The Beautiful Land Of Nod
Come, cuddle your head on my shoulder, dear,
Your head like the golden-rod,
And we will go sailing away from here
To the beautiful land of Nod.
Away from life’s hurry, and flurry, and worry,
Away from earth’s shadows and gloom,
To a world of fair weather we’ll float off together
Where the roses are always in bloom.
Just shut up your eyes, and fold your hands,
Your hands like the leaves of a rose,
And we will go sailing to those fair lands
That an atlas never shows.
On the North and the West they are bounded by rest,
On the South and the East by dreams;
‘Tis the country ideal, where nothing is real,
But everything only seems.
Just dropp down the curtains of your dear eyes,
Those eyes like a bright blue-bell,
And we will sail out under starlit skies
To the land where the fairies dwell.
Down the river of sleep our barque shall sweep,
Till it reaches the mystical isle
Which no man has seen, but where all have been,
And there we will pause for awhile.
I will croon you a song as we float along,
To that shore that is blessed of God,
Then ho! for that fair land, we’re off for that rare land,
That beautiful Land of Nod.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Mother India
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
poem by Aziz Ahmad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mother India
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
poem by Aziz Ahmad 'Aziz Moradabadi'
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Whose Country Is This?
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of snakes;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of many waters;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of thieves! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of people;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of oil;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of earthquakes!
Whose country is this?
it is a land full of lovers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of volcanoes!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful flowers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of hansome men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of roses;
Whose country is this?
it is a land ruled only by men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land without rainfall;
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by a woman;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of corruption!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pirates! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by law;
Whose country is this?
It is a land controlled by rebels!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of ice;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pregnant women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of singers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of troubles;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of war! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land with the biggest cemetery in the wolrd!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of desert;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of trees;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pregnant teenagers!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of timber;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of hatred;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of love;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of care;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of peace;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of smokers!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of businesses;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of harlots;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of wise people;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of idiots!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of gold;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of cocoa;
Whose country is this?
It is a alnd full of crabs;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of evil;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of rainfalls;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of ants;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of horses;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pigs;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of statues;
Whose country is this?
it is a land full of birds;
And so on, and so forth!
Because nature had made them so as we see them around us,
But the wise and fool live together on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sea Song of the Exiles
Dear land, farewell!
Waves surge and swell.
Dear land, farewell, --
Blue sky!
Farewell, white cot whence the ripe grapes fall,
Gold blooms that bask on the mossy wall!
Dear land, farewell!
Hill, plain, and dell!
Dear land, farewell, --
Blue sky!
Dear land, farewell!
Waves surge and swell.
Dear land, farewell, --
Blue sky!
Farewell, betrothed, with the pure, pale brow;
'Neath sombre heaven dark billows we plough.
Dear land, farewell!
In thee our loves dwell;
Dear land, farewell, --
Blue sky!
Dear land, farewell!
Waves surge and swell.
Dear land, farewell, --
Blue sky!
Our eyes, whose tears all brightness blot,
Leave the dark wave for a darker lot!
Dear land, farewell!
In our heart's a knell.
Dear land, farewell, --
Blue sky!
poem by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Where Shall We Land
'_Where shall we land you, sweet_?'--Swinburne.
All listlessly we float
Out seaward in the boat
That beareth Love.
Our sails of purest snow
Bend to the blue below
And to the blue above.
Where shall we land?
We drift upon a tide
Shoreless on every side,
Save where the eye
Of Fancy sweeps far lands
Shelved slopingly with sands
Of gold and porphyry.
Where shall we land?
The fairy isles we see,
Loom up so mistily--
So vaguely fair,
We do not care to break
Fresh bubbles in our wake
To bend our course for there.
Where shall we land?
The warm winds of the deep
Have lulled our sails to sleep,
And so we glide
Careless of wave or wind,
Or change of any kind,
Or turn of any tide.
Where shall we land?
We droop our dreamy eyes
Where our reflection lies
Steeped in the sea,
And, in an endless fit
Of languor, smile on it
And its sweet mimicry.
Where shall we land?
'Where shall we land?' God's grace!
