The Bluebell
The Bluebell is the sweetest flower
That waves in summer air :
Its blossoms have the mightiest power
To soothe my spirit's care.
There is a spell in purple heath
Too wildly, sadly dear ;
The violet has a fragrant breath,
But fragrance will not cheer,
The trees are bare, the sun is cold,
And seldom, seldom seen ;
The heavens have lost their zone of gold,
And earth her robe of green.
And ice upon the glancing stream
Has cast its sombre shade ;
And distant hills and valleys seem
In frozen mist arrayed.
The Bluebell cannot charm me now,
The heath has lost its bloom ;
The violets in the glen below,
They yield no sweet perfume.
But, though I mourn the sweet Bluebell,
'Tis better far away;
I know how fast my tears would swell
To see it smile to-day.
For, oh! when chill the sunbeams fall
Adown that dreary sky,
And gild yon dank and darkened wall
With transient brilliancy;
How do I weep, how do I pine
For the time of flowers to come,
And turn me from that fading shine,
To mourn the fields of home!
poem by Emily Brontë from Selections from the literary remains of Emily and Anne Brontë (1850)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
The Blue Bell
The blue bell is the sweetest flower
That waves in summer air;
Its blossoms have the mightiest power
To soothe my spirit's care.
There is a spell in purple heath
Too wildly, sadly dear;
The violet has a fragrant breath
But fragrance will not cheer.
The trees are bare, the sun is cold;
And seldom, seldom seen;
The heavens have lost their zone of gold
The earth its robe of green;
And ice upon the glancing stream
Has cast its sombre shade
And distant hills and valleys seem
In frozen mist arrayed -
The blue bell cannot charm me now
The heath has lost its bloom,
The violets in the glen below
They yield no sweet perfume.
But though I mourn the heather-bell
'Tis better far, away;
I know how fast my tears would swell
To see it smile today;
And that wood flower that hides so shy
Beneath the mossy stone
Its balmy scent and dewy eye:
'Tis not for them I moan.
It is the slight and stately stem,
The blossom's silvery blue,
The buds hid like a sapphire gem
In sheaths of emerald hue.
'Tis these that breathe upon my heart
A calm and softening spell
That if it makes the tear-drop start
Has power to soothe as well.
For these I weep, so long divided
Through winter's dreary day,
In longing weep--but most when guided
On withered banks to stray.
If chilly then the light should fall
Adown the dreary sky
And gild the dank and darkened wall
With transient brilliancy,
How do I yearn, how do I pine
For the time of flowers to come,
And turn me from that fading shine
To mourn the fields of home -
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Guilt Will Wilt The Sweetest Flower
[Song Lyric]
Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower,
Cause the very sun to glower,
Though the skies their tears may shower.
Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower.
Shame will tame the lion's power,
Make the boldest warrior cower,
Turn the taste of triumph sour.
Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower.
For each mister, miss, or madam,
Son or lover— this is so.
In the Bible Eve and Adam
Did discover long ago...
That guilt will wilt the sweetest flower,
Steal the pleasure from the hour,
Even in the greenest bower—
Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower.
poem by Harley White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Mysterious Flower
Fragrant -Mauve, Purple - Flower
Violet my best flower
You make me at ease you give me Power
Lavender Flower - Mysterious Flower
what a relaxing scent! There is No More Stress
a field of Lavender thwarts a deep Sadness
You're my balm - you soothe my annoyance
Just one deep breath- I go into a trance
your enigmatic color, make me pensive
meditiative
contemplative,
introspective,
reflective.
