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.
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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Summer Romance
summer romance
the ever lasting moments
seeing you happy
fills my heart with joy
with the sun shining down on us
like nothing's there but the summer romance
all the wind and the waves
when we picked out our faves
the flower smell
sweet and small
i found what ive been searching for at last
its called summer romance
the sun shines so bright
when you told me this was right
with you in my arms
when we took a picture of the farms
in a flower we saw a bee
and told me that i will see
that tomorrow is a bright day
in so many kind of ways
so this is summer romance
ever lasting moments
being with you
its just that ill always love you
poem by Angeline Snowboy
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New Heaven
Paradise now has many a Knight,
Many a lordkin, many lords,
Glimmer of armor, dinted and bright,
The young Knights have put on new swords.
Some have barely down on the lip,
Smiling yet from the new-won spurs,
Their wounds are rubies, glowing and deep,
Their scars amethyst-glorious scars.
Michael’s army hath many new men,
Gravest Knights that may sit in stall
Kings and Captains, a shining train,
But the little young Knights are dearest of all.
Paradise now is the soldiers land
Their own country its shining sod,
Comrades all in a merry band;
And the young Knights’ Laughter pleaseth God.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Romance Bore Seduction
Hand blessed hand, caressed.
A blushing rose, her face;
Her breast alive;
The elfin nose, a diamond set -
A kiss upon perfection
Bore a rise of pulse
To coach a sultry moan
Across a mellow breath of wine.
He knew; he sensed,
And easing loose a clasp of lace,
Another sign of her relenting:
Wild the play of eyes,
A fuller glide of skin;
He felt the now begin -
Her swell, intention in the sigh.
And so to hedge his move upon the cue -
The cry of deep anticipation,
Waxing all he saw -
Tho' not for us to view -
Arrived, emotion raw.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
Now render to caressing waves of romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Moments
Moments of sheer exhilaration,
Riding finely tuned thoroughbreds, in a horse lovers nation,
Falling leaves, upon sweet smelling meadows like cunning thieves,
Sprinkles of raindrops tied in silky bows, intricately weaved,
Silver moons shimmering iconically, in a inky black sky,
Fairytales and legends, that ain't no lie,
Castles, ancient towers, holy wells, the sound of church bells.
Peace is here now, tranquillity shining everyday,
With polished sunshine and rain that can't be tamed,
Life is rich in song and poetry
In a land obsessed, with the art of being free,
Mountains, lakes and forests congregate in glorious opulence,
Moments to dance with nature's own kind,
Nobody is ever left behind,
Moments, moments of a lifetime, that always rhymes.
My lifesource's saved me when i was immersed in shifting sands,
Thinness became a goal, losing all interest in my soul,
My amazing parents, showed me the splendour of diversity, in this timeless land,
Music playing continualy, like a rhythm and blues band.
Mystic mountains, luminous lakes, the blue majestic ocean,
Always a fanfare in motion,
My heart soars as i drink this magic potion.
Loving words are a kingdom for a notion,
Moments, moments of golden days,
Forever love, in this island caressed, from high up above.
poem by Hazel Durham
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Finis
An idle rhyme of the summer time,
Sweet, and solemn, and tender;
Fair with the haze of the moon's pale rays,
Bright with the sunset's splendour.
Summer and beauty over the lands -
Careless hours of pleasure;
A meeting of eyes and a touching of hands -
A change in the floating measure.
A deeper hue in the skies of blue,
Winds from the tropics blowing;
A softer grace in the fair moons face,
And the summer going, going.
The leaves drift down, the green grows brown,
And tears with smiles are blended;
A twilight hour and a treasured flower, -
And now the poem is ended.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Everything Is Growing
Everything is growing
There is nothing broken
No sad moment of failing time
Grace filled with mystic morning
Cool breeze, a sea of forgiveness
Hope is a child of dawn
Song birds build their nest
Blue glory covers the eye
Forests bow to dreams of peace
Summer fills with sweet wine
Roses bright, purple, yellow, white
Meadows glow in joy
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Ancient Greek Song Of Exile
WHERE is the summer, with her golden sun?
-That festal glory hath not pass'd from earth:
For me alone the laughing day is done!
Where is the summer with her voice of mirth?
-Far in my own bright land!
Where are the Fauns, whose flute-notes breathe and die
On the green hills?-the founts, from sparry caves
Through the wild places bearing melody?
The reeds, low whispering o'er the river waves?
-Far in my own bright land!
Where are the temples, through the dim wood shining,
The virgin-dances, and the choral strains?
Where the sweet sisters of my youth, entwining
The Spring's first roses for their sylvan fanes?
-Far in my own bright land!
