Proud Songsters (Terzanelle)
Birds sing while the day is dying
black-collard barbets, finches and doves in pairs
with sincere sweet voices crying,
in beauty raising my arm hairs,
acknowledging the beginning of spring
black-collard barbets finches, and doves in pairs
in profound beauty sing
before all other beings knowing,
acknowledging the beginning of spring
as if the winter at last is going,
without any further resistance
before all other beings knowing,
smelling the rain in the distance
singing to their hearts content, bright and clear
without any further resistance,
claiming that spring and summer is near.
Birds sing while the day is dying,
singing to their hearts content, bright and clear
with sincere sweet voices crying.
[Reference: Proud Songsters by Thomas Hardy.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
Doves fly past in pairs
Doves fly from sunrise
until late afternoon past in pairs
and the whole day their singing resounds
and just before the rainstorm comes (out of season)
the air is full of swallows
sweeping up and down
catching insects.
starlings, sparrows and finches scream
as if the end of this autumn,
is already the beginning of spring
where they are eating blue-black berries
in evergreen trees
and it’s as if nature
knows something secret about this winter.
The rays of the sun are now measured out much cooler
but the grass still has its green colour
and there are irises
which flowers out of season
from all the rain
and the giant sage bush
is covered with purple clusters
hanging in strings
and early in the mornings when I get up later
the black-collard barbet knocks me awake
asking screeching
when I am going to get up
and I look at him
where he endlessly are scolding me
and I wonder
why the birds
are suddenly so jolly?
or do they know
that the season
is at the edge of change
and that man with pollution
is causing irreparable damage?
poem by Gert Strydom
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At night sometimes, sweet voices I hear (Terzanelle)
At night sometimes, sweet voices I hear,
distant angels, glorified beings
singing in my dreams, from another sphere
rejoicing at the happenings
in the whole of creation, glorifying the king.
Distant angels, glorified beings
sing with powerful voices that ring,
acknowledging his blessing,
in the whole of creation, glorifying the king
as if endlessly pressing
their voices like flowers in a holy book
acknowledging his blessing
rejoicing of the great deeds that he undertook,
about his transfiguration from almighty God to mere man,
their voices like flowers in a holy book,
sing about his love filled plan.
At night sometimes, sweet voices I hear,
about his transfiguration from almighty God to mere man,
singing in my dreams, from another sphere.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Day That The First Rain Comes In Spring
The day that the first rain comes in spring
they say then all of the birds sing,
with not a cloud is in the sky
while the sun is shining,
that they sing their praises with voices that ring
and on that day there’s a great blessing
but while I look on a bright spring day,
there was no rain falling,
while the birds did twitter and play.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Something About The Girl Called Spring (Sonnet Corona)
I
Just after winter you are back enchanting
with unfolding blossoms on hot sunny days
playing your roles in all your beautiful ways
as if every day is a grand setting
with colours and smells alluring, inviting
man, animals and insects to stray
in orchards, gardens and in the veldt to play
wherever you may be wandering
while insects and birds sing sweet melodies,
even the breeze is charming
in the season that you bequeath
that becomes a time of sweet memories
while everywhere life is swarming;
flowers are as fragrant as your breath.
II
Flowers are as fragrant as your breath
and outside the sun does shine
where flowers and insects ephemeral awaits death
living just as small specs of the will divine.
There are tales about flowers and butterflies that you tell,
about all the minute things, before the first shadows fall
but you have to mention the Creator as well
who fathered everything, created all.
His gardens fill the earth in sheer exuberance
while in summer and spring, in daylight hours
bees, butterflies and birds dance
around the fragrant flowers
in their winged flight,
from early twilight.
III
From early twilight
you are everywhere sent
until the dark night
for the whole world’s enjoyment
and flowering fair
you dance along
without a moment to spare
singing a cheerful song
as a seasonal creature being sweet,
dressed very serene
dancing with fairly like feet
as the essence of the productive machine
and nature everywhere tells,
spring is awaking in smells.
IV
Spring is awaking in smells
with birds singing
rising from the valleys and dells,
sounding in joy about the beauty she is bringing
even every bird, deer and bee,
as the blessings have come
as a time of tranquillity to some
until all of nature is happy and free
when love is finally finding its home
and spring is especially dear to me,
in the air above there’s a vibrant hue
as if it’s a living kind of blue
specked with flocks of birds in their flight;
spring is dressed in white.
