Home At Night
When chirping crickets fainter cry,
And pale stars blossom in the sky,
And twilight's gloom has dimmed the bloom
And blurred the butterfly:
When locust-blossoms fleck the walk,
And up the tiger-lily stalk
The glow-worm crawls and clings and falls
And glimmers down the garden-walls:
When buzzing things, with double wings
Of crisp and raspish flutterings,
Go whizzing by so very nigh
One thinks of fangs and stings:--
O then, within, is stilled the din
Of crib she rocks the baby in,
And heart and gate and latch's weight
Are lifted--and the lips of Kate.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Related quotes
Among All Lovely Things My Love Had Been
AMONG all lovely things my Love had been;
Had noted well the stars, all flowers that grew
About her home; but she had never seen
A glow-worm, never one, and this I knew.
While riding near her home one stormy night
A single glow-worm did I chance to espy;
I gave a fervent welcome to the sight,
And from my horse I leapt; great joy had I.
Upon a leaf the glow-worm did I lay,
To bear it with me through the stormy night:
And, as before, it shone without dismay;
Albeit putting forth a fainter light.
When to the dwelling of my Love I came,
I went into the orchard quietly;
And left the glow-worm, blessing it by name,
Laid safely by itself, beneath a tree.
The whole next day, I hoped, and hoped with fear;
At night the glow-worm shone beneath the tree;
I led my Lucy to the spot, 'Look here,'
Oh! joy it was for her, and joy for me!
poem by William Wordsworth
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Golden fantasy
In the dark of night behind my walls
I fade away when nature calls
And thinks of you in sudden lust
To find in fantasy...... I must.
I imagine your lips, your supple breasts
touching my lips and my gentle chest.
I feel and taste the tender sweet
OH so vivid I hold this treat.
I come upon you with my tender weight
and open with love your garden gate.
I plant my love, my beautiful love
in your garden that is sent from above.
I dig deep
between your narrow walls so steep
I enter thy chamber, thy walls so smooth
and move with the motion and return to sooth.
I treasure these twist and turns
but being just a fantasy it burns.
for every times the surface should crack
the sexy voices pull me back.
poem by C.F Francis
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Bridal Eve
GOOD-NIGHT, my Heart, my Heart, good-night--
Oh, good and dear and fair,
With lips of life and eyes of light
And roses in your hair.
To-morrow brings the other crown,
The orange blossoms, Sweet,
And then the rose will be cast down
With lilies at your feet.
But in your soul a garden stands
Where fair the white rose blows--
God, teach my foolish clumsy hands
The way to tend my rose.
That in the white-rose garden still
The lily may bloom fair
God help my heart and soul and will
To keep the lily there.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Blossom
A LONE rose in a garden burned—a quivering flame,
But yesterday blindly from out the bud it came;
And now an envious wind with itching fingers leant
And touched its lingering beauty, and the petals went
Upon the twilight tossing swift,
Like little dusky boats adrift.
Then in the birth and doom of that brief rose I saw
The long unrolling of creation's one vast law.
All things were blossom, and God thrilled at that flower's birth
As when from night-sheathed chaos broke this blossom-earth.
For God no large or little knows—
A universe slept in the rose.
The scattered star-mist, that dishevelled trails through Space,
Hears the low whisper of the Spring, and to its place
Whirls vastly, and its bulk with aching life is torn,
And with a pang that shakes all Space a sun is born
But God on it bestows the heed
He gives to any wayside weed.
About it bloom the planets, like a pageantry
Of rival blossoms in a garden-galaxy.
They break and wane and wither, till upon some earth,
Faded and chill and shrunken, a pallid thing has birth;
And on a world weary with strife
Creeps forth the efflorescence Life.
Strange vegetations fiercely bloom and fall from sight;
Monsters uncouth are spawned, and sink into the night;
Huge mountains blossom white beneath the ocean spray;
Vast tropics glow where once the glacier-ice held sway—
Till, like a lichen on the stone,
Comes Man, bearing a soul unknown.
The lichen spreads, and civilisations grow forlorn,
Bloom once, and, dying, blight the place where they were born.