I know not any place
So fair as this--
Swung here between the blue
Of sea and sky, with you
To ask me, with a kiss,
'Where shall we land?'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To The Land
To the land of bribes,
To the land of telephones,
To the land of corruptions,
To the land of trains,
To the land of shops,
To the land of thieves,
To the land of connections,
To the land of drugs,
To the land of trucks,
To the land of cats,
To the land of Banks,
To the land of dogs, To the land of footballers,
To the land of dragons,
To the land of hope,
To the land of ice-cream,
To the land of potatoes,
To the land of chocolates,
To the land of tomatoes,
To the land of apples,
To the land of coffee,
To the land of lights,
To the land of ships,
To the land of birds,
To the land of tigers,
To the land of carpets,
To the land of pillows,
To the land of lions,
TO the land of toys,
To the land of horses,
To the land of beds,
To the land of roses,
To the land of love,
To the land of passion,
To the land of romance;
I never new women do snore until i married one.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Land Of The Gone-Away Souls
Oh! that is a beautiful land, I wis,
The land of the Gone-away Souls.
Yes, a lovelier region by far than this
(Though this is a world most fair).
The goodliest goal of all good goals,
Else why do our friends stay there?
I walk in a world that is sweet with friends,
And earth I have ever held dear;
Yes, love with duty and beauty blends
To render the earth-place bright.
But faster and faster, year on year,
My comrades hurry from sight.
They hurry away to the Over-There,
And few of them say farewell;
Yes, they go away with a secret air
As if on a secret quest.
And they come not back to earth to tell
Why that land seems the best.
Messages come from the mystic sphere,
But few know the code of that land,
Yes, many the message but few who hear,
In the din of the world below,
Or hearing the message, can understand
Those truths which we long to know.
But it must be the goal of all good goals,
And I think of it more and more.
Yes, think of that land of the Gone-Away Souls
And its growing hosts of friends
Who will hail my bark when it touches shore
Where the last brief journey ends.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sunny New South Wales
We often hear men boast about the land which gave them birth,
And each one thinks his native land the fairest spot on earth;
In beauty, riches, power, no land can his surpass;
To his, all other lands on earth cannot even hold a glass.
Now, if other people have their boasts, then, say, why should not we,
For we can drink our jovial toast and sing with three times three;
For there's not a country in the world where all that's fair prevails
As here it does in this our land, our sunny New South Wales.
Chorus
Then toast with me our happy land,
Where all that's fair prevails,
Our colour's blue and our hearts are true,
In sunny New South Wales.
Now let us take a passing glance at all that we possess.
That ours is such a wealthy land no stranger e'er would guess.
Why, we've land in store, indeed far more than ever we shall require,
And trees grow thick on every side in spite of axe and fire.
Our sheep and cattle millions count, our wool is classed A1;
In beef and mutton our fair land is not to be outdone.
Why, we've lately seen old England, who boasts her stock ne'er fails,
Has had to send for wholsome meat preserved in New South Wales.
Chorus: Then toast with me, &c.
In childhood California was to us a land of gold,
And people said its riches were so vast, immense, untold.
But time has proved that mineral wealth exists not there alone,
For New South Wales possesses gold in many, many a stone.
And when the gold is taken from out its quartzy veins
A heap of silver, copper, tin, as a residue remains.
In fact we are a mass of wealth in all our hills and dales.
There's not a country half as rich as sunny New South Wales.
Chorus: Then toast with me, &c.
Our climate's good, that all admit, our flowers are sweet and rare;
And scenes abound on every hand so marvellously fair.
Shame on the men who went away and of us wrote such lies.
Why, when Anthony Trollope came out here he nearly lost his eyes.
Our native girls are fair and good, their hearts are pure and true;
And to their colour stick like bricks, the bright Australian blue.
Some never loved a roving life, nor blest the ocean's gales;
But they bless the breeze that blew them to a life in New South Wales.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Land, Ho!
I know ’tis but a loom of land,
Yet is it land, and so I will rejoice,
I know I cannot hear His voice
Upon the shore, nor see Him stand;
Yet is it land, ho! land.
The land! the land! the lovely land!
‘Far off,’ dost say? Far off—ah, blessèd home!
Farewell! farewell! thou salt sea-foam!
Ah, keel upon the silver sand—
Land, ho! land.
You cannot see the land, my land,
You cannot see, and yet the land is there—
My land, my land, through murky air—
I did not say ’twas close at hand—
But—land, ho! land.
