A London Idyll
On grass, on gravel, in the sun,
Or now beneath the shade,
They went, in pleasant Kensington,
A prentice and a maid.
That Sunday morning’s April glow,
How should it not impart
A stir about the veins that flow
To feed the youthful heart.
Ah! years may come, and years may bring
The truth that is not bliss,
But will they bring another thing
That can compare with this?
I read it in that arm she lays
So soft on his; her mien,
Her step, her very gown betrays
(What in her eyes were seen)
That not in vain the young buds round,
The cawing birds above,
The air, the incense of the ground,
Are whispering, breathing love.
Ah I years may come, &c.
To inclination, young and blind,
So perfect, as they lent,
By purest innocence confined
Unconscious free consent.
Persuasive power of vernal change,
On this, thine earliest day,
Canst thou have found in all thy range
One fitter type than they?
Ah! years may come, &c.
Th’ high-titled cares of adult strife,
Which we our duties call,
Trades, arts, and politics of life,
Say, have they after all,
One other object, end or use
Than that, for girl and boy,
The punctual earth may still produce
This golden flower of joy.
Ah! years may come, &c.
O odours of new-budding rose,
O lily’s chaste perfume,
O fragrance that didst first unclose
The young Creation’s bloom!
Ye hang around me, while in sun
Anon and now in shade,
I watched in pleasant Kensington
The prentice and the maid.
Ah! years may come, and years may bring
The truth that is not bliss,
But will they bring another thing
That will compare with this?
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Sixty to Sixteen
If I were young as you, Sixteen,
And you were old as I,
I would not be as I have been,
You would not be so shy—
We should not watch with careless mien
The golden days go by,
If I were young as you, Sixteen,
And you were old as I.
The years of youth are yours, Sixteen;
Such years of old had I,
But time has set his seal between
Dark eyebrow and dark eye.
Sere grow the leaves that once were green,
The song turns to a sigh:
Ah! very young are you, Sixteen,
And very old am I.
Red bloom-times come and go, Sixteen,
With snow-soft feet, but I
Shall be no more as I have been
In times of bloom gone by;
For dimmer grows the pleasant scene
Beneath the pleasant sky;
The world is growing old, Sixteen—
The weary world and I.
Ah, would that once again, Sixteen,
A kissing mouth had I;
The days would gaily go, I ween,
Though death should stand anigh,
If springtime’s green were evergreen,
If Love would never die,
And I were young as you, Sixteen,
And you were old as I.
poem by Victor James Daley
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Illustration Of A Picture
'A SPANISH GIRL IN REVERIE,'
SHE twirled the string of golden beads,
That round her neck was hung,---
My grandsire's gift; the good old man
Loved girls when he was young;
And, bending lightly o'er the cord,
And turning half away,
With something like a youthful sigh,
Thus spoke the maiden gray:--
'Well, one may trail her silken robe,
And bind her locks with pearls,
And one may wreathe the woodland rose
Among her floating curls;
And one may tread the dewy grass,
And one the marble floor,
Nor half-hid bosom heave the less,
Nor broidered corset more!
'Some years ago, a dark-eyed girl
Was sitting in the shade,--
There's something brings her to my mind
In that young dreaming maid,--
And in her hand she held a flower,
A flower, whose speaking hue
Said, in the language of the heart,
'Believe the giver true.'
'And, as she looked upon its leaves,
The maiden made a vow
To wear it when the bridal wreath
Was woven for her brow;
She watched the flower, as, day by day,
The leaflets curled and died;
But he who gave it never came
To claim her for his bride.
'Oh, many a summer's morning glow
Has lent the rose its ray,
And many a winter's drifting snow
Has swept its bloom away;
But she has kept that faithless pledge
To this, her winter hour,
And keeps it still, herself alone,
And wasted like the flower.'
Her pale lip quivered, and the light
Gleamed in her moistening eyes;--
I asked her how she liked the tints
In those Castilian skies?