Incomparable, unique, each in lone splendour burns;
Each bears one perfect grace that nevermore returns.
Ah! gone is sculptured Egypt—gone
The blossom that was Babylon!
The lotus of the East, the Grecian lily cold—
Each blossoms only one new beauty to unfold.
And this rich rose, the West, that opens now so vast,
Shall tell its message, then upon the night be cast.
But still God scatters through the gloom
New seeds whence nobler flowers shall bloom.
And æons rise and fade, and still the petal-years
Fall from the trembling stem of Time, that proudly rears
Space, like the last huge blossom of the far-thrown seed;
And Space itself shall wither like a trampled weed.
But in the void the Sower still
Scatters new seed, until—until…
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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Life Blossoms into vitality
Petals blossoms into flowers,
Clouds blossom into rain,
Seeds blossoms into trees,
Minutes blossom into hours,
Bricks blossom into dwellings,
Anger blossoms into destruction,
Exuberance blossoms into newness,
Nervousness blossoms into exhaustion,
Teamwork blossoms into unity,
Perseverance blossoms into success,
Beauty blossoms into enchantment,
Intrigue blossoms into enigma,
Trends blossom into innovations,
Eggs blossom into fledglings,
Rose blossoms into scent,
Sun blossoms into optimism,
Stars blossom into radiation,
Soil blossoms into vegetation,
Art blossoms into exoticism,
Ice blossoms into waterfalls,
Fire blossoms into compassion,
Imagination blossoms into concepts,
Wine blossoms into sedation,
War blossoms into hatred,
Pearls blossom into resplendence,
Dreams blossom into floatation,
Fashion blossoms into style,
Roots blossom into stem,
Salt blossoms into tanginess,
Strength blossoms into fortitude,
Resilience blossoms into conviction,
Surrender blossoms into despair,
Truth blossoms into harmony,
Relationships blossom into empathy,
Violence blossoms into prejudice,
Discrimination blossoms into bloodshed,
Scalp blossoms into hair,
Love blossoms into passion,
Peace blossoms into solidarity,
Rainbow blossoms into vivacity,
Endeavor blossoms into sweetness,
Tunes blossom into songs,
Mind blossoms into ingenuity,
Wilderness blossoms into mysticism,
Flames blossom into ardor,
Corpses blossom into ghosts,
Retreat blossoms into sadness,
Bondage blossoms into rebel,
Faith blossoms into worship,
Infidelity blossoms into nemesis,
Idiosyncrasy blossoms into nothingness,
Spiders blossom into webs,
Benevolence blossoms into humanity,
Independence blossoms into character,
Renunciation blossoms into divine,
Introspection blossoms into discovering,
Emotions blossom into yearning,
Death blossoms into extinction,
And life blossoms into vitality…..
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Le Jardin
The lily's withered chalice falls
Around its rod of dusty gold,
And from the beech-trees on the wold
The last wood-pigeon coos and calls.
The gaudy leonine sunflower
Hangs black and barren on its stalk,
And down the windy garden walk
The dead leaves scatter, - hour by hour.
Pale privet-petals white as milk
Are blown into a snowy mass:
The roses lie upon the grass
Like little shreds of crimson silk.
poem by Oscar Wilde
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At Parting II
AND you could leave me now--
After the first remembered whispered vow
Which sings for ever and ever in my ears--
The vow which God among His Angels hears--
After the long-drawn years,
The slow hard tears,
Could break new ground, and wake
A new strange garden to blossom for your sake,
And leave me here alone,
In the old garden that was once our own?
How should I learn to bear
Our garden's pleasant ways and pleasant air,
Her flowers, her fruits, her lily, her rose and thorn,
When only in a picture these appear--
These, once alive, and always over-dear?
Ah--think again: the rose you used to wear
Must still be more than other roses be
The flower of flowers. Ah, pity, pity me!
For in my acres is no plot of ground
Whereon could any garden site be found,
I have but little skill
To water weed and till
And make the desert blossom like the rose;
Yet our old garden knows
If I have loved its ways and walks and kept
The garden watered, and the pleasance swept.
