Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Poems

Famous Short Lucy Maud Montgomery Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Lucy Maud Montgomery. A collection of the all-time best Lucy Maud Montgomery short poems

• Lucy Maud Montgomery Poems
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A Winter Dawn  

 Above the marge of night a star still shines, 
And on the frosty hills the sombre pines 
Harbor an eerie wind that crooneth low 
Over the glimmering wastes of virgin snow.
 

Through the pale arch of orient the morn
Comes in a milk-white splendor newly-born,
A sword of crimson cuts in twain the gray
Banners of shadow hosts, and lo, the day!

In Port  

 Last, to the chamber where I lie 
My fearful footsteps patter nigh, 
And come out from the cold and gloom 
Into my warm and cheerful room.
 

There, safe arrived, we turn about 
To keep the coming shadows out, 
And close the happy door at last 
On all the perils that we past.
 

Then, when mamma goes by to bed, 
She shall come in with tip-toe tread, 
And see me lying warm and fast 
And in the land of Nod at last.

Spring Song  

 THE air was full of sun and birds,
The fresh air sparkled clearly.

Remembrance wakened in my heart
And I knew I loved her dearly.


The fallows and the leafless trees
And all my spirit tingled.

My earliest thought of love, and Spring's
First puff of perfume mingled.


In my still heart the thoughts awoke,
Came lone by lone together -
Say, birds and Sun and Spring, is Love
A mere affair of weather?

Loves Prayer  

 Beloved, this the heart I offer thee 
Is purified from old idolatry, 
From outworn hopes, and from the lingering stain 
Of passion's dregs, by penitential pain.
 

Take thou it, then, and fill it up for me 
With thine unstinted love, and it shall be 
An earthy chalice that is made divine 
By its red draught of sacramental wine.

I Feel (Verse Libre)  

 I feel 
Very much
Like taking
Its unholy perpetrators
By the hair
Of their heads
(If they have any hair)
And dragging them around
A few times,
And then cutting them
Into small, irregular pieces
And burying them
In the depths of the blue sea.

They are without form
And void,/ Or at least
The stuff they/ produce
Is.
/ They are too lazy
To hunt up rhymes;
And that
Is all
That is the matter with them.

The Poets Thought  

 It came to him in rainbow dreams, 
Blent with the wisdom of the sages, 
Of spirit and of passion born; 
In words as lucent as the morn 
He prisoned it, and now it gleams 
A jewel shining through the ages.

The Bridal  

 Last night a pale young Moon was wed
Unto the amorous, eager Sea;
Her maiden veil of mist she wore
His kingly purple vesture, he.
 

With her a bridal train of stars
Walked sisterly through shadows dim,
And, master minstrel of the world,
The great Wind sang the marriage hymn.
 

Thus came she down the silent sky
Unto the Sea her faith to plight,
And the grave priest who wedded them
Was ancient, sombre-mantled Night.