Song
THE LIGHT of spring
On the emerald earth,
A man, a maid,
And a mood of mirth,
A foolish jest,
That a smile amends -
It took no more
To make us friends.
An evening breeze,
The year in bloom,
Lips quickly met
In the garden's gloom;
The trees about us,
The stars above -
It took no more
To teach us love.
Frost in the air -
The air like wine -
Go you your way,
And I'll go mine.
Lightly we part
Who lightly met -
What more is needed,
When both forget?
poem by Alice Duer Miller
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Related quotes
Memories
I remember my father’s garden
Roses grew in full bloom behind the maple tree
That has always been there, in my memory,
Its trunk seemed golden
Beneath the light of the moon and stars in the evening and
At dawn, it would capture the rays of the sun,
Turning copper beneath the shadows cast by the mountains;
I have always adored the nighttime hours-
The stars seemed magical to me, glistening within the darkness and
The moon brings me peace of mind, quietly sleeping,
As its gentle rays illuminated the sky, giving just enough light
So I could see the roses, trees and wildflowers that decorated my father’s garden.
My father passed away twenty years ago and
I can recall his love for nature and his passion for the silence of the evening hours-
So much like mine-so many memories have escaped me but
I can still hear his laughter ringing throughout the valley near our home,
And every time I look upward toward the moon at twilight,
I can nearly see his smile shining through its muted light-
As a gentle breeze would blow, rustling the leaves upon the trees-
It would remind me that my father’s soul is still alive-
I see his face in every rose and his hands grasping the branches on the trees-
And I have always believed that even though people die and
Though their bodies may never be seen again,
The love and recollection of their spirits remain
In the places that they so loved-
My father’s home was in his garden amongst the maple trees, roses and wildflowers, and
In my innermost thoughts, it is there where he remains- and
Every day and every night, when I walk amongst the trees and flowers
I can hear his voice calling my name and in my heart I know
He can still hear my voice and see my face, as in the light of the moon and stars-
We shall be bonded in spirit for an eternity.
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Mirth And Mourning
'O cast away your sorrow;
A while, at least, be gay!
If grief must come tomorrow,
At least, be glad today!
'How can you still be sighing
When smiles are everywhere?
The little birds are flying
So blithely through the air;
'The sunshine glows so brightly
O'er all the blooming earth;
And every heart beats lightly,
Each face is full of mirth.'
'I always feel the deepest gloom
When day most brightly shines:
When Nature shows the fairest bloom,
My spirit most repines;
'For, in the brightest noontide glow,
The dungeon's light is dim;
Though freshest winds around us blow,
No breath can visit him.
'If he must sit in twilight gloom,
Can I enjoy the sight
Of mountains clad in purple bloom,
And rocks in sunshine bright?
'My heart may well be desolate,
These tears may well arise
While prison wall and iron grate
Oppress his weary eyes.'
'But think of him tomorrow,
And join your comrades now;
That constant cloud of sorrow
Ill suits so young a brow.
'Hark, how their merry voices
Are sounding far and near!
While all the world rejoices
Can you sit moping here?'
'When others' hearts most lightly bound
Mine feels the most oppressed;
When smiling faces greet me round
My sorrow will not rest:
'I think of him whose faintest smile
Was sunshine to my heart,
Whose lightest word could care beguile
And blissful thoughts impart;
'I think how he would bless that sun,
And love this glorious scene;
I think of all that has been done,
And all that might have been.
'Those sparkling eyes, that blessed me so,
Are dim with weeping now;
And blighted hope and burning woe
Have ploughed that marble brow.
'What waste of youth, what hopes destroyed,
What days of pining care,
What weary nights of comfort void
Art thou condemned to bear!
'O! if my love must suffer so
And wholly for my sake
What marvel that my tears should flow,
Or that my heart should break!'
poem by Anne Brontë
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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0372 Reflection on a garden pond
It's unexpectedly mild this early Spring evening
and I take my glass of beer, cold in the hand,
and slide the patio door open and step out for the first time this year,
feeling like an intruder in my own garden, so strange in the twilight.
Then, melted by awe and gratitude
to see an unplanned wild violet
which has taken up residence between the cement slabs.
