En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Tendril’s Faith

Under the snow in the dark and the cold,
A pale little sprout was humming;
Sweetly it sang, ‘neath the frozen mold,
Of the beautiful days that were coming.

“How foolish your songs, ” said a lump of clay,
“What is there, I ask, to prove them?
Just look at the walls between you and the day,
Now, have you the strength to move them? ”

But under the ice and under the snow
The pale little sprout kept singing,
“I cannot tell how, but I know, I know,
I know what the days are bringing.”

“Birds, and blossoms, and buzzing bees,
Blue, blue skies above me,
Bloom on the meadows and buds on the trees,
And the great glad sun to love me.”

A pebble spoke next: “You are quite absurd.”
It said, “with your song’s insistence;
For I never saw a tree or a bird,
So of course there are none in existence.”

“But I know, I know, ” the tendril cried,
In beautiful sweet unreason;
Till lo! from its prison, glorified,
It burst in the glad spring season.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Summer Song

The meadow lark’s trill and the brown thrush’s whistle
From morning to evening fill all the sweet air,
And my heart is as light as the down of a thistle –
The world is so bright and the earth is so fair.
There is life in the wood, there is bloom on the meadow;
The air drops with songs that the merry birds sing.
The sunshine has won, in the battle with shadow,
And she’s dressed the glad earth with robes of the spring.

The bee leaves his hive for the field of red clover
And the vale where the daisies bloom white as the snow,
And a mantle of warm yellow sunshine hangs over
The calm little pond, where the pale lillies grow.
In the woodland beyond it, a thousand gay voices
Are singing in chorus some jubilant air.
The bird and the bee and all nature rejoices,
The world is so bright, and the earth is so fair.

I am glad as a child, in this beautiful weather;
I have tossed all my burdens and trials away;
My heart is as light – yes, as light as a feather; -
I am care-free, and careless, and happy to-day.
Can it be there approaches a dark, dreary to-morrow?
Can shadows e’er fall on this beautiful earth?
Ah! To-day is my own! No forebodings of sorrow
Shall darken my skies, or shall dampen my mirth.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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My November Guest

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise

poem by Robert Frost
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Spring Time Is Coming

Beautiful Spring is coming,
Ah, yes, will soon be here,
For the clear bright sun is shining
All human hearts to cheer.
One the brightest gems of nature
Is the orb that o'er us shines,
And o'er the wide creation,
It'll shine to the end of time.

The birds will soon be singing
On shrub and bough of trees,
Their notes will soon be ringing
Out, forth so merrily.
They love the merry spring time,
Those little birds we love,
They love the pleasant sunshine
That comes down from above.

We can hear them sweetly singing
From early morn, till night.
They make music in the woodland
Those little birds; so bright,
We should dearly love them,
Those little harmless things,
And when we hear their music,
We know that it is spring.

Ah; it's pleasant in the springtime,
All nature seems so gay.
Bright flowers in the sunshine,
Sweet fragrance can display.
The hills, and dales, and meadows,
So beautifully covered o'er;
With natures richest verdure,
The green grass, as of yore.

The winter will soon be over,
With its cold and chilly winds.
It is sad and dreary ever,
Yet its dying, free from sin.
Now the springtime is coming,
Ah, yes, will soon be here.
We will welcome in its coming
In this glad new year.

poem by Julia A Moore
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Something About The Girl Called Spring (Sonnet Corona)

I

Just after winter you are back enchanting
with unfolding blossoms on hot sunny days
playing your roles in all your beautiful ways
as if every day is a grand setting

with colours and smells alluring, inviting
man, animals and insects to stray
in orchards, gardens and in the veldt to play
wherever you may be wandering

while insects and birds sing sweet melodies,
even the breeze is charming
in the season that you bequeath
that becomes a time of sweet memories
while everywhere life is swarming;
flowers are as fragrant as your breath.

II

Flowers are as fragrant as your breath
and outside the sun does shine
where flowers and insects ephemeral awaits death
living just as small specs of the will divine.

There are tales about flowers and butterflies that you tell,
about all the minute things, before the first shadows fall
but you have to mention the Creator as well
who fathered everything, created all.

His gardens fill the earth in sheer exuberance
while in summer and spring, in daylight hours
bees, butterflies and birds dance
around the fragrant flowers

in their winged flight,
from early twilight.

III

From early twilight
you are everywhere sent
until the dark night
for the whole world’s enjoyment

and flowering fair
you dance along
without a moment to spare
singing a cheerful song

as a seasonal creature being sweet,
dressed very serene
dancing with fairly like feet
as the essence of the productive machine

and nature everywhere tells,
spring is awaking in smells.

