At Last
Down, down like a pale leaf dropping
Under an autumn sky,
My love dropped into my bosom
Quietly, quietly.
There was not a ray of sunshine
And not a sound in the air,
As she trembled into my bosom--
My love, no longer fair.
All year round in her beauty
She dwelt on the tree-top high:
She danced in the summer breezes,
She laughed to the summer sky.
I lay so low in the grass-dews,
She sat so high above,
She never wist of my longing,
She never dreamed of my life.
But when winds lay bare her dwelling,
And her heart could find no rest,
I called--and she fluttered downward
Into my faithful breast.
I know that my love is fading;
I know I cannot fold
Her fragrance from the frost-blight,
Her beauty from the mould:
But a little, little longer
She shall contented lie,
And wither away in the sunshine
Silently, silently.
Come when thou wilt, grim Winter,
My year is crowned and blest
If when my love is dying
She die upon my breast.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Forever Still
When the last leaf of Autumn
drifts quietly on to the ground,
like a blanket, snowfall softly covers
the beautiful hues that once abound
Warmth that filled our very marrow,
quickly cools to Winter's chill.
When the last leaf of Autumn
rests,
forever still
by
T. Labbe`
Quietly Sad
So quietly sad
Can’t breathe
Just want to talk
To anyone who listens
So quietly sad
Knees into chest
Crocheted beanie
Hair of blue rivers
Time only reveals
Discernible truths
And covers what never was
And the end will be what is
So quietly sad
poem by Marijke McKinney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love's Coming
QUIETLY as rosebuds
Talk to thin air,
Love came so lightly
I knew not he was there.
Quietly as lovers
Creep at the middle noon,
Softly as players tremble
In the tears of a tune;
Quietly as lilies
Their faint vows declare,
Came the shy pilgrim:
I knew not he was there.
Quietly as tears fall
On a warm sin,
Softly as griefs call
In a violin;
Without hail or tempest,
Blue sword or flame,
Love came so lightly
I knew not that he came.
poem by John Shaw Neilson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Will Wait
Behind the tomato fence
I sit as quietly as Sunday
waiting for her to come
and hum me Camelot,
where I have won a showdown
with the red wasps that stole
her ruby nectar.
But the only sound I hear
are the flirty chirps of sparrows,
and the only thing I feel
is air.
Still, I will wait
behind the tomato fence,
sitting as quietly as Sunday
for her to come
and hum me Camelot.
And when I catch sight of her
I know I'll gasp just like I always do.
She steals my heart away in chunks you see,
but she will blow me off
not even noticing I am here
worshiping her shimmer.
Still, I will wait
behind the tomato fence,
sitting as quietly as Sunday
for her to come
and hum me Camelot.
Meanwhile fragrant basil
smiles my mood,
and rosemary is drying.
There is an eye full of brightest brilliant blue,
and a crescent of white moon dying.
Here I will wait
behind the tomato fence,
sitting as quietly as Sunday
for her to come
and hum me Camelot.
poem by Sara Fielder
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The Autumn Sing
Here’s the autumn sing…
A symphony from its falling leaf…
Catching the wind from a future winter…
Rolling through a shy light…
Oh autumn shall not die in winter…
As a promise summer will surely come….
Ah autumn is a second spring…
Not all could see, all leaf is flower….
Autumn warn a terrible winter phase….
No one listen, No one will hear it…
As it is only the sound of silence….
Who can hold an indefinite sound...?
No one embrace the autumn….
As it is only a sad phase…
It gives nothing but an autumn chill….
Spring always comes with a better glory…
Oh autumn with its broken feather…
Could other season patch it up again?
No other season will devote their being….
Autumn suffers alone….
Autumns leaf keep on falling…
Spring comes cheerfully…
Summer comes strongly….
Winter always comes coldly…..
But autumn changes its face every time….
No one knows the differences….
Just the secret of the nature…
Why can’t it’d be a spring?
Why can’t it’d be summer?
Why can’t it’d be winter?
Ah autumn dance again between all the falling leaf…
It enjoys its sadness…
It embraces its pain….
As only from autumn all painter learn…
How to capture a true hidden beauty…
All speaks the same in every season….
But autumn remain different…..
For autumn is an alone singer…
Only a genuinely soul painter could witness its beauty….
That’s all the autumn need….
A silence audience....
Who can make other being see….
