A Pleasant Grove
Unto a pleasant grove or such like place,
Where here the curious cutting of a hedge:
There, by a pond, the trimming of the sedge:
Here the fine setting of well-shading trees:
The walks there mounting up by small degrees,
The gravel and the green so equal lie,
It, with the rest, draws on your ling'ring eye:
Here the sweet smells that do perfume the air,
Arising from the infinite repair
Of odoriferous buds and herbs of price,
(As if it were another Paradise)
So please the smelling sense, that you are fain
Where last you walk'd to turn and walk again.
There the small birds with their harmonious notes
Sing to a spring that smileth as she floats:
For in her face a many dimples show,
And often skips as it did dancing go:
Here further down an over-arched alley,
That from a hill goes winding in a valley,
You spy at end thereof a standing lake,
Where some ingenious artist strives to make
The water (brought in turning pipes of lead
Through birds of earth most lively fashioned)
To counterfeit and mock the sylvans all,
In singing well their own set madrigal.
This with no small delight retains your ear,
And makes you think none blest but who live there.
Then in another place the fruits that be
In gallant clusters decking each good tree,
Invite your hand to crop some from the stem,
And liking one, taste every sort of them:
Then to the arbours walk, then to the bowers,
Thence to the walks again, thence to the flowers,
Then to birds, and to the clear spring thence,
Now pleasing one, and then another sense.
Here one walks oft, and yet anew begin'th,
As if it were some hidden labyrinth;
So loath to part and so content to stay,
That when the gard'ner knocks for you away,
It grieves you so to leave the pleasures in it,
That you could wish that you had never seen it.
poem by William Browne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
For To See One More Spring
How marvellous to live for to see one more Spring
To feel the sun's warmth and to hear the birds sing
The sweet scents of Nature of pollen and hay
That wafts in the breeze of a beautiful day.
In search of water surface insects young ducklings are out
With their mums in the Townpark lake quietly swimming about
And the pipe of the shrike thrush is so pleasant to hear
In Nature Spring is such a nice time of year.
Were I a poet of such beauty I would write
A poem others would happily read and recite
Of Spring in her glory when flowers are in bloom
And the gardens are scenting of Nature's perfume.
Into the last month of Spring and young birds learning how to fly
And butterflies dancing in the sunny sky
I hear the familiar voice of the pee wee
And wild birds are whistling on bush and on tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Nicest Season For One To Die
The nicest Season for one to die must surely be the Spring
When the Parklands wear their Wildflowers and song birds pipe and sing
And young birds are chirping in their nests and the sparrows all the day
Are busy under the house eaves weaving their nests of hay.
If I'm not burned to ashes then why not bury me
In that old graveyard on the hill preferably by a tree
Where in Spring birds will build their nest and sing their songs above where I lay
Though what happens to your remains when you are dead doesn't matter some do say.
We all belong to Mother Nature and to her we must return sometime
The reaper takes the young and old and those in their life's
prime
And since I too must die I hope 'twill be when flowers are in full bloom
In the prime of Spring when the air scent sweetly of Nature's own perfume.
Bury me in the Graveyard on the hill where peace is to be found
Beside a tree where birds nest and sing content in their home ground
A quiet place free of man made noise when Spring is in the air
In Nature's bosom I will rest beyond any living care.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Walk In Nature
A walk in Nature never boring in Nature great beauty to see
The wild birds are chirping and singing on fence wire and bush and on tree
Away from the street and the traffic from human made pollution and noise
Above the gray scrub by the river the skylark he sings as he flies.
The poets have been inspired by Nature and of her great beauty they sing
The swallows return to their Homeplace when they sense the coming of Spring
And the artists they paint Nature's beauty the woodlands in their Autumn brown
And one can see the beauty of Nature even in the park of your town.
My stay on this Planet a brief stay but Mother Nature will live on
And the birds will be heard in the woodlands when I am forgotten and gone
Our lives they are not that important for our lives they are numbered in hours
But Mother Nature is forever and she outlives her beautiful flowers.
A walk in Nature never boring though she hides her secrets from me
Her birds always chirping and singing on hedge and on bush and on tree
My stay on this Planet a brief stay our average span ten years with three score
But Mother Nature is not for the reaper and she will live forever more
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring Song III
HERE'S the Spring-time, Sweet!
Earth's green gown is new,
Lambs begin to bleat,
Doves begin to coo,
Birds begin to woo
In the wood and lane;
Sweet, the tale is true
Spring is here again!
I have been discreet
All the winter through;
Now, before your feet,
Blossoms let me strew.
Flowers, as yet, are few;
Will my lady deign
Take this flower or two?
Spring is here again
Make the year complete,
Give the Spring her due!
All the flowers entreat,
All the song-birds sue.
