The Surprise
As there I left the road in May,
And took my way along a ground,
I found a glade with girls at play,
By leafy boughs close-hemmed around,
And there, with stores of harmless joys,
They plied their tongues, in merry noise:
Though little did they seem to fear
So queer a stranger might be near;
Teeh-hee! Look here! Hah! ha! Look there!
And oh! so playsome, oh! so fair.
And one would dance as one would spring,
Or bob or bow with leering smiles,
And one would swing, or sit and sing,
Or sew a stitch or two at whiles,
And one skipped on with downcast face,
All heedless, to my very place,
And there, in fright, with one foot out,
Made one dead step and turned about.
Heeh, hee, oh! oh! ooh! oo!—Look there!
And oh! so playsome, oh! so fair.
Away they scampered all, full speed,
By boughs that swung along their track,
As rabbits out of wood at feed,
At sight of men all scamper back.
And one pulled on behind her heel,
A thread of cotton, off her reel,
And oh! to follow that white clue,
I felt I fain could scamper too.
Teeh, hee, run here. Eeh! ee! Look there!
And oh! so playsome, oh! so fair.
poem by Ingeborg Bachmann
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Related quotes
The Surprise
As there I left the road in May,
And took my way along a ground,
I found a glade with girls at play,
By leafy boughs close-hemmed around,
And there, with stores of harmless joys,
They plied their tongues, in merry noise:
Though little did they seem to fear
So queer a stranger might be near;
Teeh-hee! Look here! Hah! ha! Look there!
And oh! so playsome, oh! so fair.
And one would dance as one would spring,
Or bob or bow with leering smiles,
And one would swing, or sit and sing,
Or sew a stitch or two at whiles,
And one skipped on with downcast face,
All heedless, to my very place,
And there, in fright, with one foot out,
Made one dead step and turned about.
Heeh, hee, oh! oh! ooh! oo!—Look there!
And oh! so playsome, oh! so fair.
Away they scampered all, full speed,
By boughs that swung along their track,
As rabbits out of wood at feed,
At sight of men all scamper back.
And one pulled on behind her heel,
A thread of cotton, off her reel,
And oh! to follow that white clue,
I felt I fain could scamper too.
Teeh, hee, run here. Eeh! ee! Look there!
And oh! so playsome, oh! so fair.
poem by William Barnes
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It Ain't Fair That It Ain't Right
Writers B. Eggers, J. Eggers
Copyright 1970
It ain't fair for you to leave me cold and cryin' in the night
It ain't fair to take your body from my arms and out of sight
It ain't fair you've gone and left me where you kissed me I still burn
Are you leaving for my loving this awful hurt and then return
It ain't fair for you to leave me alone to face the morning light
It ain't fair you took my body and then to say that it ain't right
It ain't fair you've made me your woman a no longer a good girl in your eyes
How come before you said you'd love me it ain't fair that it ain't right
It just ain't fair that it ain't right
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fair and Fair
Oenone:
Fair and fair, and twice so fair,
As fair as any may be;
The fairest shepherd on our green,
A love for any lady.
Paris:
Fair and fair, and twice so fair,
As fair as any may be;
Thy love is fair for thee alone
And for no other lady.
Oenone:
My love is fair, my love is gay,
As fresh as bin the flowers in May
And of my love my roundelay,
My merry, merry, merry roundelay,
Concludes with Cupid's curse,--
'They that do change old love for new
Pray gods they change for worse!'
Ambo Simul:
They that do change old love for new,
Pray gods they change for worse!
Oenone:
Fair and fair, and twice so fair,
As fair as any may be;
The fairest shepherd on our green,
A love for any lady.
Paris:
Fair and fair, and twice so fair,
As fair as any may be;
Thy love is fair for thee alone
And for no other lady.
Oenone:
My love can pipe, my love can sing,
My love can many a pretty thing,
And of his lovely praises ring
My merry, merry, merry roundelays
Amen to Cupid's curse.
poem by George Peele
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Winter And Summer
Come Winter, merry Winter,
Rejoice while yet you may,
For nearer, ever nearer,
Fair Summer draws each day,
And soon the tiny snowdrops
Shall waken from their sleep,
And, mossy banks from under,
The modest violets peep.
The apple trees shall scatter
Their buds at Summer's feet,
And with their fragrant odors
Make every zephyr sweet;
While Nature, of wild roses,
And lilies frail and white,
Shall make a wreath for Summer,
And crown her with delight.
Forth from the smiling heavens
Shall fall the gentle rain,
The earth shall feel her presence
And welcome her with grain;
The birds shall come and twitter,
And build amid the boughs,
So Winter, merry Winter,
While yet you may, carouse.
We love you, merry Winter,
You and the joys you bring,
And loud and long your praises
Throughout the world we sing;
But Summer, gentle Summer,
Comes shyly through the glade,
And draws all hearts to love her,
So fair is she arrayed.
