The Poetry Of Shakespeare
Picture some Isle smiling green 'mid the white-foaming ocean; -
Full of old woods, leafy wisdoms, and frolicsome fays;
Passions and pageants; sweet love singing bird-like above it;
Life in all shapes, aims, and fates, is there warm'd by one great
human heart.
poem by George Meredith
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Poetry
THE POETRY OF CHAUCER
Grey with all honours of age! but fresh-featured and ruddy
As dawn when the drowsy farm-yard has thrice heard Chaunticlere.
Tender to tearfulness-childlike, and manly, and motherly;
Here beats true English blood richest joyance on sweet English ground.
THE POETRY OF SPENSER
Lakes where the sunsheen is mystic with splendour and softness;
Vales where sweet life is all Summer with golden romance:
Forests that glimmer with twilight round revel-bright palaces;
Here in our May-blood we wander, careering 'mongst ladies and knights.
THE POETRY OF SHAKESPEARE
Picture some Isle smiling green 'mid the white-foaming ocean; -
Full of old woods, leafy wisdoms, and frolicsome fays;
Passions and pageants; sweet love singing bird-like above it;
Life in all shapes, aims, and fates, is there warm'd by one great human heart.
THE POETRY OF MILTON
Like to some deep-chested organ whose grand inspiration,
Serenely majestic in utterance, lofty and calm,
Interprets to mortals with melody great as its burthen
The mystical harmonies chiming for ever throughout the bright spheres.
THE POETRY OF SOUTHEY
Keen as an eagle whose flight towards the dim empyrean
Fearless of toil or fatigue ever royally wends!
Vast in the cloud-coloured robes of the balm-breathing Orient
Lo! the grand Epic advances, unfolding the humanest truth.
THE POETRY OF COLERIDGE
A brook glancing under green leaves, self-delighting, exulting,
And full of a gurgling melody ever renewed -
Renewed thro' all changes of Heaven, unceasing in sunlight,
Unceasing in moonlight, but hushed in the beams of the holier orb.
THE POETRY OF SHELLEY
See'st thou a Skylark whose glistening winglets ascending
Quiver like pulses beneath the melodious dawn?
Deep in the heart-yearning distance of heaven it flutters -
Wisdom and beauty and love are the treasures it brings down at eve.
THE POETRY OF WORDSWORTH
A breath of the mountains, fresh born in the regions majestic,
That look with their eye-daring summits deep into the sky.
The voice of great Nature; sublime with her lofty conceptions,
Yet earnest and simple as any sweet child of the green lowly vale.
THE POETRY OF KEATS
The song of a nightingale sent thro' a slumbrous valley,
Low-lidded with twilight, and tranced with the dolorous sound,
Tranced with a tender enchantment; the yearning of passion
That wins immortality even while panting delirious with death.
poem by George Meredith
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Green Bird, Golden Bird.
A tired green bird flew a very long journey,
Came to a stop in a beautiful valley.
There were many birds of all colours singing and playing,
Among them he saw a beautiful golden bird,
Her feathers shining in the bright sunshine,
And her voice echoed melodiously.
Within a short time the green and golden birds were close friends,
They knew each other deeply by heart,
Passing the days, flying from valley to valley,
And resting from tree to tree.
Then one sad day, golden bird must return,
She too had flown from across the vast ocean,
Even though it broke the green bird's heart,
But he was willing to let go, and before she left, .. he asked;
Golden bird, have I full-filled my promises to you?
That I would never hurt you,
That I would protect you with my life,
That I would share my provisions with you,
That I would make you happy and smiling always!
Is there any single word to describe all these?
