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Best Famous Duncan Campbell Scott Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Duncan Campbell Scott poems. This is a select list of the best famous Duncan Campbell Scott poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Duncan Campbell Scott poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Duncan Campbell Scott poems.

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by Duncan Campbell Scott | |

Rain and the Robin

 A ROBIN in the morning,
In the morning early,
Sang a song of warning,
"There'll be rain, there'll be rain.
" Very,very clearly From the orchard Came the gentle horning, "There'll be rain.
" But the hasty farmer Cut his hay down, Did not heed the charmer From the orchard, And the mower's clatter Ceased at noontide, For with drip and spatter Down came the rain.
Then the prophet robin Hidden in the crab-tree Railed upon the farmer, "I told you so, I told you so.
" As the rain grew stronger, And his heart grew prouder, Notes so full and slow Coming blither, louder, "I told you so, I told you so," "I told you so.

by Duncan Campbell Scott | |

Stone Breaking

 March wind rough
Clashed the trees,
Flung the snow;
Breaking stones,
In the cold,
Germans slow
Toiled and toiled;
Arrowy sun
Glanced and sprang,
One right blithe
German sang:
Songs of home, 
Syenite hard,
Weary lot,
Callous hand,
All forgot:
Hammers pound,
Ringing round;
Rise the heaps,
To his voice,
Bounds and leaps
Toise on toise:
Toil is long,
But dear God
Gives us song,
At the end
Gives us test, 
Toil is best.

by Duncan Campbell Scott | |


 Set within a desert lone,
Circled by an arid sea,
Stands a figure carved in stone,
Where a fountain used to be.
Two abraded, pleading hands Held below a shapeless mouth, Human-like the fragment stands, Tortured by perpetual drouth.
Once the form was drenched with spray, Deluged with the rainbow flushes; Surplus water dashed away To the lotus and the rushes.
Time was clothed in rippling fashion,.
Opulence of light and air, Beauty changing into passion Every hour and everywhere.
And the yearning of that race Was for something deep and tender, Life replete with power, with grace, Touched with vision and with splendour.
Now no rain dissolves and cools, Dew is even as a dream, The enticing far-off pools In a mirage only seem.
All the traces that remain, Of the longings of that land, Are two hands that plead in vain Filled with burning sand.

by Duncan Campbell Scott | |

The Onondaga Madonna

 She stands full-throated and with careless pose,
This woman of a weird and waning race,
The tragic savage lurking in her face,
Where all her pagan passion burns and glows;
Her blood is mingled with her ancient foes,
And thrills with war and wildness in her veins;
Her rebel lips are dabbled with the stains
Of feuds and forays and her father's woes.
And closer in the shawl about her breast, The latest promise of her nation's doom, Paler than she her baby clings and lies, The primal warrior gleaming from his eyes; He sulks, and burdened with his infant gloom, He draws his heavy brows and will not rest.

by Duncan Campbell Scott | |


 A deep bell that links the downs
To the drowsy air;
Every loop of sound that swoons,
Finds a circle fair,
Whereon it doth rest and fade;
Every stroke that dins is laid
Like a node,
Spinning out the quivering, fine,
Vibrant tendrils of a vine:
(Bim - bim - bim.
) How they wreathe and run, Silvern as a filmy light, Filtered from the sun: The god of sound is out of sight, And the bell is like a cloud, Humming to the outer rim, Low and loud: (Bim - bim - bim.
) Throwing down the tempered lull, Fragile, beautiful: Married drones and overtones, How we fancy them to swim, Spreading into shapes that shine, With the aura of the metals, Prisoned in the bell, Fulvous tinted as a shell, Dreamy, dim, Deep in amber hyaline: (Bim - bim - bim.

by Duncan Campbell Scott | |


 Her life was touched with early frost,
About the April of her day,
Her hold on earth was lightly lost,
And like a leaf she went away.
Her soul was chartered for great deeds, For gentle war unwonted here: Her spirit sought her clearer needs, An Empyrean atmosphere.
At hush of eve we hear her still Say with her clear, her perfect smile, And with her silver-throated thrill: "A little while - a little while.