Between other slabs the miniature bamboo stubbornly returns,
(that was my Japanese year) and in the tiny pond,
soon to be turned into a living soup by amorous frogs
to the total puzzlement of the white cat, watching for an hour or so
and extending from time to time an ineffective paw,
or nosing the water unable, either, to gulp a tadpole -
in the tiny pond, something bright;
a dancing reflection in the water stirred by an evening breeze -
the moon;
the same moon that danced on the water for Li Po
as he drank from his wine cup
alone and at peace, so far, so long ago;
in a poet's solitude and contentment
and the thought of distant friends,
celebrated with wine
under the moon, on a spring evening,
in perfect happiness.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Cities Of The Plain
'Get ye up from the wrath of God's terrible day!
Ungirded, unsandalled, arise and away!
'T is the vintage of blood, 't is the fulness of time,
And vengeance shall gather the harvest of crime!'
The warning was spoken--the righteous had gone,
And the proud ones of Sodom were feasting alone;
All gay was the banquet--the revel was long,
With the pouring of wine and the breathing of song.
'T was an evening of beauty; the air was perfume,
The earth was all greenness, the trees were all bloom;
And softly the delicate viol was heard,
Like the murmur of love or the notes of a bird.
And beautiful maidens moved down in the dance,
With the magic of motion and sunshine of glance
And white arms wreathed lightly, and tresses fell free
As the plumage of birds in some tropical tree.
Where the shrines of foul idols were lighted on high,
And wantonness tempted the lust of the eye;
Midst rites of obsceneness, strange, loathsome, abhorred,
The blasphemer scoffed at the name of the Lord.
Hark! the growl of the thunder,--the quaking of earth!
Woe, woe to the worship, and woe to the mirth!
The black sky has opened; there's flame in the air;
The red arm of vengeance is lifted and bare!
Then the shriek of the dying rose wild where the song
And the low tone of love had been whispered along;
For the fierce flames went lightly o'er palace and bower,
Like the red tongues of demons, to blast and devour!
Down, down on the fallen the red ruin rained,
And the reveller sank with his wine-cup undrained;
The foot of the dancer, the music's loved thrill,
And the shout and the laughter grew suddenly still.
The last throb of anguish was fearfully given;
The last eye glared forth in its madness on Heaven!
The last groan of horror rose wildly and vain,
And death brooded over the pride of the Plain!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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The New Aspasia
If I have given myself to you, and you,
And if these pale hands are not virginal,
Nor these bright lips beneath your own lips true,
What matters it? I do not stand nor fall
By your old foolish judgments of desire:
If this were Helen's way it is not mine;
I bring you Beauty, but no Troys to fire:
The cup I hold brims not with Borgia's wine.
You, so sudden snared of brows and breasts,
Lightly you think upon these lips, this hair.
My thoughts are kinder: you are pity's guests:
Compassion's bed you share.
It was not lust delivered me to you;
I gave my wondering mouth for pity's sake,
For your strange, sighing lips I did but break
Many times this bread, and poured this wine anew.
My body's woven sweetness and kindling hair
Were given for heal of hurts unknown of me,
For something I could slake but could not share.
Sudden, and rough, and cruel I let you be,
I gave my body for what the world calls sin,
Even as for your souls the Nazarene
Gave once. Long years in pity I and He
Have served you-Jesus and the Magdalen.
As on the river in the fading light
A rust-red sail across the evening creeps,
Torching the gloom, and slowly sinks from sight,
The blood may rise to some old face at night,
Remembering old sins before it sleeps.
So might you hence recall me, were I true
To your sad violence. Were I not free
So me you might remember now; but you
Were no more loved by me than
Than clouds at sunset, or the wild bird going
About his pleasure on the apple tree,
Or wide-blown roses swelling to the bee;
No sweeter than flowers suddenly found growing
In frost-bound dells, or, on the bare, high hills,
The gold, unlaced, dew-drunken daffodils
Shouting the dawn, or the brown river flowing
Down quietly to the sea;
Or day in twilight's hair bound safe and dim,
Stirless in lavender, or the wind blowing,
Tumbling the poppy's turban after him.
