Russian landscape painter Isaac Levitan (1860-1900) painted Evening on the Volga with large stratocumulus clouds above the calm river. Levitan was born in Lithuania and his family moved to Moscow, Russia where he learned to paint landscapes filled with emotion.
Water, a poem by Pablo Neruda
Everything on the earth bristled, the bramble
pricked and the green thread
nibbled away, the petal fell, falling
until the only flower was the falling itself.
Water is another matter,
has no direction but its own bright grace,
runs through all imaginable colors,
takes limpid lessons
and in those functionings plays out
the unrealized ambitions of the foam.
- by Pablo Neruda (1904-1973, Chilean poet)
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What’s the weather like? Ask a poet! Poetry about weather and other aspects of Earth can be very descriptive. Giving a sense of the environment through their words, poets describe the planet in interesting...more
The Sky Is Low, The Clouds Are Mean The sky is low, the clouds are mean, A travelling flake of snow Across a barn or through a rut Debates if it will go. A narrow wind complains all day How some one treated...more
Water Everything on the earth bristled, the bramble pricked and the green thread nibbled away, the petal fell, falling until the only flower was the falling itself. Water is another matter, has no direction...more
When The Sun Come After Rain When the sun comes after rain And the bird is in the blue, The girls go down the lane Two by two. When the sun comes after shadow And the singing of the showers, The girls...more
The night is darkening round me, The wild winds coldly blow; But a tyrant spell has bound me And I cannot, cannot go. The giant trees are bending Their bare boughs weighed with snow. And the storm is fast...more
I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet...more
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farm-house...more