Dryad Song
When the wolds of Lycaeus are silvery fair,
When Maenalian forests are doubtful and dim,
When the hound strains the leash and the wolf quits his lair,
And the startled fawn flies from the fountain's cool rim;
When with panting delight we impatiently follow
The shuddering stags over hillock and hollow,—
A form from the shadows comes bounding out,
And we know it is Pan by his horrid shout.
A form from the shadows comes bounding out,
At head of the Satyrs' impetuous rout,
And we know it is Pan, we know it is Pan,
We know it is Pan by his horrid shout!
When hidden with Dian in deep woodland bower,
We loosen her quiver, her sandals unbind,
Bathe her beautiful feet in the pearl-trickling shower,
Pellucid and pure; when we deftly enwind
The silvery fillet that clasps and caresses
The wonder and wealth of her shadowy tresses,—
A face through the pleachèd blooms stealthily peers,
And we know it is Pan by his furry ears.
A face through the pleachèd blooms stealthily peers,
Makes mouths to affright us, then mocks at our fears,
And we know it is Pan, we know it is Pan,
We know it is Pan by his furry ears!
When, shunning the shafts of Apollo at noon,
To the kindly green coverts we thankfully creep,
Athirst for fresh runnels, and ready to swoon,—
Oft, sudden we come to one fallen asleep:
Fallen asleep midst the tangles and grasses
That trip up the confident clown as he passes,
And fearful we peep at the form supine,
For we know it is Pan, though he makes no sign.
And fearful we peep at the form supine,
With the hoofs of a goat and the brow divine,
For we know it is Pan, we know it is Pan,
We know it is Pan, though he makes no sign!
When the shepherds are gone from the sunset hills,
When evening is mildest in dingle and dale,
Through the hush comes a sound that enraptures and thrills,
Light wafted along on the tremulous gale:
So passionate-sweet, so wildly out-welling,
That Landon hears it with bosom swelling.
We listen and sigh,—sigh and listen again,
For we know it is Pan by that melting strain!
We listen and sigh,—sigh and listen again,
While the lithe reeds quiver as if in pain,—
For we know it is Pan, we know it is Pan,
We know it is Pan by that melting strain!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Listen To The Sunset
Listen to the sunset,
Hear its silent sigh
As it falls down the horisen
Warning, the moon is nigh
Listen to the sunset
Hear its silent threat
That darkness will be upon us
It makes everyone upset
Listen to the sunset
The vanity of its words
How beautiful this sunset is
With its colour, and birds
Listen to the sunset
See its pretty hue
But I cant enjoy the sunset
If I am not with you
All the pretty colours are meaningless
So are the birds, and the sounds
Because it all means nothing to me
If you are not around
Just remember this though,
Promise you wont forget,
Even if your far away,
We'll be watching the same sunset
So listen to the sunset
Enjoy its beauty true
When you see it, think of me
And I will think of you
poem by Katniss Everdeen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Listen To The Sunset
Listen to the sunset,
Hear its silent sigh
As it falls down the horizon
Warning, the moon is nigh
Listen to the sunset
Hear its silent threat
That darkness will be upon us
It makes everyone upset
Listen to the sunset
The vanity of its words
How beautiful this sunset is
With its color, and birds
poem by Virgil Narbon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nobody nowhere
He sleeps with her now, he kisses her brow,
they chatter and laugh and linger at day break
but when old fears awaken, making him scream
there's nobody nowhere who knows him like me.
I know from a look, from a sigh, from a stir,
I can see in his heart and I know much, much more
For I lived his nightmares and suffered his schemes
and there's nobody nowhere who knows him like me.
She looks kind of lost, kind of foxed, kind of scared
as she scurries about sifting through his affairs
and as sunshine makes shadows and moonlight appears
she'll look in my eyes to decipher his fears.
A touch of my hand, a glance at my face,
he catches my eyes as his nightmares give chase
and I watch and I wait and my heart aches to know
if he needs me more now than he ever dare show.
For I know from a look, form a sigh, from a stir
and I see very clearly, far clearer than her
and though they make love and he thinks that he's free
there's nobody nowhere who knows him like me.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Listen To The Rain
(Rain)
Listen listen
Listen listen
Listen listen
Listen listen
Listen (listen) listen (listen)
Listen (listen) listen (listen)
Listen (listen) listen (listen)
Listen listen
Listen to each drop of rain (listen listen)
Aaah
Whispering secrets in rain (listen listen)
Aaah
Frantically searching for someone to hear
That story be more than it hides
Please don't let go
Can't we stay for a while?