I knew you as I knew these happy things,
Passing, unwept, on wide and tranquil wings
To their own place in nature; below, above
Transient passion with its stains and stings.
For this strange pity that you knew not of
Was neither lust nor love.
Do not repent, nor pity, nor regret.
I do not seek your pardon, nor give you mine.
Pass by, be silent, drop no tears, forget.
Return not, make no sign
When I am dead, nor turn your lips away
From Phyrne's silver limbs and Faustine's kiss.
I need no pity. No word of pity say.
I have given a new sweet name and crown to this
That served men's lust and was Aspasia.
poem by Muriel Stuart
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The Resolve
In Imitation of An Old English Poem
My wayward fate I needs must plain,
Though bootless be the theme;
I loved, and was beloved again,
Yet all was but a dream:
For, a her love was quickly got,
So it was quickly gone;
No more I'll bask in flame so hot,
But coldly dwell alone.
Not maid more bright than maid was e'er
My fancy shall beguile,
By flattering word, or feigned tear,
By gesture, look, or smile:
No more I'll call the shaft fair shot,
Till it has fairly flown,
Nor scorch me at a flame so hot;-
I'll rather freeze alone.
Each ambush'd Cupid I'll defy,
In cheek, or chin, or brow,
And deem the glance of woman's eye
As weak as woman's vow:
I'll lightly hold the lady's heart,
That is but lightly won;
I'll steel my breast to beauty's art,
And learn to live alone.
The flaunting torch soon blazes out,
The diamond's ray abides;
The flame its glory hurls about,
The gem its lustre hides;
Such gem I fondly deem'd was mine,
And glow'd a diamond stone,
But, since each eye may see it shine,
I'll darkling dwell alone.
No waking dream shall tinge my thought
With dyes so bright and vain.
No silken net, so slightly wrought,
Shall tangle me again:
No more I'll pay so dear for wit,
I'll live upon mine own,
Nor shall wild passion trouble it,-
I'll rather dwell alone.
And thus I'll hush my heart to rest,-
'Thy loving labour's lost;
Thou shalt no more be wildly blest,
To be so strangely crost;
The widow'd turtles mateless die,
The phoenix is but one;
They seek no loves -no more will I-
I'll rather dwell alone.'
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Lightly Come or Lightly Go
Lightly come or lightly go:
Though thy heart presage thee woe,
Vales and many a wasted sun,
Oread let thy laughter run,
Till the irreverent mountain air
Ripple all thy flying hair.
Lightly, lightly -- - ever so:
Clouds that wrap the vales below
At the hour of evenstar
Lowliest attendants are;
Love and laughter song-confessed
When the heart is heaviest.
poem by James Joyce
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Thread Lightly As You Go
Thread Lightly As You Go
Date: February 26,2012
Tread lightly on my heart, sweetheart
Speak soft, and gently go
For locked behind the walls of steel
The pain of sorrow grows
Locked within a rusty cage
A dream in pieces lies
Like diamonds of a moonlit night
Torn from the midnight skies
Whilst round and round, the whispers
Float gentle in the gloom
Just memories in a garden
Where once our passion bloomed
Time has laid to rest, my love
The blooming of my heart
In cold and lifeless slumber
It perished in the dark
Tread lightly, love…tread lightly
So fragile is the glass
Tis fraught with many fractures
And wounds of seasons past
The wind outside is ruthless
The days…so long and cold
A thief of bright tomorrow's
Stepped in to steal our gold
Like a puzzle left unfinished
A poem without an end
My passion's loosed and fraying
No soul to help it mend
Thread lightly, dear…thread lightly
Speak soft, and gently go
Leave only care and mercy
To tend the seeds you sowed
************************************ *********
Copyright © 2012 Leria Hawkins, All Rights Reserved
poem by Leria Hawkins
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In The Garden
The streets are always wet with rain
After a summer shower when I saw you standin
In the garden in the garden wet with rain
You wiped the teardrops from your eye in sorrow
As we watched the petals fall down to the ground
And as I sat beside you I felt the
Great sadness that day in the garden
And then one day you came back home
You were a creature all in rapture
You had the key to your soul
And you did open that day you came back to the garden
The olden summer breeze was blowin on your face
The light of God was shinin on your countenance divine
And you were a violet colour as you
Sat beside your father and your mother in the garden
The summer breeze was blowin on your face
Within your violet you treasure your summery words
And as the shiver from my neck down to my spine
Ignited me in daylight and nature in the garden
And you went into a trance
Your childlike vision became so fine
And we heard the bells inside the church
We loved so much
And felt the presence of the youth of
Eternal summers in the garden
And as it touched your cheeks so lightly
Born again you were and blushed and we touched each other lightly
And we felt the presence of the christ
And I turned to you and I said
No guru, no method, no teacher
Just you and I and nature
And the father in the garden
No guru, no method, no teacher
Just you and I and nature
And the father and the
Son and the holy ghost
In the garden wet with rain
No guru, no method, no teacher
Just you and I and nature and the holy ghost
In the garden, in the garden, wet with rain
No guru, no method, no teacher
Just you and I and nature
And the father in the garden
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dying Flower
Each Flower Petal Slowly Dying
Light Whispers Of Death
Hanging In The Brisk Afternoon Air
Lightly A Petal Floats Towards The Ground
A Gust Of Wind Quickly Whisks It Away
One By One The Flower Becomes Bearer
As Each Petal Vanishes.
