The Harrows
Our harrows to a triangle would fold,
And so they'd stay until there was the need
To work the ground and harrow in the seed;
But now as warmer days replaced the cold;
As winter's icy grip released its hold,
The time had come to plant the fields that we'd
Ploughed well and deep to grow our summer feed,
As westward billowed clouds, and thunder rolled.
The harrows hitched - but then a shrill protest;
For there upon them woven neat and round
A wagtail and her mate had built their nest
And from it softly came a plaintive sound
As bravely parents chided on the wing;
And so we borrowed harrows all that spring.
Sonnet #9
© Dennis N. O'Brien,2012
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
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Related quotes
Fold It All Away
The fire, the heat, the hungry daze -
I will fold it all away.
Like clothes just meant for summer days
It’s winter now - cold here to stay
You made my heart soar and leap
And now my heart will go to sleep
Like clothes just meant for summer days
It’s winter now - cold here to stay
All desire in me is gone -
Another’s touch would just feel wrong
Like clothes just meant for summer days
It’s winter now - cold here to stay
Your smile’s engraved inside my head,
The view of you, touching foreheads
Like clothes just meant for summer days
It’s winter now - cold here to stay
A kiss that made my heart melt,
Feelings I had never felt
Like clothes just meant for summer days
It’s winter now - cold here to stay
I loved to hear your laughter most
But now the sound will be a ghost
Like clothes just meant for summer days
I will fold it all away
Such warmth and love can never stay
I will fold
It all
Away
Higher than I’ve ever been
The fall is here - let it begin
But I will rise again someday
The cold and winter cannot stay
For now that day seems far away
Like clothes just meant for summer days
And I will fold
Every piece
Away
It’s winter now
The cold
Will stay
The Skylark
The rolls and harrows lie at rest beside
The battered road; and spreading far and wide
Above the russet clods, the corn is seen
Sprouting its spiry points of tender green,
Where squats the hare, to terrors wide awake,
Like some brown clod the harrows failed to break.
Opening their golden caskets to the sun,
The buttercups make schoolboys eager run,
To see who shall be first to pluck the prize -
Up from their hurry, see, the skylark flies,
And o'er her half-formed nest, with happy wings
Winnows the air, till in the cloud she sings,
Then hangs a dust-spot in the sunny skies,
And drops, and drops, till in her nest she lies,
Which they unheeded passed - not dreaming then
That birds which flew so high would drop agen
To nests upon the ground, which anything
May come at to destroy. Had they the wing
Like such a bird, themselves would be too proud,
And build on nothing but a passing cloud!
As free from danger as the heavens are free
From pain and toil, there would they build and be,
And sail about the world to scenes unheard
Of and unseen - Oh, were they but a bird!
So think they, while they listen to its song,
And smile and fancy and so pass along;
While its low nest, moist with the dews of morn,
Lies safely, with the leveret, in the corn.
poem by John Clare
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Autumn In The South
In April when the first cool days
Foretell of winter's coming frost,
And waning sun's soft golden rays
Shine weaker now that summer's lost;
When morning mists, in veils of grey,
The trees along the river cloak,
Until the breezes blow away
The clinging mist, like clouds of smoke.
Then under skies of palest blue,
In these clear days before the cold,
The trees that shed their gowns bestrew
The fading green with flecks of gold.
© Dennis N. O'Brien,2011 - 2012
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
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Winter Gone
Winter is closed for another year
Spring has sprung upon us
Was the winter kind to you
I miss winter now its gone laying by the fire
The charcoal wood the flickering of the flames
Now the warmer days are coming
New life is born in spring
New dreams are dreamed
New beginings sad endings
The days will be longer now the cold has left the ground
For three months now we will have spring shower and sunshine
I miss you winter and all your beauty
But you will be back this i am certain
After the spring comes the summer
The scorching heat the rolls of thunder
I love the summer storms the lightning the rain
But i miss you winter and all your beauty
So goodbye my beauty for another year
I will miss you until autumn appears
Love Has Its Seasons
A cool chill sweeps through the air
winter is approaching
soon the grass will have a blanket of white
nights will get longer
then soon it will be over for another year.
