A Delightful Sight
Buttercup and celandine,
Thrust upwards through the soil.
Tempted by the warm sunshine,
To join the bright trefoil.
These flowers of spring beneath the feet,
Are glorious blooms to view.
Their gentle faces tilt up and greet,
The dawn of each day, new.
Under the trees they're shaded,
From the summer's burning heat.
In splendour they are paraded,
To make the meadows sweet.
So frail and delicate they seem
But their strength is hidden away.
A beautiful creation so supreme,
They hold you in their sway.
How these small plants lift spirits high,
They are a delightful sight.
A pleasure sent to charm the eye,
And such memories to invite.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Travel Flowers
When you travel ‘cross the country
You see along the roadways
Bright and cheerful flowers especially
In the warm spring and summer days
I love the beautiful sunflowers
Bold yellow blooms you see
Nodding in the gentle winds
Seem to say “hello” to me
White flowers ‘long side a trail
Roots go deep in red dirt
Stand out just beautifully
As they crop up in little spurts
Old barns off in the distance
In the midst of a field of dry grass
Are dotted with many flowers
Oh, I enjoy them when I pass
When spring time sets in and we have
Warm and gentle spring showers
I love to start my trips to see
Delightful travel flowers!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Wish [Dorinţa]
Come into the lovely forest
Where the spring flows with much ease
And the meadows, cut by furrows,
Are concealed by many trees.
And into my arms come running
On my chest fall and don't speak,
I shall seize your veil, my darling,
And I'll lift it from your cheek.
On my knees you'll sit in silence
We shall be alone and free,
On your hair will fall then slowly
Flowers from the linden tree.
Your blonde hair and your pale forehead
Do lay softly on my arm,
Giving to my mouth, with pleasure,
Your sweet lips so full of charm.
We shall dream some happy visions
And a song will hum with ease
All the springs, hidden and lonely,
And the gentle summer breeze.
The sweet harmony will lull us,
While the forest, full of love,
Will let fall on us small flowers
From the linden tree above.
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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This Pleasing Sight
The wild primrose, all its day,
Displays a sweet, sweet face,
This charmer when in full array,
Has such dignity and grace.
Seen beneath the shady hedge,
This gentle flower beams bright,
And with its friend the grassy sedge,
Reaches up to the sunshine's light.
So delicate in its loveliness,
It thrives on banks in spring,
How can this pleasing sight possess,
Such beauty so outstanding.
The wild primrose, all its day,
Shines out so fair and fine,
And as I glimpse it, on my way,
The pleasure is all mine.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Den o' Fowlis
Beautiful Den o' Fowlis, most charming to be seen
In the summer season, when your trees are green;
Especially in the bright and clear month of June,
When your flowere and shrubberies are in full bloom.
There visitors can enjoy themselves during the holidays,
And be shaded by the trees from the sun's rays,
And admire the beautiful primroses that grow there;
And inhale their sweet perfume that fills the air.
There the little children sport and play,
Blythe and gay during the live-long summer day,
In its beautiful green and cool shady bowers,
Chasing the bee and butterfly, and pulling the flowers.
There the Minnows loup and play;
In the little rivulet all the day;
Right in the hollow of that fairy-like Den,
Together in little shoals of nine or ten
And the Mavis and Blackbird merrily sing,
Making the Den with their notes to ring;
From high noon till sunset at night,
Filling the visitor's heart with delight.
Tis most lovely to see the trees arched overhead,
And the little rivulet rolling o'er its pebbly bed,
Ane near by is an old Meal Mill;
Likewise an old Church and Churchyard where the dead lie still.
The Den is always cool in the summer time,
Because it is so closely shaded from the sunshine,
By the spreading branches of the trees,
While the murmuring of the rivulet is heard on the night breeze.
It is a very magnificent spot the Den o' Fowlis,
And where oft the wintry wind it howls,
Among its bare end leafless withered trees,
And with fear wonld almost make one's heart to freeze.
To be walking through it on a dark wintry night,
Because the bare trees seem like spectres to your sight,
And everything around seems dark and drear,
And fills the timid mind with an undefinable fear.
But in the summer season it is most lovely to see;
With its fair flowers and romantic scenery,
Where the people can enjoy themselves all the day,
In the months of July, June, or May.
There the people can drink pure water when they are dry;
From the wells of spring water in the Den near by,
Which God has provided for his creatures in that lonely spot,
And such a blessing to the people shouldn't be forgot.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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My Garden Fair
Flowers are blooming in
my garden fair. Their
sweet perfume fills the
air. My Garden fair is
beautiful to see., with all
its glory surrounding me.
My garden fair is romantic
and bright, and so redeeming
in sunlight where song birds
nestle in the trees, and sing
with each flowing breeze.
