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The Way Through the Woods
They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again,
And now you would never know
There was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees.
It is underneath the coppice and heath,
And the thin anemones.
Only the keeper sees
That, where the ring-dove broods,
And the badgers roll at ease,
There was once a road through the woods.
Yet, if you enter the woods
Of a summer evening late,
When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
Where the otter whistles his mate.
(They fear not men in the woods,
Because they see so few)
You will hear the beat of a horse's feet,
And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
Steadily cantering through
The misty solitudes,
As though they perfectly knew
The old lost road through the woods. . . .
But there is no road through the woods.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The lonely woods
In the lonely woods do I roam,
I get a good glimpse of everything,
when I walk through the lonely woods, and a sad song I sing.
I see a pretty bird's wing,
so beautiful, so shiny, like that of a silver ring.
I walk near a small stream,
and when I am tired, I stop near it, sleep and dream.
All around me is silence, there is no hatred and there is no violence.
this is what I like in the woods, the lonely woods,
so silent, so calm,
to me, the trees, and the animals, there is no harm,
this is the lonely woods.
poem by Savio Vogt
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The Woods
My sorrow lives in the woods.
I cannot complain to anyone.
I must bear it to the woods
in the deepest loneliness.
If ever in future times
someone comes for that reason
he can find in the woods
the shy sorrow of my heart.
When he sees far off in the woods,
alone and quiet,
the deepest shadows lying,
that is my somber sorrow
poem by James Comerford
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A Ballad Of The Trees And The Master
Into the woods my Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent.
Into the woods my Master came,
Forspent with love and shame.
But the olives they were not blind to Him,
The little gray leaves were kind to Him:
The thorn-tree had a mind to Him
When into the woods He came.
Out of the woods my Master went,
And He was well content.
Out of the woods my Master came,
Content with death and shame.
When Death and Shame would woo Him last,
From under the trees they drew Him last:
'Twas on a tree they slew Him -- last
When out of the woods He came.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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The Lonely Woods
in the lonely woods i'm lost
surrounded by shards of frost
is there a path i haven't crossed?
no. yet in the lonely woods i'm lost
in the lonely woods at night
trapped and locked up in deep fright
no movement, no heat and no light
just the sound of my breath in the lonely
woods
poem by Jonathan Fabianski
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The Green Woods Of Truagh
In the green woods of Truagh we met without fear,
Your kiss on my lips, and your voice in my ear,
Your tender arms about me, and your eyes glad and clear–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!
In the green woods of Truagh the days go on wings,
On every brown branch a gladsome bird sings
And the fragrant amber blossom of the honey-suckle swings–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!
In the green woods of Truagh the bracken stands high,
And wells of spring-water in deep hollows lie,
And the red deer is browsing in the cool shadows nigh–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!
In the green woods of Truagh no sorrow dared stay,
The lark called me early at dawn o' the day,
And o'er my sleep at night pleasant dreams used to play–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!
In the green woods of Truagh you wait till I come–
I left home and you for the stranger's far home,
To bring a hoard of yellow gold across the grey foam–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!
In the green woods of Truagh–if God hears my prayer–
I shall reach you, O true love, my empty hands there,
For little of the yellow gold has fallen to my share–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!
In the green woods of Truagh–your heart on my own,
And your bright hair in ringlets across my cheek blown
Now where in all the wide, wide world, could greater bliss be known?
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!
poem by Anna Johnston MacManus
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Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
Robert Frost in Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Through the branch net [Prin a ramurilor mreajă]
Through the branch net, all along,
One can hear a charming song
Fondling all the ears that lie
By the linden old and high...
Through the leaves, when dies the day,
Tries the moon to make its way,
It's so beautiful and bright
And sheds down its gleams of light.
Start the trumpets to sound soon;
As the disk of the sweet moon
Passes over glades and trees,
Trumpet notes flow with much ease.
The green woods will answer then
And my soul gets lost again,
Grieved, but also filled with grace,
When I think of your nice face.
And the birds will sing above
Showing all their care and love,
Chirping in the woods and thus
Laughing at or... pitying us.
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
poem by Robert Frost
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The Road Never To Be Taken
I stand by a descending road
That runs down to some dark woods unseen before
And I see no other pedestrian passing by.
As I look on I see a few foot prints running down
None returning from there though.
I stand confounded and confined there.
I have just come out only a few yards
And none knows whether I have come out of my home at all.
Many think I am inside it lost in slumber.
The road is not that easy to travel
Though I can`t sleep like ever before.
They think I ever sleep and never travel.
The dark woods let out a strange cry.
It reaches the skies and reverberates unto my ears
And I begin to retreat.
The ghost of the lucky poet haunts me
As I can never tell the story of the road not taken.
My road was laid by someone cruel!
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mystic Sojourn
Away from the din of the city
In the deep woods
You hear, you feel, you see
That for which you longed so long
This happens so
Because the din you know.
Eden without Satan
With eagle's eyes plays hide and seek
They stretch to achieve the best
Struggle, but with a difference
A difference best known to them
Hey, tread with care
Look
Where?
There where you do not care,
A careless step
May stop the symbiotic process
Gently,
Touch, touch the stone
Yes, yes you will feel the mystic tone
Close your ears
To hear the spiritual song
Shut your eyes
The moksha path you will find
Away, away from the din of city
In the deep woods.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Luxury Of Silence...
in the luxury of our silence
we still refuse to spend a word
for that is the irony of
luxury of the rich
when they have more in words
they keep them well
always having second thoughts
releasing them into air
or woods
or into the comforting numbness of
the listening ears
of the mob
or the
other people
which
Sartre had long defined
as hell....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Setting The Woods On Fire
Comb your hair and paint and powder
You act proud and Ill act prouder
You sing loud and Ill sing louder
Tonight were setting the woods on fire
You my gal and Im your feller
Dress up in your frock of yeller
Ill look swell but youll look sweller
Setting the woods on fire
Well take in all the honkey tonks
Tonihgt were having fun
Well show the folks a brand new dance
That never has been done
I dont care who thinks were silly
You be daffy and Ill be dilly
Well order up to bowls of chili
Setting the woods on fire
Ill gas up my hot rod stocker
Well get hotter than a poker
Youll be broke but Ill be broker
Tonight were setting the woods on fire
Well sit close to one another
Up the one street and down the other
Well have a time o brother
Setting the woods on fire
Well put aside a little time
To fix a flat or two
My tires and tubes are doing fine
But the air is showing through
You clap hands and Ill start bowing
Well do all the laws allowin
Tomorrow Ill be right back plowing
Setting the woods on fire
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Settin The Woods On Fire
Comb your hair and paint and powder
You act proud and Ill act prouder
You sing loud and Ill sing louder
Tonight were setting the woods on fire
You my gal and Im your feller
Dress up in your frock of yeller
Ill look swell but youll look sweller
Setting the woods on fire
Well take in all the honkey tonks
Tonihgt were having fun
Well show the folks a brand new dance
That never has been done
I dont care who thinks were silly
You be daffy and Ill be dilly
Well order up to bowls of chili
Setting the woods on fire
Ill gas up my hot rod stocker
Well get hotter than a poker
Youll be broke but Ill be broker
Tonight were setting the woods on fire
Well sit close to one another
Up the one street and down the other
Well have a time o brother
Setting the woods on fire
Well put aside a little time
To fix a flat or two
My tires and tubes are doing fine
But the air is showing through
You clap hands and Ill start bowing
Well do all the laws allowin
Tomorrow Ill be right back plowing
Setting the woods on fire
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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