'She thought them misty,--'t was perhaps
Because she stood too near;'
She turned away, and as she turned
I saw her wipe a tear.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love and Age
I play'd with you 'mid cowslips blowing,
When I was six and you were four;
When garlands weaving, flower-balls throwing,
Were pleasures soon to please no more.
Through groves and meads, o'er grass and heather,
With little playmates, to and fro,
We wander'd hand in hand together;
But that was sixty years ago.
You grew a lovely roseate maiden,
And still our early love was strong;
Still with no care our days were laden,
They glided joyously along;
And I did love you very dearly,
How dearly words want power to show;
I thought your heart was touch'd as nearly;
But that was fifty years ago.
Then other lovers came around you,
Your beauty grew from year to year,
And many a splendid circle found you
The centre of its glimmering sphere.
I saw you then, first vows forsaking,
On rank and wealth your hand bestow;
O, then I thought my heart was breaking!--
But that was forty years ago.
And I lived on, to wed another:
No cause she gave me to repine;
And when I heard you were a mother,
I did not wish the children mine.
My own young flock, in fair progression,
Made up a pleasant Christmas row:
My joy in them was past expression;
But that was thirty years ago.
You grew a matron plump and comely,
You dwelt in fashion's brightest blaze;
My earthly lot was far more homely;
But I too had my festal days.
No merrier eyes have ever glisten'd
Around the hearth-stone's wintry glow,
Than when my youngest child was christen'd;
But that was twenty years ago.
Time pass'd. My eldest girl was married,
And I am now a grandsire gray;
One pet of four years old I've carried
Among the wild-flower'd meads to play.
In our old fields of childish pleasure,
Where now, as then, the cowslips blow,
She fills her basket's ample measure;
And that is not ten years ago.
But though first love's impassion'd blindness
Has pass'd away in colder light,
I still have thought of you with kindness,
And shall do, till our last good-night.
The ever-rolling silent hours
Will bring a time we shall not know,
When our young days of gathering flowers
Will be an hundred years ago.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Circa 1970 And Years Back
those were the years
we were so young
and fit and prim and
prime and so careless
so young, so dumb,
so stupid, so gullible
we are so ashamed
about us in those years
on the other hand we
must also be proud
remembering about
those years those past
days and memories
oh we were so in love
and so free and bursting
in ecstacies exploding!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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18 Years Old
Tomorrow I'm
18 years old
I been waiting for this all my life
I get to do what I want and now I’m free
Live where I want
Do what I never done before
Date who I want to
Chase after my dream
Now I’m young adult and all grown up
I have to be responbility and make right choice
I start getting and understand life
I’m matured young lady
If I get in trouble now
I will go to jail which I will never do
I’m getting ready to be
18 years old
One day I'm going out in this world and face it’s
There is no hiding
I can’t believe this day come already
I been waiting for this day to come
I get to make my own choices now
I’m finally
18 years old
poem by Christina Phan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Years Ago
The light of other days burns dim,
And in the shade is cast,
You'll own I'm right, if you will just
Look back upon the past;
It's glories all are faded,
And each of you must know
That times ain't what they used to be
About two years ago.
Bendigo, you know, my lads,
Was just then in its prime,
And those who happened to be here
Had a most glorious time;
But now its sadly altered,
And things are precious slow,
And times ain't what they used to be
About two years ago.
They opened Golden Gully then,
And we had many a lob,
To see the place so cut up now,
It really makes me sob:
When'eer I pass the fav'rite spot
It fills me full of woe,
Ah! times ain't what they used to was
About two years ago.
Just now look at the difference,
Ah! here's the dreadful rub,
They're washing for two pennyweights
To every blessed tub;
At such a paltry sum as that,
Why, all of us you know
Would have laughed and turned our noses up
About two years ago.