Golden bird,
I will pray for your lasting happiness,
I will never forget your overflowing kindness,
You have nested permanently in my heart…and lastly,
I dream for us to be able to fly together again,
in unimaginable beautiful green heaven!
poem by Desert Life
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Smiling
(bill luther, aimee mayo, chris lindsey, marv green)
The cover of a magazine, nothing but a paper dream
Just another fantasy for sale
Telling me what I need, what I should do, who I should be
That stuff dont matter to me at all
The sky is blue and the sun is shining
I feel like a bum with a pocket full of diamonds
Im free as a bird and my spirits flying
Thats enough to keep me smiling
Guru man on my tv set, selling the secrets to happiness
1-800-change-your-life-today
Dreams, Ive got my own; I aint looking for a yellow-brick-road
Im just gonna go my own way
The sky is blue and the sun is shining
I feel like a bum with a pocket full of diamonds
Im free as a bird and my spirits flying
Thats enough to keep me smiling
Smiling (smiling), smiling (smiling)
The sky is blue and the sun is shining
I feel like a bum with a pocket full of diamonds
Im free as a bird and my spirits flying
Thats enough to keep me smiling
Im still smiling, gotta keep on smiling
Im still smiling
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Could You Picture Life?
Could you picture life?
Could you picture life?
Misty morning with birds singing melodies,
Could you picture life in the clouds,
The Morning star,
The comets,
The ufos,
The foolishness in racism,
Could you see CNN,
The crimes and the bursting that we play everyday,
The religious crimes,
Could you picture the negation in man?
That we die everyday is sin,
Could you picture?
Love is worth the New World Understanding,
Picture my eyes and see that we all be crying,
My brothers and sisters are dyeing and suffocating,
Picture the New World,
Where the True Understanding will dwell in our heart,
Could you picture?
You and I are no different,
We same creatures that creep for Bread,
Could you picture?
No man better than other,
Could you picture?
The credibility of Human Trust.
poem by Maxpoet Beauty
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The Green Woods Of Truagh
In the green woods of Truagh we met without fear,
Your kiss on my lips, and your voice in my ear,
Your tender arms about me, and your eyes glad and clear–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!
In the green woods of Truagh the days go on wings,
On every brown branch a gladsome bird sings
And the fragrant amber blossom of the honey-suckle swings–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!
In the green woods of Truagh the bracken stands high,
And wells of spring-water in deep hollows lie,
And the red deer is browsing in the cool shadows nigh–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!
In the green woods of Truagh no sorrow dared stay,
The lark called me early at dawn o' the day,
And o'er my sleep at night pleasant dreams used to play–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!
In the green woods of Truagh you wait till I come–
I left home and you for the stranger's far home,
To bring a hoard of yellow gold across the grey foam–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!
In the green woods of Truagh–if God hears my prayer–
I shall reach you, O true love, my empty hands there,
For little of the yellow gold has fallen to my share–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!
In the green woods of Truagh–your heart on my own,
And your bright hair in ringlets across my cheek blown
Now where in all the wide, wide world, could greater bliss be known?
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!
poem by Anna Johnston MacManus
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Smilin'
The cover of a magazine, nothing but a paper dream
Just another fantasy for sale
Telling me what I need, what I should do, who I should be
That stuff don't matter to me at all
The sky is blue and the sun is shining
I feel like a bum with a pocket full of diamonds
I'm free as a bird and my spirit's flying
That's enough to keep me smiling
Guru man on my TV set, selling the secrets to happiness
1-800-Change-Your-Life-Today
Dreams, I've got my own; I ain't looking for a yellow-brick-road
I'm just gonna go my own way
The sky is blue and the sun is shining
I feel like a bum with a pocket full of diamonds
I'm free as a bird and my spirit's flying
That's enough to keep me smiling
Smiling (smiling), smiling (smiling)
The sky is blue and the sun is shining
I feel like a bum with a pocket full of diamonds
I'm free as a bird and my spirit's flying
That's enough to keep me smiling
I'm still smiling, gotta keep on smiling
I'm still smiling
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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May Song
BIRDS in the green of my garden
Blackbirds and throstle and wren,
Wet your dear wings in the tears that are Spring's
And so to your singing again!
Birds in my blossoming orchard,
Chaffinch and goldfinch and lark,
Preen your bright wings, little happy live things;
The May trees grow white in the park!
Birds in the leafy wet woodlands,
Cuckoo and nightingale brown,
Sing to the sound of the rain on green ground--
The rain on green leaves dripping down!