IV

Spring is awaking in smells
with birds singing
rising from the valleys and dells,
sounding in joy about the beauty she is bringing

even every bird, deer and bee,
as the blessings have come
as a time of tranquillity to some
until all of nature is happy and free

when love is finally finding its home
and spring is especially dear to me,
in the air above there’s a vibrant hue
as if it’s a living kind of blue

specked with flocks of birds in their flight;
spring is dressed in white.

V

Spring is dressed in white,
dressed for her wedding day,
when she blesses wherever her flowers stray
in celebration in every day and night

while she dances from early morning light
inviting all her guests, the birds and bees to play,
while she lingers everything is gay
in colours jubilant and bright

with butterflies filling the air,
humming yellow and black bees,
even joined by flying birds that in joy sing
roaming among the almond, peach and pear,
flying to and fro from the blue gum trees
in the unfolding of spring.

VI

In the unfolding of spring
it came to my mind
the words, the deeds and every thing,
of the troublesome kind

that man does to his fellow human beings
as if he is inclined
to act only to his own interest without any feelings,
as if so designed

but around me the new awakenings
are totally unrestrained
in days and evenings
with beauty that is gained

while everywhere flowers are rising,
I long for an eternal spring’s blessing.

VII

I long for an eternal spring’s blessing
as if the Godly plan
in a place where everything is living,
is still in effect for man,

where the songs of birds through the hubbub ring
as if the singing birds are right here
bringing pleasure to everything
making existing so sweet and sincere,

as if from the very beginning
the Lord God was near,
even before human beings were sinning
when these joyous songs fall on the ear:
.
with all of the love that God is granting,
just after winter you are back enchanting.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Drift Glow (from, MySpace)

Drift glow
Drift glow
As white as snow
Into the openness
Of bright sky heaven fresh

Mighty in its blue
Into going and renew
Drift glow
White as snow

I hear the birds singing
Outside - in a tree
Wonderful tones bringing
Up and down the scale free
Love songs for their nest
And hope to come and see
When with young it's blessed
And cared for compassionately

Drift glow
Drift glow
As white as snow
Into the openness
Of space and clear enmesh

Something to come here through
When tomorrow is up to do
Drift glow
White as snow

In with its many days singing

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Drift Glow

Drift glow
Drift glow
As white as snow
Into the openness
Of bright sky heaven fresh

Mighty in its blue
Into going and renew
Drift glow
White as snow

I hear the birds singing
Outside - in a tree
Wonderful tones bringing
Up and down the scale free
Love songs for their nest
And hope to come and see
When with young it's blessed
And cared for compassionately

Drift glow
Drift glow
As white as snow
Into the openness
Of space and clear enmesh

Something to come here through
When tomorrow is up to do
Drift glow
White as snow

In with its many days singing

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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I Told You

I told you the winter would go, love,
I told you the winter would go,
That he'd flee in shame when the south wind came,
And you smiled when I told you so.
You said the blustering fellow
Would never yield to a breeze,
That his cold, icy breath had frozen to death
The flowers, the birds, and trees.

And I told you the snow would melt, love,
In the passionate glance o' the sun;
And the leaves o' the trees, and the flowers and bees,
Would come back again, one by one.
That the great, gray clouds would vanish,
And the sky turn tender and blue;
And the sweet birds would sing, and talk of the spring
And, love, it has all come true.

I told you that sorrow would fade, love,
And you would forget half your pain;
That the sweet bird of song would waken ere long,
And sing in your bosom again;
That hope would creep out of the shadows,
And back to its nest in your heart,
And gladness would come, and find its old home,
And that sorrow at length would depart.

I told you that grief seldom killed, love,
Though the heart might seem dead for awhile.
But the world is so bright, and full of warm light
That 'twould waken at length, in its smile.
Ah, love! was I not a true prophet?
There's a sweet happy smile on your face;
Your sadness has flown - the snow-drift is gone,
And the buttercups bloom in its place.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Spring Fever

Roy orbison
This lackadaisical mood is driving me mad, Im feeling so lazy
Flowers in bloom, and Im humming a tune
Ive looked at the moon till Im crazy
The temperature is a little bit warm, and though I know he meant no harm
Oh, spring fever has got me in love with you, with you, with you, oh, spring fever
Church bells are ringing and the birdies are singing, cute little cupid is calling
The birds and the bees and the budding trees have made the love bug come calling
I feel just like a love sick fool, mother nature, now dont be cruel because oh,
Spring fever has got me so in love with you, with you, with you, oh, spring fever
Spring has sprung, well Ive really been stung, theres no reason to doubt it
Im really in love, cupid gave me the shove, there aint no two ways about it
By this beautiful sky of blue I swear Ill never get over you, oh spring fever
Has got me so in love with you, oh, spring fever

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter

Soft fluffy Snow fresh on frozen ground,

Green grass, and newly blue blooming buds bulging from all around,

Days becoming longer, heat growing stronger,
Birds and animals making their beautiful sounds.

