Daft
In the warm yellow smile of the morning,
She stands at the lattice pane,
And watches the strong young binders
Stride down to the fields of grain.
And she counts them over and over
As they pass her cottage door:
Are they six, she counts them seven;
Are they seven, she counts one more.
When the sun swings high in the heavens,
And the reapers go shouting home,
She calls to the household, saying,
'Make haste! for the binders have come
And Johnnie will want his dinner -
He was always a hungry child';
And they answer, 'Yes, it ia waiting';
Then tell you, 'Her brain is wild.'
Again, in the hush of the evening,
When the work of the day is done,
And the binders go singing homeward
In the last red rays of the sun,
She will sit at the threshold waiting,
And with her withered face lights with joy:
'Come, Johnnie, ' she says, as they pass her,
'Come into the house, my boy.'
Five summers ago her Johnnie
Went out in the smile of the morn,
Singing across the meadow,
Striding down through the corn -
He towered above the binders,
Walking on either side,
And the mother's heart within her
Swelled with exultant pride.
For he was the light of the household -
His brown eyes were wells of truth,
And his face was the face of the morning,
Lit with its pure, fresh youth,
And his song rang out from the hilltops
Like the mellow blast of a horn,
And he strode o'er the fresh shorn meadows,
And down through the rows of corn.
But hushed were the voices of singing,
Hushed by the presence of death,
As back to the cottage they bore him -
In the noontide's scorching breath,
For the heat of the sun had slain him,
Had smitten the heart in his breast,
And he who towered above them
Lay lower than all the rest.
The grain grows ripe in the sunshine,
And the summers ebb and flow,
And the binders stride to their labour
And sing as they come and go;
But never again from the hilltops
Echoes the voice like a horn;
Never up from the meadows,
Never back from the corn.
Yet the poor, crazed brain of the mother
Fancies him always near;
She is blest in her strange delusion,
For she knoweth no pain nor fear,
And always she counts the binders
As they pass by her cottage door;
Are they six, she counts them seven;
Are they seven, she counts one more.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Gleaner
METHOUGHT I came unto a world-wide plain
Where souls stood thick as grain at harvest-tide,
And many reapers, full of pious pride,
With rapid scythe-sweeps mowed them down amain;
And zealous binders bound them up like grain
In sheaves: the reapers at each onward stride
Trod many souls down. These the binders eyed
With careless looks or glances of disdain.
But, following slow, a patient Gleaner came
And gathered all the Binders cast aside,
And made fair sheaves thereof. Whereat I cried:
“Why gather these? Who art thou? Name thy name!”
The Gleaner in a sad, sweet voice replied:
“The outcasts’ Saviour—for these, too, I died.”
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Every Little Counts
Every second counts
When I am with you
I think you are a pig
You should be in a zoo
I guess I shouldve known
Id end up on my own
Every second counts when I am with you
Every second counts
Every little counts
When I am with you
You make me feel so good
I never felt so new
I saw you long ago
Though you never let it show
Every little counts when I am with you
Every little counts when I am with you
Every second counts
When I am with you
Even though youre stupid
I still follow you
The smile upon your face,
It always stays in place
Every second counts when I am with you
Every second counts when I am with you
Every second...
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Every Second Counts
Every second counts
Thats what he says
Every second counts
Every single day
All through the night time
And all through the day time
Cant let your world pass through and in to my way
Every second counts
He cant slow down
Every second counts
See his spin around
Hes chasing his shadow
Hes racing the wind
He tells us to follow
Where the ice is so thin
I hope youre holding on
I hope youre holding on
cos every second counts
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
(Hide and seek)
My father gets the wooden stick
he counts from five
i run and hide...
My father is coming with the wooden stick
he counts from four
i close my bedroom door...
My father is looking for me with the wooden stick
he counts from three
as he searches for me...
My father is close by with the wooden stick
he counts from two
my face turns blue...
My father is right next to me
with the wooden stick
he counts from one
now i'm done...
My father finds me
with the wooden stick
he counts from zero
...yes i know, i'm in trouble...
My father says
'there you are!
i found you
now it's your turn to count
and my turn to hide'
...and the game continued...
poem by Allen Steble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Right Where It Counts
Were alone in the room
Playin hexan and doom
And now youre tellin me goodbye
So you want us apart
That puts a knife in my heart
And a tear welling up in my eye
But let me remind you
How much you have been blind too
Youve totally changed me
Mixed me up, rearranged me
My hair how you like
Quit hangin with mike
And now you repay me
By tryin to slay me
I want you to know
That you hit me too low
And that I can barely breathe
If I told you that Im bleeding inside
Would you let me get off my knees
(chorus)
Right where it counts
Thats where you hit me
Right where it counts
Im on my knees
Right where it counts
Stop kicking me, please
Right where it counts
Cmon, cmon, yeah
Right where it counts
I used to play football
I once was a goofball
But you didnt like that
No, you didnt like that
The guys call me whipped
My popularity slipped
Because you just wanted a doormat
We shouldve been friends
And Id do it again
If you and I could get back
Back on the highway
I thought wed share our lives
Me husband, you wife
Now Im confused
And battered and Im bruised
Why are you so mean
Now your ruptured my spleen
And my lowest extremities
If we were alone
And your parents werent home
Id now a hundred obscenities
(chorus 2x)
If I really loved you
This is what youd do
Oh baby, I can love you
Right through that vid
cause thats the way you show me
How much you love me
Or is it really something
Youre trying to say
(chorus 2x)
Right where it counts
(repeat 12x)
song performed by by 2gether
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: The Omniscient God
God counts the trees and beasts upon the earth,
And knows how many leaves, each twig can bear;
He knows the rates of hearts, our thoughts and breath,
And is our loving Father who takes care.
