Related quotes: The sweets of evening charm...

The Sweets of Evening

The sweets of evening charm the mind,
Sick of the sultry day;
The body then no more confin'd,
But exercise with freedom join'd,
When Phoebus sheathes his ray.

While all-serene the summer moon
Sends glances thro' the trees,
And Philomel begins her tune,.
And Asteria too shall help her soon
With voice of skillful ease.

A nosegay, every thing that grows,
And music, every sound
To lull the sun to his repose;
The skies are colour'd like the rose
With lively streaks around.

Of all the changes rung by time
None half so sweet appear,
As those when thoughts themselves sublime,
And with superior natures chime
In fancy's highest sphere.

poem by Christopher Smart
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A Parody

When first, Philander, first I came
Where Avon rolls his winding stream,
The nymphs, how brisk, the swains, how gay,
To see Asteria, queen of May!
The parsons round her praises sung!
The steeples with her praises rung!-
I thought no sight that e'er was seen
Could match the sight of Barel's Green!

But now, since old Eugenio died-
The chief of poets, and the pride-
Now, meaner bards in vain aspire
To raise their voice, to tune their lyre!
Their lovely season now is o'er;
Thy notes, Florelio, please no more!
Nor more Asteria's smiles are seen-
Adieu!-the sweets of Barel's Green!

poem by William Shenstone
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Sweet Summer's Dance

A dance upon the woodland green,
moon spinning with delight.
Wind aglow with moonbeam's ray
spreads far into eboned night.

Twirling ~ is sweet summer's dance
beneath the yearning moon.
Smiling down upon the face
of memory's rendered tune.

Stepping quickly ~ two- step now,
a waltzing hillside breeze
across the greening meadow ~
dancing softly through the trees.

Smiling moon ~ now breathes its sigh
upon sweet summer's dance.
Alive and luring ~ summer sweet ~
attracting moon's long glance.

'Round and 'round with rhythmic beat,
afire ~ with earthly charm,
summer blossoms with each step
beneath the moonbeams warm.

~~**~~**~~

Alas ~
Dark sky,
On horizon it falls.
Moon cries, as night ends much too soon.
Summer's dance now sends its sweet kiss.
~ Hypnotizing the man in the moon. ~

poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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Sonnet IV. How Many Bards Gild The Lapses Of Time!

How many bards gild the lapses of time!
A few of them have ever been the food
Of my delighted fancy,—I could brood
Over their beauties, earthly, or sublime:
And often, when I sit me down to rhyme,
These will in throngs before my mind intrude:
But no confusion, no disturbance rude
Do they occasion; 'tis a pleasing chime.
So the unnumbered sounds that evening store;
The songs of birds—the whispering of the leaves—
The voice of waters—the great bell that heaves
With solemn sound,—and thousand others more,
That distance of recognizance bereaves,
Makes pleasing music, and not wild uproar.

poem by John Keats
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How Many Bards Gild The Lapses Of Time!

poem by John Keats
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Moon-Light

COME, gentle muse! now all is calm,
The dew descends, the air is balm;
Unruffled is the glassy deep,
While moon-beams o'er its bosom sleep;
The gale of summer mildly blows,
The wave in soothing murmur flows;
Unclouded Vesper shines on high,
And ev'ry flow'r has clos'd its tearful eye.

Oh! at this hour, this placid hour,
Soft music, wake thy magic pow'r!
Be mine to hear thy dulcet measure,
Thy warbling strains, that whisper, pleasure;
Thy heavenly airs, of cadence dying,
And harp to every zephyr sighing;
When roving by the shadowy beam,
That gilds the fairy-bow'r and woodland-stream!

But all is still! no mellow sound
Floats on the breeze of night around ;
Yet fancy, with some airy spell,
Can wake 'sweet Echo' from her cell;
Can charm her pensive votary's ear,
With plaintive numbers melting near;
And bid celestial spirits rise,
To pour their wild, enchanted melodies.

I love the rosy dawn of day,
When Zephyr wakes the laughing May;
I love the summer-evening's close,
That lulls the mind in calm repose;
But sweeter far the hour serene,
When softer colours paint the scene;
When Vesper sheds a dewy ray,
And o'er the sleeping wave the moon-beams play.

poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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The painted rose

The painted rose
~
A rose in fullest bloom
Is it of the reddest colour
The warmest hue upon its petals
As beautiful as the poet wrote
Embedded beneath a clear sky
An ocean of blue climbing above
Where birds swim upon high
Flight of fancy, flight of freedom
What a joy it must be
Painted from the pallet
Of natures ink and colour
A roses thorn stands striking
In the sharpness of the brush
Captured to the light
A rose in full bloom
Is of the reddest of colour
And the most beautiful

poem by Matthew Holloway
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Upon a Visit to a Lady of Quality

On fair Asteria's blissful plains,
Where ever-blooming fancy reigns,
How pleased we pass the winter's day,
And charm the dull-eyed Spleen away!

