Related quotes: _Now_ is past--the happy _now

Now Is Past

_Now_ is past--the happy _now_
When we together roved
Beneath the wildwood's oak-tree bough
And Nature said we loved.
Winter's blast
The _now_ since then has crept between,
And left us both apart.
Winters that withered all the green
Have froze the beating heart.
Now is past.

_Now_ is past since last we met
Beneath the hazel bough;
Before the evening sun was set
Her shadow stretched below.
Autumn's blast
Has stained and blighted every bough;
Wild strawberries like her lips
Have left the mosses green below,
Her bloom's upon the hips.
Now is past.

_Now_ is past, is changed agen,
The woods and fields are painted new.
Wild strawberries which both gathered then,
None know now where they grew.
The skys oercast.
Wood strawberries faded from wood sides,
Green leaves have all turned yellow;
No Adelaide walks the wood rides,
True love has no bed-fellow.
Now is past.

poem by John Clare
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Related quotes

Through The Wood

THROUGH the wood, the green wood, the wet wood, the light wood,
Love and I went maying a thousand lives ago;
Shafts of golden sunlight had made a golden bright wood
In my heart reflected, because I loved you so.

Through the wood, the chill wood, the brown wood, the bare wood,
I alone went lonely no later than last year,
What had thinned the branches, and wrecked my dear and fair wood,
Killed the pale wild roses and left the rose-thorns sere?

Through the wood, the dead wood, the sad wood, the lone wood,
Winds of winter shiver through lichens old and grey,
You ride past forgetting the wood that was our own wood
All our own--and withered as ever a flower of May.

poem by Edith Nesbit
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In The Shade Of The Green Wood

In the shade of the green wood
The holly does grow,
While in soft rays of sunlight
The wild roses glow,
And I smell their sweet perfume
That gently floats by,
Past trees strong and mighty
That reach to the sky,
The pathway of gold autumn
Leaves still remain,
As I walk through the green wood again.

In the shade of the green wood
This bright sunny morn,
That's so cool in the shadows
A new day is born,
All the birds in the treetops
Are singing for me,
Sweet songs of the summer
Which fill me with glee,
And know from its beauty
I never shall part,
For the green wood does live in my heart.

In the shade of the green wood
A soft gentle breeze,
Now caresses the branches
And whispers through trees,
A sound reassuring
Shall carry me to,
All the scenes that exist
In each marvellous view,
It's here that my spirit
Shall always now stay,
And the green wood is guiding my way.

poem by Andrew Blakemore
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Gone

Everything of the past is a memory gone
Remembering my past will only be a sign of weakness
Now life is so cruel, that the past has left no meaning
I am very alone and that is how I have to live my future life.
Anything which reminds me of my past, is to be stayed away from
That is the best and the only way to survive.
If I said I still do love you
Then it would be a big lie now
Since, now the love which I had for you has actually turned into hate
Earlier I loved you a lot and very truly
Now I do not love you
As a matter of fact, the hate is so much that the pain of the past is like a volcano
Which will just blast, if I ever again came close to you
Stay away my past, you are my memory, which is gone.

poem by Rohit Sapra
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The Call Of April

April calling, April calling,
April calling me!
I hear the voice of April there
In each old apple tree:
Bee-boom and wild perfume,
And wood-brook melody,
O hark, my heart, and hear, my heart,
The April Ecstasy!

Hark to the hills, the oldtime hills,
That talk with sea and sky!
Or speak in murmurs with God's winds
Who on their bosoms lie:
Bird-call and waterfall
And white clouds blowing by,
O hark, my heart, O hear, my heart,
The April's cosmic cry!

There runs a whisper through the woods,
The word of bough to bough,
A sound of dead things donning green,
Of Beauty waking now:
Fern-bower and wilding flower,
Each like a prayer or vow,
O see, my heart, O look, my heart,
Where Earth crowns white her brow!

And far away, and far away,
Yet nearer than she seems,
Look where she takes the oldtime trail
And walks again with dreams:
Bird note and blue remote
And laughter of wild streams,
O hark, my heart, O hear, my heart,
And follow where she gleams!

Earth has put off her winter garb
Of gray and drab and dun,
And robes herself in raiment green
Of love and laughter spun:
Wood-bloom and wood-perfume
And colors of the sun,
O hark, my heart, O hear, my heart,
Where her wild footsteps run!

