An English Breeze
UP with the sun, the breeze arose,
Across the talking corn she goes,
And smooth she rustles far and wide
Through all the voiceful countryside.
Through all the land her tale she tells;
She spins, she tosses, she compels
The kites, the clouds, the windmill sails
And all the trees in all the dales.
God calls us, and the day prepares
With nimble, gay and gracious airs:
And from Penzance to Maidenhead
The roads last night He watered.
God calls us from inglorious ease,
Forth and to travel with the breeze
While, swift and singing, smooth and strong
She gallops by the fields along.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Related quotes
An English Breeze
UP with the sun, the breeze arose,
Across the talking corn she goes,
And smooth she rustles far and wide
Through all the voiceful countryside.
Through all the land her tale she tells;
She spins, she tosses, she compels
The kites, the clouds, the windmill sails
And all the trees in all the dales.
God calls us, and the day prepares
With nimble, gay and gracious airs:
And from Penzance to Maidenhead
The roads last night He watered.
God calls us from inglorious ease,
Forth and to travel with the breeze
While, swift and singing, smooth and strong
She gallops by the fields along.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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The Light By The Barn
The light by the barn that shines all night
pales at dawn when a little breeze comes.
A little breeze comes breathing the fields
from their sleep and waking the slow windmill.
The slow windmill sings the long day
about anguish and loss to the chickens at work.
The little breeze follows the slow windmill
and the chickens at work till the sun goes down--
Then the light by the barn again.
poem by William Stafford
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Blanche
Breeze! brisk breeze! that movest with the morn!
Breeze! lithe breeze! that creepest through the corn!
Breeze! O breeze! that fannest the forlorn!
Oh linger by the lattice of sweet Blanche of mine!
Breeze! coy breeze! that loiterest for noon!
Breeze! true breeze! that hast a tryst with June!
Breeze! kind breeze! I beg of thee a boon!
Oh peep in through the lattice of poor Blanche of mine!
Breeze! fleet breeze! that goest with the day!
Breeze! dear breeze! that hastenest away!
Breeze! breeze! breeze! I beg of thee to stay,
And breathe upon the pillow of pale Blanche of mine!
Breeze! night-breeze! that wailest on the wold!
Breeze! lost breeze! that wanderest in the cold!
Breeze! dread breeze! oh flit not by the mould
Which shelters what is left me of lost Blanche of mine!
poem by Alfred Austin
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The Playful Breeze's Pleasant Acts
The playful Breeze touching me softly passes on;
Tells sweet tales in hush-hush voice in my ears;
Removes all my weariness with its healing hugs;
Calls me to close my eyes to sing my dear melodies;
Plucks all my stresses to toss away off its way;
To every tree it does have a story full of joy;
The peepul tree laughs heartily clapping its million palms;
The neem tree tosses up its bushy boughs bursting forth in glee;
Enjoys on the swings of sky-scrapping coconut trees;
Plants sweet kisses on the lips of all tiny blooms;
Dances merrily clasping the hands of tender creepers;
Carries on its back the blissful loads of colourful birds;
The green fields are in ecstatic thrills of swirling joys;
O the Nature is in absolute joyeverywhere today;
Hey folks! of your house-prisons do rush out all;
Let us do jolly jigs on riverside sands with the Breeze!
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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The Eagles
They come flying on high sapphire vaults, from far away,
Traveling by savage winds through dales and peaks, night and day
As I watch them in the skies enthralled under their spell
I love hearing the stories they to the morning breeze tell
They have seen places beyond my reach land
And they have found new vast far horizons of dwell
They speak strangely as they fly but I do not understand
Oh I wish I can fly like them and listen to their tale
Over steep mountains slops and pathless forests and raging seas
Shall I be like them; Shall I go anywhere that I please
Roll in the waves of wanton winds and chase the morning breeze
Toss the air; scud the high foliage of the trees in glee and tease
But watch as one clasps the sandy crag with crooked yellow hands
A statue close to the sun in lonely secluded lands
The canopy of the azure sky world over where he stands
As he spreads his wing wide across the rock a majesty in grand
The wrinkled spring meadow beneath him crawls
He watches and stalks from the lofty mountains walls
As like a thunderbolt into the air he folds and falls
Swift and sharp in the air, shrieking like a canon ball
Magdalen Walks
THE little white clouds are racing over the sky,
And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower of March,
The daffodil breaks under foot, and the tasselled larch
Sways and swings as the thrush goes hurrying by.
