Thine eyes are springs in whose serene And silent waters heaven is seen. Their lashes are the herbs that look On their young figures in the brook.
quote by William C. Bryant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh Fairest of the Rural Maids
Oh fairest of the rural maids!
Thy birth was in the forest shades;
Green boughs, and glimpses of the sky,
Were all that met thy infant eye.
Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child,
Were ever in the sylvan wild;
And all the beauty of the place
Is in thy heart and on thy face.
The twilight of the trees and rocks
Is in the light shade of thy locks;
Thy step is as the wind, that weaves
Its playful way among the leaves.
Thine eyes are springs, in whose serene
And silent waters heaven is seen;
Their lashes are the herbs that look
On their young figures in the brook.
The forest depths, by foot unpressed,
Are not more sinless than thy breast;
The holy peace, that fills the air
Of those calm solitudes, is there.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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Beautiful Bashful Eyes
Big beautiful bashful eyes
with lashes oh so long
I love your beautiful bashful eyes.
They remind me of a song.,
a song to describe their color
and their lids that are half closed.
They never let me see behind them.
What they're feeling is never exposed.
Big beautiful bashful eyes
are lost in timid intent.
I wish for them to open wide
to see where they have spent
their shy-retiring gazes?
Were they ever looking my way?
Or were they lost in silent thought
afraid that they might stray
And find that all around you
eyes would be looking your way?
My eyes would be among them
and you would hear me say.
'Big beautiful bashful eyes
with lashes oh so long
you've captivated my attention
and are now the words to my song.
'Beautiful eyes, bashful and blue
my thoughts are lost in you.
Your lashes long, your lids dreamy-eyed,
no one can tell what secrets they hide.
I have secrets my eyes hide too.
They're all about my feelings for you.
Those bashful eyes have become for me
everything that I dreamed they would be.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Hemlock Tree. (From The German)
O Hemlock tree! O hemlock tree! how faithful are thy branches!
Green not alone in summer time,
But in the winter's frost and rime!
O hemlock tree! O hemlock tree! how faithful are thy branches!
O maiden fair! O maiden fair! how faithless is thy bosom!
To love me in prosperity,
And leave me in adversity!
O maiden fair! O maiden fair! how faithless is thy bosom!
The nightingale, the nightingale, thou tak'st for thine example!
So long as summer laughs she sings,
But in the autumn spreads her wings!
The nightingale, the nightingale, thou tak'st for thine example!
The meadow brook, the meadow brook, is mirroro f thy falsehood!
It flows so long as falls the rain,
In drought its springs soon dry again.
The meadow brook, the meadow brook, is mirror of thy falsehood!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Spa (Hot Springs)
In the spa city of Hot Springs
Old maids sit in trolley cars
Up and down the busy streets
Young men strum on blue guitars
In the spa city of Hot Springs
Pilgrims gather at the sump
To fill their homely samovars
With rusty liquid from a pump
In the spa city of Hot Springs
Sidewalk touts hawk lemonade
In the park policemen wink
At winos on the promenade
In the spa city of Hot Springs
Artist hacks in residence
Paint the sun on velvet, black
For kings and former presidents
In the spa city of Hot Springs
Chinese men play dominos
In rooms where on another day
A tart pulls on her pantyhose
In the spa city of Hot Springs
Healing waters tip the pail
As ponies gather at the gate
To chase each other’s pony tail.
poem by Alan Hickman
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Poem I
If in this glorious fate I shall die
Maybe this moment I’ll stand and cry
To watch myself in its sadly end
That I do not know how, where and when
Ne’er have I known if there’s a dawn to wait
Nor expect the sun to brighten my gait
Will there be a moon to conceal me?
Or a star to guide me to heaven?
And if I die not on time
Thine be my eyes to heaven
Galloping my soul in the eyes of a raven
Though silent but magnificent
Have me condoled in a piece of love
And warmth my wings as I fly above
poem by Antonio Ramon
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Sonnet: We Can See God
The Sun looks like Thine heart afilled with joy;
0 God, the Rain is like Thine compassion;
The Moon appears like Thine face as when coy;
The Galaxies are like divine Mansion.
The quadrillion stars look like Heaven's eyes;
The thunder seems to be Thine angry voice;
The Lightning is Thine pow'r of sample size,
The songs of birds akin Thine happy noise.
The verdure spring looks like Thine beauteous face;
The winter cold is Thine heart's discontent;
The summer’s yield is sign of Thine own pace;
The autumn’s wind appears to be Thine vent.