My garden fair is a glorious
sight, that I rush to greet
at twilight my garden fair is
most supreme with such lovely
enchanting scenes.
poem by Dr. Janice Marie Murrell
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Warm Winds And Gentle Rains
The buds of spring are a beginning
for the green leaves of summer
and the sparkling colours
that will soon greet our eyes.
The warm winds and gentle rains
will remove the harshness of winter’s gloom
and help the birth of new flowers blooms.
We’ll leave behind the long darkness
as we wake to days of summer’s sun.
The feelings of goodness
will inherit the heart
and smiles will ring out
with the warmth of colours
that will greet our eyes.
25-26 February 2009
poem by David Harris
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A Drowsy Afternoon
Mellow meadows, shimmering in summers heat,
dipping down the valley,
rolling down the steep
hillside.
What a delightful and pleasurable treat,
to sit and ponder,
and wander,
your feet deep amongst the wild flowers,
where drones the sweet bees,
collecting nectar, an endless toil,
as they leap from bloom to bloom.
Then with collecting complete
return home,
bodies heavy but content.
And eyes sweep the distant scene,
through a haze of wheat.
A drowsy afternoon,
renewing memories to keep,
and maybe too,
some fresh memories to greet.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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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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It Is Such A Beautiful Evening
Than Spring it is far more like Summer a summery warmth in the breeze
And sunshine on the old Town and Parkland and sunshine on the bushes and trees
The greeness of Spring all around me such beauty that cannot fail to please
The weather quite warm for September well over the twenty degrees.
Though early Spring few birds are singing in the warm sun of the day
They sing in the cool of the morning or in the twilight's fading gray
The Winter is finally over though Winter weather was far from severe
We may be due for an el nino a warm Spring is looming this year.
The heaths and prickly bushes are covered in their blue, pink and bright yellow flowers
They came to bloom in the late Winter in the cool and invigorating showers
The pardalotes by their nest entrance in a tiny hole in the ground
Wee wren sized birds spotted and pretty where they live small insects abound.
It is such a beautiful evening the swallows they chirp as they fly
And the sun with the warmth of Summer is glowing brightly in the blue sky
And the first brown butterflies of September are flitting in the balmy air
Alone and contented with Nature such moments are precious and rare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Braving The British Weather
To brave the British weather, most birds don't have a choice,
But even in the worst weather, they raise such a spirited voice.
Cold and rainy weather can leave some of us feeling a little blue,
But, to me, it seems the little birds hold a different kind of view.
When, to us, the weather seems to go so very, horribly wrong,
The little birds continue to sing their sweet and happy song.
When a cloudless, blue sky still seems so very far from sight,
There is one song which will always ring out, so clear and bright.
When you find yourself walking along, upon rain-soaked ground,
From up in the trees, there will always come a heart-lifting sound.
A dull and dismal day can sometimes make us feel a little bit down:
Our hearts feel a little heavy, and our faces wear an unhappy frown.
Birdsong is a beautiful and pure, but powerful, Heaven-sent gift:
Upon hearing such a pleasant song, our hearts will begin to lift.
Even in wet weather, the little birds sing out with such pure joy:
Like the joy a child has, when hugging their favourite soft toy.
Even when we get wet through, our clothes will very soon dry,
So we should try to keep our chin up, and our spirits flying high.
Such joy is contained within the heart of a creature, so very small:
These tiny little birds really do set a shining example to us all.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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To The Baron De Humboldt,
ON HIS BRINGING ME SOME FLOWERS IN MARCH.
SOOTH'D I receive the flowers you bring,
Whose charm anticipates the Spring;
Whose tints in vernal freshness vie
With plants beneath an austral sky,--
Those glowing plants that, long unknown,
Your travell'd science made our own:--
Bright gift! in lavish grace array'd,
Thy flowers have only bloom'd to fade,--
Their transient being soon forgot:
How far unlike the giver's lot!
poem by Helen Maria Williams
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Delicately Spun
One clematis ascending a trellis,
trying to find somewhere to cling.
Hoping to acquire a strong and firm hold,
ready for the entering spring.
Its thin searching tendrils, stretching up high,
grow vigorously with such speed.
How suddenly this regal sight appeared,
from one insignificant seed.
With large blooms all so beautiful to view,
petals so delicately spun.
A perfect plant graces the garden wall,
floral faces raised to the sun.
Although seeming so frail, it grips so tight,
adhering to whatever’s near.
