Spring's Messengers
Where slanting banks are always with the sun
The daisy is in blossom even now;
And where warm patches by the hedges run
The cottager when coming home from plough
Brings home a cowslip root in flower to set.
Thus ere the Christmas goes the spring is met
Setting up little tents about the fields
In sheltered spots.--Primroses when they get
Behind the wood's old roots, where ivy shields
Their crimpled, curdled leaves, will shine and hide.
Cart ruts and horses' footings scarcely yield
A slur for boys, just crizzled and that's all.
Frost shoots his needles by the small dyke side,
And snow in scarce a feather's seen to
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Christmas
- P. Spector - J. Barry - E. Greenwich -
(Christmas)
The snow's coming down
(Christmas)
I'm watching it fall
(Christmas)
Lots of people around
(Christmas)
Baby please come home
(Christmas)
The church bells in town
(Christmas)
All ringing in song
(Christmas)
Full of happy sounds
(Christmas)
Baby please come home
They're singing 'Deck The Halls'
But it's not like Christmas at all
Cuz I remember when you were here
And all the fun we had last year
(Christmas)
Pretty lights on the tree
(Christmas)
I'm watching them shine
(Christmas)
You should be here with me
(Christmas)
Baby please come home
They're singing 'Deck The Halls'
But it's not like Christmas at all
Cuz I remember when you were here
And all the fun we had last year
(Christmas)
If there was a way
(Christmas)
I'd hold back this tear
(Christmas)
But it's Christmas day
(Please)
Please
(Please)
Please
(Please)
Please
(Please)
Please
Baby please come home
(Christmas)
Baby please come home
(Christmas)
Baby please come home
(Christmas)
Baby please come home
song performed by by Mariah Carey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Yellowhammer
When shall I see the white-thorn leaves agen,
And yellowhammers gathering the dry bents
By the dyke side, on stilly moor or fen,
Feathered with love and nature's good intents?
Rude is the tent this architect invents,
Rural the place, with cart ruts by dyke side.
Dead grass, horse hair, and downy-headed bents
Tied to dead thistles--she doth well provide,
Close to a hill of ants where cowslips bloom
And shed oer meadows far their sweet perfume.
In early spring, when winds blow chilly cold,
The yellowhammer, trailing grass, will come
To fix a place and choose an early home,
With yellow breast and head of solid gold.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas
It's Christmas
Baby, please come home
(Yeah!)
The snow's coming down
I'm watching it fall
Watching the people around
Baby please come home
The churchbells in town
They're rining a song
What a happy sound
Baby please come home
Theyr'e singing deck the halls
But it's not like Christmas at all
I remember when you were here
And all the fun we had last year
Pretty lights on the tree
I'm watching 'em shine
You should be here with me
Baby please come home
Baby please come home
Baby please come home
They're singing deck the halls
But it's not like Christmas at all
I remember when you were here
And all the fun we had last year
If there was a way
I'd hold back these tears
But it's Christmas day
Baby please come home
Ohh...
Baby please come home
Baby please come home
Baby please come home
Ohh...
Baby please come home
Baby please come home
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coming Home
Ive not been home
For so many years
And I did not regret being gone
Please tell me when did we talk
And when did we show
That we do care for something called love
Oh no, dont you despair now
Im as grown up as can be
Cant you forget everything
And this time listen to me
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - why dont you help me
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - why dont you love me
Its time to remember
What weve done together
I guess it is more than we know
And we should be open
And turn back the wheels
As far as we can go
I know I am your son
And everything else dont seem real
I want you back like never before
I cant take another goodbye
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - please, cant you be there
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - please, dont you leave me
Whats dones done - Im your son
Ive been hurt by your lies
I want peace after all
Thats why I want you to let me come home
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - lets fight together
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - Ive so much to tell you
Home - Im coming home
Im coming home - time heals the scars of the past
Im coming home
Im coming home - to be by your side
Im coming home - Im coming home
Im coming home - Ive so much to tell you
Im coming home - Im coming home,............