Dost hear the bells of my sweet land,
Dost hear the kine, dost hear the merry birds?
No voice, ’tis true, no spoken words,
No tongue that thou may’st understand—
Yet is it land, ho! land.
It’s clad in purple mist, my land,
In regal robe it is apparellèd,
A crown is set upon its head,
And on its breast a golden band—
Land, ho! land.
Dost wonder that I long for land?
My land is not a land as others are—
Upon its crest there beams a star,
And lilies grow upon the strand—
Land, ho! land.
Give me the helm! there is the land!
Ha! lusty mariners, she takes the breeze!
And what my spirit sees it sees—
Leap, bark, as leaps the thunderbrand—
Land, ho! land.
poem by Thomas Edward Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Land
This is my land
Calm and quiet
This is my land
Come and try it
This is my land
No contradicting
This is my land
Everything living
This is my land
Everything together
This is my land
We sing in good weather
This is my land
Everything's connected
This is my land
Nothing's tethered…
Yet
This is my land
It's getting darker
This is my land
Vanished
Beside us-
Not just me,
Us
If you want my land to change,
Our land has to change first
If we work together
We can bring my land back
America Post 911
Land of freedom
Land of war
Land of peace
There you are
America!
Land of spirit truth and grace
Land that will never quit the race
May you fight until you're done
Because the battle has not yet been won
America!
Land of the beautiful
Land of the free
Bring the enemy to his knees
May his conscience sear his soul
Till the bell of victory tolls
America!
This is America land of the brave
Though you hurt us our banners continue to wave
High above the skies our spirits soar
As we replace future's door
America!
poem by Mitzie Thorne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dream Land
Dream Land
Dream Land
What a wonderful place many have seen
But can’t be.
Dream Land
Dream Land
What a horrible place many have seen
And hoped never to be
Dream Land
Dream Land
Many who saw merriment in thy land
Wished never to wake
But wake they must
And when they do
They’re overwhelmed by
Such a sorrowful joy like never before
Dream Land
Dream Land
Struggling they do
Profusely they sweat
And “Jesus! ” they exclaim
When they finally turn their eyes
From the horrors they saw in thy land
Dream Land
Dream Land
What and where are you?
Some think you exist
While others hope you don’t
Do you really exist?
If you do
Where then are you?
If you don’t
Why then do you show thyself to us?
O Dream Land
While do you show thyself to us?
While we sleep
Can’t we see you with our eyes open?
Or are you a world for the blind?
Dream Land
Dream Land
O Dream Land
Where can we find you?
poem by YoungBen Ulebor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Little Land
When at home alone I sit
And am very tired of it,
I have just to shut my eyes
To go sailing through the skies--
To go sailing far away
To the pleasant Land of Play;
To the fairy land afar
Where the Little People are;
Where the clover-tops are trees,
And the rain-pools are the seas,
And the leaves, like little ships,
Sail about on tiny trips;
And above the Daisy tree
Through the grasses,
High o'erhead the Bumble Bee
Hums and passes.
In that forest to and fro
I can wander, I can go;
See the spider and the fly,
And the ants go marching by,
Carrying parcels with their feet
Down the green and grassy street.
I can in the sorrel sit
Where the ladybird alit.
I can climb the jointed grass
And on high
See the greater swallows pass
In the sky,
And the round sun rolling by
Heeding no such things as I.
Through that forest I can pass
Till, as in a looking-glass,
Humming fly and daisy tree
And my tiny self I see,
Painted very clear and neat
On the rain-pool at my feet.
Should a leaflet come to land
Drifting near to where I stand,
Straight I'll board that tiny boat
Round the rain-pool sea to float.
Little thoughtful creatures sit
On the grassy coasts of it;
Little things with lovely eyes
See me sailing with surprise.
Some are clad in armour green--
(These have sure to battle been!)--
Some are pied with ev'ry hue,
Black and crimson, gold and blue;
Some have wings and swift are gone;--
But they all look kindly on.
