The Birch-Tree at Loschwitz
At Loschwitz above the city
The air is sunny and chill;
The birch-trees and the pine-trees
Grow thick upon the hill.
Lone and tall, with silver stem,
A birch-tree stands apart;
The passionate wind of spring-time
Stirs in its leafy heart.
I lean against the birch-tree,
My arms around it twine;
It pulses, and leaps, and quivers,
Like a human heart to mine.
One moment I stand, then sudden
Let loose mine arms that cling:
O God! the lonely hillside,
The passionate wind of spring!
Related quotes
The heart of a tree
With branches reaching out as if for a embrace
The tree may bow to nature with grace.
He stands alone when the wind blows strong.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
In winter's cold chill, You can see the tree stand still.
Leaves are gone but the tree stands strong.
Until winter turns into spring and the birds begin to sing.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
Through storms and the wind. Bowing with a graceful bend,
Until the sun shines again, still standing at the end,
The tree is like a true friend.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eye can't see,
Like the heart of a tree.
The old Tree's secrets
How many lovers sat together under the old tree?
If only the tree could speak.
The stories would be of weary travelers
finding a place of peace, and dreams in their sleep.
Stolen moments of lovers, perhaps a sweet caress.
A young man with a ring, a young girl said yes.
Tree I only imagine, I enjoy the guess.
Gentle breezes that lifted the leaves
to let them gently fall to earth.
Misting rain to meet the tree's thirst,
Perhaps two trees inter-twined are
Two lovers that were curst.
poem by Judy Arline Puckett
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Child's Song in Spring
The Silver Birch is a dainty lady,
She wears a satin gown;
The elm tree makes the old churchyard shady,
She will not live in town.
The English oak is a sturdy fellow,
He gets his green coat late;
The willow is smart in a suit of yellow
While brown the beech trees wait.
Such a gay green gown God gives the larches-
As green as he is good!
The hazels hold up their arms for arches,
When spring rides through the wood.
The chestnut’s proud, and the lilac’s pretty,
The poplar’s gentle and tall,
But the plane tree’s kind to the poor dull city-
I love him best of all!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Hare And The Fox
The fox lay still by the birch-tree's root
In the heather.
The hare was running with nimble foot
O'er the heather.
Was ever brighter a sunshine-day,
Before, behind me, and every way,
O'er the heather!
The fox laughed low by the birch-tree's root
In the heather.
The hare was running with daring foot
O'er the heather.
I am so happy for everything!
Hallo! Why go you with mighty spring
O'er the heather?
The fox lay hid by the birch-tree's root
In the heather.
The hare dashed to him with reckless foot
O'er the heather.
May God have mercy, but this is queer! --
Good gracious, how dare you dance so here
O'er the heather?
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Silver Birch Tree
Silver birch tree
I carved my love, into you
A school-locker key
I used for his name,
Piercing a heart
I carved my love, into you
Please keep it there
So that somewhere
We'll stay alive.
Silver birch tree
My life is in line, with you
It's always us three
Twisting through time,
Days come and go
My life is in line, with you
Seasons may change
Please stay the same
We'll stay alive.
poem by Sofia Darling
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Short; Nature: Out Our Window On A Breezy Evening
The sun has finally settled behind the nearby Belmont hills,
but its lingering light, the evening sky, with blue pastel fills.
Our star has warmed another San Carlos April day,
and now westward it recedes, as outside calls a jay.
A few grey clouds were briefly-edged with bright orange for my eye,
but it won't be long before the planet Venus sparkles in the sky.
A fragile birch tree peeks at me through a nearby window,
its limp branches swaying as the wind moves them to and fro.
Beyond the birch, beyond some roofs, a wooded hillside rises,
concealing roosting birds and browsing deer and more nighttime surprises.
(4-23-2012)
poem by Bri Edwards
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The Knight's Tomb
Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn?
Where may the grave of that good man be?--
By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn,
Under the twigs of a young birch tree!
