En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Water Lily

A lonely young wife
In her dreaming discerns
A lily-decked pool
With a border of ferns,
And a beautiful child,
With butterfly wings,
Trips down to the edge of the water and sings:
‘Come, mamma! come!
‘Quick! follow me—
‘Step out on the leaves of the water-lily!’
And the lonely young wife,
Her heart beating wild,
Cries, ‘Wait till I come,
‘Till I reach you, my child!’
But the beautiful child
With butterfly wings
Steps out on the leaves of the lily and sings:
‘Come, mamma! come!
‘Quick! follow me!
‘And step on the leaves of the water-lily!

And the wife in her dreaming
Steps out on the stream,
But the lily leaves sink
And she wakes from her dream.
Ah, the waking is sad,
For the tears that it brings,
And she knows ’tis her dead baby’s spirit that sings:
‘Come, mamma! come!
‘Quick! follow me!
‘Step out on the leaves of the water-lily!’

poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lily Adair

On the beryl-rimmed rebecs of Ruby,
Brought fresh from the hyaline streams,
She played, on the banks of the Yuba,
Such songs as she heard in her dreams.
Like the heavens, when the stars from their cyries
Look down through the ebon night air,
Were the groves by the Ouphantic Fairies
Lit up for my Lily Adair—
For my child-like Lily Adair—
For my heaven-born Lily Adair—
For my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.

Like two rose-leaves in sunshine when blowing,
Just curled softly, gently apart,
Were her lips by her passion, while growing
In perfume on the stalk of her heart.
As mild as the sweet influences
Of the Pleiades 'pregning the air—
More mild than the throned Excellencies
Up in heaven, was my Lily Adair—
Was my Christ-like Lily Adair—
Was my lamb-like Lily Adair—
Was my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.

At the birth of this fair virgin Vestal,
She was taken for Venus' child;
And her voice, though like diamond in crystal,
Was not more melodious than mild.
Like the moon in her soft silver splendor,
She was shrined in her own, past compare,
For no Angel in heaven was more tender
Than my beautiful Lily Adair—
Than my dove-like Lily Adair—
Than my saint-like Lily Adair—
Than my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.

Thus she stood on the arabesque borders
Of the beautiful blossoms that blew
On the banks of the crystalline waters,
Every morn, in the diaphane dew.
The flowers, they were radiant with glory,
And shed such perfume on the air,
That my soul, now to want them, feels sorry,
And bleeds for my Lily Adair—
For my much-loved Lily Adair—
For my long-lost Lily Adair—
For my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.

poem by Thomas Holley Chivers (1853)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Lily-white Child

lily white child
hallow to thy fair
the twinklin bliss of thy eye
and beatific expression of thy face
to thy sublime innocent
in d spectrum of thy beauty

Ooh lily-white child
thy aesthetic opulency
like nebula of stars
in the terrain of rainbow

lily white child
smile like of heaven wide
sapphire teeth of angel
hallow to thy halo pure

lily white child
pure like distilled water.

poem by Samuel Francis Leumas
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-75

Spider lily(Beach spider lily
Hymenocallis littoralis)

Calm and lovely, she's Spider Lily
White and peace she's Spider Lily
Pristine and pure she's Spider Lily
Silent and certain she's Spider Lily

There, up above the fanning leaves
Asunder below staminal cup she's
Overflowing her nectarian streams
Mind-blowing her aura measureless

Sacred tepals lofty with beauty
Stamens atop splurging as deputy
There goes heaven's sweet ditty
Miss not a white goddess pretty

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Lily Licked the Toilet

Lily licked the toilet,
And then she licked the floor.
You can bet I'll never
Kiss Lily anymore!
Lily licked the toilet,
And then she licked the sink.
She's full of germs and worms,
At least that's what I think.
Lily licked the toilet,
And then she licked the tub.
It's safe to say her tongue
Could use a real good scrub!
She was the cutest pooch! (To Smooch)
Why'd she have to spoil it?
Nothing's been the same since…
Lily licked the toilet!

poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-51

Football Lily(Blood Lily, Powderpuff Lily
Scadoxus multiflorus ssp., Haemanthus multiflorus)

Many are earthbound
Some are heavenbound
Like queen Nishagandhi
You too FootBall Lily

Descend to ascend shortly
Spiking bright graciously
Umbel-headed of blossoms
Awesomely in hundreds

Bulbous stemming solitary
Sunny for a week monitory
Aesthetic once in a year
Dormant rest of the year

Short-stalked leaves cease
Back to heaven when you race
Stored bulbs of your power
Await your flare by next tear

Like queen Nishagandhi
You too FootBall Lily
Many are earthbound
Some are heavenbound

poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Lily of St Leonards

’TIS sunrise over Watson,
Where I sailed out to sea,
On that wild run to London
That wrecked and ruined me.
The beauty of the morning
On bluff and point and bay,
But the Lily of St Leonards
Was fairer than the day.