The Day's Become Darker
The Nights Lighten
And The Flower Becomes Lonely
Till Eventually Only A Stem Remains
To Show It's Cycle Of Life.
The Flower Willows Towards It's End
The Petals Become Scarce
What Once Used To Be A Colour Delight
Now Hangs In Deaths Mist
As An Emerald Waiting...
Waiting For The Last Petal To Die.
Finally The Emerald Stem Dies Away
And Slowly Decay
For Again One Day
It Shall Show Its Colours
And Whistle In The Wind
With All It's Petals In Full Bloom...
poem by Ian Humphreys
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Autumn
In her arms unconscious lying,
Cytherea's love is dying.
On the hill and in the valley,
Through the grove and sun-lit alley,
Drooping flower and fading leaf
Share her grief.
But in realms of gloom and night
Proserpina wreathes her hair,
And a gleam of tender light
Seems to pierce the darkness there:
"Ah!" she sighs, "I long have waited
With the calm of hopeless pain,
But to me, the sorrow-fated,
Comes the lost one back again!
Lovely things that seem to die
Hither now will quickly hie,
And to-morrow, in the gloom
Of this sad and sunless tomb,
Butterflies will lightly hover,
As o'er meadows fair;" she saith,
"For Adonis brings the clover
With his breath!"
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Tenderly
The evening breeze caressed the trees, tenderly
The trembling trees embraced the breeze tenderly
Then you and I came wandering by
And lost in a sigh were we
The shore was kissed by sea and mist tenderly
I cant forget how two hearts met breathlessly
Your arms opened wide
And closed me inside
You took my lips you took my love so tenderly
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom
Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom,
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves, the earliest of ' the year;
And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:
And oft by yon blue gushing stream
Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,
And feed deep thought with many a dream,
And lingering pause and lightly tread;
Fond wretch! as if her step disturbed the dead!
Away I we know that tears are vain,
That death nor heeds nor hears distress:
Will this unteach us to complain?
Or make one mourner weep the less?
And thou - who tell'st me to forget,
Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.
Garden of Heaven
Gentle fog hovers over like a blanket
It hangs over the trees and kisses the grass
Roses are spotted with dew
This day is new
The sun crawls through the fog
Rays give a healthy glow to the garden
The musky smell of rains from yesterday reach my nose
As I drift through the garden on the cobblestone path
I walk lightly not wanting to disturb the peace
Of the crimson roses and gold freckled leaves
This is a time when all is serene
A time when things are looked at differently
A shabby worn house looks like a regal mansion
A wrinkled old maid looks like a glowing slender queen
So I walk through this garden of heaven and earth
And all I feel is happy and content
poem by Avalin Locke
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Fall in love with your smile
Your smile seemed like a bliss in solitude
I never imagined a simple smile can be so beautiful
When u smiled the world seemed a better place
No wonder your smile transformed gloomy days
During spring when gentle breeze makes the leaves sway
It is reminiscent to your smile which makes tears go away
When u smile thousand radiant flowers bloom
When u cried even the brightest days appeared gloom
Never stop smiling not even for a while
Because someone can fall in love with your smile
poem by Tarique Siddiqui
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May
LIGHT and silv'ry cloudlets hover
In the air, as yet scarce warm;
Mild, with glimmer soft tinged over,
Peeps the sun through fragrant balm.
