En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Amethysts

My eyes forgot the heavens’ blue,
To them the sun’s dust is not gold,
But I live just one substance through,
That’s to the amethyst’s planes owned.

‘Cause that that, drunker than young spring
And troubling stronger than idea,
The lilac fires have to sing
And coldly play with colors here.

And for the heart with pain and shame,
A dream comes, tender and deceiving:
As a crystal in the candles’ flame,
To stay in cold of lilac singing.

poem by Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lilac And Gold And Green

Lilac and gold and green!
Those are the colours I love the best,
Spring's own raiment untouched and clean,
When the world is awake and yet hardly dressed,
And the stranger sun, her bridegroom shy,
Looks at her bosom and wonders why
She is so beautiful, he so blest.

Lilac and green and gold!
Those were the colours you wore to--day,
Robed you were in them fold on fold,
Clothed in the light of your love's delay.
And I held you thus in my arms, once only,
And wondered still, as you left me lonely,
How the world's beauty was changed to grey.

Lilac and gold and green!
I would die for the truth of those colours true!
Lilac for loyalty, gold for my queen,
And green the faith of my love for you.
Here is a posy of all the three.
My heart is with it. So think of me,
And our weeping skies shall once more be blue.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Lilac blossoms in May

Only in a fantastic rosy May
When magical lilac trees blossom
We remember that awesome day,
The day we like again to welcome.

Oh, how sweet lilac stupefy fragrance!
How tender the lilac flowers petals are!
They are flowers from the old romance,
They are so gentle and look so like stars.

Lilac bouquet is the marvelous one
With so many little beauties.
Any woman will feel their aroma and fun,
They will tell about love being so cuties.

Is the time of the youth in a fairy-tale?
It’s again come to life here in May.
And the fragments of grief as in a tale
With the fragrance of lilac will fly away.

Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)

poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Shakespeare Memorial

Lord Lilac thought it rather rotten
That Shakespeare should be quite forgotten,
And therefore got on a Committee
With several chaps out of the City,
And Shorter and Sir Herbert Tree,
Lord Rothschild and Lord Rosebery,
And F.C.G. and Comyn Carr
Two dukes and a dramatic star,
Also a clergy man now dead;
And while the vain world careless sped
Unheeding the heroic name --
The souls most fed with Shakespeare's flame
Still sat unconquered in a ring,
Remembering him like anything.

Lord Lilac did not long remain,
Lord Lilac did not some again.
He softly lit a cigarette
And sought some other social set
Where, in some other knots or rings,
People were doing cultured things.
-- Miss Zwilt's Humane Vivarium
-- The little men that paint on gum
-- The exquisite Gorilla Girl . . .
He sometimes, in this giddy whirl
(Not being really bad at heart),
Remembered Shakespeare with a start --
But not with that grand constancy
Of Clement Shorter, Herbert Tree,
Lord Rosebery and Comyn Carr
And all the other names there are;
Who stuck like limpets to the spot,
Lest they forgot, lest they forgot.

Lord Lilac was of slighter stuff;
Lord Lilac had had quite enough.

poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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A bunch of lilac and a storm of hail

A bunch of lilac and a storm of hail
On the same afternoon! Indeed I know
Here in the South it always happens so,
That lilac is companioned by the gale.
I took some hailstones from the window sill
And swallowed them in a communion feast.
Their transitory joy is mine at least,
The lilac's loveliness escapes me still.
Mine are the storms of spring, but not the sweets.

poem by Lesbia Harford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I would come back

I would come back

but the roads are hidden.

Though many times were ridden

they haven't left any tracks.

I would come as a spring dawn

breaking the winter's yearning,

greeting the beauty of the morning,

the first flowers on the lawn.

I would come as a tender rain,

as an April thaw in springs.

I would grow big wings

but the idea is inane and brings pain.

I would come as a lilac sunset,

as silver or amber early dew.

