The Copse of Trees
We started out like Armistead
from the shelter of the trees.
The wind whipped by like a Fusillade,
the high grass at our knees..
The wind blew cold that autumn day
As we started up the rise-
The prospect of the copse of trees
Before us was the prize.
The flower of Virginia once
Paraded where we stepped
Until the double canister
Decimated those still left
Our force of two, no longer young
Stumbled up the hill
Numb with cold and short of breath
Proceeding forth on will.
No enfilading fire now
From the ghosts behind stone walls
Just wood post fences six feet high
Might our progress stall..
Brave Dick Gannett was unhorsed
Upon this very spot
Kemper, wounded mortally,
Was retrieved from shell and shot
We made it past the final fence
And up the grassy knoll
Defiant in the cannons mouth
(They’re unloaded, so we’re bold)
We passed the stone that marks the spot
Where Armistead left life
Where Rebel forces crested
Like the storm wave at its height.
The blue bellies yelled Fredericksburg
As the Crimson tide retraced
Half in Anger, Half in relief
that the challenge had been faced.
The hill before the copse of trees
Pocked with the dead and dying
While the remnants of Picketts men
Towards Longstreets line were filing
The victors and the vanquished both
long since have passed away.
And left mute stones and monuments
to mark brave deeds that day.
And we, the heirs of Union, stand.
Upon the very spot
That marks the high tide of the South
- what might have been was not.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Autumn Blitz
I stared in silent wonder,
As autumn rolled in like thunder-
And in a lightening's flash,
Started my world on fire!
The trees burned brightly in,
Sunset and smokey grey hues-
The leaves lept down from the trees,
And quickly spread the news!
The wind whistled through the woods,
And swept the ground-
And wailed!
It tickled the grass,
And seized the leaves-
And up!
And away, they sailed!
Leafy flames,
Of vibrant flare-
Lept up here!
And, over there!
The fire,
It stripped the trees-
Leaving them cold,
And bare!
Then the wind,
It hummed...
And the fire,
It died down.
All of nature,
Was now beautifully crowned.
The wind-
It let out a sigh,
It shuddered-
Then it died.
There was heared no sound,
For the fire had passed.
No hint of it,
Was left to last-
But the embers which blanketed the floor.
poem by Macy Dvirnak
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Young Henry
Air -- "Drummer Boy of Waterloo"
Young Henry was as faithful boy
As ever stood on the American soil,
And he did enlist, without a doubt,
When the rebellion was broke out.
He was his parents' only son,
And only child he was but one,
That was a girl aged seventeen,
Henry called her his May Queen.
Young Henry said, "Dear sister May,
What do you think my friends will say?
For now my name is on the roll,
And I down south will have to go."
"I hear my country's call," said he,
"For all her sons of liberty,
And I, forever, will prove true
To that dear old flag, red, white and blue."
"I love my father and mother dear,
I leave you, May, their hearts to cheer;
When I am gone, pray do not mourn
If I should never return home."
His sister then to him did say,
"My only brother, blithe and gay,
Our country calls, calls from afar;
May God protect you through the war."
Their father hearing all was said,
It made his noble heart grow sad;
"My children, I love both of you,
And yet I love my country, too."
"My son, if I was young again,
I never could at home remain,
And see my native land, now free,
Dissolved and made in slavery."
Young Henry left his father's home,
And left his friends for him to mourn,
A captain of a little band,
He marched away from Michigan.
In the battle of Fredericksburg,
Above the battle roar was heard,
"Fight on! fight on! brave boys," he cried,
"I am shot and wounded, and must die."
They placed his head upon the grass,
So he could see his brave boys pass;
"Go tell my father, Henry's slain
To keep him from the rebel's chain."