No linnet, from the leafless bough,
Pours forth her note melodious now,
But all admire Asteria's tongue,
Nor wish the linnet's vernal song.

No flowers emit their transient rays;
Yet sure Asteria's wit displays
More various tints, more glowing lines,
And with perennial beauty shines.

Though rifled groves and fetter'd streams
But ill befriend a poet's dreams;
Asteria's presence wakes the lyre,
And well supplies poetic fire.

The fields have lost their lovely dye;
No cheerful azure decks the sky:
Yet still we bless the lowering day;
Asteria smiles-and all is gay.

Hence let the Muse no more presume,
To blame the winter's dreary gloom;
Accuse his loitering hours no more,
But, ah! their envious haste deplore.

For soon, from Wit and Friendship's reign,
The social hearth, the sprightly vein,
I go-to meet the coming year,
On savage plains, and deserts drear!

I go-to feed on pleasures flown,
Nor find the spring my loss atone;
But, 'mid the flowery sweets of May,
With pride recall this winter's day.

poem by William Shenstone
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Summer Skies

Summer skies
When clouds have dried their eyes
And all fierce storms have died
Listen, -fickle breeze just sighed.
And sunshine laughs across your hair
As England bathes in evening air
Upon your lips I taste fine wine
Lending sips from heavens' vine.
And as church bells peal their echo soft
Sunday will reveal aloft
Like meadow dance of happy flora
As summer skies reflect aurora.
Winters' frozen feeling flying free
Red sky smiles revealing tranquility.
Bees humming natures' tune
Serenade the hissing noon
The woman that I'm missing,
Soon, will hold me under crescent moon.
Summer skies
Rivers flow
-But passion will fly
Promises glow,
Then like fashion will die.
And so we walk the twilight beach
No dream is ever out of reach
No sunset ever waved goodbye
Without a twinkle in its eye.
As love returns with sweet surprise
Your touch still burns
Like summer skies.

poem by Kevin East
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A Love Song

I gave her a rose in early June,
Fed with the sun and the dew,
Each petal I said is a note in the tune,
The rose is the whole tune through and through,
The tune is the whole red-hearted rose,
Flush and form, honey and hue,
Lull with the cadence and throb to the close,
I love you, I love you, I love you.

She gave me a rose in early June,
Fed with the sun and the dew,
Each petal she said is a mount in the moon,
The rose is the whole moon through and through,
The moon is the whole pale-hearted rose,
Round and radiance, burnish and blue,
Break in the flood-tide that murmurs and flows,
I love you, I love you, I love you.

This is our love in early June,
Fed with the sun and the dew,
Moonlight and roses hid in a tune,
The roses are music through and through,
The moonlight falls in the breath of the rose,
Light and cadence, honey and hue,
Mingle, and murmur, and flow to the close,
I love you, I love you, I love you.

poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
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A Whistling Tune

(words & music by edwards - david)
Did you ever notice when the sun goes down
Out of nowhere comes a strange and pretty sound
Its a whistling tune for walking in the night
If you listen you can hear it in the breeze
Specially when the breeze is drifting through the trees
Its a whistling tune for walking in the night
And the murmuring waters sing the song
The echoing mountains hum along
The whispering valleys fill the air
With a whistling tune our hearts can share
Its so wonderful to walk beneath the moon
Listening to old mother natures favorite tune
Its a whistling tune for walking in the night

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Voice From The Mountain

Voice from the mountain
And a voice from the sea
Voice in my neighbourhood
And a voice calling me.
Tell me my friend my friend
Tell me with love
Where can it end it end
Voice from above.
The sound on the ocean wave
And the sound in the tree
Sound in a country lane
Say you can be free.
Tell me you crowd you crowd
Tell me again
Tell me out loud out loud
This sound is rain.
Tune from the hillside
And tune full of light
A flute in the morning
And a chime in the night.
I know the game again
I know the score
I know my name my name
But this tune is more.
Voice from the mountain
And voice from the sea
Voice from in my neighbourhood
And a voice calling me.
Tell me my friend my friend
Tell me with love
Where can it end it end
Voice from above.

song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Until He Appears

Just one person required to think me amazing,
just one voice desired to whisper I make him
crazy, only one pair of arms for a feeling of
sweet romance, as I listen entranced to the
voice in my mind and lean back in the arms
conjured by my thoughts

As I listen to my fantasy using the sounds
supplied by reality to create the atmosphere
in which I am cherished and I can love him
also, a sphere in which I can hear his every
thought and he can hear mine, in which I can
see his intents and he can see mine

A sphere in which our spirits intertwine, a magic
atmosphere in which we can dance to the original
tune of the universe, a sphere in which he is mine
and I can be his and I can feel his hand holding
mine, his heart blossoming to encompass mine,
his mind entering my dreams

What a wonderful thought, what a bewitching way
to while the time away until he appears

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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One Light: Three Primary Colors

Red is the colour of blood that flows in the body of all creatures given birth
Green is the colour of grass that like a carpet covers a lot of the soil of earth
Blue is the colour of sky that surrounds this world and is of an infinite girth
All three colours come from a Single Source having an Immeasurable worth.

Red is also the colour of danger and a symbol which indicates all to beware
Green is also the colour of the leaves that most of the plants and trees wear
Blue is also the colour of water that covers most of this world which is fair
Three colours are the original blend of all those others found in nature there.

Red is also the colour of anger, passion or pain that is expressed, felt and seen
Green is also the colour of something natural an indication of where it has been
Blue is also the colour of Infinity and the light glowing in a mind which is clean
And all three colours are shades of One Light the essence of all universal sheen.

Of all the three colours I like blue the most as it seems to be uniquely sublime
It speaks to me of loftier and deeper things that were experienced in my prime
It also represents the colour of the biggest phenomena known to man in time
Being a symbol of That in which all exists and from which all began to chime.
------------------------
Note:
There are many other colors but as far as those which form the basis of technology there are only three i.e; as in a R.G.B. monitor and screen projector etc.

poem by George Krokos
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What Is Music

What is music?
What is music?
Is music the languages that shoot out of my mouth and speak in silence?
Is music the moving of my lip according to my mind command?
What is music?
Music is the one two word that my mind put together in my mouth
Music is the airs that escape a snap of my violence teeth
Music is the wisdom sound my mind and mouth produce
Music is the combine sound that entertain my ear drum
What is music?
Music is a simple sound I verbalize to state my joyful soul
Music is the jingle that loosen my soul in time of desire
Music is the sounds that launch me to a free world
Music is the spirit that struggle in me
What is music?
Music is the sound I scream from my mouth to a free humanity
Music is a one two word I yell
Music is the lyric I cry to express my mental mind,
My beating heart
My jumping feet
My shouting soul
My sweating body
What is music?
Music is the rhythm of my voice, what is music? ?

poem by Robert Otim
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Sonnet: Life’s Seasonal Paradox

Queen of the seasons, Spring- Thou could end soon!
When greenness, freshness, melody will cease;
Giving way to the hot summer’s Sun’s noon,
That dries the sheaves of grain rather with ease.

Sultry summer can’t go on forever!
God sends His spell of rain to break thy heat;
And autumn comes in, summer to sever,
As wind blows down fiercely, leaves/nuts to eat.

The sun no more shines brightly as it did,
For winter lays its icy hands on trees;
Snow-capping the mountains like a white-lid;
While stark-naked, leafless trees almost freeze.

But not for long as spring will soon come on!
With joyance, landscape to then green adorn.

poem by John Celes
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My Freedom

A freedom of soul moving,
fly to the air, sound mind,
ease thoughts.

A freedom of body to move
and go to the way direction.

A freedom to think, views,
enhance being to smile
inside heart with goodness
sight of thoughts.

A freedom to laugh that
gives glittering in the eyes
sprinkle like star in the night
open to view happiness in mind.

A freedom to be alone in
silence to talk inside self
asking the divine guidance
of the spirit in heart.

A freedom to look up,
whisper words in heaven,
to look down, to see what is
important.

A freedom to be with myself
enjoying my coffee to drink,
my pen to write in notebook
a words for all who want to
read my composition.

A freedom to honour God in his glory
'Till eternity.

poem by Jocelyn Dunbar
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Severance