I would become a real mew,

fly to you and sing a duet.

poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Lilac Wine

James shelton
I lost myself on a cool damp night
Gave myself in that misty light
Was hypnotized by a strange delight
Under a lilac tree
I made wine from the lilac tree
Put my heart in its recipe
It makes me see what I want to see...
And be what I want to be
When I think more than I want to think
Do things I never should do
I drink much more that I ought to drink
Because I brings me back you...
Lilac wine is sweet and heady, like my love
Lilac wine, I feel unsteady, like my love
Listen to me... I cannot see clearly
Isnt that she coming to me nearly here?
Lilac wine is sweet and heady wheres my love?
Lilac wine, I feel unsteady, wheres my love?
Listen to me, why is everything so hazy?
Isnt that she, or am I just going crazy, dear?
Lilac wine, I feel unready for my love...

song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lilac Wine

I lost myself on a cool damp night
I gave myself in that misty light
Was hypnotized by a strange delight
Under a lilac tree
I made wine from the lilac tree
Put my heart in its recipe
It makes me see what I want to see
And be what I want to be
When I think more than I want to think
Do things I never should do
I drink much more that I ought to drink
Because it brings me back you
Lilac wine is sweet and heady,
Like my love
Lilac wine, I feel unsteady,
Like my love
Listen to me, I cannot see clearly
Isnt that she, coming to me
Nearly here
Lilac wine is sweet and heady,
Wheres my love
Lilac wine, I feel unsteady,
Wheres my love
Listen to me, why is everything so hazy
Isnt that she, or am I just going crazy, dear
Lilac wine, I feel unready for my love
Feel unready, for my love.

song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everybody Here Wants You

Twenty-nine pearls in your kiss
A singing smile
Coffee smell and lilac skin
Your flame in me
Twenty-nine pearls in your kiss
A singing smile
Coffee smell and lilac skin
Your flame in me
Im only here for this moment
I know everybody here wants you
I know everybody here thinks he needs you
Ill be waiting right here just to show you
How our love will blow it all away
Hmm, such a thing of wonder in this crowd
Im a stranger in this town
Youre free with me
And our eyes locked in downcast love
I sit here proud
Even now youre undressed in your dreams with me
Oh, Im only here for this moment
I know everybody here wants you
I know everybody here thinks he needs you
Ill be waiting right here just to show you
How our love will blow it all away
I know the tears we cried
Have dried on yesterday
The sea of fools has parted for us
Theres nothing in our way
My love
Dont you see, dont you see?
Youre just the torch to put the flame to all our guilt and shame
And Ill rise like an ember in your name
I know i, I know i
I know everybody here wants you
I know everybody here thinks he needs you
Ill be waiting right here just to show you
Oh let me show you
That love can rise, rise just like embers
Love can taste like the wine of the ages, oh babe,
And I know they all looks so good from a distance
But I tell you Im the one
I know everybody here, well, thinks he needs you
Think he needs you
And Ill be waiting right here just to show you.

song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Somebody brought in lilac

Somebody brought in lilac,
Lilac after rain.
Isn't it strange, belovéd of mine
You'll not see it again?
Lilac glad with the sun on it
Flagrant fair from birth,
Mourns in colour, belovéd of mine,
You laid in the earth.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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That The Rain Rains On

I stand by the grave the old-time grave

In the drift of the falling rain ;
My heart goes back to an afternoon

In the spring of life again,
When mother was carried the churchyard thro',

When April was dead and gone ;
And a voice said ' Happy, happy, happy,

Happy the corpse that the rain rains on.'

My heart went back much further yet,

To a time when mother and I
Stood out on the wet and the shining grass,

While above was the clearing sky ;
She plucked a lilac all drooping wet

And dark with its perfume on,
' The lilac is sweet the lilac is sweet,

The lilac is sweet that the rain rains on.'

Boy as I was when mother died,

I stole thro' the creeping wet,
And placed in her dear white hands a bunch

Of lilacs and mignonette ;
And the rain fell soft in the May morn light

Her glistening coffin on ;
And the voice said ' Happy, happy, happy,

Happy tbe corpse that the rain rains on.'

poem by Robert Kirkland Kernighan
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A Song of the Lilac

Above the wall that's broken,
And from the coppice thinned,
So sacred and so sweet
The lilac in the wind!
And when by night the May wind blows
The lilac-blooms apart,
The memory of his first love
Is shaken on his heart.

In tears it long was buried,
And trances wrapt it round;
O how they wake it now,
The fragrance and the sound!
For when by night the May wind blows
The lilac-blooms apart,
The memory of his first love
Is shaken on his heart.

poem by Louise Imogen Guiney
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Love Come To Me

Love, come to me in rose of red,
to lie upon my loveless bed ~
now filled with thorns of passions past,
into the wind, the thorns I cast.

Love, come to me in lilac hue,
with scented breath of lilac blue
and essence of love's lost repast ~
into the wind, lost love I cast.

Love, come to me in leaves of green,
with greening leaves of emerald sheen ~
awaiting in the brambling bough,
into the wind, I cast love now.

Love, come to me in yellowed fields,
lined with the golden daffodils ~
awaiting love to come along,
into the wind, I cast love's song.

Love, come to me in rose of red,
to rest and dream upon my bed ~
with scented breath of lilac blue
and daffodils of golden hue.

Love, come to me in nature's light.
It pleasures me with every sight ~
of red, and blue, and golden hue,
into the wind, I cast love true.

poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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Playboy

I greet the challenge of the dawn
With weary, bleary eyes;
Into the sky so ashen wan
I wait the sun to rise;
Then in the morning's holy hush,
With heart of shame I hear
A robin from a lilac bush
Pipe pure and clear.

All night in dive and dicing den,
With wantons and with wine
I've squandered on wild, witless men
The fortune that was mine;
The gold my father fought to save
In folly I have spent;
And now to fill a pauper's grave
My steps are bent.

See! how the sky is amber bright!
The thrushes thrill their glee.
The dew-drops sparkle with delight,
And yonder smiles the sea.
Oh let me plunge to drown the pain
Of love and faith forgot:
Then purged I may return again,
--Or I may not.

poem by Robert William Service
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Lilac Was Here

Lilac was here
And it’s been struck
I know I’m sure
For I can see the ashes in the ground
Can smell the fear of the flower
A deeply burnt silence can be heard
Of a thousand of little torches
That night has swallowed

Lilac was here
Fragrances are pure
Unspotted by a thunder or any other sound
Taken by the hands of some terrible power
To dwell unspoken in any single word
Through the seven landmark arches
That I have followed
In vain

Lilac was here
I know its mark
And now it’s gone
Where to or why
I’ll never know
Dwelling in the dark
Before the dawn
To touch the sky
Some place else to grow?
Insane?

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Awaken with par pain

i pull off each of my vocal
to hinder this pain of betrayal
each nerve to surrender in quest
of this crackling pain, the deepest

hundreds of colors embrace me
now and then to swallow this pain
my eyes closed in this melody
of pain blooming a lie 'i'm alone'

life is so remorse in this pain
flying away with the heart of theology
a creeper of sorrow tightening
to stay in every minute fighting

singing out songs of silence
in confusions devoid of cheese
trolling prior to pain in a race,
i forgot to mention sweetness next to pain! !

poem by Swetha Vvr
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The Gold And Beyond

On a snow crystal morning
Some place close to heaven
On the side of a mountain
In a race for the sun
In a matter of moments
The dream of a lifetime is won
There's a fire in the heart
And it feels like the hunger
The spirit is burning
Consumed by the flame
To be one of the best
Of the best in the world
Is its name
To go faster and farther
Than anyone ever before
To be braver and stronger
And truer than ever before
To be all that you can be
And all that you've ever longer for
In the eyes of the mountain
All people are equal
In the eyes of all people
Our souls can be seen
In the course of our struggle
We'll know what humanity means
To be all that you can be
And all that you've ever longed for
We gather together
To face one another
We gather in silence
And sing for the sun
We gather in peace
To go for the gold and beyond

song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Message

Wind of the gentle summer night,
Dwell in the lilac tree,
Sway the blossoms clustered light,
Then blow over to me.

