In Memoriam A. H. H.: 15. To-night the winds begin to rise
To-night the winds begin to rise
And roar from yonder dropping day:
The last red leaf is whirl'd away,
The rooks are blown about the skies;
The forest crack'd, the waters curl'd,
The cattle huddled on the lea;
And wildly dash'd on tower and tree
The sunbeam strikes along the world:
And but for fancies, which aver
That all thy motions gently pass
Athwart a plane of molten glass,
I scarce could brook the strain and stir
That makes the barren branches loud;
And but for fear it is not so,
The wild unrest that lives in woe
Would dote and pore on yonder cloud
That rises upward always higher,
And onward drags a labouring breast,
And topples round the dreary west,
A looming bastion fringed with fire.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Wild Blue Yonder
If you need a prison break
I will be the file in the cake
We will make a great escape
Into the wild blue yonder
If you need to chase the blues
I will be your running shoes
Well double back and leave no clues
Into the wild blue yonder
Chorus
Into the wild blue yonder
Where we can be free
Into the wild blue yonder
Im takin you with me
If you need to fight for love
I will be your boxing gloves
Cheering crowds will lift us up
Into the wild blue yonder
Chorus
If you need someone to care
If life is treating you unfair
Take my love Ill lead you there
Into the wild blue yonder
Into the wild blue yonder
song performed by by Diamond Rio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home
How brightly glistening in the sun
The woodland ivy plays!
While yonder beeches from their barks
Reflect his silver rays.
That sun surveys a lovely scene
From softly smiling skies;
And wildly through unnumbered trees
The wind of winter sighs:
Now loud, it thunders o'er my head,
And now in distance dies.
But give me back my barren hills
Where colder breezes rise;
Where scarce the scattered, stunted trees
Can yield an answering swell,
But where a wilderness of heath
Returns the sound as well.
For yonder garden, fair and wide,
With groves of evergreen,
Long winding walks, and borders trim,
And velvet lawns between;
Restore to me that little spot,
With grey walls compassed round,
Where knotted grass neglected lies,
And weeds usurp the ground.
Though all around this mansion high
Invites the foot to roam,
And though its halls are fair within -
Oh, give me back my Home!
poem by anne br from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Home
How brightly glistening in the sun
The woodland ivy plays!
While yonder beeches from their barks
Reflect his silver rays.
That sun surveys a lovely scene
From softly smiling skies;
And wildly through unnumbered trees
The wind of winter sighs:
Now loud, it thunders o'er my head,
And now in distance dies.
But give me back my barren hills
Where colder breezes rise;
Where scarce the scattered, stunted trees
Can yield an answering swell,
But where a wilderness of heath
Returns the sound as well.
For yonder garden, fair and wide,
With groves of evergreen,
Long winding walks, and borders trim,
And velvet lawns between;
Restore to me that little spot,
With grey walls compassed round,
Where knotted grass neglected lies,
And weeds usurp the ground.
Though all around this mansion high
Invites the foot to roam,
And though its halls are fair within -
Oh, give me back my Home!
poem by Anne Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Light Between the Trees
Long, long, long the trail
Through the brooding forest-gloom,
Down the shadowy, lonely vale
Into silence, like a room
Where the light of life has fled,
And the jealous curtains close
Round the passionless repose
Of the silent dead.
Plod, plod, plod away,
Step by step in mouldering moss;
Thick branches bar the day
Over languid streams that cross
Softly, slowly, with a sound
In their aimless creeping
Like a smothered weeping,
Through the enchanted ground.
"Yield, yield, yield thy quest,"
Whispers through the woodland deep;
"Come to me and be at rest;
"I am slumber, I am sleep."
Then the weary feet would fail,
But the never-daunted will
Urges "Forward, forward still!
"Press along the trail!"
Breast, breast, breast the slope!
See, the path is growing steep.
Hark! a little song of hope
When the stream begins to leap.
Though the forest, far and wide,
Still shuts out the bending blue,
We shall finally win through,
Cross the long divide.
On, on, onward tramp!
Will the journey never end?
Over yonder lies the camp;
Welcome waits us there, my friend.
