Related quotes: Carols nature, counsel men. Different...

The Three Singers To Young Blood

Carols nature, counsel men.
Different notes as rook from wren
Hear we when our steps begin,
And the choice is cast within,
Where a robber raven's tale
Urges passion's nightingale.

Hark to the three. Chimed they in one,
Life were music of the sun.
Liquid first, and then the caw,
Then the cry that knows not law.

As the birds do, so do we,
Bill our mate, and choose our tree.
Swift to building work addressed,
Any straw will help a nest.
Mates are warm, and this is truth,
Glad the young that come of youth.
They have bloom i' the blood and sap
Chilling at no thunder-clap.
Man and woman on the thorn
Trust not Earth, and have her scorn.
They who in her lead confide,
Wither me if they spread not wide!
Look for aid to little things,
You will get them quick as wings,
Thick as feathers; would you feed,
Take the leap that springs the need.

Contemplate the rutted road:
Life is both a lure and goad.
Each to hold in measure just,
Trample appetite to dust.
Mark the fool and wanton spin:
Keep to harness as a skin.
Ere you follow nature's lead,
Of her powers in you have heed;
Else a shiverer you will find
You have challenged humankind.
Mates are chosen marketwise:
Coolest bargainer best buys.
Leap not, nor let leap the heart:
Trot your track, and drag your cart.
So your end may be in wool,
Honoured, and with manger full.

III

O the rosy light! it fleets,
Dearer dying than all sweets.
That is life: it waves and goes;
Solely in that cherished Rose
Palpitates, or else 'tis death.
Call it love with all thy breath.
Love! it lingers: Love! it nears:
Love! O Love! the Rose appears,
Blushful, magic, reddening air.
Now the choice is on thee: dare!
Mortal seems the touch, but makes
Immortal the hand that takes.
Feel what sea within thee shames
Of its force all other claims,
Drowns them. Clasp! the world will be
Heavenly Rose to swelling sea.

poem by George Meredith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Take The Leap

Take the leap
Fly with me if you're ready
Allow me to lead
Dance with me, sway with me
Could you let me in?

I want to take the leap
I truly wish to fly
You can lead, I will let you
I will allow you in
I'm just scared

You won't come to harm
I will hold you close
In a tight embrace
We can try to fly
Prove that you trust me

I trust you, I do
It's a fear of the leap
Of the effort, the goals
What if we don't make it?
I don't wish to die

We won't die, I promise
Come into my arms
We will dance and sway
Together
Forever

Just take the leap, mon chérie
Pour je t'aime
I love you
I will care for you
In life and death
Ma cœur

Then let us fly through the night
Two birds of a feather
Our wings trace circles through the sky
We fly as high as we may, or ‘til there is a barrier
For I love you too, my dear

poem by Gwenevere Cornwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring.

'Let the light rain on her, the sweet Spring, till
She teems with greenery in the warm air,
Flower-hued, and vocal with the tender joy
Of bleating lambs and young birds on the wing.'
Thus on the cold hill doth the herdsman pray
Beneath his frozen star; the milkmaid, too,
As her raw hands take up the milking-pail,
And the wind freezes in the red dawn near: —
'Come, Spring, earth's sap, and mount in me until
I bloom, a rose of love: smile in mine eyes
Till my love from his wintry hill shall see
The star of youth, and leap into my arms!
O Spring, sweet Spring! but hear my prayer, and I
Shall build thee bowers of roses on the hill,
And all the summer there with bird and bee
Shall joy feast in the beauty of our love!'
Thus do they chant the wintry time away
In hill and vale, the two who look to when
The warmth of beauty takes life's wonder on,
And the rose of the flesh shall bloom for them.

poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Rose Is, But A Rose

A Rose Is, But A Rose by Kenny Davis

A rose is, but a rose
Its illustrious petals has me drawn to her
With every one that blooms and blossoms I yearn for her
For with every one that drops and withers away I mourn for her