It's just to hard to say goodbye
Listen to the rain
Aa...ah
Listen listen listen listen listen listen to the rain
Weeping
Oo...ooh oooh ooh oo...ooh
Oo...ooh oooh oh oh
Listen (listen) listen (listen)
Listen (listen) listen
I stand alone in the storm (listen listen)
Suddenly sweet words take hold
(Listen listen)
Hurry they stay for you haven't much time
Open your eyes to the love around you
You can feel youre alone
But I'm here still with you
You can do what you dream
Just remember to listen to the rain
oo...ooh oh oh oh oh
ooh ooh oh oh oooh
Listen
song performed by by Evanescence
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Listen!
Listen!
Can't you hear them?
You don't know what your missing
A birds chirp, a Bees hum.
Listen!
Can't you hear them?
Children's laughter hark!
Playing In the park.
Listen!
Can't you hear them?
A lovers sigh
Never to deny.
Listen!
Can't you hear them?
Old folk words
Wisdom and life's tales
Listen!
Can't you hear me?
Heart crying
Soul flying
Listen!
poem by Robert Green
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Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
Then down the dells, with blown soft hair and bright,
And through the dim wood Dian threads her way.
With water-weeds twined in their locks of gold
The strange cold forest-fairies dance in glee,
Sylphs over-timorous and over-bold
Haunt the dark hollows where the dwarf may be,
The wild red dwarf, the nixies' enemy;
Then 'mid their mirth, and laughter, and affright,
The sudden Goddess enters, tall and white,
With one long sigh for summers pass'd away;
The swift feet tear the ivy nets outright
And through the dim wood Dian threads her way.
She gleans her silvan trophies; down the wold
She hears the sobbing of the stags that flee
Mixed with the music of the hunting roll'd,
But her delight is all in archery,
And naught of ruth and pity wotteth she
More than her hounds that follow on the flight;
The goddess draws a golden bow of might
And thick she rains the gentle shafts that slay.
She tosses loose her locks upon the night,
And through the dim wood Dian threads her way.
ENVOY.
Prince, let us leave the din, the dust, the spite,
The gloom and glare of towns, the plague, the blight:
Amid the forest leaves and fountain spray
There is the mystic home of our delight,
And through the dim wood Dian threads her way.
poem by Andrew Lang
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Night
Earth! thou art lovely, when the sinking sun
Hath bathed the clouds in his departing flush,
And, with the moon-lit evening, hath begun
The voiceless, and yet spirit-calming hush,
That thrills around the heart, till tear-drops rush,
Unbidden and uncall'd for, to the eye;
When, save the music of the fountain's gush,
Or the far wailing of the night-bird's cry,
Unbroken silence hangs o'er earth, and wave, and sky.
But now the majesty of midnight storm
Is gathering, in its grandeur, o'er the sky;
The deep black clouds in mustering squadrons form,
And the low, fitful blast, that passes by,
Hath a strange fearful thrilling—like the sigh
Of a sick slumberer; even that hath died,
And in their quiet sleep the waters lie,
As though the winds ne'er curl'd them in its pride,
Or shook the still bent leaves that hang above the tide.
How steadily that ebon mass moves on!
Stretching across the sky in one dark line,
Like a huge wall of blackness; there do none
Of the thin silvery vapours hang supine,
Or those bright clouds that sometimes seem to twine
A coronal to grace the brow of night;
Stars in Orion's studded baldric shine,
In all their wonted brightness; and the light
Of an unclouded moon half dims the dazzled sight.
The tempest hurries onward—how the flash
Of the red lightning leaps from cloud to cloud!
The gathering thunder bursts in one wild crash,
And sinks a moment—then, returning loud,
Seems bounding o'er the sky, as if 't were proud
Of its own potency. We need not now,
A sharer in the thoughts that round us crowd;
The soul is its own world, and the deep glow
Of the rapt spirit seeks no fellowship below.
The wildness of the storm hath pass'd; the rain
Drips from the wet leaves only, and the sky,
With its deep azure beauty, gleams again
Through the rent clouds; the sunken wind swells by,
With a low sobbing; and the clouds, heap'd high,
With the rich moonbeams’ streaming flood of light
Pour'd full upon them, swell before the eye
Like distant snow-clad mountains. Night! O night!
Thou art most glorious! most beautifully bright!
