Scene Between May and June
In lowly dale, fast by a river's side,
With woody hill o'er hill encompass'd round,
A most enchanting wizard did abide,
Than whom a fiend more fell is nowhere found.
It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground;
And there a season atween June and May,
Half prankt with spring, with summer half imbrown'd,
A listless climate made, where, sooth to say,
No living wight could work, ne cared e'en for play.
Was nought around but images of rest,
Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between,
And flowery beds, that slumbrous influence kest
From poppies breath'd, and beds of pleasant green,
Where never yet was creeping creature seen.
Meatime unnumber'd glittering streamlets play'd,
And hurl'd everywhere their water's sheen,
That, as they bicker'd through the sunny glade,
Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made.
Join'd to the prattle of the purling rills,
Were heard the lowing herds along the vale,
And flocks loud bleating from the distant hills,
And vacant shepherds piping in the dale:
And now and then sweet Philomel would wail,
Or stock-doves plain amid the forest deep,
That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale;
And still a coil the grasshopper did keep;
Yet all these sounds y-blent inclined all to sleep.
Full in the passage of the vale above,
A sable, silent, solemn, forest stood,
Where nought but shadowy forms was seen to move,
As Idless fancy'd in her dreaming mood;
And up the hills, on either side, a wood
Of black'ning pines, aye waving to and fro,
Sent forth a sleepy horror through the blood;
And where this valley winded out, below,
The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow.
A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was,
Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye,
And of gay castles in the clouds that pass,
For ever flushing round a summer sky;
There eke the soft delights, that witchingly
Instil a wanton sweetness through the breast,
And the calm pleasures, always hover'd nigh;
But whate'er smack'd of noyace or unrest,
Was far, far off expell'd from this delicious nest.
poem by James Thomson
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The Landskip
How pleas'd within my native bowers
Erewhile I pass'd the day!
Was ever scene so deck'd with flowers?
Were ever flowers so gay?
How sweetly smil'd the hill, the vale,
And all the landskip round!
The river gliding down the dale!
The hill with beeches crown'd!
But now, when urg'd by tender woes,
I speed to meet my dear,
That hill and stream my zeal oppose,
And check my fond career.
No more, since Daphne was my theme,
Their wonted charms I see:
That verdant hill, and silver stream,
Divide my love and me.
poem by William Shenstone
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Song II. The Landscape
How pleased within my native bowers
Erewhile I pass'd the day!
Was ever scene so deck'd with flowers?
Were ever flowers so gay?
How sweetly smiled the hill, the vale,
And all the landscape round!
The river gliding down the dale,
The hill with beeches crown'd!
But now, when urged by tender woes,
I speed to meet my dear,
That hill and stream my zeal oppose,
And check my fond career.
No more, since Daphne was my theme,
Their wonted charms I see;
That verdant hill and silver stream,
Divide my love and me.
poem by William Shenstone
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Sizzla
Most wanted!
To the chill spot,
Change,
Mr. Postman,
Sizzla! !
Take me home,
Of the police,
Of the people,
Like the highlander;
Process,
The chill spot!
Coach,
Hill spot!
Hill top,
Take me home,
With the magic touch of love;
But not the killing spot.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Reverie of Poor Susan
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,
Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years:
Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard
In the silence of morning the song of the Bird.
Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees
A mountain ascending, a vision of trees;
Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide,
And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.
Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale,
Down which she so often has tripped with her pail;
And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's,
The one only dwelling on earth that she loves.