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Homeward
Behind a trench in Flanders the sun was dropping low,
With tramp, and creak and jingle I heard the gun-teams go;
And something seemed to 'mind me, a-dreaming as I lay,
Of my own old Hampshire village at the quiet end of day.
Brown thatch and gardens blooming with lily and with rose,
And the cool shining river so pleasant where he flows,
White fields of oats and barley, and elderflower like foam,
And the sky gold with sunset, and the horses going home!
(
Home, lad, home, all among the corn and clover!
Home, lad, home when the time for work is over!
Oh there's rest for horse and man when the longest day is done
And they go home together at setting of the sun!
)
Old Captain, Prince and Blossom, I see them all so plain,
With tasseled ear-caps nodding along the leafy lane,
There's a bird somewhere calling, and the swallow flying low,
And the lads sitting sideways, and singing as they go.
Well gone is many a lad now, and many a horse gone too,
Off all those lads and horses in those old fields I knew;
There's Dick that died at Cuinchy and Prince beside the guns
On the red road of glory, a mile or two from Mons!
Dead lads and shadowy horses - I see them just the same,
I see them and I know them, and name them each by name,
Going down to shining waters when all the West's a-glow,
And the lads sitting sideways and singing as they go.
(
Home, lad, home . . . with the sunset on their faces!
Home, lad, home . . . to those quiet happy places!
There's rest for horse and man when the hardest fight is done,
And they go home together at setting of the sun!
)
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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Spoils Of The Dead
Two fairies it was
On a still summer day
Came forth in the woods
With the flowers to play.
The flowers they plucked
They cast on the ground
For others, and those
For still others they found.
Flower-guided it was
That they came as they ran
On something that lay
In the shape of a man.
The snow must have made
The feathery bed
When this one fell
On the sleep of the dead.
But the snow was gone
A long time ago,
And the body he wore
Nigh gone with the snow.
The fairies drew near
And keenly espied
A ring on his hand
And a chain at his side.
They knelt in the leaves
And eerily played
With the glittering things,
And were not afraid.
And when they went home
To hide in their burrow,
They took them along
To play with to-morrow.
When you came on death,
Did you not come flower-guided
Like the elves in the wood?
I remember that I did.
But I recognised death
With sorrow and dread,
And I hated and hate
The spoils of the dead.
poem by Robert Frost
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Coming Home
It's a long and lonely highway.
When you're traveling all alone.
I was on my way to nowhere.
But now i'm coming home.
I'm coming home.
I've been running through the fire.
I've been running for so long.
If i took it any higher.
Baby i would be still be gone.
But now i'm coming home, coming home.i'm coming home.
Coming home, coming home, i'm coming home.
Well my home was really never.
On a far and distant shore.
If i stayed away forever.
I could never miss you more.
And so i'm coming home,coming home.i'm coming home.
Coming home,coming home,i'm coming home.
I think of all these years gone by.
Never even wondered why.
I never touched the ground.
All the time that's come and gone.
All the nights i've been alone.
And now i'm homeward bound.
I heard the thunder over canaan.
And i've heard the angels cry.
And their voices came revealing
"as you live,so will you die."
I'm coming home,coming home,i'm coming home.
I'm coming home,coming home,i'm coming home.
Coming home, coming home, i'm coming home
I'm coming home
I'm coming home, coming home, coming home...
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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See Me
ooooohh
Nananananana
Mmm-mmm
With the moon and the sun in his eyes
He's arriving
And I don't know what I'd do without him
I got life
Suddenly
See
See me
I've got nothing to hide
See me
I've got nothing to hide
See me
I'm leaving my heart in the palm of his hand
So gently
I know he knows that I love him
Though I've never said
Is there an easy way?