O Lily of St Leonards!
And I was mad to roam—
She died with loving words for me
Three days ere I came home.

As fair as lily whiteness,
As pure as lily gold,
And bright with childlike brightness
And wise as worlds of old.
Her heart for all was beating
And all hearts were her own—
Like sunshine through the Lily
Her purity was shown.

O Lily of St Leonards!
My night is on the track,
’Tis well you never lived to see
The wreck that I came back.

A leaden sky shuts over
A sobbing leaden sea,
For the Lily of St Leonards
Is never more for me.
I seek the wharf of Outward
Where the deck no longer thrills
Where she stood with great tears starting
Like the lights on dark wet hills.

The world was all before me
The laurels on my brow—
’Twas the world-star of the rovers,
’Tis the Star of Exile now.

poem by Henry Lawson
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-61

Peruvian lily(Lily-of-the-Incas,
Alstroemeria spp.)

Fabulous of a Princess charming
South of Bharath crowned having

Butterflied of wings designed
Skirted of a fashion designed

From wheely tubers umbrella-like
Petaled ornamental orchid-like

Lush and limply leaves all twisted
Lush and bushy flowers little curled

Big and small petals mostly six
In and out three-three artly fix

poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pictures Of Lily

I used to wake up in the morning
I used to wake up in the morning
I used to feel so bad
I used to feel so bad
I got so sick of having sleepless nights
I got so sick of having sleepless nights
I went and told my dad
I went and told my dad
He said, son now heres some little something
He said, son now heres some little something
And stuck them on my wall
And stuck them on my wall
And now my nights aint quite so lonely
And now my nights aint quite so lonely
In fact i, I dont feel bad at all
In fact i, I dont feel bad at all
Pictures of lily made my life so wonderful
Pictures of lily made my life so wonderful
Pictures of lily helped me sleep at night
Pictures of lily helped me sleep at night
Pitcures of lily solved my childhood problems
Pitcures of lily solved my childhood problems
Pictures of lily helped me feel alright
Pictures of lily helped me feel alright
Pictures of lily
Pictures of lily
Lily, oh lily
Lily, oh lily
Lily, oh lily
Lily, oh lily
Pictures of lily
Pictures of lily
And then one day things werent quite so fine
And then one day things werent quite so fine
I fell in love with lily
I fell in love with lily
I asked my dad where lily I could find
I asked my dad where lily I could find
He said, son, now dont be silly
He said, son, now dont be silly
shes been dead since 1929
Shes been dead since 1929
Oh, how I cried that night
Oh, how I cried that night
If only Id been born in lilys time
If only Id been born in lilys time
It would have been alright
It would have been alright
Pictures of lily made my life so wonderful
Pictures of lily made my life so wonderful
Pictures of lily helped me sleep at night
Pictures of lily helped me sleep at night
For me and lily are together in my dreams
For me and lily are together in my dreams
And I ask you, hey mister, have you ever seen
And I ask you, hey mister, have you ever seen
pictures of lily?
Pictures of lily?

song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Garden Of Girls

KATE is like a violet, Gertrude's like a rose,
Jane is like a gillyflower smart;
But Laura's like a lily, the purest bud that blows,
Whose white, white petals veil the golden heart.
Girls in the garden--one and two and three--
One for song and one for play and one--ah, one for me!
Gillyflowers and violets and roses fair and fine,
But only one a lily, and that one lily mine!

Bertha is a hollyhock, stately, tall, and fair,
Mabel has the daisy's dainty grace,
Edith has the gold of the sunflower on her hair,
But Laura wears the lily in her face.
Girls in the garden--five and six and seven--
Three to take, and three to give, but one--ah! one is given--
Hollyhocks and daisies, and sunflowers like the sun,
But only one a lily, and that one lily won.

poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Lament For Shuil Donald’s Daughter

I.

IN old Shuil Donald's cottage there are many voices weeping,
And stifled sobs, and murmurings of sorrow wild and vain,
For the old man's cherish'd blessing on her bed of death lies sleeping,--
The sleep from which no human wish can rouse her soul again.
Oh, dark are now those gentle eyes which shone beneath their lashes
So full of laughter and of love--it seems but yesterday--
Well may Shuil Donald mourn beside his hearth's forsaken ashes,
His lily of the valley is wither'd away!
II.