She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade,
The mist and the river, the hill and the shade:
The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise,
And the colours have all passed away from her eyes!
poem by William Wordsworth
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Blueberry Hill
I found my thrill
On blueberry hill
On blueberry hill
When I found you
The moon stood still (moon stood still)
On blueberry hill (blueberry hill)
It lingered until (lingered until)
My dream true (true)
Though were apart (we are apart)
I think of you still (think of you still)
For you were my friend (you were my friend)
On blueberry hill
The wind in the willow played
Loves sweet melody
But all those vows you made
Were never to be
Though were apart (we are apart)
I think of you still (think of you still)
For you were my friend (you were my friend)
On blueberry hill
I found my thrill (found my thrill)
On blueberry hill (blueberry hill)
On blueberry hill (blueberry hill)
When I found you (you)
The moon stood still (moon stood still)
On blueberry hill (blueberry hill)
It lingered until (lingered until)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blueberry Hill
(words & music by lewis - stock - rose)
I found my thrill on blueberry hill
On blueberry hill when I found you
The moon stood still on blueberry hill
And lingered until my dreams came true
The wind in the willow played
Loves sweet melody
But all of those vows we made
Were never to be
Tho were apart, youre part of me still
For you were my thrill on blueberry hill
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Up On The Hill
We come from a long line of lenders
Who get rich just exploiting you spenders
But now we just manage our blenders
Up, up, up on the hill
It helps to be charming and funny
Have cute names like binky and bunny
But the main things still oodles of money
Up, up, up on the hill
Up on the hill we are the big cheeses
Up on the hill we own the cool breezes
Top of the heap is where we know we belong
Up on the hill above the confusion
Up on the hill we live our illusions
Up, up, up on the hill
Marmalade mansions beneath cloudless skies
Breathtaking vistas that baffle your eyes
Were passing our days in a rare atmosphere
Sun, sea, and stars, and warm breezes all year
Our blood is decidedly blue-ish
Were leery of anything newish
And or course, darling, nobodys jewish
Up, up, up on the hill
Up on the hill we are the big cheeses
Up on the hill we own the cool breezes
The top of the heap is where we know we belong
Up on the hill above the confusion
Up on the hill we live our illusions
Up, up, up on the hill
Up, up, up on the hill
Way up, up, up on the hill
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beautiful Comrie
Ye lovers of the picturesque, away, away!
To beautiful Comrie and have a holiday;
Aud bask in the sunahine and inhale the fragrant air
Emanating from the woodlands and shrubberies there.
The charming village of Comrie is most lovely to be seen,
Especially in the summer season when the trees are green;
And near by is Loch Earn and its waters sparkling clear,
And as the tourist gazes thereon his spirits it will cheer.
Then St. Fillans is a beautiful spot, I must confess,
It is really a picture of rural loveliness;
Because out of the quiet lake the river ripples merrily,
And all round are hills beautiful in shape and nothing uncomely.
The rocky knoll to the south is a most seductive place,
And in the hotel there visitors will find every solace;
And the flower-decked cottages are charming to see,
Also handsome villas suitable for visitors of high and low degree.
Then there's St. Fillan's Hill, a prehistoric fort,
And visitors while there to it should resort;
And to the tourist the best approach is from the west,
Because in climbing the hill his strength it will test.
And descending the hill as best one may,
The scene makes the tourist's heart feel gay;
And by the west side is reached a wooded deli,
And about two hundred yards from that there's St. Fillan's Well.
Oh, charming Comrie! I must conclude my lay,
And to write in praise of thee I virtually do say
That your lovely mountains and silver birches will drive dull care away:
Therefore lovers of the picturesque, away, away!
