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Best Famous Environment Poems

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

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Written by Tanwir Phool | |

O My Native Land(English translation of Urdu poemAie Watan)

http://forum.
urdujahaan.
com/viewtopic.
php?f=96&t=4192 O my native land ! O my native land ! Far better than a garden Is your dust and sand What a dignified place you are ! Full of grace and beauty , as star You are protected and saved , indeed By the Mercy of God , near not far O my native land ! O my native land ! Far better than a garden Is your dust and sand Ever-flowing rivers and valleys Charming scene of butterflies and bees So much soothing is your environment Like a paradise , full of ease O my native land ! O my native land ! Far better than a garden Is your dust and sand Phool , the poet is praying always God bless you during nights and days Long live up to the Doomsday With the joyful refulgence and rays O my native land ! O my native land ! Far better than a garden Is your dust and sand Poet : Tanwir Phool (from his book "Naghmat-e-Pakistan" i:e "The Melodies of Pakistan").
This book has won Presidential Award from the Government of Pakistan.


Written by Edwin Arlington Robinson | |

Theophilus

 By what serene malevolence of names 
Had you the gift of yours, Theophilus? 
Not even a smeared young Cyclops at his games 
Would have you long,—and you are one of us.
Told of your deeds I shudder for your dream And they, no doubt, are few and innocent.
Meanwhile, I marvel; for in you, it seems, Heredity outshines environment.
What lingering bit of Belial, unforeseen, Survives and amplifies itself in you? What manner of devilry has ever been That your obliquity may never do? Humility befits a father’s eyes, But not a friend of us would have him weep.
Admiring everything that lives and dies, Theophilus, we like you best asleep.
Sleep—sleep; and let us find another man To lend another name less hazardous: Caligula, maybe, or Caliban, Or Cain,—but surely not Theophilus.


Written by Walt Whitman | |

From Far Dakota’s Cañons.

 FROM far Dakota’s cañons, 
Lands of the wild ravine, the dusky Sioux, the lonesome stretch, the silence, 
Haply to-day a mournful wail, haply a trumpet-note for heroes.
The battle-bulletin, The Indian ambuscade, the craft, the fatal environment, The cavalry companies fighting to the last in sternest heroism, In the midst of their little circle, with their slaughter’d horses for breastworks, The fall of Custer and all his officers and men.
Continues yet the old, old legend of our race, The loftiest of life upheld by death, The ancient banner perfectly maintain’d, O lesson opportune, O how I welcome thee! As sitting in dark days, Lone, sulky, through the time’s thick murk looking in vain for light, for hope, From unsuspected parts a fierce and momentary proof, (The sun there at the centre though conceal’d, Electric life forever at the centre,) Breaks forth a lightning flash.
Thou of the tawny flowing hair in battle, I erewhile saw, with erect head, pressing ever in front, bearing a bright sword in thy hand, Now ending well in death the splendid fever of thy deeds, (I bring no dirge for it or thee, I bring a glad triumphal sonnet,) Desperate and glorious, aye in defeat most desperate, most glorious, After thy many battles in which never yielding up a gun or a color Leaving behind thee a memory sweet to soldiers, Thou yieldest up thyself.


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