En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Garden

Hiding under the hill,
Heavy with trailing robes and tangled veils of green,
Till only its little haggard face was visible,
The garden lay shy and wistful,
Lovelorn for summer departing,
Blowing its little trickling fountain tune into the air.
And over all, hushing, soothing,
Lay the clematis
Like early snow.

poem by Harriet Monroe
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The Garden

My heart is a garden tired with autumn,
Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark,
In the hazy sunshine, the garden remembers April,
The drench of rains and a snow-drop quick and clear as a spark;

Daffodils blowing in the cold wind of morning,
And golden tulips, goblets holding the rain --
The garden will be hushed with snow, forgotten soon, forgotten --
After the stillness, will spring come again?

poem by Sara Teasdale
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Waiting For the Snow

Waiting for the Snow
When the leaves turn golden
And the geese fly south
Where will I be?

When the wind turns cold
And the bear is in hiding
Where will I be?

When the streams are frozen
And the rabbits’ color turning
Where will I be?

When the leaves begin to fall
And the northern cardinals stay
Where will I be?

When the nuts fall down
And squirrels store walnuts
Where will I be?

When the corn is harvested
And the deer seek shelter
Where will I be?

When the grass is brown
And the pheasants are flying
Where will I be?

I will be riding before the wind
And winging t’ward the sun
Flying from the snow

I will be waiting for spring
And sleeping till then
Hiding from the snow

I will be hiding till I’m white
And searching the ground for food
Waiting for the snow

I will be looking for berries
And singing merrily
Waiting for the snow

I will be saving acorns
And jumping form tree to tree
Waiting for the snow

I will be searching fields for corn
And hiding in thickets
Waiting for the snow

I will be hiding under grass
And calling out loud
Waiting for the snow

poem by Ivy Schex
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Summer Breeze

See the curtains hanging in the window
In the evening on a Friday night
A little light shining through the window
Lets me know that everything's alright
Summer breeze, well it makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
Summer breeze, makes me feel fine
Blowing through my, makes me feel it right
Making me feel, making me feel fine
Makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
Oh sweet days of summer, the jasmine's in bloom
July is dressed up and playing her tune
And when I come home from a hard day's work
And you're waiting there, yes you're waiting there
Without A care in the world
I see the smile awaiting in the kitchen
Food's cooking and a place there for two
I see the arms that reach out to hold me
In the evening when the day is through
Summer breeze, well it makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
Summer breeze, makes me feel fine
Blowing through my, making me feel right
Making me feel, making me feel fine
Makes me feel right
Blowing through the jasmine in my, blowing blowing(x5)
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind

song performed by by Jason Mraz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behind Every Gross Appearance Has Invisible Subtle!

Isn't it true
neither moon nor universe, not
even I or you are visible without the
invisible in us.
Visible all are, only because of
that more invisible in us! Behind every visible gross
appearance, there is more
invisible subtle appearance,
When we look at the picture,
We usually forget the canvas,
When watching a TV program, usually we can't see how
invisible electrons produce the
image.

I cannot see my own face,
just as God hides his face to us...
Therefore, could it be that we
have one and the same face?

our face is one of His face,
Yet as he can look at his other
faces using one that he can't see,
We are looking at our other faces
using this one, That we can't see,
This is the truth that The God
uses this face to look at other
faces! Yet we visible to that invisible,
And we are visible only due to
that invisible ground on which
whole world play,
World itself is visible face of that
invisible face, Every life become visible only
because of that who hides is face
behind beauty and ugly faces
alike!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Delayed till she had ceased to know

58

Delayed till she had ceased to know—
Delayed till in its vest of snow
Her loving bosom lay—
An hour behind the fleeting breath—
Later by just an hour than Death—
Oh lagging Yesterday!

Could she have guessed that it would be—
Could but a crier of the joy
Have climbed the distant hill—
Had not the bliss so slow a pace
Who knows but this surrendered face
Were undefeated still?

Oh if there may departing be
Any forgot by Victory
In her imperial round—
Show them this meek appareled thing
That could not stop to be a king—
Doubtful if it be crowned!

poem by Emily Dickinson
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Little Blond Plaits

This is the garden that I know
Ten thousand summers wait me here
You lead and I will follow
Your heart is my tomorrow
Into your womb, I fade away
And while she laughs
Your pride is turning into snow
And melting on the face
Of this light of hope
Shine on, light of hope
Light of hope
And while she laughs
Your pride is turning into snow
And dancing on the graves
Of what you though you used to know
And in this garden
I will burn my callous robes
And forever love my darling
Light of hope

song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In June In Old Liscreagh

In a lush damp meadow in Liscreagh
In a rushy clump the brown hare lay
From predators well hid away
He doze and sleep for most of the day.