A glance of its beauty...
poem by Eva Clara Harahap
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Quietly Making Noise
Quietly making noise
By: jimmy buffett, michael tschudin
1993
Oscar wilde died in bed
Several floors above my head
Living well beyond his means
In that crazy paris scene
Rain falls down in sheets so clear
And no one ever calls me hear
Travelin by myself these days
Im into jazz and felt berets
Far from that old eastern shore
Searchin for strange metaphors
I dont want to be another victim of fashion
No I dont want to see my name in the paper each day
Hey you can leave that to the young turks
Theyre handsome and dashing
Posing for paparazzis down laguna way
Now down in the metro I feel the world start to multiply
Bastille, rubber wheels, spiked heels
Subterranean lullaby
Met an african prancer, a hemisphere dancer
Spied the ghost of brassens
We smiled at the secret we shared
And I hid it like contraband
Quietly making noise (quietly making noise)
Starts with kindergarten toys
Not too soft, not too loud
Just enough to draw a crowd
Quietly, quietly, quietly making noise
Followed the beat
Hey I found myself in this patois spot
Outside a blizzard was blowin
But inside the joint was hot
Zouk songs, rubber thongs, sing-a-longs
The words flew right by my face
You know rhythm and motions a blamma jamma potion
You cannot erase
Quietly making noise (quietly making noise)
Pissin off the old kill-joys
Glasspacks on an hot mustang
A telecaster with a twang
Quietly, quietly, quietly making noise
Yes
Singers and writers and poets
Have flocked here for centuries
The city of light is built upon mountains of memories
Baritone saxophones, monotones
Speak with a voice Ive heard before
Its a lasting impression
A gypsy expression you cannot ignore
Were quietly making noise (quietly making noise)
Starts with kindergarten toys
Not too soft, not too loud
Just enough to draw a crowd
Quietly, quietly, quietly making noise
Yeah, were quietly making noise (quietly making noise)
Pissin off the old kill-joys
Not too soft, not too loud
Just enough to draw a crowd
Were quietly, quietly, quietly
Quietly, quietly, quietly
Quietly, quietly, quietly making noise
Thats right, ooh yeah
A whole lot of beautiful noise
--spoken:
Oh come on children, play those, play those kindergarten toys.
Everybodys a drummer tonight. all right. let it ring now, let
It ring.
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Speak Quietly
Speak more quietly
Because one could hear us well
The world is not ready for your tender words
The world is not ready for us
They would quiet simply say that we are insane
Speak more quietly, but still speak
Of the insane love, of the strong love
That we passionately share
Born out of your tender care
Because one could surprise us well
You know very well
The world would never understand
That in our hearts
We found that thing
Which the world refused to give us
Speak quietly love
I'll hold u close to my heart
The era of our love would start
We are in a world of our own
Sharing the love, which no-one have ever known
While the storm outside is quieting down
Next to me you lie peaceful and quietly
while we are finding deeper meaning
and no emotion is spilled into words.
Next to me you lie peaceful and quietly
and I see your arm hairs rising
from pleasure like a tree flowering in spring
and next to me you lie peaceful and quietly
while we are finding deeper meaning.
poem by Gert Strydom
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There are still traces of discrimination against race and gender, but it's a lot different than when I started out. It just comes quietly, slowly, sometimes so quietly that you don't realize it until you start looking back.
quote by Eddie Bernice Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If Ever You Want Me
If ever you
want me
...to go
only tell me so
& I'll go
quietly as the melting snow.
If ever you
don't love me
...anymore
only tell me so
& I'll go
quietly as a fading rainbow
& cry
someplace far from here
(you need never know)
I quiet
as melted snow
...a dead rainbow.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silent Sound
What is the sound of silence?
-the Colorado Plateau-
-desert alive-
Quietly hear
The color red
Land
The Anasazi southern sun
Native blood
Peace
That surpasses all understanding
Beauty in
Rocks (slick and hushed)
Birds (serene and high)
Plants (sustaining and swaying, quietly)
Sky and clouds (inaudible and covering all)
- Life then, now, always
Soft sweet reassurance
Wind whispers of
Endless, eternal echoes,
Ancient singing.
Silent sound is
Sight
Smell
Sensations- all
Simple and sublime...
The sound of sweet silence is
The removal of distractions,
Is the peacable
SouthWest desert.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Witt
Let me do it quietly and move on,
And take the gun out of my face!
Because i am bullet proof and,
No man points a gun at me.
I am called Witt and,
I am well prepared for any situatiin in life!
So let me do it quietly and move on.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Summer Wedding Autumn Dad
I was a summer blossom
given away;
walking before a tear-scented Wedding Train,
inside an arm-locked processional,
with attending musical strains,
rose petal aisled
marriage vows.
My Dad finally breathed-
not wanting to release
but willed himself.
Love leaves that autumn-
mixing then
separations
and matrimonies,
ironies
and cleavings,
all falling gently
from his tree;
floating
evolving-
winging
paradoxes
and meanings-
leaf rustlings stirring;
signaling
someone's winter
and someone's spring.
Dad cries.
