Peace Restored
You virgins, that did late despair
To keep your wealth from cruel men,
Tie up in silk your careless hair:
Soft peace is come again.
Now lovers' eyes may gently shoot
A flame that will not kill;
The drum was angry, but the lute
Shall whisper what you will.
Sing Io, Io! for his sake
That hath restored your drooping heads;
With choice of sweetest flowers make
A garden where he treads;
Whilst we whole groves of laurel bring,
A petty triumph for his brow,
Who is the master of our spring
And all the bloom we owe.
poem by James Shirley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
In the spring garden
In the spring garden
~
In the spring garden
Birds sing and chatter
While flowers raise their heads
To greet the morning sun
A garden filled with colour bright
A garden which now fills with life
The bee and the butterfly hover
From flower to flower gathering nectar
Seeding the flowers blossom
Throughout the spring garden
The dew glistens upon the grass
While the wind gently rolls in the tree
All the world slowly waking
Soon to this bounty of great beauty
Every hue from natures pallet
Is here free for all to see
In the spring garden
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On this day of Spring Original by Rabindranath Tagore
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
My friend's heart is as soft
As a little flower
Whose negligence makes it
So terribly suffer
Why do you come to her
And try to make her laugh
The one who used to come
Now doesn't care enough
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
God please keep the happy
People always happy
And let the Spring season
Of joy pass by smoothly
God don't let the happy
People see her in tears
Since they overlook her
And want to live in cheers
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The garden of life...
Each of us are flowers in the garden of life we bloom,
We all bring a different light to brighten the daily gloom.
We all posess great potential to inspire our fellow man,
To offer peace and love is a choice we all should plan.
We can each bring joy to a life filled with sadness,
Just through a soft touch or word spoken in gladness.
We can also bring peace to those with a troubled mind,
Bring hope to a broken heart joy from the daily grind.
For every flower has something beautiful to share,
That has special meaning to someone, sometime, somewhere,
But our time is short, just like a season,
As autumn advances with purpose and reason.
We all have these gifts and we must take a chance,
If we spread peace and love it's the garden we enhance...
Enhance the garden...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Nature Speaks...(God) Jan 2011
The wind blows restlessly across my silken hair,
I lift my eyes to the sky in shattered despair,
The recent weather sends shivers down my spine.
As natures gives up with less chances less trying.
The radiant truth in its deeds as it flawlessly speaks.
About the beauty and nature it shared in its peak.
The fragrant flowers that blossomed in spring.
The picture beauty, luxurious green it did bring.
The river that flows under the 'crowned green' tree
And the rich civilization flowers, as birds sing sweetly
The delicious fruits satisfying our tasty buds and needs.
An ocean with its murmur and variety of fish to our feed.
The bounties were never unending and oh so plentiful..
Each warn, storm, vision dimmed, you walked into deadly fate,
Paid no heed, heard not the danger, you awake now too late.
Tall towers, skyscrapers shattered to the bottom ground.
Mother nature overflows, writhing in pain and an angry sound
Save it all before the darkest hour, to unwind the angry storm
To restore and recover that beauty in the best of perfect form
Environment contaminated as the sweet fragrance dies…..
Resources scarce and ceases to be with every sunrise.
Careless hands.... careless minds...and oh the careless hearts
Sad results of the ‘blue marble collapse’ as its torn apart!
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Love Spring
So Spring warm weather upon with you watch
bloom flowers: Tulip, Orchid, Cherry ect..
That awake Springtime beautiful blue sky
With me, feeling of peace with Spring
Pollen of the flowers trees everywhere
To let you know the Spring coming
Green grass with flowers fill us with joy
Outdoor full of activities
Spring gently warm our souls
To the Spring 's love within you and me forever.
poem by Natasa Tocuc
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Aglaia: a Pastoral
Sylvan Muses, can ye sing
Of the beauty of the Spring?
Have ye seen on earth that sun
That a heavenly course hath run?
Have ye lived to see those eyes
Where the pride of beauty lies?
Have ye heard that heavenly voice
That may make Love's heart rejoice?
Have ye seen Aglaia, she
Whom the world may joy to see?