When my eyes I once again
Open, and see all things plain:
High bare walls, great bare floor;
Great big knobs on drawer and door;
Great big people perched on chairs,
Stitching tucks and mending tears,
Each a hill that I could climb,
And talking nonsense all the time--
O dear me,
That I could be
A sailor on a the rain-pool sea,
A climber in the clover tree,
And just come back a sleepy-head,
Late at night to go to bed.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Failure
THE BOY went out from the ranges grim,
And the breath of the mountains went with him;
With a song in his heart and a smile on his face,
And a light in his eyes for a foremost place:
And the good green earth, and the salt sea spray,
And the soft blue skies, they were his that day;
And, like Eden, ringed with a golden fire—
Afar rose the Land of His Heart’s Desire.
The boy went down to the city’s strife,
And his face was lost in the surge of life;
But a Power that he did not understand
Had nerved his brain and his fighting hand.
And he strove and failed, and he rose and won—
And he failed again ere the fight was done;
But he battled on when the days were dire
To win to the Land of His Heart’s Desire.
And there, in the heart of the stress and din,
’Mid want and labour and wealth and sin,
The strong man struggled with shining eyes,
And forced a passage, and grasped the prize.
And he cried to the Power who had lent the fire:
“Lo! Fame is the Land of My Heart’s Desire!
Give the cup to me with a beaded brim.”
And the Power that he knew not gave it him.
But the air is keen on the Cliffs of Fame,
And the shafts that fly have a deadly aim!
With a foothold scarce, and a sleepless dread
For the gulfs below and the heights o’erhead,
He cried to the Power who had steeled his hand:
“I am outcast yet from my Fairyland!
For Fame is a land where no strength may tire,
But Love is the Land of My Heart’s Desire!”
Then there came to the man all his dream of Love,
With the brow of snow and the eyes of a dove,
With the glint of the sun on her wavy hair,
And her soul as pure as her face was fair.
Like a living lily to him she came,
Till his eyes were wet and his soul was flame,
And she called to him, with an outstretched hand,
And they entered into the Promised Land.
But there came a day when he asked his soul,
“Is this the land, and is this the goal?”
In his heart there lay what his lips denied—
The pang of a hunger unsatisfied.
“For Fame,” he said, “and for Love I wrought;
They are not the things that I should have sought:
’Tis to boundless power that my dreams aspire—
And Wealth is the Land of My Heart’s Desire!”
Then the Power that he did not understand
Gave him ships and houses and gold and land,
And the man’s power grew with each passing year;
But his thoughts were vexed with a sleepless fear,
And his hair grew gray with the iron strain
Of the dread of loss and the lust of gain,
And he bowed his head on his hands and said.
“All things are mine, but my heart is dead!”
And he thought of the boy from the ranges grim
With the breath of the mountains over him,
With a song in his heart and a smile on his face,
And a light in his eyes for a foremost place,
And the good green earth and the salt sea spray,
And the soft blue skies that were his that day,
When, like Eden, ringed with a golden fire,
Afar rose the Land of His Heart’s Desire.
Then clear on his startled ear there fell
A voice like the sound of a silver bell:
“To each is the work that he best can do,
But you turned from the work when it called to you.
And you sought instead for the vulgar praise,
For the lips of love, and for prosperous days.
And with all that the world can give you here,
You have lost the thing that you hold most dear.
For who hears the word that the Gods inspire—
In his work finds the Land of His Heart’s Desire.”
poem by George Essex Evans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beyond
MY heart it lies beyond, dear,
In the land of the setting day,
Where the whispers are soft and fond, dear,
Of the voices that pass away;
And oft, when the night is falling,
5
And a calm is on the sea,
I fancy I hear them calling
rom that far-off land for me.
It is only idle dreaming,
But the dream is full of rest,
10
And up where that glory is streaming,
From the gates of the golden west,
I wander away in spirit,
With a mingled joy and pain,
Till I almost seem to inherit
15
The sweet dead past again.
I see the old dear faces,
I greet them hand to hand;
But sadly too, for the places
Seem strange in that curious land;
20
Till a new light breaks, and all other
Grows dim to my streaming eyes;
For a son has found his mother
In the depths of the throbbing skies.
Yes, my heart it lies beyond, dear,
25
Where that sun is burning low,
And were you not so fond, dear,
I might perhaps—but no!
Are you weary already with walking?
And tears! What tears, dear, too!
