En.Citatepedia^®.ro

A Hunter's Indian Dove

DARK is her cheek, but her blood’s rich blush
Comes through its dusk with a sunset flush,
While joy, like a prairie-bee, slaketh its drouth
At the red honey-cup of her smiling mouth,
And her wild eyes glow, like meteors, there
’Neath the streaming storm of her night-black hair.
And ever I pride in my forest choice,
The more while I list to her bird-like voice,
Warbling old songs in her own wild speech,
But with this new burden still added to each;
“Who’ll pity, who’ll comfort the dark wood-dove
When the white hawk leaves her to die of love?

O then, by the artless tears that rise
’Neath the downcast lids of her gleaming eyes—
By the truthfully tender and touching grace
That boding passion then lends to her face—
I swear, in the very wild spirit of love,
Never to leave her, my Indian dove!

poem by Charles Harpur
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Hunter's Indian Dove

DARK is her cheek, but her blood’s rich blush
Comes through its dusk with a sunset flush,
While joy, like a prairie-bee, slaketh its drouth
At the red honey-cup of her smiling mouth,
And her wild eyes glow, like meteors, there
’Neath the streaming storm of her night-black hair.
And ever I pride in my forest choice,
The more while I list to her bird-like voice,
Warbling old songs in her own wild speech,
But with this new burden still added to each;
“Who’ll pity, who’ll comfort the dark wood-dove
When the white hawk leaves her to die of love?

O then, by the artless tears that rise
’Neath the downcast lids of her gleaming eyes—
By the truthfully tender and touching grace
That boding passion then lends to her face—
I swear, in the very wild spirit of love,
Never to leave her, my Indian dove!

poem by Charles Harpur
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Incantation

A white well
In a black cave;
A bright shell
In a dark wave.

A white rose
Black brambles hood;
Smooth bright snows
In a dark wood.

A flung white glove
In a dark fight;
A white dove
On a wild black night.

A white door
In a dark lane;
A bright core
To bitter black pain.

A white hand
Waved from dark walls;
In a burnt black land
Bright waterfalls.

A bright spark
Where black ashes are;
In the smothering dark
One white star.

poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Tears

Tears! tears! tears!
In the night, in solitude, tears;
On the white shore dripping, dripping, suck'd in by the sand;
Tears--not a star shining--all dark and desolate;
Moist tears from the eyes of a muffled head:
--O who is that ghost?--that form in the dark, with tears?
What shapeless lump is that, bent, crouch'd there on the sand?
Streaming tears--sobbing tears--throes, choked with wild cries;
O storm, embodied, rising, careering, with swift steps along the
beach;
O wild and dismal night storm, with wind! O belching and
desperate! 10
O shade, so sedate and decorous by day, with calm countenance and
regulated pace;
But away, at night, as you fly, none looking--O then the unloosen'd
ocean,
Of tears! tears! tears!

poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Wild As The Wind (feat. Trisha Yearwood)

Johnny grew up
On the dark side of the law
Livin' in the shadow
Of the light he never saw
Rosie came 'round
In the way that true love does
Just when you're lookin' elsewhere
For the thing that never was
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
So they team up
And they traveled on thier way
Lookin' for forever
For every yesterday
She brings him hope
In the way that Angels do
Takin' him to heaven
In ways he never knew
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Every so often
He gets a stray look in his eye
She knows how to hold him
Without ever askin' why
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love

song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Wild As The Wind

Johnny grew up
On the dark side of the law
Livin in the shadow
Of the light he never saw
Rosie came round
In the way that true love does
Just when youre lookin elsewhere
For the thing that never was
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
So they team up
And they traveled on thier way
Lookin for forever
For every yesterday
She brings him hope
In the way that angels do
Takin him to heaven
In ways he never knew
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Every so often
He gets a stray look in his eye
She knows how to hold him
Without ever askin why
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love

song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Tryst Of The Sachem’s Daughter

In the far green depths of the forest glade,
Where the hunter’s footsteps but rarely strayed,
Was a darksome dell, possessed, ’twas said,
By an evil spirit, dark and dread,
Whose weird voice spoke in the whisperings low
Of that haunted wood, and the torrent’s flow.

There an Indian girl sat silent, lone,
From her lips came no plaint or stifled moan,
But the seal of anguish, hopeless and wild,
Was stamped on the brow of the forest child,
And her breast was laden with anxious fears,
And her dark eyes heavy with unshed tears.

Ah! a few months since, when the soft spring gales
With fragrance were filling the forest dales;
When sunshine had chased stern winter’s gloom,
And woods had awoke in their new-born bloom,
No step had been lighter on upland or hill
Than her’s who sat there so weary and still.