Two years ago, my lads, we used
To take our nuggets down,
Sell the lot, and go and have
A spree in Melbourne town;
We rode about in two-horse cabs,
And made the champagne flow,
And ate bank notes in sandwiches
About two years ago.
A sweetheart, then, on either arm
About the town we'd range,
And buy the dear things cashmere shawls,
And refuse to take the change;
Then to dancers at the theatre
Our nuggest we did throw,
Those were the glorious times, no flies,
About two years ago.
And when we'd quite run out of cash
We'd tramp back every mile,
And go to work again and get
Another tidy pile;
I ask you, can we do it now?
But, echo answers no;
Ah! times ai'nt what they used to was
About two years ago.
But after all, my lads, what use
Is there in vain regret,
No doubt some stunning golden piece
Of ground may turn up yet,
Then keep up all your peckers,
And let your spirits flow,
The good time yet may come again,
Just like two years ago.
poem by Charles Thatcher
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As Years Go By
Tell me how the years go by
Its been a long long time
Tell me how your plans fell through
And how you changed your mind
Tell me bout the hearts you broke
How many have you known
Tell me how the years went by
And left you all alone
Tell me dear
I want to hear
bout the lost and wasted years
Tell me when now tell me why
Tell me how the years go by
Tell me how the years go by
Like borrowed dancing shoes
That gather dust beneath your ned
Mislaid and seldom used
Like a heart that haunts a phone booth
On a corner far from home
Tell me how the years went by and left you
All alone
Close your eyes
Tell me what do you see
Its an imperfect world
Still we dream perfect dreams
Its no big surprise when were down on our knees
Truth isnt always what we will believe.
Tell me how the years go by
In seasons at your door
And how the things you left me for
Dont matter anymore
Tell me how the more we learn
The more we leave unknown
Tell me how the years went by and left you
All alone
Alone
Close your eyes (x3)
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Through The Years
Through the years, there will be laughter and smiles
Pain and sorrow too
But i will be going through it with you
Through the years, there will be road trips and vacations
Excitement and adventure
But the only thing making them enjoyable is because i'll be with you
Through the years there will be love and romance
Dinners and movies
But the only thing keeping the flame lit is our undying passion
Through the years there will be weddings and receptions
Futures and joyous memories too
But I won't forget the time when we said 'I DO'
Through the years there will be new life and happiness
Late nights and early mornings
But as long as we're by each others side, we'll be fine
Through the years there will be scraps and bruises
Band-aids and kisses
But we'll be there to help them up when they fall
Through the years there will be teenage rebellion and loud music
Fights and rough nights
But we said that no matter what happens we'll never leave each other
Through the years there will be sickness and disease
Doctors and medication
But we'll make it
Through the years there will be heartache and tears
Death and grievances
But I will hold your hand and help you through all of lifes fears
Through the years we'll grow gray and old
Our children will have children of their own
But know this, beyond the grave I will always love you
poem by Brandi Young
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Four Years Old
Hey
Why'd you wake me from my nap?
I'm not in the mood
To play your games
Or sit on your lap
You
Where's my Yankees drinking glass?
I want some juice
And I want it now
So you better move your ass
And feel bad for me
'Cuz I'm just getting over a cold
I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
Somebody better tie my shoes!
Now
I run down the hall
I scream and I yell
And I cry 'cuz I fell
Bring the rubbing alcohol
Outside
I get mud on my shoe
I come back in the house
I get it on the rug
The cleanging's up to you
And I won't take a bath
Unless you make me Spaghetti-O's
I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
Mommy reads to me at night
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
Well
I can't have a job
And I can't go to school
If no grownups are around
I can't go near the pool
I'm not alowed to climb
My neighbor's apple tree
I'm not allowed to sit
Too close to the TV
I don't know how to drive
And I don't know how to spell
But if I hear my brother cursing
I do know how to tell
'Cuz he made me eat some bread
That was covered in mold
I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
I just threw up on my grandmother
song performed by by Adam Sandler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Always And Forever
hoo.com
I CANT REMEMBER WHEN YOU WERENT THERE
WHEN I DIDNT CARE FOR ANYONE BUT YOU.