See
See me
I've got nothing to hide
See me
I've got nothing to hide
See me
Coming home
I'm coming home
It feels like I'm coming home
Coming home
I'm coming home
See (see me see me)
See me
I've got nothing to hide (nothing to hide)
See me
I've got nothing to hide (nothing to hide)
See (see me see me)
See me
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'll Be Home For Christmas
I'll be home for Christmas
I'll be home just in time
I can't wait 'till I see you
Feel your heart next to mine
We'll Be Together again like before
You and I all alone
I'll hold you close when I walk through that door
I'll be home for Christmas
La-la-la-la la-la-la-la
La-la-la la-la-la la-la-la la-la-la
La-la-la-la la-la-la-la
La-la-la la-la-la-la
We can stay by the fire
With the lights turned down low
We can watch happy children
As they play in the snow
Though I may be far away from you now
Darling I promise this
It wont be long 'till we're sharing a kiss
I'll be home for Christmas
Do-do do-do-do do-do do-do-do do-do do-do-do
Do-do do-do-do do-do do-do-do-dum
Do-do do-do-do do-do do-do-do do-do do-do-do
Do-do do-do-do do-do do-do-do-dum
I'll be home for Christmas
I'll be home Christmas time
When you wait Christmas morning
I'll be there by your side
La-la-la-la la-la-la-la
La-la-la la-la-la la-la-la la-la-la
La-la-la-la la-la-la-la
La-la-la la-la-la-la
(repeat to close)
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When the Boys Come Home
There's a happy time coming,
When the boys come home.
There's a glorious day coming,
When the boys come home.
We will end the dreadful story
Of this treason dark and gory
In a sunburst of glory,
When the boys come home.
The day will seem brighter
When the boys come home,
For our hearts will be lighter
When the boys come home.
Wives and sweethearts will press them
In their arms and caress them,
And pray God to bless them,
When the boys come home.
The thinned ranks will be proudest
When the boys come home,
And their cheer will ring the loudest
When the boys come home.
The full ranks will be shattered,
And the bright arms will be battered,
And the battle-standards tattered,
When the boys come home.
Their bayonets may be rusty,
When the boys come home,
And their uniforms dusty,
When the boys come home.
But all shall see the traces
Of battle's royal graces,
In the brown and bearded faces,
When the boys come home.
Our love shall go to meet them,
When the boys come home,
To bless them and to greet them,
When the boys come home;
And the fame of their endeavor
Time and change shall not dissever
From the nation's heart forever,
When the boys come home.
Leaves Compared with Flowers
A tree's leaves may be ever so good,
So may its bar, so may its wood;
But unless you put the right thing to its root
It never will show much flower or fruit.
But I may be one who does not care
Ever to have tree bloom or bear.
Leaves for smooth and bark for rough,
Leaves and bark may be tree enough.
Some giant trees have bloom so small
They might as well have none at all.
Late in life I have come on fern.
Now lichens are due to have their turn.
I bade men tell me which in brief,
Which is fairer, flower or leaf.
They did not have the wit to say,
Leaves by night and flowers by day.
Leaves and bar, leaves and bark,
To lean against and hear in the dark.
Petals I may have once pursued.
Leaves are all my darker mood.