Trees becoming bald and brittle,
Swaying in the wind like evil puppets,
Children dressed in creepy, costumes.
The feeling of death creeping over everyone.

Lying on a frozen landscape,
Looking up at the falling white oblivion,
Millions marching in all working together to drowned the green army,
Giving up and going dormant realizing there is no escape,
Plants and animals, wrapped, chained, and bound.

Every Year, season, month, week, day, hour, minute, second, leading into the next, all the way till that last tick on the clock, when my pulse goes numb and faith is lost in an endless internal dark void.
Stop! Go back!

Every year, season, month, week, day, hour, minute, second, I will get to spend with the most beautiful girl in the world! Beauty unimaginable. Every second, minute, hour, day, season, year, decade, century, spent happily with her till the day my pulse goes numb and I drift off into a bright, white, light for eternity with my sweet lover in my arms!
That's my life season by season, spent in happiness, bliss, and virtue forever and ever! Forever and always! And I wouldn't have it any other way.

poem by Jacob Gifford
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The First Of October

The first of October a beautiful day
And in the blue sky just a few specks of gray
And sunshine on the Parkland and on the park trees
And the warmth of Spring is in the freshening breeze,
The malelucas resplendent in their blossoms of white
And the magpies are piping in the warm sunlight,
The first of October and the capeweed in bloom
And beautiful golden flowers cover the broom,
In the paddock by the wood the grey kangaroos graze
They often venture out of cover on pleasant Spring days,
The first day of the second month of the Spring
And in the woodland nesting birds chirp and sing
And the sun shining brightly in the clear blue sky
And the swallows above the paddocks they sing as they fly.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Verdant Lands of Spring

(from the title of an NLP anthology) Spring rains begin, to refresh the land,
An' beautiful spring flowers begin, to make their stand,
Orange pink blue yellow and every pretty color,
Decorating the hillsides, in a truly rich splendor,
Making their appearance, after cold winter nights,
And the cold wind that to me, seemed really a fright,
Yet now everywhere, it's turning luscious green,
An' beautiful spring birds, will soon be seen,
Now sweet peas blue bonnet flowers an' daffodils,
Are coloring an' dotting the meadows an' hills,
An' springtime can last as long as it wills,
An' I'll never complain o' the fresh spring rains,
That refresh an' green up, the lovely hills an' plains,
An' meadows for sheep an' cattle an' stallions alike,
An' am getting myself ready, for a long fiel' hike,
An' there will be calves an' lambs, an' colts very soon,
And plenty of grass and plenty of room,
As the verdant lands of spring, burst into bloom.

poem by George Kick
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Now Those Times Are Here Again (from Minutes of Falling Days)

Now those times are here again
When the days will become darker
And in the hearts of various men
Yesterdays shall become sparker

When the snow will fall and glow
Bringing chilliness and holidays
As each month to darkness will go
In the glisten down falling glaze

When the snow is back in here
Silvery white on a frozen earth
For now this time’s coming near
With its mistletoes and mirth

With its snow-white cold ice
Bracing windows in a frosty rose
Morning dark and twilight skies
When on treetops cold wind blows

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Pale

Pale blue clouds, in a pale blue sky,
Pale sea birds, fly every which way.
O'er the pale blue sea, they softly fly,
Throughout the pale blue day.

Pale brown grass, withering alone,
Amid the sand dunes dying.
Pale as a sun bleached animal bone,
As you hear the sea breeze sighing.

Pale grey mist upon the sea,
Slowly creeping to the shore.
Pale giant tarpons jumping free,
As the pale Atlantic, gently roars.

12/3/11 Alton Texas

poem by Juan Olivarez
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Seasons

Spring, a symbol of rebirth
Starting another season on earth
New buds open to the sun
Now the spring has begun.

Summer once again is here
Sky is wonderful blue and clear
Growths of colour on display
That's a lovely summers day.

Autumn leaves go blowing by
Lifting high up to the sky
Soon they scatter without sound
Gently cascading to the ground.

Winter comes around with branches bare
A spiders web in the suns pale glare
Frost so cold that it burns
Awaiting 'till the spring returns.

Every season a different thing
Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring
Cut the grass, shovel the snow
Or bake in the sun 'till you glow.

© Hazel 2010

poem by Hazel Connelly
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A Beautiful Creation

It was yesterday,
I cannot walk straight
my body was bended
by too much cold of winter.

It was yesterday
when I worry my future
not knowing where to go
my heart was filled with sorrow.

Then I found
this little sprout in my garden
which, in no more time
will surely become
a beautiful flower
this....
little sprout
I found in my garden.