They dug his grave beneath that spot,
They wrapped him in his soldier's coat,
And while the battle drums they heard,
They laid him low at Fredericksburg.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Red Hill Mining Town
]from father to son
The blood runs thin
Our faces frozen (still) against the wind
The seam is split
The coal face cracked
The lines are long
And theres no going back
Through hands of steel
And a heart of stone
Our labor day has come and gone
And you leave us holding on
In red hill town
As the lights go down
Im hanging on
Youre all thats left to hang on to
Im holding on
Youre all thats left to hang on to
The glass is cut
The bottle runs dry
Our love runs cold
In the caverns of the night
Were wounded by fear
Injured in doubt
I can lose myself
Im holding on
Youre all thats left to hold on to
And we scorch the earth
Set fire to the sky
Stoop so low to reach so high
A link is lost
The chain undone
Now we wait all day
For the night to come
And it comes
And it comes
Like a hunter (child)
Im hanging on
Youre all thats left to hang on to
Im hanging on to
Youre all thats left to hang on to
We see love slowly stripped away
Our love, has seen a better day
Im hanging on
Youre all thats left to hold on to
Im holding on
Youre all thats left to hold on to
See the lights go down on red hill town
See lights go down on red hill town
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Gettysburg
Though the winds be strong that lash along the steeds of the charging sea,
With lunge and urge of assaulting surge yet seeking a further goal,
God in His pleasure hath set a measure, the bound of their boast to be,
Where, pile upon pile, and mile on mile, are the cliffs of calm control.
But the Lord of Hosts who guardeth the coasts yet loveth each sieging swell,
And He who is Brother to surge and smother is Brother to cliff as well:
He giveth the word if the shore be stirred, He biddeth the sea subside,
And this is our trust, that His will is just, however He turn the tide!
As night went gray at the touch of day and the slow dawn mounted higher,
On the Federal right the third day’s fight was born in a sheet of fire:
Gun upon gun to the front was run, and each in its turn spoke forth
From fevered mouth to the waiting South the word of the watching North:
And the wraith of Death with withering breath o’er the wide arena played,
As across the large swept on the charge of the old Stonewall brigade;
But the first great wave on a sudden gave, retreating across the slain—
Gave and broke, as the rifles spoke from the long blue line of Kane!
Then silence sank on the double rank deployed on the sullen hill,
And, across the plain of the early slain, the hosts of the South were still,
Waiting, each, till further speech from the guns should dart and din—
Sign to the brave that the final wave of the tide was rolling in.
Adown the line like a draught of wine the presence of Hancock came,
And eyes grew bright in the steadfast light of his own that blazed to flame;
For the Federals knew, where his banner blew—and they saw their leader ride,
That a righteous God on that sea of sod had decreed a turn of tide!
So came one, when a signal gun awoke on the Southern side,
And Hunt’s brigade with a cannonade to the challenge of Lee replied,
Like arrows sent from a bow well bent to the heart of a distant targe,
Virginia’s hope rode down the slope, with Pickett leading the charge!
Steady and slow, as soldiers go in some serried dress parade,
With flags a-dance in their cool advance came the gallant gray brigade,
And steady and slow, as if no foe on the frowning heights abode,
To the cannon’s breath, to the scythe of Death, Pickett, their leader, rode.
God! what a mile he led them! From the slope they sought to scale,
Sullen and hot, the swingeing shot was hurling its awful hail:
Where a long ravine ploughed through the green they halted, anew to form,
And then, with a cheer, to the ridge’s sheer they swept like a summer storm.
Hand to hand at the guns they manned, the Federals fought and fell,
Where Armistead his regiment led up the cannister-harrowed swell,
He touched a gun—for a breath he won the crest of the Union’s pride—
Then over the hill Jehovah’s will decreed the turn of the tide!
Taken in flank each gallant rank of Pickett’s battalions gave,
Trampled and tossed, since hope was lost, there was left but life to save;
Beaten back on the travelled track, they faltered, and broke, and fled,
And, swinging his scythe, Death claimed his tithe in the pale and patient dead!
For the arm of the Lord had raised the sword that man may not gainsay,
’Twixt the cause of the Free and the cause of Lee the issue no longer lay;
For the word of the Lord had gone abroad that the strife of the right had won,
And Freedom’s foe at the call bowed low and answered “Thy will be done!”
Pickett, ah, Pickett, the staunchest heart in the Southern host that day,
Hail to the brave in the last great wave of the long and fearful fray,
That broke in foam on the trampled loam of that tempest trampled mount—
In the glory born of a hope forlorn they passed to their last account!
Meade, ah, Meade, there are hearts that bleed for your host that fought and fell,
When the final charge broke on the marge of a hillside turned to Hell!
Yet this the speech on the crag-girt beach that the sea proclaims for aye,
And this the word that the cliffs unstirred through the ages still reply:
Though the winds be strong that lash along the steeds of the charging sea,
With lunge and urge of assaulting surge yet seeking a further goal,
God in His pleasure hath set a measure, the bound of their boast to be,
Where, pile upon pile, and mile on mile, are the cliffs of calm control.
