A Wraith Of Summertime
In its color, shade and shine,
'T was a summer warm as wine,
With an effervescent flavoring of flowered bough and vine,
And a fragrance and a taste
Of ripe roses gone to waste,
And a dreamy sense of sun- and moon- and star-light interlaced.
'Twas a summer such as broods
O'er enchanted solitudes,
Where the hand of Fancy leads us through voluptuary moods,
And with lavish love out-pours
All the wealth of out-of-doors,
And woos our feet o'er velvet paths and honeysuckle floors.
'Twas a summertime long dead,--
And its roses, white and red,
And its reeds and water-lilies down along the river-bed,--
O they all are ghostly things--
For the ripple never sings,
And the rocking lily never even rustles as it rings!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Key Note
I dreamed I was dreaming one morn as I lay
In a garden with flowers teeming.
On an island I lay in a mystical bay,
In the dream I dreamed I was dreaming.
The ghost of a scent-had it followed me there
From the place where I truly was resting?
It filled like an anthem the aisles of the air,
The presence of roses attesting.
Yet I thought in the dream that I dreamed I dreamed
That the place was all barren of roses-
That it only seemed; and the place, I deemed,
Was the Isle of Bewildered Noses.
Full many a seaman had testified
How all who sailed near were enchanted,
And landed to search (and in searching died)
For the roses the Sirens had planted.
For the Sirens were dead, and the billows boomed
In the stead of their singing forever;
But the roses bloomed on the graves of the doomed,
Though man had discovered them never.
I though in my dream 'twas an idle tale,
A delusion that mariners cherished-
That the fragrance loading the conscious gale
Was a ghost of a rose long perished.
I said, 'I will fly from this island of woes.'
And acting on that decision,
By that odor of rose I was led by the nose,
For 'twas truly, ah! truly, Elysian.
I ran, in my madness, to seek out the source
Of the redolent river-directed
By some supernatural, sinister force
To a forest, dark, haunted, infected.
And still as I threaded ('twas all in the dream
That I dreamed I was dreaming) each turning
There were many a scream and a sudden gleam
Of eyes all uncannily burning!
The leaves were all wet with a horrible dew
That mirrored the red moon's crescent,
And all shapes were fringed with a ghostly blue,
Dim, wavering, phosphorescent.
But the fragrance divine, coming strong and free,
Led me on, though my blood was clotting,
Till-ah, joy!-I could see, on the limbs of a tree,
Mine enemies hanging and rotting!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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The Key Note
I dreamed I was dreaming one morn as I lay
In a garden with flowers teeming.
On an island I lay in a mystical bay,
In the dream that I dreamed I was dreaming.
The ghost of a scent-had it followed me there
From the place where I truly was resting?
It filled like an anthem the aisles of the air,
The presence of roses attesting.
Yet I thought in the dream that I dreamed I dreamed
That the place was all barren of roses-
That it only seemed; and the place, I deemed,
Was the Isle of Bewildered Noses.
Full many a seaman had testified
How all who sailed near were enchanted,
And landed to search (and in searching died)
For the roses the Sirens had planted.
For the Sirens were dead, and the billows boomed
In the stead of their singing forever;
But the roses bloomed on the graves of the doomed,
Though man had discovered them never.
I thought in my dream 'twas an idle tale,
A delusion that mariners cherished
That the fragrance loading the conscious gale
Was the ghost of a rose long perished.
I said, 'I will fly from this island of woes.'
And acting on that decision,
By that odor of rose I was led by the nose,
For 'twas truly, ah! truly, Elysian.
I ran, in my madness, to seek out the source
Of the redolent river-directed
By some supernatural, sinister force
To a forest, dark, haunted, infected.
And still as I threaded ('twas all in the dream
That I dreamed I was dreaming) each turning
There were many a scream and a sudden gleam
Of eyes all uncannily burning!
The leaves were all wet with a horrible dew
That mirrored the red moon's crescent,
And all shapes were fringed with a ghostly blue,
Dim, wavering, phosphorescent.
But the fragrance divine, coming strong and free,
Led me on, though my blood was clotting,
Till-ah, joy!-I could see, on the limbs of a tree,
Mine enemies hanging and rotting!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Loss
IN the world was one green nook I knew,
Full of roses, roses red and white,
Reddest roses summer ever grew,
Whitest roses ever pearled with dew;
And their sweetness was beyond delight,
Was all love's delight.
Wheresoever in the world I went,
Roses were; for in my heart I took
Blow and blossom and bewildering scent;
Roses never with the summer spent,
Roses always ripening in that nook,
Love's far summer nook.
In the world a soddened plot I know
Blackening in this chill and misty air,
Set with shivering bushes in a row,
One by one the last leaves letting go:
Wheresoe'er I turn I shall be there,
Always sighing there.