The oak that in summer was sweet to hear,
And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year,
And whistled and roared in the winter alone,
Is gone,--and the birch in its stead is grown.--
The Knight's bones are dust,
And his good sword rust;--
His soul is with the saints, I trust.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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The Rose Tree Of Winter
In the cold winds of Winter she stands thorny and bare
In Summer large beautiful red flowers she did wear
The Rose tree of Winter not a pretty sight
At a time of year with litle warmth in the sunlight,
When the birds in the sunlit gardens will nest and sing
She will wear her new leaves and rosebuds of the Spring
As a tree the rose tree does not grow very tall
Compared to most trees she does seem very small
But in her full bloom none as lovely as she
In her cloak of flowers she's a beautiful tree
But in Winter she stands there by the garden wall
Of the garden trees the most forlorn one of all
And though it may still be a few months from the Spring
The white backed magpie on the blackwood tree sing
But without her leaves and flowers prickly looking and bare
The rose tree looks drab in the cool morning air.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Tess... Tess
Sad tortured hillside, against
a pastel slate sky;
mute; purple stucco stubble.
Smoking chimney; early morning lit.
Wind blown, lean trees
beautified mystical silver birch;
doors of classrooms; I to enter do not want.
Morning tea; on a wooden bench.
Black top, sexy miniskirt
terracotta pots;
matchbox houses; ghastly trousers.
Leaves sparkling; wind turned.
Smoking crayon, set
against an ash-grey sky;
swirling; blue grey mist.
Toast; vapour steamed.
Dog!
lichen on wild; wall top undisturbed;
man on lawn mower; that win lotto didn't.
Dog!
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Whispers of the Wind
The Tree stands tall,
Listening to the Wind,
Whispering its cautionary tales.
The Tree stands tall,
Listening to the Wind,
But does not bend, you see?
You are the Wind,
And so I shall be the Tree,
Never fear, dear friend, I shall listen to thee.
Yet I shall not bend,
To your valiant assumptions,
To your hollow allegations.
Impetuous is the Wind with only it's tales to tell me,
But I shall stand Tall,
For I am the Tree.
poem by Zoe L Mathias
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Atlas
You rip through the trees,
A black blur stronger then
Anything
The world's ever witnessed,
Thick paws heavy with dread
And with knowledge
And with things kept from
You.
You howl,
Again, the birch's
Nothing more then
A snow striped blurr,
Nothing more then
Eternity...
A pointless thing,
You howl with dread
Blankness. Death.
But you are stronger then
That.
You press on,
Heedless of the blood-stained
Cantelope sky,
Heedless of the ropy red clouds,
Heedless of the lake,
A reflective of sky.
You tramp in, your intentions clear,
The sky thrust on your paws
And the summer birch's spin
As do the clouds,
And the air
And shadows
Of the wind.
But you are heedless of
Eternity
poem by Alice Miller
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I put quite a few trees in last autumn. A lot of silver birch and a couple of native trees - just generally doing gardening, putting plants in and hedges in. It takes quite a lot of time and I love it.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: XCIII
A DISAPPOINTMENT
Spring, of a sudden, came to life one day.
Ere this, the Winter had been cold and chill.
That morning first the Summer air did fill
The world, making bleak March seem almost May.
The daffodils were blooming golden gay;
The birch trees budded purple on the hill;
The rose, that clambered up the window--sill,
Put forth a crimson shoot. All yesterday
The winds about the casement chilly blew,
But now the breeze that played before the door
So caught the dead leaves that I thought there flew
Brown butterflies up from the grassy floor.
--But someone said you came not. Ah, too true!
And I, I thought that Winter reigned once more.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Who Cares?
What ever happens when a love goes wrong
When a love goes wrong some morning,
Goes wrong like the singer of a blackbird song
That a blackbird's not been born in?
Lost like the flutter of a butterfly's flight
In the wild south wind's clash-clatter,
Or a heartbeat stopped as an oak tree's lopped;
Who cares?
Why? What does it matter?
What ever happens to a love-lost love
To a love-lost love, come Autumn,
Or a bare beech, birch, or a grey stone church
Or the leaves that the birch tree brought them;
To walk in the shelter of a shaded lane
With the last of the lost love's chatter,
Like the half of a whole, or a lonely soul,
Who cares?