But the Lord of Hosts who guardeth the coasts yet loveth each sieging swell,
And He who is Brother to surge and smother is Brother to cliff as well:
He giveth the word if the shore be stirred, He biddeth the sea subside,
And this is our trust, that His will is just, however He turn the tide!
poem by Guy Wetmore Carryl from The Garden of Years and Other Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
From small begginings story poem for M'lady Ernestine
.
A cairn of stones that’s added to
By travellers who pass this way.
Although today they’re very few.
Few realise the cairn exists
Now no one can remember why
But the custom still persists
Originally the cairn was built
to mark the spot where someone died.
Perhaps assuaging a sense of guilt.
The killing was an accident
a blow which was in anger struck.
There was no murderous intent
He killed his friend and he confessed
The man was truly penitent.
So obviously that he impressed.
The learned judge who heard the case.
Who ruled that he was innocent
of murder but that he still must face.
A whole life sentence of regret
and that was punishment enough.
This old legend lingers yet.
Each time he passed the spot
he placed a stone upon the cairn.
Which whilst he lived grew quite a lot.
It towers now some eight feet high.
As people added their tribute
although no one remembers why.
Although it’s off the beaten track
one day you might just pass this way
and add your pebble to the stack
It has become a monument
a cairn of stone sure to impress.
Yet it began by accident
12/10/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Clearing of the Land: An Epitaph
The trees went up the hill
And over it.
Then the dry grasses of the pasture were
Only a kind of blonde light
Settling everywhere
And framing the randomly strewn
Outcropping of gray stone
That anchored them to soil.
Who were they?
One in the picture, & one not, & both
Scotch-Irish drifters,
With nothing in common but a perfect contempt
for a past;
Ancestors of stumps & fallen trees & . . . .
One sits on a sorrel mare,
Idly tossing small stones at the rump
of a steer
That goes on grazing at tough rosettes
of pasture grass & switching its tail
In what is not yet irritation.
What I like, what I
Have always liked, is the way he tosses each small
Stone without thinking, without
A thought for anything, not aiming at all,
The easy, arcing forearm nonchalance
Like someone fly casting,
For this is what
He wanted:
To be among the stones, the grasses,
Savoring a stony self
That reminded him of no one else,
And on land where that poacher, Law,
Had not yet stolen through his fences,
The horse beneath him tensing
Its withers lightly to keep
The summer flies away,
And the woman in the flower-print dress hemmed
With stains
A half mile off
Is the authoress of no more than smoke rising,
Her sole diary & only publication,
From a distant chimney.
They have perhaps a year or two
Left of this
Before history begins to edit them into
Something without smoke or flies, something
Beyond all recognition.
poem by Larry Levis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Appreciate Stone Wall Memories
it is true the stone wall loss
of our ever beloved ones,
is a barrier too hard to pass
cross for bitter mournful seasons,
stones are hard cold wet
with our 'ice crystallized cold tears',
unyielding in left loneliness
of broken spaces in our souls;
mourning rich beauty
in passing noble lives,
retreating into private
depths of passion grief,
into the torn raw hurt
of missing our beloved,
the wind knife ice blows
savage cold in this winter season;
trees refuse to leaf,
streams creeks rivers
ice frozen may not run;
but spring thaw cycles life
next seasons beauty
must rebirth come,
as new season life
blesses our families
with babies
growing
into bubbling
laughter,
miracle first steps
stumbling toddler runs,
life growth must
delight renew regenerate
into beauty
of multiple new memories;
Stone Walls
on a breezy sunny day
are warmed by the sun,
stone walls will give out
the warmth of sunlight
they receive, warm the heart
warm receptive souls
warm into the night,
stone walls are a refuge
for life that abides
within them; stone walls
hold precious memories
as numerous as the stones
within them, stone walls
landscape
through seasons
in cycles
of wonder life,
stone walls
shelter
block hail winds
in winter seasons,
we need to shelter
in glowing memories,
delight appreciate
in stone wall memories,
stone wall backbone
honouring nobility of lives
stretching back complete
through our passage lives
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Spring Morning
Where am I going? I don't quite know.
Down to the stream where the king-cups grow-
Up on the hill where the pine-trees blow-
Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.
Where am I going? The clouds sail by,
Little ones, baby ones, over the sky.
Where am I going? The shadows pass,
Little ones, baby ones, over the grass.
If you were a cloud, and sailed up there,
You'd sail on water as blue as air,
And you'd see me here in the fields and say:
'Doesn't the sky look green today?'