Yet--if you must--go now:
Go, with my blessing filling both your hands,
And, mid the desert sands
Which life drifts deep round every garden wall,
Make your new festival
Of bud and blossom--red rose and green leaf.
No blight born of my grief
Shall touch your garden, love; but my heart's prayer
Shall draw down blessings on you from the air,
And all we learned of leaf and plant and tree
Shall serve you when you walk no more with me
In garden ways; and when with her you tread
The pleasant ways with blossoms overhead
And when she asks, 'How did you come to know
The secrets of the ways these green things grow?'
Then you will answer--and I, please God, hear,
'I had another garden once, my dear'.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Tiger- past predator: present prey!
Tiger, Tiger, poached for hide!
By Man’s bullets many died;
Bones and claws of thine are dried;
Poachers have thee crucified.
Past predator, now a prey!
Recklessly killed every day;
Thy extinction is so nigh;
Mortality of thine’s high.
Lord of Jungle, O Tiger!
Hast thou become much tamer?
Thy reserves have dwindled fast;
Wilt thou soon be thing of past?
Oh, what sinews, what muscles!
Victor of fiercest tussles;
Thou with agility stalk;
Despite weight, thou canst cat-walk!
No beast dare challenge thy might;
Thine eyes glimmer green at night;
Thou live in forests so dense;
Mighty beast- ’tis no pretence.
Frightens thy roar every beast;
Stalk thou grassland’s beasts for feast;
What strength fills thy graceful frame!
Jungle Lord, wherefrom thou came?
poem by John Celes
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Torn Butterfly
Torn butterfly torn butterfly
Seeing you there it makes me cry
Torn butterfly your wings they tore
From the weight that they bore
Torn butterfly it's plain to see
That you are just the same as me
Torn butterfly the world is tough
Hard as stones and just as rough
Torn butterfly I know your pain
And I don't want to know it again
Torn butterfly come join me now
And we'll regain our wings somehow
Torn butterfly it's sad but true
In death our wings become brand new
Torn butterfly just fade away
And we will fly this very day
Torn butterfly this note I send
And hope that you will cause your end
So we can fly in clear blue skies
Where no one hurts and no one cries
Torn butterfly with my last breath
I ask you to come join me in death
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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Ylladmar
Her hair was, oh, so dense a blur
Of darkness, midnight envied her;
And stars grew dimmer in the skies
To see the glory of her eyes;
And all the summer rain of light
That showered from the moon at night
Fell o'er her features as the gloom
Of twilight o'er a lily-bloom.
The crimson fruitage of her lips
Was ripe and lush with sweeter wine
Than burgundy or muscadine
Or vintage that the burgher sips
In some old garden on the Rhine:
And I to taste of it could well
Believe my heart a crucible
Of molten love--and I could feel
The drunken soul within me reel
And rock and stagger till it fell.
And do you wonder that I bowed
Before her splendor as a cloud
Of storm the golden-sandaled sun
Had set his conquering foot upon?
And did she will it, I could lie
In writhing rapture down and die
A death so full of precious pain
I'd waken up to die again.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Pixy People
It was just a very
Merry fairy dream!--
All the woods were airy
With the gloom and gleam;
Crickets in the clover
Clattered clear and strong,
And the bees droned over
Their old honey-song.
In the mossy passes,
Saucy grasshoppers
Leapt about the grasses
And the thistle-burs;
And the whispered chuckle
Of the katydid
Shook the honeysuckle
Blossoms where he hid.
Through the breezy mazes
Of the lazy June,
Drowsy with the hazes
Of the dreamy noon,
Little Pixy people
Winged above the walk,
Pouring from the steeple
Of a mullein-stalk.
One--a gallant fellow--
Evidently King,--
Wore a plume of yellow
In a jewelled ring
On a pansy bonnet,
Gold and white and blue,
With the dew still on it,
And the fragrance, too.
One--a dainty lady,--
Evidently Queen,--
Wore a gown of shady
Moonshine and green,
With a lace of gleaming
Starlight that sent
All the dewdrops dreaming
Everywhere she went.
