Edlesborough
Beyond the Chiltern coast, this church:
A lighthouse in dry seas of standing corn.
Bees hive in the tower; the outer stone
Pared and frittered in sunlight, flakes with the years:
Clunch crumbles, but silence, exaltation, endures.
The brass-robed Rector stretched on his tomb endures.
Within, we go upon the dragon and the bat,
Walk above the world, without,
Uplifted among grey lavender, beech and sycamore,
Shades of the sea-born chalk, indelible and austere.
If we see history from this hill
It is upon its own conditions, here
Each season swirls and eddies the circle of a year
Round the spectator church, and human eyes
Take, on its plinth, a long focus of centuries.
We seem like gods on any hill.
From here all toil resembles rest, and yet
Unlike a god we feel ourselves shut out.
Surely that farm in a carved blue curve of trees
So still with all its creatures, holds the unattainable peace?
It is Time's camouflage deceives us.
There it extends like space: whatever moves
(A horse to drink, a reaper to stack the sheaves)
Displays the movement in its whole succession,
Not a change of terms, only a changed relation.
Deceit or truth? The dead possess the hill
In battlements of Totternhoe or slate;
The view is ours, the range and ache of sight.
If Time serves: in a common space unrolls
This Resurrection field, with sheaves in glory like risen souls.
poem by Anne Barbara Ridler
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Related quotes
Lavender Hill
I want to walk eternity,
In through the land of make believe.
And watch the clouds roll over me,
And let the sun shine down on me.
The only place that I wanna be,
Lavender hill for me.
Wish I could live on sugar and milk,
Then I could live on lavender hill.
Then I could raise my head to the sky,
And let the sun saturate me with love.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill,
Everybody loves lavender hill.
Even the bird that sits in the tree,
Seems to sing sweet melodies.
Even the breeze is whispering,
Lavender hill for me.
While people eat their biscuits with tea,
They dream of daffodils that sway in the breeze.
And every sunday afternoon,
Tidy ladies shine their shoes.
And every little lady dreams,
Lavender memories.
Lavender hill for me.
Lavender hill for me.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Better Part
THERE'S a grey old church on a wind-swept hill
Where three bent yew trees cower,
The gipsy roses grow there still,
And the thyme and Saint John's gold flower,
The pale blue violets that love the chalk
Cling light round the lichened stone,
And starlings chatter and grey owls talk
In the belfry o' nights alone.
It's a thousand leagues and a thousand years
From the brick-built, gas-lit town
To the little church where the wild thyme hears
The bees and the breeze of the down.
The town is crowded and hard and rough;
Let those fight in its press who will--
But the little churchyard is quiet enough,
And there's room in the churchyard still.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Utter Space
I come from outer space at least I think I do
I need a change of pace thats why I walk with you
Its a change up-left-one-two
In outer space
Ive had a change of heart Im tired of being the best
I need another part to make an educated guess
And help me pass the test
In outer space
In outer space
In outer space
I come from outer space at least I think I do
I need another face I need one just like you
Its a change up-left-one-two
In outer space
In outer space
In outer space
The space
Outer space
The space
In outer space
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slime Creatures From Outer Space
Things just havent been the same
Since the flying saucer came
Now the aliens are on the loose
Well, we tried to hold em back
Tried to ward off their attack
But our atom bombs were just no use
They were ugly, they were mean
Biggest heads I ever seen
They made everybody scream and shout
First they leveled tokyo
Then new york was next to go
Boy I really wish theyd cut it out
They wasted everybody on my block
There goes the neighborhood
Theyll zap you with their death ray eyes
And blow you up real good
Run for your lives
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
Theyre not very nice to the human race
(slime creatures from outer space)
Theres more comin every day
And they just wont go away
Now theyre reproducing in the sewers
They got slimy lizard skin
And an evil lookin grin
And they sure could use some manicures
They got hands all covered with fungus
They got eyes like some kinda bug
I sure hope they dont come in here
I just shampooed the rug
Run for your lives
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
Theyre really makin a mess of this place.