Daughter loves
both autumn leaves
and summer blossomings-
a gardenia scent
in the heavy air
falls quietly-
memory
stroked;
still trembling.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blue Evening
My restless blood now lies a-quiver,
Knowing that always, exquisitely,
This April twilight on the river
Stirs anguish in the heart of me.
For the fast world in that rare glimmer
Puts on the witchery of a dream,
The straight grey buildings, richly dimmer,
The fiery windows, and the stream
With willows leaning quietly over,
The still ecstatic fading skies . . .
And all these, like a waiting lover,
Murmur and gleam, lift lustrous eyes,
Drift close to me, and sideways bending
Whisper delicious words.
But I
Stretch terrible hands, uncomprehending,
Shaken with love; and laugh; and cry.
My agony made the willows quiver;
I heard the knocking of my heart
Die loudly down the windless river,
I heard the pale skies fall apart,
And the shrill stars' unmeaning laughter,
And my voice with the vocal trees
Weeping. And Hatred followed after,
Shrilling madly down the breeze.
In peace from the wild heart of clamour,
A flower in moonlight, she was there,
Was rippling down white ways of glamour
Quietly laid on wave and air.
Her passing left no leaf a-quiver.
Pale flowers wreathed her white, white brows.
Her feet were silence on the river;
And "Hush!" she said, between the boughs.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1909)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Autumn'© Charudutta.Aghor
'Autumn'© Charudutta.Aghor
Miles away which make me walk,
Probes my inner feelings to talk;
Those peach red leaves ripens for a reason,
For, Autumn I love the fall leaf season.
The winds that blow thoughts in mind,
Churns and whips my feelings to grind,
Makes deep Poetic Mountain melts from rock frozen,
For, Autumn I love the fall leaf season.
Gives my skin a fleshy blush of supple,
Bliss thy leaves by tall trees of maple,
It’s the mood which liberally slips loosen,
For, Autumn I love the fall leaf season.
The squashy orange vibrant sky of sunset,
Matures my tender thought to a poetic concept,
Composes lines that rises on poetry horizon,
For, Autumn I love the fall leaf season.
Those endless streets, carpeted by crisp leaves to welcome,
The semi-storm climate, crazily eager for the next blossom,
The god’s gift which specifies, the specialty of a specially chosen,
For, Autumn I love the fall leaf season.
'Autumn'© Charudutta.Aghor.
poem by Charudutta Aghor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The test of an adventure is that when you're in the middle of it, you say to yourself, 'Oh, now I've got myself into an awful mess I wish I were sitting quietly at home.' And the sign that something's wrong with you is when you sit quietly at home wishing you were out having lots of adventure.
Continuously But Dramatically
Continuing quietly is brave
Quitting quietly is brave
I just see open plain that seems to spread any directions
nature is idleness itself
universally competent
universally torturing
Salome's Dancing-Lesson
She that begs a little boon
(Heel and toe! Heel and toe!)
Little gets- and nothing, soon.
(No, no, no! No, no, no!)
She that calls for costly things
Priceless finds her offerings-
What's impossible to kings?
(Heel and toe! Heel and toe!)
Kings are shaped as other men.
(Step and turn! Step and turn!)
Ask what none may ask again.
(Will you learn? Will you learn?)
Lovers whine, and kisses pall,
Jewels tarnish, kingdoms fall-
Death's the rarest prize of all!
(Step and turn! Step and turn!)
Veils are woven to be dropped.
(One, two, three! One, two, three!)
Aging eyes are slowest stopped.
(Quietly! Quietly!)
She whose body's young and cool
Has no need of dancing-school-
Scratch a king and find a fool!
(One, two, three! One, two, three!)
poem by Dorothy Parker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Calgary Morn
Sitting on my friend’s deck
soaking up the morning sun
that promise of another wonderful day
while watching the birds at play,
with the only sound to mar the silence
is a lawnmower cutting grass somewhere,
which scents the air
with the sweet smell of newly cut grass.
I sit quietly with my thoughts
wondering what surprises
this Calgary day is going to bring.
Sunshine smiles from my friends
with a hug or two.
This beautiful Calgary morn
holds much to love
and want to cling on too.
(7 July 2011)
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An enviromental Poem
In your garden, in your house
Tip-toe quietly like a mouse.
You never know what you might find
A squirrel, a dog, or an animal of a different kind!
Out in the bushes, behind the trees
Get down quietly on your knees.
You might see an ant going back to its nest,
Or maybe a robin with its bright red breast.
In the greenhouse where lots of things grow
There are more than just plants in there, you know!
If you look closely you will see lots of things,
Maybe a ladybird with its transparent wings!
In your garden, in your house
Tip-toe quietly like a mouse.
You never know what you might find
A squirrel, a dog, or an animal of a different kind!
poem by Bethan Linscott
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