Can we reach it ere the night?
Upward, upward, never fear!
Look, the summit must be near;
See the line of light!
Red, red, red the shine
Of the splendour in the west,
Glowing through the ranks of pine,
Clear along the mountain-crest!
Long, long, long the trail
Out of sorrow's lonely vale;
But at last the traveller sees
Light between the trees!
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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The Rising Of The Storm
THE lake's dark breast
Is all unrest,
It heaves with a sob and a sigh.
Like a tremulous bird,
From its slumber stirred,
The moon is a-tilt in the sky.
From the silent deep
The waters sweep,
But faint on the cold white stones,
And the wavelets fly
With a plaintive cry
O'er the old earth's bare, bleak bones.
And the spray upsprings
On its ghost-white wings,
And tosses a kiss at the stars;
While a water-sprite,
In sea-pearls dight,
Hums a sea-hymn's solemn bars.
Far out in the night,
On the wavering sight
I see a dark hull loom;
And its light on high,
Like a Cyclops' eye,
Shines out through the mist and gloom.
Now the winds well up
From the earth's deep cup,
And fall on the sea and shore,
And against the pier
The waters rear
And break with a sullen roar.
Up comes the gale,
And the mist-wrought veil
Gives way to the lightning's glare,
And the cloud-drifts fall,
A sombre pall,
O'er water, earth, and air.
The storm-king flies,
His whip he plies,
And bellows down the wind.
The lightning rash
With blinding flash
Comes pricking on behind.
Rise, waters, rise,
And taunt the skies
With your swift-flitting form.
Sweep, wild winds, sweep,
And tear the deep
To atoms in the storm.
And the waters leapt,
And the wild winds swept,
And blew out the moon in the sky,
And I laughed with glee,
It was joy to me
As the storm went raging by!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Sun Burns East to West
The Sun Burns East to West
(Earth’s Creation to the end of an Ice Age)
© 2008 (Jim Sularz)
Sun’s first rise over life-less skies,
the Earth cools, and the waters pool -
the Sun burns East to West.
And the planet’s broken plates quake and move.
Lightning strikes, the waters stir,
and the bonds of life begin to churn -
the Sun burns East to West.
And the waters swirl in a living urn.
Strange aquatic things, they all evolve,
some spiny finned, start to crawl -
the Sun burns East to West.
And they slowly stretch erect and tall.
Eons past where the cunning reign, a savage place,
with small sized brains -
the Sun burns East to West.
And the dead surrender their twisted remains.
An asteroid streaks from the sky, blocks out the Sun,
cause most to die -
the Sun burns East to West.
And all in a blink of Time’s eye.
Footprints in stone, some on mountainsides,
make it clear that rocks don’t lie -
the Sun burns East to West.
And the Fossils always tell the Time.
Eons past and Eons more, the fittest evolves,
and Man is born -
the Sun burns East to West.
And the early brain, once fast asleep,
begins to dream and mourn.
The first million years, Man lives in fear, learns to hunt,
invents the spear -
the Sun burns East to West.
And migrates to claim the vast frontiers.
Tools from stone and controlled fire, creates language,
that shake Man’s empire -
the Sun burns East to West.
And splash Cave paintings with Human inspire.
Life-times of hunter-gathering,
and story-telling in the dark -
the Sun burns East to West.
And a World spins with a Million hearts.
The Earth starts to warm, the oceans rise,
and the waters shape the lands -
the Sun burns East to West.
And when an Ice Age ends, then comes, the Age of Man.