'Twixt the green and blue
Let Love wake and reign,
Let me worship you--
Spring is here again!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Simple life I live
An afternoon walk
Seeing the white birds again
On these green ricefields
And the carabaos wallowing
Refreshing their skins in mud holes
It is the beginning of the
Planting season again
The weeds are uprooted
The plows run again
To make this land arable
The rain comes and too
The sun and the wind
The hills are greener
The trees are blooming
And so are the flowers
Along the footpaths
My dog walks with me
And his friend dog too walks with us
The wind so cool touches my face
The man nearby pastures his carabao
The woman washes some clothes in the river
The waters are still clear reflecting bluer skies
There are no sounds of buses in here
Far from the city in this little village
Where people are still innocent about greed
And grief and self-made confusions
The complications, the sophistications
I can live on a cup of rice, this mudfish,
This glass of water from the rock’s spring
This big banana leaf on my head
And the moon above everything else
And some stars lighting this lovely darkness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Blackbird's Song
The blackbird's song it takes me far away
To northern Land and to a distant day
His kin birds sang all day until sundown
In leafy groves just out of Millstreet Town.
A blackbird piping on a blackwood tree
Awake the nostalgic memories in me
Again I walk the lush green fields in Spring
And hear the wild birds on the hedgerows sing.
Bluebells bloom by the hedge by the bohreen
And cock pheasant often heard though seldom seen
In the knee high rushes clap his wings and crow
By their calls and songs the birds you get to know.
The distance from the home fields may be long
But whenever the migrant hear the blackbird's song
He or she will see the lushness brought by rain
And walk through fields where wild flowers bloom again.
To it the blackbird's song has a nostalgic ring
It takes the migrant to a distant Spring
And though far distant the Homeland near 'twould seem
And the dipper's song is echoing in the stream.
I thought this thing nostalgia I'd outgrown
But the blackbird's song it carries me back home
And I walk the high fields where I walked before
Up to the hill through the wood at Claramore
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Earth That You Walk Upon
Whats your name
Whats your nation
Sense of order
Sense of speed
Earth that you walk upon
Shakes his hand
Turns away
Turns his back and walks away
Earth that you walk upon
Earth that you walk upon
Whats your name
Whats your nation
Sense of order
Sense of speed
Earth that you walk upon
Passing on and on
Earth that you walk upon
Screaming edge of light
Shines so shines so hard
Earth that you walk upon
Turning on
Lyrics : j kerr music : simple minds (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ceiling
he walks down
and i walk up
he walks down
and i walk up
he walks down
and i walk up
we look into each
other and that's
just what we do
everyday
poor me
when am i induced
to be another
racist
he walks down
and i walk up
he walks down
and i walk u
that's what we do
day after day
letting our eyes
do the poor talking
whose fault?
whose fault?
i keep asking
the ceiling
in the nights
why why why?
i ask the ceiling
the answer comes
back in an overhanging
overbearing wordliness
the ceiling
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bulbul
The bulbul creates its own small rainbows
where happily it splashes in the pond
washing out good its own feathered suit,
while looking great eyed at the small pool
before it goes deeper into the water,
it rolls letting water-drops splash,
pressing down, its feathers, is dripping wet,
when happily it walks up and down, slapping wings
and then sedately starts to drink,
calling dozens of birds nearer;
twittering arrogantly, scuttling past the porch
and its raiment of feathers is shining from the water.
The bulbul creates its own small rainbows,
while looking great eyed at the small pond.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As The Spring Walks
the spring walks to the trees
to the flowers
to the leaves
the leaves turn to flowers
flowers to whites
slowly and sreadı ly
the restaurants disperse themselves to the streets
even the multi colored gaRDENS
opening to the children
people throw themselves to the pavements
the ugly
yhe good
the best and th dı rty
all together
all of them are walking in the spring
at one moment
hopeful
hopeless
living is drawing from their skirts
as he wishes
on the lips
a little smiles
bitter or ticklı ng
may be a piece of
living remnants
even if he does not want
a littler boy treads to the spring
treads smalls to the spring
his small shoes
caressing the spring
they were saying that
the spring will never come this year
but it came at last
nearer and nearer
closer and closer
use it as you wish
fry it in oven
or soak it with the sea
when the days become wrmer
the birds are happier
turning the pidgeons in the air
crowing the crown harder
there is the magpie
gone mad as ifs
gone crazy or insane
the spring walks to the trees
blossoms
as a turntable the time
dropping leaves in winter
, blossoming in summer
the litle girls playing balls
in the gardens
childish
ı know
the flowers must have bloomed
in my mother's grave wildish
theyt need even a little prayer
father is not known where
as he wanted there
may be that is the best for remembering
did not ı lost my sister in may
i do not even remember
slowly passes time
we are destined to live
as long as we live
blind or half lame
even if we scare
pray or not pray
our end is always in black soil
but the truth is covered with a wall
and one day
we will pass over
and eternalkly live there
fire it drops where
trouble disturbs us
time passing by
one day
we will say to all of you
and the spring googd bye
my rebellingf time has passed
long ago
but ı wonder
from time to time
when will the spring to me
will ever come
poem by Metin Sahin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Walk In The Park
A walk in the park on a sunny day
follow the trails, beautiful miles
seeing nature, seeing strangers
birds, butterflies flowing endlessly
squirrals playing, chasing one another
benches with ladies feeding birds
kids off playing in the grass
strollers, bikes whizzing by
people running by, skaters rolling by
walks like this clears the mind
peaceful, enjoyable
couples walking hand in hand
young and old, lovely site
we enjoy the simple life
walks in the park.