AND I SWEAR WEVE BEEN THROUGH EVERY THING THERE IS
CANT IMAGINE ANYTHING WE MISSED
CANT IMAGINE ANYTHING THE TWO OF US CANT DO.
THROUGH THE YEARS
YOUVE NEVER LET ME DOWN
YOUVE TURNED MY LIFE AROUND
THE SWEETEST DAYS IVE FOUND
I FOUND WITH YOU
THROUGH THE YEARS.
IVE NEVER BEEN AFRAID
I LOVE THE LIFE WEVE MADE,
AND IM SO GLAD I STAYED, RIGHT HERE WITH YOU,
THROUGH THE YEARS.
I CANT REMEMBER, WHAT I USED TO DO
WHO I TRUSTED WHOM ID LISTEN TO BEFORE
I SWEAR, YOU TAUGHT ME EVERYTHING I KNOW
CANT IMAGINE NEEDING SOMEONE SO
THROUGH THE YEARS, IT SEEMS TO ME
I NEED YOU MORE AND MORE,
THROUGH THE YEARS,
THROUGH ALL THE GOOD AND BAD,
I KNOW HOW MUCH WE HAD.
IVE ALWAYS BEEN SO GLAD, TO BE WITH YOU
THROUGH THE YEARS, ITS BETTER EVERYDAY YOUVE KISSED MY TEARS AWAY,
AS LONG AS ITS OK, ILL STAY WITH YOU THROUGH THE YEARS
THROUGH THE YEARS, WHEN EVERYTHING WENT WRONG,
TOGETHER WE WERE STRONG
I KNOW THAT I BELONG RIGHT HERE WITH YOU THROUGH THE YEARS,
I NEVER HAD A DOUBT,
WED ALWAYS WORK THINGS OUT.
IVE LEARNED WHAT LIFES ABOUT,
BY LOVING YOU,
THROUGH THE YEARS
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sorrow
I walked into the park and saw a young man sitting by a flower bed
I asked him why he looked so miserable and this is what he said,
“Sixty years ago I fell in love with a beautiful girl and now she has to die
I knew her time would come one day, but the years have just flashed by.
I knew that it was wrong to love her, but my heart ruled over my head.
I was there when she was born at home and I stood by her mother’s bed.
As the years passed I watched over her, and proposed when she was sixteen.
She was so young and beautiful then, and everyday we lived a dream.
She didn’t know that I was different and I just couldn’t bear to tell her so,
but she had suspicions as her hair greyed, and my age didn’t show.
And now my heart is breaking because I want to die and be with my wife,
without her my life isn’t worth living, and I no longer want this life.
For sixty years life has been wonderful for me and my only true love,
but soon I must take her up and leave her in the heavens above.
I don’t know how I’m going to take the woman I adore from my side.
I’m sorry for sharing my sorrow with you, ” and as he left he cried.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Times
Our Times
13.7 billion years ago
4.5 billion years ago
3.5 billion years ago
200 thousand years ago
10,000 years ago
5000 years ago
3500 years ago
1800 years ago
500 years ago
50 years ago
One hundred years from now
Five hundred years from now
Ten million years from now
Ten billion years from now
We are where we are now
Where are we now?
Who are we now?
What will we be?
When?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Clear She Shines
How clear she shines! How quietly
I lie beneath her guardian light;
While heaven and earth are whispering me,
" Tomorrow, wake, but, dream to-night."
Yes, Fancy, come, my Fairy love!
These throbbing temples softly kiss;
And bend my lonely couch above
And bring me rest, and bring me bliss.
The world is going; dark world, adieu!
Grim world, conceal thee till the day;
The heart, thou canst not all subdue,
Must still resist, if thou delay!