It was in
The late afternoon
On this sultry day in late summer, that
I heard
The sirens
Screaming,
At that time
I heard
A voice
Call from afar.
Not one sound was present, except
For the singing of crickets
And the sighing of maple trees;
Late summer, it was the time
Of the rising of the dead,
The falling of the leaves,
Stark, green, and envious,
Though shamelessly transforming into a
Putrid, mottled brown mass
Falling haphazardly into a heap onto the
Yellowing grass below.
Hiding beneath were the sparrows,
Playing their flutist’s music,
As wild violets wafting in the gentle breeze
Sang their tune in accordance.
The screams of the sirens were shrill and high pitched.
Closer and closer
They became, though they did not muffle the voices
I could still hear from afar-
Quiescence was shattered, as
Flutist’s music intensified,
Church bells sounded at vespers-Almost cacophonously,
Nearly off-key, they were, in their sound.
Crickets carried their tune,
Leaves –sea green and as damp as new moss
Metamorphosis into gold and red,
Not regal, though, daunting
As insects skated across the nearby creek,
Elusive as they could be, they lived without a care.
In that nearby churchyard, I stood, where
I could hear my calling,
A voice invoked my name, - my mission…
Sirens, shrill, were still shrieking,
Closer they came, as
Summer turned to autumn,
I was surrounded by the
Dancing of high reeds intertwining and
Towering fir trees.
Within this late summer’s squall
I was to be swept away.
I could still hear voices calling from afar,
No one was present- although
Always obedient, I was to their lurid commands.
Stark, green and never envious
Was the foliage upon the trees
Where I would hide in solitude behind a thicket,
Listening to the sparrows’ flutist’s music of the
First born.
Thunder would clap and obliterate the sound
Of the approaching sirens, no matter how close,
I could always hear that voice calling from afar,
Church bells were ringing.
Somewhere in that churchyard
I would hide- at vespers praying for severance
From fear, at that hour,
I heard my calling,
At that moment they had come to
Carry me home…

Claudia Krizay

poem by Claudia Krizay
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Far-Far-Away

(For Music)

What sight so lured him thro' the fields he knew
As where earth's green stole into heaven's own hue,
Far-far-away?

What sound was dearest in his native dells?
The mellow lin-lan-lone of evening bells
Far-far-away.

What vague world-whisper, mystic pain or joy,
Thro' those three words would haunt him when a boy,
Far-far-away?

A whisper from his dawn of life? a breath
From some fair dawn beyond the doors of death
Far-far-away?

Far, far, how far? from o'er the gates of birth,
The faint horizons, all the bounds of earth,
Far-far-away?

What charm in words, a charm no words could give?
O dying words, can Music make you live
Far-far-away?

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Awaited Call

Before ever we met
much did I perceive
for you revealed yourself
in thoughts and words.

When we karma cosmic met
when we were contemplative together.
Sometimes then on insightful occasion.
In quiet crystalline moments.

How could I not receptive see
heart attesting, true interior self,
for we talked, soft salient hours,
passed with decisive conversation.

Clouds parted at fleeting moments
light illuminating sweet sincere self.
Shone through momentarily. Perceptive
intuitive conceptualization. Was born.

Almost seen glimpsed felt, fleeting idolized soul,
words cannot articulate, cross, dimensional vision.
Clouds rarely part in cosmic veneration, with
revelation, comprehensive mind can envisage.

I no longer hear
soft sound of breathing
nor echo of her voice.
I am an empty vessel.
It shall take her sweet voice.
An eternity to fill to overflowing.

Until attainment I hunger
for sound of sensual words,
sweeter than siren haunting harp,
vibrant stirring windblown leaves,
or joyous song of sparkling brook.

‘Tis music of celestial choir.
I have longed constantly
for mute lost voice
to call ardent me
but you cry to me.
Only with sublime silent,
emptiness; of heartfelt soul.

I can not anymore remember
individual notes inscribing voice.
For in composed refined presence.
I am lost bewitched spellcast bound.
I embrace your serene spirit directly;
as it draws forth to join within my mind.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Sweet Evening Breeze

I was loud and a little sad
She was visiting from atlanta, georgia
She had come to spend the summer with her dad
I thought she was very pretty
We would kiss and hold hands
Every night by the football field
Her body was tan
From the afternoons by the public swimming pool
Chorus:
Sweet evening breeze
Blows around my thoughts and memories
As I lie here today
And drink my tea
I can still see
Sweet evening breeze
I saw her in a coffee shop
In a big hotel down in austin, texas
She had cut her long hair off
And replaced it with
Blue eyes of sadness
Still acted like we were kids
And she told me that she had to marry
And she asked me if I did
Still remember
Chorus:
Sweet evening breeze
Blows around my thoughts and memories
As I lie here today
And drink my tea
I can still see
Sweet evening breeze
How redundant the future can be
These days of old are very, very
Ridiculous for me to see
When I think about the real gone stories
And how time holds the winning hand
I can tell by the lines on our faces
And the young cant understand
That they look at me
When they look at themselves
Chorus:
Oh, sweet evening breeze
Blows around my thoughts and memories
As I lie here today
And drink my tea
I can still see
Sweet evening breeze

song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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