Ah, my folly! Ah, my loss, my pain!
Dead, my roses that can blow no more!
Wherefore looked I on our nook again?
Wherefore went I after autumn's rain,
Where the summer roses bloomed before,
Bloomed so sweet before?
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Shamrock Song
O, the red rose may be fair,
And the lily statelier;
But my shamrock, one in three,
Takes the very heart of me!
Many a lover hath the rose
When june's musk-wind breathes and blows:
And in many a bower is heard
Her sweet praise from bee and bird.
Through the gold hours dreameth she,
In her warm heart passionately,
Her fair face hung languid-wise:
O, her breath of honey and spice!
Like a fair saint virginal
Stands your lily, silver and tall;
Over all the flowers that be
Is my shamrock dear to me.
Shines the lily like the sun,
Crystal-pure, a cold, sweet nun;
With her austere lip she sings
To her heart of heavenly things.
Gazeth through a night of June
To her sister-saint, the moon;
With the stars communeth long
Of the angels and their song.
But when summer died last year
Rose and lily died with her;
Shamrock stayeth every day,
Be the winds or gold or grey.
Irish hills, as grey as the dove,
Know the little plant I love;
Warm and fair it mantles them
Stretching down from throat to hem.
And it laughs o'er many a vale,
Sheltered safe from storm and gale;
Sky and sun and stars thereof
Love the gentle plant I love.
Soft it clothes the ruined floor
Of many an abbey, grey and hoar,
And the still home of the dead
With its green is carpeted.
Roses for an hour of love,
With the joy and pain thereof:
Stand my lilies white to see
All for prayer and purity.
These are white as the harvest moon,
Roses flush like the heart of June;
But my shamrock, brave and gay,
Glads the tired eyes every day.
O, the red rose shineth rare,
And the lily saintly fair;
But my shamrock, one in three,
Takes the inmost heart of me!
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Lake
Water lilies load all over
The blue lake amid the woods,
That imparts, while in white circles
Startling, to a boat its moods.
And along the strands I‘m passing
Listening, waiting, in unrest,
That she from the reeds may issue
And fall, gently, on my breast;
That we may jump in the little
Boat, while water‘s voices whelm
All our feelings; that enchanted
I may drop my oars and helm;
That all charmed we may be floating
While moon‘s kindly light surrounds
Us, winds cause the reeds to rustle
And the waving water sounds.
But she does not come; abandoned,
Vainly I endure and sigh
Lonely, as the water lilies
On the blue lake ever lie.
poem by Mihai Eminescu from Poems (Poesii) (September 1876), translated by Dimitrie Cuclin
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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I Want To Sleep On A Bed Of Roses
I want to sleep on a bed of roses,
I want their fragrance to invade our senses,
In the velvet dark night i want you there by my side,
You and me on a bed of roses.
Was just the sunset and it's coming the night,
When love exists, even the silence is full with light,
I want to share my dreams only with you,
You and me on a bed of roses.
And when the sun rise up and light came in,
I want to wake up gently and to feel like a queen,
Surrounded by petals, with a velvet touch,
You and me on a bed of roses.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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The White Lily
By the river bank
The frogs croak and caress
Hoping along the river bank
From here to there
At a distant
The swallows twitter with fondness
The lilies rupture with the morning sun
The water reeds sway
As the wind blows along
The river bank
But yet....i feel lost
In this scenery of dexteric desires
I feel caught in lifes pedestals
Tender steps i make....
Along the river bank...
Lilies..
The white lily...
That symbolise
The purity of those souls
Enmeshed in lovesframe
The white lily
That symbolise
The fire that burns within circles
The white lily that symbolises
Long lost desires
Re-invented and rejuvenated
In this river of dexteric desires
The white lily
So white...so pure...
By the river bank
I watch the white lily float and dance
Along the river waters
Their is tenderness in the river
The fishes swim with tenderness
The waters flowing
With a lovers moan
Rythmic drums can be heard from afar
Magic everywhere
I sit and stare at the white lily
With a longing yen....
By the river bank.
poem by Jack Shaka
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Strawberry Wine
He was working through college on my grandpa's farm.
I was thirsting for knowledge and he had a car.
I was caught somewhere between a woman and a child.
One restless summer we found love growing wild.
On the banks of the river on a well beaten path.
It's funny how those memories they last.
Like strawberry wine and seventeen.
The hot July moon saw everything.
My first taste of love oh bittersweet.
Green on the vine.
Like strawberry wine.
I still remember when thirty was old.
And my biggest fear was September when he had to go.
A few cards and letters and one long distance call.
We drifted away like the leaves in the fall.
But year after year I come back to this place.
Just to remember the taste.
Of strawberry wine and seventeen.
The hot July moon saw everything.
My first taste of love oh bittersweet.
Green on the vine.