a joy for all
take a walk
poem by Michael Peterson
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On this day of Spring Original by Rabindranath Tagore
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
My friend's heart is as soft
As a little flower
Whose negligence makes it
So terribly suffer
Why do you come to her
And try to make her laugh
The one who used to come
Now doesn't care enough
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
God please keep the happy
People always happy
And let the Spring season
Of joy pass by smoothly
God don't let the happy
People see her in tears
Since they overlook her
And want to live in cheers
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
poem by Asif Andalib
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Walk By
ock and roll!
she walked down to the store at 8
the devil walks with her and he thinks shes great
when he looked at me i dont know wat i saw
i think hes trying to make me his son in law
when she walked by
walked by
walked by
she walked on by
walked by
walked by
walked by
she walked on by
egos fly and she walks by
she caught my eye on october ninth
thats 22 days before halloween
how did i know shed be my evil queen
when she walked by
walked by
walked by
she walked on by
walked by
walked by
walked by
she walked on by
my mother warned me against girls like you
she said stay away from them son you know they arent true
all there gonna do is put you under their spell
and when your going down your going straight to hell
walk by
walk by
walk by
im gonna walk on by
walk by
walk by
walk by
im gonna walk on by
walk on by
walk on by
walk on by
walk on by
song performed by by Good Charlotte from Good Charlotte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Authors
OVER the meadows, and down the stream,
And through the garden-walks straying,
He plucks the flowers that fairest seem;
His throbbing heart brooks no delaying.
His maiden then comes--oh, what ecstasy!
Thy flowers thou giv'st for one glance of her eye!
The gard'ner next door o'er the hedge sees the youth:
"I'm not such a fool as that, in good truth;
My pleasure is ever to cherish each flower,
And see that no birds my fruit e'er devour.
But when 'tis ripe, your money, good neighbour!
'Twas not for nothing I took all this labour!"
And such, methinks, are the author-tribe.
The one his pleasures around him strews,
That his friends, the public, may reap, if they choose;
The other would fain make them all subscribe.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring In Victoria
The bottlebrushes laden with crimson flowers
And there is warmth in the October breeze
And with her Spring has brought her blooms and greenery
And birds are singing on the sunlit trees.
Spring in Victoria my favourite time of year
The birds build their nests and raise their families
The weather not too cool or not too warm
A high today of 17 degrees.
The distinct call sounds of the magpie lark
And the Indian mynah sings his scratchy song
Some birds are easy to identify
And by their voices you never get them wrong.
Spring in Victoria is a time of bloom
And sun shines brightly after the brief showers
The fruit trees cloaked in blossoms of pale pink
And gardens look resplendent in their flowers.