O April, mother of my soul,
Take to your heart your child:
And let him lie a little while
Upon its rapture wild:
Lean close and near, and let him hear
The words that once beguiled,
And on his eyes the kiss again
Of longing reconciled.

O kiss, that fills the fields with flowers
And thrills with green each grove,
Dream down into this heart again
And grow to songs thereof:
Wild songs in singing throngs,
That swift shall mount above,
And, like to birds, with lyric words,
Take Earth and Heaven with love.

poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Through the Green Valley

Through the green valley and past the crooked tree
there lies a place of love and tranquility
where food and water are in abundancy
and children play happy free from tyranny.

Through the green valley and past the golden tree
there is a place of art and wonder and glee
where people sing and dance in jeu d' esprit
and families are happy not refugees.

Through the green valley and past the diamond tree
there a place of beauty a land of the free
where people live in a state of ecstasy
and pain is vanquished there is no misery.

Through the green valley and past the godly tree
There the kingdom of heaven 'grandiosity'

poem by Wade Harlaine
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Awesomeness of Autumn

Sweet Autumn heralds summer season's past,
She can't conceal the changing of her leaves
Autumnal days will hasten winter's blast
Her sunny days will ripen harvet sheaves.

Artistic Autumn paints a myriad hues,
Red, orange, yellow, pink and brown and green
She - from her pallette - has the chance to choose
Collages that no artist ever dreamed.

Majestic Autimn heralds winter's charm,
Leaves fall, trees' silhouttes revealed
Wood piles replenished in the rustic farm
Exotic fungi in the woods concealed.

Is Autumn still - best season of the year?
YES, Autumn well deserves the bonfires' cheer!

(John Knight - September 2009)

poem by John Knight
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I Don't Know Where The Past Is Gone

I don’t know where the past is gone
I only know most of my own life is over-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know so many people I loved
Are no longer here and will never be here again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know that that chance I had that hope for so many years
Can never be mine in the same way again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
So many moments of beauty and love and opportunity missed and longing unrealized-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what of it I should miss
And why I should long for it so.
I don’t know where the past has gone
And where my life was lost and why I did not do better in it-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what will be when for me
Everything is only the Past gone

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Pirouetting Autumn

The tree blushed - a rude blast of air
Betrayed a shapely bough.
My saddened heart aware
That Nature's clock was chiming,
I froze upon the twelfth
Clanging tone, caught alone,
Staring at a creaking door -
Left ajar for dancing, coloured Autumn,
Pirouetting in her leaves,
While agitated summer creatures
Backed away resignedly,
Sighing in protracted breves.
I turned; gave company;
We stood together, watching
Summer slowly blow away.

A utumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A Dark Past

My past is dark
It's full of pain and tears
My past is my story
My past made me stronger
People still don't know why my past is dark
But I will tell you
No more hiding for me

My past is red stained razors
I admit I did cut
But, I will no more
My closest friend was the only one that knew
Me and her alike in so many ways
We helped each other through thick and thin

My future is bright and happy
I am loved and always will be loved
In my future I will not shed a tear
For I will be surrounded by loved ones
My past is erased I have no regrets
My life is better oh..so much better

poem by Jasmine Kayleen
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I need a past

Dalliance frozen like a tight snare
Recorded off wood floors
Appreciate a melody felt
Delivered and waiting for you
Does she love me concerns
Nerves as weak as the moon
My stereo is so nice
Writing in my dining room
Strong coffee and cream and sugar
I fall in love so easy
it's hot with a breeze
Modern poetry is so free
Some control freaks don't like it

Do you want a slice of my life
a little slice of time
Real and true and splintered
The music is sweet
I still somehow think I touched you
Going for a long walk in an hour
so green out
so lush and plush

Some times when I write
it feels like heaven
My dining room is nice lots of wood
cross breeze and a fan
I need the past
I certainly want a future
but a past is important
My past seems to protect me
Do you know what I mean?
People with a bad past seem off

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Digsy's Dinner

What a life it would be
If you would come to mine for tea
I'll pick you up at half past three
We'll have lasagne
I'll treat you like a Queen
I'll give you strawberries and cream
Then your friends will all go green
For my lasagne

These could be the best days of our lives
But I don't think we've been living very wise
Oh no! no!

What a life it would be
If you would come to mine for tea
I'll pick you up at half past three
We'll have lasagne

These could be the best days of our lives
But I don't think we've been living very wise
I said oh no! no!