Why? What does it matter?
What ever happens to the other one - you
To the other you, half a love lonely,
Do you care, do you weep, do you rest, do you sleep
When you love alone, loving me only?
Will you heave some sigh in your memory's eye
For the scenes of our springtime laughter,
Or burn some flame to erase my name...
Who cares?
Why? What does it matter?
11 December 1975
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Berkshires in April
It is not Spring -- not yet --
But at East Schaghticoke I saw an ivory birch
Lifting a filmy red mantle of knotted buds
Above the rain-washed whiteness of her arms.
It is not Spring -- not yet --
But at Hoosick Falls I saw a robin strutting,
Thin, still, and fidgety,
Not like the puffed, complacent ball of feathers
That dawdles over the cidery Autumn loam.
It is not Spring -- not yet --
But up the stocky Pownal hills
Some springy shrub, a scarlet gash on the grayness,
Climbs, flaming, over the melting snows.
It is not Spring -- not yet --
But at Williamstown the willows are young and golden,
Their tall tips flinging the sun's rays back at him;
And as the sun drags over the Berkshire crests,
The willows glow, the scarlet bushes burn,
The high hill birches shine like purple plumes,
A royal headdress for the brow of Spring.
It is the doubtful, unquiet end of Winter,
And Spring is pulsing out of the wakening soil.
poem by Clement Wood
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My Playmate
The pines were dark on Ramoth hill,
Their song was soft and low;
The blossoms in the sweet May wind
Were falling like the snow.
The blossoms drifted at our feet,
The orchard birds sang clear;
The sweetest and the saddest day
It seemed of all the year.
For, more to me than birds or flowers,
My playmate left her home,
And took with her the laughing spring,
The music and the bloom.
She kissed the lips of kith and kin,
She laid her hand in mine
What more could ask the bashful boy
Who fed her father's kine?
She left us in the bloom of May
The constant years told o'er
Their seasons with as sweet May morns,
But she came back no more.
I walk, with noiseless feet, the round
Of uneventful years;
Still o'er and o'er I sow the spring
And reap the autumn ears.
She lives where all the golden year
Her summer roses blow;
The dusky children of the sun
Before her come and go.
There haply with her jewelled hands
She smooths her silken gown,-
No more the homespun lap wherein
I shook the walnuts down.
The wild grapes wait us by the brook,
The brown nuts on the hill,
And still the May-day flowers make sweet
The woods of Follymill.
The lilies blossom in the pond,
The bird builds in the tree,
The dark pines sing on Ramoth hill
The slow song of the sea.
I wonder if she thinks of them,
And how the old time seems,-
If ever the pines of Ramoth wood
Are sounding in her dreams.
I see her face, I hear her voice;
Does she remember mine?
And what to her is now the boy
Who fed her father's kine?
What cares she that the orioles build
For other eyes than ours,-
That other hands with nuts are filled,
And other laps with flowers?
O playmate in the golden time!
Our mossy seat is green,
Its fringing violets blossom yet,
The old trees o'er it lean.
The winds so sweet with birch and fern
A sweeter memory blow;
And there in spring the veeries sing
The song of long ago.
And still the pines of Ramoth wood
Are moaning like the sea,-
The moaning of the sea of change
Between myself and thee!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Images
I
Like a gondola of green scented fruits
Drifting along the dark canals of Venice,
You, O exquisite one,
Have entered into my desolate city.
II
The blue smoke leaps
Like swirling clouds of birds vanishing.
So my love leaps forth toward you,
Vanishes and is renewed.
III
A rose-yellow moon in a pale sky
When the sunset is faint vermilion
In the mist among the tree-boughs
Art thou to me, my beloved.
IV
A young beech tree on the edge of the forest
Stands still in the evening,
Yet shudders through all its leaves in the light air
And seems to fear the stars -
So are you still and so tremble.
V
The red deer are high on the mountain,
They are beyond the last pine trees.
And my desires have run with them.