One wore a waistcoat
Of roseleaves, out and in,
And one wore a faced-coat
Of tiger-lily-skin;
And one wore a neat coat
Of palest galingale;
And one a tiny street-coat,
And one a swallow-tail.
And Ho! sang the King of them,
And Hey! sang the Queen;
And round and round the ring of them
Went dancing o'er the green;
And Hey! sang the Queen of them,
And Ho! sang the King--
And all that I had seen of them
--Wasn't anything!
It was just a very
Merry fairy dream!--
All the woods were airy
With the gloom and gleam;
Crickets in the clover
Clattered clear and strong,
And the bees droned over
Their old honey-song!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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A Garden Of Girls
KATE is like a violet, Gertrude's like a rose,
Jane is like a gillyflower smart;
But Laura's like a lily, the purest bud that blows,
Whose white, white petals veil the golden heart.
Girls in the garden--one and two and three--
One for song and one for play and one--ah, one for me!
Gillyflowers and violets and roses fair and fine,
But only one a lily, and that one lily mine!
Bertha is a hollyhock, stately, tall, and fair,
Mabel has the daisy's dainty grace,
Edith has the gold of the sunflower on her hair,
But Laura wears the lily in her face.
Girls in the garden--five and six and seven--
Three to take, and three to give, but one--ah! one is given--
Hollyhocks and daisies, and sunflowers like the sun,
But only one a lily, and that one lily won.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Rocking the Baby
I hear her rocking the baby--
Her room is next to mine--
And I fancy I feel the dimpled arms
That round her neck entwine,
As she rocks and rocks the baby,
In the room just next to mine.
I hear her rocking the baby
Each day when the twilight comes,
And I know there's a world of blessing and love
In the 'baby by' she hums.
I can see the restless fingers
Playing with 'mamma's rings,'
The sweet little smiling, pouting mouth
That to hers in kissing clings,
As she rocks and sings to the baby,
And dreams as she rocks and sings.
I hear her rocking the baby,
Slower and slower now,
And I hear she is leaving her good-night kiss
On its eyes, and cheek and brow.
From her rocking, rocking, rocking,
I wonder would she start
Could she know, through the wall between us,
She is rocking on a heart?
While my empty arms are aching
For a form they may not press,--
And my empty heart is breaking
In its desolate loneliness.
I list to the rocking, rocking,
In the room just next to mine,
And breathe a prayer in silence,
At a mother's broken shrine,
For the woman who rocks the baby
In the room just next to mine.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Lily Adair
On the beryl-rimmed rebecs of Ruby,
Brought fresh from the hyaline streams,
She played, on the banks of the Yuba,
Such songs as she heard in her dreams.
Like the heavens, when the stars from their cyries
Look down through the ebon night air,
Were the groves by the Ouphantic Fairies
Lit up for my Lily Adair—
For my child-like Lily Adair—
For my heaven-born Lily Adair—
For my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
Like two rose-leaves in sunshine when blowing,
Just curled softly, gently apart,
Were her lips by her passion, while growing
In perfume on the stalk of her heart.
As mild as the sweet influences
Of the Pleiades 'pregning the air—
More mild than the throned Excellencies
Up in heaven, was my Lily Adair—
Was my Christ-like Lily Adair—
Was my lamb-like Lily Adair—
Was my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
At the birth of this fair virgin Vestal,
She was taken for Venus' child;
And her voice, though like diamond in crystal,
Was not more melodious than mild.
Like the moon in her soft silver splendor,
She was shrined in her own, past compare,
For no Angel in heaven was more tender
Than my beautiful Lily Adair—
Than my dove-like Lily Adair—
Than my saint-like Lily Adair—
Than my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
Thus she stood on the arabesque borders
Of the beautiful blossoms that blew
On the banks of the crystalline waters,
Every morn, in the diaphane dew.
The flowers, they were radiant with glory,
And shed such perfume on the air,
That my soul, now to want them, feels sorry,
And bleeds for my Lily Adair—
For my much-loved Lily Adair—
For my long-lost Lily Adair—
For my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
poem by Thomas Holley Chivers (1853)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Tiger
Tiger with coat of dissimilar stripes,
When he’s angry, tiger swipes,
Tiger cautious, guarding his lair,
Danger lurking, tiger aware.
