blade o’ grass keps its ain drap o’ dew” Confide ye aye in Providence, for Providence is kind, And bear ye a’ life’s changes, wi’ a calm and tranquil mind, Though pressed and hemmed on every side, ha’e faith and ye ’ll win through, For ilka blade o’ grass keps its ain drap o’ dew. Gin reft frae friends... Poet: James Ballantine	“The green grass under the snow” The Work of the sun is slow, But as sure as heaven, we know; So we ’ll not forget, When the skies are wet, There ’s green grass under the snow. When the winds of winter blow, Wailing like voices of woe, There are April showers... Poet: Annie A. Preston	The Voice of the Grass Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere; By the dusty roadside, On the sunny hillside, Close by the noisy brook, In every shady nook, I come creeping, creeping everywhere. Here I come creeping, smiling everywhere... Poet: Sarah Roberts Boyle	What is the Grass? From “The Song of Myself” A CHILD said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. Or I guess it... Poet: Walt Whitman
Dew — is the Freshet in the Grass — Dew — is the Freshet in the Grass — 'Tis many a tiny Mill Turns unperceived beneath our feet And Artisan lies still — We spy the Forests and the Hills The Tents to Nature's Show Mistake the Outside... Poet:	The Grass so little has to do — The Grass so little has to do — A Sphere of simple Green — With only Butterflies to brood And Bees to entertain — And stir all day to pretty Tunes The Breezes fetch along — ... Poet: