The Mango-Tree
He wiled me through the furzy croft;
He wiled me down the sandy lane.
He told his boy's love, soft and oft,
Until I told him mine again.
We married, and we sailed the main;
A soldier, and a soldier's wife.
We marched through many a burning plain;
We sighed for many a gallant life.
But his-God kept it safe from harm.
He toiled, and dared, and earned command;
And those three stripes upon his arm
Were more to me than gold or land.
Sure he would win some great renown:
Our lives were strong, our hearts were high.
One night the fever struck him down.
I sat, and stared, and saw him die.
I had his children-one, two, three.
One week I had them, blithe and sound.
The next-beneath this mango-tree,
By him in barrack burying-ground.
I sit beneath the mango-shade;
I live my five years' life all o'er-
Round yonder stems his children played;
He mounted guard at yonder door.
'Tis I, not they, am gone and dead.
They live; they know; they feel; they see.
Their spirits light the golden shade
Beneath the giant mango-tree.
All things, save I, are full of life:
The minas, pluming velvet breasts;
The monkeys, in their foolish strife;
The swooping hawks, the swinging nests;
The lizards basking on the soil,
The butterflies who sun their wings;
The bees about their household toil,
They live, they love, the blissful things.
Each tender purple mango-shoot,
That folds and droops so bashful down;
It lives; it sucks some hidden root;
It rears at last a broad green crown.
It blossoms; and the children cry-
'Watch when the mango-apples fall.'
It lives: but rootless, fruitless, I-
I breathe and dream;-and that is all.
Thus am I dead: yet cannot die:
But still within my foolish brain
There hangs a pale blue evening sky;
A furzy croft; a sandy lane.
1870.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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Related quotes
Under The Mango Tree
i like the idea
of doing many things under the mango tree
like
watching time go by like it is a stranger
and i
am a stranger too watching time pass by
like i am so interested
with what time
can do to me
making me old
making the mango tree bloom and flower and have fruits
and they are so many
that the mango tree bends
to the ground
and time stays for a while and ripens the fruits
and make all of them
in time
fall one by one to the ground
like some kind
of withered flowers
luscious, sweet, fruits of the mango tree
falling
by the slightest passing of the wind
and then the children
come and with all joy
pick them one by one
putting what they can
under
their shirts and still rushing
to keep
and take some more
under the mango tree
all the people
are so much alike
the rushing, the taking, the joy
of always having more
and it will never stop
as i watch time slowly go by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fatso & His Lady!
That mango tree was no normal
It got immense love so mortal
From dawn to dusk he watered
Hoping it is never left shattered
Plucking the fruits in noon
He sat by it with all bloom.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
What is it that brings that bloom
In this man so fat & hair so white
Was the thought that always rung
When I usually see him sing.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
My lady love sowed this seed
& fed to it her life
I cried cried & I cried
And one day she grew up
Through ground & this is it
He told with a whisper.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so immortal
Telling his tale of love
He had the last mango from it
He bore a smile on face
A tear in each eye
The seed in his palm.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
Inspite of it being watered
Although I gave utmost care
In no time it became dry
And in air remained only their love……..
poem by BhanuPrakash Singh
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Kajura
My love for you is like the big mango tree in my compound,
Upon which sits the monkey to look at you;
But i will follow you to Hew Guinea!
Of fowls, ducks, goats ans sheep to play in this compound;
And it is like the rice and chicken that you love to eat,
But we will sleep well under this mosquito net of love.
Don't worry my love,
For the centre of my compound is this mango tree!
And we should take life as it is around us,
For my love for you is like the big mango tree in my compound.
You and i have to accept this chronology and,
There is a place for us to sit and drink at times;
So come and drink a bottle of whisky with me tonight.
Kajura my love,
I want to tell you more about myself and more about life!
