As The Summer Day Do Pass (Persian / Rubiyat Quatrain)
As the summer day do pass
so does the time of roses in a glass
and while they do love express
still days run on and nothing stays as it was.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Farewell to the Court
Like truthless dreams, so are my joys expir'd,
And past return are all my dandled days;
My love misled, and fancy quite retir'd--
Of all which pass'd the sorrow only stays.
My lost delights, now clean from sight of land,
Have left me all alone in unknown ways;
My mind to woe, my life in fortune's hand--
Of all which pass'd the sorrow only stays.
As in a country strange, without companion,
I only wail the wrong of death's delays,
Whose sweet spring spent, whose summer well-nigh done--
Of all which pass'd only the sorrow stays.
Whom care forewarns, ere age and winter cold,
To haste me hence to find my fortune's fold.
poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
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My Loss
IN the world was one green nook I knew,
Full of roses, roses red and white,
Reddest roses summer ever grew,
Whitest roses ever pearled with dew;
And their sweetness was beyond delight,
Was all love's delight.
Wheresoever in the world I went,
Roses were; for in my heart I took
Blow and blossom and bewildering scent;
Roses never with the summer spent,
Roses always ripening in that nook,
Love's far summer nook.
In the world a soddened plot I know
Blackening in this chill and misty air,
Set with shivering bushes in a row,
One by one the last leaves letting go:
Wheresoe'er I turn I shall be there,
Always sighing there.
Ah, my folly! Ah, my loss, my pain!
Dead, my roses that can blow no more!
Wherefore looked I on our nook again?
Wherefore went I after autumn's rain,
Where the summer roses bloomed before,
Bloomed so sweet before?
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Roses
You brought me roses that you grew
and placed them in a glass.
They brightened up my demeanor
and let my sadness pass.
I knew they were there for me to see
just how much you care.
And though your words were silent,
the roses did declare
' I love you.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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It Was Not In The Winter
It was not in the Winter
Our loving lot was cast;
It was the Time of Roses,—
We plucked them as we passed!
That churlish season never frown'd
On early lovers yet:—
Oh, no—the world was newly crown'd
With flowers when first we met!
'Twas twilight, and I bade you go,
But still you held me fast;
It was the Time of Roses,—
We pluck'd them as we pass'd.—
What else could peer thy glowing cheek,
That tears began to stud?
And when I ask'd the like of Love,
You snatched a damask bud;
And oped it to the dainty core,
Still glowing to the last.—
It was the Time of Roses,—
We plucked them as we pass'd!
poem by Thomas Hood
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Asking for Roses
A house that lacks, seemingly, mistress and master,
With doors that none but the wind ever closes,
Its floor all littered with glass and with plaster;
It stands in a garden of old-fashioned roses.
I pass by that way in the gloaming with Mary;
'I wonder,' I say, 'who the owner of those is.'
'Oh, no one you know,' she answers me airy,
'But one we must ask if we want any roses.'
So we must join hands in the dew coming coldly
There in the hush of the wood that reposes,
And turn and go up to the open door boldly,
And knock to the echoes as beggars for roses.
'Pray, are you within there, Mistress Who-were-you?'
'Tis Mary that speaks and our errand discloses.
'Pray, are you within there? Bestir you, bestir you!
'Tis summer again; there's two come for roses.
'A word with you, that of the singer recalling--
Old Herrick: a saying that every maid knows is
A flower unplucked is but left to the falling,
And nothing is gained by not gathering roses.'
We do not loosen our hands' intertwining
(Not caring so very much what she supposes),
There when she comes on us mistily shining
And grants us by silence the boon of her roses.
poem by Robert Frost
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Katrina's Sun-Dial
Hours fly,
Flowers die:
New days,
New ways:
Pass by!
Love stays.
