Abandon your books
These lines I would have sent to a beautiful maid that over toiled herself with books, till her radiant face gathered dust and spider web wreathed upon her hair:
Oh listen to the falling rain and shake your dusty looks
Why all this toil and languid trouble?
Oh this swirling slanting rain, abandon your books
You will grow bold and double
The glorious sun above the mountain's head
A freshening luster mellow,
through all the long green fields has spread,
his first sweet evening yellow
Oh leave your books this is a dull and endless strife
come and listen to the woodland linnet,
how sweet his music; on our life
there is more of wisdom in it
But hash! how blithe the throstle sings
And he is no mean preacher
Come forth into the lights of natural things
Let nature be your teacher
Oh nature through rain, sun and wind has a world of ready wealth
our craving minds and questioning hearts to bless
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health
Truth! , Truth breathed by cheerfulness
One impulse from a vernal wood
may teach you more of mankind and of man;
of moral evil and of good
then all the dead sages can
Sweet is the lore which nature brings;
our meddling intellect
Misshapes and misplaces the beauteous forms of things
we would murder to dissect
Enough of science and of distilled art;
Close these books, these barren leaves
Come forth and bring with you a heart
that throbs, that watches that thrives and receives
copy rights 2010
Related quotes
The Table Turned
Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books;
Or surely you'll grow double:
Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?
The sun, above the mountain's head,
A freshening lustre mellow
Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.
Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife:
Come, hear the woodland linnet,
How sweet his music! on my life,
There's more of wisdom in it.
And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
He, too, is no mean preacher:
Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.
She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds and hearts to bless--
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
Truth breathed by cheerfulness.
One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.
Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:--
We murder to dissect.
Enough of Science and of Art;
Close up those barren leaves;
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives.
poem by William Wordsworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rain, rain, rain
Rain, rain, rain
Why it cannot be another rain
The one that comes down
Whirling and smashing under a gust
With force with joy and with thrust
Bouncing from leaf to leaf
From earlobe to earlobe
Shines like a pearl
In the vermilion lap of a rose
And in the morning sun
A playful rabbit will chase
The vapor of its breath
On a lush green turf
Rain, rain, rain
Exits and ends are not joyful trend
Mortality, a monster ambushing life
Lurks our essential being
Craves its victims young and fresh
Devour like fire any piece of beauty to ash
Prey on any joy of ever
This horror of feeling, this dreadful sadness descended on me
Like a night on an owl
To rough and to shake me with dreadful foul
All things are hushed with the falling rain, nature’s self lay dead
The mountains seem to nod their dawn drowsy head
The little birds in dreams their songs not repeat
And sleeping flowers beneath the night-dew sweat
Even lust, Envy and hate sleep, yet loves denies
Rest to my soul and slumber to my eyes
Oh Dear, lay your trouble head to rest
Calm the palpitations in the breast
God renders our fortune sweet
If we aid him with our bravery and wits
copy rights 2010
My Hundred Books
A thousand books my library
Contains;
And all are primed, it seems to me
With brains.
Mine are so few I scratch in thought
My head;
For just a hundred of the lot
I've read.
A hundred books, but of the best,
I can
With wisdom savour and digest
And scan.
Yet when afar from kin and kith
In nooks
Of quietness I'm happy with
Sweet books.
So as nine hundred at me stare
In vain,
My lack I'm wistfully aware
Of brain;
Yet as my leave of living ends,
With looks
Of love I view a hundred friends,
My books.
poem by Robert William Service
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Supervision
The teacher prayed to God above for wisdom day-by-day,
For only He had perfect love and insights to relay.
The teacher saw the vision come and looked at it amazed,
For it was meant for all not some, yet not a word was phrased.
From clouds on high, the book birds flew about the teacher's head
And some of these the teacher knew, for they were fondly read.
Then other book birds circled round with titles yet unknown,
With treasure chests as yet unfound, with cherished truths unshown.
Imagine books left on the shelves, unread, unshared for years...
Deprived of these to help ourselves, no thoughts between our ears.
What use would Mankind ever gain if great books were not read?
The teacher thanked God for the brain that chose not to be dead.
And so it was, the teacher smiled! The course ahead made sense.
From now on, books for every child, for families and friends.
In every language known to Man, God's Word can preach Good News,
If we but do the best we can to help each student choose.
The teacher's heart was filled with hope with all God had revealed,
For books would help the students cope, as if each were a shield.
Both fact and fiction serve us well, if willing we would be
To learn the lessons that they tell, for truth shall set us free!
poem by Denis Martindale
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Listen To The Rain
(Rain)
Listen listen
Listen listen
Listen listen
Listen listen
Listen (listen) listen (listen)
Listen (listen) listen (listen)
Listen (listen) listen (listen)
Listen listen
Listen to each drop of rain (listen listen)
Aaah
Whispering secrets in rain (listen listen)
Aaah
Frantically searching for someone to hear
That story be more than it hides
Please don't let go
Can't we stay for a while?
It's just to hard to say goodbye
Listen to the rain
Aa...ah
Listen listen listen listen listen listen to the rain
Weeping
Oo...ooh oooh ooh oo...ooh
Oo...ooh oooh oh oh
Listen (listen) listen (listen)
Listen (listen) listen
I stand alone in the storm (listen listen)
Suddenly sweet words take hold
(Listen listen)
Hurry they stay for you haven't much time
Open your eyes to the love around you
You can feel youre alone
But I'm here still with you
You can do what you dream
Just remember to listen to the rain
oo...ooh oh oh oh oh
ooh ooh oh oh oooh
Listen
song performed by by Evanescence
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Rejuvenation Of Nature!
Green, green plants have grown great everywhere!
Rain has irrigated all fields to green by its fall well;
All barren lands have turned into green forests cool;
What a change Nature brings about by its unique spell!
Despite deforestation rain has afforested soon ever;
Nature’s unique way of healing the wounds is fantastic!
Man destroys for material development all resources;
But Nature rejuvenates even dead fields to green pasture!
In the recent trip to South I saw the great wonder of Nature
Everywhere putting me in astonishment by its healing spell!
Helping hand of Nature for rejuvenation man shouldn’t neglect
And turn to the path of afforestation to save global disaster!
All polluting acts man should curtail for natural rejuvenation
To make this world a place of heaven and not hell forever!
poem by Ramesh T A
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A Sweet Song Of Love
Listen to this sweet song of love,
a different love song of our strife.
The victory of truth in life,
listen to this sweet song of love....
Walking together in our dreams where have we reached,
just look how blue is the sky here.
Our song is even sung by the birds here,
where ever our eyes can see is pure light spread.
Listen to this sweet song of love,
a different love song of our strife.
The victory of truth in life,
listen to this sweet song of love....
Cool cool breezes blow here always,
beyond the stars is our little cottage.
The rainbow colours are here to manage,
they where they commence their journeyof joys.
Listen to this sweet song of love,
a different love song of our strife.
The victory of truth in life,
listen to this sweet song of love....
Forbidden to meet each other in this world,
encircled within our customs were we both.
imprisoned and guarded were we both,
we died in breaking away from the customs of this world.
Listen to this sweet song of love,
a different love song of our strife.
The victory of truth in life,
listen to this sweet song of love....