Now, the silken ears of the tasseled maize
Had ripened beneath the sun’s fierce blaze,
And the summer’s sunshine, warm and bright,
Had been followed by autumn’s amber light,
While the trees robed in glowing gold and red,
Their fast falling leaves thickly round her shed.

A Sachem’s daughter, beloved and revered,
To the honest hearts of her tribe endeared
By her goodness rare and her lovely face,
Her innocent mirth and her artless grace;
Wooed oft by young Indian braves as their bride,
Sought by stern-browed chiefs for their wigwam’s pride.

Heart-free, unwon, she had turned from each prayer,
And thought but of smoothing her raven hair;
Of embroidering moccasins, dainty, neat,
With quills and gay beads for her tiny feet;
Or skilfully guiding her bark canoe
O’er St. Lawrence’s waves of sparkling blue.

Alas for the hour, when in woodlands wild
The white man met with the Sachem’s child,
And she wondering gazed on his golden hair,
His deep blue eyes, and his forehead fair,
And his rich soft voice fell low on her ear,
And became to her heart, alas! too dear.

Well trained was he in each courtly art
That can please and win a woman’s heart;
And many a girl of lineage high
Had looked on his wooing with fav’ring eye:
Inconstant to all, in hall or in bower,
What chance of escape had this forest flower?

Soon, ah! very soon, he tired of her smile,
Her dusky charms and each sweet, shy wile;
And yet it was long ere, poor trusting dove,
Her faith was shaken in the white man’s love;
And now one last tryst she had asked of him
In this haunted glade in the forest dim.

He had lightly vowed, as such men will do,
To the place and hour that he would be true;
She had waited since the dawn broke chill,
Till the sun was setting behind the hill;
But for him, amid scenes of fashion gay,
All thought of his promise had passed away.

“I will wait for him here,” she softly said,
“Yes, wait till he comes,” and her weary head
Drooped low on her breast, and when the night,
On noiseless pinions had taken its flight,
She looked at the sunrise, with eyes grown dim,
And murmured: “I’ll wait here for death or him.”

It was death that came, and with kindly touch
He stilled the heart that had borne so much;
To the Manitou praying, she passed away
With the sunset clouds of another day,—
No anger quickened her failing breath,
Patient, unmurmuring, even in death.

For days they sought her, the sons of her race,
In deep far-off woods, in each secret place,
Till at length to the haunted glade they crept,
And found her there as in death she slept.
They whispered low of the spirit of ill,
And buried her quickly beside the hill.

That year her false lover back with him bore
A radiant bride to his native shore.
And, with smiling triumph and joy elate,
Ne’er gave one thought to his dark love’s fate;
But an All-seeing Judge, in wrath arrayed,
Shall avenge the wrongs of that Indian maid.

poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Honey Child

Well, the first time that I met you, You were only seventeen,
But I had to put you down, 'Cause I didn't know where you'd been.
You had a long black dress, Your hair in a mess,
You didn't seem to have no class, But the look on
your face was no disgrace, I knew I had to move real fast.
Honey Child, Don't you know you drive me wild! Oh, Honey Child,
Don't you know you drive me wild! Just about to lose my mind.
Well the second time that I met you, You were just turned
twenty-one, An' all your talk about love, Love was gone, long gone.
Oh, Honey Child, Don't you know you drive me wild! Honey child,
Don't you know you drive me wild! Just about to lose my mind.
Yeah, yeah.
Oh, honey child, Don't you know you drive me wild, mm.
Honey child, Don't you know you drive me wild. Honey child,
Don't you know you drive me wild. Oh, yeah, honey child,
Don't you know you drive me wild. Oh, oh, honey child,
Don't you know you drive me wild. Honey child, now,
Don't you know you drive me wild, Yeah, yeah.
Honey, honey, honey, honey child, Don't you know you drive me wild.

song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Heart

The wild heart grew white in the forest;
Dark anxiety
Of death, as when the gold
Died in the grey cloud.
An evening in November.
A crowd of needy women stood at the bare gate
Of the slaughterhouse;
Rotten meat and guts fell
Into every basket;
Horrible food.
The blue dove of the evening
Brought no forgiveness.
The dark cry of trumpets
Tr a v e l l e d i n t h e golden branches
Of the soaked elms,
A frayed flag
Smoking with blood,
To w h i c h a m a n l i s t e n s
In wild despair.
All your days of nobility, buried
In that red evening!
Out of the dark entrance hall
The golden shape
Of the young girl steps
Surrounded by the pale moon,
The prince’s court of autumn,
Black fir trees broken
In the night’s storm,
The steep fortress.
O heart
Glittering above in the snowy cold

poem by Georg Trakl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Lilac

A lilac looked at me
It was sans honey
It lacked fragrance
But it was dazzling in effulgence
A butterfly rushed to it
And turned into a figure white

