Lodging with the Old Man of the Stream
Men's hearts love gold and jade;
Men's mouths covet wine and flesh.
Not so the old man of the stream;
He drinks from his gourd and asks nothing more.
South of the stream he cuts firewood and grass;
North of the stream he has built wall and roof.
Yearly he sows a single acre of land;
In spring he drives two yellow calves.
In these things he finds great repose;
Beyond these he has no wish or care.
By chance I meet him walking by the water-side;
He took me home and lodged me in his thatched hut.
When I parted from him, to seek market and Court,
This old man asked my rank and pay.
Doubting my tale, he laughed loud and long:
'Privy Councillors do not sleep in barns.'
Related quotes
Journeys end
The stream meanders to and fro.
Here where the cattle come to drink
the yellow cowslips gaily grow.
The weeping willows stooping low
adorn the banks on either side.
The stream continues in its flow.
Past meadows where the cattle graze
and fields where corn is ripening
but here and there red poppies blaze.
The stream now to a river grown
now deep and wide; it gathers strength
Its purpose to itself unknown.
Past cottages which stand alone.
Small villages and market towns
and bridges built of weathered stone.
It has become a thoroughfare
which slices through the city’s heart
With rush and bustle everywhere.
The docks and quays and factories
confine the river in its course.
There is no grass there are no trees.
The river flows on turgidly
until at last it gains release
and flows into the open sea.
But in the distance still the stream
meanders gently to and fro
Where cowslips nod and lovers dream.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Gardener LXXXIII: She Dwelt on the Hillside
She dwelt on the hillside by edge
of a maize-field, near the spring that
flows in laughing rills through the
solemn shadows of ancient trees. The
women came there to fill their jars,
and travellers would sit there to rest
and talk. She worked and dreamed
daily to the tune of the bubbling
stream.
One evening the stranger came down
from the cloud-hidden peak; his locks
were tangled like drowsy snakes. We
asked in wonder, "Who are you?"
He answered not but sat by the
garrulous stream and silently gazed at
the hut where she dwelt. Our hearts
quaked in fear and we came back home
when it was night.
Next morning when the women
came to fetch water at the spring by
the deodar trees, they found the doors
open in her hut, but her voice was gone
and where was her smiling face?
The empty jar lay on the floor and her
lamp had burnt itself out in the
corner. No one knew where she had
fled to before it was morning--and the
stranger had gone.
In the month of May the sun grew
strong and the snow melted, and we
sat by the spring and wept. We
wondered in our mind, "Is there a
spring in the land where she has gone
and where she can fill her vessel in
these hot thirsty days?" And we
asked each other in dismay, "Is there
a land beyond these hills where we
live?"
It was a summer night; the breeze
blew from the south; and I sat in her
deserted room where the lamp stood
still unlit. When suddenly from
before my eyes the hills vanished like
curtains drawn aside. "Ah, it is
she who comes. How are you, my
child? Are you happy? But where
can you shelter under this open sky?
And, alas! our spring is not here to
allay your thirst."
"Here is the same sky," she said,
"only free from the fencing hills,--
this is the same stream grown into a
river,--the same earth widened into
a plain." "Everything is here," I
sighed, "only we are not." She
smiled sadly and said, "You are in
my heart." I woke up and heard the
babbling of the stream and the rustling
of the deodars at night.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To His Two Children
In the land of Wu the mulberry leaves are green,
And thrice the silkworms have gone to sleep.
In East Luh where my family stay,
I wonder who is sowing those fields of ours.
I cannot be back in time for the spring doings,
Yet I can help nothing, traveling on the river.
The south wind blowing wafts my homesick spirit
And carries it up to the front of our familiar tavern.
There I see a peach tree on the east side of the house
With thick leaves and branches waving in the blue mist.
It is the tree I planted before my parting three years ago.
The peach tree has grown now as tall as the tavern roof,
While I have wandered about without returning.
Ping-yang, my pretty daughter, I see you stand
By the peach tree and pluck a flowering branch.
You pluck the flowers, but I am not there
How your tears flow like a stream of water!
My little son, Po-chin, grown up to your sister's shoulders,
You come out with her under the peach tree,
But who is there to pat you on the back?
When I think of these things, my senses fail,
And a sharp pain cuts my heart every day.
Now I tear off a piece of white silk to write this letter,
And send it to you with my love a long way up the river.