poem by Jim Sularz
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A Dirge
Rough wind, that moanest loud
Grief too sad for song;
Wild wind, when sullen cloud
Knells all the night long;
Sad storm whose tears are vain,
Bare woods, whose branches strain,
Deep caves and dreary main,--
Wail, for the world’s wrong!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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A View
driftwood
with seven twigs
on the shore
as clear as glass
is the water
and all stones and pebbles
are visible
above
blue skies
so blue that the white cotton clouds
appear like sperm cells moving
impregnating
an earth-sky womb
and then
it rains
the water rises
the drift wood again taken
floating
gently to another shore
another island
of white sands
a coconut tree towers
to reach a waft of cloud
winds as cool as ice
sands slipping on the fingers
a leaf from a guyabano tree falls
on the mouth
of a sleeping woman
beside her
the man whose arms are enclosing
her throughout
the rainy night
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wild Forest Flower
Rough around the edges but a tender center
This is my wild forest flower
Short and slender with long flowing blonde hair
This is my wild forest flower
A loving heart that goes beyond what I can see
This is my wild forest flower
I want to hold my flower in my hands
Wondering why she holds back and refuses to stand
I water it every now and then to watch it grow
But it takes too long because it’s a little slow
So I wait patiently for the flower to begin to rise
Even though I can still hear the weeping willows cries
Firm and hard headed but with a loving touch
This is my wild forest flower
Always hiding and always scared like a little child
This is my wild forest flower
The only one im willing to be with anymore
This is my wild forest flower
A darkened hush rises in the sky above my flower
The roots slowly exposing themselves out of fear
A forest fire begins in the distance soon to consume it
The fire rages ready to consume the small thing in power
This little bitty flower that I love and hold so dear
but I laugh because I know how this fire got lit
poem by Branden Aeling
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Flamingoes Fly
Lie by my side in the still of the night
And morning brings forth all its wondrous delight
You couldnt have made it more plain
When I hear that soft refrain
And I hear you gently sigh
I wanna take you where flamingoes fly, flamingoes fly
Way over yonder in the clear blue sky
Thats where flamingoes fly
Lie in the dark with the sweet sound of the nightingale
And listen for lark, and I will tell you a tale
Soft winds blowin, blowin outside
I wanna take that moonlight ride
When I hear you gently sigh
I wanna take you where flamingoes fly, flamingoes fly
Way over yonder, yeah in the clear blue sky
Thats where flamingoes fly
Silently waiting for that morning light to shine
Yeah, and Im looking at you, looking at me
And Im looking at you
And anticipating
Each and every, each and every sign
And Im looking at you, looking at me
And Im looking at you, looking at me
Looking at you, looking at me, looking at you
I follow the road that will take me, take me back home
And carry that load where the deer and the provincial angels roam
Happiness touches me now
Who knows where it came from and how, but
When I hear you gently sigh
I wanna, wanna take you where flamingoes fly, flamingoes fly
Way over yonder in the clear blue sky
Thats where flamingoes fly, flamingoes fly
Way over yonder in the clear blue sky
Thats where flamingoes fly
You see those flamingoes fly
Ya see those, ya see those, ya see those
Ya see those, ya see those, ya see those flamingoes fly
Look over yonder, look over yonder, darling
Look over yonder, darling
Ya take it by the ocean, ya take it, ya take it by the ocean
Mmm uhhh, take it by the ocean
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shepherd's Lament
ON yonder lofty mountain
A thousand times I stand,
And on my staff reclining,
Look down on the smiling land.
My grazing flocks then I follow,
My dog protecting them well;
I find myself in the valley,
But how, I scarcely can tell.
The whole of the meadow is cover'd
With flowers of beauty rare;
I pluck them, but pluck them unknowing
To whom the offering to bear.
In rain and storm and tempest,
I tarry beneath the tree,
But closed remaineth yon portal;
'Tis all but a vision to me.
High over yonder dwelling,
There rises a rainbow gay;
But she from home hath departed
And wander'd far, far away.
Yes, far away bath she wander'd,
Perchance e'en over the sea;
Move onward, ye sheep, then, move onward!
Full sad the shepherd must be.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Allurement
FROM yonder hedge, from yonder spray,
He calls me onward and away.
Broad lies the world and fair to see;
The cuckoo calls—is calling me.
I have not seen or heard of Care,
Who used my very bed to share,
Since that first morn, when airily
The cuckoo, calling, called to me.
My sweetheart's face? I have forgot.
My mother? But she calls me not.
From the sweet bank, from the dim lea,
The cuckoo calls—is calling me.