V
Spring is dressed in white,
dressed for her wedding day,
when she blesses wherever her flowers stray
in celebration in every day and night
while she dances from early morning light
inviting all her guests, the birds and bees to play,
while she lingers everything is gay
in colours jubilant and bright
with butterflies filling the air,
humming yellow and black bees,
even joined by flying birds that in joy sing
roaming among the almond, peach and pear,
flying to and fro from the blue gum trees
in the unfolding of spring.
VI
In the unfolding of spring
it came to my mind
the words, the deeds and every thing,
of the troublesome kind
that man does to his fellow human beings
as if he is inclined
to act only to his own interest without any feelings,
as if so designed
but around me the new awakenings
are totally unrestrained
in days and evenings
with beauty that is gained
while everywhere flowers are rising,
I long for an eternal spring’s blessing.
VII
I long for an eternal spring’s blessing
as if the Godly plan
in a place where everything is living,
is still in effect for man,
where the songs of birds through the hubbub ring
as if the singing birds are right here
bringing pleasure to everything
making existing so sweet and sincere,
as if from the very beginning
the Lord God was near,
even before human beings were sinning
when these joyous songs fall on the ear:
.
with all of the love that God is granting,
just after winter you are back enchanting.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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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Tuvvi Tuvvi
SERENADING THE SEASON OF SPRING WITH SMILES
ARE THE BIRDS SINGING MELODY OF TUVVI TUVVI
DANCING TO THE BEAUTY OF BLOOMING DAFFODILS
ARE THE LEAVES IN THE WIND WHISTLING TUVVI TUVVI
USHERING THE WARM SUNSHINE OF THE SPRING
ARE THE WALTZING SHADOWS SINGING TUVVI TUVVI
BORDERING THE GREEN GRASS ALL AROUND BEAMING
ARE THE SWAYING TREES SINGING TUVVI TUVVI
WELCOMING THE BRIGHT SPRING IS THE BEAUTIFUL MORNING
REFLECTING ITS LIGHT ON FLOWING STREAMS OF SINGING TUVVI TUVVI
SEEING THE SIGNS OF NEW LIFE PRAISING
ARE THE GRATEFUL HEARTS SINGING TUVVI TUVVI
BLOOMING ARE THE FLOWERS IN SPRING COLORS
INVITING THE BEES BUZZING TUVVI TUVVI
FILLING THIS WORLD WITH SWEET SOUNDS OF LAUGHTER
ARE THE CHILDREN SINGING TUVVI TUVVI
Transalation of Poem by KUVEMPU
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
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A Day Without You
I missed you the other day...
...When the sky was blue-oh so blue-
Why the sun was out shining so bright-so very bright-
...And all i could think about was you;
Isn't it funny what love does to our hearts?
...Making us all giddy-so giddy and light-
Raising our spirits to the top-the very top-
...Making our world seem amazingly bright;
Wondering where you are on this day...
...A day where the sparrows sing-they sing so sweet-
Where the first flowers of Spring bloom-really bloom-
...Knowing having you here would make me complete;
poem by Theodora Onken
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September's Brought The Spring
The golden whistler whistles on the gray gum tree
And lyrebird in good mood for mimicry
And magpie piping in the morning gray
And currawong tell rain not far away.
I love the hills of Sherbrooke in the Spring
When wattles bloom and all the free birds sing
The voice of yellow tailed black cockatoo
And spotted dove utter his mating coo.
The rhododendrons flushed with bright pink flowers
And the trees look greener after cool spring showers
September brings with it rich greenery
And nest building birds prepare for family.
Were I a bard born with the gift of rhyme
I'd write a song for Sherbrooke in Springtime
And I'd sing my song that some might wish to hear
Of Sherbrooke in September of the year.