A rose is, but a rose
Holds such beauty like that of the Garden of Eden
Thanking god for the gift of this rose, I find myself pleading
Hoping that the beauty found in this rose is not misleading

A rose is, but a rose
With its true essence hidden under its thorns
Cherishing, treasuring, and loving it beyond its pain and scorn
Hoping that through all the love I show for her, that its spirit is reborn

A rose is, but a rose
Through the storms, finds the strength to continue to bloom
Where most would have been doomed to allow life’s rage to be consumed
Through my admiration of her creation send a sensation to have her faith in love renewed

A rose is, but a rose
Though there are many, none like her
Much like the fiery red of her petals, my love for her continues to burn
Blessing me with privilege caring for her, she allows me to shower my love for her in return

A rose is, but a rose
Gardening every inch of her nature overwhelmingly fills this void inside
I gained an everlasting love for life, when my world with hers collided
Much like a rose without water, without my rose, I would wither and die

poem by Kenneth Davis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Many Are Called

Many are called, dear heart, to happiness,
But few are chosen, even for a wild short year.
Love calls us from our sleep, and we make stress
To rise and greet him in a world austere
With a sweet dawn, while blithe as chanticleer
He carols his brave message, and we loosen
The shutters of our grief to find him near.
Many are called by Love, but few are chosen.

Love's voice is truth. He speaks his messages
In tones we dare not doubt, and we give ear
As to a prophet of our wilderness,
The glorious lord of a new hemisphere.
And we run, we too, glorious, without fear,
Like children on bright ice too thinly frozen,
Gay to our doom. Ah me! The plunge was sheer.
Many are called by Love, but few are chosen.

Love chooses whom he will to ban or bless.
My fate was a wild shepherd's on the drear
Plains of wan hope, whose one--time shepherdess
Was lost even in the winning, and whose cheer
Has since been of the yellow leaf and sere,
(Scorned is the rose--tree Time finds no last rose on)
And silence claims him and the end is near.
Many are called by Love, but few are chosen.

Queen of my life! I do not love you less
Because you choose not me to cast your woes on.
It is enough for me you once said ``Yes.''
Many are called by Love, but few are chosen.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Wayward Rose

Mischievous rose from the rose-tree swaying,
Can I not bind thee nor hold thee?
Can I not weave thee nor fold thee
In with thy sisters to staying?
Vain is my passion or praying,
Rose from the rose-tree swaying.
Wayward sweet rose from the rose-tree swinging,
Can I not pass thee, forget thee?
Can I not see to regret thee?
In—'mid thy kindred's close ringing,
Out—to my heart she comes winging,
Rose from the rose-tree swinging.
Cruel red rose from the rose-tree swaying,
Ever to worship thee, throne thee,
Never to lose thee or own thee,
Thy beauty to keep me from straying,
Thy thorns for my passionate praying,
Rose from the rose-tree swaying.

poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like A Rose

And as I look into your eyes
I see an angel in disguise
Sent from God above
For me to love
To hold and idolise

And as I hold your body near
I'll see this month through to a year
And then forever on
'Til life is gone
I'll keep your loving near

And now I've finally found my way
To lead me down this lonely road
All I have to do
Is follow you
To lighten off my load

You treat me like a rose
You give me room to grow
You shone the light of love on me
And gave me air so I can breathe
You open doors that close
In a world where anything goes
You give me strength so I stand tall
Within this bed of earth
Just like a rose

And when I feel like hope is gone
You give me strength to carry on
Each time I look at you
There's something new
To keep our loving strong

I hear you whisper in my ear
All of the words I long to hear
Of how you'll always be
Here next to me
To wipe away my tears

And now I've finally found my way
To lead me down this lonely road
All I have to do is follow you
To lighten off my load

And though the seasons change
Our love remains the same
You face the thunder
When the sunshine turns to rain
Just like a rose

You give me strength so I stand tall
Within this bed of earth
Just like a rose

song performed by by A1 from Here We Come
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leap Of Faith