Wind, you are sometimes strong and great,
You frighten the ships at sea,
Now come floating your delicate freight
Out of the lilac tree,

Wind you must waver a gossamer sail
To ferry a scent so light,
Will you carry my love a message as frail
Through the hawk-haunted night?

For my heart is sometimes strange and wild,
Bitter and bold and free,
I scare the beautiful timid child,
As you frighten the ships at sea;

But now when the hawks are piercing the air,
With the golden stars above,
The only thing that my heart can bear
Is a lilac message of love.

Gentle wind, will you carry this
Up to her window white
Give her a gentle tender kiss;
Bid her good-night, good-night.

poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Barrel-Organ

There's a barrel-organ carolling across a golden street
In the City as the sun sinks low;
And the music's not immortal; but the world has made it sweet
And fulfilled it with the sunset glow;
And it pulses through the pleasures of the City and the pain
That surround the singing organ like a large eternal light;
And they've given it a glory and a part to play again
In the Symphony that rules the day and night.

And now it's marching onward through the realms of old romance,
And trolling out a fond familiar tune,
And now it's roaring cannon down to fight the King of France,
And now it's prattling softly to the moon.
And all around the organ there's a sea without a shore
Of human joys and wonders and regrets;
To remember and to recompense the music evermore
For what the cold machinery forgets...

Yes; as the music changes,
Like a prismatic glass,
It takes the light and ranges
Through all the moods that pass;
Dissects the common carnival
Of passions and regrets,
And gives the world a glimpse of all
The colours it forgets.

And there La Traviata sighs
Another sadder song;
And there Il Trovatore cries
A tale of deeper wrong;
And bolder knights to battle go
With sword and shield and lance,
Than ever here on earth below
Have whirled into--a dance!--

Go down to Kew in lilac-time, in lilac-time, in lilac-time;
Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!)
And you shall wander hand in hand with love in summer's wonderland;
Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!)

The cherry-trees are seas of bloom and soft perfume and sweet perfume,
The cherry-trees are seas of bloom (and oh, so near to London!)
And there they say, when dawn is high and all the world's a blaze of sky
The cuckoo, though he's very shy, will sing a song for London.

The nightingale is rather rare and yet they say you'll hear him there
At Kew, at Kew in lilac-time (and oh, so near to London!)
The linnet and the throstle, too, and after dark the long halloo
And golden-eyed tu-whit, tu-whoo of owls that ogle London.

For Noah hardly knew a bird of any kind that isn't heard
At Kew, at Kew in lilac-time (and oh, so near to London!)
And when the rose begins to pout and all the chestnut spires are out
You'll hear the rest without a doubt, all chorusing for London:--

Come down to Kew in lilac-time, in lilac-time, in lilac-time;
Come down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!)
And you shall wander hand in hand with love in summer's wonderland;
Come down to Kew in lilac-time (is isn't far from London!)

And then the troubadour begins to thrill the golden street,
In the city as the sun sinks low;
And in all the gaudy busses there are scores of weary feet
Marking time, sweet time, with a dull mechanic beat,
And a thousand hearts are plunging to a love they'll never meet,
Through the meadows of the sunset, through the poppies and the wheat,
In the land where the dead dreams go.

Verdi, Verdi, when you wrote Il Trovatore did you dream
Of the City when the sun sinks low,
Of the organ and the monkey and the many-coloured stream
On the Piccadilly pavement, of the myriad eyes that seem
To be litten for a moment with a wild Italian gleam
As A che la morte parodies the world's eternal theme
And pulses with the sunset-glow?