poem by Renu Kakkar
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Rain On Me O' Rain Rain Rain
o' rain rain rain
come rain on me o' rain
rain on every plant that grow o' dear rain
rain on every resource o' dear rain
rain to green the plants
the plants that of nature's decor
rain on us and never let go
quench my thirst; to get so
rain on me o' rain rain rain
rain for happiness and leisure
rain for our children to play
rain on the soil for us this day
so, we plant more food to feed us this way
go to the fields and gardens; same way
rain o' beautiful rain
rain rain rain
**extract from 'patterns of life' november 2011 ebook
ntema's unique poetry (nup)
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Two Wise Men
there is a legacy, an old legacy of two books
the old books of ancient
the ancient wisdom
of two men
two wise men
with good hearts
and good minds
one by name of Luqman
and the other man
is the great porphet-king Solomon
I didn't find these two books
but I found
THe wise words
of these two men
The songs
of wisdom's book
pouring from the heaven
to the heart
the MAN with NO FAITH in ALLAH
is NO MAN
BE faithful then your illness is all gone
THere is holy obligation upon man
care for parents as they care
then be fair free from bias
upon your self
upon your men
or your enemy
you will win; then and ofter
in this life
and thereafter
poem by Sallam Yassin
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Just When The Rain Stops
just when the rain stops
something within you stops too
the misery of being
confined in the small prison of
your thoughts
you find a window
and this wide door and you grope
for the key
to open something closed
days ago
you breathe the sea breeze
and take some salt of
life and you
release your sighs like
an earned ire
you take freedom finally
letting go your fingers and hands
your feet dance
go, go, go
your books on the table make the
cheering squad
out there
nature wants to be read
the books close finally
their pages like tongues
hide behind the thick glossy
hardbound cover
you are not a fool finally
touching the maps drawn
by the falling rain
welcome to the world
the trees tell you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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As I ventured to the Wood
As I ventured to the wood,
I stopped to draw on dewy air; let
Droplets shimmer in my hair, that
Rested on my tranquil head – as
In a sense of cosy bed.
As I ventured to the wood,
A gesturing cuckoo perched above,
And then in song with cooing dove,
‘You're welcome’, bade he, ’Enter please
To roam our land with gentle breeze.’
As I ventured to the wood,
A fallow deer of limpid eye
Gave care to glance at lucky I.
The heavenly aura 'bout her glow had
Charmed me, like a fine Bordeaux.
As I ventured to the wood,
A dazzling flower waved her face
In blazing show of dance and chase, and
Reddened bright in shade of dawn, she
Flirted like a prancing fawn.
As I ventured to the wood,
A butterfly had graced my arm,
And knowing I bid him no harm, he
Splayed for me hypnotic wing in
Colours for to urge me sing!
As I ventured to the wood,
The radiant sun shone down on me.
He flushed and beamed ‘I say to thee,
You bless your land; be filled with pride, and
Cherish e’er yon countryside! ’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved
Nature, nature, Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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I Know I Have A Copy Somewhere
Wherever you may choose to look
You're guaranteed to find a book.
Perhaps a murder mystery.
Anthologies of poetry
Reference books and picture books.
Books on witchcraft and black magic
Tomes on almost any topic.
Some by authors long since dead.
Books which try to look ahead.
Books of every shape and size.
As I have come to realise.
Enough to start a library
Though jumbled up haphazardly.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The experience gathered from books, though often valuable, is but the nature of learning; whereas the experience gained from actual life is one of the nature of wisdom.
quote by Samuel Smiles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Books Are Burning
Books are burning
In the main square, and I saw there
The first eating the text
Books are burning
In the still air
And you know where they burn books
People are next
I believe the printed word should be forgiven
Doesnt matter what it said
Wisdom hotline from the dead back to the living
Key to the larder for your heart and head
Books are burning
In our own town, watch us turn round
And cast our glances elsewhere
Books are burning
In the playground
Smell of burnt book is not unlike human hair
I believe the printed word is more than sacred
Beyond the gauge of good or bad
The human right to let your soul fly free and naked
Above the violence of the fearful and sad
The church of matches
Anoints in ignorance with gasoline
The church of matches
Grows fat by breathing in the smoke of dreams
Its quite obscene
Books are burning
More each day now, and I pray now
You boys will tire of these games
Books are burning
I hope somehow, this will allow
A phoenix up from the flames
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My intellectual shortcomings
He loves books
Books that he cannot buy
He gets the intellect
He gets the mind
He gets rich in time
Trusting his instincts
He buys books
That he cannot read anymore
He gets so many minds
He loses his intellect
With all regret to what
Happened, he loses his face
And wants to recover at least his eyes
By writing some of these poems.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Summer Days <3
Summer breeze blowing the grass around,
whirling my hair in every direction.
Summer sun kissing my face,
Leaving me red, and all sunburned.
Summer warmth hugs me,
Every time I walk out the door.