(slime creatures)
(slime creatures)
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
Theyll rip your head off just for fun
Theyll paralyze your mind
Theyre wearin out their welcome
I dont think I like their kind
Theyll suck your brain out through a straw
You just cant trust those guys
So hide the children, lock the doors
And always watch the skies
Look out, here come the
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
Theyre an intergalactic disgrace
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
I wish theyd just get outta my face
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
Theyre makin a big fat mess of this place
(slime creatures)
(slime creatures)
Oh, where did they come from?
What do they want from us?
Who do they think they are?
(slime creatures, slime creatures)
Why dont they leave me alone?
(slime creatures, slime creatures.)
Theyre really getting on my nerves
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Year Song
WE climb the hill; the mist conceals
That valley where we could not stay;
Surely this hill's crest, gained, reveals
The glory of the sunlit day.
The hill is climbed. Still shadow-land--
Still darkling looms another hill.
Oh, weary feet!--climb that to find
A new ascent, 'mid shadows still!
We dare not stop or think of rest,
This one hill may be all that lies
Between us and our souls' desire--
The splendour of the eastern skies.
Through long long lives we till and tend,
Sow, weed, and water, all in vain;
Without the flower we looked to find,
Each year springs blooms and dies again.
Bowed down with our unanswered prayers,
Our face averted from our past,
We watch each year grow green, and cry,
'Surely this brings our flower at last!'
Failure on failure! What! tired out?
Too tired to live? Heart, dare you die
When this new year may bud and bear
Your longed-for flower of Liberty?
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Goat Hill
Goat Hill
Walking out the door that man told me to go to hell
My son asked mommy where’s Goat Hill
I said I don’t know son it must be through the valley
My son said mommy lets go there
Up to goat hill
I bet it’s on top of the mountain
I bet there is waterfalls, birds, trees, pretty flowers for all the butterflies and honey bees
I said son if we could I’m sure we would
Most definitely go up to goat hill
I’m not ever going to take you where that man said to go
That place is an internal melting pot
And its way to hot
There’s no mountains with snow on top
No waterfalls trees birds butterflies or honey bees in the place that man said to go
Son I know you are good
Some day together I believe we will find the place called Goat Hill
You found somewhere in your mind
Where life is gentle and Kind
Everyday and every night all the time
Son I bet up on Goat Hill we will only see Gods will being done by the Father and the Son
poem by E.Marie AldrichCreasy
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Please
Send your flames to the spirit, when it endures,
Imprisoned sighs in black midnight,
Near the spring hill, when the gentle lamb
Offers itself, the deepest pain endures;
O love that rises in the heart
Like a round light and endures a soft shape,
So that this earthen vessel breaks.
poem by Georg Trakl
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The Rainbow
The rain came down in swirls that day,
The rain came down in sheets,
We sat in the back of the S.U.V.
As the rain, it turned to sleet.
‘I think it’ll show by Bleddows Hill
When the storm decides to pass’,
I said to Ben as the clock struck ten
From the tower of Gormenghast!
I set the G.P.S. to range,
And checked the lat. and long.,
I’d bought a second-hand S.D.A.*
To track it, right or wrong,
The rain kept up its steady beat
The clouds were dull and grey,
For never a beam of moon or sun
Had shown, for many a day!
‘You’d better go wait in the Jeep, ’ I said,
‘And turn your mobile on,
Be ready to move at the speed of light
At the first bright glimpse of the sun,
For no-one’s uncovered the pot of gold
That lies at the end of the bow,
It’s led them a merry dance, ’ I said,
‘But now, at last, we’ll know! ’
So Ben sat up in the Jeep, he did,
But wet, and drenched to the bone,
I got the feeling he’d rather be
Asleep, in bed, at home!
We sat for over an hour out there,
In wait, for the sun to shine,
While I took notes from the G.P.S.
As it helped to pass the time.
Then out from a gap in a darkening cloud
A beam shone out, from the sun,
The air was suddenly light and clear
And the rain was almost gone,
A coloured bow shot over the hill
And into the air, at last,
It curved toward the village to point
At the tower of Gormenghast!