I wonder the Lavender scenery
I dive
no north, no south, no east, no west
I am your faithful captive.
poem by Glamorous Enigma
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Song - Seasons of Galloway
The fields of wheat glow gold and sway
Old mem’ries flock from everywhere
On summer winds they drift in waves
Back to her towns and villages
As guillemots crowd ragged cliffs
And herring shoal off Clanyard Bay
Her sons and daughters all come home
In dreams of their young Galloway
‘Til gales come howlin’ from the west
The Cree runs high beneath the bridge
And Falling leaves ski down the wind
And starlings swirl upon the wing
For summer’s gone and sadness swells
In waves that break in Sand Eel bay
But shades of autumn weave their spell
Amongst the lanes of Galloway
Above Glen Trool the Merrick heights
All sleep beneath a chill of snow
And flights of geese come sweeping in
Across the White loch, flying low
While icy waters plunge down through
The Glen of Luce towards the sea
The cliffs are silent as the grave
And winter winds blast Galloway
‘til bluebell blossoms scent the woods
And timid deer and foxes roam
Amongst the cover on the hill
Above the village of Drummore
As swallows swoop through ancient ruins
Reminders of old yesterdays
But green shoots promise life again
Across the hills of Galloway.
03 09 08
The Bluebell
A fine and subtle spirit dwells
In every little flower,
Each one its own sweet feeling breathes
With more or less of power.
There is a silent eloquence
In every wild bluebell
That fills my softened heart with bliss
That words could never tell.
Yet I recall not long ago
A bright and sunny day,
'Twas when I led a toilsome life
So many leagues away;
That day along a sunny road
All carelessly I strayed,
Between two banks where smiling flowers
Their varied hues displayed.
Before me rose a lofty hill,
Behind me lay the sea,
My heart was not so heavy then
As it was wont to be.
Less harassed than at other times
I saw the scene was fair,
And spoke and laughed to those around,
As if I knew no care.
But when I looked upon the bank
My wandering glances fell
Upon a little trembling flower,
A single sweet bluebell.
Whence came that rising in my throat,
That dimness in my eye?
Why did those burning drops distil -
Those bitter feelings rise?
O, that lone flower recalled to me
My happy childhood's hours
When bluebells seemed like fairy gifts
A prize among the flowers,
Those sunny days of merriment
When heart and soul were free,
And when I dwelt with kindred hearts
That loved and cared for me.
I had not then mid heartless crowds
To spend a thankless life
In seeking after others' weal
With anxious toil and strife.
'Sad wanderer, weep those blissful times
That never may return!'
The lovely floweret seemed to say,
And thus it made me mourn.
poem by Anne Brontë
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Heath The Impersonator
Born in New York and is Italian,
gets girls like the Italian Stallion.
Now his name is Heath like the candy bar,
he is a talented impersonator with many voices thus far.
He accurately impersonates our dear friend Jim,
he wears his hat and glasses, but now Heath's thin.
Maybe in his new act Heath will add a pillow to his shirt,
Heath is good at impersonating Jim no matter what the quirks.
Heath has plans to go to the city that never sleeps,
I hope is a major act and rises above the heap.
Also Heath could make it in L.A.,
he has more talent than major acts of the day.
poem by Suzae Chevalier (10 October 2011)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Daisy - On Finding one in Bloom on Christmas-day
There is a flower, a little flower
With silver crest and golden eye,
That welcomes every changing hour,
And weathers every sky.
The prouder beauties of the field
In gay but quick succession shine;
Race after race their honors yield,
They flourish and decline.
But this small flower, to Nature dear,
While moons and stars their courses run,
Wreathes the whole circle of the year,
Companion of the Sun.
It smiles upon the lap of May,
To sultry August spreads its charms,
Lights pale October on his way,
And twines December's arms.
The purple heath and golden broom
On moory mountains catch the gale;
O'er lawns the lily sheds perfume,
The violet in the vale.
But this bold floweret climbs the hill,
Hides in the forest, haunts the glen,
Plays on the margin of the rill,
Peeps round the fox's den.
Within the garden's cultured round
It shares the sweet carnation's bed;
And blooms on consecrated ground
In honor of the dead.
The lambkin crops its crimson gem;
The wild bee murmurs on its breast;
The blue-fly bends its pensile stem
Light o'er the skylark's nest.
'Tis Flora's page, - in every place,
In every season, fresh and fair;
It opens with perennial grace,
And blossoms everywhere.