poem by Robert Frost
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The Flower of Death
The life is all we have; the death is all we need
It sets in our souls as an unfertilized seed
We know it will root soon, and take over our mind
And its stalk will sprout and wind
Death will take blossom, and it shall never fade it shall stay bright
And oh it shall be a beautiful sight, as it holds its petals into the night
And the leaves shall spread as green as green can be
And if you look close you will see
It's roots shall grow deep in the pot of eternity, in the dirt of the mind
The flower shall shine, so magnificent so kind
It's pollen will fly, will sour
And wait at the front of someone's door
The sun of the next world shall shine and nurture, the rain shall fall
Thanks to that the vines shall grow, and overcome the wall
The minerals of the soul will strengthen the warmth shall grow
This process shall grow, like snow falls, fast at first then slow
For the life is all we have; the death is all we need
It sets in our souls as an unfertilized seed
We know it will root soon, and take over our minds
And its stalk will sprout and wind
For now the flower shall bloom
The darkness shall leave, take the gloom
It shall leave us and we shall follow in the light of what's to be
Only then, we shall see
The flower of forever
As it takes root, you use it as a lever
Lifting you to the flower
And now you shall not cower
For you know this will spread and the flower shall grow shall thrive
And then you will know you are truly alive
As it takes root in your soul, and it shall becomes the power
For this is the blossom, this is the flower
The life is all our have; the death is all we need
It sets in our souls as an unfertilized seed
We know it will root soon, and take over our mind
And its stalk will sprout and wind
Bethany Hill
(This poem is not supposed to make you contemplate death, and I would not like to have people think that it is. It is just meant to show you that you should not fear death yet you should not reach for it but to take it when it is meant to come. Thank you)
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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The Fields Of Flanders
Last year the fields were all glad and gay
With silver daisies and silver may;
There were kingcups gold by the river's edge
And primrose stars under every hedge.
This year the fields are trampled and brown,
The hedges are broken and beaten down,
And where the primroses used to grow
Are little black crosses set in a row.
And the flower of hopes, and the flowers of dreams,
The noble, fruitful, beautiful schemes,
The tree of life with its fruit and bud,
Are trampled down in the mud and the blood.
The changing seasons will bring again
The magic of Spring to our wood and plain;
Though the Spring be so green as never was seen
The crosses will still be black in the green.
The God of battles shall judge the foe
Who trampled our country and laid her low. . . .
God! hold our hands on the reckoning day,
Lest all we owe them we should repay
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Spring
Frost-locked all the winter,
Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits,
What shall make their sap ascend
That they may put forth shoots?
Tips of tender green,
Leaf, or blade, or sheath;
Telling of the hidden life
That breaks forth underneath,
Life nursed in its grave by Death.
Blows the thaw-wind pleasantly,
Drips the soaking rain,
By fits looks down the waking sun:
Young grass springs on the plain;
Young leaves clothe early hedgerow trees;
Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits,
Swollen with sap put forth their shoots;
Curled-headed ferns sprout in the lane;
Birds sing and pair again.
There is no time like Spring,
When life's alive in everything,
Before new nestlings sing,
Before cleft swallows speed their journey back
Along the trackless track -
God guides their wing,
He spreads their table that they nothing lack, -
Before the daisy grows a common flower
Before the sun has power
To scorch the world up in his noontide hour.
There is no time like Spring,
Like Spring that passes by;
There is no life like Spring-life born to die, -
Piercing the sod,
Clothing the uncouth clod,
Hatched in the nest,
Fledged on the windy bough,
Strong on the wing:
There is no time like Spring that passes by,
Now newly born, and now
Hastening to die.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Words Of A Dying Farmer
For W.C.F.
Beat the fields in furrows home.
Hoe a row of young shoots of corn.
To be born anew push three fingers
into the ground. Drop, every other step,
three seeds, then five from the hand.
The earth's alive still with tender things.
Please god and sun the sky will not
harry boys home from school,
will not rule them as cruel fathers do,
their boiling fever for work till weary knees bow,
fingernails tearing on rocks lifted from
red rows behind a redder plow.
Now is the time to say I hated the work of fields,
and I am old. No more to fold the earth.
No more to pull stalks from frost
but to lift this last rock and hurry home.