To beautiful Comrie end have a holidoy,
And I'm sure you will return with spirits, light and gay,
After viewing the Sylvan beauties and hoary beeches there,
Also pines, ferns, and beautiful oaks, I do declare.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Blueberry Hill
I found my thrill ......on blueberry hill
On blueberry hill ......when I found you
The moon stood still ......on blueberry hill
And lingered until ......my dreams came true
(the wind in the willow played.......loves sweet melody
But all of those vows we made...... were never to be)
Though were apart......youre part of me still
For you were my thrill......on blueberry hill
(I found my thrill)...........come climb the hill with me, baby
(on blueberry hill)............well see what we shall see
(on blueberry hill)...............Ill bring my horn with me
(when I found you)................. Ill be with you where berries are blue
(the moon stood still)................ each afternoon well go
(on blueberry hill)..................... higher than the moon well go
(and lingered until).................... then, to a weddin in june well go
(my dreams came true).................ba-ba-da-d-bzz-bzz-va-d-in-da-day
The wind in the willow played .................. (do you really love me)
Loves sweet melody .........................(as I love you)
But all of those vows we made ................ (will you still remember)
Were never to be .......................... (when the night is through)
Though were apart......youre part of me still
For you were my thrill......on blueberry hill
song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sugar Hill
Writer Dolly Parton
Up on Sugar Hill we'd go walkin'
Hand in hand while the south wind blowed
Bob whites callin', black crows cawkin',
Countin' the warts on a toad in the road
Down in the mill pond swimmin naked
Showin' more than we should have showed
We were just kids explorin' nature
Learnin more than we should have knowed
Sug, Sug, Sug, Sugar Hill memories
Stealing sugar on the mountainside
Sug, Sug, Sug, Sugar Hill sugar
Sweeter than candy and cake and pie
A yellow dress drapin off of my shoulder
Seein' myself in the lookin glass
Older now and a little bit bolder
Thinkin' about our summers past
Up on Sugar Hill we'd go walkin'
Hand in hand up the mountainside
Teenage lovers plannin' and talkin'
Dreamin' of a future for you and I
Sug, Sug, Sug, Sugar Hill memories
Stealin' sugar on the mountain top
Sug, Sug, Sug, Sugar Hill sugar
Sweeter than ice cream and soda pop
Years have past, we're married with children
Our days are happy and our memories fond
We still find it quite appealin'
To go to Sugar Hill and swim naked in the pond
Sug, Sug, Sug, Sugar Hill memories
Stealin' sugar on the mountaintop
Sug, Sug, Sug, Sugar Hill sugar
Sweeter than ice cream and soda pop
Up on Sugar Hill theres a wealth of treasure
Down its memory lane I go walking still
What it means to me is more than I can measure
Golden moments up on Sugar Hill
Up on Sugar Hill with the fireflies glowin
Sound of katydids and the whipperwill
Honeysuckle bloomin and a mountain stream flowin
A little spot of heaven up on Sugar Hill
Up On Sugar Hill with the bobwhites callin
Black crows cawkin', and the soft wind blows
Up on Sugar Hill there are love birds talkin'
Up on Sugar Hill where the good times roll
Sug, Sug, Sug, Sugar Hill memories
Stealin sugar on the mountainside
Sug, Sug, Sug, Sugar Hill sugar
Sweeter than candy and cakes and pies
A little spot of heaven up on Sugar Hill
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Raven. Christmas Tale, Told By A School-Boy To His Little Brothers And Sisters
Underneath an old oak tree
There was of swine a huge company
That grunted as they crunched the mast
For that was ripe, and fell full fast.
Then they trotted away, for the wind grew high:
One acorn they left, and no more might you spy.
Next came a Raven, that liked not such folly
He belonged, they did say, to the witch Melancholy!
Blacker was he than blackest jet,
Flew low in the rain, and his feathers not wet
He picked up the acorn and buried it straight
By the side of a river both deep and great.
Where then did the Raven go?
He went high and low
Over hill, over dale, did the black Raven go.
Many Autumns, many Springs
Traveled he with wandering wings:
Many summers, many Winters
I can't tell half his adventures.
At length he came back, and with him a She
And the acorn was grown to a tall oak tree.
They built them a nest in the topmost bough,
And young ones they had, and were happy enow.
But soon came a Woodman in leathern guise,
His brow, like a pent-house, hung over his eyes.
He'd an axe in his hand, not a word he spoke,
But with many a hem! and a sturdy stroke,
At length he brought down the poor Raven's own oak.
His young ones were killed; for they could not depart,
And their mother did die of a broken heart.
The boughs from the trunk the Woodman did sever;
And they floated it down on the course of the river.
They sawed it in planks, and its bark they did strip,
And with this tree and others they made a good ship.
The ship, it was launched; but in sight of the land
Such a storm there did rise as no ship would withstand.
It bulged on a rock, and the waves rush'd in fast;
Round and round flew the Raven, and cawed to the blast.
He heard the last shriek of the perishing souls--
See! see! o'er the topmast the mad water rolls!