If ye have not seen all these,
Then ye do but labour leese;
While ye tune your pipes to play
But an idle roundelay;
And in sad Discomfort's den
Everyone go bite her pen;
That she cannot reach the skill
How to climb that blessed hill
Where Aglaia's fancies dwell,
Where exceedings do excell,
And in simple truth confess
She is that fair shepherdess
To whom fairest flocks a-field
Do their service duly yield:
On whom never Muse hath gazèd
But in musing is amazèd;
Where the honour is too much
For their highest thoughts to touch;
Thus confess, and get ye gone
To your places every one;
And in silence only speak
When ye find your speech too weak.
Blessèd be Aglaia yet,
Though the Muses die for it;
Come abroad, ye blessèd Muses,
Ye that Pallas chiefly chooses,
When she would command a creature
In the honour of Love's nature,
For the sweet Aglaia fair
All to sweeten all the air,
Is abroad this blessèd day;
Haste ye, therefore, come away:
And to kill Love's maladies
Meet her with your melodies.
Flora hath been all about,
And hath brought her wardrobe out;
With her fairest, sweetest flowers,
All to trim up all your bowers.
Bid the shepherds and their swains
See the beauty of their plains;
And command them with their flocks
To do reverence on the rocks;
Where they may so happy be
As her shadow but to see:
Bid the birds in every bush
Not a bird to be at hush:
But to sit, and chirp, and sing
To the beauty of the Spring:
Call the sylvan nymphs together,
Bid them bring their musicks hither.
Trees their barky silence break,
Crack yet, though they cannot speak
Bid the purest, whitest swan
Of her feathers make her fan;
Let the hound the hare go chase;
Lambs and rabbits run at base;
Flies be dancing in the sun,
While the silk-worm's webs are spun;
Hang a fish on every hook
As she goes along the brook;
So with all your sweetest powers
Entertain her in your bowers;
Where her ear may joy to hear
How ye make your sweetest quire;
And in all your sweetest vein
Still Aglaia strike her strain;
But when she her walk doth turn,
Then begin as fast to mourn;
All your flowers and garlands wither
Put up all your pipes together;
Never strike a pleasing strain
Till she come abroad again.
poem by Nicholas Breton
Submitted by anonym
Vote! | Copy!
The First Spring Day
I wonder if the sap is stirring yet,
If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate,
If frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sun
And crocus fires are kindling one by one:
Sing, robin, sing;
I still am sore in doubt concerning Spring.
I wonder if the springtide of this year
Will bring another Spring both lost and dear;
If heart and spirit will find out their Spring,
Or if the world alone will bud and sing:
Sing, hope, to me;
Sweet notes, my hope, soft notes for memory.
The sap will surely quicken soon or late,
The tardiest bird will twitter to a mate;
So Spring must dawn again with warmth and bloom,
Or in this world, or in the world to come:
Sing, voice of Spring,
Till I too blossom and rejoice and sing.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Garden
This Garden does not take my eyes,
Though here you show how art of men
Can purchase Nature at a price
Would stock old Paradise again.
These glories while you dote upon,
I envy not your spring nor pride,
Nay, boast the summer all your own,
My thoughts with less are satisified.
Give me a little plot of ground,
Where might I with the Sun agree,
Though every day he walk the round,
My Garden he should seldom see.
Those Tulips that such wealth display,
To court my eye, shall lose their name,
Though now they listen, as if they
Expected I should praise their name.
But I would see my self appear
Within the Violet's drooping head,
On which a melancholy tear
The discontented morn hath shed.
Within their buds let Roses sleep,
And virgin Lilies on their stem,
Till sighs from lovers glide, and creep
Into their leaves to open them.
I'th'center of my ground compose
Of Bays and Yew my summer room,
Which may so oft as I repose,
Present my arbor, and my tomb.
No woman here shall find me out,
Or if a chance do bring one hither,
I'll be secure, for round about
I'll moat it with my eyes' foul weather.
No bird shall live within my pale,
To charm me with their shames of art,
Unless some wandering Nightingale
Come here to sing and break her heart.
Upon whose death I'll try to write
An epitaph in some funeral stone,
So sad, and true, it may invite
My self to die, and prove mine own.
poem by James Shirley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Angry Eyes
Time, time and again I see you staring down at me
Now, then and again I wonder what it is that you see
With those angry eyes
Well, I bet you wish you could cut me down
With those angry eyes
You want to believe that I am not the same as you
And now I cant conceive, oh lord, of what it is youre trying to do
With those angry eyes
Well, I bet you wish you could cut me down
With those angry eyes
What a shot you could be if you could shoot at me
With those angry eyes
You and I must start to realize
Blindness binds us in a false disguise
Can you see me through those angry eyes?