Summer rain dances with me
Who could ask for anything more?
Summer brings swimming,
And long walks on the beach and in the park.
Summer days leave and bring starry nights
So we can stare into them after dark.
Summer gives me lazy days
To hang out with my friends.
Summer nights bring the crickets,
To sing with when the day ends.
Summer brings yummy sweet tea,
And reading books under the sun,
Summer comes with lots of things,
But most of all, it brings fun for all!
poem by Ashley Meyers
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The experience to be gathered from books, Though often valuable, is but of the nature of learning Whereas the experience gained from actual life, Is of the nature of wisdom And a small store of the latter Is worth vastly more than a stock of the former.
quote by Samuel Smiles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'd Like To Know More About Nature
I'd like to know more about Nature for of Nature so little i know
Though we see the beauty she creates and the beautiful things she does grow
Her rill that is born by the mountain flows downland by many a hedgerow
And it swells into a mighty river and on towards the ocean does flow.
I'd like to know more about Nature for Nature is an amazing thing
The song bird who sings in your garden sings the same song his father did sing
This is just one wonder of Nature how a small bird remembers a song
And passes it on through his genes to his offsprings a secret that to Nature belong.
I'd like to know more about Nature for of Nature i know little at all
Though i just like billions of others can recognize some birds and animals by their call
Great human minds have studied Nature but they only do learn to realize
That there is far more to our Earth Mother far more to her than meets our eyes.
I'd like to know more about Nature though i look at her every day
She guards her secrets with secrecy and from us she hides them away
And those who say they know all of Nature are those who do broadcast a lie
And Nature she lives on forever and we like all of her life forms must die.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Garden
My garden aboundeth in pleasant nooks
And fragrance is over it all;
For sweet is the smell of my old, old books
In their places against the wall.
Here is a folio that's grim with age
And yellow and green with mould;
There's the breath of the sea on every page
And the hint of a stanch ship's hold.
And here is a treasure from France la belle
Exhaleth a faint perfume
Of wedded lily and asphodel
In a garden of song abloom.
And this wee little book of Puritan mien
And rude, conspicuous print
Hath the Yankee flavor of wintergreen,
Or, may be, of peppermint.
In Walton the brooks a-babbling tell
Where the cheery daisy grows,
And where in meadow or woodland dwell
The buttercup and the rose.
But best beloved of books, I ween,
Are those which one perceives
Are hallowed by ashes dropped between
The yellow, well-thumbed leaves.
For it's here a laugh and it's there a tear,
Till the treasured book is read;
And the ashes betwixt the pages here
Tell us of one long dead.
But the gracious presence reappears
As we read the book again,
And the fragrance of precious, distant years
Filleth the hearts of men.
Come, pluck with me in my garden nooks
The posies that bloom for all;
Oh, sweet is the smell of my old, old books
In their places against the wall!
poem by Eugene Field
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Second Hand Books
Books! Books! Books! There are so many different designs.
There are some which, by the author, are personally signed.
Some books have pages with gilt edges, which look all posh.
Some have nice pictures on their covers, which are embossed.
Some books have hard covers, while some have soft.
Some are all dusty, where they’ve been kept in the loft.
Some books have fancy covers; some just have plain.
Some have suffered mishaps, and are now all stained.
Some books are all dog-eared at the corners of their pages.
Some have gone yellow, where they’ve been around ages.
Inside some books, there can be seen a pencilled name;
Someone, who once, on this particular book, had a claim.
Some are obviously well read; their spines are all creased.
From out of a book, amazing adventures can be unleashed.
Some books have pages which are spoiled or a bit torn.
Some have covers which are grubby and look well worn.
Some just have text, while others also include illustrations.
Some are former prize winners; once the toast of the nation.
There are books by famous authors, as well as the lesser known.
Some are former library books which, to the public, were loaned.
There are romances, poetry, classics, sci-fi, humour, and histories;
Gardening, cookery, travel, thrillers, manga, and murder mysteries.
In wooden bookcases, the books are categorised, and are neatly lined.
In a second hand bookshop, you just never know what you may find.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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