And I must go—I may not choose;
No gain there is, nor aught to lose;
And soon—say, now—on some wild tree,
The bird sits long and waits for me.
poem by Margaret Steele Anderson
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Purple Heather
Arranged by van morrison
Well the summertime has gone
And the leaves are gently turnin
And my love I wanna take you
To the place heart-a-yearnin
Will you go, lassie go
And well all go together
In the wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather
Will you go
And I will build my love a tower
At the foot of yonder mountain
And visit by the hour
From a lonely wooden tower
Will you go, lassie go
And well all go together
In the wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather
Come on
At the foot of yonder mountain
I will visit by the hour
With the lily of the valley
Go, will you go, lassie go
And well all go together
In the wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather
Will you go, lassie go
Will you go
Will you go, will you go
Will you go, lassie go
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Forest
(9/5/12)
I walked through the forest of beautiful tall trees
And felt the softness of a gentle breeze
I saw a rabbit running by, as I looked up to the sky
There was a squirrel jumping from tree to tree
Landing on the branches so gracefully.
I heard the crickets making their beautiful sound
But there was none that could be found.
I could hear a woodpecker pecking away
But I knew it was far away.
I heard the shrill of the crows in flight
But the trees covered them from my sight
I heard the sound of a running brook
As I searched to take a look.
The forest with all its sights
Made my heart jump with delight
All the beauties that GOD has given
Is in this forest where his creatures are living.
I found the brook which was clear as glass
And the fish jumping- creating a splash
The suns reflection on the water
like sparkling diamonds in the brook
as I got closer to take a look.
If and when time permits
Go to the forest - take a trip
Look at all that GOD has given
This is what makes life worth living.
poem by Louis Rams
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Chain Lightning
Sometimes when I'm thinkin that love's not around
My heart begins sinkin, I don't hear a sound
And the world is in blackness, no light shines on me
I suffer no blindness, no one can I see
Then a flash from the heavens, like loud jagged wire
And the silence is broken, and the night is on fire.
(Chorus)
It's like chain lightning, this love that I feel
Who knows where it strikes
Or when it will hit
How long it will last, or when it will quit
In the forest I'm burnin, struck down by the blast
The fever is churnin, and the heat rises fast
And those standing nearest can show their concern
But swear if they touch me, that they too will burn
They fear for their lives, for death will soon dwell
In the warmth of your love is the fire of hell.
(Chorus)
It's like chain lightning, this love that I feel
Who knows where it strikes
Or when it will hit
How long it will last, or when it will quit
And soon the sparks scatter and the wind whips the flame
And love will soon shatter what it cannot tame
And the cycle continues from life into dust
For I am now in you, with the fire of lust
I hear the explosion, and the thunder and rain
The water is falling, and the ashes remain.
(Chorus)
It's like chain lightning, this love that I feel
Who knows where it strikes
Or when it will hit
How long it will last, or when it will quit
The Indians tell us that the phoenix can rise
From teh smoldering ashes that once were my eyes
And watch beautiful colors from black and from grey
Be formed into wings and then take me away
Where evil is darkness and goodness is light
And love is the lightning that cust through the night
And strikes only once in a dark place in time
And forms a fold stairway that all of us climb.
Submitted by C. Cox
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memory
My mind lets go a thousand things
Like dates of wars and deaths of kings,
And yet recalls the very hour--
'T was noon by yonder village tower,
And on the last blue noon in May--
The wind came briskly up this way,
Crisping the brook beside the road;
Then, pausing here, set down its load
Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly
Two petals from that wild-rose tree.
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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Storm-Music
O Music hast thou only heard
The laughing river, the singing bird,
The murmuring wind in the poplar-trees,--
Nothing but Nature's melodies?
Nay, thou hearest all her tones,
As a Queen must hear!
Sounds of wrath and fear,
Mutterings, shouts, and moans,
Madness, tumult, and despair,
All she has that shakes the air
With voices fierce and wild!
Thou art a Queen and not a dreaming child,--
Put on thy crown and let us hear thee reign
Triumphant in a world of storm and strain!
Echo the long-drawn sighs
Of the mounting wind in the pines;
And the sobs of the mounting waves that rise
In the dark of the troubled deep
To break on the beach in fiery lines.