Karma
I drop a stone into the ocean
Every choice another turn of the screw
Another wheel set in motion
With every single thing I do
Its there in the air that I breathe
Its in my whisper and scream
Inside everything I believe
And its all gonna come around someday
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
There is no absolution whether Im the garden or the rose
If I aint part of the solution, yeah you know how that goes
You can always leave but you bring it all back home someday
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
Every single thing I say, everyone that I betray
Any love that I take when I do not make it in return
Every thing I do and every time Ive been unfaithful too
All the things that I believe are lessons I must learn
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Stream
there is a certain stream that all of us
would like to swim
where we are like children
following no other person's command
it is not a stream of water
that makes us wet and shiver
and make us think about some
kind of thirsts and satiation
it is something that we must not
cross lest we find ourselves in another
world and leave everyone
everything as they are and we
do not want it
we are scared we hesitate
to throw our feet in there
but then there is no choice
the nights, the lonely nights
take us all there
this is the stream of consciousness
that we all have
we think and love and speak in silence
in the light of our hearts
we travel inward, we hope we
truly become ourselves
invented, reinvented over and over again
to see our real faces
we simply float in there
we flow and we can never stop
gladly beyond as he calls it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Exile’s Letter
(To Yüan)
Remember how Tung built us a place to drink in
At Lo-yang south of the T’ien-ching bridge?
White jade and gold bought songs and laughter.
We drank forgetting Court and princes.
Those amongst us, wisest and bravest
On all this side of rivers and oceans,
Hearts high as clouds, and you and I together,
Cared nothing at crossing lakes and mountains
Only to share our thoughts and feelings.
Then I went out south-east to cut the laurel,
You north of Lo River still lost in dreams.
No joy in being parted. Soon back again in mountains,
Tracking the thirty-six twists and turns of valley,
By the streams bright with a thousand flowers,
By endless waters,
Hearing pine-trees sighing,
Till we met the Hang-tung Governor
On a gold and silver saddle,
And Hu the True-Taoist drew us with his pipe playing,
Making unearthly music out of the high tower,
Strange sounds of the mating phoenix.
The Governor’s sleeves kept time to the music,
So that he rose, drunk, and danced a little,
Brought his brocade coat, covered my body.
I fell asleep, head resting in his lap.
By day our hearts rose to the nine heavens.
At evening we scattered like blown stars or rain,
I to my far mountain over hills and waters,
You to your own house by the bridge of Wei.
That winter I made your father’s North City,
Loved you for the way you did me honour,
Sharing your wealth, thinking nothing of it.
Wine there - in cups of amber,
Food there - on plates of jade.
I ate and drank, no thoughts of returning.
We went out to the west. The river parts there,
Round the ancient shrine of a Prince of Chou.
Boats on the waters to drums and piping.
Waves made of dragon scales. Jade-green rushes.
We drank and drank, lived the passing moments,
Forgetting how they go like blossoms or snowfall.
Flushed with wine, warm in glow of sunset,
The hundred-foot deep pool mirroring bright faces,
Dancing-girls delicate as willows in the moonlight,
Notes lost in the silken sleeves’ fluttering.
A white breeze blew their song to the sky,
Winding through the air, twisting in the cloud-lanes.
Never again. Never again such joy.
I went west but got no promotion.
White-headed back to eastern hills.
Met once more south of Wei’s bridge.
Parted again north of Tso’s terrace.
And if you ask my feelings at parting,
They were inside me like Spring flowers falling.
No way to say what’s in the heart. Never.
I call in the boy. Have him kneel here, tie this,
To send my feelings through a thousand miles.
Fishing in the Wei River
In waters still as a burnished mirror's face,
In the depths of Wei, carp and grayling swim.
Idly I come with my bamboo fishing-rod
And hang my hook by the banks of Wei stream.
A gentle wind blows on my fishing-gear
Softly shaking my ten feet of line.
Though my body sits waiting for fish to come,
My heart has wandered to the Land of Nothingness.
Long ago a white-headed man
Also fished at the same river's side;
A hooker of men, not a hooker of fish,
At seventy years, he caught Wen Wang.
But I, when I come to cast my hook in the stream,
Have no thought either of fish or men.
Lacking the skill to capture either prey,
I can only bask in the autumn water's light.
When I tire of this, my fishing also stops;
I go to my home and drink my cup of wine.
The Stream Is Flowing From The West
The stream is flowing from the west;
As if it poured from yonder skies,
It wears upon its rippling breast
The sunset's golden dyes;
And bearing onward to the sea,
'T will clasp the isle that holdeth thee.
I dip my hand within the wave;
Ah! how impressionless and cold!
I touch it with my lip, and lave
My forehead in the gold.
