While there's nothing to do in April, let out the herd to pasture with all the sheep.
Related quotes
A Society of Grazing Sheep
The herd meanders, searching for the green
Pastures that hide past distant mountaintops.
They're a society of grazing sheep.
The herd looks down, ignoring what they've seen.
They're too busy chewing grass to stop.
They're a society of grazing sheep.
The herd wanders only to convene
In the pursuit of inhaling more crops.
They're a society of grazing sheep.
They don't yet realize that hungry eyes
Guide them—that wolves are hiding in disguise.
They're a society of grazing sheep.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Sleepless
How many sheep have jumped the fence
as I lie in bed wide-awake?
More than the wooly herd like things
be allowed for goodness sake.
I'm waiting for that black sheep to jump
and give my eyes a break.
But I guess he's lost within the herd
for I find I'm still wake.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Sheep and Lambs
All in the April evening,
April airs were abroad;
The sheep with their little lambs
Passed me by on the road.
The sheep with their little lambs
Passed me by on the road;
All in the April evening
I thought on the Lamb of God.
The lambs were weary and crying
With a weak, human cry.
I thought on the Lamb of God
Going meekly to die.
Up in the blue, blue mountains
Dewy pastures are sweet;
Rest for the little bodies,
Rest for the little feet.
But for the Lamb of God,
Up on the hill-top green,
Only a Cross of shame
Two stark crosses between.
All in the April evening,
April airs were abroad;
I saw the sheep with their lambs,
And thought on the Lamb of God.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Sleep Of Spring
O for that sweet, untroubled rest
That poets oft have sung!--
The babe upon its mother's breast,
The bird upon its young,
The heart asleep without a pain--
When shall I know that sleep again?
When shall I be as I have been
Upon my mother's breast
Sweet Nature's garb of verdant green
To woo to perfect rest--
Love in the meadow, field, and glen,
And in my native wilds again?
The sheep within the fallow field,
The herd upon the green,
The larks that in the thistle shield,
And pipe from morn to e'en--
O for the pasture, fields, and fen!
When shall I see such rest again?
I love the weeds along the fen,
More sweet than garden flowers,
For freedom haunts the humble glen
That blest my happiest hours.
Here prison injures health and me:
I love sweet freedom and the free.
The crows upon the swelling hills,
The cows upon the lea,
Sheep feeding by the pasture rills,
Are ever dear to me,
Because sweet freedom is their mate,
While I am lone and desolate.
I loved the winds when I was young,
When life was dear to me;
I loved the song which Nature sung,
Endearing liberty;
I loved the wood, the vale, the stream,
For there my boyhood used to dream.
There even toil itself was play;
Twas pleasure een to weep;
Twas joy to think of dreams by day,
The beautiful of sleep.
When shall I see the wood and plain,
And dream those happy dreams again?
poem by John Clare
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April, Dear April
April, dear April, I beg you come soon –
And bring your sweet primroses too.
Let them join in with the daffodils’ play,
As skies offer sunshine anew.
April, dear April, my blessed spring child,
Ornate in your yellow and white,
Teasing the birds into trilling their songs
And dancing to music of flight.
April, dear April, come enter my dreams
And rid me from cold winter chills.
Banish the rain and those blustery winds
And warm up our countryside hills.
April, dear April, I know you can’t stay -
You have to move on ‘till next year.
And though I shall cherish the glory of summer,
You’ll always be my month most dear.
From: Succumbed to Thinking by Mark Raymond Slaughter, lulu.com
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved
April April April April
April April April April
April April April April
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Theatre Of The Absurd
All of us are born ignorant and some
Of us remain that way I’m sad to say.
The knowledgeable flourish and become
The shepherds, the dumb just piddle away
Their lives like sheep in a grassy pasture.
The ignorance in our society
Exists through our own design I am sure
To guarantee an apt propriety.
Without the sheep there can be no shepherds
Therefore a symbiotic relation
Plays in the theater of the absurd.
There's no appropriate explanation.
Don’t even attempt to state a notion.
