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Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Times is still a-flying And this same flower that smiles today, Tomorrow will be dying.
quote by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Gather Together...
We Gather Together...
We gather together...
...for there is strength in your name
We gather together...
...to rekindle the flame
We gather together...
...Your kingdom we claim
We gather together...
...Your words we proclaim
15 Jan 2008
To Virgins, to Make Much of Time
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And, while ye may, go marry;
For, having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.
poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Last Assembly
As I walked to the last assembly,
There were tears in the back of my eyes,
And I saw all my friends all around me,
They were there to wish me goodbye.
As I stood in a line with my comrades,
I felt such a feeling of pride,
And I forgot all the grief and the hatred inside,
As we sang for the very last time.
Gather round, gather round,
Everybody gather round.
Come and join our last assembly,
Let us smile, wipe away all the frowns.
Gather round, gather round,
Everybody gather round.
As we stood at the last assembly,
All my friends came to wish me goodbye.
Gather round, gather round,
Gather round, gather round,
Everybody gather round.
As I stand at the last assembly,
I just cant keep the tears from my eyes.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gather Ye Rosebuds
Gather ye rosebuds all who will,
and yet, though Time’s a-flying,
in one fair head, eternal still,
Life thrives, Death’s grin denying.
The glorious lamp of Heaven, the Sun,
as higher he is getting,
if e’er his praises were begun -
laws seasonal forgetting -
Go[l]d head embarrassed would be hung
as modesty’s essential,
in beauty all eclipsed are, st[r]ung
like pearls inconsequential.
God praises her, both first and last,
each other flits, - pale phantom, -
she’s envied now by Future, Past,
Life’s summons flows to summum...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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At the River
Shall we gather at the river,
Where bright angel feet have trod,
With its crystal tide for ever flowing
by the throne of God?
Gather at the river!
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river,
Yes well gather at the river
that flows by the throne of God.
Shall we gather? Shall we gather at the river?
poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
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0195 Autumn Gardener
Gathering rosebuds with my rake;
the wooden tines scraping
over the gravel path
bringing a token of order
to the autumn of a life;
rosebuds, nipped at the neck
by frost; dead leaves
curled like begging or covetous hands,
coloured like rich memories, red, orange, brown,
dry husks, spilt seed,
now crisp, eager to surrender to the fire,
its scented smoke curling like a pyre against
a cold blue sky now welcoming
a tidy offering up;
how clean, how sharp the autumn air
darker under the trees
the leaves still wet
limp and flat as hope defeated,
pressed together as
words not meant, or
something missed;
next year the leaves
will remember innocence,
the tree broader, eager,
brown as wisdom tipped with exploratory green.
gathering rosebuds with my rake
the season with its woodsmoke, evocative,
tempting to metaphor, hovering,
a garden of lost meaning;
no longer, this cooling autumn, a construction,
but speaking its own seriousness.
how clean, how sharp the autumn air
scented by surrender
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Springtime
Over the valleys and over the mountains,
Borne on the wings of the south wind I come;
Breaking the ice-chains, unloosing the fountains,
Waking all Nature to beauty and bloom.
Flowers from the green turf in myriads are springing;
Zephyrs are faint with the perfume they bear;
While the voices of Earth, Air, and Ocean are singing,
Hail to the springtime! the youth of the year!
Oh, gather my rosebuds and sport in my bowers,
Children of Earth, while my footsteps I stay.
Wreathe with your garlands my vanishing hours,
Which like life's sunny springtime are passing away.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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MacGregor's Gathering
The moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the brae,
And the Clan has a name that is nameless by day;
Then gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
Gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
Our signal for fight, that from monarchs we drew,
Must be heard but by night in our vengeful haloo!
Then haloo, Grigalach! haloo, Grigalach!
Haloo, haloo, haloo, Grigalach!
Glen Orchy's proud mountains, Coalchuirn and her towers,
Glenstrae and Glenlyon no longer are ours;
We're landless, landless, landless, Grigalach!
Landless, landless, landless, Grigalach!
But doom'd and devoted by vassal and lord,
MacGregor has still both his heart and his sword!
Then courage, courage, courage, Grigalach!
Courage, courage, courage, Grigalach!
If they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles,
Give their roofs to the flame, and their flesh to the eagles!
Then vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Grigalach!
Vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Grigalach!
While there's leaves in the forest, and foam on the river,
MacGregor despite them, shall flourish for ever!
Come then Grigalach, come then Grigalach,
Come then, come then, come then Grigalach!
Through the depths of Loch Katrine the steed shall career,
O'er the peak of Ben Lomond the galley shall steer,
The rocks of Craig-Royston like icicles melt,
Ere our wrongs be forgot, or our vengeance unfelt!
Then gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
Gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Étude Réaliste (excerpts)
A baby's hands, like rosebuds furled
Whence yet no leaf expands,
Ope if you touch, though close upcurled,
A baby's hands.
Then, fast as warriors grip their brands
When battle's bolt is hurled,
They close, clenched hard like tightening bands.
No rosebuds yet by dawn impearled
Match, even in loveliest lands,
The sweetest flowers in all the world--
A baby's hands.
III
A baby's eyes, ere speech begin,
Ere lips learn words or sighs,
Bless all things bright enough to win
A baby's eyes.
Love, while the sweet thing laughs and lies,
And sleep flows out and in,
Sees perfect in them Paradise.
Their glance might cast out pain and sin,
Their speech make dumb the wise,
By mute glad godhead felt within
A baby's eyes.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Beautiful River
And he showed me a pure River of Water of Life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the Throne of God and of the Lamb." -- Rev. xxii. 1
Shall we gather at the river
Where bright angel feet have trod;
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?
