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Poems About the Sky

Table of Contents

  1. The Rainbow by Christina Rossetti
  2. The Sky by Elizabeth Madox Roberts
  3. The Curly White Cloud Loves the Sky by Annette Wynne
  4. I Wish You Were More Friendly, Sky by Annette Wynne
  5. The Skies by William Cullen Bryant
  6. Northern Lights by Amos Russel Wells
  7. To The Northern Lights by Isaac Gray Blanchard
  8. Aurora by Emily Dickinson
  9. Secrets by Emily Dickinson
  10. The Night Sky by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
  11. The Miracle by Jessie Belle Rittenhouse
  12. God's House Has a Ceiling by Annette Wynne
  13. The Small Clouds Nestled in the Sky by Annette Wynne
  14. Thoughts by Annette Wynne
  15. The Sky Loves the Tall Hills by Annette Wynne
  16. The August Sky by Edith Franklin Wyatt

  1. The Rainbow

    by Christina Rossetti

    Boats sail on the rivers,
    And ships sail on the seas;
    But clouds that sail across the sky
    Are prettier far than these.

    There are bridges on the rivers,
    As pretty as you please;
    But the bow that bridges heaven,
    And overtops the trees,
    And builds a road from earth to sky,
    Is prettier far than these.

  2. The Sky

    by Elizabeth Madox Roberts

    I saw a shadow on the ground
    And heard a bluejay going by;
    A shadow went across the ground,
    And I looked up and saw the sky.

    It hung up on the poplar tree,
    But while I looked it did not stay;
    It gave a tiny sort of jerk
    And moved a little bit away.

    And farther on and farther on
    It moved and never seemed to stop.
    I think it must be tied with chains
    And something pulls it from the top.

    It never has come down again,
    And every time I look to see,
    The sky is always slipping back
    And getting far away from me.

  3. The Curly White Cloud Loves the Sky

    by Annette Wynne

    The curly white cloud loves the sky;
    It stays up there—so high, so high,
    Until the earth sends up a call,
    "I'm thirsty, cloud, O, fall, please fall!"

    The flower children all around
    Cry up: "Dear cloud, come to the ground,"
    And so, the cloud says: "Good-by, Sky,
    I'll come again—so high, so high."

  4. I Wish You Were More Friendly, Sky

    by Annette Wynne

    I wish you were more friendly, sky,
    You hold yourself so proud, and high;
    I cannot reach you with my hand
    Although upon a chair I stand.

  5. The Skies

    by William Cullen Bryant

    Ay! gloriously thou standest there,
    Beautiful, boundless firmament!
    That swelling wide o'er earth and air,
    And round the horizon bent,
    With thy bright vault, and sapphire wall,
    Dost overhang and circle all.

    Far, far below thee, tall old trees
    Arise, and piles built up of old,
    And hills, whose ancient summits freeze,
    In the fierce light and cold.
    The eagle soars his utmost height,
    Yet far thou stretchest o'er his flight.

    Thou hast thy frowns—with thee on high,
    The storm has made his airy seat,
    Beyond that soft blue curtain lie
    His stores of hail and sleet.
    Thence the consuming lightnings break.
    There the strong hurricanes awake.

    Yet art thou prodigal of smiles—
    Smiles, sweeter than thy frowns are stem:
    Earth sends, from all her thousand isles,
    A shout at thy return.
    The glory that comes down from thee,
    Bathes, in deep joy, the land and sea.

    The sun, the gorgeous sun, is thine,
    The pomp that brings and shuts the day,
    The clouds that round him change and shine,
    The airs that fan his way.
    Thence look the thoughtful stars, and there
    The meek moon walks the silent air.

    The sunny Italy may boast
    The beauteous tints that flush her skies.
    And lovely, round the Grecian coast,
    May thy blue pillars rise.
    I only know how fair they stand,
    Around my own beloved land.

    And they are fair—a charm is theirs,
    That earth, the proud green earth, has not—
    With all the forms, and hues, and airs,
    That haunt her sweetest spot.
    We gaze upon thy calm pure sphere,
    And read of Heaven's eternal year.

    Oh, when, amid the throng of men,
    The heart grows sick of hollow mirth,
    How willingly we turn us then
    Away from this cold earth,
    And look into thy azure breast,
    For seats of innocence and rest.

  6. Northern Lights

    by Amos Russel Wells

    Ghosts of dead rainbows dancing through the sky,
    All heaven quivering to their noiseless feet,
    Hand held in hand in eager circles fleet,
    Sharp phalanxes that pierce, and darts that fly,
    And ranks that shiver up to where on high
    Spirits of light and ghosts of color meet
    In a trembling phantom heart, whose pulses heat
    With pallid beauty, palpitate, and die.

    Sun of my soul, great Lord of life and light,
    Thy noonday splendor sends me to my task
    And turns my earth-besotted eyes from Thee;
    But here, in this mysterious dream of night,
    Behind a wavering, dim, and spectral mask,
    Worshipful Father, Thy great Self I see.

  7. Aurora

    by Emily Dickinson

    Of bronze and blaze
    The north, to-night!
    So adequate its forms,
    So preconcerted with itself,
    So distant to alarms, —
    An unconcern so sovereign
    To universe, or me,
    It paints my simple spirit
    With tints of majesty,
    Till I take vaster attitudes,
    And strut upon my stem,
    Disdaining men and oxygen,
    For arrogance of them.