Like strawberry wine.
The fields have grown over now.
Years since they've seen the plow.
There's nothing time hasn't touched.
Is it really him or the loss of my innocence.
I've been missing so much.
Like strawberry wine and seventeen.
The hot July moon saw everything.
My first taste of love oh bittersweet.
Green on the vine.
Like strawberry wine.
song performed by by Dixie Chicks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The New Moon
What have you got in your knapsack fair,
White moon, bright moon, pearling the air,
Spinning your bobbins and fabrics free,
Fleet moon, sweet moon, in to the sea?
Turquoise and beryl and rings of gold,
Clear moon, dear moon, ne’er to be sold?
Roses and lilies, romance and love,
Still moon, chill moon, swinging above?
Slender your feet as a white birds throat,
High moon, shy moon, drifting your boat
Into the murk of the world awhile,
Slim moon, dim moon, adding a smile.
Tender your eyes as a maiden’s kiss,
Fine moon, wine moon, no one knows this,
Under the spell of your witchery,
Dream moon, cream moon, first he kissed me.
poem by Zora Bernice May Cross
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Slow Summer Dancin'
I'll set the stage while she's still dancing
I'll make the music soft and slow
Then i'll turn down the lights
Make things just right
For every slow song that we know
Over and over again
One summer night
(do do do)
We fell in love
One summer night
I held you tight
(one summer, one summer)
You and i
(one summer, one summer)
Under the moon for love
(ooo one summer, one summer)
We'll spin around this room together
I'll treat my angel really nice
We'll fall in love, we'll fall forever
Thank god for lazy summer nights
Over and over again
One summer night
(do do do)
(one summer, one summer)
I kissed your lips
(one summer, one summer)
One summer night
(one summer, one summer)
I held you close
(one summer, one summer)
You and i
(one summer, one summer)
Under the moon of love
(ooo one summer, one summer)
(one summer, one summer)
One summer night
(one summer, one summer)
(one summer, one summer)
(one summer, one summer)
(one summer, one summer)
(one summer, one summer)
(one summer, one summer)
One summer night
(one summer, one summer)
Under the moon of love
(ooo one summer, one summer)
Under the moon of love
(ooo one summer, one summer)
Under the moon of
Love
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slow Summer Dancin' (One Summer Night)
I'll set the stage while she's still dancing
I'll make the music soft and slow
Then I'll turn down the lights
Make things just right
For every slow song that we know
Over and over again
One summer night
(Do do do)
We fell in love
One summer night
I held you tight
(One summer, one summer)
You and I
(One summer, one summer)
Under the moon for love
(Ooo one summer, one summer)
We'll spin around this room together
I'll treat my angel really nice
We'll fall in love, we'll fall forever
Thank God for lazy summer nights
Over and over again
One summer night
(Do do do)
(One summer, one summer)
I kissed your lips
(One summer, one summer)
One summer night
(One summer, one summer)
I held you close
(One summer, one summer)
You and I
(One summer, one summer)
Under the moon of love
(Ooo one summer, one summer)
(One summer, one summer)
One summer night
(One summer, one summer)
(One summer, one summer)
(One summer, one summer)
(One summer, one summer)
(One summer, one summer)
(One summer, one summer)
One summer night
(One summer, one summer)
Under the moon of love
(Ooo one summer, one summer)
Under the moon of love
(Ooo one summer, one summer)
Under the moon of
Love
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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River Lilies
Saw a boy three lilies white,
Lilies in the river,
Half heart-open to the light,
Full of golden arrows bright,
Each a silver quiver.
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
Said the boy, “I’ll pluck you there,
Lilies in the river!”
Said the lilies, “If you dare
You shall drown, or homeward fare
Dripping and a-shiver!”
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
Wilful still the boy would clasp
Lilies in the river;
Tumbled in ere he could grasp,
Scrambled out with puff and gasp,
Plucked no lilies ever.
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Summer Light...
Summer Light -Thru the Trees
Summer Light - Spotted Me
Summer Light - Palest Gold
Summer Light - Bright and Bold
I Saw Summer Light Descend
Summer Light, Made Shadows Bend
Summer Light, On An Emerald Pond
I Reached Out… It Touched My Palm
Summer Light, It Fell Like Powder
Or a Floating Incandescent Feather
Came Down, Like A Sheer, White Swan
Summer Light – Lifted Wing-Like Arms
So Sunrays Slanted – Shone-Misty
Summer Light-Beams, Embraced Me
Warm, Wonderful Summer Light
Touch Me Tender, Solar- Might
Summer Light, When I Was Lost
Summer Light, Found Me Before Frost
Summer Light - None Else Looked For Me…
Summer Light Said, “I Always See…”
I Love Summer Light
poem by MoonBee Canady
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Rose...
gift you a rose, ,
gift you my rose....