Fresh with the rain of the May-time,
Rich with the promise of June,
Deep in her heart, where the little leaves part,
Love, like a bird, sings in tune!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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I Left Apart
Over that fresh green grass
A sweet face did say to me with hush
O me handsome lad, will ye go apart
From the dear green land of Ireland
Though I promised not to
But fortune decided to
For me to break the vow
And from the dear ol' isle I did part
And on that ship I went over
For fortune to dig with me shovel
Leaving all that sweet green
And dreaming of money's stream
Behind the ocean so wide
Putting a shamrock by me side
To somewhere I don't have to hide
And the ship from the dear isle did part
Limerick, Corcaigh and Donegal
Connemara, Tara and the all
Oh how I miss Belfast and Derry
And don't forget the shores of Kerry
Dreams come and go
With a memories' flow
Until appeared the first glow
Of the land after I left the dear isle apart
Money and fame I did have
And for lassies didn't give a laugh
For me heart never chose
But the lass in the blues
Now years passed me by
And I'm getting even so high
No one can deny
After I left the dear Ol' isle apart
After all this and that to the dear I did come
So blissing the air I did breathe with no gloom
But then into a cemetery I did get
And on an engraved stone I did read
'O ye passer by,
sit a little and cry
say your pray, then a goodbye
to the dear ol' isle that ye left apart'
poem by Taher Shemaly
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A Father's Innocence: the Princess Child
my soul who chooses
to live in solitude
has always cried in the winter cold -
seeking for your silky skin
to warm the snowy wave of air
that forms the morning dew.
in the green fields
beneath the mountain tops, my gaze
plays with the horizon between the lonely sky
and the grassy land i patiently till,
as tears fill up my emptiness
because it seeks for your heart.
my soul who chooses
to live in solitude
has always cried in the winter cold
like the soft white feathers from the heavens
that fall in the leafy woods,
lost, wandering -
deprived of the songs by the lake.
between the pristine sky
and the mountains of forests,
or the castle of our love
my heart shall seek for you
in vain, in infinity,
within the sweetness of innocence.
hear my heart from afar,
oh sweet songs of boundaries;
hear my heart from afar,
oh white doves of destiny;
for in the comforts of her embrace,
to her i shall rest, and for her i shall rest.
poem by Jaypee Belarmino
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The Season
And must I wear a silken life,
Hemmed in by city walls?
And must I give my garden up
For theatres and balls?
Nay, though the cage be made of gold,
'Tis better to be free;
The green of the green meadows, love,
Is quite enough for me.
I'd rather ramble through the lanes
Than drive about in town;
I'd rather muse or dream than dance,
When the stars are shining down.
I do not care for diamonds, dear,
But I care a deal for flowers;
And thousands are just creeping out
For the sunshine and the showers.
I like to hear the Household band,
But I love the bird-songs best;
And hark! how they are twittering now
Round each half-hidden nest!
The wind is whispering in the leaves,
And the downy bees begin
To hum in the blossoming sycamores,
And the brook is chiming in.
There is such melody in the woods,
Such music in the air!
The streets are full of life and sound,
And yet 'tis silent there.
I like to see the pictures—ay,
But I am hard to please!
I never saw a picture yet
As great and grand as these;
Such tones of colour as transform
The tender green and brown,
When the pink dawn is flushing up,
Or the red sun sinking down;
Such painting as the chestnut bud
Shows in its opening heart;
Such lights as shine 'twixt earth and sky
When rain-clouds break apart;
Such soft, warm, subtle tints, as lie
In every mossy patch—
On the blue-brown trunks, now filled with life,
And the humble roof of thatch,—
In the purple hollows of the hills,
In the lichen on the wall,
In the orchard and the feathery woods,
And the sun-lit waterfall.
I like my humble country ways,
My simple, early meals;
I like to potter about the yard,
With my chickens at my heels.
I'd rather climb this brambly steep,
Where freshest sea-winds blow,
With my old straw hat hanging down my back.
Than canter along the Row.
To me (it's vulgar, dear, I know)
No fête half so gay
As a cricket-match on the village green,
Or a picnic in the hay.