The yellow robin singing in the wind and rain
And the sky turn bright and the sun shine out again
And in Sherbrooke woods the wild and free birds sing
And September's come and brought with it the Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Could The Spring Come Back Again
could the spring come back again or never
after we are accostumed to a harsh, white, frozen winter
the frozen sticks melted from the fringes
of the roofs
the hot rays of sun
are glitttering from the horizon
someone lit the light
somr sparrows and finches began to fly
on the yellow brown dog thistles
could the spring come back again
nobody knows how ı love my sisters
in their shields
protecting themselves
figthing with the harshness of life
defending themselves
walking like soldiers on roads
with big soldier bags on shoulders
prams fulll of children
some crying
some playing
some laughing
some sleeping in silence
could the spring come again
with her green leaves
multi color flowers
and singing birds
the little pretty girls
cladf in lovely dresses
may be twins
like lovely winter flowers
their mother in the midst
walking in the streets
telll me somebody
could spring come again
as in my young days
where and when
ı used to sing songs
poem by Metin Sahin
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A November Note
Why, throstle, do you sing
In this November haze?
Singing for what? for whom?
Deem you that it is Spring,
Or that your lonely lays
Will stave off Winter's gloom?
Then did the bird reply:
``I sing because I know
That Spring will surely come:
That is the reason why,
Though menaced by the snow,
Even now I am not dumb.
``But few are they that hear,
And fewer still that feel,
The meaning of my song,
Until the note be clear,
Re-echoed be the peal,
Early, and late, and long.
``But you have heard and owned
The sound of my refrain,
Yet tentative and low.
Thus, poet, be intoned
Your own foreshadowing strain,
Trusting that some will know:
``That some will know and say,
When greetings of the Spring
Wake Winter from its bed,
This is the self-same lay
We overheard him sing
When dead hearts deemed him dead.''
poem by Alfred Austin
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Sing To Me
Sing to me! Something of sunlight and bloom,
I am so compassed with sorrow and gloom,
I am so sick with the world’s noisse and strife, -
Sing of the beauty and brightness of life –
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing to me! Something that’s jubilant, glad!
I am so weary, my soul so sad.
All my earth riches are covered with rust,
All my bright dreams are but ashes and dust.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing og the blossoms that open in spring,
How the sweet flowers blow, and the long lichens cling,
Say, though the winter is round about me,
There are bright summers and springs yet to be.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing me a song full of hope and of truth,
Brimming with all the sweet fancies of youth!
Say, though my sorrow I may not forget,
I have not quite done with happiness yet.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Lay your soft fingers just here, on my cheek;
Turn the light lower – there- no, do not speak,
But sing! My heart thrills at your beautiful voice;
Sing till I turn from my grief and rejoice.
Sing to me, sing to me!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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In Autumn
The leaves are many under my feet,
And drift one way.
Their scent of death is weary and sweet.
A flight of them is in the grey
Where sky and forest meet.
The low winds moan for sad sweet years;
The birds sing all for pain,
Of a common thing, to weary ears,--
Only a summer's fate of rain,
And a woman's fate of tears.
I walk to love and life alone
Over these mournful places,
Across the summer overthrown,
The dead joys of these silent faces,
To claim my own.
I know his heart has beat to bright
Sweet loves gone by;
I know the leaves that die to-night
Once budded to the sky;
And I shall die from his delight.
O leaves, so quietly ending now,
You heard the cuckoos sing.
And I will grow upon my bough
If only for a spring,
And fall when the rain is on my brow.
O tell me, tell me ere you die,
Is it worth the pain?
You bloomed so fair, you waved so high;
Now that the sad days wane,
Are you repenting where you lie?
I lie amongst you, and I kiss
Your fragrance mouldering.
O dead delights, is it such bliss,
That tuneful Spring?
Is love so sweet, that comes to this?
Kiss me again as I kiss you;
Kiss me again;
For all your tuneful nights of dew,
In this your time of rain,
For all your kisses when Spring was new.
You will not, broken hearts; let be.
I pass across your death
To a golden summer you shall not see,
And in your dying breath
There is no benison for me.
There is an autumn yet to wane,
There are leaves yet to fall,
Which, when I kiss, may kiss again,
And, pitied, pity me all for all,
And love me in mist and rain.
poem by Alice Meynell
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A Sign From Nature
When you hear the blackbird singing in the warmth of a Summer's day
It is a sign from Nature that rain is on the way
Since blackbirds are natural Spring songsters in Summer their songs tell of rain
From listening to Nature's wildborn creatures weather insights we do gain
Birds can be Nature's weather forecasters of such instances quite a few
But to that you may even say tell us something that is new
Of Nature's many wonders we do become aware
But she has many secrets that with us she'll never share
The blackbird one of Nature's leading songsters in the green Season of Spring
But before rain in Summer he too is known to sing
One of Nature's many weather forecasters of weather change birds know
At the ways of our Earth Mother our wonder only grow
When in the warmth of a Summer's day the blackbird's song you hear
It is a sign from Nature that rain is very near.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Beauty of Spring
The Beauty of Spring
I am looking out of a glass window.
