Summer
Come we to the summer, to the summer we will come,
For the woods are full of bluebells and the hedges full of bloom,
And the crow is on the oak a-building of her nest,
And love is burning diamonds in my true lover's breast;
She sits beneath the whitethorn a-plaiting of her hair,
And I will to my true lover with a fond request repair;
I will look upon her face, I will in her beauty rest,
And lay my aching weariness upon her lovely breast.
The clock-a-clay is creeping on the open bloom of May,
The merry bee is trampling the pinky threads all day,
And the chaffinch it is brooding on its grey mossy nest
In the whitethorn bush where I will lean upon my lover's breast;
I'll lean upon her breast and I'll whisper in her ear
That I cannot get a wink o'sleep for thinking of my dear;
I hunger at my meat and I daily fade away
Like the hedge rose that is broken in the heat of the day.
poem by John Clare (1865)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
A Hunting Song
Hunters, where does Hope nest?
Not in the half-oped breast,
Nor the young rose,
Nor April sunrise—those
With a quick wing she brushes,
The wide world through,
Greets with the throat of thrushes,
Fades from as fast as dew.
But, would you spy her sleeping,
Cradled warm,
Look in the breast of weeping,
The tree stript by storm;
But, would you bind her fast,
Yours at last,
Bed-mate and lover,
Gain the last headland bare
That the cold tides cover,
There may you capture her, there,
Where the sea gives to the ground
Only the drift of the drowned.
Yet, if she slips you, once found,
Push to her uttermost lair
In the low house of despair.
There will she watch by your head,
Sing to you till you be dead,
Then, with your child in her breast,
In another heart build a new nest.
poem by Edith Wharton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lover Lover Lover
I asked my father,
I said, father change my name.
The one Im using now its covered up
With fear and filth and cowardice and shame.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
He said, I locked you in this body,
I meant it as a kind of trial.
You can use it for a weapon,
Or to make some woman smile.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
Then let me start again, I cried,
Please let me start again,
I want a face thats fair this time,
I want a spirit that is calm.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
I never never turned aside, he said,
I never walked away.
It was you who built the temple,
It was you who covered up my face.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
And may the spirit of this song,
May it rise up pure and free.
May it be a shield for you,
A shield against the enemy.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring In War-Time
Now the sprinkled blackthorn snow
Lies along the lover’s lane
Where last year we used to go-
Where we shall not go again.
In the hedge the buds are new,
By our wood the violets peer-
Just like last year’s violets too,
But they have no scent this year.
Every bird has heart to sing
Of its nest, warmed by its breast;
We had heart to sing last spring,
But we never built our nest.
Presently red roses blown
Will make all the garden gay..
Not yet have the daisies grown
On your clay.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lover Be Thy Name
Lover, lover
Lover be thy name I say
Hey, hey, hey lover
Lover, lover
Lover be thy name
Everyday when the sun goes down
And all alone I face the night
I thinkof you and all that you've been
To me you've torn away a hole in my life
Don't try to be my sister, my mother, my friend
Cause it would never ever be the same
Hey, hey, hey
Lover be thy name
In the Middle of the night
Lover be thy name
In the middle of the night
Lover be thy name
Go live your life and I'll try live mine
But baby, if you see me out on the street
Walk away, turn away
Don'tlook in my eyes
Till I get my heart back on my feet
Don't wanna be your brother or the
Shoulder you lean on
Just to ease the burning pain
When I Call you there's no answer
When I had your love
I didn't know the words to say
Those words to make you stay
I should have said
Lover, lover
Lover be thy name
song performed by by Haddaway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Innocence
They laughed at one I loved-
The triangular hill that hung
Under the Big Forth. They said
That I was bounded by the whitethorn hedges
Of the little farm and did not know the world.
But I knew that love's doorway to life
Is the same doorway everywhere.
Ashamed of what I loved
I flung her from me and called her a ditch
Although she was smiling at me with violets.