On waste and woodland, rock and plain,
Its humble buds unheeded rise;
The Rose has but a summer reign;
The Daisy never dies!
poem by James Montgomery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lone Yellow Flower Waves In The Open Fields
lone yellow flower
waves in the open fields
bowing according to the tune
among the sea of green;
lone yellow flower has no one to blame
and it seeks none to praise
for it knows all life comes in
when the conditions are right;
lone yellow flower knows
death comes in like the wind;
lone yellow flower
is never alone
for it is a part of the expression
of the earth and time and the universe;
lone yellow flower sees what is before and around
lone yellow flower observes what is within and about
and so lone yellow flower lives with no delusions
no beliefs of heaven and hell
fears none and does not live or die
to please or amuse or appease;
and lone yellow flower
blossoms and shines
and shrivels and ceases
in harmony
with what actually is;
lone yellow flower
waves in the open fields
bowing according to the tune
among the sea of green
poem by Raj Arumugam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wiccan Chant of Power
I conjure thee O spirit light
Invoking thee O spirit bright
I bind your soul eternally
O spirit light I conjure thee
I am your guide, I’m in control
I own the essence of your soul
So follow me and be my bride
I’m in control, I am your guide
This spell of power I invoke
And all free will I do revoke
I am the poison you devour
I invoke this spell of power
I conjure thee O spirit mine
You know my power is divine
Submit to me on bended knee
O spirit mine I conjure thee
poem by Amera Andersen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-70
Purple passion flower(Maypop
Passiflora incarnata)
Like Shiva, rays air flown
Passionate gently swaying
Dulcet breeze transmitting
Purplish passion wide blown
You're such o' dear flower
Viney perennial and cosmic
Pristine patterned dynamic
Complex blossoms just super
It's to adore your heart
Fragrant centered serpent
Hooding the cosmic secret
Like Cannonballs protect
Still more adorable willingly
Your fruit juicy succulant
Watching big leaves serrate
As you flower waiting eagerly
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nature’s Music
Of many gifts bestowed on earth
To cheer a lonely hour,
Oh is there one of equal worth
With music’s magic power?
’Twill charm each angry thought to rest,
’Twill gloomy care dispel,
And ever we its power can test,—
All nature breathes its spell.
There’s music in the sighing tone
Of the soft, southern breeze
That whispers thro’ the flowers lone,
And bends the stately trees,
And—in the mighty ocean’s chime,
The crested breakers roar,
The wild waves, ceaseless surge sublime,
Breaking upon the shore.
There’s music in the bulbul’s note,
Warbling its vesper lay
In some fair spot, from man remote,
Where wind and flowers play;
But, oh! beyond the sweetest strain
Of bird, or wave, or grove
Is that soother of our hours of pain—
The voice of those we love.
When sorrow weigheth down the heart
The night birds sweetest lay—
The harp’s most wild and thrilling art—
Care cannot chase away;
But let affection’s voice be heard,
New springs of life ’twill ope,—
One word—one little loving word—
Will bring relief and hope.
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clumsy Hands
Life blossoms, from only a tiny rosebud,
A beautiful flower that is God's perfect design;
I tried to be gentle, to unfold the dainty petals
With these clumsy careless hands of mine.'
'The secret of unfolding the delicate flower
Is not known to numerous people such as I.
I opened this flower with love as power,
in my hands they tattered and emotionally did die.'
'So I couldn’t unfold God’s elegant flower,
As The aweosme design collapsed, within hours
Sadly, shocked, I realized, I lost all my wisdom
To enjoy the happiness of the earthly kingdom
Now the rugged path that lies before me
To unfold the moments of peace within me
Which is Covered with unseen pain around
God blessed me with many a friends so sound.
Uneasily the flower will blossom, with time again
God will not retire, let it be sun or pouring rain
Now each moment of my dawning day
God's Stars, silvery don’t fail to shine my way......
