En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Found

Once through the forest

Alone I went;
To seek for nothing

My thoughts were bent.

I saw i' the shadow

A flower stand there
As stars it glisten'd,

As eyes 'twas fair.

I sought to pluck it,-

It gently said:
'Shall I be gather'd

Only to fade?'

With all its roots

I dug it with care,
And took it home

To my garden fair.

In silent corner

Soon it was set;
There grows it ever,

There blooms it yet.

poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Friendship's Flower

Life is like a garden
And friendship like a flower,
That blooms and grows in beauty
With the sunshine and the shower.

And lovely are the blossoms
That are tended with great care,
By those who work unselfishly
To make the place more fair.

And, like the garden blossoms,
Friendship's flower grows more sweet
When watched and tended carefully
By those we know and meet.

And, if the seed of friendship
Is planted deep and true
And watched with understanding,
Friendship's flower will bloom for you.

poem by Winniek Koh
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FriendShip Flowers

Life is like a garden
And friendship like a flower,
That blooms and grows in beauty
With the sunshine and the shower.

And lovely are the blossoms
That are tended with great care,
By those who work unselfishly
To make the place more fair.

And, like the garden blossoms,
Friendship's flower grows more sweet
When watched and tended carefully
By those we know and meet.

And, if the seed of friendship
Is planted deep and true
And watched with understanding,
Friendship's flower will bloom for you (

poem by Mazher Sheikh
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When I Was Fair And Young

When I was fair and young, then favor graced me.
Of many was I sought their mistress for to be.
But I did scorn them all and answered them therefore:

Go, go, go, seek some other where; importune me no more.
How many weeping eyes I made to pine in woe,
How many sighing hearts I have not skill to show,
But I the prouder grew and still this spake therefore:

Go, go, go, seek some other where, importune me no more.
Then spake fair Venus’ son, that proud victorious boy,
Saying: You dainty dame, for that you be so coy,
I will so pluck your plumes as you shall say no more:

Go, go, go, seek some other where, importune me no more.
As soon as he had said, such change grew in my breast
That neither night nor day I could take any rest.
Wherefore I did repent that I had said before:
Go, go, go, seek some other where, importune me no more.

poem by Queen Elizabeth I
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The Flower By The Path

A FLOWER was growing alone,
Then alone and for ever alone:
Some one came by,
Saw the flower how fair it had grown,
Chose it, plucked it to die.

And what is a flower alone,
Then alone and for ever alone,
Come no one by?
Why should a flower be fair for its own?
Choose it, pluck it to die.

poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Where the passion flower grows

Lay down on your pillow
and turn the lights down low
let me take you to the garden
where the passion flower grows

Close your eyes and enter dreams
as love's emotion sets the scene
and flitters through the garden
where the passion flower grows

Touch the tender petals
of the flower as she grows
a tentative endeavour
as your feelings overflow

Let me draw you to the place
where ecstasy can be embraced
the beauty of the garden
where the passion flower grows

Feel your mind exploding
in the heavy scented air
experience the shiver
as your captured unaware

A little touch of heaven
where imagination flows
the valley in the garden
where the passion flower grows.

poem by Charles M. Moore
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My Garden Fair

Flowers are blooming in
my garden fair. Their
sweet perfume fills the
air. My Garden fair is
beautiful to see., with all
its glory surrounding me.
My garden fair is romantic
and bright, and so redeeming
in sunlight where song birds
nestle in the trees, and sing
with each flowing breeze.
My garden fair is a glorious
sight, that I rush to greet
at twilight my garden fair is
most supreme with such lovely
enchanting scenes.

poem by Dr. Janice Marie Murrell
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Love is like a delicate flower

Love is like a delicate flower.
But no water is needed for its existence.
Only gentle words to feed its roots,
and passion to help it grow.
Trust to help it stand against the breeze
Kindness to carry its pollen far.

And as this flower grows,
so does the wonder of life
never alone will one soul be,
as long as the flower blooms
No frost to shatter its fragility.

poem by Ben Littlechild
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The Heaven Door

silent public road
shimmer of public road lamp
as flower in garden
flower in my love garden
following dark side becoming shadow
life which sometimes leap the exhilaration
but on the other side dwindle
in silent corner
without meaning
only suffer the eye
for a while future still mist
by smoke incense
the incense and supertitous formula
what cannot reach
the heaven door

poem by Prasetya Utama
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A Memory

Adown the grass-grown paths we strayed,
The evening cowslips ope’d
Their yellow eyes to look at her,
The love-sick lilies moped
With envy that she rather chose
To take a creamy-petalled rose
And lean it 'gainst her ebon hair,
All in that garden fair.