But now I am back in her briary arms
The dew of an Indian Summer lies
On bleached potato-stalks
What age am I?
I do not know what age I am,
I am no mortal age;
I know nothing of women,
Nothing of cities,
I cannot die
Unless I walk outside these whitethorn hedges.
poem by Patrick Kavanagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Saved me before I swoon
As if the metallic shield the elephant
wears that saves the people
while it goes wild and rut
during the sexual active period,
The beautiful breast-band of my lover
adorning the full formed breast
saved me before I swoon,
if I happened to see her
beauty without it.
Ref: kataa.ak kaLiRRinmEl kaNpataam maathar
pataa.a mulaimEl thukil. ThirukkuRaL - 1087
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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Quail's Nest
I wandered out one rainy day
And heard a bird with merry joys
Cry 'wet my foot' for half the way;
I stood and wondered at the noise,
When from my foot a bird did flee--
The rain flew bouncing from her breast
I wondered what the bird could be,
And almost trampled on her nest.
The nest was full of eggs and round--
I met a shepherd in the vales,
And stood to tell him what I found.
He knew and said it was a quail's,
For he himself the nest had found,
Among the wheat and on the green,
When going on his daily round,
With eggs as many as fifteen.
Among the stranger birds they feed,
Their summer flight is short and low;
There's very few know where they breed,
And scarcely any where they go.
poem by John Clare
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Well, after I had the heart attack, it was a very simple choice. What the doctor told me I did and I did it religiously. I ate nothing but lean turkey breast or chicken breast or a piece of fish that was very lean. I mean I stayed away from everything.
quote by Mike Ditka
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song (Untitled #10)
Come to me in any shape!
As a victor crown'd with vine,
In thy curls the clustering grape, -
Or a vanquished slave:
'Tis thy coming that I crave,
And thy folding serpent twine,
Close and dumb;
Ne'er from that would I escape;
Come to me in any shape!
Only come!
Only come, and in my breast
Hide thy shame or show thy pride;
In my bosom be caressed,
Never more to part;
Come into my yearning heart;
I, the serpent, golden-eyed,
Twine round thee;
Twine thee with no venomed test;
Absence makes the venomed nest;
Come to me!
Come to me, my lover, come!
Violets on the tender stem
Die and wither in their bloom,
Under dewy grass;
Come, my lover, or, alas!
I shall die, shall die like them,
Frail and lone;
Come to me, my lover, come!
Let thy bosom be my tomb:
Come, my own!
poem by George Meredith
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In the Spirit of Rumi-40-The Nightingale and the Rose
As cold winter turns to warming Spring,
two lovers return from their winter rest.
The first rose shyly blooms; .
the nightingale pours out its song.
These are the two most generous lovers in the world;
do they not deserve each other?
In the daytime, while the nightingale takes its rest,
renews its generous throat,
the rose opens to embrace the world with beauty;
In the nighttime, while the rose folds and rests in sleep,
waiting to drink that purest dew of dawn,
the nightingale tells the world of beauty;
So each speaks in turn; both speak of beauty;
one in sound, the other in silence.
This way, telling of their love to the sleeping other;
Do they prefer it thus? Or is their listening
as sensitive as a mother’s nighttime intuition,
hearing more clearly, inwardly, in rest?
Which is the Lover, which is the Beloved?
Does the nightingale return in spring
at the first perfume of the rose,
drifting from the hedge and garden
like the messages of Layla and Majnun?
Or does the rose wait impatiently to bloom in Spring
until it hears – its petals trembling as they listen –
the nightingale’s song from that liquid throat?
Which is the Lover, which is the Beloved?
Does it matter to the world?
It matters only if that love is not equal; full;
generous beyond all worldly measure;
and then the Lover has become the Beloved,
the Beloved has become the Lover..
You and I, on our prayer-mat each day,
seeking God within ourselves,
which is the Lover, which the Beloved?
Have we yet become each other,
equal, full, and generous beyond all worldly measure;
night and day, as nightingale and rose?