All over the world the rain was pourin
I was scratchin where it itched
Oh heartbreak and despair got nothing but boring
So I grabbed you baby like a wild pitch
It takes a leap of faith to get things going
It takes a leap of faith you gotta show some guts
It takes a leap of faith to get things going
In your heart you must trust
Now your legs were heaven your breasts were the altar
Your body was the holy land
You shouted jump but my heart faltered
You laughed and said baby dont you understand?
It takes a leap of faith to get things going
It takes a leap of faith you gotta show some guts
It takes a leap of faith to get things going
In your heart you must trust
Now you were the red sea I was moses
I kissed you and slipped into a bed of roses
The waters parted and love rushed inside
I was jesus son sanctified
Tonight the moons looking young but Im feelin younger
neath a veil of dreams sweet blessings rain
Honey I can feel the first breeze of summer
And in your love Im born again
It takes a leap of faith to get things going
It takes a leap of faith you gotta show some guts
It takes a leap of faith to get things going
In your heart you must trust
Roy bittan, keyboards
Lisa lowell, backing vocals
Patti scialfa, backing vocals
Soozie tyrell, backing vocals

song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rose

In my hand I held the rose
As I would a woman dear,
Within my fingers I held it tight
As I wished it would not disappear.
From the touch, sight and beauty that I knew,
When the kiss of beauty, once had blew.

I held the rose as I would a love
As I had held in memory and thought,
And then the rose I could not let go
For the same as a lover, she became my soul.
The stem became the body and the petals became the skin,
Then I held her lightly, within the wind.

The rose held me, as I had held her
The two of us had become one
Then the act of God had prevailed that day
For he commanded the wind to take the rose away.
And towards the heavens She had flew,
As though to join the love that I once had knew.

In my hand there laid a thorn
Though to remind me of the sting of death,
So upon the Earth, I then laid the thorn
So love of life could again be reborn.
I buried the thorn as you would a dream,
Knowing never again, will it be seen.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Beautiful Rose

This beautiful rose
I hold in my hand,
Her beauty, her softness
Beyond feelings so grand.
To touch this rose
Feels so magic inside'
So gracious with love
Tears fall from my eyes.
As I layed you down
Upon my breast your so warm,
I can feel your heartbeat
Of this rose she is born.
I have given birth to this rose
Your my life so shine'
I'm so proud to be your mummy
My rose I'm so glad your mine.

(Dedicated to my beautiful girls)

poem by Nychia Wall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Values

Did you deceive me? Did I trust
A heart of fire to a heart of dust?
What matter? Since once the world was fair,
And you gave me the rose of the world to wear.

That was the time to live for! Flowers,
Sunshine and starshine and magic hours,
Summer about me, Heaven above,
And all seemed immortal, even Love.

Well, the mortal rose of your love was worth
The pains of death and the pains of birth;
And the thorns may be sharper than death--who knows? -
That crowd round the stem of a deathless rose.

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rose, Fall

Rose of many petals that fall at gentle touch,
you cannot match up to my love-who with touch does not fall
Rose of the green stem, who withers when is dry
you cannot match up to my love, who with age, never dries
Rose of thorny flaws, who pricks me at the lips
you cannot match up to my love, whos lips contain no thorns
Rose like any other rose, who with them does not stand out,
you cannot match up to my love, whose beauty stands outloud
Rose of limited colors, who can only bloom one tone
you cannot match up to my love, who blooms of every hue
Rose, who only appeals to eyes, to those who see its beauty
you cannot match up to my love, who appeals to every sense
Rose fall down, and bow to my love-she is the one with grace
Rose wither away to my love, whose beauty outlives yours
Rose turn 'way, when in presence to my love-
for she holds something you dont hold
and that is my steep love

poem by Afrodita Alkline
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rose

This immortal rose that lovers seek
will be glimpsed by all in youthful peak
for her presence will be on every corner.

And those who confuse that heady perfume
with a lust for love,
will only find winter in an unknown heart
for beauty was always a fragile thing.