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Listen To Music
Listen to music
To change your mood
A fast beat
May make you shrewd
Listen to music
Just to relax
A melodious one
May freeze you as wax
Listen to music
Out of some passion
A slow beat
May keep you from tension
Listen to music
With a fresh cool breeze
A divine rythm
May keep you in peace
Listen to music
To keep doctors away
A classic tune
May keep your ail at bay
Listen to music
When your mind goes dull
A Rehman's composition
May cheer you up well
Listen to music
Just before you sleep
A bethoven's melody
May make your's deep
Listen to music
When your worries attack you
Then see those worries
Running out of view
Listen to music
When you turn as a angry hound
Your favourite beat
May cool you down
Listen to music
But when time says ''no''
Sing a song
And live so long
poem by Abinaya Saravanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The White Wido
The moon comes every night to peep
Through the window where I lie,
And I pretend to be asleep;
But I watch the moon as it goes by,
And it never makes a sound.
It stands and stares, and then it goes
To the house that's next to me,
Stealing on its tippy-toes,
To peep at folk asleep maybe;
And it never makes a sound.
poem by James Stephens
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Listen To The Sunset
Listen to the sunset
Can you hear it's quiet sigh?
Listen the sun is falling
Watch it toning down the sky
Soon darkness shall surround me
Though twinkling stars will dare shine through
While you are far away from me
They'll frown a humble hue.
And as the sunset spreads its colours
Horizons of gold and red
I lie here all too much alone
In this great vast, chilling bed.
For my world has stopped revolving
Until you return, time's standing still
And the cold has settled round me
With its stinging breathless chill.
But my love for you keeps growing
Standing fast to fight the cold
Reminds me of your body's warmth
And the story of love untold.
So, listen to the sunset
Look up, hear it's quiet sigh
Though we're alone these solemn nights
My love whispers across the sky.
poem by Zac Plague
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The War
There is a sound of thunder afar,
Storm in the south that darkens the day,
Storm of battle and thunder of war,
Well, if it do not roll our way.
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Be not deaf to the sound that warns!
Be not gull'd by a despot's plea!
Are figs of thistles or grapes of thorns?
How should a despot set men free?
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Let your Reforms for a moment go,
Look to your butts and make good aims.
Better a rotten borough or so,
Than a rotten fleet or a city of flames!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Form, be ready to do or die!
Form in freedom's name and the Queen's!
True, that we have a faithful ally,
But only the devil knows what he means!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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The Last Picasso
Words and music by neil diamond
The last picasso, the last picasso was just acquired by some old museum, and don quixote, well don quixote the old mans rhyme has lost its reason; which only reminds me have I remembered to say that without you this life of plenty, would seem so empty, the last picasso. oh me and you--me oh me oh me oh me and you-- we, we can sigh--me oh me oh me oh me oh we can sigh. the last picasso, the last picasso may gather dust amid the ruins, and don quixote, well don quixote may no longer make his wishful tunes; but I still have you and I will have you when evrything else is gone and done with. well be like one with the last picasso. oh me and you--me oh me oh me oh me oh me and you-- we, we can sigh--me oh me oh me oh me oh we can sigh. oh, me and you--me oh me oh me oh me oh me and you-- we, we can sigh--me oh me oh me oh me oh we can sigh. oh, me and you--we we can sigh me oh me oh me oh we can sign. oh, me and you.
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet I
ON SEEING THE BUST OF THE YOUNG PRINCESS DE MONTFORT
(In the studio of Bartolini, at Florence).
SWEET marble I didst thou merely represent,
In lieu of her on whom our glances rest,
Some common loveliness,--we were content,
As with a modell'd beauty, well express'd;
But, by the very skill which makes thee seem
So like HER bright and intellectual face,
The heart is led unsatisfied to dream;
For sculpture cannot give the breathing grace,
The light which plays beneath that shadowy brow,
Like sunshine on the fountains of the south,--
The blush which tints that cheek with roseate glow,--
The smile which hovers round that angel-mouth:
No! such the form o'er which Pygmalion sigh'd--
Too fair to be complete while SOUL was still denied!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Interlude
Shadows and light pervade the room. Clothes fall to the floor, cool breeze caresses skin. Fan humming its soothing distraction, cool air whispers over her as she slides between cool white sheets, aroma of lavender lulls her.
Muted sunlight, sheer pink curtains fan out in the breeze as trees softly sigh.and move in unseen currents. She tranquil, at harmony with this flawless afternoon.
The drone of a wasp the fragrance of honeysuckle and iris blend with lavender; delicate purple blooms displayed in an old Ball jar.