And at twilight he ventures out
For to graze in the pasture fields about
And under the starry cloak of night
He eats his fill in peace and quiet.

It's early Summer in Liscreagh
And badger and her cubs in the twilight gray
Through fields and meadows amble slow
And dig for grubs and earth worms by hedgerow.

And after early morning showers
The old fields in their Summer flowers
In the noon sunshine look fresh and green
And Nature at her best is seen.

And meadows mown for silage and hay
Scent sweetly in June in old Liscreagh
And dark winged swallows in the sky
All day long chirping as they fly.

And butterflies as white as snow
From tree to hedge flit to and fro
And in leafy grove the chaffinch sing
In his own territory he's king.

From Coolikerane bog across the way
The curlew's flute heard in Liscreagh
And robin pipes his lively tune
In Summer's early days in June.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Light Of Hope

This is the garden that I know
Ten thousand summers wait me here
You lead and I will follow
Your heart is mine tomorrow
Into your womb I fade away
And while she laughs
Your pride is turning into snow
And melting on the face of this light of hope
Shine on, light of hope
Light of hope
And while she laughs
Your pride is turning into snow
And dancing on the graves of what you thought you used to know
And in this garden I will burn my callous robes
And forever love my darling
Light of hope

song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Land of snow

I dreamt of a land, a land so high,
A land of snow which touches the sky,
Where the rivers are born, and torn apart
To wash the sins of many eyes.

On the snowy hill, where the waters chilled,
Would touch my lips, have my thirst killed,
I sit and bite on the blowing wind
And have in me some snow filled.

The dream broke with a sudden blow,
Oh! An upheavel on the top floor,
I get off my bed and wet my face,
And walk on my land of no snow.

poem by Shouvik Roy
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Summer Rainbows

It's that beautiful summer sky..
Like blue raspberries
I dare to try...
Freshly squeezed home made orange tropicana...
To wash down my yellow banana...
Ruby red cherries
How sweet the summer berries..
Dark green rhines
Of sweet red watermelon..
The perfect scenario of heaven...
The perfect summer rainbow...
There are sweet little secrets
In our green crowded garden...
They do grow...
So the next time
You look into that beautiful summer sky
With your fruitful eyes...
Take a bite of that summer rainbow
In your garden
Just below..

poem by Saundra Diamante
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The Moors

NOT in rich glebe and ripe green garden only
Does Summer weave her sweet resistless spells,
But in high hills, and moorlands waste and lonely,
The vast enchantment of her presence dwells.
Wide sky, and sky-wide waste of thyme and heather,
Perpetual sleepy hum of golden bees--
If you and I were only there together,
Free from the weight of all your garden's trees!

The north is mine; though bred by elm and meadow,
Pines, torrents, rocks, and moors my heart loves best;
I love the plover's wail, the cleft hill's shadow,
The sun-browned grass that is the skylark's nest.
Ah, yes! you too I love, dear wistful pleader,
You most I love, dear southern rose, half-blown,
And rather lounge with you beneath your cedar,
Than greet the moor's wide heaven-on-earth alone.

poem by Edith Nesbit
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When You Have Nothing To Say But Simply Look At Things

you feast upon facts.
and facts dance around you
showing the best that they can be
though not as beautiful
as always
for at times facts can be so
damn hurting.

and when hurt
you feel the uselessness of words
that like daggers
may have only the function of stabbing
you more

you bleed and you look at yourself
so helplessly
bleeding

you have nothing to say
you remember only one thing
and this they notice
with glee

you keep on looking at the injury
your hands busy wiping
the blood

your mouth blowing the pain away
hushing
soothing.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Calendar

Winter:
Inside the embers glow in the grate
While the garden quietly suffocates in snow.

Spring:
The ice is melting!
The snow forgets what the birds remember,
A living root dispels December!

Summer:
The heat disfigures the soil.
The sun glares angrily
Till the clouds sweat tears.

Autumn:
Summer is over,
The moon strips the trees of leaves
And paints their bark with silver starlight.

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Those Green Fields Of Kilmeedy

Those green fields of Kilmeedy I do remember still
They meet the gorse and bracken at the foot of Clara hill
A place of peace and beauty with mountains all around
Scarce touched by man's pollution where Nature's joys abound.