You try to defend that you are not the one to blame
But Im finding it hard, my friend, when I m in the deadly aim
Of those angry eyes
Well, I bet you wish you could cut me down
With those angry eyes
What a shot you could be if you could shoot at me
With those angry eyes
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Only Leaves!
Will there be fruits without flowers?
Will there be flowers without leaves?
But in my garden only leaves grow
Without flowers and fruits ever!
Selfish growth will mar healthy society!
It will be like westward rush for gold
Where everyone fights with gun to kill
One another along with joy and fun ever!
Competition sans cooperation kills joy!
Animal lust cannot sustain divine love
Making joy bloom as flowers in garden
To make joy rule life forever in bliss!
Life sans good company as desert sans oasis is
Stock piling of wealth sans none to share joy!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
St. Francis and the Birds
Little sisters, the birds:
We must praise God, you and I
You, with songs that fill the sky,
I, with halting words.
All things tell His praise,
Woods and waters thereof sing,
Summer, Winter, Autumn, Spring,
And the night and days.
Yea, and cold and heat,
And the sun and stars and moon,
Sea with her monotonous tune,
Rain and hail and sleet,
And the winds of heaven,
And the solemn hills of blue,
And the brown earth and the dew,
And the thunder even,
And the flowers' sweet breath.
All things make one glorious voice;
Life with fleeting pains and joys,
And our brother, Death.
Little flowers of air,
With your feathers soft and sleek,
And your bright brown eyes and meek,
He hath made you fair.
He hath taught to you
Skill to weave in tree and thatch
Nests where happy mothers hatch
Speckled eggs of blue.
And hath children given:
When the soft heads overbrim
The brown nests, then thank ye Him
In the clouds of heaven.
Also in your lives
Live His laws Who loveth you.
Husbands, be ye kind and true;
Be home-keeping, wives:
Love not gossiping;
Stay at home and keep the nest;
Fly not here and there in quest
Of the newest thing.
Live as brethren live:
Love be in each heart and mouth;
Be not envious, be not wroth,
Be not slow to give.
When ye build the nest,
Quarrel not o'er straw or wool;
He who hath be bountiful
To the neediest.
Be not puffed nor vain
Of your beauty or your worth,
Of your children or your birth,
Or the praise ye gain.
Eat not greedily:
Sometimes for sweet mercy's sake,
Worm or insect spare to take;
Let it crawl or fly.
See ye sing not near
To our church on holy day,
Lest the human-folk should stray
From their prayers to hear.
Now depart in peace:
In God's name I bless each one;
May your days be long i' the sun
And your joys increase.
And remember me,
Your poor brother Francis, who
Loves you and gives thanks to you
For this courtesy.
Sometimes when ye sing,
Name my name, that He may take
Pity for the dear song's sake
On my shortcoming.
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Dialogue. Lute And Voice
L. Sing, Laura, sing, whilst silent are the sphears,
And all the eyes of Heaven are turn'd to ears.
V. Touch thy dead wood, and make each living tree
Unchain its feet, take arms, and follow thee.
CHORUS.
L. Sing. V. Touch. 0 Touch. L. 0 Sing.
BOTH. It is the souls, souls sole offering.
V. Touch the divinity of thy chords, and make
Each heart string tremble, and each sinew shake.
L. Whilst with your voyce you rarifie the air,
None but an host of angels hover here.
CHORUS. SING, TOUCH, &c.
V. Touch thy soft lute, and in each gentle thread
The lyon and the panther captive lead.
L. Sing, and in heav'n inthrone deposed love,
Whilst angels dance, and fiends in order move.
DOUBLE CHORUS.
What sacred charm may this then be
In harmonie,
That thus can make the angels wild,
The devils mild,
And teach low hell to heav'n to swell,
And the high heav'n to stoop to hell?
poem by Richard Lovelace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Baby's Birthday
G.T.A.
BEFORE your life that is to come,
Love stands with eager eyes, that vainly
Seek to discern what gift may fit
The slow unfolding years of it;
And still Time's lips are sealed and dumb,
And still Love sees no future plainly.