A delicate odour is borne on the wings of the morning breeze,
The odour of leaves, and of grass, and of newly up-turned earth,
The birds are singing for joy of the Spring's glad birth,
Hopping from branch to branch on the rocking trees.
And all the woods are alive with the murmur and sound of Spring,
And the rosebud breaks into pink on the climbing briar,
And the crocus-bed is a quivering moon of fire
Girdled round with the belt of an amethyst ring.
And the plane to the pine-tree is whispering some tale of love
Till it rustles with laughter and tosses its mantle of green,
And the gloom of the wych-elm's hollow is lit with the iris sheen
Of the burnished rainbow throat and the silver breast of a dove.
See! the lark starts up from his bed in the meadow there,
Breaking the gossamer threads and the nets of dew,
And flashing a-down the river, a flame of blue!
The kingfisher flies like an arrow, and wounds the air.
poem by Oscar Wilde
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Cribbing Dream
when the night always at the height of my
temper, the cool breeze of the shore
hammock my swollen tears
when my days shower its teardrops
falling to the ground, the refreshing smile
of the clouds gallops myself, bringing me
to the calmness of the night
when my lonely memories hold me to
walk beyond the horizon of the meadow, I
kept mesmerizing those funny moment
that I was once lived like a prince in the
crib
when I am at the helm of no where to go
and prostration behold my emotion to
conquer every smile in my heart, I just
smell the best perfume in my pillow,
believing that smooth sleep could ease my
aspiration for a better day to wake
now the sun is near to peep, in the
murmuring clouds of yesterday, there I
find my wife watching my head in her arm
that never fades, like cotton swinging in
the season of free, in the spring waiting to
be gray
raise my dear spirit, the sleep has come to
wake in a dream you seat like me, in your
loving arm only a dearest wife will come
and let you see
solemnly quest that dream dear …….
poem by Antonio Liao
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Between The Devil And Me
This world can take you by the hand
And tempt the soul of any man
But you can choose your path
There's two roads you can take
One way is right and one way is wrong
The flesh is weak, but love is strong
And she's all I see between the devil and me
The gates of hell swing open wide invitin' me to step inside
I'll be your friend, he calls again, I know it's him
The flames are spreadin' everywhere
But through the smoke I see her there
She's all I see between the devil and me
I hold her in my arms tonight
So safe and warm I close my eyes
And a cool breeze blows 'cross our bodies in the dark
Outside her reach is my concern
Somewhere I know a fire burns
And she's all I see between the devil and me
The gates of hell swing open wide invitin' me to step inside
I'll be your friend, he calls again, I know it's him
The flames are spreadin' everywhere
But through the smoke I see her there
She's all I see between the devil and me
The gates of hell swing open wide
Invitin' me to step inside
She's all I see between the devil and me
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All My Roads
Looking back from where I stand tonight
I wouldnt change a thing about my life
Wrong turns I had to take back in those crazy years
Could not have been mistakes if they brought me here
cause all my roads have led me to
This night, this love I share with you
And though the road was never smooth
Life has made me someone who
Could be the right someone for you
I dont regret a single broken heart
That taught me what love is and what its not
Someone must have planned our two paths would cross
I couldnt see it then but I was never lost
cause all my roads have led me to
This night, this love I share with you
And though the road was never smooth
Life has made me someone who
Could be the right someone for you
Detours, dead ends, endless explorations
You were my only destination
cause all my roads have led me to
This night, this love I share with you
And though the road was never smooth
Life has made me someone who
Could be the right someone for you
song performed by by Collin Raye
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Its Sleepy Time Down South
Leon ren / otis ren / clarence muse
Homesick, tired, all alone in a big city
Why should eveybody pity me?