CHORUS.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
On the margin of the river,
Washing up its silver spray,
We will walk and worship ever,
All the happy, golden day.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
On the bosom of the river,
Where the Saviour-king we own,
We shall meet, and sorrow never
'Neath the glory of the throne. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
Ere we reach the shining river,
Lay we every burden down;
Grace our spirits will deliver,
And provide a robe and crown. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
At the smiling of the river,
Rippling with the Saviour's face,
Saints, whom death will never sever,
Lift their songs of saving grace. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
Soon we'll reach the shining river,
Soon our pilgrimage will cease,
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
With the melody of peace. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
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Innocence Sublime
The rosebuds
have a pink blush
but open snow white
fluttering petals
like little peace doves
before taking flight.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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The Sundowner.
So He will at the last, too, gather all,
As in the bush a traveller for his fire
Sticks and dry leaves, as eerie the light fades;
Till from those sticks and leaves there comes a flame,
Beside which in a weird infinity
The man will sit and gather lonely thoughts.
So He will at the last, too, gather all,
The great Sundowner in a painless sphere.
poem by Robert Crawford
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Harvest For The World
Gather everyman, gather everywoman
Celebrate your lives, give thanks for your children
When will there be a harvest for all the people
When will there be a harvest for all the world
Harvest For The World
All babies together, everyone a seed
Half of us are satisfied, half of us in need
Love's bountiful in us, tarnished by our greed
When will there be a harvest for the world
A nation planted, so concerned with gain
As the seasons come and go, greater grows the pain
And far too many feelin' the strain
When will there be a harvest for the world
Gather everyman, gather everywoman
Celebrate your lives, give thanks for your children
Gather everyone, gather all together
Overlooking none, hopin' life gets better for the world
Dress me up for battle, when all I want is peace
Those of us who pay the price, come home with the least
Nation after nation, turning into beast
When will there be a harvest for the world
song performed by by Isley Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Coronal
WITH HIS SONGS AND HER DAYS TO HIS LADY AND TO LOVE
Violets and leaves of vine,
Into a frail, fair wreath
We gather and entwine:
A wreath for Love to wear,
Fragrant as his own breath,
To crown his brow divine,
All day till night is near.
Violets and leaves of vine
We gather and entwine.
Violets and leaves of vine
For Love that lives a day,
We gather and entwine.
All day till Love is dead,
Till eve falls, cold and gray,
These blossoms, yours and mine,
Love wears upon his head,
Violets and leaves of vine
We gather and entwine.
Violets and leaves of vine,
For Love when poor Love dies
We gather and entwine.
This wreath that lives a day
Over his pale, cold eyes,
Kissed shut by Proserpine,
At set of sun we lay:
Violets and leaves of vine
We gather and entwine.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Etude Realiste
A Baby's feet, like sea-shells pink,
Might tempt, should heaven see meet,
An angel's lips to kiss, we think,
A baby's feet.
Like rose-hued sea-flowers toward the heat
They stretch and spread and wink
Their ten soft buds that part and meet.
No flower-bells that expand and shrink
Gleam half so heavenly sweet
As shine on life's untrodden brink
A baby's feet.
II.
A baby's hands, like rosebuds furled
Whence yet no leaf expands,
Ope if you touch, though close upcurled,
A baby's hands.
Then, fast as warriors grip their brands
When battle's bolt is hurled,
They close, clenched hard like tightening bands.
No rosebuds yet by dawn impearled
Match, even in loveliest lands,
The sweetest flowers in all the world -
A baby's hands.
III.
A baby's eyes, ere speech begin,
Ere lips learn words or sighs,
Bless all things bright enough to win
A baby's eyes.
Love, while the sweet thing laughs and lies,
And sleep flows out and in,
Sees perfect in them Paradise.
Their glance might cast out pain and sin,
Their speech make dumb the wise,
By mute glad godhead felt within
A baby's eyes.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Gathering
Watching the birds gather
in the sky before they roost.
They gather in great numbers
for their final arial display
near the closing of the day.
They swirl around in large circles
gathering more and more
as they fly calling to one another
before they settle for the day.
18 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Everybody Must Get Stoned?
Dylan said it (wrote it, sang it)
“Everybody must get stoned”
Yes
alright
I find there is
no doubt about
how it happens with
a degree of regularity
Yet I do not readily see
how it substantially benefits me
to run out to the nearest quarry
just to gather ammunition
that would be better
left to gather
moss
poem by Mary Havran
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Protesting In The Nonsense Called Denial
Like it to accept or not,
But those sharing deceits...
Are people of equal mentalities.
To gather together to make claims of being neglected.
And those looking for physical differences,
To live one step above the other...
Forget,
On which common soil...
There is a placing of similar footsteps.
With the going through the same process.
To gather together to make claims of being neglected.
And to make accusations they do,
That are seen to be reflected and familiar...
Only upsets the ones refusing to see themselves.
And those who refuse to see themselves,
Are all over the place...
Protesting in the nonsense called denial.
And...
To gather together to make claims of being neglected.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Runes of Weland's Sword
1906
A smith makes me
To betray my Man
In my first fight.
To gather Gold
At the world's end
I am sent.
The Gold I gather
Comes into England
Out of deep Water.
Like a shining Fish
Then it descends
Into deep Water.
It is not given
For goods or gear,
But for The Thing.
The Gold I gather
A King covets
For an ill use
The Gold I gather
Is drawn up
Out of deep Water.
Like a shining Fish
Then it descends
Into deep Water.
It is not given
For goods or gear,
But for The Thing.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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