As nightingales and roses sing forever
of each other's love
eternally, the round world turning, turning..
l'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the Rangitaki Valley
valley of waving broom,
O lovely, lovely light,
O hear of the world, red-gold!
Breast high in the blossom I stand;
It beats about me like waves
Of a magical, golden sea
The barren heart of the world
Alive at the kiss of the sun,
The yellow mantle of Summer
Flung over a laughing land,
Warm with the warmth of her body
Sweet with the kiss of her breath
O valley of waving broom,
O lovely, lovely light,
O mystical marriage of Earth
With the passionate Summer sun!
To her lover she holds a cup
And the yellow wine o'erflows.
He has lighted a little torch
And the whole of the world is ablaze.
Prodigal wealth of love!
Breast high in the blossom I stand.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Lover Doll
(words & music by wayne - silver)
Lover doll, oh lover doll
Lover doll, lover doll
Youre the cutest lover doll
That I ever did ever see
Let me tell you lover doll
You were meant, just meant for me
On the first time that I saw you
How I fell for your cuddly charms
Lover doll Im crazy for you
Let me rock you in my arms
Im so glad I found you
Never thought dollies came full grown
Im gonna tie a ribbon around you
Wrap you up and take you home
I would never treat you badly
Like a cast away broken toy
Lover doll I love you madly
Let me be your lover boy
Im so glad I found you
Never thought dollies came full grown
Im gonna tie a ribbon around you
Wrap you up and take you home
I would never treat you badly
Like a cast away broken toy
Lover doll I love you madly
Let me be your lover boy
Lover doll, lover doll
Lover doll, lover doll
Lover doll, lover doll
Let me be your lover boy
Lover doll, lover doll
Lover doll, lover doll
Lover doll, lover doll
Let me be your lover boy
Let me be your lover boy
Let me be your lover boy
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aaron
Holiness on the head,
Light and perfection on the breast,
Harmonious bells below, raising the dead
To led them unto life and rest.
Thus are true Aarons dressed.
Profaneness in my head,
Defects and darkness in my breast,
A noise of passions ringing me for dead
Unto a place where is no rest.
Poor priest thus am I dressed.
Only another head
I have, another heart and breast,
another music, making live not dead,
without whom I could have no rest:
In him I am well dressed.
Christ is my only head,
My alone only heart and breast,
My only music, striking me even dead;
That to the old man I may rest,
And be in him new dressed.
So holy in my head,
Perfect and light in my dear breast,
My doctrine tuned by Christ, (who is not dead,
But lives in me while I do rest)
Come people; Aaron's dressed.
poem by George Herbert
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Where Shall the Lover Rest
Where shall the lover rest
Whom the fates sever
From the true maiden's breast,
Parted for ever?--
Where, through groves deep and high,
Sounds the fair billow,
Where early violets die,
Under the willow.
Chorus.
Soft shall be his pillow.
There, through the summer day,
Cool streams are laving;
There, while the tempests sway,
Scarce are boughs waving;
There, thy rest shall thou take,
Parted for ever,
Never again to wake,
Never, O never!
Chorus.
Never, O never!
Where shall the traitor rest,
He, the deceiver,
Who could win maiden's breast,
Ruin and leave her?--
In the lost battle,
Borne down by the flying,
Where mingles war's rattle
With groans of the dying.,P>
Chorus.
There shall he be lying.
Her wing shall the eagle flap
O'er the false hearted,
His warm blood the wolf shall lap,
Ere life be parted,
Shame and dishonor sit
By his grave ever;
Blessing shall hallow it,--
Never, O never!
Chorus
Never, O never!
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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To-morrow
The lighthouse shines across the sea;
The homing fieldfares sing for glee:
'Behold the shore!'
Alas for shattered wing and breast!
The lighthouse breakers make their nest,
And hedges bloom for them no more -
No more.
In their old church the lovers stand.
His wedding ring is on her hand,
All partings o'er.