poem by Warren Falcon
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And So Let It Be Christmas
I want this Christmas to be meaningful
One that will last a life time
So come home and share my holiday tonight
Let it be Christmas this year, and let it be rejoiceful
Outside the weather was cold
Snow fell all through the land
Perfect for a warm fire to anew your hands
Maybe roast some chestnuts over the coal
Along the journey, one heard carolers singing words of praise
Noel, Noel bring a wonderful birth this way
Noel it is Christmas and a time to pray
The long trip came to an end with out being afraid
Welcome home and let Christmas start with your presence
Let’s garnish the tree with ornaments and lights
Wrap all the presents and place them safely for overnight
What a beautiful tree it is now with all its essence
Come let’s circle around the tree
It’s time to give thanks for this gathering
God bless everyone for everything
Let Christmas arrive with all its glee
The Christmas bells rang its greetings outside
Christmas morn has finally arrived for all
Smiling faces glowed at all the gifts, small and tall
Yes, everybody it is Christmas time
As the presents were opened one by one
Faces of joy sparkled for all to see
The joy of happiness brought tears before me
This was a special Christmas for everyone
Christmas always brings some kind of recurrence
Weather it be this Christmas or last year
Coming home for the holidays and have family near
But most of all, just being well is the greatest importance
Merry Christmas this December
And Happy New Year
Let there be peace on earth and no fear
And with many treasured thoughts to remember
poem by Monica Engeler
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If I were to Own
f I were to own this countryside
As far as a man in a day could ride,
And the Tyes were mine for giving or letting, -
Wingle Tye and Margaretting
Tye, - and Skreens, Gooshays, and Cockerells,
Shellow, Rochetts, Bandish, and Pickerells,
Martins, Lambkins, and Lillyputs,
Their copses, ponds, roads, and ruts,
Fields where plough-horses steam and plovers
Fling and whimper, hedges that lovers
Love, and orchards, shrubberies, walls
Where the sun untroubled by north wind falls,
And single trees where the thrush sings well
His proverbs untranslatable,
I would give them all to my son
If he would let me any one
For a song, a blackbird's song, at dawn.
He should have no more, till on my lawn
Never a one was left, because I
Had shot them to put them into a pie, -
His Essex blackbirds, every one,
And I was left old and alone.
Then unless I could pay, for rent, a song
As sweet as a blackbird's, and as long -
No more - he should have the house, not I
Margaretting or Wingle Tye,
Or it might be Skreens, Gooshays, or Cockerells,
Shellow, Rochetts, Bandish, or Pickerells,
Martins, Lambkins, or Lillyputs,
Should be his till the cart tracks had no ruts.
poem by Edward Thomas
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Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)
(Christmas)
Full of happy sounds
(Christmas)
Baby please come home
They're singing "Deck The Halls"
But it's not like Christmas at all
Cuz I remember when you were here
And all the fun we had last year
(Christmas)
Pretty lights on the tree
(Christmas)
I'm watching them shine
(Christmas)
You should be here with me
(Christmas)
Baby please come home
They're singing "Deck The Halls"
But it's not like Christmas at all
Cuz I remember when you were here
And all the fun we had last year
(Christmas)
If there was a way
(Christmas)
I'd hold back this tear
(Christmas)
But it's Christmas day
(Please)
Please
(Please)
Please
(Please)
Please
(Please)
Please
Baby please come home
(Christmas)
Baby please come home
(Christmas)
Baby please come home
(Christmas)
Baby please come home
song performed by by Mariah Carey from Merry Christmas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brian Wilson Christmas Interview
Well, along with our special feature of this beach boys christmas album,
Once again Im happy to see the smiling face of the leader of
This popular group here in the studio, brian wilson.
Good to see you again, brian.
Hi, jack.
This beach boys christmas album is really something.
Ah, dick reynolds did the arrangements, I guess, huh?
Yes, he did. he did a beautiful job, a wonderful job.
Is this the first time youve worked with him?
Right. Id been, uh, wanting to meet him and work with him for quite a long time.
Now whos idea was it to have you featured on this, uh, one particular tune--i,
I was particularly impressed with it--a blue christmas.
Well, i... sort of picked out that song to sing for myself.
I, I love the song and uh, Ive always wanted to sing it, so I thought Id sing it.
Well, maybe this will be the start of a whole new career, huh?
I dont know, thats... it, it could, and it couldnt. ah... I really dont know.
Well, lets leave it to the listeners to see what they think of it.