But I am all for black
Black clouds thunder and rain
Dark forests dank hearts
That can be ploughed
To sow the seeds of love
When love grows into a wild woodland
That bars the light of civilisation
From touching the breast of earth
Black angels will gambol
In the gloam under the canopy of dark leaves
Of love and ecstasy

poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Voice On The Wind

I

She walks with the wind on the windy height
When the rocks are loud and the waves are white,
And all night long she calls through the night,
'O my children, come home!'
Her bleak gown, torn as a tattered cloud,
Tosses around her like a shroud,
While over the deep her voice rings loud,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

II

Who is she who wanders alone,
When the wind drives sheer and the rain is blown?
Who walks all night and makes her moan,
'O my children, come home!'
Whose face is raised to the blinding gale;
Whose hair blows black and whose eyes are pale,
While over the world goes by her wail,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

III

She walks with the wind in the windy wood;
The dark rain drips from her hair and hood,
And her cry sobs by, like a ghost pursued,
'O my children, come home!'
Where the trees loom gaunt and the rocks stretch drear,
The owl and the fox crouch back with fear,
As wild through the wood her voice they hear,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

IV

Who is she who shudders by
When the boughs blow bare and the dead leaves fly?
Who walks all night with her wailing cry,
'O my children, come home!'
Who, strange of look, and wild of tongue,
With wan feet wounded and hands wild-wrung,
Sweeps on and on with her cry, far-flung,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

V

'Tis the Spirit of Autumn, no man sees,
The mother of Death and of Mysteries,
Who cries on the wind all night to these,
'O my children, come home!'
The Spirit of Autumn, pierced with pain,
Calling her children home again,
Death and Dreams, through ruin and rain,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

poem by Madison Julius Cawein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Morning, Noon and Night

When morning shows her first faint flush,
I think of the tender blush
That crept so gently to your cheek
When first my love I dared to speak;
How, in your glance, a dawning ray
Gave promise of love's perfect day.

When, in the ardent breath of noon,
The roses with passion swoon;
There steals upon me from the air
The scent that lurked within your hair;
I touch your hand, I clasp your form —
Again your lips are close and warm.

When comes the night with beauteous skies,
I think of your tear-dimmed eyes,
Their mute entreaty that I stay,
Although your lips sent me away;
And then falls memory's bitter blight,
And dark — so dark becomes the night.

poem by James Weldon Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Dove! Dove! Enchanted Dove

Dove! Dove! Enchanted Dove
That sways around me,
Why are you afraid, white dove?
Hear my voice, dove, my sister.
From the resonant branches
Descend in my dance,
Descend upon my heart, dove of love!

And I dance and I sing and I dance once more,
I dance nude, dazzled and splendid,
Like a serpent in the high grass.
I dance and I rage in the air,
Like a flame from hell.

I dance bewinged, quivering and wild,
In the depth of the living whirlwind,
Whirling in the current that devours me,
The whirlwind in which I descend.
I dance until sated,
With soul drunked, staggering,
With the wine of dance,
And with the wine of my blood.

poem by Charles van Lerberghe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Call Of The Wild

I know her, and every notion I get from her I wear inside me.
I know her, all of the broken leaves of love she leaves behind.
Oh - dont you hide away from the rain.
Oh - can you tell me the name of this game?
I got to get thru to you.
Behind the door, another wall, a lonely cry a call of the wild.
A dancing daze, an empty face, a crystal high a call of the wild.
And there is something that sweeps the dark, a lovers dart,
The call of a broken heart.
Wrapped in the night, behind these eyes, oh hear the cry,
A call of the wild.
I know her and in my mind I dream of her, how she aches without me.
I know her and every heart is a lonely hunter when she walks by.
Oh - can you read the hurt in my eyes?
Oh - dont you leave without saying goodbye.
I got to get thru to you.
Behind the door, another wall...

song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

If Love Is A Wild Bird

if love is a wild bird,
then i must be a cliff or a rock
far away from the trees,
where the wild bird
builds its nest,
i must be an unknown forest
where the eggs are hidden
where the hatching is done

without even my knowing.

if love is a wild bird
beyond the grasp of my twigs

then i must be the night that hovers
on its wings

and stays also wildly on its dreams

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Lurline (Inscribed to Madame Lucy Escott.)

As you glided and glided before us that time,
A mystical, magical maiden,
We fancied we looked on a face from the clime
Where the poets have builded their Aidenn!
And oh, the sweet shadows! And oh, the warm gleams
Which lay on the land of our beautiful dreams,
While we walked by the margins of musical streams
And heard your wild warbling around us!