Alas for mother still and cold
The babe her dead young arms enfold!
Her lover will know love no more -
No more.
What fate is this for birds and men?
The blue empyrean theirs - and then -
This fast-closed door.
One answers from his bended knee:
'Another morrow comes, saith he,
'A day that brings the night no more -
No more.'
Ah, happy one! Yet happier he
Who knows he knows not what will be;
Who has no lore
To read the runes of life and death,
But lives his best while he has breath,
And leaves with God the evermore -
The evermore.
poem by Ada Cambridge
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Thou Flower Of Summer
When in summer thou walkest
In the meads by the river,
And to thyself talkest,
Dost thou think of one ever--
A lost and a lorn one
That adores thee and loves thee?
And when happy morn's gone,
And nature's calm moves thee,
Leaving thee to thy sleep like an angel at rest,
Does the one who adores thee still live in thy breast?
Does nature eer give thee
Love's past happy vision,
And wrap thee and leave thee
In fancies elysian?
Thy beauty I clung to,
As leaves to the tree;
When thou fair and young too
Looked lightly on me,
Till love came upon thee like the sun to the west
And shed its perfuming and bloom on thy breast.
poem by John Clare
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While the woods were green
WHILE the woods were green,
'Oh I' she sang, 'my heart is new,
Leaping, longing, in my breast:
Let him come that loves me true,
Let him come that I love best,
I will tell him what I mean,
Now the wood-birds tell it too,
Now the woods are green.'
While the woods were bare,
'Oh I' she sighed, 'my heart is grey,
Shrinking, shivering, in my breast:
Love me, hate me, as they may,
None of them do I love best:
Let me be alone with care,
Now the wood-birds hide away,
Now the woods are bare.'
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Eleu Loro
Where shall the lover rest
Whom the fates sever
From his true maiden’s breast
Parted for ever?
Where, through groves deep and high
Sounds the far billow,
Where early violets die
Under the willow.
Eleu loro
Soft shall be his pillow.
There through the summer day
Cool streams are laving:
There, while the tempests sway,
Scarce are boughs waving;
There thy rest shalt thou take,
Parted for ever,
Never again to wake
Never, O never!
Eleu loro
Never, O never!
Where shall the traitor rest,
He, the deceiver,
Who could win maiden’s breast,
Ruin, and leave her?
In the lost battle,
Borne down by the flying,
Where mingles war’s rattle
With groans of the dying;
Eleu loro
There shall he be lying.
Her wing shall the eagle flap
O’er the falsehearted;
His warm blood the wolf shall lap
Ere life be parted.
Shame and dishonour sit
By his grave ever;
Blessing shall hallow it
Never, O never!
Eleu loro
Never, O never!
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Song - Wait But A Little While
WAIT but a little while—
The bird will bring
A heart in tune for melodies
Unto the spring,
Till he who ’s in the cedar there
Is moved to trill a song so rare,
And pipe her fair.
Wait but a little while—
The bud will break;
The inner rose will open and glow
For summer’s sake;
Fond bees will lodge within her breast
Till she herself is plucked and prest
Where I would rest.
Wait but a little while—
The maid will grow
Gracious with lips and hands to thee,
With breast of snow.
To-day Love ’s mute, but time hath sown
A soul in her to match thine own,
Though yet ungrown.
poem by Norman Rowland Gale
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Whisper of Love
Heart and soul love you baby
You ever don't feel my sorrow
Deep Pain forbid eyelids sleep
Shine star fade and shine away
Fancy whisper chest all the night
Your Letter name nest in my heart
Never feel my love, ever
Your eyes full sleep, baby
Still not in my hand, baby
Want to hug you and dance
To wrap my arms around you
To feel you heart beat
……
True, love is bitter battle
Tear, mind, heart, sole
No winner, all tiring, effort
Reunion stick all moment
As an infant to milk breast
but, baby if you don't know
Death is biggest love mercy
poem by Vian Sabri
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