With great determination it ascends,
a bold natural mountaineer.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Spring's Accomplishments
Spring brings with it a warm, gentle breeze
Along with the trees sprouting their baby soft leaves
Gently tapping the ground are the soft showers
Bringing around soft, springtime flowers
Now here they come, the butterflies and the bees
Attracted to the gardens and newly awakened trees
The trees emanate such a calming scent of sap
And the birds nestle down for a peaceful nap
As Easter approaches, the sunshine gets stronger
And as spring continues, the days get longer
The spring goes into a deep slumber
And who takes over then? It's summer!
poem by Caroline Bulleck
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The Beautiful Azalea
The beautiful azalea is a woody shrub that never grows into a tree
But the pink flowers on the azalea are so beautiful to see
In the cool to warm days of October when Spring is in the air
And beautiful Mother Nature flowers on her green cloak wear,
How lovely the azalea in the cool shade of the trees
In her mass of pinkish flowers gently stirring in the breeze
Such a thing of natural beauty for to beautify the Spring
In the nice days of October when the nesting song birds sing,
In her tiny leaves of light green and her mass of bright pink flowers
The azalea she is blooming in the sunshine and Spring showers
But time it keeps on ticking and the years go quickly by
And how many more Octobers will i live for to enjoy?
The sight of the beautiful azalea in her pink flowers in the shade
A thing of such rare beauty by Nature only made.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Summers Love
Flowing breezes with gentle heat
Fragrant flowers scents so sweet
Blinding sunshine from up above
Spring romance now summer love
Bathers search for the perfect sun
As summer season has now begun
Golden bodies on the sandy beach
A summer love within their reach
The song of summer is on the air
As heartbeats join as one to share
With fiery lips they so gently kiss
Sharing a moment of loving bliss
As darkness falls upon the shore
Their feelings deepen ever more
With starlight falling from above
They lose each other in summer love.
“closing thought”
Share the love you have to give
And love the life you choose to live
poem by Gordon Jerome
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Azaleas In Spring
The azaleas in spring,
Are a beautiful thing.
Shades of purple, red and white,
Oh, what a glorious sight.
The azaleas in spring,
In the garden they're King.
Around tax time,
The colors - sublime.
The azaleas in spring,
Make my heart sing.
The joys of the soil,
Make up for the toil.
The azaleas year round,
You may have found,
Are such a great pleasure,
They're beyond any measure.
poem by J.B. LeBuert
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Tonic
Bright sunshine on a winter’s day
is caught and held by naked trees.
Where light and shadow interplay,
like memories which fade away.
As quickly passing years erase
the glory of our younger days.
In youthful years of innocence.
Bright sunshine on a winter’s day,
dispensed by kindly providence.
Softened the sombre shades of grey
with subtle hints and shades of gold
Our winter weary eyes behold.
As we grow up and make our way
from childhood to maturity.
Bright sunshine on a winter’s day
still offers us the surety.
That winter is not permanent
in course of time it must relent.
A fact that cannot be gainsaid.
Which tells us spring is on the way
a sign of better times ahead
Bright sunshine on a winter’s day
Can send the spirits soaring high
to meet the brightness in the sky.
poem by Ivor .e Hogg
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Sweet death
After spring there are many Jacaranda flowers
that lies purple at my feet,
while the trees shed
their beautiful blossoms.
Like the sweet blooms
that die,
I know that I
have but a short time
to spent in this life.
There’s a sweet perfume
that rises from the road
where the scattered flowers lie,
before it disappears
with the new rain
and I wonder if my words and deeds
will be a blessing for a time
when I am gone?
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Birth of Spring
The Birth of Spring
By: Adam M. Snow
A birth of Spring brings flowers bloom,
A beauty that reigns from nature's womb;
Bringing forth a new day of yore;
A beauty that reigns forevermore.
Heaving the life of nature to nature,
As the world within matures.
The flowers blooms ever so gracefully,
A Spring sunshine O' so blissfully.
The life of Spring so frail and gentle,
Like a rose or that of lentil.
It is evermore so sweet to wonder,
The scent of Spring would sunder.
And by the night, the stars glisten be,
Spring at it's glory, a song decrees.
A melody so sweet and peaceful to be heard;
The calming voice of nature's word,
That glistens the wind and flowers alike,
Flowing 'gainst the wind like a shrike.
She dance with a melody,
Like a wild felidae;
The petals of roses flows the wind.
I stand here in awe of nature's friend.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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Globe Of Parachutes
Dandelion seeds float upwards on the wind,
Climbing high and cruising lazily on.
Downy tufts of canopies so fine,
Each one gliding out of sight, and gone.
A cycle repeated every year the same,
Colonizing the ground with fresh new plants,
As we with a puff of breath, disturb the globe
Of parachutes, and so assist their dance.
Bright vibrant blooms in banks and meadows found.
Yellow spheres, illuminate eye and mind.
Such optimists who bravely shine their gold,
Across out land, a feast for all to find.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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