Time is
Too Slow for those who Wait,
Too Swift for those who Fear,
Too Long for those who Grieve,
Too Short for those who Rejoice;
But for those who Love,
Time is not.
poem by Henry Van Dyke from Music and Other Poems (1904)
Submitted by George Budoi
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All Things Must Pass
Sunrise doesnt last all morning
A cloudburst doesnt last all day
Seems my love is up and has left you with no warning
Its not always going to be this grey
All things must pass
All things must pass away
Sunset doesnt last all evening
A mind can blow those clouds away
After all this, my love is up and must be leaving
Its not always going to be this grey
All things must pass
All things must pass away
All things must pass
None of lifes strings can last
So, I must be on my way
And face another day
Now the darkness only stays the night-time
In the morning it will fade away
Daylight is good at arriving at the right time
Its not always going to be this grey
All things must pass
All things must pass away
All things must pass
All things must pass away
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mexican Wine
He was killed by a celular phone explosion
They scattered his ashes across the ocean
The water was used to make baby loation
The wheels of promotion, were set into motion
But the sun still shines in the summer time
I'll be yours if you'll be mine
I tried to change, but I changed my mind
I think I'll have another glass of Mexican Wine
She lived alone in a small apartment
Across the street from the health department
She left her pills in the glove compartment
That was the afternoon her heart went
And the sun still shines in the summer time
I'll be yours if you'll be mine
I tried to change, but I changed my mind
I think I'll have another glass of Mexican Wine
I think I'll have another glass of Mexican Wine
I used to fly for United Airlines
Then i got fired for reading High Times
My license expired in almost no time
Now I'm retired and I think that's fine
Because the sun still shines in the summer time
I'll be yours if you'll be mine
I tried to change, but I changed my mind
I think I'll have another glass of Mexican Wine
Because the sun still shines in the summer time
I'll be yours if you'll be mine
I tried to change, but I changed my mind
I think I'll have another glass of Mexican Wine
I think I'll have another glass of Mexican Wine
Wont you have another glass of Mexican Wine?
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ah Summer
Ah, summer
Holds me in its embrace.
That perfumed kiss
On the breeze
Winging bliss through the trees.
They dress so fair,
And jewels of sunlight everywhere
Dancing across that sleeping lake.
Drying dewdropp tears
As cooler dawn does break.
Ah, summer
Warms me with its unseen love.
She walks the meadow
As stars above
Tell me just to wait.
Our hearts will beat in time
With fate.
In the evening
Of new dreams.
As love is never as it seems.
Ah, summer
I fix my gaze
Upon red skies
And fill my days,
'Til sunset dies
With picnics,
Kisses
And butterflies.
That sunlit ocean
Eases my soul.
And I watch memories
Sail past.
She made my heart just rock and roll.
Maybe I'm still tied to the mast.
So let us drink deep
From summers' glass
Because winter waits
And all things must pass.
poem by Kevin East
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Living Off Of Memories
I am living off of memories--
Just wasting my time....
The hours pass into days...
And there is no reason nor rhyme;
Blue skies have gone missing-
Replaced by dark grey--
The Sun has taken its leave---
And the night has replaced day;
Springtime no longer exists-
All the blossoms are withered and dry--
Summer times brillance...
For me has just died;
I am living of of memories--
Just wasting my time...
The hours pass into days
There is no reason nor rhyme;
All that is left is a remnant...
Of days spent with you...
The fabrric of yesterdays love...
Now distant from view;
It is far off and laying atop-
Our love making bed...
Just a remnant-a remnant...
Of loving words once said;
I am living off of memories--
Just wasting my time...
The hours pass into days--
There is no reason nor rhyme;
I'm caught in the between...
Of yesterdays time...
Back in that sweet day---
When you were once mine;
Song Lyrics
May23,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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Roses Of Summer (Song Lyric)
Where are the roses, the roses of our summer?
The North wind has come and taken them away.
Blow, then, O thou Southern wind;
Blow, then, without ceasing,
Till the roses of summer have come back again.
Blow, then, O Southern wind;
Blow, then, O South wind;
Blow, then, O Southern wind;
Till the roses of summer come back again.
Where are the roses, the roses of our summer?
For to make a garland for mine own true love?
There are none: none to make a garland rare,
Not a single rosebud for her hair:
Blow, then, O Southern wind;
Blow, then, O Southern wind;
Bring the roses of summer back again.