but my rose to you, is not like any rose in this world...
a rose drunk from my tears...
a rose that i take care about it by my soul...
a rose gave it a water by my blood...
and perfumed it by my love....
my rose to you, is not like an roses...
its color not like any colors...
its not a red...
and its not a white...
even not a yellow...
its color pick up from the suns` yellow color..
and mix from the seas` blue color...
and from my bloods` drops..
and from my tears...
so.. its color was mixed with my sadness and my love...
my rose to you, is not like any roses...
its perfume is not like any perfume..
its a mix between a loves` nectar...
and many of kindness, and honesty love...
my rose to you, is not like any roses...
raised inside my heart...
and takes a warm light, from my eyes` light...
and its food, from the hope, that we always wish...
and from our future, which will gather us to each others one day...
so please accept and take my rose...
poem by Hazem Al Jaber
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Questions
What do the roses do, mother,
Now that the summer's done?
They lie in the bed that is hung with red
And dream about the sun.
What do the lilies do, mother,
Now that there's no more June?
Each one lies down in her white nightgown
And dreams about the moon.
What can I dream of, mother,
With the moon and the sun away?
Of a rose unborn, of an untried thorn,
And a lily that lives a day!
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas Roses
THE summer roses all are gone--
Dead, laid in shroud of rain-wet mould;
And passion's lightning time is done,
And Love is laid out white and cold.
Summer and youth for us are dead,
What do old age and winter bring instead?
They bring us memories of old years,
And Christmas roses, cold and sweet,
Which, washed by not unhappy tears,
I bring and lay beside your feet,
With gifts that come with flowers like these--
Friendship, remembrance of our past, and peace!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Venus in the Garden
'Twas at early morning,
The dawn was blushing in her purple bed,
When in a sweet, embowered garden
She, the fairest of the goddesses,
The lovely Venus,
Roamed amongst the roses white and red.
She sought for flowers
To make a garland
For her golden head.
Snow-white roses, blood-red roses,
In that sweet garden close,
Offered incense to the goddess:
Both the white and the crimson rose.
White roses, red roses, blossoming:
But the fair Venus knew
The crimson roses had gained their hue
From the hearts that for love had bled;
And the goddess made a garland
Gathered from the roses red.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Last Days of Summer
Breathe the joy of summer for one more day
Bask in the shade of accommodating trees
Smell the sweet fragrance of lilies and roses
Watch, as golden nectar is gathered by bees
The blueness of the sky is calm and peaceful
Elongating wisps of chalky white smoke trails
Streak silently across the highest elevations
A glint of sliver leads the heavenly portrayal
Young sidewalk artists add a dazzling flavor
Rainbows and butterflies decorate the concrete
Outlines of elephants and tigers roam carefree
Ex outsmarts circle with a diagonal defeat
Crowns of branches are brushed with tinges of gold
Breezes intensify as leaves cascade to the ground
Dark rain clouds invade, erasing summer fantasies
Cooling joyful summer dreams as the rain pounds
9/8/07
poem by Theresa Ann Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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God's Acre
’NEATH the spiring of spruces
Above the blue sea,
Lo, a field of white crosses,
A garden of grief!
—And a riot of roses,
Of red and white roses,
Rich Death! all in blossom,
Fair Loss! all in leaf.
Aye, their warm cherub-cheeks
To cold marble they press;
With sweet summer-kisses
Dead names they caress;
Yon tomb, see, all garlands,
All roses this cross!
—So breathe, my lamenting!
So bloom, O my loss!
poem by Blanche Edith Baughan
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A Song Of Delight
Oh! Have you stolen out, one summer morning
To pick white crocus ‘neath the garden wall,
Or shaken softly the big scented roses
And watched the dew-drops fall?
Or slipt beneath the rail fence, grey with lichen,
And found the little brown path to the creek
In the deep hush of morn when all was silent
And soft airs fanned your cheek?
And caught he subtle scent of earth and mosses,
Of tender water-violets blue and white,
Or heard a little brown bird thrill with rapture,
Deep-hidden out of sight.
Or have you tracked a ‘coachman’s whip’ at noon-day
Through spicy scrub with tropic orchids gay,
Following its mocking ‘whish-h’ with eager footsteps
Until it dies away?
Oh have you caught the breath of glowing summer,
Rich with ripe passion-fruit and blackberry wine? –
Gone berry-hunting by the river reaches,
Where dancing waters shine?
Or have you seem the deep scrub-aisles by moonlight,
Where scented jasmine gleamed amid the shade,
Where moonrays lit great banks of white rock-lilies –
And listened unafraid.
To the soft stir of unseen life about you?
Give thanks to God, then, for your heart is right,
The treasure-house of Nature yours forever-
Her realms of pure delight.
poem by Alice Guerin Crist
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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