But the myth of love is all that hangs arouns us,
And i am the leader around here to lead you on.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Mango Tree And The Children
the mango tree
blooms on the month
of May
fruits are heavy
soon
on all its branches
is opulence
Comes June
the children come
with their sticks
and slings
and stones
the mango tree is
hit once again
and all the fruits
fall to the
ground
the children
have all the fun
saliva flows from
tongues
dipping in
salt
as early as that
they know what fun is
by hurting those
that fruit so well
by taking the fruits
beyond
what they actually
need
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Where the Sidewalk Ends
where the sidewalk ends
now a nursery school stands
it slowly quietly comes alive at morn
the gentleness of a breeze as
children with their bags on their backs
walk, run into their classrooms
after the first light of morn
where the sidewalk ends
now a nursery school stands
it quietens down at the last light of dusk
the gentleness of a breeze
as children leave and go happy that they
have fulfilled mom's and dad's wishes
and learnt a few rudimentary words and grammar
their laughters and cheers as they leave
echo those in the lane of my memory
- a few young boys and girls swarming round
a mango tree shaking for its last mango
it had missed my friends and dropped right on my left eye
before plopping onto the ground with a 'bruise' on its yellowish skin
i could still hear the cheers and the question 'who will take this? '
little mary always got the fruit of our play
guess what, she also got married to the best boy of the gang
yesteryears' cheers still shore up the camaraderie
in her reunion dos for all of us
come rain or shine we woud all try to attend
but sadly we would never see the faces of all
someone, somewhere had always ended up at the
sidewalk of another lane, road
where the sidewalk ends now a
nursery school stands evoking
the wondrous time we had spent here
where the sidewalk ends
the first lesson of life begins
where smiles, cheeers and tears
come straight from the hearts
how in every reunion we tried hard
to laugh in the same way, but always
resulted with a tinge of regret we would never
be able to do it the way when we were children
it hurt us like the bruised mango that
had fallen hardhazardly on the lane of our memory
where the sidewalk ends
now stands a nursery school
where joy and laughter abound
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Sitting Here
Love,
Is it black or white?
Love,
Is it red or blue?
Sitting here lonely to understand the ways of love;
So tell me if you know the colour of love.
I am sitting here under a mango tree to think about it,
What is the colour of love?
Somebody should tell me now.
Love,
Is it green or yellow?
Love,
Is it brown or violet?
Oh what a lonely place to think about love!
The sun shines in all directions but,
The shade of this mango tree is my home;
Somebody should tell me the colour of love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Boasting About Trees
There you stood among other trees
In a garden of legendary emeralds
Your luxuriant leaves waving to the heavens
You arresting branches kissing the sky
Honey cannot be compared to thee
You are my mango tree
My enraptured eyes are still swimming in bliss
From the first time they saw you
Untouched, unspoiled and unsurpassed
Flora of such sublime character
Honey cannot be compared to thee
You are my mango tree
My heart swims in the deluge of desire
Sweet songs of attraction, passion and fire
It is you that awakens my appetite
My dulcet cynosure
Honey cannot be compared to thee
You are my mango tree
Others may boast of oranges and apples
Grapes and pears and pomegranates too
I will be silent until I talk of you
And from my lips will dropp the words
Honey cannot be compared to thee
You are my mango tree
poem by Howard Simon
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Last Mango In Paris
Last mango in paris
By: jimmy buffett, marshall chapman, will jennings, michael utley
1985
"for all the living legends i've had the pleasure to know. there's
Still so much to be done."
I went down to captain tony's
To get out of the heat
Then i heard a voice call out to me
"son come have a seat"
I had to search my memory
As i looked into those eyes
Our lives change like the weather
But a legend never dies
Chorus:
He said i ate the last mango in paris
Took the last plane out of saigon
Took the first fast boat to china
And jimmy there's still so much to be done
I had a third world girl in buzios
With a pistol in each hand
She always kept me covered
As we moved from land to land
I had a damn good run on wall street
With my high fashion model wife
I woke up dry beneath the african sky
Just me and my swiss army knife
Chorus:
I ate the last mango in paris
Took the last plane out of saigon
Took the first fast boat to china
And jimmy there's still so much to be done
We shot the breeze for hours
As the sun fell from the sky
And like the sun he disappeared
Before my very eyes
It was somewhere past dark-thirty
And i went back to the head
I read upon the dingy wall
The words the old man said:
I ate the last mango in paris
Took the last plane out of saigon
Took the first fast boat to china
And jimmy there's still so much to be done
I ate the last mango in paris
Took the last plane out of saigon
Took the first fast boat to china
And jimmy there's still so much to be done
That's why we wander and follow la vie dansante
- notes:
Background vocals: timothy b. schmit
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woman is like a mango
A girl is a mango infantile,
That tastes in pickles.
A lass is about ripe mango,
That tastes in curries.
A woman is a ripe mango,
That tastes with its flesh.
At forties as juice and at fifties
As jelly, she lingers to my taste.