Where are the vineyards, with their joyous throngs,
The red grapes pressing when the foliage fades?
The lyres, the wreaths, the lovely Dorian songs,
And the pine forests, and the olive shades?
-Far in my own bright land!
Where the deep haunted grots, the laurel bowers,
The Dryad's footsteps, and the minstrel's dreams?
-Oh! that my life were as a southern flower's!
I might not languish then by these chill streams,
Far from my own bright land!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Golden Kiss
await your roses in my dreams
Carriages of the troubadour well
Castles in fauve visions of Keats
Every cryptic flower sings of you
Now the world is extravagant grace
Elegant tendrils of spring’s rapture
Colors of the gardens divine wisdom
Love plants vines of mystic wine
Poetry as soft as summer flutes
My darling your eyes are like a forest
Night brings lips of serene moonlight
Joy shines over the sea of harmony
Adagios of romance like mystic begonias
Stars swirl and we are the dance of wind
Cupid has sent his sweet nightingales
Fountains of your heart pour into bliss
I am awakened by a golden kiss
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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In The Harbour: The Four Lakes Of Madison
Four limpid lakes,--four Naiades
Or sylvan deities are these,
In flowing robes of azure dressed;
Four lovely handmaids, that uphold
Their shining mirrors, rimmed with gold,
To the fair city in the West.
By day the coursers of the sun
Drink of these waters as they run
Their swift diurnal round on high;
By night the constellations glow
Far down the hollow deeps below,
And glimmer in another sky.
Fair lakes, serene and full of light,
Fair town, arrayed in robes of white,
How visionary ye appear!
All like a floating landscape seems
In cloud-land or the land of dreams,
Bathed in a golden atmosphere!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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John Day: XIII
DAY was a full-blown flower in heaven, alive
With murmuring joy of bees and birds aswarm,
When in the skies of song yet flushed and warm
With music where all passion seems to strive
For utterance, all things bright and fierce to drive
Struggling along the splendour of the storm,
Day for an hour put off his fiery form,
And golden murmurs from a golden hive
Across the strong bright summer wind were heard,
And laughter soft as smiles from girls at play
And loud from lips of boys brow-bound with May.
Our mightiest age let fall its gentlest word,
When Song, in semblance of a sweet small bird,
Lit fluttering on the light swift hand of Day.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Halfdan Kjerulf
Winter had sought his life's tree to o'erthrow,
Youthful and strong. But his blood's vernal flow
Saved it from death through the cold and the maiming;
Late in the summer bright flowers were flaming,
Late in the autumn they swelled to completeness,-
Fruits that were few, but of fragrance and sweetness.
Poets received them to endless seed-sowing,
Where for his folk endless summer is glowing,-
While more and more,
Stricken he hung o'er the death-river's shore,
Fighting in weakness the winter abhorred,
Fighting for summer, the singer's reward,
Fighting while failing, with modesty rare,
Soon but in prayer.
Summer received him! He now is victorious!
Now, while they harvest the yellowing corn,
Now, while the hills hear the notes of the horn,
He
enters glorious.
Mirrored in him is true poetry's force,
Marked by our winter, in summer its source.
E'en as the air with its quivering sheen,
Leaves of the forests and red peaks serene,
Waters that wander 'mid meadows delaying
Sound with the music the sunshine is playing,-
Poetry also shall leap with new life,
If it, though failing, is faithful in strife:-
Leap from death's thronging:-
Soon comes the summer with summer's pure longing.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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The Winter Lakes
Out in a world of death far to the northward lying,
Under the sun and the moon, under the dusk and the day;
Under the glimmer of stars and the purple of sunsets dying,
Wan and waste and white, stretch the great lakes away.
Never a bud of spring, never a laugh of summer,
Never a dream of love, never a song of bird;
But only the silence and white, the shores that grow chiller and dumber,
Wherever the ice winds sob, and the griefs of winter are heard.
Crags that are black and wet out of the grey lake looming,
Under the sunset's flush and the pallid, faint glimmer of dawn;
Shadowy, ghost-like shores, where midnight surfs are booming
Thunders of wintry woe over the spaces wan.
Lands that loom like spectres, whited regions of winter,
Wastes of desolate woods, deserts of water and shore;
A world of winter and death, within these regions who enter,
Lost to summer and life, go to return no more.
Moons that glimmer above, waters that lie white under,
Miles and miles of lake far out under the night;
Foaming crests of waves, surfs that shoreward thunder,
Shadowy shapes that flee, haunting the spaces white.