South wind, blow!
poem by C. Richard Miles
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Alone
Open your heart for those
Their heart are sweetened with love
Pour them to your heart
Let them there to fill your heart With hop
and sweet desires
Nothing but love can take away your lone
Summer days once again came,
Alas, in vain full of pain
Unfortunately through vainly dirges
Summer days have passed alone
Leaving here all their pain
The loneliness still surrounded my heart
Every time when my best friend night
comes out He takes away my loneliness
even for a whiles
What stays there when the love is gone
The loneliness the shadows of smiles
The memories are gazing around
One by one are chasing each other
With woeful laughter and cry Cradling
upon the fire of my heart
Those heart desires with smiling faces
Mockingly are shaking their hands Ending
up there somewhat somewhere
The days are long when you're alone
Nothingness became the miserable
empire here and there, everywhere
Emptiness is the handsome prince of my
soul.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Last Days of Summer
Whatever the way the summer days end,
In the type of summer is how it has been,
Whether a good one or bad one,
The last days of summer,
Can be sad or happy endings,
As each season ends,
With another one beginning,
The summer could have been,
Miserable yet,
Sun scorching us everyday,
And sunlight shining on all our faces,
It is how it is,
Out there where all is seen,
In,
Summer days of fun,
Summer days of love,
Summer days of seeing,
Summer days of been,
Out and about where summer is,
And when summer came and went?
With a mundane feeling that it left?
Was the last days of summer,
And the begining of another,
Autumn as we know it,
Fall in other places,
Where the ending of one season shows,
By the decaying of it,
When Autumn Fall shows,
Where we will wrap up and snuggle,
With warm cuppas drinks,
With a book,
Or,
Catch up on watching films,
Yet,
Still,
Musing over the summer days,
Of sunshine memories,
Now,
Warm hats and gloves,
With rustle leaves,
That rustle beneath,
Our feet as we walk,
Through the park,
And see,
The summer leaves turn,
To autumn shades,
Taking in,
The last days of summer,
Reflecting,
And remember,
The falls of Autumn's,
Is the signs of summer,
That has ended,
And minglings with,
All that falls,
From the summer ending,
To autumn beginnings,
Is the,
Decaying,
Of summer,
To regrow itself,
For next season's of summer,
When it begins again,
Yet,
In between,
There's,
Autumn,
Winter,
Spring,
Till,
Again,
Last days of summer,
And all in bloom again.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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School Days
School days, school days
where did the summer go
the beaches, festivals and summer love
time to get the backpacks ready
time to move on to the next grade
see old friends, meet new one
we all hate the first day, but love the last
no more sleeping late
now all we have is due dates
days of no work, now tons of homework
study, study study
all we dread is quizzes, but its good for the wizs
no late hangouts, no more all niter's
now we all worry about fighters
we all dream for summer to come
one by one the days go by
when is there a holiday
School day, school days
give me some school breaks
poem by Michael Peterson
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A Summer's Ode
~0~
A summer's fallen from the sky, it seems,
with heat a'waving in the sultry breeze.
Though June has fled 'pon wings of time, now gone,
its goodbye echoes through the swaying trees.
And July brings its days of warmth to hold,
with sun a'melting in a sapphire sky.
O'summer's middle-aged by now, alas,
breathing fire upon the days that pass us by.
A gentle turn of earth brings August near,
with fleeting day and ever-ending night.
And July passes through the summer's rain,
its thunder heard within a season's flight.
And so, a summer's aged with sweet remorse,
with days a'dwindling down 'til chill's return.
Yet, September still must sing its last refrain,
'ere summer days of memory swiftly burn.
A summer's fallen from the sky, it seems,
with heat a'wavering as its days grow old.
Though bittersweet the parting soon will be,
goodbye echoes with a promise ~ made of gold.
~0~
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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Time And Love
Time flies. The swift hours hurry by
And speed us on to untried ways;
New seasons ripen, perish, die,
And yet love stays.
The old, old love – like sweet at first,
At last like bitter wine –
I know not if it blest or curst,
Thy life and mine.
Time flies. In vain our prayers, our tears,
We cannot tempt him to delays;
Down to the past he bears the years,
And yet love stays.
Through changing task and varying dream
We hear the same refrain,
As one can hear a plaintive theme
Run through each strain.