We cannot guess what flowers will spring
Best in your garden, bloom most brightly;
But some fair flowers in any plot
Will spring and grow, and wither not;
And such wish-flowers we gladly bring,
And in that small hand lay them lightly.
Baby, we wish that those dear eyes
May see fulfilment of our dreaming,
Those little feet may turn from wrong,
Those hands to hold the right be strong,
That heart be pure, that mind be wise
To know the true from the true-seeming.
We wish that all your life may be
A life of selfless brave endeavour--
That for reward the fates allow
Such love as lines your soft nest now
To warm the years for you, when we,
Who wish you this, are cold for ever.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
White Virgins
This poem was written after the seasons last snowfall, a few days before spring 2009.
It began with a single flake of snow
That fell upon my brow so gently down.
Almost imperceptible, ever so
Subtle and never making any sound.
I love these silent tiny crystalline
Flakes that now are falling numerously
In front of grateful eyes at wintertime.
I extend my open hand graciously
And welcome these white virgins from heaven
That have clung to me so effortlessly.
Their prodigious numbers against my skin
Benumb my hand homogeneously.
I stand alone in winters fading fling
Holding these virgins while thinking of Spring.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Was A Stranger, And Ye Took Me In
'Neath skies that winter never knew
The air was full of light and balm,
And warm and soft the Gulf wind blew
Through orange bloom and groves of palm.
A stranger from the frozen North,
Who sought the fount of health in vain,
Sank homeless on the alien earth,
And breathed the languid air with pain.
God's angel came! The tender shade
Of pity made her blue eye dim;
Against her woman's breast she laid
The drooping, fainting head of him.
She bore him to a pleasant room,
Flower-sweet and cool with salt sea air,
And watched beside his bed, for whom
His far-off sisters might not care.
She fanned his feverish brow and smoothed
Its lines of pain with tenderest touch.
With holy hymn and prayer she soothed
The trembling soul that feared so much.
Through her the peace that passeth sight
Came to him, as he lapsed away
As one whose troubled dreams of night
Slide slowly into tranquil day.
The sweetness of the Land of Flowers
Upon his lonely grave she laid
The jasmine dropped its golden showers,
The orange lent its bloom and shade.
And something whispered in her thought,
More sweet than mortal voices be
'The service thou for him hast wrought
O daughter! hath been done for me.'
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Triumph
When life was a cobweb of stars for Beauty who came
In the whisper of leaves or a bird's lone cry in the glen,
On dawn-lit hills and horizons girdled with flame
I sought for the triumph that troubles the faces of men.
With death in the terrible flickering gloom of the fight
I was cruel and fierce with despair; I was naked and bound;
was stricken: and Beauty returned through the shambles of night;
In the faces of men she returned; and their triumph I found.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Beautiful Camellias
The camellias bloom in Winter when the skies are cold and gray
When the sun shines at it's weakest and the Spring seems far away
Each tree an individual by the shade of flowers they bear
An avenue of camellias of one shade of flowers more often than not rare.
In shades of pink and creams and reds the colours one might name
Each is an individual for no two look the same
The beautiful camellias resplendent in their flowers
They bloom in lawn and garden on Winter's coldest hours.
In late fall in Victoria in the Southern Hemisphere
The flower buds on camellia tell Winter days are near
And before the wattles come to bloom towards the end of July
The flowers on the camellia tree lose their petals and die.
The beautiful camellias bloom in the cold winter showers
And long before the southern spring they will have lost their flowers
And on June's coldest and wettest day great beauty I can see
A mass of pink flowers blooming on the green camellia tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bring Flowers
Bring flowers, young flowers, for the festal board,
To wreathe the cup ere the wine is pour'd;
Bring flowers! they are springing in wood and vale,
Their breath floats out on the southern gale,
And the touch of the sunbeam hath waked the rose,
To deck the hall where the bright wine flows.
Bring flowers to strew in the conqueror's path-
He hath shaken thrones with his stormy wrath!
He comes with the spoils of nations back,
The vines lie crush'd in his chariot's track,
The turf looks red where he won the day-
Bring flowers to die in the conqueror's way!