Spring will be with us
new growth will spring up from the ground
the days will get warmer
when summer once again appears
spreading its colours everywhere.
Then it is back into autumn once more
and the chilly air that it brings.
Love has its seasons also to share
sometimes it can be frosty
and winter chills fill the air
it can be cold
like the white blanket of snow.
Love can be like spring
imparting new life as it begins to grow.
The glow that if offers
is like the warming summer sun
that blossoms into beauty
before the ravages of autumn come
and the years trickle away.
poem by David Harris
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Life Is Lovely All the Year
When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!
Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!
In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.
Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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To The Hummingbird
I cannot heal thy green gold breast,
Where deep those cruel teeth have prest,
Nor bid thee raise thy ruffled crest,
And seek thy mate,
Who sits alone within thy nest,
Nor sees thy fate.
No more with him in summer hours
Thou'lt hum amid the leafy bowers,
Nor hover round the dewy flowers,
To feed thy young;
Nor seek, when evening darkly lowers,
Thy nest high hung.
No more thou'lt know a mother's care
Thy honied spoils at eve to share,
Nor teach thy tender brood to dare
With upward spring,
Their path through fields of sunny air,
On new fledged wing.
For thy return in vain shall wait
Thy tender young, thy fond fond mate,
Till night's last stars beam forth full late
On their sad eyes;
Unknown, alas! thy cruel fate,
Unheard thy cries!
poem by Jones Very
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Aspenglow
This song appears on four albums, and was first released on the take me to tomorrow album, and has also been released on the the rocky mountain collection and the country roads collection albums
Ther version appears on the rocky mountain christmas album.
See the sunlight through the pine
Taste the warm of winter wine
Dream of softly falling snow
Winter snow aspenglow
As the winter days unfold
Hearts grow warmer with the cold
Peace of mind is all you know
Winter snow aspenglow
Aspen is a life to live
See how much there is to give
See how strongly you believe
See how much you may receive
Smiling faces all around
Laughter is the only sound
Memories that cant grow old
Winter snow aspenglow
Aspen is a life to live
See how much there is to give
See how strongly you believe
See how much you may receive
See the sunlight through the pine
Taste the warm of winter wine
Dream of softly falling snow
Winter snow aspenglow
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song: On Borrowed Time
We're all living on borrowed time,
Near the brooding sea and brine.
And we grow our primate's spine,
In every clime.
Since we crawled out from 'neath the grime,
And evolved to a species – prime.
We've been living on borrowed time,
On borrowed time.
On borrowed time. We feed and dine.
On borrowed time. In swill like swine.
On borrowed time. We sup our wine.
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
On borrowed time. In slow decline.
On borrowed time. No season shines.
On borrowed time. No reason rhymes.
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
We're all living on borrowed time,
Acting out our roles in mime,
As if you cannot tell that I'm confused.
We're all living on borrowed time,
And we're captured hook and line.
Enraptured lives entwine as minds unloose.
On borrowed time, by frantic chime,
Of doomsday clocks and scam sub-prime.
On borrowed time, we count the dime.
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
From that day of Eve's droll crime,
When dull Adam su*ked the lime,
We've been living on borrowed time,
On borrowed time.
On borrowed time. By dread defined.
On borrowed time. Knee-deep in slime.
On borrowed time. We moan and whine.
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
On borrowed time. To heights sublime.
On borrowed time. Statistics climb.
On borrowed time. Who reads the signs?
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
poem by David SmithWhite
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The Spring—Time, O The Spring--Time
The Spring-time, O the Spring-time!
Who does not know it well?
When the little birds begin to build,
And the buds begin to swell.
When the sun with the clouds plays hide-and-seek,
And the lambs are bucking and bleating,
And the colour mounts to the maiden's cheek,
And the cuckoo scatters greeting;
In the Spring-time, joyous Spring-time!
The Summer, O the Summer!
Who does not know it well?
When the ringdoves coo the long day through,
And the bee refills his cell.
When the swish of the mower is heard at morn,
And we all in the woods go roaming,
And waiting is over, and love is born,
And shy lips meet in the gloaming;
In the Summer, ripening Summer!
The Autumn, O the Autumn!
Who does not know it well?
When the leaf turns brown, and the mast drops down,
And the chestnut splits its shell.
When we muse o'er the days that have gone before,
And the days that will follow after,
When the grain lies deep on the winnowing-floor,
And the plump gourd hangs from the rafter;
In the Autumn, thoughtful Autumn!
The Winter, O the Winter!
Who does not know it well?
When, day after day, the fields stretch gray,
And the peewit wails on the fell.
When we close up the crannies and shut out the cold,
And the wind sounds hoarse and hollow,
And our dead loves sleep in the churchyard mould,
And we feel that we soon shall follow;
In the Winter, mournful Winter!
poem by Alfred Austin
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Poetica
Spring is here
And I think spring is here to stay
The cold days of winter God took away
And winter is resting away for the summe
But now spring is working hard
Than when summer arrive spring will be able to rest all through the Summer
The nights are beautiful during the spring because they are mild
poem by Aldo Kraas
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It Really Never Was...
the day is getting darker
painting shadows on the wall
broken wings of blue skies
going for a moment
everything's now in the evening
with longings in the deep
and wishes still not happening
the winter
glasses with frosty roses
and perfect days in somberness
in the white weather
every thought
is now alone
reaching to the mountains
faraway
in silences of time
every hour
is cold and getting colder
with drifting clouds
in northern skies
that can't hold back
how do I not be alone
when times are like these
how do I not feel the blues
when the clouds surrounds me
with few landings
into summer thoughts
every hour
is cold and getting colder
with drifting clouds
in northern skies
that can't hold back
the winter
comes soft and sweet
with clean glisten thoughts
and snowflakes that never stop pouring...
when it gets cold outside
the winter
oh the winter
how fresh it can get
how cold it can get
it really never was...
full of romantic
it just has these surprises
in the weather
that can't hold back
the clouds that surrounds me
it really never was...
just the winter
it really never was...
just the winter
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Farm
Cold windy, snow day on the farm. The black weather vane, spun like a merry go round on the main red barn roof, where the livestock was housed. A family of white winged doves roosted under the white pine over hang of the hay barn.A large equipment building with a slopped roof to store tractors blades, harrows, hole diggers, mowers and tillers during harsh weather.windbreakers, Giant cypress trees snow covered, upright white friars, three rows deep, who never need to sleep. standing guard against mother nature's fury.
poem by Michael Andrew
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Farm@
Cold windy, snow day on the farm. The black weather vane, spun like a merry go round on the main red barn roof, where the livestock was housed. A family of white winged doves roosted under the white pine over hang of the hay barn.A large equipment building with a slopped roof to store tractors blades, harrows, hole diggers, mowers and tillers during harsh weather.windbreakers, Giant cypress trees snow covered, upright white friars, three rows deep, who never need to sleep. standing guard against mother nature's fury.
poem by Michael Andrew
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Frozen Winter Themes
Our frozen landscape capturing
A world all fresh and cold
As we bundle up so warmly
Winter stories will be told
The crunch of snow beneath our feet
Our footsteps leaving prints
Mittened hands rolling tight
Snowballs to be sent
Oh look, the picnic table
We use throughout the summer
Munching nummy sandwiches
When days are so much warmer
Memories of summertime
Have turned to winter joy
Sparkling childhood fantasies
For every girl and boy
But oh, how exciting winter is
We must enjoy it every day
‘Cause spring is ‘round the corner
Frozen themes won’t stay that way!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Shall You Compare Me?