We forgot what we were when we stood with the trees
Near the banks of those silvery waters;
As ever in fragments they came on the breeze,
The songs of old Rhine and his daughters!
And then you would pass with those radiant eyes
Which flashed like a light in the tropical skies —
And ah! the bright thoughts that would sparkle and rise
While we heard your wild warbling around us.

Will you ever fly back to this city of ours
With your harp and your voice and your beauty?
God knows we rejoice when we meet with such flowers
On the hard road of Life and of Duty!
Oh! come as you did, with that face and that tone,
For we wistfully look to the hours which have flown,
And long for a glimpse of the gladness that shone
When we heard your wild warbling around us.

poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

With You Babe

how can a dark night be dark
and damp?
how can a day be so hot
and wild?
with you babe,
soft white skin
smooth thighs
button nipples
strawberry lips
eyes telling me
'come here baby
get me get me! '
conquer me!

how can a dark night be dark
and damp?
how can a day be so hot
and wild?
with you babe,

another day or month
another year perhaps

how can time be so cruel
choking my dreams
pushing me to the edge
of my existence?

hold me make me live
i am tough i am hard.
love me! '

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Radiant Dark

Should I long that dark were fair? Say, O song.
Lacks my love aught that I should long?
Dark the night with breath all flow'rs
And tender broken voice that fills
With ravishment the list'ning hours.
Whis'prings, wooings,
Liquid ripples, and soft ring-dove cooings,
in low-toned rhythm that love's aching stills.

Dark the night, yet is she bright,
For in her dark she brings the mystic star,
Trembling yet strong as is the voice of love
From some unknown afar.
O radiant dark, O darkly foster'd ray,
Thou hast a joy too deep for shallow day.

poem by George Eliot
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!

Wild In The Country

(words & music by george wise - hugo peretti - luigi creatore)
A rose grows wild in the country
A tree grows tall as the sky
The wind blows wild in the country
And part of the wild, wild country, am i
Wild, wild, like the deer and the dove
Wild and free is this land that I love
A dream grows wild in the country
A love grows tall as the sky
A heart beats wild in the country
And here with a dream in my heart
Part of the wild, wild country, am i

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Wild East

(ian hunter)
Well its tuesday night
How Id like to be inside at this time
Watchin t.v. is killin me
Its such a drag tonight
I feel like jason
Just found a rusty fleece
And the cyclops all laughin at me
You cant tame wild east
Wild east wild east
Wild east wild east
Now some cynic from the methadone clinic
He keeps on bothering me
He writes all my lyrics backwards on diapers
And hangs em from the local trees
Watch out, white boy
Dont argue with a sawn off piece
Im a crazy son, mama
I love the grease of wild east
Wild east wild east
Wild east wild east
Wild east wild east
Wild east wild east
Now jezebel dont feel too well, she talks to jane
bout a one way conversation on a subway train
Hey! they took away her wallet and her valise
Love hate, love hate, love hate, love hate, wild east
Wild east wild east
Wild east wild east
Wild east wild east
Wild east come on crazy wild east
(repeat and fade)

song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

At End Of A Holiday

'LEAVES and brambles from hill and hollow
Come and gather!' the children cried;
'The sun goes down, and the night will follow,
A moonless night on the dark hillside.'
All ways they wandered — the dry twigs snapping,
With laugh and prattle and song between;
Down on the rocks the waves were lapping,
The long swell swaying the seaweed green.
And she stood by in her white sun-bonnet,
All lace and snow on her tressy hair,
With a gold king-beetle dreaming on it
A lotus dream in the lustrous air.
Was it love, or a dove in the tall tree cooing?
Was it love, or a dove that loitered nigh?
The eventide is the hour for wooing —
But I was silent, and she was shy.
Then suddenly rose a far faint humming,
A growing noise in the evening hush,
And the prattle of children homeward coming,
Laden with spoil of the gold-brown bush.
'Leaves and brambles from hill and hollow!
The way was tangled, and tangles tire.
The sun goes down and the night will follow, —
Now down on your knees and make us a fire!'
The leaves were wet (how a storm may hinder!)
The brambles damp with a shower at noon;
She bent to help . . .and my heart of tinder,
Ah, why did it burst to flame so soon?
'Dry leaves, dry leaves from the twilight forest,
Or bark that is sheltered, or hidden ferns:
Dry leaves, dry leaves!' the children chorused,
'The drier the leaf the redder it burns!'
The fire leapt up with a sudden glancing,
The first flame flushing her hands of snow;
And round about went the children dancing,
Their faces lit by the rosy glow.
That fire has gone beyond all returning,
For wild winds scatter and chill rains drench:
All dust the leaves; but a fire is burning
That wind or water shall never quench.
Ah, leaves and brambles from hill and hollow!
And two together, and violet eyes . . .
The sun goes down, and love must follow,
A quenchless fire, and a flame that dies.

poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!