God counts the flakes of snow that hit the peaks,
And knows the drops of rain, the earth receives;
He knows the volume of water in creeks,
And knows the sins of all Adams and Eves.
God knows the fruits a tree will bear ’fore-hand,
And counts the hairs of every scalp of head;
He knows the fertility of each land,
And counts the number born and that are dead.
The Alfa-Omega, God knows all things,
And yet, His foremost love is for earthlings.
6-9-2001
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tracing Raindrops
She sits by the window watching the rain
tracing the drops down the window pane.
Some flow so quickly, some very slow.
She follows each one with her finger like so.
Mama has told her it's just a sweet game
and will pass the time ‘til she's home again.
So she counts raindrops mixed with her tears
watching and waiting ‘till mother appears.
In her head every dropp has a life all its own
and each battles to win, to the bottom they flow.
When they hit the sill she feels quite bad
as that's when each raindropp will die and she's sad.
Suddenly sunshine breaks through the clouds,
a rainbow appears and a familiar sound.
Mother's returning and picks her right up
she's back from her shopping trip, home at last.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Greed Counts Currency
Greed counts currency
While sheer Poverty cries,
With mocking mirth and glee
And a twinkling of the eye.
Greed counts currency
While a Nation slowly dies
Calloused Shame is empty
As Fear closed Freedom's eyes.
Greed counts currency
As in Anger a people cry
The Lust for Power may see
Them give Revolution a try.
............................. ..........................
December 2 2009
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Though bachelors be the strongest stakes, married men are the best binders, in the hedge of the commonwealth.
quote by Thomas Fuller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Widow's Party
"Where have you been this while away,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
'Long with the rest on a picnic lay,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
They called us out of the barrack-yard
To Gawd knows where from Gosport Hard,
And you can't refuse when you get the card,
And the Widow gives the party.
(~Bugle~: Ta--rara--ra-ra-rara!)
"What did you get to eat and drink,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
Standing water as thick as ink,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
A bit o' beef that were three year stored,
A bit o' mutton as tough as a board,
And a fowl we killed with a sergeant's sword,
When the Widow give the party.
"What did you do for knives and forks,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
We carries 'em with us wherever we walks,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
And some was sliced and some was halved,
And some was crimped and some was carved,
And some was gutted and some was starved,
When the Widow give the party.
"What ha' you done with half your mess,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
They couldn't do more and they wouldn't do less,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
They ate their whack and they drank their fill,
And I think the rations has made them ill,
For half my comp'ny's lying still
Where the Widow give the party.
"How did you get away -- away,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
On the broad o' my back at the end o' the day,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
I comed away like a bleedin' toff,
For I got four niggers to carry me off,
As I lay in the bight of a canvas trough,
When the Widow give the party.
"What was the end of all the show,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
Ask my Colonel, for ~I~ don't know,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
We broke a King and we built a road --
A court-house stands where the reg'ment goed.
And the river's clean where the raw blood flowed
When the Widow give the party.
(~Bugle~: Ta--rara--ra-ra-rara!)
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Johnnie Comes Back
All last week and half of today
Johnnie has been a good little girl
Trying to keep her devils at bay
Watching her health return
But she always comes back for more
Hanging her head and banging my door
Johnnie comes back again
(chorus)
I said, johnnie remember
Oh johnnie be good
Please give me some medicine man
Oh johnnie comes back again
Whered she get that tear in her eye
Whoever said she could leave me
Whered she learn to say good-bye
Shes been watching too much t.v.
She only shows up for meals
My medicine chest and my automobiles
Johnnie comes back again
- chorus -
Me Im just an evil demon
Im playing on her weakness
Counting on her sickness
To bring her home again
To use me up and to rob me blind
I guess it shouldnt surprise me
Fighting and flashing like a fish on a line
My god, she must despise me
But she always comes back again
Now it wont be long til shes gone again
Johnnie comes back again
- chorus -
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I try to address my audiences intelligently. The man in the street counts, but sometimes he forgets that he counts.
quote by Roland Joffe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A year's harvest counts on spring; a man's success counts on his diligence.
I believe the Negro blood counts, and counts to my advantage - though it has caused me at times a life of great humiliation and sorrow.
quote by Henry Ossawa Tanner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
By The Sea.
The heat is on the sea, and Noon
Has hushed the sounds upon the shore;
There is a silence evermore
That with the heart is so in tune
That ear and eye their senses steep
As if within a dreamy dew,
As charmed as when the bells of Sleep
To Night's church, Sweet, are calling you.