Even in sixties, she is like mango-essence.
In seventies, as endosperm of its nut
She still taste though differently.
Woman to men is evergreen.
29.05.2001, Berhampur
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A cripple ant near a Mango tree
I have heard about the tasty fruit when it ripens
and the legend says lightning won't peep to your premises
if you grow a mango tree in your yard,
But I am very unhappy as I cannot climb on my neighbour's tree.
* I humbly dedicate this poem to the authoress of the novel 'The House on Mango street' written by Sandra.Cisneros.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Fruits Of Action
I am not here to pluck the mango even
I assured my mother.
Always my mother used to tell me
Never eat the mango from the tree
You planted.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Marilyn
I am dark and lovely,
And i live under a sweet mango tree with my muse;
I am bold and beautiful,
So come and taste some of the fruits of my love;
Like a walk through the markets of Thailand.
I am sweet and attractive,
Living closer to you with the muse of my love;
I am dark and lovely,
So come to me like a walk through the markets of Thailand!
For the sun shines on me under this mango tree.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Mango
The king of all fruits
Mango is my favorite
Believe it or not
You are like a sweet mango
So don't let the worms eat you.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Doctor's Warnings
half of the mango.
that is all you can eat
and you do not like
it you take the whole
mango
and swallow.
a cup of rice.
hardheaded, you
take a bowl.
no coke. you
bought a bottle
and drink it all.
no sugar. no salt.
you are determined
to have some
and some more.
take death then
the doctor says
and you say
with all dignity:
thank you.
i love it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pencil Sketch
sometime in 1985
you sketched an eagle
beside an egg
its newly hatched carbon copy
you wrote there
'for another flight! '
(muling paglipad)
beside it is a computation
40 x 3 = 120
can't really figure out what that means
but one thing i am sure of
you miss those college days
when law was still new to you
when everybody was a complete stranger
now in the land of the snow
a mango seed is buried
but deep in my mind
i sense that difficulty thinking
how can a mango tree, if there shall ever be,
thrive on the harshness of the frost?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mango Tree In My Backyard
the mango tree in my backyard,
stand majestic and strong,
the first morning rays,
falling thro the leaves,
like myraid colorful beans, ,
chirping of bird is like melodious song,
parrat myna bulbul and so,
make upteem sounds,
squirrel jumping up and down,
the water dripping leaves inrain,
flutter of leaves while the breeze blow,
summer sun glows like orange ball,
but the cool breeze of the tree gives a relief,
the mango tree saw us grow,
know our grief and all our sorrow,
the majestic tree gave us support and peace,
a true companion of our life indeed.
.
poem by renu Vig sharma sharma
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Uncle John
Years ago you climbed the mango tree
On an alibi to see both of them
They talked in the sala of your house
And went inside your room
After they kissed
You did not wait for reason
Before they
Can undress
You shot him dead
You spared her
Your wife because you loved her
15 years in prison
You were released to find yourself
In this bigger prison
Without love
All that you can find in her
And her children are barbed wires
Uncle John, tell me
Which do you prefer now?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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50
Years ago you climbed the mango tree
On an alibi to see both of them
They talked in the sala of your house
And went inside your room
After they kissed
You did not wait for reason
Before they
Can undress
You shot him dead
You spared her
Your wife because you loved her
15 years in prison
You were released to find yourself
In this bigger prison
Without love
All that you can find in her
And her children are barbed wires
Uncle John, tell me
Which do you prefer now?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Of Sheer Love
Fabulous,
Fantastic!
Exquisite composition;
My own feeble effort,
Your own feeble effort,
His own feeble effort,
Her own feeble effrot,
And on demand like the pleasures around us! !
But, i will expose my love to you under the mango tree.
To you,
To me,
To him,
To her,
To us! !
And, from the heart;
Of sheer love,
But, under the trees to expose my love to you.
Cattle, battle, wattle, rattle, tattle;
Love the one who loves you and love the one who hates you! !
And like the magic hands of peace across the Queen's land,
But, try to understand my mind in the land of your muse.
Of sheer love,
Forward, backward, ward, reward, afterward;
For, i now understand who you are,
But, under the mango tree i will expose my love to you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Sound Of Children
it is their sound that makes
this world lovable still
under the mango tree
when the wind starts to blow
when the ripe mangoes fall
to the ground and the children
starts to scramble for their
share of the ripe ones.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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