I spat the figures to Ben on the phone
And the Jeep leapt over the hill,
I kept the bow on the G.P.S.,
And tracked its movement well;
‘It only moves if I follow it,
It stays if I hold it still…’
We thought that science had tamed the way
That a rainbow rose, and fell!
Ben chased the bow to the village street
To the tower of Gormenghast,
Where the S.D.A. had pinned it down
With the G.P.S. at last,
And he dug and dug, ‘til an earthen pot
Lay there with the note it spilled,
Inscribed: ‘This is the poor man’s end;
The rich bit’s over the hill! ’
(11 August 2011)
poem by David Lewis Paget
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A small thing
Rewind, if you will,
Here, I'll help, hold my hand as
We walk with the Gods across
The vastnesses of existence to
A small, blue world where
Creatures live, fight, are born
And die. In their numberless hordes.
Wave on wave, repeating whilst
The galaxies move in the void and
The small, blue world spins
Round it's lifegiving sun, where
One of the creatures dies
And sinks to the bottom
Of it's ocean. Here to lie as
The planet breathes, evolves and
It's surface moves, land appears,
Disappears and falls again.
New creatures are born, evolve
Are made extinct,
And replaced again.
Now, this is where we came in…
Fast forward by two
Hundred million
Years
Give or take
And, on a building site
Where another new animal is
Leaving it's mark on the
Small, blue world -
Stand with me and hold a bone
From that first aquatic animal,
Freshly unearthed - and reach
Across time, past the movement of
Stars, the galaxy and space
And know that here, right now
You are a part of it.
I wonder if that Icthyosaur
Ever dreamed?
poem by Martin O'Neill
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Woak Hill
When sycamore leaves wer a-spreadèn
Green-ruddy in hedges,
Bezide the red doust o' the ridges,
A-dried at Woak Hill;
I packed up my goods all a sheenèn
Wi' long years o' handlèn,
On dousty red wheel ov a waggon,
To ride at Woak Hill.
The brown thatchen ruf o' the dwellèn,
I then wer a-le{'a}vèn,
Had shelter'd the sleek head o' Me{'a}ry,
My bride at Woak Hill.
But now vor zome years, her light voot-vall
'S a-lost vrom the vloorèn.
Too soon vor my ja{'y} an' my childern,
She died at Woak Hill.
But still I do think that, in soul,
She do hover about us;
To ho vor her motherless childern,
Her pride at Woak Hill.
Zoo--lest she should tell me hereafter
I stole off 'ithout her,
An' left her, uncall'd at house-riddèn,
To bide at Woak Hill--
I call'd her so fondly, wi' lippèns
All soundless to others,
An' took her wi' a{'i}r-reachèn hand,
To my zide at Woak Hill.
On the road I did look round, a-talkèn
To light at my shoulder,
An' then led her in at the doorway,
Miles wide vrom Woak Hill.
An' that's why vo'k thought, vor a season,
My mind wer a-wandrèn
Wi' sorrow, when I wer so sorely
A-tried at Woak Hill.
But no; that my Me{'a}ry mid never
Behold herzelf slighted,
I wanted to think that I guided
My guide vrom Woak Hill.
poem by William Barnes
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Up On The Hill
We come from a long line of lenders
Who get rich just exploiting you spenders
But now we just manage our blenders
Up, up, up on the hill
It helps to be charming and funny
Have cute names like binky and bunny
But the main things still oodles of money
Up, up, up on the hill
Up on the hill we are the big cheeses
Up on the hill we own the cool breezes
Top of the heap is where we know we belong
Up on the hill above the confusion
Up on the hill we live our illusions
Up, up, up on the hill
Marmalade mansions beneath cloudless skies
Breathtaking vistas that baffle your eyes
Were passing our days in a rare atmosphere
Sun, sea, and stars, and warm breezes all year
Our blood is decidedly blue-ish
Were leery of anything newish
And or course, darling, nobodys jewish
Up, up, up on the hill
Up on the hill we are the big cheeses
Up on the hill we own the cool breezes
The top of the heap is where we know we belong
Up on the hill above the confusion
Up on the hill we live our illusions
Up, up, up on the hill
Up, up, up on the hill
Way up, up, up on the hill
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woak Hill
When sycamore leaves wer a-spreaden
Green-ruddy in hedges,
Bezide the red doust o' the ridges,
A-dried at Woak Hill;
I packed up my goods, all a-sheenen
Wi' long years o' handlen,
On dousty red wheels ov a waggon,
To ride at Woak Hill.