Ah, yes! I'm happier as I am,—
I'm ignorant, you see;
And the life of fashion that you love
Would never do for me.
poem by Ada Cambridge
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The Fates
The Lady`s Three, The Fates
Daughters of fair Goddess Night
Three aspects of the moon in flight
The Moerae, phases of thy lunar dates
First by name is Clotho
'Spinner of the Thread of Life'
Maiden fate of waxing light
Lissom love not doleful
The second Fate by name, Lachesis
'The measurer of Life`s Thread Length'
The burnished white, in full moon`s strength
Nymph fate of sanguine blood is
The third Fate by name, Atropos
'The cutter of The Thread'
The crone Fate of the dead
The waning moon, sends Banshee`s of apropos
Zeus`s folly claim, of siring these Fates three
And command of thy delegations
His mendacity, met him relegation
For even he, couldst not flee, The Fates that be
Oh! Parthenogenous Daughters
Of great Lady Necessity
The Strong Fate o`er land, sky and sea
I`ll await, The White Robed Fates, when my time abates
poem by Steve Trimmer
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Tired
O For wings! that I might soar
A little way above the floor,
A little way beyond the roar—
A little nearer to the sky!
To the blue hills, lifted high
Out of all our misery.
Where alone is heard the lark,
Warbling in the infinite arc
From the dawning to the dark;
Where the callow eaglets wink
On the bare and breezy brink,
And slow pinions rise and sink.
Where the dim white breakers beat
Under cloud-drifts at our feet,
Singing, singing, low and sweet;
Where we see the glimmering bay
Greyly melting far away,
On the confines of the day;
Where the green larch-fringes sweep
Rocky defiles, still and steep;
Where the tender lichens creep;
Where the gentian-blossoms blow,
Set in crystal stars of snow;
Where the downward torrents flow
To the plains and yellow leas,
Glancing, twinkling through the trees—
Pure, as from celestial seas.
Where the face of heaven has smiled
Aye on freedom, sweet and wild,
Aye on beauty undefiled.
Where no sound of human speech,
And no human passions, reach;
Where the angels sit and teach.
Where no troublous foot has trod;
Where is impressed on the sod
Only hand and heart of God!
poem by Ada Cambridge
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The Dinkey Bird
In an ocean, 'way out yonder,
(As all sapient people know)
Is the land of Wonder-Wander,
Whither children love to go;
It's their playing, romping, swinging,
That give great joy to me
While the Dinkey-Bird goes singing
In the amfalula tree!
There the gum-drops grow like cherries,
And taffy's thick as peas--
Caramels you pick like berries
When, and where, and how you please;
Big red sugar-plums are clinging
To the cliffs beside that sea
Where the Dinkey-Bird is singing
In the amfalula tree!
So when children shout and scamper
And make merry all the day,
When there's naught to put a damper
To the ardor of their play;
When I hear their laughter ringing,
Then I'm sure as sure can be
That the Dinkey-Bird is singing
In the amfalula tree!
For the Dinkey-Bird's bravuras
And staccatos are so sweet--
His roulades, appoggiaturas,
And robustos so complete,
That the youth of every nation--
Be they near or far away--
Have especial delectation
In that gladsome roundelay.
Their eyes grow bright and brighter,
Their lungs begin to crow,
Their hearts get light and lighter,
And their cheeks are all aglow;
For an echo cometh bringing
The news to all and me,
That the Dinkey-Bird is singing
In the amfalula tree.
I'm sure you like to go there
To see your feathered friend--
And so many goodies grow there
You would like to comprehend!
Speed, little dreams, your winging
To that land across the sea
Where the Dinkey-Bird is singing
In the amfalula tree!
poem by Eugene Field
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Surprise, Surprise
Sweet as the smell of success
Her body's warm and wet
She gets me through this god awful lonliness
A natural high butterfly oh i,
I need, need, need her
Just like a willow tree
A breath of spring you see
And oh boy you don't know what she do to me
She makes me sweat and forget who i am
I need, need, need, need her
Well i was wondering how long this could go on, on and on
Well i thought i could never be surprised
But could it be that i bit my own tongue
Oh yeah, it's so hard to swallow when you're wrong
A bird of paradise
The sunrise in her eyes
God only knows such a sweet surprise
I was blind she blew my mind think that i
I love, love, love, love, love her
I love her, i love her, i love her, i love her
Sweet sweet, sweet sweet love
Sweet sweet, sweet sweet love
Sweet sweet, sweet sweet love
Sweet sweet, sweet sweet love
Sweet sweet, sweet sweet love
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Anne: Oh, Say Not, Sweet Anne
Oh, say not, sweet Anne, that the Fates have decreed
The heart which adores you should wish to dissever;
Such Fates were to me most unkind ones indeed,
To bear me from love and from beauty for ever.