Shall you compare me to a summer's day?
I am more humid,
and in the winter when the world is gray
I am more tumid
than northern nights when love defies the cold
and makes me sing,
or autumn with the falling of the gold,
or dreams in spring.
To summer days do not compare me, dearie,
in spring and fall
and winter when the days are somewhat dreary,
I hear your call.
(12/7/97/Inspired by a satire of the Shakespeare sonnet written by the English poet Wendy Coates.)
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Good Ground
After driving all night Daddy stopped the car
Said, "Wake up kids, here we are
This is our new home"
From that Oldsmobile all I could see
Was an ocean of fields out in front of me
It just rolled on, on and on
Daddy crossed the fence and he knelt down
Filled his hands with rich farmland and said
"This is good ground"
I had it all underneath my feet
There was room to grow - there was time to breathe
And dreams stretched high under summer skies
This is where I'm from - this is who I am
Down these roads I became a man
And they're calling me - where my roots run deep
Deep down - this is good ground
Mama had me diggin' in her flower bed
There it was an arrowhead
And all I wanted to be, was Cherokee
Seasons change and childhood goes
I laid down my homemade bow for a brown-eyed girl
She changed my world
I learned to drive so we could ride around
We made the sweetest memories in it
On good ground
I had it all underneath my feet
There was room to grow - there was time to breathe
And dreams stretched high under summer skies
This is where I'm from - this is who I am
Down these roads I became a man
And they're calling me where my roots run deep
Deep down - this is good ground
I drove all night then I stopped the car
Said, "Wake up kids, here we are
This is our new home
It's been too long"
Crossed that fence and I knelt down
Said, "Everybody gather 'round
Hold out your hands, this is good ground"
You've got it all underneath your feet
There's room to grow - there's time to breathe
And dreams stretch high under summer skies
This is where I'm from - this is who I am
Down these roads I became a man
And they're calling me where my roots run deep
Deep down - this is good ground
song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Seasons Are Like You
The seasons are like you
Flowers bloom humming birds come home everything
Changes but not you you stay the same they must
Leave and you will stay cause you are my winter
Spring summer and fall you stay with me through
The seasons cause you are my winter spring summer
And fall stay with me you have the eyes of winter
The face of spring the body of summer the hair of
Fall because you are like winter cool and calm you
Are like spring beautiful and blossoming you are
Like summer warm and caring you are like fall
Gentle and long lasting cause you are like winter spring
Summer and fall you are my seasons without you I
Am nothing do not leave me I need you careing stay
Please I need you
this is dedicated to savannah
poem by Tucker Lane
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Winter
Winter comes; and our complaints
Grow apace as summer faints,
Waning days grow dull and drear,
Something tells, too well, I fear,
That I've found a germ or two;
Something seems - ee! - ah! Tish-OO.
Subthig certigly does tell
That I'b very far frob weel.
Ad I'b cadging cold, I fear
As the wading days grow near,
Winter cubs; ad our complades
Grow apace as subber fades.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Seasons of Promise
Winter is a time of warmth when I am close to you
A time of sharing stories and of praising what is true
The cold wind can be daunting when one is all alone
But Winter is a time of warmth when I am close to you
Spring is filled with wonderment when I am close to you
A time of bursting energy and life so bold and new
The rain can be quite chilling when one is all alone
But Spring is filled with wonderment when I am close to you
Summer's light is restful when I am close to you
As nature paints a picture with pleasing greens and blue
The heat can be exhausting when one is all alone
But Summer's light is restful when I am close to you
Autumn days are crisp and clear when I am close to you
The reds and golds come once again, yet always seem so new
Letting go brings sadness when one is all alone
But Autumn days are crisp and clear when I am close to you
I will be with you in Winter when snow is thick and cold
I will be with you in Springtime when new life is taking hold
I will be with you in Summer when sun and growth abound
I will be with you when Autumn's old life decorates the ground
poem by Mark Bratlie
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