Right glad was the Raven, and off he went fleet,
And Death riding home on a cloud he did meet,
And he thank'd him again and again for this treat:
They had taken his all; and Revenge it was sweet!
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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The Hill
Who are those people
living at the top of the hill?
I don't know them.
I guess I never will.
Who are the people
that I see
living at the bottom of the hill
just like me?
We are the complainers
and we find it odd
that the ones at the top of the hill
think they're God.
We need to stop complainin'
and climb up the hill
and shout out loud
'We've had our fill.'
You're not Gods.
You never have been,
These hills where you're livin'
are filled with sin.
You've sinned against humanity
at the bottom of the hill.
And all that you'; ve done
is against God's will.
You're the imposters
with crowns on your head.
You are the laughables
that have been misled.
We, at the bottom of the hill
always will survive.
We'll do what we've always done
to keep our hopes alive.
We will pray.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Car On A Hill
Ive been sitting up waiting for my sugar to show
Ive been listening to the sirens and the radio
He said hed be over three hours ago
Ive been waiting for his car on the hill
He makes friends easy
Hes not like me
I watch for judgement anxiously
Now where in the city can that boy be
Waiting for a car
Climbing
Climbing
Climbing the hill
Hes a real good talker--i think hes friend
Fast tires come screaming around the bend
But theres still no buzzer
They roll on...
And-Im waiting for his car on the hill
It always seems so righteous at the start
When theres so much laughter
When theres so much spark
When theres so much sweetness in the dark
Waiting for a car
Climbing
Climbing
Climbing the hill
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woak Hill
When sycamore leaves wer a-spreadèn
Green-ruddy in hedges,
Bezide the red doust o' the ridges,
A-dried at Woak Hill;
I packed up my goods all a sheenèn
Wi' long years o' handlèn,
On dousty red wheel ov a waggon,
To ride at Woak Hill.
The brown thatchen ruf o' the dwellèn,
I then wer a-le{'a}vèn,
Had shelter'd the sleek head o' Me{'a}ry,
My bride at Woak Hill.
But now vor zome years, her light voot-vall
'S a-lost vrom the vloorèn.
Too soon vor my ja{'y} an' my childern,
She died at Woak Hill.
But still I do think that, in soul,
She do hover about us;
To ho vor her motherless childern,
Her pride at Woak Hill.
Zoo--lest she should tell me hereafter
I stole off 'ithout her,
An' left her, uncall'd at house-riddèn,
To bide at Woak Hill--
I call'd her so fondly, wi' lippèns
All soundless to others,
An' took her wi' a{'i}r-reachèn hand,
To my zide at Woak Hill.
On the road I did look round, a-talkèn
To light at my shoulder,
An' then led her in at the doorway,
Miles wide vrom Woak Hill.
An' that's why vo'k thought, vor a season,
My mind wer a-wandrèn
Wi' sorrow, when I wer so sorely
A-tried at Woak Hill.
But no; that my Me{'a}ry mid never
Behold herzelf slighted,
I wanted to think that I guided
My guide vrom Woak Hill.
poem by William Barnes
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Back up the Hill
As I walked down to the river today
I met a man with no legs in a chair
we spoke about life and he stood tall in a way
as I walked down to the river
As I walked on I met a blind girl
who gave me directions just over the hill
for someone like me who was lost she could see
as I walked on to the river
Down by the banks I met a small child
whose mother and father had recently died
and he splashed around with a heartful of life
down by the banks of the river
As I looked in the river I saw a young man
a reflection of me if you understand
who thought he would end it as he coudn't cope
as I looked into the river
Considering the people I met on the way
they didn't give up I heard myself say
and though I believed that I'd been through the mill
I laughed at the river, and walked back up the hill.
poem by Charles M. Moore
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Lavender Hill
I want to walk eternity,
In through the land of make believe.
And watch the clouds roll over me,
And let the sun shine down on me.
The only place that I wanna be,
Lavender hill for me.
Wish I could live on sugar and milk,
Then I could live on lavender hill.