Time flies. He steals out pulsing youth,
He robs us of our care-free days,
He takes away our trust and truth,
And yet love stays.
O Time! take love! When love is vain,
When all its best joys die –
When only its regrets remain –
Let love, too, fly.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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When The Love Is Gone Winter Days Come!
What stays there
When the love ends
Nothing is the same
Oh how hurts this pain
Everywhere is dark,
Huge emptiness
Covered and has ebbed my soul
The sense of loneliness
Nothing can fill this rough emptiness
That has empired my soul inside
Though its summer time,
But inside me storms are howling by
Oh love you always bring the spring days
And when you are gone
Unending winter days come,
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Roses
Oh, wind of the spring-time, oh, free wind of May,
When blossoms and bird-song are rife;
Oh, joy for the season, and joy for the day,
That gave me the roses of life, of life,
That gave me the roses of life.
Oh, wind of the summer, sing loud in the night,
When flutters my heart like a dove;
One came from thy kingdom, thy realm of delight,
And gave me the roses of love, of love,
And gave me the roses of love.
Oh, wind of the winter, sigh low in thy grief,
I hear thy compassionate breath;
I wither, I fall, like the autumn-kissed leaf,
He gave me the roses of death, of death,
He gave me the roses of death.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Summer Time Blues
Try to add perfumes to your minds to meet me there,
The summer is here and it is with the blues;
You are not alone on this hot summer night.
We havethe natural fragrant to keep us going,
The summer time blues to swing with the muse;
You are not alone without the blues.
Scents for your love,
Mid-Summer-Night blues to your taste;
Enjoy the summer with the safety of numbers.
Summer time blues,
The fragrant of love to keep you going;
Summer, summer, summer time! !
Summer time blues,
The summer of a muse;
Summer time blues,
The summer of a poem;
With relationships that moves you up.
Summer time blues,
With the heat waves to crown the day;
Perfume your body to meet up to the act.
Let us visit Copacabana and Ipanema this summer,
Of the rocky promontory at sight to give you hope;
Like the summer time blues with your lover.
It is summer time,
Visit the beaches to see things for yourselves;
Summer, summer, summer time! !
Meet me there and touch me with your heart.
A summer time love with the blues,
Like the golden grape of my soul;
Summer is the essence of a colourful life.
The sense of reality in times like this,
The heat with love to share with others;
Where the hearts of lovers do meet like,
One's love never touched before.
Summer time blues is all about this muse,
A time of love to share with your lover;
Summer, summer, summer time! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Songs Of A Country Home
I
Who has not felt his heart leap up, and glow
What time the tulips first begin to blow,
Has one sweet joy, still left for him to know.
It is like early loves' imagining;
That fragile pleasure, which the Tulips bring,
When suddenly we see them, in the Spring.
Not all the gardens later royal train,
Not great triumphant Roses, when they reign,
Can bring that delicate delight again.
II
One of the sweetest hours is this;
(Of all I think we like it best
A little restful oasis,
Between the breakfast, and the post.
Just south of coffee, and of toast,
Just north of daily task and duty;
Just west of dreams, this Island gleams,
A fertile spot of peace and beauty.
We wander out across the lawn;
We idle by a bush in bloom;
The Household pets come following on;
Or if the day is one of gloom,
We loiter in a pleasant room
Or from a casement, lean and chatter.
Then comes the mail, like sudden hail,
And off we scatter.
III
When roses die, in languid August days,
We leave the Garden, to its fallen ways;
And seek the shelter of wide porticos,
Where Honeysuckle, in defiance blows
Undaunted by the Sun's too ardent rays.
The matron Summer, turns a wistful gaze
Across green valleys, back to tender Mays;
And something of her large contentment goes,
When roses die.
Yet all her subtle fascination stays
To lure us into idle sweet delays.
The lowered awning, by the hammock shows
Inviting nooks for dreaming and repose;
Oh, restful are the pleasures of those days
When roses die.
IV
The summer folk, fled back to town;
The green woods changed to red and brown;
A sound upon the frosty air
Of windows closing everywhere.
And then the log, lapped by a blaze.
Oh, what is better than these days;
With books and friends and love a-near;
Go on, gay world, but leave me here.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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