A murmur and a sigh floating as one with the joyful birds of spring.
poem by Carole Jensen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Change The World?
do you know what
will really change the world?
when we learn how to listen...
not just with our ears,
but with our minds,
with our hearts,
with eyes that have seen,
and known...
and so can see
our selves in others!
listen...
with compassion...
without condemnation,
or judgement.
with silence,
no need to correct,
or give advice.
with our hands,
open and willing to help.
with our feet,
ready to walk beside!
to listen...
as if to the sound
of our own hearts beating...
to listen,
and to understand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Water In The Sky
Listen as she speaks to you
Hear the voices flutter through
The barriers arranged by you
Close the shudders draw the shades
Filter out the everglades
Glistening with evening dew
Thunder calls through waterfalls
Rising tides and ocean walls
I can hear you when you sigh
Listen as she speaks to you
Hear the voices flutter through
Watch them fall and let them lie
I can hear you when you sigh
Through the water in the sky
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be still, but be in vigour.
Listen.
The winds of change blow at your feet.
Listen.
They call your name and feed your heart.
Listen.
They tell you what you want and more,
listen.
Just stop, and listen.
They know you,
truly,
and they are simply here to show you the way.
They know the quivering child who fears the world who resides inside your soul.
Listen.
They bring you no harm, so
listen.
Listen and just be glad.
Your angels have come to take you home.
An Old Picture
THERE are times when a dream delicious
Steals into a musing hour,
Like a face with love capricious
That peeps from a woodland bower;
And one dear scene comes changeless;
A wooded hill and a river;
A deep, cool bend, where the lilies end,
And the elm-tree shadows quiver.
And I lie on the brink there, dreaming
That the life I live is a dream;
That the real is but the seeming,
And the true is the sun-flecked stream.
Beneath me, the perch and the bream sail past
In the dim cool depths of the river;
The struggling fly breaks the mirrored sky
And the elm-tree shadows quiver.
There are voices of children away on the hill;
There are bees thro' the flag-flowers humming;
The lighter-man calls to the lock, and the mill
On the farther side is drumming.
And I sink to sleep in my dream of a dream,
In the grass by the brink of a river,
Where the voices blend and the lilies end
And the elm-tree shadows quiver.
Like a gift from the past is the kindly dream,
For the sorrow and passion and pain
Are adrift like the leaves on the breast of the stream,
And the child-life comes again.
O, the sweet sweet pain of a joy that died—
Of a pain that is joy forever!
O, the life that died in the stormy tide
That was once my sun-flecked river.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Birthday Present
```Say what, to please you, you would have me be.''
Then listen, dear!
I fain would have you very fair to see,
And sweet to hear.
`You should have Aphrodite's form and face,
With Dian's tread;
And something of Minerva's lofty grace
Should crown your head.
`Summer should wander in your voice, and Spring
Gleam in your gaze,
And pure thoughts ripen in your heart that bring
Calm Autumn days.
`Yours should be winning ways that make Love live,
And ne'er grow old,
With ever something yet more sweet to give,
Which you withhold.
`You should have generous hopes that can beguile
Life's doubts and fears,
And, ever waiting on your April smile,
The gift of tears.
`You should be close to us as earth and sea,
And yet as far
As Heaven itself. In sooth, I'd have you be
Just what you are.'
poem by Alfred Austin
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Why Can't You Listen?
Why can't you listen?
Why can't you hear words from Me?
Why can't you sit and just be...
To listen.
Listen.
Why can't you listen?
Why can't you hear words from Me?
Why can't you sit and just be...
To listen.
Listen.
Why do you call Me?
Why do you say you're alone?
You wish for Me to appear.
And yet when I'M near.
Your closed ears wont hear Me!
Why do you pray to Me?
Master I Am of your World.
I'M with you there silently.
But you will not see...
Everything that is Me!
One I Am and only One!
Maker of your Moon, Stars and Sun.
All things on Earth that is there...
Is there if you ask,
But your faith does not last!
Why can't you listen?
Why can't you hear words from Me?
Why can't you sit and just be...
To listen.
Listen.
Why do you call Me?
Why do you say you're alone?
You wish for Me to appear.
And yet when I'M near.
Your closed ears wont hear.
A word.
Why can't you listen?
Why can't you hear words from Me?
Why can't you sit and just be...
To listen to Me.
Listen...
And let Me in!
'Father...
Clear my mind of these obstacles! '
I'M trying!
But you wish it 'your' way.
And not the way MY way is.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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