The Song In The Dell
I KNOW a way
Of hearing what the larks and linnets say:
The larks tell of the sunshine and the sky;
The linnets from the hedges make reply,
And boast of hidden nests with mocking lay.
I know a way
Of keeping near the rabbits at their play:
They tell me of the cool and shady nooks
Where waterfalls disturb the placid brooks
That I may go and frolic in the spray.
I know a way
Of catching dewdrops on a night in May,
And threading them upon a spear of green,
That through their sides translucent may be seen
The sparkling hue that emeralds display.
I know a way
Of trapping sunbeams as they nimbly play
At hide-and-seek with meadow-grass and flowers,
And holding them in store for dreary hours
When winds are chill and all the sky is gray.
I know a way
Of stealing fragrance from the new-mown hay
And storing it in flasks of petals made,
To scent the air when all the flowers fade
And leave the woodland world to sad decay.
I know a way
Of coaxing snowflakes in their flight to stay
So still awhile, that, as they hang in air,
I weave them into frosty lace, to wear
About my head upon a sultry day.
poem by Charles Edward Carryl
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Related quotes
The Rush-Bearing At Ambleside
SUMMER is come, with her leaves and her flowers—
Summer is come, with the sun on her hours;
The lark in the clouds, and the thrush on the bough,
And the dove in the thicket, make melody now.
The noon is abroad, but the shadows are cool
Where the green rushes grow in the dark forest pool.
We seek not the hedges where violets blow,
There alone in the twilight of ev'ning we go;
They are love-tokens offered, when heavy with dew,
To a lip yet more fragrant—an eye yet more blue.
But leave them alone to their summer-soft dream—
We seek the green rushes that grow by the stream.
Away from the meadow, although the long grass
Be filled with young flowers that smile as we pass;
Where the bird's eye is bright as the sapphires that shine
When the hand of a beauty is decked from the mine.
We want not their gems, and we want not their flowers.
But we seek the green rush in the dark forest bowers.
The cowslip is ringing its fairy-like chime,
Sweet bells, by whose music Titania keeps time;
The rose-bush is covered with cups that unfold
Their petals that tremble in delicate gold.
But we seek not their blossoms in garlands to blend,
We seek the green rush where the willow-trees bend.
The green rush, the green rush, we bear it along
To the church of our village with triumph and song;
We strew the cold chancel, and kneel on it there,
While its fresh odours rise with our voices in prayer.
Hark the peal from the old tower in praise of it rings,
Let us seek the green rush by the deep woodland springs.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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A Roadway
Let those who will stride on their barren roads
And prick themselves to haste with self-made goads,
Unheeding, as they struggle day by day,
If flowers be sweet or skies be blue or gray:
For me, the lone, cool way by purling brooks,
The solemn quiet of the woodland nooks,
A song-bird somewhere trilling sadly gay,
A pause to pick a flower beside the way.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Spring Time Is Coming
Beautiful Spring is coming,
Ah, yes, will soon be here,
For the clear bright sun is shining
All human hearts to cheer.
One the brightest gems of nature
Is the orb that o'er us shines,
And o'er the wide creation,
It'll shine to the end of time.
The birds will soon be singing
On shrub and bough of trees,
Their notes will soon be ringing
Out, forth so merrily.
They love the merry spring time,
Those little birds we love,
They love the pleasant sunshine
That comes down from above.
We can hear them sweetly singing
From early morn, till night.
They make music in the woodland
Those little birds; so bright,
We should dearly love them,
Those little harmless things,
And when we hear their music,
We know that it is spring.
Ah; it's pleasant in the springtime,
All nature seems so gay.
Bright flowers in the sunshine,
Sweet fragrance can display.
The hills, and dales, and meadows,
So beautifully covered o'er;
With natures richest verdure,
The green grass, as of yore.
The winter will soon be over,
With its cold and chilly winds.
It is sad and dreary ever,
Yet its dying, free from sin.
Now the springtime is coming,
Ah, yes, will soon be here.
We will welcome in its coming
In this glad new year.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Ballade Of Truisms
Gold or silver, every day,
Dies to gray.
There are knots in every skein.
Hours of work and hours of play
Fade away
Into one immense Inane.
Shadow and substance, chaff and grain,
Are as vain
As the foam or as the spray.
Life goes crooning, faint and fain,
One refrain:
'If it could be always May!'