Thy love I will not, will not share;
Thy hatred only wakes a smile;
Thy griefs may wound - thy wrongs may tear,
But, oh, thy lies shall ne'er beguile!
While gazing on the stars that glow
Above me, in that stormless sea,
I long to hope that all the woe
Creation knows, is held in thee!
And, this shall be my dream to-night;
I'll think the heaven of glorious spheres
Is rolling on its course of light
In endless bliss, through endless years;
I'll think, there's not one world above,
Far as these straining eyes can see,
Where Wisdom ever laughed at Love,
Or Virtue crouched to Infamy;
Where, writhing 'neath the strokes of Fate,
The mangled wretch was forced to smile;
To match his patience 'gainst her hate,
His heart rebellious all the while.
Where Pleasure still will lead to wrong,
And helpless Reason warn in vain;
And Truth is weak, and Treachery strong;
And Joy the surest path to Pain;
And Peace, the lethargy of Grief;
And Hope, a phantom of the soul;
And Life, a labour, void and brief;
And Death, the despot of the whole!
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
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I May Have Years To Go
I MAY HAVE YEARS TO GO
I may have years to go-
Many many years
In which I will continue to fail
In the same way
I have failed
In the many more years before.
The truth is
God could give me hundreds of years more
I would still be capable
Only of being myself -
Blessed are those given the gift of greatness by God
And long-troubled those who would be given it
And are not.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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For Years Now
For years now
I have been dreaming about returning home.
For good.
For years now
I have been packing my bags.
in my thoughts.
For years now
I have been going home when I become nostalgic
and to rest from everything.
For years now I have been at home
and I go to London
when I want to bring more life to my life.
poem by Vida Nenadic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Living Picture
No, I'll not say your name. I have said it now,
As you mine, first in childish treble, then
Up through a score and more familiar years
Till baby-voices mock us. Time may come
When your tall sons look down on our white hair,
Amused to hear us call each other thus,
And question us about the old, old days,
The far-off days, the days when we were young.
How distant do they seem, and yet how near!
Now, as I lie and watch you come and go,
With garden basket in your hand; in gown
Just girdled, and brown curls that girl-like fall,
And straw hat flapping in the April breeze,
I could forget this lapse of years--start up
Laughing--'Come, let's go play!'
Well-a-day, friend,
Our play-days are all done.
Still, let us smile:
For as you flit about your garden here
You look like this spring morning: on your lips
An unseen bird sings snatches of gay tunes,
While, an embodied music, moves your step,
Your free, wild, springy step, like Atala's,
Or Pocahontas, careless child o' the sun--
Those Indian beauties I compare you to--
I, still your praiser,--
Nay, nay, I'll not praise,
Fair seemeth fairest, ignorant 't is fair:
That light incredulous laugh is worth a world!
That laugh, with childish echoes.
So then, fade,
Mere dream. Come, true and sweet reality:
Come, dawn of happy wifehood, motherhood,
Ripening to perfect noon! Come, peaceful round
Of simple joys, fond duties, gladsome cares,
When each full hour drops bliss with liberal hand,
Yet leaves to-morrow richer than to-day.
Will you sit here? the grass is summer-warm.
Look at those children making daisy-chains,
So did we too, do you mind? That eldest lad,
He has your very mouth. Yet, you will have 't
His eyes are like his father's? Perhaps so:
They could not be more dark and deep and kind.
Do you know, this hour I have been fancying you
A poet's dream, and almost sighed to think
There was no poet to praise you--
Why, you're flown
After those mad elves in the flower-beds there,
Ha--ha--you're no dream now.
Well, well--so best!
My eyelids droop content o'er moistened eyes:
I would not have you other than you are.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Clear She Shines
How clear she shines! How quietly
I lie beneath her guardian light;
While heaven and earth are whispering me,
'Tomorrow, wake, but, dream to-night.'
Yes, Fancy, come, my Fairy love!
These throbbing temples softly kiss;
And bend my lonely couch above
And bring me rest, and bring me bliss.