Bring flowers to the captive's lonely cell,
They have tales of the joyous woods to tell;
Of the free blue streams, and the glowing sky,
And the bright world shut from his languid eye;
They will bear him a thought of the sunny hours,
And a dream of his youth-bring him flowers, wild flowers!
Bring flowers, fresh flowers, for the bride to wear!
They were born to blush in her shining hair.
She is leaving the home of her childhood's mirth,
She hath bid farewell to her father's hearth,
Her place is now by another's side-
Bring flowers for the locks of the fair young bride!
Bring flowers, pale flowers, o'er the bier to shed,
A crown for the brow of the early dead!
For this through its leaves hath the white-rose burst,
For this in the woods was the violet nurs'd.
Though they smile in vain for what once was ours,
They are love's last gift-bring ye flowers, pale flowers!
Bring flowers to the shrine where we kneel in prayer,
They are nature's offering, their place is there!
They speak of hope to the fainting heart,
With a voice of promise they come and part,
They sleep in dust through the wintry hours,
They break forth in glory-bring flowers, bright flowers!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Boy
Stand up straight
Boy
Tuck your shirt
Wipe your face
Nobody likes a crybaby
Boy
Baby boy
Dry your eyes
Welcome to the world
Boy
Stand up straight
Baby boy
Dry your eyes
(Don't hit your sister)
Don't hit your sister
Shut your mouth
Wipe your hands
Don't you cry
Tuck your shirt
Turn off the TV
Don't hit your sister
Get a job
Turn it down
Find a girl
Rule the world
(Do you call that music)
Don't sing high
Boy
Use your sense
(Cut your hair)
Get what you want
Shoot your gun
Cut your hair
(Cut your hair)
Drop your phone
Dance with your hands down
Use your name
Rule the world
(Keep it inside)
It's your right now
Don't hit your sister
(Nobody likes a crybaby)
We like girls who are thinner, baby
(Don't hit your sister)
Nobody likes a crybaby boy
Baby boy
Stake your coin
(Shut your mouth)
Drive your car
(What's is your problem)
Buy a bigger one
(Tuck your shirt in)
(Cat caught in your tongue)
Choose a book
(Don't make me show you)
Shoot your gun
(If I have to find it)
Don't get me angry
Don't sing high
(I have to use it again)
(Don't make me)
Don't get me angry
(I don't have to use it again)
Baby baby
(Shut your mouth)
Baby boy
(Don't hit your sister)
Keep the noise down
Boy
Use your sense
Baby boy
(Nobody likes a crybaby, boy)
Lift some weights
Win the race
Baby boy
Tuck your shirt
Everybody likes a winner, baby
(Don't hit your sister)
Everybody likes a winner, baby
Everybody likes a winner
Everybody likes a sinner, baby
Ace the test
Find a girl
Buy a home
(Clean your plates)
Settle down
(Eat your vegetable)
Keep your feelings deep inside
(Don't be late)
Don't sing high
Don't make me use it
We like girls who are thinner, baby
Better lift some weights
We like girls who are thinner, baby
Feed your dog
(Better lift some weights)
(Shut your mouth)
Shoot your gun
Drop your phone
Drive your car
(Don't make me angry)
It's your right now
Don't sing high now
Find a girl
Clean your room
Baby baby baby baby boy
(If I have to find it you'll be sorry)
We like boys who are trimmer, baby
We like girls who are thinner, baby
Boy
Baby boy
We like girls who are thinner, baby
Baby boy
Don't sing high
Boy
Baby boy
Go to sleep
song performed by by Darren Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
To Phillis the Faire Sheeperdesse
My Phillis hath the morninge Sunne,
at first to looke upon her:
And Phillis hath morne-waking birds,
her risinge still to honour.
My Phillis hath prime-featherd flowres,
that smile when she treads on them:
And Phillis hath a gallant flocke,
that leapes since she dooth owne them.
But Phillis hath too hard a hart,
alas, that she should have it:
It yeelds no mercie to desert,
nor grace to those that crave it.
Sweete Sunne, when thou look'st on,
pray her regard my moane!
Sweete birds, when you sing to her,
to yeeld some pitty, woo her!
Sweet flowers that she treads on,
tell her, her beauty deads one.
And if in life her love she nill agree me,
Pray her before I die, she will come see me.
Finis.
poem by Sir Edward Dyer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!