We love the merry sleighing,
The swinging snowshoe tramp,
While in the clear, cold heavens
The calm moon holds her lamp,
We love the breathless coasting.
The skating and the games
Played amid shouts of laughter,
Around the hearth-fire flames.
But Summer, winsome Summer,
Holds greater stores of bliss,
When all the land awakens,
And blossoms at her kiss;
We soon shall feel her presence,
And breathe her perfumed breath,
Then, Winter, dear old Winter,
We will not mourn your death.
poem by Arthur Weir
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Threnos
IN o more for us the little sighing.
No more the winds at twilight trouble us.
Lo the fair dead!
No more do I burn.
No more for us the fluttering of wings
That whirred in the air above us.
Lo the fair dead!
No more desire flayeth me,
No more for us the trembling
At the meeting of hands.
Lo the fair dead!
No more for us the wine of the lips,
No more for us the knowledge.
Lo the fair dead!
No more the torrent,
No more for us the meeting-place
(Lo the fair dead!)
Tintagoel.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Fiddle Riddle
Once stood a man on my face
Ooh yeah, on my face
Gobbled him up cause my taste
Leaves nothing to waste
Hear the riddle that I say
Hear the riddle that I say
What is fair is fair
That is fair and square
To me
Piano it marks the good pace
Ooh yeah, the good pace
Dont know if its right, but I like the bass
So turn up the bass
Hear the fiddles as they play
Hear the fiddles as they play
What is fair is fair
And the guitar player
No metal, no brick, was no trace
Oh, no, was no trace
But machines moved on and still chased
No particular place
Hear the riddle that I say
Hear the riddle that I say
What is fair is fair
That is fair and square
To me
What is fair is fair
That is fair and square
To me
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Storm.
I can hear the great boughs swing
Through the stormy night,
Each a dryad-haunted thing
With its dark delight,
As within an old-world air
When the Gods were everywhere.
All the wood seems to be up
At some eerie play,
Wild as Bacchanals whose sup
Had all through the day
Been a deep one, as they roar
With the waves upon the shore.
'Tis in sooth as Pan, too, mad
For fair Syrinx fled,
Had from Hades come, and had
Brought with him the dead
Who of old had worshipped him
To a midnight revel grim.
Or is it that Syrinx too,
From the reed restored,
Romps it as the satyrs do
With her now-loved lord?
And is this the night of nights,
And are these their marriage rites?
Who shall say? The great boughs swing,
As Time in a whirl
Did to the dark forest bring
The goat-god and his girl,
With the earth-enamoured crew
For a mystic hour or two.
Till amid the tumult I
Fall asleep, like one
Who had put the ages by
In a dream begun
Far back in another sphere,
Ere my 'wildered soul came here!
Ah! the dream that may indeed
Outlive all I know,
When like one whom Fate has freed
I through Hades go,
And see the great vision cast
On the future by the past.
poem by Robert Crawford
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The Rose is not fair
THE rose is not fair without the beloved's face,
Nor merry the Spring without the sweet laughter of wine;
The path through the fields, and winds from a flower strewn place,
Without her bright check, which glows like a tulip fine,
Nor winds softly blowing, fields deep in corn, are fair.
And lips like to sugar, grace like a flower that sways,
Are nought without kisses many and dalliance sweet;
If thousands of voices sang not the rose's praise,
The joy of the cypress her opening bud to greet,
Nor dancing of boughs nor blossoming rose were fair.
Though limned by most skilful fingers, no pictures please
Unless the beloved's image is drawn therein;
The garden and flowers, and hair flowing loose on the breeze,
Unless to my Lady's side I may strive and win,
Nor garden, nor flowers, nor loose flying curls are fair.
Hast seen at a marriage-feast, when the mirth runs high,
The revellers scatter gold with a careless hand?
The gold of thy heart, oh Hafiz, despised doth lie,
Not worthy thy love to be cast by a drunken band
At the feet of her who is fairer than all that's fair.
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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A Fair Go Of Anyone We Should Not Deny
Those who judge people by their colour or their creed or their race
The spirit of the fair go could never embrace
But eventually the reality they have to face
That in the twenty first century for their sort of thinking there isn't a place.
Of what I say here to all races apply
A fair go of anyone we should not deny
Those who are prejudiced towards others in their ways are small
Long live the great beauty in a fair go for all.
As we know prejudice and racism is only based on ignorance and fear
And of such negative stuff I don't wish to read of or hear
Their thinking is out of touch and it would seem fair to say
That it is out of place in the World of today.
One fact in black, brown and white and facts never lie
Is that we are mere mortals and born to die
And whoever you are you deserve a fair go
And may happiness and luck in your life you do know
poem by Francis Duggan
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Oh, Fair To See
Oh, fair to see
Blossom-laden cherry tree,
Arrayed in sunny white;
An April day's delight,
Oh, fair to see!
Oh, fair to see
Fruit-laden cherry tree,
With balls of shining red
Decking a leafy head,
Oh, fair to see!
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Seven Sisters
Or, The Solitude Of Binnorie
SEVEN Daughter had Lord Archibald,
All children of one mother:
You could not say in one short day
What love they bore each other.
A garland, of seven lilies, wrought!
Seven sisters that together dwell;
But he, bold Knight as ever fought,
Their Father, took of them no thought,
He loved the wars so well.
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!
Fresh blows the wind, a western wind,
And from the shores of Erin,
Across the wave, a Rover brave
To Binnorie is steering:
Right onward to the Scottish strand
The gallant ship is borne;
The warriors leap upon the land,
And hark! the Leader of the band
Hath blown his bugle horn.
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!
Beside a grotto of their own,
With boughs above them closing,
The Seven are laid, and in the shade
They lie like fawns reposing.
But now, upstarting with affright
At noise of man and steed,
Away they fly to left, to rightÑ
Of your fair household, Father-knight,
Methinks you take small heed!
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!
Away the even fair Campbells fly,
And, over hill and hollow,
With menace proud, and insult loud,
The youthful Rovers follow.
Cried they, 'Your Father loves to roam:
Enough for him to find
The empty house when he comes home;
For us your yellow ringlets comb,
For us be fair and kind!'
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!
Some close behind, some side to side,
Like clouds in stormy weather;
They run, and cry, 'Nay, let us die,
And let us die together.'
A lake was near; the shore was steep;
There never foot had been;
They ran, and with a deperate leap
Together plunged into the deep,
Nor ever more were seen.
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!
The stream that flows out of the lake,
As through the glen it rambles,
Repeats a moan o'er moss and stone,
For those seven lovely Campbells.
Seven little Islands, green and bare,
Have risen from out the deep:
The fishers say, those sisters fair,
By faeries all are buried there,
And there together sleep.
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!
poem by William Wordsworth
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Left For Dead On The Road Of Love
Chorus:
Well I've been left for dead on the road of love.
I was doin' high speed with a load of love
Forgot the first creed in the code of love.
All's fair in love and war.
Verse 1:
Well I'm an honest man and I try to be true.
I did unto her like I'll do unto you.
Now you prefer to tell me we're through.
I'm bleedin' through my shirt and tie.
I'm bleedin' and I'll tell you why.
(Chorus)
Verse 2:
Well now who is the guy and when did he come?
When did he start to go beatin' your drum?
Well he's hittin' on you. I'm feelin' numb
And she don't believe a word I told her.
I'm cryin' on a gravel shoulder.
(Chorus)
Bridge:
Watch what you're doin'.
Look where you're goin'.
Give me a signal.
Some way of knowin'.
Well now who's at the wheel in the life that drove by.
I could swear it was her made me shift into high.
She's got those dangerous curves
And they're wrackin' my nerves
She always wiggles and swerves.
She's gonna give her driver everything he deserves.
Verse 3:
Well now who could want this to lie here alone
With a palate of bricks, a pillow of stone.
Well to think that one kiss pulled me out o' my zone
And I wonder what's the change inside her?
This road has got a long divider.
(Chorus)
All's fair in love and war.
All's fair in love and war.
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vields by Watervalls
When our downcast looks be smileless,
Under others' wrongs an' slightens,
When our daily deeds be guileless,
An' do meet unkind requitens,
You can meake us zome amends
Vor wrongs o' foes, an' slights o' friends;-
O flow'ry-gleaded, timber-sheaded
Vields by flowen watervalls!
Here be softest airs a'blowen
Drough the boughs, wi'zingen drushes,
Up above the streams, a-flowen
Under willows, on by rushes.
Here below the bright-zunned sky
The dew-bespangled flow'rs do dry,
In woody-zided, stream-divided
Vields by flowen watervalls.
Waters, wi' their giddy rollens;
Breezes wi' their playsome wooens;
Here do heal, in soft consolens,
Hearts-a-wrung wi' man's wrong doens.
Day do come to us as gay
As to king ov widest sway,
In deaisy-whiten'd, gil'cup-brightened
Vields by flowen watervalls.
Zome feair buds mid outlive blightens,
Zome sweet hopes mid outlive sorrow,
A'ter days of wrongs an' slightens
There mid break a happy morrow.
We mid have noo ea'thly love;
But God's love-tokens vrom above
Here mid meet us, here mid greet us,
In the vields by watervalls.
poem by William Barnes
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The Two Swans
There's a big park just close to where we live —
Trees in a row
And shaggy grass whereon the dead leaves blow.
And in the middle round a great lagoon
The fair yachts sail
In loveliness that makes the water pale.
