Famous Eucalyptus Poems by Famous Poets
These are examples of famous Eucalyptus poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous eucalyptus poems. These examples illustrate what a famous eucalyptus poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).
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...ed out at the sky.
You never looked at me at all.
I used to walk down to where the bus stopped
Over the hill where the eucalyptus trees
Moved in the fog, and stared down
At the lights coming on, in the white rooms.
And always, when I came back to my sister's
I used to get out the records you made
The year before all your terrible trouble,
The records the critics praised and nobody bought
That are almost worn out now.
Now, sometimes I wake in the night
And hear the sound of...Read more of this...
by
Kees, Weldon
...Look, the eucalyptus, the Atlas pine,
the yellowing ash, all the trees
are gone, and I was older than
all of them. I am older than the moon,
than the stars that fill my plate,
than the unseen planets that huddle
together here at the end of a year
no one wanted. A year more than a year,
in which the sparrows learned
to fly backwards into eternity.
Their broth...Read more of this...
by
Levine, Philip
...t
pour.
At such times
I expect the earth
to pronounce. I say,
"I've been waiting
so long."
Up ahead
a stand of eucalyptus
guards the river,
the river moving
east, the heavy light
sifts down driving
the sparrows for
cover, and the women
bow as they slap
the life out
of sheets and pants
and worn hands....Read more of this...
by
Levine, Philip
...alifornia bush above Mill
Valley. We could look right down on the main street of Mill
Valley if it were not for the eucalyptus tree. We have to park
the car a hundred yards away and come here along a tunnel-
like path.
If all the Germans Pard killed during the war with his
machine-gun were to come and stand in their uniforms around
this place, it would make us pretty nervous.
There's the warm sweet smell of blackberry bushes along
the path and in the late af...Read more of this...
by
Brautigan, Richard
...ark seam inside the head, this name
The "my" head I admit, or consonantal glimmer
Insoluble
Or wet fields the vines or eucalyptus wood
Lift from, here
***
Whose cartilage did grief still bear?
Whose silent wound?
Who submitted?
Who fortuitously was grave?
A trepidation honest
Whose declaration met silence?
Whose demurred?
Whose wall shored up became
houses?
Whose "will"?
Whose sympathetic concatenation? Whose picture
withstood "ordeal"?
Who caressed "that tiger"?
Whose l...Read more of this...
by
Moure, Erin
...walls foursquare
Ringed all about with a twofold arcade.
Backward dense branches intercept the glare
Of afternoon with eucalyptus shade;
Eastward the level valley-plains expand,
Sweet as a queen's survey of her own Fairyland.
For through that frame the ivied arches make,
Wide tracts of sunny midland charm the eye,
Frequent with hamlet grove, and lucent lake
Where the blue hills' inverted contours lie;
Far to the east where billowy mountains break
In surf of snow against a s...Read more of this...
by
Seeger, Alan
...her. I could pray for
his bad leg or my son John whose luck
is rotten, or for four new teeth, but
instead I watch my eucalyptus,
the giant in my front yard, bucking
and swaying in the wind and hear its
tidal roar. In the strange new light
the leaves overflow purple and gold,
and a fiery dust showers into the day....Read more of this...
by
Levine, Philip
...e wild ducks played amid the swamps below;
It brought a breath of mountain air from off the hills of pine,
A scent of eucalyptus trees in honey-laden bloom;
And drifting, drifting far away along the Southern line
It caught from leaf and grass and fern a subtle strange perfume.
It reached the toiling city folk, but few there were that heard--
The rattle of their busy life had choked the whisper down;
And some but caught a fresh-blown breeze with scent of pine that sti...Read more of this...
by
Paterson, Andrew Barton
...
slowly from darkness to fire. Everyone
else is gone, their last words
reach us in the language of light.
The great eucalyptus trees along the road
swim in the new wind pouring
like water over the mountains. Each day
this is what we waken to, a water
like wind bearing the voices of the world,
the generations of the unborn chanting
in the language of fire. This will be
tomorrow. Why am I so quiet?...Read more of this...
by
Levine, Philip
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