Where am I going? The high rooks call:
'It's awful fun to be born at all.'
Where am I going? The ring-doves coo:
'We do have beautiful things to do.'
If you were a bird, and lived on high,
You'd lean on the wind when the wind came by,
You'd say to the wind when it took you away:
'That's where I wanted to go today!'
Where am I going? I don't quite know.
What does it matter where people go?
Down to the wood where the blue-bells grow-
Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hat & Feet
Im just a hat and feet
Thats all thats left of me
A spot on the sidewalk
A mark on the street
Im just a hat and feet
Im just a hat and feet
You dropped a bomb on me
I didnt even see
Like a falling piano
From out of a window
Now Im just a hat and feet
Im just a hat and feet
Im just a sitting duck
That ran out of luck
Im the unhappy guy
That didnt look up high
I started running when I saw it coming
It got faster and louder til I took a powder
Now
Im just a hat and feet
Thats what become of me
Flat on the sidewalk
Stuck to the street
Im just a hat and feet
Im just a hat and feet
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Hat And Feet
Hat And Feet
Fountains Of Wayne
I'm just a hat and feet
That's all that's left of me
A spot on the sidewalk
A mark on the street
I'm just a hat and feet
I'm just a hat and feet
You dropped a bomb on me
I didn't even see
Like a falling piano
From out of the window
Now I'm just a hat and feet
I'm just a hat and feet
I'm just a sitting duck
That ran out of luck
I'm the unhappy guy
That didn't look up high
I started running when I saw it coming
It got faster and louder til I took a powder
Now
I'm just a hat and feet
That's what 's become of me
Flat on the sidewalk
Stuck in the street
I'm just a hat and feet
I'm just a hat and feet
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
When The Two Sisters Go To Fetch Water
WHEN the two sisters go to fetch water, they come to this spot and they smile.
They must be aware of somebody who stands behind the trees whenever they go to fetch water.
The two sisters whisper to each other when they pass this spot.
They must have guessed the secret of that somebody who stands behind the trees whenever they go to fetch water.
Their pitchers lurch suddenly, and water spills when they reach this spot.
They must have found out that somebody's heart is beating who stands behind the trees whenever they go to fetch water.
The two sisters glance at each other when they come to this spot, and they smile.
There is a laughter in their swift-stepping feet, which makes confusion in somebody's mind who stands behind the trees whenever they go to fetch water.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Gardener XVIII: When Two Sisters
When the two sisters go to fetch
water, they come to this spot and
they smile.
They must be aware of somebody
who stands behind the trees when-
ever they go to fetch water.
The two sisters whisper to each
other when they pass this spot.
They must have guessed the secret
of that somebody who stands behind
the trees whenever they go to
fetch water.
Their pitchers lurch suddenly, and
water spills when they reach this
spot.
They must have found out that
somebody's heart is beating who
stands behind the trees whenever
they go to fetch water.
The two sisters glance at each other
when they come to this spot, and they
smile.
There is a laughter in their swift-
stepping feet, which makes confusion
in somebody's mind who stands behind
the trees whenever they go to
fetch water.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stone Cold
(r palmer)
Hey hey take it from me shes a masterpiece
She ought to have her own show
Oh stone cold
Hey hey take it from me shes a masterpiece
Stone cold in love with you
Could you be ? or van gough
Youre a work of art, my darlin
You are the one I adore
You choose the role to star in
Youve got the part - Im all yours
My hearts in perpetual motion
When you make love with me
Beats so hard we reach an explosion
Of sensuality
You are poetry - I read your lips
They say just kiss me darling
The way you move - the way you speak
I got to have you cos Im stone cold
Hey hey take it from me shes a masterpiece
Stone cold in love with you
She ought to have her own show
Oh stone cold
Hey hey take it from me shes a masterpiece
Stone cold in love with you
Could you be ? or van gough
You want it all - you got it
You take the cake coz you wrote the recipe
You hit the mark
Spot on it
We make the grade coz we got the chemistry
Surfin high on the waves of emotion
When you make love with me
8 miles high and deep as the ocean
Thats how big love should be
Youre a masterpiece - youre made for me
I just couldnt live without you
Say what you want - say what you need
Ill get it for you cos Im stone cold
Hey hey take it from me shes a masterpiece
Im stone cold in love with you
She ought to have her own show
Well stone cold
Hey hey take it from me shes a masterpiece
Im stone cold in love with you
Could you be ? or van gough
My hearts in perpetual motion
When you make love with me
Beats so hard we reach an explosion
Of sensuality
You are poetry - I read your lips
They say just kiss me darling
The way you move - the way you speak
I got to have you cos Im stone cold
Hey hey take it from me shes a masterpiece
Stone cold in love with you
She ought to have her own show
Babe Im stone cold
Hey hey take it from me shes a masterpiece
Stone cold in love with you
Could you be ? or van gough
Stone cold
Hey hey take it from me shes a masterpiece
Stone cold in love with you
She ought to have her own show
Babe Im stone cold
Hey hey take it from me shes a masterpiece
Stone cold in love with you
Could you be ? or van gough
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Long ago
I once knew all the birds that came
And nested in our orchard trees;
For every flower I had a name--
My friends were woodchucks, toads, and bees;
I knew where thrived in yonder glen
What plants would soothe a stone-bruised toe--
Oh, I was very learned then;
But that was very long ago!