We who have seen this gift from above
will always get burned by its light.
The poet and the painter
have perfumed our existence
with loves testimony to this.

The pain and tears fall on empty shield
for love will break your heart
but when we reach out to hold the rose
picked from these fields of hope,
a moment in life unfurls,
love will kiss your soul
and the world belongs to you.

Fleeting are the petals of time
the rose is a symbol to love.
For others it is the pain of life,
to find and lose this immortal gift
leaves a desert where life cannot breathe.

The laughter replaced by silence
the smile that is kept in darkness,
the kiss exiled to the memory.

Love is lost in the deepest pit
of your despair,
the thorns will bleed your soul red
but she can never die.

Love will always leave a spark
that will lead you to redemption
and only death can take this from you.

The rose was never yours to pick
but its creation yours to admire
for your being was made for this.

And as our mortal bodies die
the spirit will seek the rose once more
for in death its petals fall too
blessing the ground of your resting place.

The rose was always yours
and its beauty a source of life
the chains of doubt will always
break in its presence.

The rose is pure
as is your faith in mankind.
It can show you a deeper meaning
for you are the petals of life
she is the perfume of your existence
and it is you that made her life complete.

poem by Steven Cooke
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Pretty Pink Rose

Shes just been to russia and theyre dying their faces
Theyre dying over there
A pretty pink rose
That rnr lady takes a space-ship ride shes out of this world
A pretty pink rose
And were living for you my love, were living for you
And were dying for you my love
Pretty pink rose
She tore down paris on the tall of thom paine
But the left wings broken the right insane
A pretty pink rose
Have a nice day, its a killer, turn a cheek
Its a christian code
A pretty pink rose
And were living for you my love, were living for you
And were dying for you my love
Pretty pink rose
Shes the poor mans gold shes the anarchist crucible
Flying in the face of the despot cannible
Shes a pretty pink rose
Never let it rain, never let it rain on the heart of the pretty pink rose
Pretty pink rose
And were living for you my love, were living for you
And were dying for you my love, pretty pink rose
Get me thru the pain, thru the pain of the thorn on the pretty pink rose
Never let it rain, never rain never rain, the pretty pink rose
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart, of the pretty pink rose
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart, of the pretty pink rose
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart,, of the pretty pink rose
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart

song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Guardian and BloodRose

BloodRose,
Rose of my love,
My love for Dark moon,
Dark as my heart,
Black as my soul,
And gave me my rose.

The rose of blood,
With petals soft and black,
Never as a rose so beautiful,
Grown not in light,
But under a dark moon lit sky.

Guardian,
Yes a guardian of BloodRose,
With teeth long and sharp,
Claws hard as diamonds,
Scales as dark as night.

My dear sweet guardian,
Guardian black as my heart,
Fire in your eyes,
Shadows in your soul,
A dragon of the dark moon.

A single rose,
With petals so fare,
As dark as my heart,
I now hold in my hand,
The rose of blood.

You are my darkness,
Fear of this love,
This love for you,
Love for darkness,
The cold shadows in my heart
That makes me yearn for you.

Now as you lay dying,
I hold a single rose,
The rose you gave me,
And as I hold it tight,
The thorns slice my hand,
Covered with blood,
My blood.

I have one fear,
The fear of death,
Symbol of my lost love,
Rose as dark as me,
Laying in a pool of blood,
Blood from me.

As I lay dying,
I remember my name,
BloodRose,
I am the rose of blood,
And I died of my own creation.

A creation of perfect beauty,
Petals dark black,
Thorns like small daggers,
Grown from my love,
My love for a dragon,
A dragon as dark as my heart.

Even in my death,
I think of you,
And the rose you gave me,
The rose that killed me,
The Rose of Blood.

poem by Nicolette Gonzalez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Without The Rose

Love is like a rose
good to hold and smell
but then that rose begins to die
and you go through hell

One thing you should know my friends
is that love can scorn
and just like life
every rose has it's thorns.

but as the rose you hold
withers and fades away
another rose has appeared
and your pains is taken away.