30
How selfish of me to be talking,
My darling, in this way to you!
poem by Frederick George Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Native Title
You are welcome to our country
When full respect is paid
To those who souls grew out from where
Their ancestors were laid
This land is our protector
This land our path in life
This land is our great comforter
This land is hurt by strife
Feel the heart that beats within it
As the seasons come and go
Feel the energy within it
From which everything does grow
This land will guide your footsteps
This land will feed you well
This land needs loving kindly
This land is not to sell
This land is just our country
This land is just our home
For its not just who owns this land
But whom this land does own.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love at Sea
WE ARE in love’s land to-day;
Where shall we go?
Love, shall we start or stay,
Or sail or row?
There’s many a wind and way,
And never a May but May;
We are in love’s hand to-day;
Where shall we go?
Our landwind is the breath
Of sorrows kissed to death
And joys that were;
Our ballast is a rose;
Our way lies where God knows
And love knows where.
We are in love’s hand to-day—
Our seamen are fledged Loves,
Our masts are bills of doves,
Our decks fine gold;
Our ropes are dead maids’ hair,
Our stores are love-shafts fair
And manifold.
We are in love’s land to-day—
Where shall we land you, sweet?
On fields of strange men’s feet,
Or fields near home?
Or where the fire-flowers blow,
Or where the flowers of snow
Or flowers of foam?
We are in love’s hand to-day—
Land me, she says, where love
Shows but one shaft, one dove,
One heart, one hand.
—A shore like that, my dear,
Lies where no man will steer,
No maiden land.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Alima
I am too old to have a husband and,
I am still unmarried;
So i keep on crying looking for my lover,
For i want to be with a man before my death.
To the land of the east,
To the land of the west,
To the land of the north,
And to the land of the south;
Yokshan begot Sheba and Dedan but,
Who will come to my aid?
Seven ewe lambs,
To the well of the oath;
Of a Tamarisk tree,
To the well of the seven;
And i am still in the wilderness of Beersheba like,
Alima in the wonderland of husbands.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Golden Island: Arran From Ayr
DEEP set in distant seas it lies;
The morning vapors float and fall,
The noonday clouds above it rise,
Then drop as white as virgin's pall.
And sometimes, when that shroud uplifts,
The far green fields show strange and fair;
Mute waterfalls in sliver rifts
Sparkle adown the hillside bare.
But ah! mists gather, more and more;
And though the blue sky has no tears,
And the sea laughs with light all o'er,--
The lovely Island disappears.
O vanished Island of the blest!
O dream of all things pure and high!
Hid in deep seas, as faithful breast
Hides loves that have but seemed to die,--
Whether on seas dividing tossed,
Or led through fertile lands the while,
Better lose all things than have lost
The memory of the morning Isle!
For lo! when gloaming shadows glide,
And all is calm in earth and air,
Above the heaving of the tide
The lonely Island rises fair;
Its purple peaks shine, outlined grand
And clear, as noble lives nigh done;
While stretches bright from land to land
The broad sea-pathway to the sun.
He wraps it in his glory's blaze,
He stoops to kiss its forehead cold;
And, all transfigured by his rays,
It gleams--an Isle of molten gold.
The sun may set, the shades descend,
Earth sleep--and yet while sleeping smile;
But it will live unto life's end--
That vision of the Golden Isle.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The First of May ( A Memory)
THE WATERS make a music low:
The river reeds
Are trembling to the tunes of long ago—
Dead days and deeds
Become alive again, as on
I float, and float,
Through shadows of the golden summers gone
And springs remote.
Above my head the trees bloom out
In white and red
Great blossoms, that make glad the air about;
And old suns shed
Their rays athwart them. Ah, the light
Is bright and fair!
No suns that shine upon me now are bright
As those suns were.
And, gazing down into the stream,
I see a face,
As sweet as buds that blossom in a dream,
Ere sorrows chase
Fair dreams from men, and send in lieu
Sad thoughts. A wreath
Of blue-bells binds the head—a bluer blue
The eyes beneath.
This is my little Annie’s face;
My child-sweetheart
Whom long ago I lost in that dark place
Where all lives part.
Beside me still I see her stand,
Who is no more.
She walked with me through childhood, hand in hand,
But at the door
Of youth departed from me. Fain
Was I that day
To go with her. Ah, sweetheart, come again
This First of May!
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!