The brown thatchen ruf o' the dwellen
I then wer a-leaven,
Had sheltered the sleek head o' Meary,
My bride at Woak Hill.
But now vor zome years, her light voot-vall
'S a-lost vrom the vlooren.
To soon vor my jay an' my childern
She died at Woak Hill.
But still I do think that, in soul,
She do hover about us;
To ho vor her motherless childern,
Her pride at Woak Hill.
Zoo—lest she should tell me hereafter
I stole off 'ithout her,
An' left her, uncalled at house-ridden,
To bide at Woak Hill—
I called her so fondly, wi' lippens
All soundless to others,
An' took her wi' air-reachen hand
To my zide at Woak Hill.
On the road I did look round, a-talken
To light at my shoulder,
An' then led her in at the doorway,
Miles wide vrom Woak Hill.
An' that's why vo'k thought, vor a season,
My mind wer a-wandren
Wi' sorrow, when I wer so sorely
A-tried at Woak Hill.
But no; that my Meary mid never
Behold herzelf slighted,
I wanted to think that I guided
My guide vrom Woak Hill.
poem by Ingeborg Bachmann
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I Remember A Time
I remember a time when all was still
I climbed a small but bounteous hill.
The perfumed air was everywhere
and peace had come to visit there.
I looked around so I could see
if anyone had followed me.
But, no I found myself alone
and looked down at a tiny stone.
I picked it up and as time passed
I placed it back so it would last.
For all things should have its home.
None should be taken or have to roam.
I remember a time when I was still.
I felt quietness upon that hill.
I stayed for more than an hour or two
and then looked down and saw a view
that I knew could never compare with this.
I also sensed that I would miss
this little hill and the little stone
that showed me what it is I own.
I own the stillness of yesterday.
I own the peace of come what may.
And I understand that where I've grown
I'm just as content as that little stone.
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poem by Edwina Reizer
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song - The Old Swing Tree
Park at Inch crossroads outside the new Church
And walk slowly southwards through beech hedge and birch
Turn left where the hanging tree once used to be
Straight into the war hidden there by the trees
Where soldiers and huts lined both sides of the Road
When bombs fell round here sixty five years ago
By Ash and by bluebell, old sycamore
Here where the past laps like waves on the shore
Take the wild pathway that hides the Lost Road
Towards the new village that would one day grow
And there by the verge you’d have found the swing tree
In silence, no kids swooping there wild and free
Nor pledging of love proudly carved in that tree
Those crudely cut letters for you and for me
And somewhere between times, free in the years
A few broken hearts, a few smiles and tears
So many dreams that would never come true
And not just for us but for everyone too
As time and the world bring us changes to rue
The gentle give way and the selfish break through
And here am I wondering, listening and lost
In search of all those precious moments long gone
Around the old swing tree, felled and away
By tracks of love carved too deeply to fade
08 02 08 Renfrew
Country Dreamer
Id like to walk in a field with you,
Take my hat and my boots off too.
Id like to lie in a field with you.
Would you like to do it too, may?
Would you like to do it too?
Id like to stand in a stream with you,
Roll my trousers up and not feel blue.
Id like to wash in a stream with you.
Would you like to do it too?
You and i, country dreamer,
When theres nothing else to do;
Me oh my, conutry dreamer,
Make a country dream come true.
Id like to climb up a hill with you,
Stand on top and admire the view.
Id like to roll down a hill with you.
Would you like to do it too, may?
Would you like to do it too?
Id like to climb up a hill with you,
Take my hat and my boots off too.
Id like to lie in a field with you.
Would you like to do it too, may?
Would you like to do it too?