The earth is footstool for Thine lovely feet;
Thine Replica is Mother Nature sweet.
poem by John Celes
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Night Litany
O Dieu, purifiez nos cceurs!
Purifiez nos coeurs !
Yea the lines hast thou laid unto me
in pleasant places,
And the beauty of this thy Venice
hast thou shown unto me
Until is its loveliness become unto me
a thing of tears.
O God, what great kindness
have we done in times past
and forgotten it,
That thou givest this wonder unto us,
O God of waters?
O God of the night,
What great sorrow
Cometh unto us,
That thou thus repayest us
Before the time of its coming?
O God of silence,
Purifiez nos cœurs,
Purifiez nos cœurs,
For we have seen
The glory of the shadow of the
likeness of thine handmaid,
Yea, the glory of the shadow
of thy Beauty hath walked
Upon the shadow of the waters
In this thy Venice.
And before the holiness
Of the shadow of thy handmaid
Have I hidden mine eyes,
O God of waters.
O God of silence,
Purifiez nos cœurs,
Purifiez nos cœurs,
O God of waters,
make clean our hearts within us,
For I have seen the
Shadow of this thy Venice
Floating upon the waters,
And thy stars
Have seen this thing, out of their far courses
Have they seen this thing,
O God of waters,
Even as are thy stars
Silent unto us in their far-coursing,
Even so is mine heart
become silent within me.
Purifiez nos cœurs,
O God of the silence,
Purifiez nos cœurs,
O God of waters.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Sonnet: Solitude
‘Wabi’ in art, thy name is Solitude!
That gives artists, the mind’s calm to create;
Whereby, emotions get a serene mood,
And poets lament on the poor earth’s fate.
O Solitude, praised be thine attitude!
In thine waters, the poet tries to wade,
To pick a pearl, precious and in good mood,
Studding with it, the necklace that he made.
O Solitude, when mind is in my heart,
I count its every beat before I sleep;
In ecstasy, lullabied by my art
And joyful tears within my eyes, I weep.
O Solitude, if not for thee, I can’t
Play on my Lute, action Harp and chant.
poem by John Celes
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Song. YES ....though we've loved so long
YES ....though we've loved so long, so well,
Imperious duty bids us part;
But though thy breast with anguish swell,
A pang more lasting tears my heart.
My grief is dumb,....loquacious thine,
The mournful hoard I sacred keep;
Thou seekest crowds, alone I pine;
My eyes are dry, but thine can weep.
Then, whatsoe'er thy lips have vowed,
A truer sorrow sways my soul;
For shallow streams run bright and loud,
Deep waters darkly silent roll.
poem by Amelia Opie
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My Springs
In the heart of the Hills of Life, I know
Two springs that with unbroken flow
Forever pour their lucent streams
Into my soul's far Lake of Dreams.
Not larger than two eyes, they lie
Beneath the many-changing sky
And mirror all of life and time,
-- Serene and dainty pantomime.
Shot through with lights of stars and dawns,
And shadowed sweet by ferns and fawns,
-- Thus heaven and earth together vie
Their shining depths to sanctify.
Always when the large Form of Love
Is hid by storms that rage above,
I gaze in my two springs and see
Love in his very verity.
Always when Faith with stifling stress
Of grief hath died in bitterness,
I gaze in my two springs and see
A Faith that smiles immortally.
Always when Charity and Hope,
In darkness bounden, feebly grope,
I gaze in my two springs and see
A Light that sets my captives free.
Always, when Art on perverse wing
Flies where I cannot hear him sing,
I gaze in my two springs and see
A charm that brings him back to me.
When Labor faints, and Glory fails,
And coy Reward in sighs exhales,
I gaze in my two springs and see
Attainment full and heavenly.
O Love, O Wife, thine eyes are they,
-- My springs from out whose shining gray
Issue the sweet celestial streams
That feed my life's bright Lake of Dreams.
