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Sonnet XII: The Lovers' Walk

Sweet twining hedgeflowers wind-stirred in no wise
On this June day; and hand that clings in hand:—
Still glades; and meeting faces scarcely fann'd:—
An osier-odoured stream that draws the skies
Deep to its heart; and mirrored eyes in eyes:—
Fresh hourly wonder o'er the Summer land
Of light and cloud; and two souls softly spann'd
With one o'erarching heaven of smiles and sighs:—
Even such their path, whose bodies lean unto
Each other's visible sweetness amorously,—
Whose passionate hearts lean by Love's high decree
Together on his heart for ever true,
As the cloud-foaming firmamental blue
Rests on the blue line of a foamless sea.

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Related quotes

The Story

They met each other in the glade –
She lifted up her eyes;
Alack the day! Alack the maid!
She blushed in swift surprise.
Alas! Alas! the woe that comes from lifting up the eyes.

The pail was full, the path was steep –
He reached to her his hand;
She felt her warm young pulses leap,
But did not understand.
Alas! Alas! the woe that comes from clasping hand with hand.

She sat beside him in the wood –
He wooed with words and sighs;
Ah! love in spring seems sweet and good,
And maidens are not wise.
Alas! Alas! the woe that comes from listing lovers’ sighs.

The summer sun shone fairly down,
The wind blew from the south;
As his blue eyes gazed in eyes of brown,
His kiss fell on her mouth.
Alas! Alas! the woe that comes from kisses on the mouth.

And now the autumn time is near,
The lover roves away,
With breaking heart and falling tear,
She sits the livelong day.
Alas! Alas! for breaking hearts when lovers rove away.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Mid Summer Beauty

Thou blossomed into a true beauty that summer.
Thy hair grew more golden as the summer progressed.
Thy eyes, took on the deep blue of the summer sky,
and thy complextion, as soft as a summer cloud.
Oh! How I hope for thee,
that thy bright summer sky-blue eyes like glowing sapphires,
be not be dim,
like a dark cloud passed over the sun.
For truly, thou are a mid summer beauty.

poem by Laura Nnamdi
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Innocence

Talk to me of the innocent,
With hope in their eyes,
And love in their hearts,
Tell me their story,
Of fields of green and skies of blue,
And their love of me and you,

Lost in a foreign land,
We wind our way down winding roads,
Steady in faith, strong in heart, sure of foot,
Where were you when the earth shook?
What toil and trouble it took!

For us to look back,
Too late now, we cry,
So onward we go to new lands,
Where no one has the upper hand,
Where life can still be grand,
Where I can just be a man!

Purple skies and moonless nights,
Stars lace the heavens with their lights,
In each mans eyes, I see,
His hearts light shining, bright and free!

27 June 2012

poem by David Andre' Klopper
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Beginnings

I found you
Right before
My very eyes
And i wasn't looking;
Like a bolt out of
The blue
Lagoon reflecting
Through still waters
That run deep
Like baby blue skies selecting
Are your magnetic eyes
That have frozen
Me into a misty blue velvet trance
A spellbound glance
Enticed by you
Out of the blue
Borne to be ever true
Me and you and our misty blue romance

Straight from: The***Attic Of My Heart
June 7,2009

poem by Theodora Onken
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Sweet Summer Lovin

Though the sun may be dawning
Youre the one that lights the morning
As I awake to the heaven
Of your sweet summer lovin
By a stream in the country
Running barefoot and feeling free
While the love in our hearts blend
Into sweet summer lovin
Sweet summer lovin in the dandelions
Sweet summer lovin keeps me high as candy wine
When that big red balloon sets
Like a painting across the west
As the sky turns a crimson blue
As the world turns for me and you
By the light of the moon glowing
While the warm summer wind blows
cross the sill of your window
Well be letting our love flow
Sweet summer lovin in the dandelions
Sweet summer lovin keeps me high as candy wine
Sweet summer lovin in the dandelions
Sweet summer lovin keeps me high as candy wine
Sweet summer lovin
Sweet summer lovin
Mmm...
Sweet summer lovin
Mmm...
Sweet summer lovin
I love your sweet summer lovin
Sweet summer lovin
Sweet summer lovin
Mmm...
Sweet summer lovin
Mmm...
Sweet summer lovin

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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360

hair blown by the wind the two of us in the morning meadows
laughing and light as the air that carries us to the sea
you hold my hand you lead me you pull the kite with you
colors of blue and white spreading in the skies
you tie the kite on a tree and we lay ourselves on the grass
softness is you and my heart beats the notes of our love song
we sit side by side we feel we own this wide world
we hear the birds sing we listen to the flow of the river
we see how free are the fish riding on the currents

we look at each other's eyes, then we by instinct close
what was once open, we go inside us, gently our lips touch

there is so much color when our eyes closed
it tastes so sweet that our souls are like tongues licking
the sweetest honey on our skins on our whole bodies

we write happiness not in the usual words that they use
the ink is invisible the pen moves not with the hand but

with the heart with the soul

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How Do We Write Happiness?

we look at each other's eyes, then we by instinct close
what was once open, we go inside us, gently our lips touch

there is so much color when our eyes closed
it tastes so sweet that our souls are like tongues licking
the sweetest honey on our skins on our whole bodies

we write happiness not in the usual words that they use
the ink is invisible the pen moves not with the hand but

with the heart with the soul

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Spring Morning

Where am I going? I don't quite know.
Down to the stream where the king-cups grow-
Up on the hill where the pine-trees blow-
Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.

Where am I going? The clouds sail by,
Little ones, baby ones, over the sky.
Where am I going? The shadows pass,
Little ones, baby ones, over the grass.

If you were a cloud, and sailed up there,
You'd sail on water as blue as air,
And you'd see me here in the fields and say:
'Doesn't the sky look green today?'

Where am I going? The high rooks call:
'It's awful fun to be born at all.'
Where am I going? The ring-doves coo:
'We do have beautiful things to do.'

If you were a bird, and lived on high,
You'd lean on the wind when the wind came by,
You'd say to the wind when it took you away:
'That's where I wanted to go today!'

Where am I going? I don't quite know.
What does it matter where people go?
Down to the wood where the blue-bells grow-
Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.

poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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First Sunday After Trinity

Where is the land with milk and honey flowing,
The promise of our God, our fancy's theme?
Here over shattered walls dank weeds are growing,
And blood and fire have run in mingled stream;
Like oaks and cedars all around
The giant corses strew the ground,
And haughty Jericho's cloud-piercing wall
Lies where it sank at Joshua's trumpet call.

These are not scenes for pastoral dance at even,
For moonlight rovings in the fragrant glades,
Soft slumbers in the open eye of Heaven,
And all the listless joy of summer shades.
We in the midst of ruins live,
Which every hour dread warning give,
Nor may our household vine or fig-tree hide
The broken arches of old Canaan's pride.

Where is the sweet repose of hearts repenting,
The deep calm sky, the sunshine of the soul,
Now Heaven and earth are to our bliss consenting,
And all the Godhead joins to make us whole.
The triple crown of mercy now
Is ready for the suppliant's brow,
By the Almighty Three for ever planned,
And from behind the cloud held out by Jesus' hand.

"Now, Christians, hold your own--the land before ye
Is open--win your way, and take your rest."
So sounds our war-note; but our path of glory
By many a cloud is darkened and unblest:
And daily as we downward glide,
Life's ebbing stream on either side
Shows at each turn some mouldering hope or joy,
The Man seems following still the funeral of the Boy.

Open our eyes, Thou Sun of life and gladness,
That we may see that glorious world of Thine!
It shines for us in vain, while drooping sadness
Enfolds us here like mist: come Power benign,
Touch our chilled hearts with vernal smile,
Our wintry course do Thou beguile,
Nor by the wayside ruins let us mourn,
Who have th' eternal towers for our appointed bourne.

poem by John Keble
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New

What path she walks
Near or far?
How sweet she talks to yonder star.
Yet her wishes cannot be heard.
Disappearing like a solitary bird
Into a sky
Of ethereal blue.
As patiently, I wait
For her love
Brand new.

Her scent as fresh as pine.
She blooms as springtime flower.
Her kiss still on the vine.
That I will drink
At twilight hour.
Our bodies ache in tune.
Her eyes of blue lagoon.
Kiss me in the night.
Her sighs float out of sight.
To rest in morning dew.
That zest
Our love
Brand new.

The thrill
Is beyond my quill.
To express
The vanquishing of lonliness.
That soft vibration of her caress.
She woos in moonlight hue.
She'll sparkle in her party dress.
Oh, lose me in love brand new.
Cruise me on ocean blue.
Her hand at last to hold.
We'll sail a sunset gold.
I see her in vermillion skies.
She touched me in dreams
Of long goodbyes.
I heard her whisper soft and true.
'With wings of silver, I fly to you'
With rings of gold
For our love.
Brand new.

poem by Kevin East
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Brand New