Tiger hungry so he hunts,
Facing quarry, tiger confronts.
Tiger waiting, being sly,
Undercover, no tiger espy.
Tiger detects, now he purrs,
Hunger pangs, tiger stirs.
Tiger quick, must now surprise,
Here we have one tiger, wise.
Tiger from his throat he roars,
Stretching out those tiger claws.
Tiger moving, stealthy pelt,
Expiration, by tiger dealt.
Tiger now with belly filled,
Anger passed, one tiger stilled.
Tiger sleeping, with the Pride,
Craving gone, tiger satisfied.
Tiger such a majestic sight,
Near extinction, tiger fight.
Tiger beautiful and fine,
You’re such a leonine feline.
Tiger we must have respect, ,
For your great tiger intellect.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Butterfly Wings
Butterfly wings
As fluttering brings
The most sensuous touch.
Kisses that thrill.
Our bodies that spill
The perfume of love.
When they tingle so much.
That featherlight ache
Ends in earthquake.
With songs of the soul,
Cried out in the night.
Our eyes set alight
As we burn as one.
That tickle inside
That stings.
Teased by unquenchable bliss.
Oh baby
Those butterfly wings
Of your kiss.
poem by Kevin East
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So Glow
Sail with me
sail with me in my sea honey
leave your sadness behind
leave this blue
this gloom
baby
sail with this boom
Don't worry about what
so loom
Roam with romance
Spool with the rock
And roll
Don't be gloom
so
move baby
this cloudy
seal of cry
Your smiley
Baby face
as sheen of noon
What this gloom
Not yours
so
let it go
In smoke
You so sweet
so
baby don't goof
I need your galaxy and your glow
And the good look of your glamour
You as the dawns
shake of the doom
So
and as the moon
Baby
Am your groom
You are bloom
take off
this hood
Turn with glow
so
Glide baby with the beams of your gleams
As the sun rise
In the noon
You the morning glary
For sure
and so
You make a shade glaze
At the full moon
so
baby
make my nights
like after noon
poem by Sallam Yassin
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My Poem
if my poem has lifted you up
makes you feel flitting away
like a butterfly, walk in a gait
faster, tighter and graceful like
a top model, likewise, it would
have made me bloom like the
most beautiful flower in the garden
petals, pistlls, luscious, colourful,
showering bliss
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Oh why butterfly?
His wings of jade and amber,
Wink, like gilt pennants in the sun.
Oh why butterfly?
Just flutter on by.
As he twists and he tumbles,
He sheds tears of childish glee.
Oh why butterfly?
Escape to the sky.
Dark nights are ever nearer,
But he sings his carefree song.
Oh why butterfly?
For winter is nigh
The frost set hard on my butterfly,
His glowing eyes were lifeless.
His beautiful wings lost all their shine.
Oh why butterfly?
I hear your cry.
-9.10pm 2nd January 2001, age 14 -
poem by Amy J Richardson
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The Water Lily
A lonely young wife
In her dreaming discerns
A lily-decked pool
With a border of ferns,
And a beautiful child,
With butterfly wings,
Trips down to the edge of the water and sings:
‘Come, mamma! come!
‘Quick! follow me—
‘Step out on the leaves of the water-lily!’
And the lonely young wife,
Her heart beating wild,
Cries, ‘Wait till I come,
‘Till I reach you, my child!’
But the beautiful child
With butterfly wings
Steps out on the leaves of the lily and sings:
‘Come, mamma! come!
‘Quick! follow me!
‘And step on the leaves of the water-lily!
And the wife in her dreaming
Steps out on the stream,
But the lily leaves sink
And she wakes from her dream.
Ah, the waking is sad,
For the tears that it brings,
And she knows ’tis her dead baby’s spirit that sings:
‘Come, mamma! come!
‘Quick! follow me!
‘Step out on the leaves of the water-lily!’
poem by Henry Lawson
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