Then I could raise my head to the sky,
And let the sun saturate me with love.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill,
Everybody loves lavender hill.
Even the bird that sits in the tree,
Seems to sing sweet melodies.
Even the breeze is whispering,
Lavender hill for me.
While people eat their biscuits with tea,
They dream of daffodils that sway in the breeze.
And every sunday afternoon,
Tidy ladies shine their shoes.
And every little lady dreams,
Lavender memories.
Lavender hill for me.
Lavender hill for me.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Climb That Hill
Something threw me in the dirt
Kinda got my feelings hurt
We was burnin somewhere down the wind
I had to get up and climb that hill again
Little lucys such a doll
Like to climb her garden wall
But she only sees me as a friend
I got to get up and climb that hill again
I gotta bury my pride, drag this line
Over that hill one more time
Gotta get up in the morning, make my way
Over that hill again
I gotta bury my pride, drag this line
Over that hill one more time
Gotta get up in the morning, make my way
Over that hill again
Tempers flare and the words are spoken
You close one door and another opens
You hear the music and youre wondering
You got to get up and climb that hill
Get up and climb that hill
You got to get up and climb that hill again
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Echo, The Mocking Bird
to produce the echo
i need one single voice
to make the sound
i need the hill and another hill
sort of wall
where the voice is trapped
and bounce
from one corner to another
and there you have
the echo
you are the sound
i am the hill
and another hill
i am many
much many than you
expect
do you see that tree
higher than your roof?
i am that hill beyond
the grassy field
do you see the mockingbird
sitting on the twig?
please do not mention
any name
do not drag
another one
but if no one admits
well,
it could be me
i supposed so, it can be me too.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Glastonbury Song
I dreamed myself from the sultry plains
To the old green square back in old maybole
Rode the wind up to stornaway
Paused at the peak, pacified my soul
Caught the bus at the faery fort
Made it to the mansion on the boyne
See I come around to the ancient ways
I took a tip from the buddha boy
I just found god
I just found god
I just found God where he always was
We came down from the hill of dreams
Bernadette, mother earth and you and me
Through carraroe, down the wildwood side
Blinding out eyes in the shallow seas
Drank fire with the king of the blues,
Plugged in to the medicine way
Took a long last look at crazy horse
Push now for a golden age
I just found god
I just found god
I just found God where he always was
I found myself on the roof of the world
Just waiting for to get my wings
Strange angel in the changing light
Said brother, you forgot something!
My heart beat from the inside out
So lucky just to be alive!
Can you tell what Im talking about?
Any day now the suns gonna rise
I just found god
I just found god
I just found God where he always was
I just found God where he always was
There is a green hill far away
Im going back there one fine day
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woak Hill
When sycamore leaves wer a-spreaden
Green-ruddy in hedges,
Bezide the red doust o' the ridges,
A-dried at Woak Hill;
I packed up my goods, all a-sheenen
Wi' long years o' handlen,
On dousty red wheels ov a waggon,
To ride at Woak Hill.
The brown thatchen ruf o' the dwellen
I then wer a-leaven,
Had sheltered the sleek head o' Meary,
My bride at Woak Hill.
But now vor zome years, her light voot-vall
'S a-lost vrom the vlooren.
To soon vor my jay an' my childern
She died at Woak Hill.
But still I do think that, in soul,
She do hover about us;
To ho vor her motherless childern,
Her pride at Woak Hill.
Zoo—lest she should tell me hereafter
I stole off 'ithout her,
An' left her, uncalled at house-ridden,
To bide at Woak Hill—
I called her so fondly, wi' lippens
All soundless to others,
An' took her wi' air-reachen hand
To my zide at Woak Hill.
On the road I did look round, a-talken
To light at my shoulder,
An' then led her in at the doorway,
Miles wide vrom Woak Hill.
An' that's why vo'k thought, vor a season,
My mind wer a-wandren
Wi' sorrow, when I wer so sorely
A-tried at Woak Hill.
But no; that my Meary mid never
Behold herzelf slighted,
I wanted to think that I guided
My guide vrom Woak Hill.
poem by Ingeborg Bachmann
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