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Corn-fields of Endor
Standing on a hill of Jezreel,
Watching growing corn in the field,
Listens she does to the birds’ song
And to the trilling crickets’ chirp.
The sun now pass the most far hills
Means the days’ work is over and done.
Soon the night guard will shut city gates
And all eyes will yield to the dark.
By music of the spirit of silence,
The visions of rest are made to dance.
Then in the middle of the darkest night,
She arises from slumber and the bed,
And leaves the sweet relaxing visions
She had waltzing through her head.
Laying aside all her night garments,
Off she runs to her nightly chore.
Running around the corn they planted,
Makes her sacred circle ‘bout the field.
Magic footsteps giving blessing
By her dance and dark undressing.
Soon passed the summer season
And away went her warmest sigh.
Corn in green and golden garments,
Stood in ripened splendor gleaming.
With its emerald sheaths bursting,
Send its gold rays into the sky.
To the harvest come young maidens,
To strip the ears of their garments,
Laughing under the spreading trees,
They sing the blessings of Jezreel.
poem by Albert Price
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When First I Came Here
WHEN first I came here I had hope,
Hope for I knew not what. Fast beat
My heart at the sight of the tall slope
Or grass and yews, as if my feet
Only by scaling its steps of chalk
Would see something no other hill
Ever disclosed. And now I walk
Down it the last time. Never will
My heart beat so again at sight
Of any hill although as fair
And loftier. For infinite
The change, late unperceived, this year,
The twelfth, suddenly, shows me plain.
Hope now,--not health nor cheerfulness,
Since they can come and go again,
As often one brief hour witnesses,--
Just hope has gone forever. Perhaps
I may love other hills yet more
Than this: the future and the maps
Hide something I was waiting for.
One thing I know, that love with chance
And use and time and necessity
Will grow, and louder the heart's dance
At parting than at meeting be.
poem by Edward Thomas
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Lo And Behold
Lonely by day
Empty and cold
Only to say
Lo and behold
Deep in the night
Down in my dreams
Glorious sight
This soul has seen
There's a well on the hill
You just can't kill for Jesus
There's a well on the hill
Let it be
I don't build no heathen temples
Where the Lord has done laid his hand
There's a well on the hill
Let it be
Everyone's talking 'bout the gospel story
Some shall sink and some shall rise
Everyone's talking 'bout the train to glory
Long, long time 'til it gets here to you, baby
There's a well on the hill
You just can't kill for Jesus
There's a well on the hill
Let it be
I don't build no heathen temples
Where the Lord has done laid a hand
There's a well on the hill
Let it be
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Planets in Space
the planets in space
are realised souls
in meditation
round and round
they go counting chants
six years, ten years, a hundred years
the planets in space
if you can see
what holds them
among glittering stars
if your eyes could see
through divine fallacy
we - mere flashes of energy
to the plants, fishes
shadows to dogs
logs to ants
planets in space
they are realised souls
in meditation
each one revolves
with a sacred chant
one year, twenty years,
a hundred years
round and round
encircling divine power
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Ballade Of Cleopatra's Needle
Ye giant shades of RA and TUM,
Ye ghosts of gods Egyptian,
If murmurs of our planet come
To exiles in the precincts wan
Where, fetish or Olympian,
To help or harm no more ye list,
Look down, if look ye may, and scan
This monument in London mist!
Behold, the hieroglyphs are dumb
That once were read of him that ran
When seistron, cymbal, trump, and drum
Wild music of the Bull began;
When through the chanting priestly clan
Walk'd Ramses, and the high sun kiss'd
This stone, with blessing scored and ban -
This monument in London mist.
The stone endures though gods be numb;
Though human effort, plot, and plan
Be sifted, drifted, like the sum
Of sands in wastes Arabian.
What king may deem him more than man,
What priest says Faith can Time resist
While THIS endures to mark their span -
This monument in London mist?
ENVOY.
Prince, the stone's shade on your divan
Falls; it is longer than ye wist:
It preaches, as Time's gnomon can,
This monument in London mist!
poem by Andrew Lang
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