The spring shall come to other hearts with breezes and with showers,
But lonely winter still shall reign in old Shuil Donald's home;
Others may raise the song of joy, and laugh away the hours,
But he--oh! never more may joy to his lone dwelling come.
Her name shall be an empty sound, in idle converse spoken,
Forgotten shall she be by those who mourn her most to-day--
All, all but one, who wanders with his Highland spirit broken,
His lily of the valley is wither'd away!
III.

And he--long, long, at even-tide, when sunset rays are gleaming,
That sad old man shall sit within his lonely cottage door,
Desolate, desolate shall sit, and muse with idle dreaming
On days when her returning step came quick across the moor.
Oh! never more her quiet smile, her cheerful voice of greeting,
Shall rouse to warmth his aged heart, when darkly sinks the day--
Never, oh! never more on earth those loved ones may be meeting--
His lily of the valley is wither'd away!

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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The Lily and the Bee

I Looked upon the lilies
When the morning sun was low,
And the sun shone through a lily
With a softened honey glow.
A spot was in the lily
That moved incessantly,
And when I looked into the cup
I saw a morning bee.
“Consider the lilies!”
But, it occurs to me,
Does any one consider
The lily and the bee?

The lily stands for beauty,
Use, purity, and trust,
It does a four-fold duty,
As all good mortals must.
Its whiteness is to teach us,
Its faith to set us free,
Its beauty is to cheer us,
And its wealth is for the bee.

“Consider the lilies!”
But, it occurs to me,
Does any one consider
The lily and the bee?

poem by Henry Lawson
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The White Lily

By the river bank
The frogs croak and caress
Hoping along the river bank
From here to there
At a distant
The swallows twitter with fondness

The lilies rupture with the morning sun
The water reeds sway
As the wind blows along
The river bank

But yet....i feel lost
In this scenery of dexteric desires
I feel caught in lifes pedestals

Tender steps i make....
Along the river bank...
Lilies..
The white lily...
That symbolise
The purity of those souls
Enmeshed in lovesframe

The white lily
That symbolise
The fire that burns within circles
The white lily that symbolises
Long lost desires
Re-invented and rejuvenated
In this river of dexteric desires

The white lily
So white...so pure...

By the river bank
I watch the white lily float and dance
Along the river waters

Their is tenderness in the river
The fishes swim with tenderness
The waters flowing
With a lovers moan

Rythmic drums can be heard from afar
Magic everywhere
I sit and stare at the white lily
With a longing yen....
By the river bank.

poem by Jack Shaka
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The Star And The Water Lily

THE SUN stepped down from his golden throne,
And lay in the silent sea,
And the Lily had folded her satin leaves,
For a sleepy thing was she;
What is the Lily dreaming of?
Why crisp the waters blue?
See, see, she is lifting her varnished lid!
Her white leaves are glistening through!

The Rose is cooling his burning cheek
In the lap of the breathless tide; —
The Lily hath sisters fresh and fair,
That would lie by the Rose's side;
He would love her better than all the rest,
And he would be fond and true; —
But the Lily unfolded her weary lids,
And looked at the sky so blue.

Remember, remember, thou silly one,
How fast will thy summer glide,
And wilt thou wither a virgin pale,
Or flourish a blooming bride?
'O the rose is old, and thorny, and cold,
And he lives on earth, ' said she;
'But the Star is fair and he lives in the air,
And he shall my bridegroom be.'

But what if the stormy cloud should come,
And ruffle the silver sea?
Would he turn his eye from the distant sky,
To smile on a thing like thee?
O no, fair Lily, he will not send
One ray from his far-off throne;
The winds shall blow and the waves shall flow,
And thou wilt be left alone.

There is not a leaf on the mountain-top
Nor a dropp of evening dew,
Nor a golden sand on the sparkling shore,
Nor a pearl in the waters blue,
That he has not cheered with his fickle smile,
And warmed with his faithless beam, —
And will he be true to a pallid flower,
That floats on the quiet stream?

Alas for the Lily! she would not heed,
But turned to the skies afar,
And bared her breast to the trembling ray
That shot from the rising star;
The cloud came over the darkened sky,
And over the waters wide:
She looked in vain through the beating rain,
And sank in the stormy tide.

poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Lily-Bell and Thistledown Song II

Thistledown in prison sings:

Bright shines the summer sun,
Soft is the summer air;
Gayly the wood-birds sing,
Flowers are blooming fair.
But, deep in the dark, cold rock,
Sadly I dwell,
Longing for thee, dear friend,
Lily-Bell! Lily-Bell!

