As it fell upon a day in the merry month of May, sitting in a pleasant shade which a grove of myrtles made.
quote by Richard Barnfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Nightingale
As it fell upon a day
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of myrtles made,
Beasts did leap and birds did sing,
Trees did grow and plants did spring;
Every thing did banish moan,
Save the nightingale alone.
She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn
And there sung the doleful'st ditty,
That to hear it was great pity.
Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry,
Teru, teru, by and by;
That to hear her so complain,
Scarce I could from tears refrain;
For her griefs so lively shown
Made me think upon mine own.
Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain;
None takes pity on thy pain;
Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee;
Ruthless bears, they will not cheer thee;
King Pandion, he is dead,
All thy friends are lapp'd in lead;
All thy fellow birds do sing,
Careless of thy sorrowing;
Whilst as fickle fortune smil'd,
Thou and I were both beguil'd.
Every one that flatters thee
Is no friend in misery:
Words are easy, like the wind,
Faithful friends are hard to find;
Every man will be thy friend
Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend,
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want.
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call;
And with such-like flattering
Pity but he were a king.
If he be addict to vice,
Quickly him they will entice;
If to women he be bent,
They have at commandëment;
But if fortune once do frown,
Then farewell his great renown;
They that fawn'd on him before
Use his company no more.
He that is thy friend indeed
He will help thee in thy need:
If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If thou wake, he cannot sleep;
Thus of every grief, in heart,
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flatt'ring foe.
poem by Richard Barnfield
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Ode
As it fell upon a day
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of myrtles made,
Beasts did leap and birds did sing,
Trees did grow and plants did spring;
Every thing did banish moan,
Save the nightingale alone.
She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn
And there sung the doleful'st ditty,
That to hear it was great pity.
Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry,
Teru, teru, by and by;
That to hear her so complain,
Scarce I could from tears refrain;
For her griefs so lively shown
Made me think upon mine own.
Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain;
None takes pity on thy pain;
Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee;
Ruthless bears, they will not cheer thee;
King Pandion, he is dead,
All thy friends are lapp'd in lead;
All thy fellow birds do sing,
Careless of thy sorrowing;
Whilst as fickle fortune smil'd,
Thou and I were both beguil'd.
Every one that flatters thee
Is no friend in misery:
Words are easy, like the wind,
Faithful friends are hard to find;
Every man will be thy friend
Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend,
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want.
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call;
And with such-like flattering
Pity but he were a king.
If he be addict to vice,
Quickly him they will entice;
If to women he be bent,
They have at commandëment;
But if fortune once do frown,
Then farewell his great renown;
They that fawn'd on him before
Use his company no more.
He that is thy friend indeed
He will help thee in thy need:
If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If thou wake, he cannot sleep;
Thus of every grief, in heart,
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flatt'ring foe.
poem by Richard Barnfield
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ash Grove
Half of the grove stood dead, and those that yet lived made
Little more than the dead ones made of shade.
If they led to a house, long before they had seen its fall:
But they welcomed me; I was glad without cause and delayed.
Scarce a hundred paces under the trees was the interval -
Paces each sweeter than the sweetest miles - but nothing at all,
Not even the spirits of memory and fear with restless wing,
Could climb down in to molest me over the wall
That I passed through at either end without noticing.
And now an ash grove far from those hills can bring
The same tranquillity in which I wander a ghost
With a ghostly gladness, as if I heard a girl sing
The song of the Ash Grove soft as love uncrossed,
And then in a crowd or in distance it were lost,
But the moment unveiled something unwilling to die
And I had what I most desired, without search or desert or cost.
poem by Edward Thomas
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Gardens are not made by sitting in the shade.
quote by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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J-Love In Our Ages Love In Stages
In the first month
Love was tentative
Love was laughter
Love was ecstasy
In the second month
Love made questions
Love made laughter
Love made richness
In the third month
Love gave friendship
Love gave laughter
Love gave family
In the fourth month
Love became promise
Love became laughter
Love became spring
In the fifth month
Love grew flowers
Love grew laughter
Love grew deeper
June 2,1997
poem by Marjorie DeBol DeFazio
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The Merry month of May
O THE month of May, the merry month of May,
So frolic, so gay, and so green, so green, so green!
O, and then did I unto my true love say,
Sweet Peg, thou shalt be my Summer's Queen.
Now the nightingale, the pretty nightingale,
The sweetest singer in all the forest quire,
Entreats thee, sweet Peggy, to hear thy true love's tale:
Lo, yonder she sitteth, her breast against a brier.
But O, I spy the cuckoo, the cuckoo, the cuckoo;
See where she sitteth; come away, my joy:
Come away, I prithee, I do not like the cuckoo
Should sing where my Peggy and I kiss and toy.