What a life it would be
If you would come to mine for tea
I'll pick you up at half past three
And we'll have lasagne
I'll treat you like a Queen
I'll give you strawberries and cream
Then your friends will all go green
Then your friends will all go green
Then your friends will all go green
For my lasagne

song performed by by Oasis from Definitely Maybe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song of Enchantment

A song of Enchantment I sang me there,
In a green-green wood, by waters fair,
Just as the words came up to me
I sang it under the wild wood tree.

Widdershins turned I, singing it low,
Watching the wild birds come and go;
No cloud in the deep dark blue to be seen
Under the thick-thatched branches green.

Twilight came: silence came:
The planet of Evening's silver flame;
By darkening paths I wandered through
Thickets trembling with drops of dew.

But the music is lost and the words are gone
Of the song I sang as I sat alone,
Ages and ages have fallen on me -
On the wood and the pool and the elder tree.

poem by Walter de la Mare
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Winter Is Gone

Winter is gone
And the leaves are green
Winter is gone
And the leaves turn green
Your innocent face
So you never had seen
Come on, my love
And pay the world
Come on, my love
And pay the world
You cheated me
But i wish you well
Rope is bought
And the bough is swung
Rope is bought
And the bough is swung
An innocent man
This day will be hung
Come on, my love
And see me die
Come on, my love
And see me die
See me dancing
Dance beneath the sky
'neath those gallows high
Come on and see me die
Winter is gone
And the leaves are green
Winter is gone
And the leaves turn green
Your innocent face
So i wish i'd never had seen

song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Outlaw

O, Brignall banks are wild and fair,
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather garlands there,
Would grace a summer queen:
And as I rode by Dalton Hall,
Beneath the turrets high,
A Maiden on the castle wall
Was singing merrily:—

'O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green!
I'd rather rove with Edmund there
Than reign our English Queen.'

'If, Maiden, thou wouldst wend with me
To leave both tower and town,
Thou first must guess what life lead we,
That dwell by dale and down:
And if thou canst that riddle read,
As read full well you may,
Then to the green-wood shalt thou speed
As blithe as Queen of May.'

Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are green!
I'd rather rove with Edmund there
Than reign our English Queen.

'I read you by your bugle horn
And by your palfrey good,
I read you for a Ranger sworn
To keep the King's green-wood.'
'A Ranger, Lady, winds his horn,
And 'tis at peep of light;
His blast is heard at merry morn,
And mine at dead of night.'

Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are gay!
I would I were with Edmund there,
To reign his Queen of May!

'With burnish'd brand and musketoon
So gallantly you come,
I read you for a bold Dragoon,
That lists the tuck of drum.'
'I list no more the tuck of drum,
No more the trumpet hear;
But when the beetle sounds his hum,
My comrades take the spear.

'And O! though Brignall banks be fair,
And Greta woods be gay,
Yet mickle must the maiden dare,
Would reign my Queen of May!

'Maiden! a nameless life I lead,
A nameless death I'll die;
The fiend whose lantern lights the mead
Were better mate than I!
And when I'm with my comrades met
Beneath the green-wood bough,
What once we were we all forget,
Nor think what we are now.'

Chorus

Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather flowers there
Would grace a summer queen.

poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brignall Banks

'O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green!
I'd rather rove with Edmund there
Than reign our English Queen.'

'If, Maiden, thou wouldst wend with me
To leave both tower and town,
Thou first must guess what life lead we,
That dwell by dale and down:
And if thou canst that riddle read,
As read full well you may,
Then to the green-wood shalt thou speed
As blithe as Queen of May.'

Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are green!
I'd rather rove with Edmund there
Than reign our English Queen.

'I read you by your bugle horn
And by your palfrey good,
I read you for a Ranger sworn
To keep the King's green-wood.'
'A Ranger, Lady, winds his horn,
And 'tis at peep of light;
His blast is heard at merry morn,
And mine at dead of night.'

Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are gay!
I would I were with Edmund there,
To reign his Queen of May!

'With burnish'd brand and musketoon
So gallantly you come,
I read you for a bold Dragoon,
That lists the tuck of drum.'
'I list no more the tuck of drum,
No more the trumpet hear;
But when the beetle sounds his hum,
My comrades take the spear.

'And O! though Brignall banks be fair,
And Greta woods be gay,
Yet mickle must the maiden dare,
Would reign my Queen of May!