Though the earth be green and gay,
Though, they say,
Man the cup of heaven may drain;
Though, his little world to sway,
He display
Hoard on hoard of pith and brain:
Autumn brings a mist and rain
That constrain
Him and his to know decay,
Where undimmed the lights that wane
Would remain,
If it could be always May.
YEA, alas, must turn to NAY,
Flesh to clay.
Chance and Time are ever twain.
Men may scoff, and men may pray,
But they pay
Every pleasure with a pain.
Life may soar, and Fortune deign
To explain
Where her prizes hide and stay;
But we lack the lusty train
We should gain,
If it could be always May.
Envoy
Time, the pedagogue, his cane
Might retain,
But his charges all would stray
Truanting in every lane -
Jack with Jane -
If it could be always May.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Dream Flight Tiny Flowers
a dandelion dazzles
bright yellow petals
set among soft blades
green grass carpets
flowers waiting host bees
in pollen quest flights
petals fade to dreams
dandelion transcends
really to harness winds
assumes new dimensions
aeronautical aspirations
tiny flowers bunched seeds
together dream lift flights
to distant diverse fields
dandelion purpose blooms
dream flight tiny flowers
produce seed parachutes
compass aline on heavens
choose navigation stars
rich green grass maps
imagination showers
through blue skies
or grey black storms
watch seasons changes
feelings thoughts minds
souls dance time changes
through wonder ranges
yellow petals subtle changes
one day transformation clicks
into white honeycomb wishes
fades into spectral stems
preparations need seeds
in readiness to roam skies
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Play In The Sunshine
Oooh doggies!
We wanna play in the sunshine
We wanna be free
Without the help of a margarita or exstacy
We wanna kick like we used 2
Sign up on the dotted line
We gonna dance every dance
Like its gonna be the last time
We got 2 play in the sunshine
Turn all the lights up 2 10
I want 2 meet u (meet u), kiss u (kiss u),
Love u (love u), and miss u (miss u)
Do it all over again, do it all over again
We gonna play in the sunshine
Were gonna get over
Im feelin kind of lucky 2 night
Im gonna find my 4-leaf clover
Before my life is done
Some way, some how, Im gonna have fun
Play in the sunshine
We gonna love all our enemies
Till the gorilla falls off the wall
Were gonna rock him
Were gonna roll him
Were gonna teach him that love will make him tall (somehow)
Aah, pop goes the music
When the big white rabbit begin 2 talk
And the color green will make your best friends leave ya
It will make them do the walk
But thats cool
Cuz one day, everyday will be a yellow day
And lets play
We gonna play in the sunshine
Were gonna get over
Im feelin kind of lucky 2 night
Im gonna find my 4-leaf clover
Before my life is done
Some way, some how, Im gonna have fun
Play, play, play, play, play, play, play
We gonna play in the sunshine
Were gonna get over
Im feelin kind of lucky 2 night
Im gonna find my 4-leaf clover
Before my life is done
Some way, some how, Im gonna have fun
(play), (play),
(play) no, (play) no, (play) no
(come on, play) no!, (play) no!, (playplayplay) yes!
Drummer, do your thang
Drummer, drummer, do your thang
Drummer, drummer, drummer
Can I get some of that?
Lets get out of here (yeah)
(lalalalalalala play, laugh in the sunshine)
Were not afraid 2 (play, laugh in the sunshine)
We are going 2
(play, laugh in the sunshine)
(play, laugh in the sunshine)
La la la
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rose Pogonias
A saturated meadow,
Sun-shaped and jewel-small,
A circle scarcely wider
Than the trees around were tall;
Where winds were quite excluded,
And the air was stifling sweet
With the breath of many flowers, --
A temple of the heat.
There we bowed us in the burning,
As the sun's right worship is,
To pick where none could miss them
A thousand orchises;
For though the grass was scattered,
yet every second spear
Seemed tipped with wings of color,
That tinged the atmosphere.
We raised a simple prayer
Before we left the spot,
That in the general mowing
That place might be forgot;
Or if not all so favored,
Obtain such grace of hours,
that none should mow the grass there
While so confused with flowers.
poem by Robert Frost
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Green Fields And Running Brooks
Ho! green fields and running brooks!
Knotted strings and fishing-hooks
Of the truant, stealing down
Weedy backways of the town.
Where the sunshine overlooks,
By green fields and running brooks,
All intruding guests of chance
With a golden tolerance,
Cooing doves, or pensive pair
Of picnickers, straying there--
By green fields and running brooks,
Sylvan shades and mossy nooks!