Your frowns, lovely girl, are the Fates which alone
Could bid me from fond admiration refrain;
By these, every hope, every wish were o'erthrown,
Till smiles should restore me to rapture again.
As the ivy and oak, in the forest entwined,
The rage of the tempest united must weather;
My love and my life were by nature design'd
To flourish alike, or to perish together.
Then say not, sweet Anne, that the Fates have decreed
Your lover should bid you a lasting adieu;
Till Fate can ordain that his bosom shall bleed,
His soul, his existence, are centred in you.
A Bird and flower upon the tree
A bird and flower upon the tree,
Sweet peony and oriole,
Each of them a perfect soul,
Song and sweetness manifest
The bird and flower we love the best
Side by side on the tall tree.
'Flower who art sunlight and fire, flower who art perfume and joy,
Sweetest of sweet,
Ah for the gift withheld!
Ah for the given gift's alloy!
Why must thy spirit exhale only in beauty and breath?
Ah for the voice thou hast not! I by thy side on the tree,
Telling the world of love, pain, and all raptures that be,
Raptures of laughter and life, raptures of tears and death,
Singing my heart to heaven, singing to earth at my feet;
Silence in thee.'
'Bird who art dew-drops and flame, bird who art rapture and song,
Sweetest of sweet,
Lo there's a voice part mine, songs that to me too belong,
Songs that grew of my growth, voice that has breathed my breath.
Bird that while I sit mute singest beside on the tree,
Hast thou ever a song taking no perfume of me?
Give forth my sweetness in song; bird, thou art singing for both,
Singing our hearts to heaven, singing to earth at our feet;
My voice in thee.'
On the tree-top side by side,
Sweet oriole and peony;
Music rings through earth and sky,
Sweet and sweet in sweetness lost
The flower and bird we love the most,
On the tree-top side by side.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Merlin's Isle
O, I went down to Merlin's Isle,
And when that I had found it,
I kneeled me down a little while
And praised the peace that bound it.
There were no seas around it,
But the full tide of turf in flood
To the rim of the berried hawthorn wood,
And a dew-pond where the dear stars stood
Too deep for me to sound it.
O, I went down to Merlin's Isle
And there I soon did learn-a,
The winds they did implore me,
How sweet two beech-brown eyes may smile
Among the maiden fern-a.
My poor heart took a turn-a.
In a warm wind the whitebeam foam
Ran quick along the silvering loam,
And I was young and far from home,
As you may well discern-a
O, I went home from Merlin's Isle,
My dear was there before me.
In the moonshine by the shepherd's stile
A kind of grief came o'er me.
The winds they did implore me,
'And come,' they said, but I said 'Nay,
For the honey star hath closed the day,
And love that borrowed my soul away,
Sweet love shall now restore me.'
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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The Great Fires
Love is apart from all things.
Desire and excitement are nothing beside it.
It is not the body that finds love.
What leads us there is the body.
What is not love provokes it.
What is not love quenches it.
Love lays hold of everything we know.
The passions which are called love
also change everything to a newness
at first. Passion is clearly the path
but does not bring us to love.
It opens the castle of our spirit
so that we might find the love which is
a mystery hidden there.
Love is one of many great fires.
Passion is a fire made of many woods,
each of which gives off its special odor
so we can know the many kinds
that are not love. Passion is the paper
and twigs that kindle the flames
but cannot sustain them. Desire perishes
because it tries to be love.
Love is eaten away by appetite.
Love does not last, but it is different
from the passions that do not last.
Love lasts by not lasting.
Isaiah said each man walks in his own fire
for his sins. Love allows us to walk
in the sweet music of our particular heart.
poem by Jack Gilbert
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The Fairy's Promise
Poet.
Beautiful silver-winged spirits of good,
That hide in the leaves of the loneliest wood;
Green-kirtled fairies whom none may see
But the soul that hath passion for Poesie.