It is a trivial thought, but sweet,
Perhaps the wave will kiss thy feet.
Alas! I leave no trace behind --
As little on the senseless stream
As on thy heart, or on thy mind;
Which was the simpler dream,
To win that warm, wild love of thine,
Or make the water whisper mine?
Dear stream! some moons must wax and wane
Ere I again shall cross thy tide,
And then, perhaps, a viewless chain
Will drag me to her side,
To love with all my spirit's scope,
To wish, do everything but -- hope.
poem by Henry Timrod
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Gallant maiden...Lets fish...
Lonely stream, where do you depart with your lover?
Lovely maiden, why do you walk on this lonely stream?
Lovely song brace with echoes...
I fish this stream my lovely maiden...
I can't fish...
Come, lets fish...
If you were this fish...
I will take care of you...
Come, i can't eat this fish...
We caught...
Where my gallant maiden, Where do you live?
You make me question this stream...
You make me guard our departed stream...
Come lets fish...
Lets, start over...
Before, this stream drys out...
Before, we can no longer fish again...
Oh, expire fish i treasure your bone for my lost lover...
I held you in my heart forever and ever...
Creatures In My Home
Creatures in my home:
There’s a boogie man under my bed,
Skeletons and ghosts in the attic,
Trolls in the basement,
Pixies and fairy’s in the garden,
Tree nymphs in the trees,
And water nymphs and mermaids in the stream,
During the day they sleep but during the night they come out and play,
So when my teacher asks why I fall asleep in class I can say,
I was swapping stories with the boogie man under my bed,
Playing cards with the skeletons and ghosts in the attic,
He lost his head when I won but that’s another story,
Swapping stories with the trolls in the basement,
Danced with the fairy’s and pixies in the garden,
Played hid and go seek with the tree nymphs at the trees,
And went swimming with the water nymphs and mermaids at the stream,
After that I get a detention but I can still say I told the truth.
poem by Kevin MacDonald
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fix You
When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
When the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
and ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
High up above or down below
when you're too in love to let it go
If you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth
Lights will guide you home
and ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face and I
Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face and I
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
song performed by by Coldplay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Down On Longboat Key
She sits and stares out the window at the water
Every night down at ....Cafe'
All alone she sips her pina colada
Talking to herself, dreaming time away
The story is that a dark haired stranger
Stole her heart many years ago
He promised her he'd come back and take her
Around the world, bring her hills of gold
Chorus:
Down on Longboat Key
Where the island sand meet the Gulf Stream Bridge
Down on Longboat Key
She spends her life in a dream
On Longboat Key
Down on Longboat Key
Down on Longboat Key.
Each afternoon as the snugboats come in
She runs to meet them down at the pier
She sees the fishermen, the nets and the sunset
But she don't see him, her eyes fill with tears
She stands there looking at the crystal blue water
And in the coral she imagines pearls
She makes believe he brought them all the way from China
Then the water swirls
The blue-green water swirls
Chorus:
Down on Longboat Key
Where the island sand meet the Gulf Stream breeze
Down on Longboat Key
She spends her life in a dream
On Longboat Key
Down on Longboat Key
Down on Longboat Key.
Young sailors make a play to take her home
She says 'No, I'm already taken'
Oh, they just laugh when she mentions his name
She just keeps on waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting
Chorus:
Down on Longboat Key
Where the island sand meet the Gulf Stream breeze
Down on Longboat Key
She spends her life in a dream
On Longboat Key
Down on Longboat Key
Down on Longboat Key.
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Rivers Too Wide
(morrison)
The rivers too wide now for crossing
The waters rush too loud for talking
We never build bridges for walking
cause the rivers too wide
A gentle stream once flowed between us
But love could cross it easily
Till stormy skies brought bitter teardrops
And made that stream a raging river
Come between you and me
The rivers too wide now for crossing
The waters rush too loud for talking
We never build bridges for walking
Theres no getting to the other side
The rivers too wide now for crossing
The current goes too deep for mending
It looks like an unhappy ending
cause the rivers too wide
Good lessons learned are not forgotten
We gave up love to save our pride
Next time Im faced with rising waters
Ill build a bridge of love and kindness
Reaching to the other side
The rivers too wide now for crossing
The waters rush too loud for talking
We never build bridges for walking
Theres no getting to the other side
The rivers too wide now for crossing
The current goes too deep for mending
It looks like an unhappy ending
cause the rivers too wide
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Tears Of Pain
Tears of pain stream down my although I know you're in a better place
Wishing I could see your face..,
Tears of pain stream down my face, I know you won the race.