Nighttime falling, and Im yearning for virginia
Hospitality within ya calls me
Pale moon shining on the fields below
Folks are crooning songs soft and low
Need not tell me so,
Because I know its sleepy time down south
Softs winds blowing thru the pinewood trees
Folks down there live a life of ease
When the twilight brings the evening breeze
Its sleepy time down south
Steamboats on the river, a coming, a going
Splashing the night away
Hear those banjos ringing,
The folks are all singing
They dance till break of day
Dear old southland with its dreamy songs
Takes back there where I belong
Ill find heaven in my mothers arms
When its sleepy time down south
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Between The Devil & Me
(harley allen/carson chamberlin)
This world can take you by the hand
And tempt the soul of any man
But you can choose your path
Theres two roads you can take
One way is right and one is wrong
The flesh is weak but love is strong
And shes all I see
Vetween the devil and me
The gates of hell swing open
Wide invitin me to stop inside
Ill be your friend he calls
Again, I know its him
The flames are spreadin everywhere
But through the smoke
I see her there
Shes all I see
Between the devil and me
I hold her in my arms tonight
So safe and warm I close my eyes
And a cool breeze blows
cross our bodies in the dark
Outside her reach is my concern
Somewhere I know a fire burns
And shes all I see
Between the devil and me
The gates of hell swing open
Wide invitin me to stop inside
Ill be your friend he calls
Again, I know its him
The flames are spreadin everywhere
But through the smoke
I see her there
Shes all I see
Between the devil and me
The gates of hell swing open
Wide invitin me to step inside
Shes all I see
Between the devil and me
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A tale of summer
Swallows catch insects on the wing
In the early morning sun,
And a cuckoo calls to tell us
That the summer has now begun.
The flowering meadow comes alive
With butterflies and the sound of bees,
Cherry blossom showers down like confetti
Carried on the summer breeze.
Swift and house martins arrive back from afar
Making a welcome sight,
And a nightingale sings on a summer evening
And on into the night.
The sweet smell of honeysuckle
Fills the evening air,
While fox cubs play on the edge of a coppice
The beauty of summer is everywhere.
A skylark sings high above
Fields of barley corn and wheat,
While on the lake swans with thier cygnets
Make the summer complete.
poem by Gordon Butchers
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The Island Of Endless Play
Said Willie to Tom 'Let us hie away
To the wonderful Island of Endless Play.
It lies off the border of 'No School Land'
And abounds with pleasures, I understand.
There boys go swimming whenever they please
In a lovely river right under the trees.
And marbles are free, no one has to buy;
And kites of all sizes are ready to fly.
We sail down the Isthmus of Idle Delight,
We sail and we sail for a day and a night.
And then if favored by billows and breeze
We land in the harbor of Do-as-you-please.
And their lies the Island of Endless Play
With no one to say to us Must or Nay.
Books are not known in that land so fair,
Teachers are stoned if they set foot there.
Hurrah for the Island so glad and free,
That is the country for you and me.'
So away went Willie and Tom together
On a pleasure boat, in the lazy weather,
And they sailed in the teeth of a friendly breeze
Right into the harbor of 'Do-as-you-please!'
Where boats and tackle and marbles and kites
Were waiting them there in this Land of Delights.
They dwelt on the Island of Endless Play
For five long years; then one sad day
A strange dark ship sailed up to the strand,
And 'Ho! for the voyage to Stupid Land.'
The Captain cried with a terrible noise
As he seized the frightened and struggling boys,
And threw them into the dark Ship's hold,
And off and away sailed the Captain bold.
They vainly begged him to let them out,
He answered only with scoff and shout.