What path she walks?
Near or far?
How sweet she talks to yonder star.
Yet her wishes cannot be heard
Disappearing like a solitary bird
Into a sky of ethereal blue.
As I patiently wait
For my love
Brand new.
Her scent as fresh as pine
She blooms as spring time flower.
Her kiss still on the vine
I will drink at twilight hour.
Our bodies ache in tune.
Her eyes of blue lagoon
Kiss me in the night.
Her sighs float out of sight
To rest in morning dew.
That zest,
Our love
Brand new.
The thrill is beyond my quill
To express.
The vanquishing of lonliness.
That soft vibration of her caress.
She woos in moonlight hue.
She'll sparkle in her party dress.
Oh, lose me in love
Brand new.
Cruise me on ocean blue.
Her hand at last to hold
We'll sail a sunset gold.
I see her in vermillion skies
She touched me in dreams
of long goodbyes.
I heard her whisper, soft and true
'With wings of silver I fly to you'
With rings of gold
For our love
Brand new.

poem by Kevin East
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Gabrielle Smiles

How my heart doth wander
Oh how my heart doth weep
In loosing sense of wonder
I’m not getting any sleep.

Tie me to the meadow
Hang me from a cloud
Whilst I’m gathering my senses
I think softly yet aloud.

Inside a world is waiting
Awaiting you to care
Step outside your aching
Still know that you where there.

Take in the skies with honest eyes
True a Joy will be yours
Deny your eyes – Confuse with lies
Your vision and conceal the door

Open wide
Dance wild.

Gabrielle smiles
A wistful smile.
Her wings are torn
Yet await her miles

Gathered petals in her hair
She stands ever daring you
Through eyes of honest passion.
To ride a wave of blue
Just to crash upon her shore.

poem by David Lacey
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Reunited

Let us begin, dear love, where we left off;
Tie up the broken threads of that old dream;
And go on happy as before; and seem
Lovers again, though all the world may scoff.

Let us forget the graves, which lie between
Our parting and our meeting, and the tears
That rusted out the goldwork of the years;
The frosts that fell upon our gardens green.

Let us forget the cold malicious Fate
Who made our loving hearts her idle toys,
And once more revel in the old sweet joys
Of happy love. Nay, it is not too late!

Forget the deep-ploughed furrows in my brow;
Forget the silver gleaming in my hair;
Look only in my eyes! Oh! darling, there
The old love shone no warmer then than now.

Down in the tender depths of thy dear eyes,
I find the lost sweet memory of my youth,
Bright with the holy radiance of thy truth,
And hallowed with the blue of summer skies.

Tie up the broken threads, and let us go,
Like reunited lovers, hand in hand,
Back, and yet onward, to the sunny land
Of our To Be, which was our Long Ago.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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On Huntingdon's "Miranda"

The storm hath blown thee a lover, sweet,
And laid him kneeling at thy feet.
But, -- guerdon rich for favor rare!
The wind hath all thy holy hair
To kiss and to sing through and to flare
Like torch-flames in the passionate air,
About thee, O Miranda.

Eyes in a blaze, eyes in a daze,
Bold with love, cold with amaze,
Chaste-thrilling eyes, fast-filling eyes
With daintiest tears of love's surprise,
Ye draw my soul unto your blue
As warm skies draw the exhaling dew,
Divine eyes of Miranda.

And if I were yon stolid stone,
Thy tender arm doth lean upon,
Thy touch would turn me to a heart,
And I would palpitate and start,
-- Content, when thou wert gone, to be
A dumb rock by the lonesome sea
Forever, O Miranda.

poem by Sidney Lanier
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Greenfields

(frank dycus/shawn camp)
Greenfields backed by blue skies
bout as blue as your two true blue eyes
And I wonder do you feel the way I feel
When you see greenfields
Sometimes, oh, I wish you were still mine
And Id go back in time and Ill always find
You in greenfields and youre layin by my side
And love was real and I could taste it
On these lips of mine in
Greenfields backed by blue skies
bout as blue as your two true blue eyes
And I wonder do you feel the way I feel
When you see greenfields
When I see cotton candy clouds up in heaven
I close my eyes and then we drift away
And Im loving you and holding on forever
There in your arms where I used to lay in
Greenfields backed by blue skies
bout as blue as your two true blue eyes
And I wonder do you feel the way I feel
In greenfields

song performed by by Gary Allan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet LIV: Love's Fatality

Sweet Love,—but oh! most dread Desire of Love
Life-thwarted. Linked in gyves I saw them stand,
Love shackled with Vain-longing, hand to hand:
And one was eyed as the blue vault above:
But hope tempestuous like a fire-cloud hove
I' the other's gaze, even as in his whose wand
Vainly all night with spell-wrought power has spann'd
The unyielding caves of some deep treasure-trove.
Also his lips, two writhen flakes of flame,
Made moan: “Alas O Love, thus leashed with me!
Wing-footed thou, wing-shouldered, once born free:
And I, thy cowering self, in chains grown tame,—
Bound to thy body and soul, named with thy name,—
Life's iron heart, even Love's Fatality.”

