It Is Going To Snow, by Francis Jammes
IT is going to snow in a few days. I remember
This time last year. My heart, O how it bled!
Ha...
Poems by Francis Jammes
You Would Be Naked, by Francis Jammes
You would be naked on the wet and pink heather,
like those women one reads of in school,
with...
You Come When the Sun Sinks Low, by Francis Jammes
You come when the sun sinks low,
accompanied by the hum of bees. You come laughing with...
With Feet at the Fire, by Francis Jammes
WITH feet at the fire, I am thinking of those birds
Which told Columbus that the land was nigh....
There Are Days in June, by Francis Jammes
There are days in June that seem to be December.
Thus sometimes the substance of this room
&nbs...
Summer of Roses, by Francis Jammes
Summer of roses! O empress of flowers!
You are all I care to know:
you and your...
Prayer To Go To Paradise With the Asses, by Francis Jammes
O GOD, when You send for me, let it be
Upon some festal day of dusty roads.
I wish, as I did...
The Old Village, by Francis Jammes
THE old village was with roses filled,
And I went wandering in the heat of the day,
And, aft...
Madame de Warens, by Francis Jammes
MADAME DE WARENS, you would watch the storm
Folding the dark trees of your sad Charmettes,
Or...
Love, by Francis Jammes
LASS, when they talk of love, laugh in their face.
They find not love who seek it far and wide...
Amsterdam, by Francis Jammes
THE pointed houses lean so you would swear
That they were falling. Tangled vessel masts
Like le...
In the Foliage, by Francis Jammes
As I stand in the foliage
which soaked, drips itself dry
&n...
I Love ..., by Francis Jammes
I LOVE in old days Clara d'Ellé beuse,
The school-girl of old boarding-schools,
Who, ...
The Forest Paths, by Francis Jammes
THE forest paths are muddy, after the rain;
The meadows are soaked through and through again.
...
The Fever, by Francis Jammes
The brooms glow in the desolate moors;
on the ochre hills, the heather sings:
But you cannot...