Our roles are predetermined one by one.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Equity. Both the sheep and the wolf enjoy the same right of common pasture.
aphorism by Valeriu Butulescu from Immensity of the Point, translated by Eva A. Ziem
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The herd instinct among forecasters makes sheep look like independent thinkers.
quote by Edgar R. Fiedler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Storm
Did the white lightening strikes, alarm you?
Was the Thunders plowing, too deep?
Breaking, near to the sound barrier
And bleaching, the wool, of our Black Sheep.
The pasture laid down, with burned edges
The water piled, in puddles, near to town
But the storms ravaging fever
Would not, in any way, come down.
Nothing to do to appease it
But perhaps, caress its weary brow
Biding our time 'til it's full recovery
The sheep, bleached white, in the barn,
Are safe now.
poem by Theodora Onken
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Yes, there is a Nirvanah; it is leading your sheep to a green pasture, and in putting your child to sleep, and in writing the last line of your poem.
quote by Kahlil Gibran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yes, there is a Nirvanah; it is leading your sheep to a green pasture, and in putting your child to sleep, and in writing the last line of your poem.
quote by Kahlil Gibran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shepherds
Sheep are kept by a shepherd.
Cows are kept by a cowherd.
Men too want to be a herd.
So crop up many shepherds.
14.03.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Home Thoughts from Abroad
April in England–daffodils are growing
By every wayside, golden, tall and fair;
April–and all the little winds are blowing
The scents of springtime through the sunny air.
April in England–God, that we were there!
April in England–and her sons are lying
On these red fields, and dreaming of her shore;
April–we hear the thrushes' songs replying
Each unto each, above the cannons' roar;
April in England–shall we see it more?
April in England–there's the cuckoo calling
Down in her meadows where the cowslip gleams;
April–and little showers are softly falling,
Dimpling the surface of her babbling streams;
April in England–how the shrapnel screams!
April in England–blood and dust and smother,
Screaming of horses, men in agony.
April–full many of thy sons, O Mother,
Never again those dewy dawns shall see.
April in England–God, keep England free!
poem by Norah M. Holland
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Always Marry An April Girl
Praise the spells and bless the charms,
I found April in my arms.
April golden, April cloudy,
Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;
April soft in flowered languor,
April cold with sudden anger,
Ever changing, ever true --
I love April, I love you.
poem by Ogden Nash
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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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A dead cow or sheep lying in a pasture is recognized as carrion. The same sort of a carcass dressed and hung up in a butcher's stall passes as food.
quote by John Harvey Kellogg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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APRIL and a FOOL
APRIL and a FOOL
April’s Fool day
Preceded her
April Fool’s day
by just one “fool”;
ME
That day before
I had a Life,
the next day
I had a wife;
SHE.
As April’s Fool
on April One
I said we do
and thus began
the fun.
Smiling impatiently
The Fools of April One,
‘SHE’ and ‘ME’
Became a
‘WE’ …
April Fool …
I’m single still!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Rhey W. Hedges, April 1,2007
poem by Rhey W. Hedges
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We herd sheep, we drive cattle, we lead people. Lead me, follow me, or get out of my way.
quote by George S. Patton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr. Sheep
Golly, mister, where you going? you'll be late for work careful or you'll drop your briefcase jesus, what a jerk there he goes down to the subway off to catch the train too bad for him he forgot
Umbrella poor mr. sheep you're wet mr. sheep walk on, mr. sheep walk on tell me, how's your little family? how's your little wife? are you going to live with these monsters for the rest of your
Maybe you got a little girlfriend stashed somewhere in town may be you ain't got a little girlfriend ha ha ha ha ha poor mr. sheep he's a lonely guy too walk on mr. sheep walk on dance, mister!
He's doin' ok oh, oh oh, he's all right let him get up by himself now i don't want to be too rough and i don't want to be too mean you're right - this world is awful tough i know exactly what y
An but i want you to know exactly how i feel and to tell you the truth right now i feel like going i feel like going baa baa mr. sheep careful, you're walking all over your own self now walk on,
Sheep walk on, mr. sheep walk
On, mr. sheep walk on
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A soft dropping April brings milk to cows and sheep.