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Purple Silk
Purple silk caresses my skin like butter,
It is like the richest, darkest chocolate,
Wicked, yet magical, touches that soothe,
My skin soft to the touch,
As purple silk lets you win,
For you are like the sweetest candy to me,
You are like sugar: so sweet,
And every night, I wait for your return,
Myself having worked my fingers to the bone,
But you are my only one,
You matter more to me than the summer sun,
Because it doesn't matter to me if it is winter:
All that matters is that you are here,
Keeping me in your heart and me keeping you near,
I just know we were born equal,
For this is our spirit and our destiny,
A magical, flower filled path that we are walking along,
For together we are one: we are strong,
And we brave those storms,
That threaten to take us from the warm,
And leave us alone and destitiute,
But we are together and together we hold on,
Purple silk covering our kingsize bed,
As we renew our vows with a kiss,
And treasure this true love for always,
Our love as rich as pure gold.
Purple silk carresses my skin,
Like the richest, most luxurious cream,
And I feel the summer night breeze,
Against my beautifully, made-up face,
That smiles with real happiness,
For I have a new lover,
That I wear beautiful purple silk for,
And I lie there, naked on the bedroom floor,
The clock striking midnight,
The party not over for us,
For I have found true love,
Where kisses are so sweet,
And touches that leave me fizzy,
Because I am drunk on his love and am dizzy,
And I care about the world I live in,
And the opinions of people who live here,
In this place, this life, this time,
And he is magical, truly mine,
Like the moon and the stars of the night sky,
I treasure him like gold from a treasure chest,
And for him I do my best,
To build us a happy home,
Where we live in harmony,
And share a closeness so rare,
Like the most beautiful red ruby,
And I wear his gold wedding ring,
His beauty so great that lovers sing,
Because he lives deep inside my heart,
Purple silk for magical nights,
The room glowing from the light of the moon,
For we belong together; our bodies joining together,
And he stars in my realm of dreams,
And he is the hero in this movie scene,
So close to my heart, I cannot desert him,
And together we tackle our lives,
And deal with harsh, grey days,
Waiting for darkness to fall,
So we can be together again, for we fit,
Like the lace and silk of any garment,
That lovers share,
My skin electric with excited sweat,
And lovely shivers go through my bones,
For tonight I carress your skin with purple silk,
Our clothes discarded on the bedroom floor,
The only light being cast like magic from the moon.
poem by Paula Glynn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shall Earth No More Inspire Thee
Shall Earth no more inspire thee,
Thou lonely dreamer now ?
Since passion may not fire thee
Shall nature cease to bow ?
Thy mind is ever moving
In regions dark to thee;
Recall its useless roving -
Come back and dwell with me -
I know my mountain breezes
Enchant annd soothe thee still -
I know my sunshine pleases
Despite thy wayward will -
When day with evening blending
Sinks from the summer sky,
I've seen thy spirit bending
In fond idolotry -
I've watched thee every hour -
I know my mighty sway -
I know my magic power
To drive thy griefs away -
Few hearts to mortal given
On earth so wildly pine
Yet none would ask a Heaven
More like this Earth than thine -
Then let my winds caress thee -
Thy comrade let me be -
Since nought beside can bless thee
Return and dwell with me -
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Friendship's Flower
Life is like a garden
And friendship like a flower,
That blooms and grows in beauty
With the sunshine and the shower.
And lovely are the blossoms
That are tended with great care,
By those who work unselfishly
To make the place more fair.
And, like the garden blossoms,
Friendship's flower grows more sweet
When watched and tended carefully
By those we know and meet.
And, if the seed of friendship
Is planted deep and true
And watched with understanding,
Friendship's flower will bloom for you.
poem by Winniek Koh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ere Sleep Comes Down To Soothe The Weary Eyes
ERE sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
Which all the day with ceaseless care have sought
The magic gold which from the seeker flies;
Ere dreams put on the gown and cap of thought,
And make the waking world a world of lies, —
Of lies most palpable, uncouth, forlorn,
That say life's full of aches and tears and sighs, —
Oh, how with more than dreams the soul is torn,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
How all the griefs and heartaches we have known
Come up like pois'nous vapors that arise
From some base witch's caldron, when the crone
To work some potent spell, her magic plies.