VI
The flower which the wind has shaken
Is soon filled again with rain;
So does my heart fill slowly with tears,
Until you return.
poem by Richard Aldington
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Hora Stellatrix
The stars hang thick in the apple tree,
The south wind smells of the pungent sea,
Gold tulip cups are heavy with dew.
The night's for you, Sweetheart, for you!
Starfire rains from the vaulted blue.
Listen! The dancing of unseen leaves.
A drowsy swallow stirs in the eaves.
Only a maiden is sorrowing.
'T is night and spring, Sweetheart, and spring!
Starfire lights your heart's blossoming.
In the intimate dark there's never an ear,
Though the tulips stand on tiptoe to hear,
So give; ripe fruit must shrivel or fall.
As you are mine, Sweetheart, give all!
Starfire sparkles, your coronal.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Strong Strong Wind
We walked away before
There were too many storms
We could not get throught
But I still kept loving you
Now fate brought you back to me
This time I won't let you leave
I'm holding on to you, forever,
I'm never letting go
The time I spent away from you
was time that made me see
I need to live this life with you
I need you here with me
Now it would take a strong, strong wind
To take me from your arms again
To take me from your side
It would take a strong, strong wind
To pull away this heart of mine
To make us break apart this time
It would take a strong, strong wind
Hearts sometimes lose their way
But they find their way back someday
To the arms they need
And I need you like the air I breathe
The time I spent away from you was time
lost in the rain
I'm meant to live this life with you
That's something nothing can change
And it would take a strong, strong wind
To take me from your arms again
To take me from your side
It would take a strong, strong wind
To pull away this heart of mine
To make us break apart this time
It would take a strong, strong wind
This time I'm holding on with everything
This time I won't let go for anything
It would take a strong, strong wind
To take me from your arms again
To take me from your side
It would take a strong, strong wind
To pull away this heart of mine
To make us break apart this time
It would take a strong, strong wind
Strong, strong wind
song performed by by Air Supply
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trees
Green with spendour when Summer's here,
Brown contender in Autumn's sphere,
Bare the branches in Winter's embrace,
New growth created, when Spring shows her face.
Stalwart trunks, with many years standing,
Leaves when over, steadily landing,
Branches swaying in the breeze,
How I love all kinds of trees.
Forests of green, where they all meet,
Swaying together as they all greet,
Each morning, when the light appears,
Each growing slowly over the years.
Sentinels of the land they survey,
Strong and upstanding in every way,
Graceful, mighty, powerful and fine,
Tall and sleek just like the Pine.
The Oak, Ash, Sycamore and Lime,
The Rowan, White Beam and Silver Birch sublime,
Each one giving of their glorious best,
To the World - The World's been blest.
What would we do without our trees,
Don't cut them down, will you please,
Remember how they give us shade,
From the sun, within the glade.
Stand and study these majestic creations,
Upright descendants of past relations,
Their dignity, against all weathers,
If it were us, we'd lose our tethers.
But these gallant trees require our care,
They give oxygen, in the air
That we breathe, so, if we want to survive,
Let us keep our trees alive.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Strong, Strong Wind
We were too hateful
There were too many storms
We could not get through
But I still kept loving you
Fate brought you back to me
This time i won't let you leave
I'm holding on to you Forever
I'm never letting go
The time I spent away from you
Was time that made me see
I need to live my life with you
I need you here with me
And It would take a strong, strong wind
To take me from your arms again
To take me from your side
And It would take a strong, strong wind
To pull away this heart of mine
Make us break apart this time
And It would take a strong, strong wind
Hearts sometimes lose their way
But they find their way back someday
To the arms they need
And I need you like the air I breathe
The time I spent away from you
Was time lost in the rain
I meant to live my life with you
That's something nothing can change
And It would take a strong, strong wind
To take me from your arms again
To take me from your side
And It would take a strong, strong wind
To pull away this heart of mine
Make us break apart this time
And It would take a strong, strong wind
This time I'm holding on with everything
This time I won't let go for anything
And It would take a strong, strong wind
To take me from your arms again
To take me from your side
And It would take a strong, strong wind
To pull away this heart of mine
Make us break apart this time
And It would take a strong, strong wind
song performed by by Heart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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