A languid breeze, with stolen scent
Of box-bloom in his grasp,
Sighed out his longing in her ear,
And with his dying gasp
Scattered the perfume at her feet
To blend with others not less sweet;
He loved her, but she did not care,
All in that garden fair.

The rose she honoured nodded down,
His comrades burst with spite:
Poor fool! he knew not he was doomed
To barely last the night;
Are hearts to her but as that flower,
The plaything of a careless hour,
To lacerate and never spare
All in that garden fair.

I held her hand that I might trace
Her fortune in its palm;
A bolder moonbeam than the rest
Crept up and kissed her arm,
And, kissing once, was loth to leave,
So hid himself within the sleeve
That clasped the lithe arm, white and bare,
All in that garden fair.

I traced her fortune: love and wealth,-
Tho’ life, alas! was short,
But will that wealth be bought with love?
Or love with wealth be bought?
I know not, knowing only this -
Her hand seemed waiting for a kiss,
I longed to, but I did not dare
All in that garden fair.

But she, alas! is not for me,
And I am not for her;
Yet ever deep within my thoughts
A faint regret must stir
A thrill of longing - that among
Those moonlit paths with lover's tongue
I might return, and woo her there
All in that garden fair.

poem by Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
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A Pastoral

On a hill there grows a flower,
Fair befall the dainty sweet!
By that flower there is a bower
Where the heavenly Muses meet.

In the bower there is a chair,
Fringed all about with gold,
Where doth sit the fairest fair
That did ever eye behold.

It is Phyllis fair and bright,
She that is the shepherds' joy;
She that Venus did despite,
And did blind her little boy.

This is she, the wise, the rich,
That the world desires to see;
This is ipsa quae the which
There is none but only she.

Who would not this face admire?
Who would not this saint adore?
Who would not this sight desire,
Though he thought to see no more?

O fair eyes! yet let me see
One good look, and I am gone;
Look on me, for I am he,
Thy poor silly Corydon.

Thou that art the shepherds' queen,
Look upon thy silly swain;
By thy comfort have been seen
Dead men brought to life again.

Make him live that, dying long,
Never durst for comfort seek:
Thou shalt hear so sweet a song
Never shepherd sung the like.

poem by Nicholas Breton
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A Pastoral Of Phyllis And Corydon

On a hill there grows a flower,
Fair befall the dainty sweet!
By that flower there is a bower,
Where the heavenly Muses meet.

In that bower there is a chair,
Fringèd all about with gold,
Where doth sit the fairest fair
That did ever eye behold.

It is Phyllis, fair and bright,
She that is the shepherds' joy,
She that Venus did despite,
And did blind her little boy.

This is she, the wise, the rich,
That the world desires to see:
This is _ipsa quæ_, the which
There is none but only she.

Who would not this face admire?
Who would not this saint adore?
Who would not this sight desire,
Though he thought to see no more?

O, fair eyes, yet let me see,
One good look, and I am gone:
Look on me, for I am he,
Thy poor silly Corydon.

Thou that art the shepherds' queen,
Look upon thy silly swain;
By thy comfort have been seen
Dead men brought to life again.

poem by Nicholas Breton
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If Stars Dropped Out Of Heaven

If stars dropped out of heaven,
And if flowers took their place,
The sky would still look very fair,
And fair earth's face.
Winged angels might fly down to us
To pluck the stars,
Be we could only long for flowers
Beyond the cloudy bars.

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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A Flower Today A Flower Tommorow

A flower today, A flower tomorrow

I'll give you a flower, for everyday that I know you,
A rose, A daisy, maybe a dafadil to.
For if you take the flower I know how you feel,
For you know it to, you'll keep them aseel
I'll hold your hand gently, carrasing your thumb
and if you deny it i know i'll grow numb.
Hold me gently and hold me good.
because i don't want you misunderstood.

I'll give you a flower tomorrow, to show you i still care,
and if you reject it i know its not fair.
i loved you forever and i always will
for this rose that i give will stay very still
Until you love me the rose will not die.
But when you do theres no need to ask why

poem by Yascel Rodriguez
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To The Flower Upon The Hill

O lonely flower, do not despair.
Though Sun has beat down on you,
all will be okay.
Send forth your roots, please,
and search for a drink,
because the Cloud shall see your efforts
and open the Celestial Ocean.

Worry not, little one, for soon you shall grow.
All of your woes will fade away.
O arrogant one, humble yourself!
Do not let the Inane Weed dry you in his drought.
Face toward the Shade of the Tree and seek refuge
from the sands around you.
Let not the Spider spin his webs on you.
Let the Starlight flood you forever.
Don't give in to the Aphids of treason.