Lonely hidden bays, moon-lit, ice-rimmed, winding,
Fringed by forests and crags, haunted by shadowy shores;
Hushed from the outward strife, where the mighty surf is grinding
Death and hate on the rocks, as sandward and landward it roars.
poem by William Wilfred Campbell
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Poem for John around the camp-fire
Arthur with all his knights around
sleep the sweet sleep of time
under the green hills of Avalon;
this we believe; this comforts us.
We’ll call them when we need them..
unless, the sharp cold dark night-mists of time
make men forget to spell their children’s minds.
And not only knights, they say,
but all his court, to rise at time of need;
poets, singers, clowns and wise men too;
all sleep the sweet sleep of those
who know what waking is.
Tread the green hills of Avalon
on a balmy summer night
and the faintest sound of horse
snorting in its sweet-hay sleep
should send you back to tell the tale
to those who must one day know
just when to wake the sleeping court
before it’s then too late: wake,
golden; spurred; invincible like truth.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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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Lady, your words do spite me
Lady, your words do spite me,
Yet your sweet lips, so soft, kiss and delight me,
Your deeds my heart surcharg'd with overjoying,
Your taunts my life destroying.
Since both have force to spill me,
let kisses sweet, Sweet, kill me.
Knights fight with swords and lances,
Fight you with smiling glances,
So, like swans of Leander,
My ghost from hence shall wander,
singing and dying.
poem by John Wilbye
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Near Avalon
A ship with shields before the sun,
Six maidens round the mast,
A red-gold crown on every one,
A green gown on the last.
The fluttering green banners there
Are wrought with ladies' heads most fair,
And a portraiture of Guenevere
The middle of each sail doth bear.
A ship with sails before the wind,
And round the helm six knights,
Their heaumes are on, whereby, half blind,
They pass by many sights.
The tatter'd scarlet banners there
Right soon will leave the spear-heads bare.
Those six knights sorrowfully bear
In all their heaumes some yellow hair.
poem by William Morris
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Shameful Death
There were four of us about that bed;
The mass-priest knelt at the side,
I and his mother stood at the head,
Over his feet lay the bride;
We were quite sure that he was dead,
Though his eyes were open wide.
He did not die in the night,
He did not die in the day,
But in the morning twilight
His spirit pass'd away,
When neither sun nor moon was bright,
And the trees were merely grey.
He was not slain with the sword,
Knight's axe, or the knightly spear,
Yet spoke he never a word
After he came in here;
I cut away the cord
From the neck of my brother dear.
He did not strike one blow,
For the recreants came behind,
In a place where the hornbeams grow,
A path right hard to find,
For the hornbeam boughs swing so,
That the twilight makes it blind.
They lighted a great torch then,
When his arms were pinion'd fast,
Sir John the knight of the Fen,
Sir Guy of the Dolorous Blast,
With knights threescore and ten,
Hung brave Lord Hugh at last.
I am threescore and ten,
And my hair is all turn'd grey,
But I met Sir John of the Fen
Long ago on a summer day,
And am glad to think of the moment when
I took his life away.
I am threescore and ten,
And my strength is mostly pass'd,
But long ago I and my men,
When the sky was overcast,
And the smoke roll'd over the reeds of the fen,
Slew Guy of the Dolorous Blast.
And now, knights all of you,
I pray you pray for Sir Hugh,
A good knight and a true,
And for Alice, his wife, pray too.
poem by William Morris
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Sweet Summer Lovin
Though the sun may be dawning
Youre the one that lights the morning
As I awake to the heaven
Of your sweet summer lovin
By a stream in the country
Running barefoot and feeling free
While the love in our hearts blend
Into sweet summer lovin
Sweet summer lovin in the dandelions
Sweet summer lovin keeps me high as candy wine
When that big red balloon sets
Like a painting across the west
As the sky turns a crimson blue
As the world turns for me and you
By the light of the moon glowing
While the warm summer wind blows
cross the sill of your window
Well be letting our love flow
Sweet summer lovin in the dandelions
Sweet summer lovin keeps me high as candy wine
Sweet summer lovin in the dandelions
Sweet summer lovin keeps me high as candy wine
Sweet summer lovin
Sweet summer lovin
Mmm...
Sweet summer lovin
Mmm...
Sweet summer lovin
I love your sweet summer lovin
Sweet summer lovin
Sweet summer lovin
Mmm...
Sweet summer lovin
Mmm...
Sweet summer lovin
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mystic Moon
the mystic moon she shines so bright
it fills our hearts with the power of light
mystic me she calls to us
for us to live a life we can not rush
the mystic moon
her silver wind
blows through our world
and binds us to her
mystic moon
why do you love us so
we are born of darkness
yet you shine your light as our protector
mystic moon i understand
you are the darkness in wich we command
poem by Jasmine Appelhaus
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