'Boys that don't study or work,' said he,
'Must sail one day down the Ignorant Sea
To Stupid Land by the No-Book strait,
With Captain Time on the Pitiless Fate.'
Then he let out the sails and away went the three,
Over the waters of Ignorant Sea.
Out and away to Stupid Land,
And they live there yet, I understand.
And there's where every one goes, they say,
Who seeks the Island of Endless Play.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Appreciative Audience.
Soft moonlight filters through the trees
Which seem to dance to melodies
Created by the gentle breeze.
The shadows on the ground dance too
Or to my eyes they appear to
Disintegrate then form anew.
Sometimes the clouds blot out the light
The shadows gain a brief respite.
Rejoin the darkness of the night.
But clouds move on and when they do
And once again moonlight shows through.
The trees will dance, the shadows too.
The sun will rise to start the day.
The dancing shadows hide away
But where they hide no man can say.
The sun completes his daily quest.
Journeying from east to west.
Then sinks below the sea to rest.
The moon will rise she rules the night
Then once again to my delight
She bathes the trees in silver light.
The melodies played by the breeze
Will re awake the sleeping trees.
To dance again with practiced ease.
Beneath the trees reluctantly
the shadows still dance gracefully.
I watch in silence gratefully.
I know they do not dance for me
And I am privileged to see
The shadows dance under the trees.
Friday,23 September 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Gentle Sigh
There is a gentle sigh
as a warm summer evening calls
and lovers slip away
to their hideaways.
The stars twinkle bright
playing peek-a-boo with the moon
and not a stirring word is heard,
except the gentle sigh
that inherits the breeze
that faintly rustles the leaves
on a warm summer evening
just before darkness calls.
The world sings a hushaby melody
to children tucked in their bed
waiting for the sandman to call
and for a few minutes,
everything is still
listening to the gentle sigh
when warm summer evenings call.
poem by David Harris
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A Music Concert at the Suruli Hills!
‘ p..e..n..n..y..c..u..i..c..k',
sing the cuckoos from the trees
and the mellow music swells,
the Suruli dell and paddy fields.
The falls from the nearby knolls
chimes: 'p..e..n..n..y..c..u..i..c..k',
and dribbles over the breeze to cool
and makes it whistles the tune of
‘p..e..n..n..y..c..u..i..c..k'.
The rills through which water flows
down the hills from the Dam,
fills the dales with red soil
and tells the Tamils who till the lands
to recall their Lord Col. Pennycuick
who sold his own estates in Eng-lish land
and buil tthe strong Mullai Periyar Dam
across the western ghats
to slake the thirst of the Tamils
and their land where the minstrels are born.
The thankful ancient race
collect around the statue of their Lord,
cook sweet rice, ring out a peal of bells
and yell out, 'Pongalo Pongal'
and the name of Pennycuick.
on this day, his birth day
and their New Year Day,
the fifteenth January
and feed all with rice and sugarcane
and their bulls too which jingle
the chain of bells tied around their necks.
- 15.01.2012.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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The Magic of the Breeze – 32 I used to travel by train
I used to travel by train
Previously too – The travel
At night, the distant lights
The stars in sky, hopeful dreams
The sound of thundering wheels
Singing a song to the rhythm
Of the beat of the heart of steel
The rush of the wind
Standing by the door
I used to think what means all this
The fury and sound, the very travel
The people I used to meet or travel with
No one has been able to erase the sadness
Or ease the pain I feel when traveling
I used to feel all alone by the door
And life speeding by towards the end.
I have enjoyed my travel too
In groups with friends now far apart
I remember days gone by never to come
But, however long the distance
I used to stand at least half the time.
With you I now sit and enjoy
It is no longer a pain
Before travel was business
Travel was necessary and unavoidable
It was an escape sometimes
Just the act of traveling – running away
But, I always had to come back
And face life alone, just alone.