Even in summer in Kilmeedy the dawn comes with a chill
But skylark he is piping above the bracken hill
Through Spring and through the Summer he sings all through the day
And I fancy I can hear him o'er mountains far away.

The robin he is piping on flowering hawthorn tree
Across the miles of distance his music comes to me
And dunnock on the hedgerow and dipper in the stream
And song thrush piping gaily on ash by old bohreen.

All through the Spring and Summer the wildering flowers are seen
But green fields of Kilmeedy not always quite so green
In November and December the winds of Winter blow
And January and February bring frost and sleet and snow.

In mid March in Kilmeedy the first wildflowers appear
And weather still quite chilly though days of bloom are near
But April brings her blossoms and leaves behind her green
And May comes o'er the mountain the summer beauty queen.

Those green fields of kilmeedy I see them every day
And I hear the skylark piping o'er hillsides far away
And dunnock on the hedgerow and the dipper in the stream
And those green fields of Kilmeedy have never looked so green.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Age

An animal face in the brown green

Glows shyly to me, the bushes smolder.

Very far away an old fountain sings

With children's voices. I listen there.

The wild jackdaws mock me

And all around the birches veil themselves.

I stand silent before a weed fire

And softly pictures paint themselves on it,

An ancient fairytale of love on golden ground.

The clouds spread their silence on the hill.

From the ghostly pond-mirror

Fruits beckon, shining and heavy.

poem by Georg Trakl
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Tangled In Love

By marcy levy and richard feldman
A modern man with an old-fashioned heart.
One look at her and I fell apart.
I was always the one playing it cool.
I got caught in the act, now theres no turning back.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
I got caught up, bought up, strangled, tangled in love.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
A long black dress and the call of the wild.
I was a fool to think she was just a child.
Out of my mind, out of control.
Knew that feeling too well, tried to run but I fell.
Chorus
I never meant to feel this way,
Now I always want to stay...
Chorus
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.

song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Piper On The Hills

A CHILD'S SONG
There sits a piper on the hill
Who pipes the livelong day,
And when he pipes both loud and shrill,
The frightened people say
‘The wind, the wind is blowing up,
'Tis rising to a gale.’
The women hurry to the shore
To watch some distant sail.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Is blowing to a gale.
But when he pipes all sweet and low,
The piper on the hill,
I hear the merry women go
With laughter, loud and shrill
‘The wind, the wind is coming south,
'Twill blow a gentle day.’
They gather on the meadow-land,
To toss the yellow hay.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Is blowing south to-day.

And in the morn, when winter comes,
To keep the piper warm,
The little Angels shake their wings
To make a feather storm
‘The snow, the snow has come at last!’
The happy children call,
And ‘ring around’ they dance in glee,
And watch the snowflakes fall.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Has spread a snowy pall.
But when at night the piper plays,
I have not any fear,
Because God's windows open wide
The pretty tune to hear;
And when each crowding spirit looks,
From its star window-pane,
A watching mother may behold
Her little child again.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
May blow her home again.

poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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Looking, Watching, Waiting

It's Winter now,
And everything is cold and bare.
Used to be lush and green,
Covered in leaves.

The snow is melting.
It's getting warmer.
Spring is on it's way.

Now Spring has come
The snow has all melted,
And the trees are getting more leaves.
It's warm now,
And i can't wait for Summer to arrive.

Summer is finally here!
I go outside and run barefoot through the streets.
Windows are open and the birds are singing.
Summer is finally here!

Now Summer is gone, and Fall is in the air.
Soon it will get colder,
And i will once again be looking, watching, waiting,
For Summer's arrival.

poem by Vi Lanflagle
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The Plow

Outside my window the snow is white,
a winter mist I see so bright.
I hear through chrystals snow on snow,
a distant engine of a plow.

The chrystals falling from the sky,
in a way which I can’t tell you why
On the ground there is heavy snow
the plow is getting nearer now

The window sticks just like a stamp
against my fingers, cold and damp.
I see the sight of untouched snow,
I see the fountain of the plow.

The plow went by ten minutes ago
back is now a usable road
I hear through chrystals, snow on snow;
the distant engine of the plow

poem by Espen Øye Bjørkvold
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Winter Song

The browns, the olives, and the yellows died,
And were swept up to heaven; where they glowed
Each dawn and set of sun till Christmastide,
And when the land lay pale for them, pale-snowed,
Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed.

From off your face, into the winds of winter,
The sun-brown and the summer-gold are blowing;
But they shall gleam with spiritual glinter,
When paler beauty on your brows falls snowing,
And through those snows my looks shall be soft-going.

poem by Wilfred Owen
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