O, the month of May, the merry month of May,
So frolic, so gay, and so green, so green, so green;
And then did I unto my true love say,
Sweet Peg, thou shalt be my Summer's Queen
poem by Thomas Dekker
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Croquet by Moonlight
On a moonlight evening, in the month of May,
A number of young people were playing at croquet,
They mingled together, the bashful with the gay,
And had a pleasant time and chat, while playing at croquet.
CHORUS:
This play they call croquet, croquet,
This play they call croquet,
It is amusement for the young,
This play they call croquet.
On that pleasant evening, the moon shone clear and bright,
And every heart among that crowd was filed with great delight.
It was a merry party, for lady Dell was there
Her merry laugh above the rest was heard by all, so fair.
CHORUS: This play, etc.
She was the belle that evening, admired by great and small,
And all the boys liked to play with the girl and blue ball.
She was a splendid player, so lively and so gay,
For she was skilled in playing that pleasant game croquet.
CHORUS: This play, etc.
Two young men among them, that loved this pretty Dell;
Although I write about them, their names I will not tell.
They were fine young fellows, so bashful, and yet so gay;
They tried to beat the girl that with the blue ball play.
CHORUS: This play, etc.
Ah! with those handsome fellows, Dell thought she'd have some fun,
"The one of you that'll catch me, may see me safely home."
The play began in earnest, between those fine young men,
To catch the girl with the blue ball, was impossible for them.
CHORUS: This play, etc.
She went around the play-ground, so full of life and gay,
She left them at the farther arch, so she beat them at croquet.
It was late that evening, and as I went away,
I know not how they came out, in that pleasant game, croquet.
CHORUS: This play, etc.
So croquet by moonlight is pleasant, as you see,
For business cares were laid aside, in that little company.
So playing at croquet, croquet, so playing at croquet,
It is amusement for the young folks, this play of croquet.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Huckleberry Grove
Shirley was a lady whose teeth were made of gold
She danced before the music and everything it told
Huckleberry Grove
Where the music plays into tomorrow night
Huckleberry Grove
Only fools would need to argue or to fight
Shirley had eight children and each of them were told
You got joy for singing burning in your soul
Huckleberry Grove
Where the idiots can't ease you of your mind
Huckleberry Grove
Take a free train
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene from B-Sides: Seasides & Freerides
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Merry-Go-Round
Merry-go-round, merry-go-round,
Up in the sky.
Merry-go-round, merry-go-round,
Soars me high!
Breeze rustles,
cloud's castles,
Roam round and round!
I shriek in false fear,
Seeing the thing near,
which I never have found.
Merry-go-round, merry-go-round,
Brings the fun to me,
Merry-go-round, merry-go-round,
Fills mind with glee!
Moving round, round,
Touching the ground,
Almost kisses the sky.
Merry-go-round, merry-go-round,
Takes me up in the high!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Transformation Scene
A plain building was removed to a pleasant grove, and in a
few weeks it was transformed into the neatest frame
building in town.
As westward we of late did rove
We beheld in the maple grove
An old church now owned by Peter ;
In town there is no house looks neater,
For those bay windows do look sweeter
Than anything in prose or meter.
poem by James McIntyre
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Gardens are not made by singing 'Oh, how beautiful,' and sitting in the shade.
quote by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Barbara Allen's Cruelty
IN Scarlet town, where I was born,
There was a fair maid dwellin',
Made every youth cry Well-a-way!
Her name was Barbara Allen.
All in the merry month of May,
When green buds they were swellin',
Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay,
For love of Barbara Allen.
He sent his man in to her then,
To the town where she was dwellin',
'O haste and come to my master dear,
If your name be Barbara Allen.'
So slowly, slowly rase she up,
And slowly she came nigh him,
And when she drew the curtain by--
'Young man, I think you're dyin'.'
'O it 's I am sick and very very sick,
And it 's all for Barbara Allen.'
'O the better for me ye'se never be,
Tho' your heart's blood were a-spillin'!
'O dinna ye mind, young man,' says she,
'When the red wine ye were fillin',
That ye made the healths go round and round,
And slighted Barbara Allen?'
He turn'd his face unto the wall,
And death was with him dealin':
'Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,
And be kind to Barbara Allen!'
As she was walking o'er the fields,
She heard the dead-bell knellin';
And every jow the dead-bell gave
Cried 'Woe to Barbara Allen.'
'O mother, mother, make my bed,
O make it saft and narrow:
My love has died for me to-day,
I'll die for him to-morrow.
'Farewell,' she said, 'ye virgins all,
And shun the fault I fell in:
Henceforth take warning by the fall
Of cruel Barbara Allen.'
