Who is Archibald Lampman

Archibald Lampman (17 November 1861 – 10 February 1899) was a Canadian poet. "He has been described as 'the Canadian Keats;' and he is perhaps the most outstanding exponent of the Canadian school of nature poets." The Canadian Encyclopedia says that he is "generally considered the finest of Canada's late 19th-century poets in English."Lampman is classed as one of Canada's Confederation Poets, a group which also includes Charles G.D. Roberts, Bliss Carman, and Duncan Campbell Scott.

Life

Archibald Lampman was born at Morpeth, Ontario, a village near Chatham, the son of Archibald Lampman, an Anglican clergyman. "The Morpeth that Lampman knew was a small town set in the rolling farm country of what is now western Ontario, not far from the shores of Lake Erie. The l...
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Archibald Lampman Poems

  • Vivia Perpetua
    Now being on the eve of death, discharged
    From every mortal hope and earthly care,
    I questioned how my soul might best employ
    This hand, and this still wakeful flame of mind, ...
  • The City Of The End Of Things
    Beside the pounding cataracts
    Of midnight streams unknown to us
    'Tis builded in the leafless tracts
    And valleys huge of Tartarus. ...
  • Amor Vitë
    I love the warm bare earth and all
    That works and dreams thereon:
    I love the seasons yet to fall:
    I love the ages gone, ...
  • Winter-break
    All day between high-curded clouds the sun
    Shone down like summer on the steaming planks.
    The long, bright icicles in dwindling ranks
    Dripped from the murmuring eaves till one by one ...
  • Morning On The Lië"vres
    Far above us where a jay
    Screams his matins to the day,
    Capped with gold and amethyst,
    Like a vapour from the forge ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Archibald Lampman

Long 72 Sweet 70 Dream 68 Life 64 Night 62 Light 60 Wind 54 Earth 53 Heart 52 Soft 51


Archibald Lampman Quotes

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Comments about Archibald Lampman

Brhomestead: voices of the earth, by archibald lampman (1861 - 1899) "we have not heard the music of the spheres, the song of star to star, but there are sounds more deep than human joy and human tears, that nature uses in her common rounds; the fall of streams, the cry of winds that strain
Skydog811: new from above/ground press: in which archibald lampman / translates arthur rimbaud, by grant wilkins
Bywordsdotca: new from above/ground press: in which archibald lampman / translates arthur rimbaud, by grant wilkins
Siegfriedmag: this is archibald lampman. our early readers may recognize his name from our first issue of last december, where we featured lampman’s poem “snow.”
Beechwoodottawa: as archibald lampman's poem - in beechwood cemetery says here the dead sleep--the quiet dead. no sound disturbs them ever, and no storm dismays. winter mid snow caresses the tired ground, and the wind roars about the woodland ways.
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Poem of the day

Edgar Albert Guest Poem
The Killing Place
 by Edgar Albert Guest

We're hiking along at a two-forty pace
We 're making life seem like a man-killing race,
With our nerves all on edge and our jaws firmly set
We go rushing along; with our brows lined with sweat
And our cheeks pale and drawn every minute we dash,
And the goal that we 're after is merely more cash.

We 're out for the money, the greenbacks and gold,
...

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