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Sea Holly

Begotten by the meeting of rock with rock,
The mating of rock and rock, rocks gnashing together;
Created so, and yet forgetful, walks
The seaward path, puts up her left hand, shades
Blue eyes, the eyes of rock, to see better
In slanting light the ancient sheep (which kneels
Biting the grass) the while her other hand,
Hooking the wicker handle, turns the basket
Of eggs. The sea is high to-day. The eggs
Are cheaper. The sea is blown from the southwest,
Confused, taking up sand and mud in waves,
The waves break, sluggish, in brown foam, the wind
Disperses (on the sheep and hawthorn) spray,—
And on her cheeks, the cheeks engendered of rock,
And eyes, the colour of rock. The left hand
Falls from the eyes, and undecided slides
Over the left breast on which muslin lightly
Rests, touching the nipple, and then down
The hollow side, virgin as rock, and bitterly
Caresses the blue hip.

It was for this,
This obtuse taking of the seaward path,
This stupid hearing of larks, this hooking
Of wicker, this absent observation of sheep
Kneeling in harsh sea-grass, the cool hand shading
The spray-stung eyes—it was for this the rock
Smote itself. The sea is higher to-day,
And eggs are cheaper. The eyes of rock take in
The seaward path that winds toward the sea,
The thistle-prodder, old woman under a bonnet,
Forking the thistles, her back against the sea,
Pausing, with hard hands on the handle, peering
With rock eyes from her bonnet.

It was for this,
This rock-lipped facing of brown waves, half sand
And half water, this tentative hand that slides
Over the breast of rock, and into the hollow
Soft side of muslin rock, and then fiercely
Almost as rock against the hip of rock—
It was for this in midnight the rocks met,
And dithered together, cracking and smoking.

It was for this
Barren beauty, barrenness of rock that aches
On the seaward path, seeing the fruitful sea,
Hearing the lark of rock that sings, smelling
The rock-flower of hawthorn, sweetness of rock—
It was for this, stone pain in the stony heart,
The rock loved and laboured; and all is lost.

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Life of a Cloud

Warming thermals whisper as they rise,
To tell us they are soon to bring to view
In cooler air aloft before your eyes:
A gentle wisp to counterpoint the blue.

Powder puffs emerge to grant her grace
That further bloom as would for stately tree, and
Yield a sight that calls for our embrace:
Another cloud anew above the lea.

Cruising forth, she yearns for ageless life.
O how her hopes will soon be dashed in vain,
For up there in the cold she courts her strife,
To fade away as drops of closing rain.

Scant and lacy speak her living span,
And fair among us could be brought to mourn,
But she was there to populate her clan:
From fallen tears, new daughters will be born.

A cloudy sky

sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Dream tryst

The breaths of kissing night and day
Were mingled in the eastern Heaven,
Throbbing with unheard melody,
Shook Lyra all its star-cloud seven.
When dusk shrank cold, and light trod shy,
And dawn's grey eyes were troubled grey;
And souls went palely up to the sky,
And mine to Lucidè,
There was no change in her sweet eyes
Since last I saw those sweet eyes shine;
There was no change in her deep heart
Since last that deep heart knocked at mine.
Her eyes were clear, her eyes were Hope's,
Wherein did ever come and go;
The sparkle of the fountain drops
From her sweet soul below.
The chambers in the house of dream
Are fed with so divine an air,
That Time's hoar wings grow young therein,
And they who walk there are most fair.
I joyed for me, I joyed for her,
Who with the Past meet girt about:
Where her last kiss still warms the air,
Nor can her eyes go out.

poem by Francis Thompson
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The Hand Of Love

The young woman intertwines her hands with her older man
Smiling laughing at his funny charming jokes

The cool rain is the only relief her boiling heart has
His hand softly squeezes hers
He smiles, she smiles
The sun in both of their eyes
Warming them from the inside out

He touches the side of her face
With the hands of steal
But the touch of silk

With stars in her eyes
And the rain soak their innocents
He gently presses his lips to her hand

Baby you are me unspoken princess
She sighs
Has he’s still holding her delicate hand
He be believes that is made out of gold
He knows she is the other half of his soul

He says I love you to her heart as no words are spoken
Looking into her green eyes
That night in the warm rain of mystery

poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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