Brownies and kelpies and fays and elves
Who keep the moon to your own little selves;
Ye whose light revel and quick-tripping round
Bend the white daisy-buds down to the ground:
The moon may be high and the night may be clear,
But leave them and list to a poet's prayer.
Fairy.
Mortal, speak on! we have loved thee long,
Thou hast told of our revels in sweetest song;
And only, alas! by the faith of men
Hold we our lives in the grassy glen.
Thou hast never plucked daisy or heather-bell
From the emerald braes where the fairies dwell;
Thou didst never fright from her leafy nest
The bird that the Fairies love ever the best,
But hast turned thy foot aside silently
When her round black eye fell fearful on thee;
Thou hast never torn fishes with cruel hooks
From the pleasant ripple of summer brooks;
So we love thee well, and will list to thy prayer,
Though the moon may be up, and the night may be clear.
Poet.
White-footed Fairy-Queen, close by the sea,
Like a beautiful child at her father's knee,
There sitteth a city beneath a hill
Where a lady is living apart and still;
Lovely and gentle and wise is she,
I love her most truly and faithfully;
Better than all that the world may hold,
Better than honour and life and gold.
I would thou shouldst watch her by day and by night,
That her beautiful eyes may be ever bright.
Fairy.
How shall we know her, that we may keep
Watch of her waking, and ward of her sleep?
Poet.
Look for a lady whose glossy hair
Borders a forehead most frank and fair;
Eyes that are full of a heavenly light
Like sister stars in the front of night;
Lips curving red like the crimson fold
Of a half-shut rose in the early cold,
Which never with singing or speech were stirred,
But the singing and speech was the sweetest heard;
Busy white fingers, slender and small,
Little feet lost in her garments' fall.
Graces like these and a thousand above
Shall guide thee in seeking the lady I love.
Fairy.
What name weareth she? tell us it true;
Whisper it low to the fairy crew.
Poet.
Read it, sweet Queen, on my beating heart,
Graven so deep, it can never part;
This shall be sign of the lady ye seek,
Say to her 'Janet' and she shall speak.
Fairy.
Fifty and four of my valiant fays
Shall watch in her walks through the weariest days;
Fifty and four in their liveries white
Have charge of her dreams in the dreariest night.
And the spirit that doth not his bidding well
Shall pine for the year in a dark nut shell.
Poet.
And may two of the truest at either ear
Whisper his name who hath sent them there!
Fairy.
Ay! and the fleetest shall come on the wind
Bringing thee news of thy lady's mind;
Rest thee well, lover! be quiet and calm;
Thy lady is charmed with the Fairies' charm.
poem by Edwin Arnold
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Lines Written In The Album At Elbingerode, In The Hartz Forest
I stood on Brocken's sovran height, and saw
Woods crowding upon woods, hills over hills
A surging scene, and only limited
By the blue distance. Heavily my way
Downward I dragged through fir groves evermore,
Where bright green moss heaves in sepulchral forms
Speckled with sunshine; and, but seldom heard,
The sweet bird's song became a hollow sound;
And the breeze, murmuring indivisibly,
Preserved its solemn murmur most distinct
From many a note of many a waterfall,
And the brook's chatter; 'mid whose islet stones
The dingy kidling with its tinkling bell
Leaped frolicsome, or old romantic goat
Sat, his white beard slow waving. I moved on
In low and languid mood: for I had found
That outward forms, the loftiest, still receive
Their finer influence from the Life within;
Fair cyphers else: fair, but of import vague
Or unconcerning, where the heart not finds
History or prophecy of friend, or child,
Or gentle maid, our first and early love,
Or father, or the venerable name
Of our adored country! O thou Queen,
Thou delegated Deity of Earth,
O dear, dear England! how my longing eye
Turned westward, shaping in the steady clouds
Thy sands and high white cliffs!
My native Land!
Filled with the thought of thee this heart was proud,
Yea, mine eye swam with tears: that all the view
From sovran Brocken, woods and woody hills,
Floated away, like a departing dream,
Feeble and dim! Stranger, these impulses
Blame thou not lightly; nor will I profane,
With hasty judgment or injurious doubt,
That man's sublimer spirit, who can feel
That God is everywhere! the God who framed
Mankind to be one mighty family,
Himself our Father, and the World our Home.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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