The past which held its share of bitter pain,
Whose ghost we prayed that Time might exorcise,
Comes up, is lived and suffered o'er again,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
What phantoms fill the dimly lighted room;
What ghostly shades in awe-creating guise
Are bodied forth within the teeming gloom.
What echoes faint of sad and soul-sick cries,
And pangs of vague inexplicable pain
That pay the spirit's ceaseless enterprise,
Come thronging through the chambers of the brain,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
Where ranges forth the spirit far and free?
Through what strange realms and unfamiliar skies
Tends her far course to lands of mystery?
To lands unspeakable — beyond surmise,
Where shapes unknowable to being spring,
Till, faint of wing, the Fancy fails and dies
Much wearied with the spirit's journeying,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
How questioneth the soul that other soul, —
The inner sense which neither cheats nor lies,
But self exposes unto self, a scroll
Full writ with all life's acts unwise or wise,
In characters indelible and known;
So, trembling with the shock of sad surprise,
The soul doth view its awful self alone,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
When sleep comes down to seal the weary eyes,
The last dear sleep whose soft embrace is balm,
And whom sad sorrow teaches us to prize
For kissing all our passions into calm,
Ah, then, no more we heed the sad world's cries,
Or seek to probe th' eternal mystery,
Or fret our souls at long-withheld replies,
At glooms through which our visions cannot see,
When sleep comes down to seal the weary eyes.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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FriendShip Flowers
Life is like a garden
And friendship like a flower,
That blooms and grows in beauty
With the sunshine and the shower.
And lovely are the blossoms
That are tended with great care,
By those who work unselfishly
To make the place more fair.
And, like the garden blossoms,
Friendship's flower grows more sweet
When watched and tended carefully
By those we know and meet.
And, if the seed of friendship
Is planted deep and true
And watched with understanding,
Friendship's flower will bloom for you (
poem by Mazher Sheikh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sweetest Perfection
The sweetest perfection
To call my own
The slightest correction
Couldn't finely hone
The sweetest infection
Of body and mind
Sweetest injection of any kind
I stop and I stare too much
Afraid that I care too much
And I hardly dare to touch
For fear that the spell may be broken
When I need a drug in me
And it brings out the thug in me
Feel something tugging me
Then I want the real thing not tokens
The sweetest perfection
Things you'd expect to be
Having effect on me
Pass undetectedly
But everyone knows what has got me
Takes me completely
Touches so sweetly
Reaches so deeply
I know that nothing can stop me
Sweetest perfection
An offer was made
An assorted collection
But I wouldn't trade
The sweetest perfection
Takes me completely
Touches so sweetly
Reaches so deeply
Nothing can stop me
song performed by by Deftones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song
Oh! To be a flower
Nodding in the sun,
Bending, then upspringing
As the breezes run;
Holding up
A scent-brimmed cup,
Full of summer's fragrance to the summer sun.
Oh! To be a butterfly
Still, upon a flower,
Winking with its painted wings,
Happy in the hour.
Blossoms hold
Mines of gold
Deep within the farthest heart of each chaliced flower.
Oh! To be a cloud
Blowing through the blue,
Shadowing the mountains,
Rushing loudly through
Valleys deep
Where torrents keep
Always their plunging thunder and their misty arch of blue.
Oh! To be a wave
Splintering on the sand,
Drawing back, but leaving
Lingeringly the land.
Rainbow light
Flashes bright
Telling tales of coral caves half hid in yellow sand.
Soon they die, the flowers;
Insects live a day;
Clouds dissolve in showers;
Only waves at play
Last forever.
Shall endeavor
Make a sea of purpose mightier than we dream to-day?
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lenten Flowers
Primrose, anemone, bluebell, moss
Grow in the Kingdom of the Cross
And the ash-tree's purple bud
Dresses the spear that sheds his blood.
With the thorns that pierce his brow
Soft encircling petals grow
For in each flower the secret lies
Of the tree that crucifies.
Garden by the water clear
All must die who enter here!
poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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