I knew the spot upon the hill
Where checkerberries could be found,
I knew the rushes near the mill
Where pickerel lay that weighed a pound!
I knew the wood,--the very tree
Where lived the poaching, saucy crow,
And all the woods and crows knew me--
But that was very long ago.
And pining for the joys of youth,
I tread the old familiar spot
Only to learn this solemn truth:
I have forgotten, am forgot.
Yet here's this youngster at my knee
Knows all the things I used to know;
To think I once was wise as he--
But that was very long ago.
I know it's folly to complain
Of whatsoe'er the Fates decree;
Yet were not wishes all in vain,
I tell you what my wish should be:
I'd wish to be a boy again,
Back with the friends I used to know;
For I was, oh! so happy then--
But that was very long ago!
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Tramp On The Street
The snowflakes fell
like white feathers from heaven
leaving a white blanket on the ground.
He trudged through the lonely streets
with nowhere to go.
A tramp on the street
with only rags to cover his feet,
trying to find a place to sleep
and rest his weary bones.
He passed a frozen river,
it made his cold body shiver
for he could see a pair of hand raise up held
and hear a small voice as it yelled.
Without a moment hesitation,
though barely nothing on his feet
he started to walk
across the sharp iced water
even though the wind fiercely blew.
He had to reach the child
that had fallen through.
He moved as fast as he could
although he was almost crippled.
Reaching down he plucked the child
from the dark waters cold
as the wind blew fierce and wild.
He moved slowly to the shore
as a silent rain began to pour.
Finding shelter beneath some trees
covered the child in what
dry clothes he had.
He forgot about his feet that hurt
as he covers the child
with his ragged coat and shirt.
He made sure the child was warm
before he laid himself to rest.
The child later awoke to find
the tramp stiff and blue
within his snowy bed.
There is no moral to this story
of why one ill treated by society
would willingly forfit his life
so that an unknown child would live.
We can only ponder on the thoughts
that went through his head
as he laid himself down to sleep
on that snowy bed.
12 January 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Short, Fast, & Loud
Shes shallow like the shoreline durning low tide
But my hopes are not quite as high
Cant spot her faults but she spotted mine
She left me for herself
Considering I would too
Go figure, Im bigger than that
The battles only halfway done
I might look young
But Im no less defeated
Hows the weather up there?
Good God I wish I was tall
song performed by by Fall Out Boy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Short, Fast, And Loud
Shes shallow like the shoreline durning low tide
But my hopes are not quite as high
Cant spot her faults but she spotted mine
She left me for herself
Considering I would too
Go figure, Im bigger than that
The battles only halfway done
I might look young
But Im no less defeated
Hows the weather up there?
Good God I wish I was tall
song performed by by Fall Out Boy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Walking Through The Rain
Once in our lifetime
will go through a narrow road
where there's nobody around
We just walking all alone
Carrying attached burden
And behind, chased by a storm
Will the soul safely reach home?