Last night I went to walk along the road
Beside the park
And feel the kisses of the wintry dark.
It's the best place to watch the evening come
For mists are there
And lights and shadows and the lake is fair
And last night looking up I saw two swans
Fly overhead
With long black necks and their white wings outspread.
Above the houses citywards they went,
An arrowy pair
In secret — white and black and dark and fair.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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A Song
Steal from the meadows, rob the tall green hills,
Ravish my orchard's blossoms, let me bind
A crown of orchard flowers and daffodils,
Because my love is fair and white and kind.
To-day the thrush has trilled her daintiest phrases,
Flowers with their incense have made drunk the air,
God has bent down to gild the hearts of daisies,
Because my love is kind and white and fair.
To-day the sun has kissed the rose-tree's daughter,
And sad Narcissus, Spring's pale acolyte,
Hangs down his head and smiles into the water,
Because my love is kind and fair and white.
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
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The Fair Is Moving On
All the rides are over and done
It's late and no prizes are left to be won
The rides are closed, it's the end of the day
The horses are moving away
Yes the fair's moving on
And I'll soon be gone
Remember the love that we've known
Yes the fair's moving on
But I won't leave you long
It's the last time you'll be on your own
The music has ended, the carousel's still
The horses in boxes with the big Ferris wheel
The canvass and glitter are safely on board
The trailers will soon hit the road
Yes the fair's moving on
And I'll soon be gone
Remember the love that we had
Yes the fair's moving on
But I won't leave you long
I'm coming back so please don't be sad
At dawn I'll be gone but I'll soon return
Till then the fair's moving on
Till then the fair's moving on
Till then the fair's moving on
Till then the fair's moving on
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Quail's Nest
I wandered out one rainy day
And heard a bird with merry joys
Cry 'wet my foot' for half the way;
I stood and wondered at the noise,
When from my foot a bird did flee--
The rain flew bouncing from her breast
I wondered what the bird could be,
And almost trampled on her nest.
The nest was full of eggs and round--
I met a shepherd in the vales,
And stood to tell him what I found.
He knew and said it was a quail's,
For he himself the nest had found,
Among the wheat and on the green,
When going on his daily round,
With eggs as many as fifteen.
Among the stranger birds they feed,
Their summer flight is short and low;
There's very few know where they breed,
And scarcely any where they go.
poem by John Clare
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Sonnet LXIV: Ardour And Memory
The cuckoo-throb, the heartbeat of the Spring;
The rosebud's blush that leaves it as it grows
Into the full-eyed fair unblushing rose;
The summer clouds that visit every wing
With fires of sunrise and of sunsetting;
The furtive flickering streams to light re-born
'Mid airs new-fledged and valorous lusts of morn,
While all the daughters of the daybreak sing:—
These ardour loves, and memory: and when flown
All joys, and through dark forest-boughs in flight
The wind swoops onward brandishing the light,
Even yet the rose-tree's verdure left alone
Will flush all ruddy though the rose be gone;
With ditties and with dirges infinite.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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The Wreath Of Forest Flowers
In a fair and sunny forest glade
O’erarched with chesnuts old,
Through which the radiant sunbeams made
A network of bright gold,
A girl smiled softly to herself,
And dreamed the hours away;
Lulled by the sound of the murmuring brook
With the summer winds at play.
Jewels gleamed not in the tresses fair
That fell in shining showers,
Naught decked that brow of beauty rare
But a wreath of forest flowers;
And the violet wore no deeper blue
Than her own soft downcast eye,
Whilst her bright cheek with the rose’s hue
In loveliness well might vie.
But she was too fair to bloom unknown
By forest or valley side,
And long ere two sunny years had flown,
The girl was a wealthy bride—
Removed to so high and proud a sphere
That she well at times might deem
The humble home of her childhood dear
A fleeting, changeful dream.
No more her foot sought the grassy glade
At the break of summer day;
No more neath the chesnut spreading shade
In reverie sweet she lay;
But in abodes of wealth and pride,
With serious, stately mien,
That envy’s rancorous tongue defied,
She now alone was seen.
But was she happier? Who might know?
Wealth, fortune, on her smiled;
Yet there were some who whispered low
That she, fates favored child,
Oft pressed her brow with a weary hand,
In gay and festive hours,
And fain would change her jewell’d band
For a wreath of forest flowers.
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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My Garden Fair
Flowers are blooming in
my garden fair. Their
sweet perfume fills the
air. My Garden fair is
beautiful to see., with all
its glory surrounding me.
My garden fair is romantic
and bright, and so redeeming
in sunlight where song birds
nestle in the trees, and sing
with each flowing breeze.
My garden fair is a glorious
sight, that I rush to greet
at twilight my garden fair is
most supreme with such lovely
enchanting scenes.
poem by Dr. Janice Marie Murrell
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