I see a group of cherry blossom trees in the distance.
Nearby, there is a quaint little house.
This magnificence takes my breathe away.
The Beauty of Spring.
Daffodils are blooming.
Butterflies are fluttering through the air.
Robins are singing there beautiful song.
The world is coming back to life after a long winter.
The Beauty of Spring.
A gentle breeze skims across my face.
I inhale the sweet scent of flowers.
I see a world of gorgeous and vivid colors.
I absolutely love spring.
The Beauty of Spring.
I am Taking in The Beauty of Spring
poem by Bleeding Heart
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Blooming
Spring already
Flowers blooming
Birds humming
Sing their sweet
Sweet song
The air
Full of blossoms
Blooming flowers..
Blooming plants…
Blooming love
Spring is clean..
Spring is fresh…
Spring is that new beginning
We pray for in the end
poem by Alexsis Daniels
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The Primrose (Novelinee)
Quite early in spring it is flowering,
delicate flowers on an erect stem
while all the birds in excitement sing,
at the beginning of spring I see them,
there is something in its simple beauty,
drawing big butterflies that do flutter,
is given in love, respect and duty,
in the colour of yellow-white butter,
bringing sweet words that other can utter.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The unsung death
Once there were singing birds with me.
Then it was my spring.
Then there were perching birds with me.
Then it was my summer.
Then there were pecking birds with me.
It was my autumn.
Now there are woodpeckers with me.
It is my winter, the end.
Those who know my greens will not be there
To sing my glory in the funeral.
Those who would be present at funeral,
Haven’t seen my greens to sing.
30.05.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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To His Lady
(Who asked a Song in Spring)
WHY do you bid your poet sing,
Who has no mind to song--
Who only wants to see the Spring,
Long sought and tarrying long?
The shivering, dreary winter through
My song enshrined my vow;
If then my songs were sweet to you,
Let me be silent now!
Have I not duly sung, my dear,
Your goodness and your grace?
Now that your rival, Spring, is here,
O let me see her face!
The hedge is white with buds of May,
The fields are green with Spring,
Oh, give your bard a holiday:
He does not want to sing!
He wants to listen; all alone,
He wants to steal away
To hear the ring-doves' tender tone,
And what the thrushes say.
He wants to hear what can't be heard
When you and love are near--
The sweet Spring's soft and secret word;
Oh, let him go, my dear!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Spring Song III
HERE'S the Spring-time, Sweet!
Earth's green gown is new,
Lambs begin to bleat,
Doves begin to coo,
Birds begin to woo
In the wood and lane;
Sweet, the tale is true
Spring is here again!
I have been discreet
All the winter through;
Now, before your feet,
Blossoms let me strew.
Flowers, as yet, are few;
Will my lady deign
Take this flower or two?
Spring is here again
Make the year complete,
Give the Spring her due!
All the flowers entreat,
All the song-birds sue.
'Twixt the green and blue
Let Love wake and reign,
Let me worship you--
Spring is here again!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Spring In Victoria
The bottlebrushes laden with crimson flowers
And there is warmth in the October breeze
And with her Spring has brought her blooms and greenery
And birds are singing on the sunlit trees.
Spring in Victoria my favourite time of year
The birds build their nests and raise their families
The weather not too cool or not too warm
A high today of 17 degrees.
The distinct call sounds of the magpie lark
And the Indian mynah sings his scratchy song
Some birds are easy to identify
And by their voices you never get them wrong.
Spring in Victoria is a time of bloom
And sun shines brightly after the brief showers
The fruit trees cloaked in blossoms of pale pink
And gardens look resplendent in their flowers.
My favourite season is always the spring
And spring in Victoria is now in her prime
The wild birds sing and gardens are in bloom
But Nature's beauty fades with the passage of time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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