My favourite season is always the spring
And spring in Victoria is now in her prime
The wild birds sing and gardens are in bloom
But Nature's beauty fades with the passage of time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Intro/walk On Water
Here is the water
The one that rushes
From our hearts into the sea
Endlessly hoping to be
Here is the water
The one that rushes from our
Minds into the street
Endlessly hoping to meet
They said we could walk on water
They said we should knock on wood
We did none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about falling in love
They said that we were getting smarter
They said that we were something new
We were none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about twenty and two
We done all the wrong things
And all we done good
They said we were the new beginning
They said we were a brand new start
We were none of these thing and they said we could sing
So we sang about the state of the art
They said we were the second coming
They said we were a different breed
We were none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about the birds and the bees
Bunch of do nothing that were down on your knees
Can you walk on water
But can you walk on - w a t e r (oh no)
Can you walk on - w a t e r
Oh can you walk on water
They said we could walk on water
They said we should knock on wood
We did none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about falling in love
They say that we say we say something
They say that we say something new
We say some of these things and they say we can sing
So we sang about a hundred and two
But if nobody listens well nothing comes true
When you walk on water
When you walk on - w a t e r (oh no)
Can you walk on - w a t e r
Oh can you walk on water
Can you walk on - w a t e r (oh no)
Can you walk on - w a t e r
Oh can you walk on water
We never walked on - w a t e r
So tell me something smarter w a t e r
Matadors monkeys, a million balloons
As we walk through the sea to the sand
Knowing full well that were perfectly tuned
As we skip through our hearts hand in hand
Well jenny the older
Whose music we heard
Will we all meet again at the end of the world
No sense in fooling
Were covered in dreams
Having too much fun flying to land
Floating waste high in tendrils of green
Were so small but we feel oh so grand
Well jenny the older
Whose music we heard
Will we all meet again at the end of the world
End of the world
Well jenny the older
Whose music we heard
Will we all meet again at the end of the world
The end of the world
On tuesday
The end of the world
Pop goes the world
The end of the world
Pop goes the world
On tuesday
The end of the world
The real world
Pop goes the world
On tuesday
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Out There In The Wide Country
Out there in the wide country like a small speck in the sky
The small brown skylark is carolling as upwards he does fly
On a warm day in October with a beautiful Spring breeze
With temperatures near perfect around 23 degrees,
October in Victoria in the woodland all the day
The gray shrike thrush is whistling in his cloak of brown and gray
And the white backed magpie is fluting upon the gray gum tree
And the magpie lark is singing pee wee pee wee pee wee
And the kookaburras laughter is ringing loud and clear
Out there in the wide country them one so often hear,
Out there in the wide country the wildflowers are in bloom
And the woods and paddocks scenting of Nature's sweet perfume
And the temperature is perfect days such as this are rare
And the nesting birds are singing and Spring is in the air.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He and I
He and I,—and that was all,—
The boundless world had grown so small:
So small, so narrow in content,
So single in possession sweet,
So personal, so love-complete,
So still, so eloquent!
He and I,—and Earth made new!
The flowers blossomed for us two,
And birds, to voice our rapture, sung
Divinely 'neath our northern skies,
As sung the birds in Paradise
When life and love were young!
He and I,—O aching heart!—
Only a narrow grave apart!
Yet seeking for his face in vain,
How changed, to me, the world has grown;
How cold it seems, how strange, how lone,
How infinite in pain!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Spring Did Begin (Rondelet)
Spring did begin
with lovely flowers blossoming,
spring did begin
with cheerful insects rushing in
with small butterflies fluttering
with joyful lovely birds that sing,
spring did begin.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The River of Leith
As I stood upon the Dean Bridge and viewed the beautiful scenery,
I felt fascinated and my heart was full of glee,
And I exclaimed in an ecstasy of delight,
In all my travels I never saw such a sight.
The scenery is so enchanting to look upon
That all tourists will say, "Dull care, be gone."
'Tis certainly a most lovely spot,
And once seen it can never be forgot.
Then away! away! to the River of Leith,
That springs from the land of heather and heath,
And view the gorgeous scenery on a fine summer day.
I'm sure it will drive dull care away.
The water-fall near the Bridge is most beautiful to be seen,
As it falls and shines like crystal in the sunsheen;
And the sound can be heard all day long,
While the innocent trouts sing an aquatic song.
The glen is a cool spot in the summer time.
There the people can be shaded from the sunshine
Under the spreading branches of the big trees,
And there's seats there to rest on if they please.
Then near St. Bernard's Well there's a shady bower,
Where the lovers, if they like, can spend an hour;
And while they rest there at their ease
They can make love to each other if they please.
The water of St. Bernard's Well is very nice,
But to get a drink of it one penny is the price.
I think in justice the price is rather high,
To give a penny for a drink when one feels dry.
The braes of the River Leith is most charming to be seen,
With its beautiful trees and shrubberies green,
And as the tourist gazes on the river in the valley below,
His heart with joy feels all aglow.
There the little trouts do sport and play
During the live-long summer day,
While the bee and butterfly is on the wing,
And with the singing of birds the glen doth ring.
The walk underneath the Dean Bridge is lovely to see.
And as ye view the scenery it will fill your heart with glee.
It is good for the people's health to be walking there
As they gaze on the beauties of Nature and inhale pure air.
The Dean Bridge is a very magnificent sight,
Because from the basement it is a great height.
And it seems most attractive to the eye,
And arrests the attention of strangers as they pass by.
The braes of Belgrave Crescent is lovely to see,
With its beautiful walks and green shrubbery.
'Tis health for the people that lives near by there
To walk along the bonny walks and breathe the sweet air.
Therefore all lovers of the picturesque, bo advised by me
And the beautiful scenery of the River Leith go and see,
And I am sure you will get a very great treat,
Because the River of Leith scenery cannot be beat.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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