And--O Dreamer of the Days,
Murmurer of roundelays
All unsung of words or books,
Sing green fields and running brooks!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Early Works - Oh To Be
Oh, to be at home again,
where lilies lie in fields
and larks fly overhead
while the sun warms each dropp of dew.
Oh, to be a child once more
in the spring of ones youth
to know the innocence of nature
in pastures always green.
Oh to see the green grass laze
as a breeze blows it to and fro
and know the perfume scent of flowers
along the hedgerows where they grow.
Oh, to be able to turn back the clock
that has too many times chimed,
and go back to our youth
of cartoons and nursery rhymes.
Oh, to be what will never be again
is and old mans plaintive joy
with wistful bouts of imagination
he wishes he were once more a boy.
10 August 2008
poem by David Harris
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I do not live in a world of flowers & clouds and mountains & rivers & brooks
I do not live in a world of flowers
I do not live in the world of blue clouds and green mountains and ricefields
I do not live in running rivers and stretching seas and clear brooks
Though I write about them
Though I miss the scent exuded by them in their kindness
Though I like the bees and butterflies that busy in their
Multicolored world with some rainbows and coolness
Of rain showers and warmth of sunshine so like
Paradise, so like the Eden of our ancient dreams,
But I do not live in the world of flowers
I cannot leave in the world of flowers
My land is this desert scorched by the noonday sun
My sea is this sand stretching from shore to shore
My outlook, my view is this misleading mirage
My clouds are these unresolved doubts and fears
And my air is this silence that only the dead can surmise.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Carnations: A Song
Stay while ye will, or go,
And leave no scent behind ye:
Yet trust me, I shall know
The place where I may find ye.
Within my Lucia's cheek,
(Whose livery ye wear)
Play ye at hide or seek,
I'm sure to find ye there.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Frangipani! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Leaves like half burnt toast,
Hang from the shrivelled branches
Of Frangipani.
Come monsoon showers;
It comes to life and flowers,
Savours in delight…
Seduced by sweet scent
Moths drawn by the fragrance, flock
At night for nectar.
Do they have a clue?
It’s fruitless search for nectar;
Trick up nature's sleeve,
To help pollinate
As moths flit over flowers;
Play designated role…
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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To Mommio
When I was a child, you showed me a meadow of flowers.
You told me their names and we stayed there for hours.
Buttercups glistened as they drank the sun’s rays
Amongst bluebells that glowed in their majestic ways.
I played in the meadow, but loved holding your hand.
You taught me about life and helped me understand
That love, like these flowers, though silent, can voice
A splendiferous message when it’s my choice,
To express love with actions like forgive and forget;
To greet all with a smile and be glad that we’ve met;
To lead a colorful, bountiful life and have fun,
Praising the heavens as do flowers the sun.
This selfless love that you’ve forever shown me
Has opened my eyes so that I’ll always see
The softness that buttercups and bluebells display
With their colors and scents that can lighten life’s way.
Thank you, dearest mother, for your hand from the start.
Though flowers will fade, your love lives deep in my heart.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mommio
When I was a child, you showed me a meadow of flowers.
You told me their names and we stayed there for hours.
Buttercups glistened as they drank the sun’s rays
Amongst bluebells that glowed in their majestic ways.
I played in the meadow, but loved holding your hand.
You taught me about life and helped me understand
That love, like these flowers, though silent, can voice
A splendiferous message when it’s my choice,
To express love with actions like forgive and forget;
To greet all with a smile and be glad that we’ve met;
To lead a colorful, bountiful life and have fun,
Praising the heavens as do flowers the sun.
This selfless love that you’ve forever shown me
Has opened my eyes so that I’ll always see
The softness that buttercups and bluebells display
With their colors and scents that can lighten life’s way.
Thank you, dearest mother, for your hand from the start.
Though flowers will fade, your love lives deep in my heart.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dearest Mother
When I was a child, you showed me a meadow of flowers.
You told me their names and we stayed there for hours.
Buttercups glistened as they drank the sun's rays
Amongst bluebells that glowed in their majestic ways.
I played in the meadow, but loved holding your hand.
You taught me about life and helped me understand
That love, like these flowers, though silent, can voice
A splendiferous message when it's my choice,
To express love with actions like forgive and forget;
To greet all with a smile and be glad that we've met;
To lead a colorful, bountiful life and have fun,
Praising the heavens as do flowers the sun.