Oh, little sprout,
you have come just in time
reminding me that,
If I'd be strong to survive
the harsh season of my life
I, in this world, just like you
will also be
a beautiful creation
of the One who created.

poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Warble Of Lilac-Time

WARBLE me now, for joy of Lilac-time,
Sort me, O tongue and lips, for Nature's sake, and sweet life's
sake--and death's the same as life's,
Souvenirs of earliest summer--birds' eggs, and the first berries;
Gather the welcome signs, (as children, with pebbles, or stringing
shells;)
Put in April and May--the hylas croaking in the ponds--the elastic
air,
Bees, butterflies, the sparrow with its simple notes,
Blue-bird, and darting swallow--nor forget the high-hole flashing his
golden wings,
The tranquil sunny haze, the clinging smoke, the vapor,
Spiritual, airy insects, humming on gossamer wings,
Shimmer of waters, with fish in them--the cerulean above; 10
All that is jocund and sparkling--the brooks running,
The maple woods, the crisp February days, and the sugar-making;
The robin, where he hops, bright-eyed, brown-breasted,
With musical clear call at sunrise, and again at sunset,
Or flitting among the trees of the apple-orchard, building the nest
of his mate;
The melted snow of March--the willow sending forth its yellow-green
sprouts;
--For spring-time is here! the summer is here! and what is this in it
and from it?
Thou, Soul, unloosen'd--the restlessness after I know not what;
Come! let us lag here no longer--let us be up and away!
O for another world! O if one could but fly like a bird! 20
O to escape--to sail forth, as in a ship!
To glide with thee, O Soul, o'er all, in all, as a ship o'er the
waters!
--Gathering these hints, these preludes--the blue sky, the grass, the
morning drops of dew;
(With additional songs--every spring will I now strike up additional
songs,
Nor ever again forget, these tender days, the chants of Death as well
as Life;)
The lilac-scent, the bushes, and the dark green, heart-shaped leaves,
Wood violets, the little delicate pale blossoms called innocence,
Samples and sorts not for themselves alone, but for their atmosphere,
To tally, drench'd with them, tested by them,
Cities and artificial life, and all their sights and scenes, 30
My mind henceforth, and all its meditations--my recitatives,
My land, my age, my race, for once to serve in songs,
(Sprouts, tokens ever of death indeed the same as life,)
To grace the bush I love--to sing with the birds,
A warble for joy of Lilac-time.

poem by Walt Whitman
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Bright and Beautiful Sea

Bright and beautiful sea! I love thee well—
In sunshine, oh bear me away;
On thy bosom I'll ride, when the salt waves swell
'Neath the light of the moon's pale ray.
Still softly, oh! softly cradle my head,
And my sleep shall be sweet with thee,
For the planets keep watch o'er the dreamer's bed
On the bright and beautiful sea.
Earth is not thine, with her selfish decrees,
With her toils and her fading flow'rs;—
But the blue sky above—the sun—and the breeze,
And the bright and the laughing hours.
Bright and beautiful sea! Oh! let me glide,
Forgetting the sorrows of earth—
For glad is the music of thy sparkling tide,
Thou sea, in thy billowy mirth!
Bright and beautiful sea! I love thee well—
In sunshine, oh bear me away;
On thy bosom I'll ride, when the salt waves swell
'Neath the light of the moon's pale ray.

poem by Edward Henry Bickersteth
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Love Is As Beautiful

Love is as beautiful as a blooming flower
Love is as beautiful as a spring shower
Love is as beautiful as a tall oak tree
Love is as beautiful as the wild sea
Love is as beautiful as a bird in flight
Love is beautiful under God’s moonlight
Love is as beautiful as a star filled sky
Love is as beautiful as the clouds that drift by
Love is as beautiful as virgin sand
Love is two people hand in hand
Love is beautiful so I hope you see
I’m very glad love found you and me

11-25-05/RJH

poem by Ray Hansell
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Winter

Autumn leaves blow around
slowly Winter creeps on forward
bringing an icy chill to the air.
Frost in the morning carpets the fields
above the Blue skies change to Grey
darkness moves on in early.
As winds whistle a song in the trees
below Squirrels squabble with birds over food
Snowdrops pop their heads out of the earth.
This is Winter the cold season
the prelude to Spring
to some harsh and bleak
others very beautiful.

poem by Kevin Halls
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A Spring Song And A Later

She sang a song of May for me,
Wherein once more I heard
The mirth of my glad infancy--
The orchard's earliest bird--
The joyous breeze among the trees
New-clad in leaf and bloom,
And there the happy honey-bees
In dewy gleam and gloom.

So purely, sweetly on the sense
Of heart and spirit fell
Her song of Spring, its influence--
Still irresistible,--
Commands me here--with eyes ablur--
To mate her bright refrain.
Though I but shed a rhyme for her
As dim as Autumn rain.

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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