Oval and large and passion-pure
And gray and wise and honor-sure;
Soft as a dying violet-breath
Yet calmly unafraid of death;
Thronged, like two dove-cotes of gray doves,
With wife's and mother's and poor-folk's loves,
And home-loves and high glory-loves
And science-loves and story-loves,
And loves for all that God and man
In art and nature make or plan,
And lady-loves for spidery lace
And broideries and supple grace
And diamonds and the whole sweet round
Of littles that large life compound,
And loves for God and God's bare truth,
And loves for Magdalen and Ruth,
Dear eyes, dear eyes and rare complete --
Being heavenly-sweet and earthly-sweet,
-- I marvel that God made you mine,
For when He frowns, 'tis then ye shine!
poem by Sidney Lanier
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My sister's eyes
when i see my sister's eyes
which is full of depth of shy
sometime black and some time brown
which deceive to the others eyes
lashes have their own attitude
which makes jealous to the others eyes
right mole grow her beauty more
which attract to the others eyes
when a deluge comes her eyes
it makes me flood because of her beauty eyes
bundle of flowers made jealous
when it captivate to the others eyes
when she see to the sky
rain comes fast to touch her eyes
when someone attract to her eyes
lashes censure to the others eyes
that's the beauty of my sister's eyes
if i write it more nature feel inferior to see her beauty eyes
poem by Bushra Soomro
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Waiting
Serene, I fold my hands and wait
Nor care for wind, or tide, or sea;
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,
For lo! my own shall come to me.
I stay my haste, I make delays,
For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
And what is mine shall know my face.
Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The friends I seek are seeking me;
No wind can drive my hark astray,
Nor change the tide of destiny.
What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it has sown,
And garner up its fruit of tears.
The waters know their own and draw
The brook that springs in yonder height,
So flows the good with equal law
Unto the soul of pure delight.
The stars come nightly to the sky;
The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
Can keep my own away from me.
poem by John Burroughs (1876)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Brown Eyes
Oh, brown Eyes with long black lashes,
Young brown Eyes,
Depths of night from which there flashes
Lightning as of summer skies,
Beautiful brown Eyes!
In your veiled mysterious splendour
Passion lies
Sleeping, but with sudden tender
Dreams that fill with vague surmise
Beautiful brown Eyes.
All my soul, with yearning shaken,
Asks in sighs--
Who will see your heart awaken,
Love's divine sunrise
In those young brown Eyes?
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Thine Eyes I Wear
Hidden beneath your immense stare
Is thine soul exquisite, refined and rare
Fluid and chilly as a streaming river
Your look, your soul, makes mine shiver
Under thine eyes, thy raiment I wear
The look of love, thine ardent glare
Attractive to thee like the embers of fire
What is that thou sincerely admire?
Is it thine own eyes I wear?
Is it thine eyes that attract thy own stare?
When thou look I change into you
For in thine look, thy love I accrue
Always look at me with that beautiful glare
And thine look, thine eyes, I will proudly wear.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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The Old House
In through the porch and up the silent stair;
Little is changed, I know so well the ways;--
Here, the dead came to meet me; it was there
The dream was dreamed in unforgotten days.
But who is this that hurries on before,
A flitting shade the brooding shades among?--
She turned,--I saw her face,--O God, it wore
The face I used to wear when I was young!
I thought my spirit and my heart were tamed
To deadness; dead the pangs that agonise.
The old grief springs to choke me,--I am shamed
Before that little ghost with eager eyes.
O turn away, let her not see, not know!
How should she bear it, how should understand?
O hasten down the stairway, haste and go,
And leave her dreaming in the silent land.
Sea Caves
Your garlic and sage roses
Your half moon sea
The waters rise like an oak tree
Boughs of pure crystal joy
Blue gray soul of seraphim eyes
Now the sea showers the shore
I am the hidden man
Golden treasures in caves
I hear the tide go in and out
We search for real dreams
Islands maroon the heart
Protons and neutrons in balance
Man asleep waiting to see her eyes
Woman knowing she is love
These kelp shores wait for you
I long to hold you in the moonlight
Your smile silent as morning
Seagulls soar with freedom
All the walls have crumbled
We share the serene stars of peace
Mystic warm waters surround
Topaz blended with sapphire
Violet touch amidst lime green
Clouds sigh like satin prose
These sea caves fill with your love
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Summer Wind
It is a sultry day; the sun has drank
The dew that lay upon the morning grass,
There is no rustling in the lofty elm
That canopies my dwelling, and its shade
Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint
And interrupted murmur of the bee,
Settling on the sick flowers, and then again
Instantly on the wing. The plants around
Feel the too potent fervors; the tall maize
Rolls up its long green leaves; the clover droops
Its tender foliage, and declines its blooms.