    My splendors are menagerie;
    But their competeless show
    Will entertain the centuries
    When I am, long ago,
    An island in dishonored grass,
    Whom none but daisies know.

  8. To The Northern Lights

    by Isaac Gray Blanchard

    Ye gorgeous visions of the northern sky,
    Mysterious and sublime!
    Who lit your brilliant lights on high?
    Stream ye alone in idle revelry
    Above our cloudy clime,
    Without an aim, or nature, more
    Than mortal vision can explore?

    Or have ye some high, unknown ministry?
    Whence sprang ye into birth?
    In distant realms unseen?
    Or claim ye sisterhood with earth?
    And will your strange, ethereal sheen
    Fade with her fading green?

    Man's wisdom has not told—
    Ye are a mystery,
    Which time perhaps shall ne'er unfold;
    Philosophy, whose eagle pinion bold
    Has conquered space, and brought the planets near
    To her inspecting eye,
    Has sought in vain to fathom you,
    Or tell the office that ye do.

    Ye are of latter date—
    Say—are ye for a sign,
    Lit by the hand divine,
    Whence earth should read her coming fate?
    Signs shall be set in heaven,
    And wonders meet the eye,
    And naming prodigies be given
    Within the upper sky.

    Ye may be such—yet man would be
    Most backward thus to interpret ye,
    Who glides in blind security
    Down Time s exhausting tide;
    Puts far away the evil day,
    Or dreams that he shall dwell for aye
    In all his lust and pride.

    Whate'er ye are, ye have an aim,
    For He has lit your wondrous flame,
    Who fashions not a flower in vain,
    And howe'er fruitlessly we pry
    Into your inward mystery,
    One feature still is plain—
    Like as in all His works, sublime or fair,
    We trace the glories of the Godhead there!

  9. Secrets

    by Emily Dickinson

    The skies can't keep their secret!
    They tell it to the hills —
    The hills just tell the orchards —
    And they the daffodils!

    A bird, by chance, that goes that way
    Soft overheard the whole.
    If I should bribe the little bird,
    Who knows but she would tell?

    I think I won't, however,
    It's finer not to know;
    If summer were an axiom,
    What sorcery had snow?

    So keep your secret, Father!
    I would not, if I could,
    Know what the sapphire fellows do,
    In your new-fashioned world!

  10. The Night Sky

    by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts

    O deep of Heaven, 't is thou alone art boundless,
    'T is thou alone our balance shall not weigh,
    'T is thou alone our fathom-line finds soundless,—
    Whose infinite our finite must obey!
    Through thy blue realms and down thy starry reaches
    Thought voyages forth beyond the furthest fire,
    And, homing from no sighted shoreline, teaches
    Thee measureless as is the soul's desire.
    O deep of Heaven, no beam of Pleiad ranging
    Eternity may bridge thy gulf of spheres!
    The ceaseless hum that fills thy sleep unchanging
    Is rain of the innumerable years.
    Our worlds, our suns, our ages, these but stream
    Through thine abiding like a dateless dream.

    The glorious sky, embracing all,
    Is like the Father's love;
    Wherewith encompassed, great and small
    In peace and order move.

    – John Keble
    The Creator

  11. God's House Has a Ceiling

    by Annette Wynne

    God's house has a ceiling that's curved and far and high
    And beautiful and soft and blue—God's ceiling is the sky.

    And from God's ceiling hang rare lamps all radiant with light,
    One great big sun for all the day, and a million stars for night.

  12. The Small Clouds Nestled in the Sky

    by Annette Wynne

    The small clouds nestled in the sky
    And hid the sun;
    But soon the blustering wind rushed by,
    And chased them every one,
    And swept the sky so neat and clean
    That not a single speck was seen.

  13. Thoughts

    by Annette Wynne

    I think I'd like to live on Mars,
    Or any of the neighbor stars;
    I'd look down on the earth and see
    How very busy folks could be;
    I'd watch them running round and round
    Intent on looking at the ground.

    If I could build a brand new sky
    I would not make it half so high,
    I'd hang it on the tops of trees
    Where I could reach it at my ease,
    I'd climb up through the evening bars
    And see the wrong side of the stars.

  14. The Sky Loves the Tall Hills

    by Annette Wynne

    The sky loves the tall hills,
    Wraps them in day,
    Starts a million cooling rills
    Dancing down their way;
    Shelters well each bright head
    Bad days through,
    Every night puts them to bed
    With coverlet of blue.

  15. The August Sky

    by Edith Franklin Wyatt

    Sparkling in splendor, the Kite and the Dipper
    Crossed the black welkin, and Scorpio's star
    Lit on the runway stag, herdsman and skipper,
    When I was dust, perhaps, bed-rock or spar.

    Dust, fire, or dew, or the wind of the morning,
    Foam of some seacoast unknown, on the deep,
    Somewhere I lived in creation's adorning,
    Still, on the nights when Joan walked with her sheep.

    What was I dreaming and where did I wander,
    All through the Augusts be fore I could know?
    Crystal the Archer swept high over yonder:
    Close to the zenith burned Vega's blue snow.

    Glory on glory the night's coronation
    Circled the heavens before I was born—
    Shone while I slept in the soul of creation
    Somewhere when Ruth wept for home in the corn.

    Glory on glory the night's coronation
    Throbbed in a beauty past dream and desire,
    Proud as I slept in the soul of creation,
    Breath of the morning or bed-rock or fire.

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