A sail far off hushed in the light
Comes into view and fades, as 'twere
Something that rose from slumber there:
E'en as a blind man musing might
Image a bird upon the wing,
The picture seems to us the same,
The whole bright noon around the thing,
As if it with the silence came.
And still we lie in the warm grass,
Our senses on the shining sea,
While thought like a sweet lethargy
Counts not the moments as they pass;
As time itself had ceased to stir,
The glamour here on everything
Grows one with us, as all things were
Where now no winds are wandering.
poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mountain Men
The poacher and his daughter
Throw soft shadows on the water in the night.
A thin moon slips behind them
As they pull the net with no betraying light.
And later on the coast road, I meet them
And the old man winks a smile.
And who am I to fast deny the right
To take a fish once in a while?
I walk with them, they wish me luck
When I ship out on the sunday from the kyle.
And from the church I hear them singing
As the ship moves sadly from the pier.
Oh, poachers daughter, sunday best,
Two hundred brave souls share the farewell tear.
Theres a house on the hillside, where the drifting sands are born.
Lay down and let the slow tide wash me
Back to the land where I came from.
Where the mountain men are kings
And the sound of the piper counts for everything.
Did my tour, did my duty. I did all they asked of me.
Died in the trenches and at el alamein
...died in the falklands on t.v.
Going back to the mountain kings
Where the sound of the piper counts for everything.
Long generations from the isles
Sent to tread the foreign miles
Where the spiral ages meet.
Felt naked dust beneath their feet.
Future sun called winds to blow
And the past and present hard-eyed crow
Flew hunting high and circling low over blackened plains of eden.
Theres a child and a woman praying for an end to the mystery.
Hoping for a word in a letter
Fair wind-blown from across the sea
To where the mountain men are kings
And the sound of the piper counts for eveything.
Theres a house on the hillside, where the drifting sands are born.
Lay down and let the slow tide wash me
Back to the land where I came from.
Where the mountain men are kings
And the sound of the piper counts for everything.
Where the real mountain men are kings
And the sound of the piper counts for everything.
Feel the naked dust beneath my toes
While the future sun calls winds to blow
And the past and present black-eyed crow
Flies hunting high and circling low
Between dream mountains of our eden.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Hunter’s Song
RISE! Sleep no more! ’T is a noble morn:
The dews hang thick on the fringed thorn,
And the frost shrinks back, like a beaten hound,
Under the steaming, steaming ground.
Behold, where the billowy clouds flow by,
And leave us alone in the clear gray sky!
Our horses are ready and steady.—So, ho!
I ’m gone, like a dart from the Tartar’s bow.
Hark, hark!—Who calleth the maiden Morn
From her sleep in the woods and the stubble corn?
The horn,—the horn!
The merry, sweet ring of the hunter’s horn.
Now, thorough the copse, where the fox is found,
And over the stream, at a mighty bound,
And over the high lands, and over the low,
O’er furrows, o’er meadows, the hunters go!
Away!—as a hawk flies full at its prey,
So flieth the hunter, away,—away!
From the burst at the cover till set of sun,
When the red fox dies, and—the day is done!
Hark, hark!—What sound on the wind is borne?
’T is the conquering voice of the hunter’s horn.
The horn,—the horn!
The merry, bold voice of the hunter’s horn.
Sound! Sound the horn! To the hunter good
What ’s the gulley deep or the roaring flood?
Right over he bounds, as the wild stag bounds,
At the heels of his swift, sure, silent hounds.
O, what delight can a mortal lack,
When he once is firm on his horse’s back,
With his stirrups short, and his snaffle strong,
And the blast of the horn for his morning song?
Hark, hark!—Now, home! and dream till morn
Of the bold, sweet sound of the hunter’s horn!
The horn,—the horn!
O, the sound of all sounds is the hunter’s horn!
poem by Barry Cornwall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Time Will Call Your Name
Music : rudolf schenker
Lyrics: klaus meine
Theyre days that make you fly
Theyre days you wanna cry
Sometimes the walls come tumbling down
Theyre moments in the dark
When pain just floods your heart
And you surrender one more time
Just take a walk out in the rain
With every drop that falls
You know the sun will shine again
Theyre days youre naturally high
Theyre days you wanna die
Sometimes your world goes down in flames
Theyre moments deep in love
But when it breaks your heart
You just surrender one more time
Just take a walk out in the rain
With every step you make
You learn that life means constant change
Tomorrows all that counts
As life goes round n round
You gotta draw the line
Goodbye yesterday
Tomorrows all that counts
As life goes round n round
And if you keep the faith
Time will call your name
Take a walk out in the rain
With every breath you take
You feel your soul is free again
Tomorrows all that counts
As life goes round n round
You gotta draw the line
Goodbye yesterday
Tomorrows all that counts
As life goes round n round
And if you keep the faith
Time will call your name
Tomorrows all that counts
As life goes round n round
You gotta draw the line
Goodbye yesterday
Tomorrows all that counts
As life goes round n round
And if you keep the faith
Time will call your name
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
What's beautiful is all that counts, pal. That's ALL that counts.
quote by Jack Nicholson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!