Right.
I notice this album has uh, ah, along with some of the popular things like, uh,
Ill be home for christmas, uh, auld lang syne, and uh, um, we three kings
And some of the traditional things, that you have a couple of your,
Your own, uh, beach boys type sounds in the lp, too.
Uh-huh, weve more or less made one side, uh, our own style, and...
Kind of a teen side and an adult side.
Uh-huh, right, um-hm. contrasting.
Uh-huh. now, we have, uh, one of your originals coming up here, brian.
Uh, christmas day. you wrote this for the album specifically?
Yes, I did. uh-huh.
Uh-huh. and now, do you do your, the vocal arrangements,
Or did dick reynolds handle all of that?
Dick handled the vocal arrangements on the, ah, the modern side
--the traditional side--and I did the, ah, vocal and the
Arrangements of the music on our own style--our basic style--side.
Dick did the strings, also, on the, uh, on the modern side.
Coming up now, ah, a very sentimental type christmas song,
Particularly for those who are away from home during this time of year
--Ill be home for christmas. any, ah, thing particular about this,
This tune that youd like to say, brian?
Ah, well, I guess theres something very obvious when you hear the song.
Its, ah, theres a very definite influence of the four freshmen
On the arrangement as well as the delivery, and, uh, obviously
We all look up and admire the style of the four freshmen and,
Uh, I feel this has been the greatest--one of the greater--
Vocal influences, ah, in the world today.
Well, its certainly been, uh, nice of you to take the time to come
By again here for our special beach boys christmas show.
You have a fine album here and, uh, I hope youll be home for christmas.
Well, I hope I will, too. I hope everyones home for christmas.
I do, too. brian wilson, thanks again for coming by.
Thank you very much, jack.
And here again, the beach boys christmas album.
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hock-cart, Or Harvest Home:to The Right Honourable Mildmay, Earl Of Westmorland
Come, Sons of Summer, by whose toil
We are the lords of wine and oil:
By whose tough labours, and rough hands,
We rip up first, then reap our lands.
Crown'd with the ears of corn, now come,
And, to the pipe, sing Harvest Home.
Come forth, my lord, and see the cart
Drest up with all the country art.
See, here a maukin, there a sheet,
As spotless pure, as it is sweet:
The horses, mares, and frisking fillies,
Clad, all, in linen white as lilies.
The harvest swains and wenches bound
For joy, to see the Hock-Cart crown'd.
About the cart, hear, how the rout
Of rural younglings raise the shout;
Pressing before, some coming after,
Those with a shout, and these with laughter.
Some bless the cart; some kiss the sheaves;
Some prank them up with oaken leaves:
Some cross the fill-horse; some with great
Devotion, stroke the home-borne wheat:
While other rustics, less attent
To prayers, than to merriment,
Run after with their breeches rent.
--Well, on, brave boys, to your lord's hearth,
Glitt'ring with fire; where, for your mirth,
Ye shall see first the large and chief
Foundation of your feast, fat beef;
With upper stories, mutton, veal
And bacon, which makes full the meal,
With sev'ral dishes standing by,
As here a custard, there a pie,
And here, all tempting frumenty.
And for to make the merry cheer,
If smirking wine be wanting here,
There's that which drowns all care, stout beer:
Which freely drink to your lord's health
Then to the plough, the common-wealth;
Next to your flails, your fanes, your vats;
Then to the maids with wheaten hats:
To the rough sickle, and crookt scythe,--
Drink, frolic, boys, till all be blythe.
Feed, and grow fat; and as ye eat,
Be mindful, that the lab'ring neat,
As you, may have their fill of meat.
And know, besides, ye must revoke
The patient ox unto the yoke,
And all go back unto the plough
And harrow, though they're hang'd up now.
And, you must know, your lord's word's true,
Feed him ye must, whose food fills you;
And that this pleasure is like rain,
Not sent ye for to drown your pain,
But for to make it spring again.
poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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