The world is going; dark world, adieu!
Grim world, conceal thee till the day;
The heart, thou canst not all subdue,
Must still resist, if thou delay!
Thy love I will not, will not share;
Thy hatred only wakes a smile;
Thy griefs may wound - thy wrongs may tear,
But, oh, thy lies shall ne'er beguile!
While gazing on the stars that glow
Above me, in that stormless sea,
I long to hope that all the woe
Creation knows, is held in thee!
And, this shall be my dream to-night;
I'll think the heaven of glorious spheres
Is rolling on its course of light
In endless bliss, through endless years;
I'll think, there's not one world above,
Far as these straining eyes can see,
Where Wisdom ever laughed at Love,
Or Virtue crouched to Infamy;
Where, writhing 'neath the strokes of Fate,
The mangled wretch was forced to smile;
To match his patience 'gainst her hate,
His heart rebellious all the while.
Where Pleasure still will lead to wrong,
And helpless Reason warn in vain;
And Truth is weak, and Treachery strong;
And Joy the surest path to Pain;
And Peace, the lethargy of Grief;
And Hope, a phantom of the soul;
And Life, a labour, void and brief;
And Death, the despot of the whole!
poem by Emily Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Best Years Of My Life (Album Version)
(Will Jennings/Stephen Allen Davis)
Everytime I feel how life goes by
I recall the scenes that never die
One fine day
One fine night
You loving me
On and on and on
We took our love as far as love can go
You've given me the best years of my life
When I play my memories again
I feel all the pleasure and the pain
Love can hurt
Love can heal
Oh, how we hurt and healed ourselves again
We took our souls as far as souls can go
You've given me the best years of my life
You've given me the best years of my life
Bring on the storm
We'll see it through
We'll take it all
All life can do
Right to the end
We'll say let's begin
You've given me the best years of my life
I wanna thank you
I wanna thank you
You've given me the best years of my life
I wanna thank you
For the best years of my life
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Flower with years
Like a seed
I began in the open firmaments of the heavens
battered by the very elements of nature
to make me strong
in a milieu that
oppresses, dictates, and abuses
but I’ll rise'
like a flower, I bloomed with light’s rays
like a flower, I was groomed by years
like a flower, I unfolded with grace
like a flower, I am the living years
but watch and see'
I’ll be your treasure because of these years
I see me with years -
a cistern that absorbs the days
then
replace them with experiences
a price not paid with a few years
so I murmur not
because of these years
yes
I am these years
but I’ll rise'
like a flower, I bloomed with light’s rays
like a flower, I was groomed by years
like a flower, I unfold with grace
like a flower, I live in years
but watch and see'
I’ll be your treasure because of these years
I’m
crafted in hurt, misery and pain
A price I paid for younger to listen and fear
yet they see this not
yet I’m not perturbed because of these years
but I’ll rise'
like a flower I bloom with light’s rays,
like a flower I groomed by years
like a flower I unfold with grace
like a flower I live in years
but watch and see'
I’ll be your treasure because of these years
poem by Paul Andrew Bourne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young William And Young April
Young William and young April
Met in the park one day.
Young William said to April,
'Why did you come this way? '
Young April said to William,
'I thought I might see you.'
Young William, then to April,
'It's funny, what you do.'
Young April gave to William
A sweet, young childhood kiss.
Young William said to April,
'Don't bother me like this.'
Young April stood in silence,
Not knowing what to do.
Then young William turned away.
Young April, torn in two.
Young William said, 'Don't follow me.'
Away from her he fled.
April then, sat down and cried,
And wished that she was dead.
William never came again.
At least, for many years.
Fearful that young April still,
Might be there shedding tears.
William walked the park again.
It seemed just like before.
Wondering if he might see her.
Young April, there once more.
Young William never noticed.
The roses hid it well.
The place they found Young April.
The place she used to dwell.
poem by Greenwolfe 1962
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