But far in the fierce sunshine tower the hills,
With all their growth of woods, silent and stern,
As if the scortching heat and dazzling light
Were but an element they loved. Bright clouds,
Motionless pillars of the brazen heaven;--
Their bases on the mountains--their white tops
Shining in the far ether--fire the air
With a reflected radiance, and make turn
The gazer's eye away. For me, I lie
Languidly in the shade, where the thick turf,
Yet virgin from the kisses of the sun,
Retains some freshness, and I woo the wind
That still delays its coming. Why so slow,
Gentle and voluble spirit of the air?
Oh, come and breathe upon the fainting earth
Coolness and life. Is it that in his caves
He hears me? See, on yonder woody ridge,
The pine is bending his proud top, and now,
Among the nearer groves, chesnut and oak
Are tossing their green boughs about. He comes!
Lo, where the grassy meadow runs in wives!
The deep distressful silence of the scene
Breaks up with mingling of unnumbered sounds
And universal motion. He is come,
Shaking a shower of blossoms from the shrubs,
And bearing on the fragrance; and he brings
Music of birds, and rustling of young boughs,
And soun of swaying branches, and the voice
Of distant waterfalls. All the green herbs
Are stirring in his breath; a thousand flowers,
By the road-side and the borders of the brook,
Nod gaily to each other; glossy leaves
Are twinkling in the sun, as if the dew
Were on them yet, and silver waters break
Into small waves and sparkle as he comes.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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My heart shall be thy garden
My heart shall be thy garden. Come, my own,
Into thy garden; thine be happy hours
Among my fairest thoughts, my tallest flowers,
From root to crowning petal, thine alone.
Thine is the place from where the seeds are sown
Up to the sky inclosed, with all its showers.
But ah, the birds, the birds! Who shall build bowers
To keep these thine? O friend, the birds have flown.
For as these come and go, and quit our pine
To follow the sweet season, or, new-corners,
Sing one song only from our alder-trees,
My heart has thoughts, which, though thine eyes hold mine.
Flit to the silent world and other summers,
With wings that dip beyond the silver seas.
poem by Alice Meynell
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Poetic Waters
behold this vast lake
silent serene waters
moonlight shimmers
upon life ephemeral
crystal cut wavelets
crystal wavelets dance
whisper in moonlit breeze
breeze blow cool upon
warm flesh homage perceiving
perceiving wisdom in vast
depth shimmer creative waters
in dawn’s yellow finger
light fresh beauty focus shapes
depth colour light touch
sound scent stir movement
life springs forth creates
creation dawn serenade
smell scent rhythm fresh
before hot overhead noon sun
time bestows eyes philosophy
divinity mind dream wakes
cast a pebble
upon surface
light reflective waters
watch time
spread wave rings
spread forth uniform
wave ripples spread forth
harmonic embrace minds
pebble sinks
deep embrace
welcomed by
wisdom’s waters
pebble rough
or smooth
passed on
seen in
third eye
memory
pebble or rock
shaped perception
is ever gone
seen no more
passage enfolds
enlightenment
shape formatic embraces
review rapid ripples harmonic
contemplate message symmetry
singer sing songs freeborn
on breeze string stir vibrations
remember
wisdom encoded
words
singer rock
are seen no more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Lost Paradise
Swat, Dwelling of the scented and angelic souls
A land which once a country dear
now passing through turmoil years
Where health and beauty cheer and craze
how often her charm was praise,
thy snowy hills and rosy land.
The never failing brooks and smiling springs,
the enchanting breeze and the lovely scene,
People call it heaven on the land.
But I tell you now.......
They were thy charms and all are fled,
By divine writ thy luxury cursed,
Those lovely hours once thy pride
Now lust and lies instead abide.
Rivers serene storm in anger,
Sky hills blooded and danger
The Lands trodden by armies' dark
Guns roar with a question mark
The highland lass looks for lover
Arrest a glance of head cut lower,
Where dusk terrifies and hurting dawn
and the starry sky wailing and wane,
Oh Never step into this fairyland
Sages are quiet and the young abstain
O! Pray to have our serenity again
Good Heaven!
What sorrows gloomed that parting regime
Nightmare reigns our lovely dreams
and shatters the hearts serene.
To whom I blame,
Soldiers of the god…..?
Or soldiers of Land
Let hail the shedding blood
of the innocent being,
they are suffered but never complain,
but say a coral in melancholy strains,
No beauty adorns thy fairy eyes,
truth decay and false arise.
O, tears from the depth of divine despair
Rise in the heart and gather in the fear
But my faith never disappear
Has vision that dazzles my eyes
And behold a lost paradise.
poem by Gulsher john
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