Here Lies The Blithe Spring
HERE lies the blithe Spring,
Who first taught birds to sing,
Yet in April herself fell a-crying:
Then May growing hot,
A sweating sickness she got,
And the first of June lay a-dying.
Yet no month can say,
But her merry daughter May
Stuck her coffins with flowers great plenty:
The cuckoo sung in verse
An epitaph o'er her hearse,
But assure you the lines were not dainty.
poem by Thomas Dekker
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A Glorious Gown of Glimmering Gold
A glorious gown of glimmering gold
Encompasses one luminary globe
Against the sky of this still grove
The crickets moan in baritone
Their cellos serenade my soul
In a glorious gown of glimmering gold
Against the sky of this still grove
The light of fireflies erodes
One’s seemingly inert ego
Yet silhouettes still seem to show
The night is more than what’s foretold-
Against the sky of this still grove.
Though man is made in manifold-
He is among the truly whole-
A glorious gown of glimmering gold
Against the sky of this still grove.
poem by Lazarus Knix
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July....
July is the month where the families get the barbeque grills fired up.
July is the month where the night sky is light up with fire works.
July is the month where many families go out of town to be with family.
July is the month where many kids are dreary because it’s a month away for school.
July is the month where America gets to celebrate its independence from England.
July is the month where many people are dying of the heat of the summer.
July is my favorite month because it’s the time that I get to be myself around my family.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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Merry Christmas, Baby
My baby she told me
She dont want to hold me (oh, no!)
And kiss my lips anymore (unh-unh!)
Shes gonna leave me
And she dont believe me
That Ill be true now
Well maybe she dont love me
And is not thinkin of me
But whyd she do it this time of year?
She knows that Ill miss her
And Ill want to kiss her
If just for christmas
Merry christmas, baby
Merry christmas, baby
Merry christmas, baby
Tell me, what did I do
To really convince you
That Im not the guy anymore?
Take back my ring now
Ill do anything now
But please forgive me
I made my mistake but
Im willing to wake up
And never mess around anymore
Oh why did we break up?
Theres still time to make up
If just for christmas
Merry christmas, baby
Merry christmas, baby
Merry christmas, baby
I made my mistake but
Im willing to wake up
And never mess around anymore
Oh why did we break up?
Theres still time to make up
If just for christmas
Merry christmas, baby
Merry christmas, baby
Merry christmas, baby
Merry christmas, baby
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sitting In My Room
Sitting in my room
Record player on
Sitting in my room
humming a sickening tune
Sitting in my room
Something to do soon
We know what we think of them
the problems just keep piling in
They got complains about everything
It's us against them
It's us against them
It's us against them
They just wanna worry
that's not what any kid
should have to do
They just wanna be so lame
Maybe they should
try and sniff some glue
song performed by by Ramones from Pleasant Dreams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pregnancy
You planted this seed in me
You nurtured and helped it grow
You shaped and molded it from head to toe
You watched it grow through the different stages
Month by month and day by day
Not knowing what you were forming
Or should I say you didn't care
You would leave me starving
Which left my baby malnourished
Shortly after it was time for my baby to be delivered
I started feeling the pains at night
Something felt strange, it just didn't seem right
I called you once again to help me
Once again you were not there
So I had to deliver this baby alone
This baby you planted in me
Month by month and day by day
You said that you'd be home today
I guess you're not
So I will deliver without you
Might not be a pleasant sight
Lots of blood and pain
Here it comes
Screaming from the pain
It hurts
Why aren't you here
The baby is now here
Look how unique it is
I shall call my baby Revenge
poem by Tonette Copes
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An Old Man Wants Life To Be Pleasant
An old man wants life to be pleasant
He does not want to know too much
About the wars and conflicts of the world
He does not want to hear too much noise
He does not want to hear people argue
And know about other peoples quarrels
He wants life to be pleasant
He knows he will not save the world
The others will have to do that
He has done what he has done
And done it for a long time
It has made little difference
And what else he can do will make less-
He wants life to be pleasant-
Without disturbances and disorders
Without too many demands upon himself
Quiet
Able to do his own things
Not bothered
To sit at home when he wants
And walks when he wants
And talk with his wife when they both are at peace
Not to hear and know about all the problems even his own
To be pleasant
To be peaceful
Even if inside he knows its going wrong
Even if there is the pain
He wants it to be pleasant
For as long as it can be
Before its not.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I; july guy; her october
I; july guy
Her october
I love the month
I love her.
October is full of life.
Mine july is of heat.
She gives me relief.
Thus I survive october.
For me, she is precious.
More than the month.
No wonder I merry her.
As she was born in october.
poem by Vizard Dhawan
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