This cycle of life
no one will ever know
why we would fight amongst ourself
for that one single rose

And even though we try
to let our pain go
we can't do it
without that rose

poem by Shelbie Bozeman
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Sonnet XLIII: How Do I Love Thee?

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Rose, Rose(by Henrry Zhou)

Rose, Rose
Love you, without words.
When I touch your waist,
Close to your lips.

Rose, Rose
Kisses are what you send to me.
Endless mythical dream
Every kiss seems to be

Rose, rose
Aren’t you the waves of the red wine
Of the first night in a wedding?
In your soft heart
slipped the lovers’ laughs and tears.

Love you, Rose
Light vortex, pink whorls
full of a garden I wish to plant Roses
Even waking to be a sad nightmare
Still I will hold you.
O, Rose, my dear Rose

poem by Henrry Zhou
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From The Break The Nightingale

From the brake the Nightingale
Sings exulting to the Rose;
Though he sees her waxing pale
In her passionate repose,
While she triumphs waxing frail,
Fading even while she glows;
Though he knows
How it goes -
Knows of last year's Nightingale
Dead with last year's Rose.

Wise the enamoured Nightingale,
Wise the well-beloved Rose!
Love and life shall still prevail,
Nor the silence at the close
Break the magic of the tale
In the telling, though it shows -
Who but knows
How it goes! -
Life a last year's Nightingale,
Love a last year's Rose.

poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where Your First Rose?

Someone use to remember loved once after many years (first rose-First love) that we never forget. Looking for it again hence nothing can accomplishes first love. Time has changed every things...
____________________________________ ______________________

Where your first rose?

Where your first rose?
I know you looking for it
But you cannot find...

Where your first rose?
I know you having forget it
Somewhere that you don’t know...

Where your first rose?
Hiding some where
You cannot ever reach...

Where your first rose?
Beneath someone heart
That you don’t know the person...

Where your first rose?
That cherish for ever
You forget to rescue it...

Where your first rose?
That you need to smell it
But you didn’t...

Where your first rose?
Smell like angels perfume
You once smell...

Where your first rose?
That you looking every where
Run away from you...

Where your first rose?
That born together in every soul
But you chased away...

Where your first rose?
That gives you happiness
Forever and forever...

Where your first rose?
That you kissed it every day
When you have it...

Where your first rose?
That you still looking for it
After many years left by...

Where your first rose?
That gives you every thing
Warm, happiness and true love...

Where your first rose?
That only dedicated you
By a true angel on earth...

Where your first rose?
You will have it never
Again with jealous eyes...

Where your first rose?
That gives to you
Behalf of true love...

Where your first rose?
That’s become a disappear
After you say no...

Where your first rose?
That has an ocean deep of value
You value it forever...

Where your first rose?
Away from you now
That’s you call every day...

Where your first rose?
You call by dreams
But really cannot touch...

Where your first rose?
You call by name
But didn’t hear your voice...

Where your first rose?
Whispering with you
Every nights and days...

Where your first rose?
That sung a songs ever nights
To lullaby...

Where your first rose?
That you don’t know

where its still...

That’s with me

By
O.W.Palitha Ariyarathna
Copyright, O.W. Palitha Ariyarathna.2010
All Rights Reserved By Author: 2010

poem by Palitha Ariyarathna
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

The Three Singers To Young Blood

Related quotes

Take The Leap

Spring.

A Rose Is, But A Rose

Many Are Called

A Wayward Rose

Like A Rose

Leap Of Faith

The Rose

This Beautiful Rose

Values

Rose, Fall

The Rose

Pretty Pink Rose

The Guardian and BloodRose

Without The Rose

Sonnet XLIII: How Do I Love Thee?

How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)

Rose, Rose(by Henrry Zhou)

From The Break The Nightingale

Where Your First Rose?

En.Citatepedia^®.ro