Left and right, nothing around
keep walking in a small road
Wind run chasing this feet
Bringing sand to my eyes
A bit hurt, force to tears
dropped, flew, dried still fears
Keep walking the storm just near
Wind swirl and touch the trees
The weak leaves falling down
Riding this feeling we cant help
After carrying all blurry years
The future seems like a smear
But the storm keep coming near
Too close to breaks and clear
I still walking ahead with hopes
There's nothing around to hold
The grey conquer half of the blue sky
While the sun gone leaving without light
Keep walking, keep moving, it's alright
Even the clouds shades my shadow
We left the past, i wont undo
When the rain pour on me
Finally i know the storm caught my body
Still walking, keep walking even a bit slowly
Stuck in heaviness, waking, standing and walking again
The storm push me down like the weak leaves falling down
Wake up and walking once again, nothing to hold, all by my own
Thunder shouting to scare but i'm too tired to keep afraid
No choice only walking, so I'll be brave for a change
Through this heavy rain
Keep walking to keep moving
Even it was pain with burden
For days and years to come,
I making decision through this rain
For life and future days still remain
Dont want spent entire life with all constrains
A Change for a chance,
So i took this chance to change
For next change of life chance
For always i trust my believe for a chance
The reason why i keep walking through the heavy rain
Cause i know there's always something i will gain at the end
A future with a rainbow will prove there's a chance and change
Cause I know the sun will rise and shine again
So i have made a decision through the rain
Even though i know storm will appear again
I will keep walking and stand again
: : : : : : : : Theme: Challenge and Inner strength: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
This time i learn and use my brain
poem by Unwritten Soul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Adventurers
This morning I got up before the sun
Had seized the hill,
And scrambled heart-hot, noisy, past each one
In sleep laid still.
There they lay helpless under the gold stars,
Good folk and kind,
By sleep the robber spoiled of heavenly wares,
Made deaf and blind.
The leaves cracked, the grass rustled as I passed.
I might have been
Myself the thief. Each minute seemed the last
Of freedom's teen.
But lonely down the hill in Levite's guise
Or priest's, I ran.
I had not proved myself, true loverwise,
Samaritan.
The wind went by me, pulling at my hair.
I left the track.
My last night's purpose terrible and fair
Came sweeping back.
Among the bracken under a white tree
I sat me down,
And slipped my shoulders very stealthily
From out my gown.
One minute I lay naked on the grass,
Then sat upright.
The hot wind had its will with me, and kissed
My bosom white.
The stars gleamed in the grey before the rose.
Were they not eyes
That peered and leered, and seemed about to close
In shocked surprise?
With the whole sky at gaze, there had I lain.
Had dared thus much.
I ran on frightened down the hill again,
With gown to clutch.
Down by the creek the blackberries grew thick,
And as I passed
They stretched long arms to hinder me and prick,
Make me shamefast?
Nay, they laughed, pulling at my slipping gown,
Would have laid bare
To chance men on the hillside looking down
The whiteness there.
Close by the blackwoods is the bathing pool
The men have made.
I was no sport for stars, no bramble's fool
In the trees' shade.
But when I stood with limbs and body free
And gleaming fair,
The little kind ferns screened and covered me
Like Agnes' hair.
I slipped into the shallow water, felt
The fine brown sand
Of the creek bottom, shuddered, splashed and knelt
Too cold to stand.
Happy and shivering, with trees overhead,
Fern walls around,
I listened to the water talking, led
To praise by sound.
So I have felt the wind and water's kiss,
Though I'm a maid.
Better be man than be a girl, and miss
Feeling afraid.
poem by Lesbia Harford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Song of the Trees
1
WE are the Trees.
Our dark and leafy glade
Bands the bright earth with softer mysteries.
Beneath us changed and tamed the seasons run:
In burning zones, we build against the sun
Long centuries of shade.
2
We are the Trees,
Who grow for man’s desire,
Heat in our faithful hearts, and fruits that please.
Dwelling beneath our tents, he lightly gains
The few sufficiencies his life attains—
Shelter, and food, and fire.
3
We are the Trees
That by great waters stand,
By rills that murmur to our murmuring bees.
And where, in tracts all desolate and waste,
The palm-foot stays, man follows on, to taste
Springs in the desert sand.
4
We are the Trees
Who travel where he goes
Over the vast, inhuman, wandering seas.
His tutors we, in that adventure brave—
He launched with us upon the untried wave,
And now its mastery knows.
5
We are the Trees
Who bear him company
In life and death. His happy sylvan ease
He wins through us; through us, his cities spread
That like a forest guard his unfenced head
’Gainst storm and bitter sky.
6
We are the Trees.
On us the dying rest
Their strange, sad eyes, in farewell messages.
And we, his comrades still, since earth began,
Wave mournful boughs above the grave of man,
And coffin his cold breast.
poem by Mary Colborne-Veel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!