Lily-Bell replies:

Through sunlight and summer air
I have sought for thee long,
Guided by birds and flowers,
And now by thy song.

Thistledown! Thistledown!
O'er hill and dell
Hither to comfort thee
Comes Lily-Bell.

poem by Louisa May Alcott
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Lily

Here is Lily
I am for Lily only
And Lily
Am dying daily

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-60

Asiatic lily(Asiatic hybrid lily
Lilium x asiatica)

Deceptive your buds far farther
Like water lily as they look
In closer sight but true lilies
Divine really anywhere nearer

Ofcourse fragrant little mild
Some scentless albeit colourful
Leaves strappy on stems upright
Blossoms big and small and hybrid

Hybridized just to feast the eyes
Nay, the soul red, purple and white
Pink of blossoms bigger Oriental
In closer sight divine all lilies

Hybridized colourful to look better
Nay, sweeter gold, orange and white
Pink of blossoms smaller Asiatic
Divine naturally really so closer

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Sweet Mama Blue

Written by orbison/melson.
I know a place in new orleans.
They call the castle of kings and queens.
Where an old sweet black woman sings.
And plays piano like a dream.
She puts out all her beautiful heart and soul for you.
Sweet mamma blue.
Sweet mamma blue will only sing about the truth.
And it will get to you.
Sweet mamma blue will sing of love as only she can do.
Sweet mamma blue.sweet mamma blue
One night I stayed past closing time.
Sweet mamma blue my troubled mind.
She sang the night away for me.
She made me see what I couldnt see.
That only by loving life will all your dreams come true.
Sweet mamma blue.
Sweet mamma blue will only sing about the truth.
And it will get to you.
Sweet mamma blue will sing of love as only she can do.
Sweet mamma blue.sweet mamma blue.
They say shes gone from misery.
But she still lives in my memory.
I still can see her smile and say
Ill bet you make it all the way.
If you will try the lord will surely see you through
.
Sweet mamma blue,
The world sure will miss you.
And when I feel blue I think of you.
Sweet mamma blue.sweet mamma blue.
Sweet mamma blue...

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn comes [Întomnare]

The stars mirrored by the lake, among water lily leaves,
Turned the lake into a glade, fire flies into small stars,
And this glade appears to glow, as if amber snow receives,
Because golden drops stand out like the tips of lit cigars.

When the lucent night puts on a fair vestment in this hush,
The frogs stop to wail at once and keep silent for a while;
And the moon on water, lo, like a saint begins to rush,
Withering the frightened leaves with its wry and deadly smile.

poem by Al. O. Teodoreanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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The Easter Lily

A little child, as winter turned to spring,
Tended a lily-plant with patient care,
Thinking, when she should see it blossoming,
To set it on the chancel-step; that there,
When Easter dawned on Lent, the spotless thing
Might on the feast-day be her offering,
Lifting its own white face to One more fair.

But, as the plant grew upward day by day,
Raising itself from earth towards the sky,
So seemed the child from earth to draw away,
The while she feared to see the lily die;
Unthinking that, ere broke the Easter ray,
She might her own white soul before Him lay
For Whom she sought the flower to sanctify.

Time passed. The lily bloomed not; and the night
Before the feast had come. And so the child
Sent to the church the cherished plant, despite
’T was but an unblown bud; and—reconciled
That on the altar-step, midst flowers white,
Her poor green stalk watched out the silent flight
Of hours until the morn—contented smiled.

• • • • • • • •

Fair broke the dawn upon the altar’s hem
Of lilies, breathing Easter greeting sweet;
But, with the night that so perfected them,
The child’s own spirit fled, the Light to meet
Beyond the heaven’s roseate diadem;
And, with the morning, bloomed upon the stem
The fair, white soul her own had longed to greet!

poem by Guy Wetmore Carryl from The Garden of Years and Other Poems (1893)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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When The Leaves Come Falling Down

I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face
And you were thinking bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
And at night the moon is shining on a clear, cloudless sky
And when the evening shadows fall Ill be there by your side
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place beside the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space before the twilight and the dawn
Oh, the last time I saw paris in the streets, in the rain
And as I walk along the boulevards with you, once again
And the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place between the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space between the twilight and the dawn
And as Im looking at the colour of the leaves, in your hand
As were listening to chet baker on the beach, in the sand
When the leaves come falling down,
Woe in september, when the leaves come falling down
Oh when the leaves come falling down
Yeah in september when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falting down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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