Remember the Eyes that love you.
Forget not the Butterflies refreshed by you.
Let the Shadow of your Comet fade to nil.
Please do not let your ethereal petals fall.
Thrive in the Sea of Rains.
Remember the Cloud, the Tree looking after you in your youth.
Grow taller than the First Trees,
grows stronger than the Magnetars!

poem by Soren Valentine
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Wildflowers

The hills were alive with wildflowers
And I was as wild, even wilder than they
For at least I could run, they just died in the sun
And I refused to just wither in place
Just a wild mountain rose, needing freedom to grow
So I ran fearing not where Id go
When a flower grows wild, it can always survive
Wildflowers dont care where they grow
And the flowers I knew in the fields where I grew
Were content to be lost in the crowd
They were common and close, I had no room for growth
I wanted so much to branch out
I uprooted myself from home ground and left
Took my dreams and I took to the road
When a flower grows wild, it can always survive
Wildflowers dont care where they grow
I grew up fast and wild and I never felt right
In a garden so different from me
I just never belonged, I just longed to be gone
So the garden, one day, set me free
Hitched a ride with the wind and since he was my friend
I just let him decide where wed go
When a flower grows wild, it can always survive
Wildflowers dont care where they grow
Repeat chorus

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Quintessence Of The Flowers

Pensively, come to where the garden is
With your feet sprinting through the brambly sophistication.
Pry - you never did, and you never will - for
The peculiarity of the flowers rouse the tides of your scruple;
The petals are tethered to the body so slender - modest
In a starburst as the malingering shrill of the flower is the
Catalyst of the somersaulting noon-time delight,
Caught by the fancy of this inveigle, the farce has been played out,
Dear agile lover - you dare not pluck this flower for you tremble
In the nullity of its feigned void - there is an augury to be found
In a flower: prolix, sapid and perennial like how the trees
Have witnessed the scowling of the heavens as the mire
Satiates each of the heaven's parcel!
You ask me incessantly now, that you have come to the
Acquaintance of the petals - these wondrous parasols,
The cantankerous thorns cloaking the flower's flagrant body;
These are no more than wry and insidious invitations:
A challenge to the eagerness of your heart to pluck the flower
Out of its perturbed garden as the beasts of the night trample a trifle morose
Anguish all over the tapestry.
Its roots need not an explanation dear love, just open your callow eyes
And there you will see that the petals, the thorns, the curtailed stem,
And the perfunctory silence of the roots are one and the same.
This flower at the cynosure of the garden is a vivid reflection of you,
Conjured, and that is the meaning of the flower:

That forever you are girdled though your thorns
May perforate my entirety, my hands - let it bleed
And that is the meaning of the flower,
That even if the petals - your petals whittle away
I will still hold your reminiscences like that of a multihued petal
Fluttering away into the sea where I look for you.
And your slender body that I will cradle as we sieve
Through everything and anything that will impede
Our inexorable swiftness.
I am the garden, and you are the flower, ceaselessly
I will girdle you until the vale abates into nothingness.

poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr
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Wild Forest Flower

Rough around the edges but a tender center
This is my wild forest flower
Short and slender with long flowing blonde hair
This is my wild forest flower
A loving heart that goes beyond what I can see
This is my wild forest flower

I want to hold my flower in my hands
Wondering why she holds back and refuses to stand
I water it every now and then to watch it grow
But it takes too long because it’s a little slow
So I wait patiently for the flower to begin to rise
Even though I can still hear the weeping willows cries

Firm and hard headed but with a loving touch
This is my wild forest flower
Always hiding and always scared like a little child
This is my wild forest flower
The only one im willing to be with anymore
This is my wild forest flower

A darkened hush rises in the sky above my flower
The roots slowly exposing themselves out of fear
A forest fire begins in the distance soon to consume it
The fire rages ready to consume the small thing in power
This little bitty flower that I love and hold so dear
but I laugh because I know how this fire got lit

poem by Branden Aeling
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The Lover Sings Of A Garden

Oh, beautiful are the flowers of your garden,
The flowers of your garden are fair:
Blue flowers of your eyes
And dusk flower of your hair;
Dew flower of your mouth
And peony-budded breasts,
And the flower of the curve of your hand
Where my hand rests.

poem by Helen Hoyt
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Address to Leopold VII.

To me is barr'd the door of joy and ease;
There stand I as an orphan, lone, forlorn,
And nothing boots me that I frequent knock.
Strange that on every hand the shower should fall,
And not one cheering drop should reach to me!
On all around the gen'rous Austrian's gifts,
Gladdening the land, like genial rain descend:
A fair and gay adorned mead is he
Whereon are gather'd oft the sweetest flowers:
Would that his rich and ever gen'rous hand
Might stoop to pluck one little leaf for me,
So might I fitly praise a scene so fair!

poem by Walther von der Vogelweide
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There is another sky

2

There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields—
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!

poem by Emily Dickinson
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