There's a thief, perhaps, that listens with a face of frozen stone
In the City as the sun sinks low;
There's a portly man of business with a balance of his own,
There's a clerk and there's a butcher of a soft reposeful tone,
And they're all of them returning to the heavens they have known:
They are crammed and jammed in busses and--they're each of them alone
In the land where the dead dreams go.

There's a labourer that listens to the voices of the dead
In the City as the sun sinks low;
And his hand begins to tremble and his face is rather red
As he sees a loafer watching him and--there he turns his head
And stares into the sunset where his April love is fled,
For he hears her softly singing and his lonely soul is led
Through the land where the dead dreams go...

There's a barrel-organ carolling across a golden street
In the City as the sun sinks low;
Though the music's only Verdi there's a world to make it sweet
Just as yonder yellow sunset where the earth and heaven meet
Mellows all the sooty City! Hark, a hundred thousand feet
Are marching on to glory through the poppies and the wheat
In the land where the dead dreams go.

So it's Jeremiah, Jeremiah,
What have you to say
When you meet the garland girls
Tripping on their way?
All around my gala hat
I wear a wreath of roses
(A long and lonely year it is
I've waited for the May!)
If any one should ask you,
The reason why I wear it is--
My own love, my true love is coming home to-day.

And it's buy a bunch of violets for the lady
(It's lilac-time in London; it's lilac-time in London!)
Buy a bunch of violets for the lady;
While the sky burns blue above:

On the other side the street you'll find it shady
(It's lilac-time in London; it's lilac-time in London!)
But buy a bunch of violets for the lady,
And tell her she's your own true love.

There's a barrel-organ carolling across a golden street
In the City as the sun sinks glittering and slow;
And the music's not immortal; but the world has made it sweet
And enriched it with the harmonies that make a song complete
In the deeper heavens of music where the night and morning meet,
As it dies into the sunset glow;

And it pulses through the pleasures of the City and the pain
That surround the singing organ like a large eternal light,
And they've given it a glory and a part to play again
In the Symphony that rules the day and night.

And there, as the music changes,
The song runs round again;
Once more it turns and ranges
Through all its joy and pain:
Dissects the common carnival
Of passions and regrets;
And the wheeling world remembers all
The wheeling song forgets.

Once more La Traviata sighs
Another sadder song:
Once more Il Trovatore cries
A tale of deeper wrong;
Once more the knights to battle go
With sword and shield and lance
Till once, once more, the shattered foe
Has whirled into--a dance!

Come down to Kew in lilac-time, in lilac-time, in lilac-time;
Come down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!)
And you shall wander hand in hand with Love in summer's wonderland,
Come down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!)

poem by Alfred Noyes
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Pat wasn't Pat last night at all

Pat wasn't Pat last night at all.
He was the rain,
The Spring,
Young Dionysus, white and warm,
Lilac and everything.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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O Heart of Spring

O HEART of Spring!
Spirit of light and love and joyous day,
So soon to faint beneath the fiery Summer:
Still smiles the Earth, eager for thee alway:
Welcome art thou, soever short thy stay,
Thou bold, thou blithe newcomer!
Whither, O whither this thy journeying,
O heart of Spring?

O heart of Spring!
After the stormy days of Winter’s reign,
When the keen winds their last lament are sighing,
The Sun shall raise thee up to life again:
In thy dim death thou shalt not suffer pain:
Surely thou dost not fear this quiet dying?
Whither, O whither this thy journeying,
O heart of Spring?

O heart of Spring!
Youth’s emblem, ancient and unchanging light,
Uncomprehended, unconsumed, still burning:
Oh that we could, as thou, rise from the night
To find a world of blossoms lilac-white,
And long-winged swallows unafraid returning…
Whither, O whither this thy journeying,
O heart of Spring?

poem by John Shaw Neilson
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