This selfless love that you've forever shown me
Has opened my eyes so that I'll always see
The softness that buttercups and bluebells display
With their colors and scents that can lighten life's way.
Thank you, dearest mother, for your hand from the start.
Though flowers will fade, your love lives deep in my heart.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My world is beautiful!
My world is beautiful,
My worlds are beautiful,
Always it will,
Life is full of Nature's bounties
My sweet mother caress and
cares me,
Me and my friends, We look beautiful with what she
gave us,
We make our world happy and
beautiful,
Not worrying,
what she didn't give! I and my friends play hide and
seek,
Colourful butterfly,
Hide behind Flowers,
How thrilling to find these flying
flowers, butterflies dancing to my Heart's silent song! Flowers filling perfume to air,
Adding colours to life,
Shining Sun make them bright,
Lonesome dove sings at dawn,
Goodmorning dear,
Wake up and look at the world, sailing clouds say,
' have a nice day'
Gentle breeze keeping us cool,
Plants swing to my silent song! Flowers smiling in my lap,
Filling my heart with joy,
Dove fly around me and sings in
ears,
Look at smiling innocent flowers,
They smile at you, Though you kill them,
Separating their mother,
Listen to silent cry of plants,
Silent mourning of butterflies,
Can't you mourn,
yes now I am mourning and my heart weeps at death of smiling
flowers! Taking oath in presence of my
friends,
'Never will I kill flowers '!
my days will be more happy and
nice,
With playful smile of flowers!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Wood Rides
Who hath not felt the influence that so calms
The weary mind in summers sultry hours
When wandering thickest woods beneath the arms
Of ancient oaks and brushing nameless flowers
That verge the little ride who hath not made
A minutes waste of time and sat him down
Upon a pleasant swell to gaze awhile
On crowding ferns bluebells and hazel leaves
And showers of lady smocks so called by toil
When boys sprote gathering sit on stulps and weave
Garlands while barkmen pill the fallen tree
- Then mid the green variety to start
Who hath (not) met that mood from turmoil free
And felt a placid joy refreshed at heart
poem by John Clare
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Mystical Nature!
Morning dew glows with the kiss of Sunshine
Awakened by the touch of the rays, grass shine
Beauty so mesmerising, sublime and Divine
As day progresses, mist must become refine
As Night falls, chilling winds bring in dewdrops
Dew again covers all flowers, grass and crops
Waiting for Sun to come and warm the props
Only then, the melting starts and freezing stops
Dewdrops wait for sublimation, Sun waits for the absorption
Merging into each other is a true reflection of Divine Unification
Breeze brings Dew from clouds in Sky onto Earth for Sun, Creation
Life cycle rotates, All Five elements work together to perfection
Cool Nights and Warm Days
Mysterious are Nature's Ways.
poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
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Twas Summer
'Twas summer,-- through the opening grass
The joyous flowers upsprang,
The birds in all their different tribes
Loud in the woodlands sang:
Then forth I went, and wandered far
The wide green meadow o'er;
Where cool and clear the fountain play'd,
There strayed I in that hour.
Roaming on, the nightingale
Sang sweetly in my ear;
And, by the greenwood's shady side,
A dream came to me there;
Fast by the fountain, where bright flowers
Of sparkling hue we see,
Close sheltered from the summer heat,
That vision came to me.
All care was banished, and repose
Came o'er my wearied breast;
And kingdoms seemed to wait on me,
For I was with the blest.
Yet, while it seemed as if away
My spirit soared on high,
And in the boundless joys of heaven
Was wrapt in ecstacy,
E'en then, my body revelled still
In earth's festivity;
And surely never was a dream
So sweet as this to me.
Thus I dream'd on, and might have dwelt
Still on that rapturous dream,
When, hark! a raven's luckless note
(Sooth, 'twas a direful scream,)
Broke up the vision of delight,
Instant my joy was past:
O, had a stone but met my hand,
That hour had been his last....
poem by Walther von der Vogelweide
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Flowers
(orbison/dees)
When I was a boy I ran among the flowers
Looking left and right at the bright array
I played through the spring, whiled away the hours
Lingered with the flowers every day
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
When the summer ends and the storms of life are over
When the winter comes and the petals fall away
They may write it on my stone, he was just a roller
But he stopped to pick some flowers along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, picked some flowers, along the way
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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