'Maiden! a nameless life I lead,
A nameless death I'll die;
The fiend whose lantern lights the mead
Were better mate than I!
And when I'm with my comrades met
Beneath the green-wood bough,
What once we were we all forget,
Nor think what we are now.'

Chorus.
Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather flowers there
Would grace a summer queen.

poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Digsys Diner

What a life it would be
If you would come to mine for tea
Ill pick you up at half past three
And well have lasagne
Ill treat you like a queen
Ill give you strawberries and cream
And then your friends will all go green
For my lasagne
These could be the best days of our lives
But I dont think weve been living very wise
Oh no! no!
What a life it would be
If you would come to mine for tea
Ill pick you up at half past three
And well have lasagne
These could be the best days of our lives
But I dont think weve been living very wise
Oh no! no!
What a life it would be
If you would come to mine for tea
Ill pick you up at half past three
And well have lasagne
Ill treat you like a queen
Ill give you strawberries and cream
And then your friends will all go green
For my lasagne

song performed by by Oasis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Digsys Dinner

song performed by by Oasis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Island Songs

AFTER the wind in the wood,
Peace, and the night.
After the bond and the brood,
Flight.
After the height and the hush
Where the wild hawk swings,
Heart of the earth-loving thrush
Shaken with wings.

After the bloom and the leaf
Rain on the nest.
After the splendour and grief,
Rest.
After the hills and the far
Glories and gleams,
Cloud, and the dawn of a star,
And dreams.

------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
O, THE gray rocks of the islands and the hemlock green above them,
The foam beneath the wild rose bloom, the star above the shoal.
When I am old and weary I'll wake my heart to love them,
For the blue ways of the islands are wound about my soul.
[Page 66]

Here in the early even when the young gray dew is falling,
And the king-heron seeks his mate beyond the loneliest wild,
Still your heart in the twilight, and you'll hear the river calling
Through all her outmost islands to seek her lastborn child.

------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
I SAT among the green leaves, and heard the nuts falling,
The broad red butterflies were gold against the sun,
But in between the silence and the sweet birds calling
The nuts fell one by one.

Why should they fall and the year but half over ?
Why should sorrow seek me and I so young and kind ?
The leaf is on the bough and the dew is on the clover,
But the green nuts are falling in the wind.

O, I gave my lips away and all my soul behind them.
Why should trouble follow and the quick tears start ?
The little birds may love and fly with only God to mind them,
But the green nuts are falling on my heart.

poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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Sonnet In Bee Flat

There must be a place (but I've yet to find one)
beneath the Sol-drawn dawn of autumn skies
where cut-throat trout still find the heart to run
and the fullness of Summer's life never dies.

There, as if Earth had changed rotation,
Instead of honey, nature gathers dew
and composes a world without notation.
Unlike the life of old, this work is new.

Despite the nearing gray cold wintry blast,
the twisted fir tree keeps her dreams of green,
of a chamomile welwitschian past,
and buzzing yellow flights of friends less seen.

But bees still dance their flower pollen-aise,
a song of haze gold mid-October days.

(mindbringer,19 October 2009)

poem by Thomas Holderfield
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New For Old

Bud blisters into life
Stretching for the light
Unfolding radiant green
Upturned palm to the sun
Life seeping in, breathing out
Green, Green so Green
Resurrected hope, so Green
Summer breeze stroking
Branches ebb and flow
Leaves so Green strong now
Fear not wind of change
Mellow summer turns
Green, green, green-yellow
Yellow area of dieing heart
Green lingers no more
Limp transparent yellow
Barely a breeze takes one
Fierce Hyde-like wind now
Cracking and ripping
Wind torn leaves fall
Life chords snapped
Death too early, still Green
Nourishment broken not ended
Seasons build up to tear down
To build up, to tear down
Leaves fall, Green leaves fall
And then some more
Until leaves are falling, falling
Trees and branches revealed
In the x-ray of autumn blast
Winter is coming
Winter is coming
Yellow pale yellow carpet
Beneath the naked tree
Yellow, mulchy brown
Once crisp leaves scatter
Green, yellow, transparent veins
Tired, half dead, leaves lose their grip
Join the autumn rain soaked mound
Providing new life to the roots
Old for new, New for Old
Seeds buried in death
Bring new life in Spring
In the end is the beginning.

poem by Adrian Wait
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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