Now, you have shown me
The other side of travel by train
The train is still the train
The people, crowd all are the same
But yet not the very same,
You and I, no one else I see
Time, with it all people, the crowd
Are frozen in time and none exists
Other than just the two of us
I myself am in a dream till the end
Drinking the air and feeling
The breeze and you fill each cell
I no longer think, I only wait
To feel the brush of your touch
And the kiss of the breeze!
poem by Angelina Pandian
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A September Night In The Countryside
Out there in the quiet countryside in the still of the night
The unmistakeable cry of a hunting fox in the moonlight
And perhaps at the threat of a predator to their ground nest nearby
The wary spur wing plovers are calling as they fly
Like the fox the predatory night birds have young to feed this time of year
And the loud screech of a barn owl not a pleasant sound to hear
And to the boobook calls of mopoke on the nearby trees
The brooding small bird in her nest does listen with a sense of unease
On the quiet rural roadway few cars pass up and down
On a September night in the countryside miles from the nearest town
And the calls of the male ringtail possum one never could mistake
He will be back in his leafy nest before sunrise at daybreak
The predatory birds and animals who hide from the lamp of day
In the still of a September night are out hunting for prey.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Christ-child Day in Australia
A COPPER concave of a sky
Hangs high above my head.
Vague thunder sullenly goes by
With dragging, muffled tread.
The hot air faints upon the grass,
And at its bitter breath,
Ten thousand trembling flower-souls pass,
With fragrant sighs, to death.
There comes no breeze. No breeze has sprung
And sweetly blown for days.
Dead air in silent sheets has hung,
Smooth wavering sheets of haze.
The very birds that erstwhile soared
Hide hushed in haunts of trees.
Nature no longer walks abroad,
But crouches on her knees.
Crouches and hides her withered face,
Above her barren breast,
And I forget her yester grace
And the clustering mouths she blessed.
’Tis in no alien land I sit,
Almost it is mine own.
Its fibres to my fibres knit,
Its bone into my bone.
These are no alien skies I know,
Yet something in my blood
Calls sharp for breath of ice and snow
Across the wide, salt flood.
Calls loud and will not be denied,
Cries, with imperious tears,
And mem’ries that have never died
Leap wildly o’er the years:
The thrill of England’s winter days,
Of England’s frost-sharp air,
The ice along her waterways,
Her snowfields stretching fair,
Her snowfields gleaming through the dark,
Her bird with breast aglow,
On the white land a crimson mark,
—Ah England, England’s snow!
Fair as a queen, this far south land,
A wayward bride, half won,
Her dowry careless flung like sand,
Her royal flax unspun.
And if beneath her ardent glance
Her subjects faint and reel,
Does she but melt, stoop to entrance,
They kiss her hem and kneel.
And I—I kneel. For oft her hand
Has gently touched my hair.
Then with a throb I rise and stand,
—A Queen!—why should she spare!
Yet when the Christ-Child mem’ries steal,
Some ebb-tide swells to flood.
Ah, England—just once more to feel
Thy winter in my blood
poem by Ethel Turner
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A Night In A Coastal Village
The lights on, the church bells rung
The namaz over and evening prayers sung.
The day was over, the market bustled for a while
The kites and baloons took the kids for an exile.
There, the deep blue sea turned black,
The hot sun removed its arm back,
The dazzling moon took charge of the night,
From the great roof the stars emerged bright.
The foam rushing ashore glittered as pearls.
The great night falls heralded with singing birds.
There the waves became a bit fiercy,
Telling the tales of other shores with a breeze so icy.
The tall green trees turned dark with the night,
dancing with the invisible breeze in the moon light.
happy content people celebrated the day's retirement
and also gathered for a joyful entertainment.
In the backdropp of melifluous singing and wave's rythm
everything seemed to enjoy in that night's kingdom.
Slowly and slowly the little town was soothed to sleep.
A slight drizzle began wishing them sweet dreams.
poem by Abinaya Saravanan
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