Echo the far-off roll of thunder,
Rumbling loud
And ever louder, under
The blue-black curtain of cloud,
Where the lightning serpents gleam.
Echo the moaning
Of the forest in its sleep
Like a giant groaning
In the torment of a dream.
Now an interval of quiet
For a moment holds the air
In the breathless hush
Of a silent prayer.
Then the sudden rush
Of the rain, and the riot
Of the shrieking, tearing gale
Breaks loose in the night,
With a fusillade of hail!
Hear the forest fight,
With its tossing arms that crack and clash
In the thunder's cannonade,
While the lightning's forked flash
Brings the old hero-trees to the ground with a crash!
Hear the breakers' deepening roar,
Driven like a herd of cattle
In the wild stampede of battle,
Trampling, trampling, trampling, to overwhelm the shore!
Is it the end of all?
Will the land crumble and fall?
Nay, for a voice replies
Out of the hidden skies,
"Thus far, O sea, shalt thou go,
So long, O wind, shalt thou blow:
Return to your bounds and cease,
And let the earth have peace!"
O Music, lead the way--
The stormy night is past,
Lift up our hearts to greet the day,
And the joy of things that last.
The dissonance and pain
That mortals must endure,
Are changed in thine immortal strain
To something great and pure.
True love will conquer strife,
And strength from conflict flows,
For discord is the thorn of life
And harmony the rose.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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A Day Of Sunshine. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Second)
O gift of God! O perfect day:
Whereon shall no man work, but play;
Whereon it is enough for me,
Not to be doing, but to be!
Through every fibre of my brain,
Through every nerve, through every vein,
I feel the electric thrill, the touch
Of life, that seems almost too much.
I hear the wind among the trees
Playing celestial symphonies;
I see the branches downward bent,
Like keys of some great instrument.
And over me unrolls on high
The splendid scenery of the sky,
Where though a sapphire sea the sun
Sails like a golden galleon,
Towards yonder cloud-land in the West,
Towards yonder Islands of the Blest,
Whose steep sierra far uplifts
Its craggy summits white with drifts.
Blow, winds! and waft through all the rooms
The snow-flakes of the cherry-blooms!
Blow, winds! and bend within my reach
The fiery blossoms of the peach!
O Life and Love! O happy throng
Of thoughts, whose only speech is song!
O heart of man! canst thou not be
Blithe as the air is, and as free?
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Earth Laments for Day
THERE’S music wafting on the air,
The evening winds are sighing
Among the trees—and yonder stream
Is mournfully replying,
Lamenting loud the sunny light
That in the west is dying.
The moon is rising o’er the hill,
Her slanting rays are creeping
Where Nature lies profoundly still
In happy quiet sleeping,
And resting on her face, they’ll find
The earth is wet with weeping.
She mourneth for the lovely day,
Now deep in darkness shaded;
She sheds the dewy tear because
Of morning’s mantle faded;
She misses from her breast the garb
In which the moon array’d it.
The evening queen will strive in vain
To break the spell which bound her;
A million stars can never throw
Departed warmth around her;
They all must pass away and leave
The earth as they had found her.
But why should gentle Nature weep
That night has overtaken
The wearied world that needed sleep,
Refreshed to re-awaken,
So richer light might burst around,
The gloomy shadows breaking?
Oh, can she not from yonder sky
That gleams above her, borrow
A single ray, or find a way
To check the tear of sorrow?
A beam of hope would last her till
The dawning of to-morrow.
poem by Henry Kendall
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Leaf
A single season of life
Borne of spring’s dew, released on fall’s winds
Great oak’s life running through its veins
To the forest, a gift of motion and color
Great tree, expanding out, gripping its earth
Dancing slowly in the currents of time
In an instant, illusions of stillness
Basking in brilliant sunshine
Flowing feathers in the music of the night
Silt carried by water
Returning to roots once more
Trunk, branches, ever thinner, expansive
Ever softer, edges of fragility
Branches holding mirrors for tree’s image
From the tree, our image of leaf
From the leaf, our image of tree
Leibniz' monad reflecting the whole
poem by George Kassabgi
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