All your pain finally ends, you and I were close friends,
Tears of pain stream down my face, I'll still be here in the end,
Tears of pain stream down my face this is something I can't take.
It wasn't fare for you to go; I have never felt a deeper hole.
Tears of pain stream down my face I feel
Your presence, in my place
I sure do miss that smiling face,
Tears of pain stream down my face,
You were the brightness to fill my greys,
Tears of pain stream down my face
I miss the feeling of embrace,
When looking at your wonderful face
Tears of pain stream down my face.
It came to soon, but your alright I try to talk to you every night.
now I know you're in a better place, The tears of pain have withered away.
poem by Raeanne Runyemba
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Water Mouth-Full
A passing ruptured river or stream,
I define terror as this single rupture.
You have found water from utter violence,
Violence from the jungle behind,
All the violence, all of its sound and disgust.
I dip my mouth into the freshwater, fighting books
Of the water, of river stream.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Dam that Keele Built
This is the dam that Keele built.
This is the stream that brought the water to fill the dam that Keele built;
This is the Water and Sewer Brigade,
That measured the stream that brought the water to fill the dam that Keele built;
This is the Engineer by Trade --
Head of the Water and Sewer Brigade,
Who measured the stream that brought the water to fill the dam that Keele built;
These are the Calculations made
By the Eminent Engineer by Trade,
Head of the Water and Sewer Brigade,
Who measured the stream that brought the water to fill the dam that Keele built;
This is the scornful Mr Wade,
Who sneered at the Calculations made
By the Eminent Engineer by Trade,
Head of the Water and Sewer Brigade,
Who measured the stream that brought the water to fill the dam that Keele built;
This is the Minister quite dismayed
At the sight of the Scornful Mr Wade,
Who sneered at the Calculations made
By the Eminent Engineer by Trade,
Head of the Water and Sewer Brigade,
Who measured the stream that brought the water to fill the dam that Keele built;
This is the Sydneyite afraid
That a serious blunder will be made,
Because of the Minister, quite dismayed
At the sight of the Scornful Mr Wade,
Who sneered at the Calculations made
By the Eminent Engineer by Trade,
Head of the Water and Sewer Brigade,
Who measured the stream that brought the water to fill the dam that Keele built.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love In The Air
The moonlight shimmered on the water
of a small woodland stream.
We sit on the bank,
watching moonbeams dancing
on the growing ripples on the water,
from the pebbles that we throw.
The sound of the wise old owl,
and the rustle of the leaves
ruffled by the breeze.
The plop of our pebbles
dropping into the stream,
and our two hearts beating,
as we sit together
with arms around one another
underneath the moon.
We sit there enjoying
the love that is in the air.
24 June 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Green-Water Stream
To reach the Yellow-Flowered River
Go by the Green-Water Stream.
A thousand twists and turns of mountain
But the way there can’t be many miles.
The sound of water falling over rocks
And deep colour among pines.
Gently green floating water-plants.
Bright the mirrored reeds and rushes.
I am a lover of true quietness.
Watching the flow of clear water
I dream of sitting on the uncarved rock
casting a line on the endless stream.
poem by Wang Wei
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
Moonlight
Moonlight
dances
over the gourd
and its vines
on the roof of the village hut house
while
the white
pebbles
greet it
joyfully
down in the stream.
(October 17,1997)
poem by Sangnam Nam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Hudson
AFTER A LECTURE AT ALBANY
'T WAS a vision of childhood that came with its dawn,
Ere the curtain that covered life's day-star was drawn;
The nurse told the tale when the shadows grew long,
And the mother's soft lullaby breathed it in song.
'There flows a fair stream by the hills of the West,'--
She sang to her boy as he lay on her breast;
'Along its smooth margin thy fathers have played;
Beside its deep waters their ashes are laid.'
I wandered afar from the land of my birth,
I saw the old rivers, renowned upon earth,
But fancy still painted that wide-flowing stream
With the many-hued pencil of infancy's dream.
I saw the green banks of the castle-crowned Rhine,
Where the grapes drink the moonlight and change it to wine;
I stood by the Avon, whose waves as they glide
Still whisper his glory who sleeps at their side.
But my heart would still yearn for the sound of the waves
That sing as they flow by my forefathers' graves;
If manhood yet honors my cheek with a tear,
I care not who sees it,--no blush for it here!
Farewell to the deep-bosomed stream of the West!
I fling this loose blossom to float on its breast;
Nor let the dear love of its children grow cold,
Till the channel is dry where its waters have rolled!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!