Gently rolls and heaves the ocean
As its waves the bank o'erflow.
And with ever restless motion
Moves the verdure to and fro,
Mirror'd brightly far below.
What is now the foliage moving?
Air is still, and hush'd the breeze,
Sultriness, this fullness loving,
Through the thicket, from the trees.
Now the eye at once gleams brightly,
See! the infant band with mirth
Moves and dances nimbly, lightly,
As the morning gave it birth,
Flutt'ring two and two o'er earth.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Oh! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom
I
Oh! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom!
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves, the earliest of the year—
And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom—
II
And oft by yon blue gushing stream
Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,
And feed deep thought with many a dream,
And lingering pause, and lightly tread,—
Fond wretch! as if her step disturb'd the dead!
III
Away! we know that tears are vain,
That death nor heeds nor hears distress—
Will this unteach us to complain?
Or make one mourner weep the less?
And thou—who tell'st me to forget,
Thy looks are wan—thine eyes are wet.
poem by Byron from The Hebrew Melodies (1815)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Tenderly
Walter gross / jack lawrence
The evening breeze caressed the trees tenderly
The trembling trees embraced the breeze tenderly
Then you and I came wandering by
And lost in a sigh were we
The shore was kissed by sea and mist tenderly
I cant forget how two hearts met breathlessly
Your arms opened wide and closed me inside
You took my lips, you took my love so tenderly
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Garden
One moment alone in the garden,
Under the August skies;
The moon had gone but the stars shone on, -
Shone like your beautiful eyes.
Away from the glitter and gaslight,
Alone in the garden there,
While the mirth of the throng, in laugh and song,
Floated out on the air.
You looked down through the starlight,
And I looked up at you;
And a feeling came that I could not name, -
Something starnge and new.
Friends of a few weeks only, -
Why should it give me pain
To know you would go in the morrow,
And would not come again?
Formal friends of a season.
What matter that we must part?
But under the skies, with a swift surprise,
Each read the other's heart.
We did not speak, but your breath on my cheek
Was like a breeze of the south:
And your dark hair brushed my forehead
And your kiss fell on my mouth.
Some one was searching for me, -
Some one to say good-night;
And we went in from the garden,
Out of the sweet starlight,
Back to the glitter and music,
And we said 'Good-bye' in the hall,
When a dozen heard and echoed the word,
And then - well, that was all.
The river that rolls between us
Can never be crossed, I know,
For the waters are deep and the shores are steep,
And a maelstrom whirls below;
But I think we shall always remember,
Though we both may strive to forget,
How you looked in my eyes, 'neath the August skies,
After the moon had set; -
How you kissed my lips in the garden,
And we stood in a trance of bliss,
And our hearts seemed speaking together
In that one thrilling kiss.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Boogie Street
O crown of light, o darkened one,
I never thought wed meet.
You kiss my lips, and then its done:
Im back on boogie street.
A sip of wine, a cigarette,
And then its time to go.
I tidied up the kitchenette;
I tuned the old banjo.
Im wanted at the traffic-jam.
Theyre saving me a seat.
Im what I am, and what I am,
Is back on boogie street.
And o my love, I still recall
The pleasures that we knew;
The rivers and the waterfall,
Wherein I bathed with you.
Bewildered by your beauty there,
Id kneel to dry your feet.
By such instructions you prepare
A man for boogie street.
O crown of light, o darkened one
So come, my friends, be not afraid.
We are so lightly here.
It is in love that we are made;
In love we disappear.
Tho all the maps of blood and flesh
Are posted on the door,
Theres no one who has told us yet
What boogie street is for.
O crown of light, o darkened one,
I never thought wed meet.
You kiss my lips, and then its done:
Im back on boogie street.
A sip of wine, a cigarette,
And then its time to go . . .
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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