From Rana to Rani
My Rani say we two should play upon shared lily pad,
with well webbed nails, fly dinner pails, nought fails to make us glad.
While night and day I’ll Rana play hip hop with tadpoles young,
air debonnaire while you croak fair, stick insects with slick tongue,
I always may your roundelay repeat in pond competing
I’ll never stray from your side, stay, win fond completing
In stream or lake fair pair we’ll make, a baritonal greeting
loves thirst shall slake and keep awake the countryside, minds meeting.
Each day I’ll log on life’s frog blog, on log or nenuphar,
When you are far, on shooting star, I wish to pool our power,
and splash in spa, in stream and tarn, flash through love’s cinema,
spend every hour in misty shower, with you true bliss none mar.
My Rani, pray, please name the day we two on lily pad
may sultry air share free from care, our offspring never sad,
let bells be rung, your praise be sung, the marshy reeds among, -
be welcome, come, together strum as here my tale’s well hung.
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Song Of The Croaker
An old frog lived in a dismal swamp,
In a dismal kind of way;
And all that he did, whatever befell,
Was to croak the livelong day.
Croak, croak, croak,
When darkness filled the air,
And croak, croak, croak,
When the skies were bright and fair.
'Good Master Frog, a battle is fought,
And the foeman's power is broke.'
But he only turned a greener hue,
And answered with a croak.
Croak, croak, croak,
When the clouds are dark and dun,
And croak, croak, croak,
In the blaze of the noontide sun.
'Good Master Frog, the forces of right
Are driving the hosts of wrong.'
But he gave his head an ominous shake,
And croaked out, 'Nous verrons!'
Croak, croak, croak,
Till the heart is full of gloom,
And croak, croak, croak,
Till the world seems but a tomb.
To poison the cup of life,
By always dreading the worst.
Is to make of the earth a dungeon damp,
And the happiest life accursed.
Croak, croak, croak,
When the noontide sun rides high,
And croak, croak, croak,
Lest the night come by and by.
Farewell to the dismal frog;
Let him croak as loud as he may,
He cannot blot the sun from heaven,
Nor hinder the march of day,
Though he croak, croak, croak,
Till the heart is full of gloom,
And croak, croak, croak,
Till the world seems but a tomb.
poem by Horatio Alger Jr
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Down On The Bay
Ah sweet little lady used to drive me crazy
Had to stick around to play
Chorus
Down on the bay
Thats where I stay
The clouds are gray
Down on the bay
And thats my home
Cant leave my woman alone
Dont know what Im missing
But I wouldnt miss the kissing
With lily cause she looks so fine
Chorus
Walking with my lily
Down a road thats pretty chilly
But she makes it like a summer day
Chorus
Sure look so delighted
And Im getting so excited
Every time you start to play
Down on the bay
Down on the bay
Thats where I stay
Repeat
A-sittin on the bay
Thats where I stay
Thats where I stay
Down on the bay
Thats where ill stay
Down on the...
Thats where ill...
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Star And The Water Lily
THE SUN stepped down from his golden throne,
And lay in the silent sea,
And the Lily had folded her satin leaves,
For a sleepy thing was she;
What is the Lily dreaming of?
Why crisp the waters blue?
See, see, she is lifting her varnished lid!
Her white leaves are glistening through!
The Rose is cooling his burning cheek
In the lap of the breathless tide; —
The Lily hath sisters fresh and fair,
That would lie by the Rose's side;
He would love her better than all the rest,
And he would be fond and true; —
But the Lily unfolded her weary lids,
And looked at the sky so blue.
Remember, remember, thou silly one,
How fast will thy summer glide,
And wilt thou wither a virgin pale,
Or flourish a blooming bride?
'O the rose is old, and thorny, and cold,
And he lives on earth, ' said she;
'But the Star is fair and he lives in the air,
And he shall my bridegroom be.'
But what if the stormy cloud should come,
And ruffle the silver sea?
Would he turn his eye from the distant sky,
To smile on a thing like thee?
O no, fair Lily, he will not send
One ray from his far-off throne;
The winds shall blow and the waves shall flow,
And thou wilt be left alone.
There is not a leaf on the mountain-top
Nor a dropp of evening dew,
Nor a golden sand on the sparkling shore,
Nor a pearl in the waters blue,
That he has not cheered with his fickle smile,
And warmed with his faithless beam, —
And will he be true to a pallid flower,
That floats on the quiet stream?
Alas for the Lily! she would not heed,
But turned to the skies afar,
And bared her breast to the trembling ray
That shot from the rising star;
The cloud came over the darkened sky,
And over the waters wide:
She looked in vain through the beating rain,
And sank in the stormy tide.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Garden Of Girls
KATE is like a violet, Gertrude's like a rose,
Jane is like a gillyflower smart;
But Laura's like a lily, the purest bud that blows,
Whose white, white petals veil the golden heart.
Girls in the garden--one and two and three--
One for song and one for play and one--ah, one for me!
Gillyflowers and violets and roses fair and fine,
But only one a lily, and that one lily mine!
Bertha is a hollyhock, stately, tall, and fair,
Mabel has the daisy's dainty grace,
Edith has the gold of the sunflower on her hair,
But Laura wears the lily in her face.
Girls in the garden--five and six and seven--
Three to take, and three to give, but one--ah! one is given--
Hollyhocks and daisies, and sunflowers like the sun,
But only one a lily, and that one lily won.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Medley Piaf
I used to know a little square
So long ago, when I was small
All summer long it had a fair
Wonderful fair with swings and all
I used to love my little fair
And at the close of everyday
I could be found, dancing around
A merry-go-round that used to play:
ah, mon amour
A toi toujours
Dans tes grands yeux
Rien que nous deux
All summer long my little fair
Made everyday like a holiday
Night after night it used to play
People came there from so far away
And everyone sang that little tune
All around the town you heard it played
Even pepi from napoli
He sang to marie this serenade
[qui inizia hymne a lamour]
If the sun should tumble from the sky
If the sea should suddenly run dry
If you love me, really love me
Let it happen darling, I wont care
Shall I catch a shooting star
Shall I bring it where you are
If you want me to, I will. (I hope I get this right)
You can set me any task
Ill do anything you ask
If youll only love me still
When at last, our life on earth is through
I will spend eternity with you
If you love me, really love me
Let it happen darling, I wont care
song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nancy of the Vale
The western sky was purpled o'er
With every pleasing ray;
And flocks reviving felt no more
The sultry heats of day;
When from an hazel's artless bower
Soft warbled Strephon's tongue;
He blest the scene, he blest the hour,
While Nancy's praise he sung.
'Let fops with fickle falsehood range
The paths of wanton love,
While weeping maids lament their change,
And sadden every grove:
'But endless blessings crown the day
I saw fair Esham's dale!
And every blessing find its way
To Nancy of the Vale.
''Twas from Avona's banks the maid
Diffused her lovely beams,
And every shining glance display'd
The Naiad of the streams.
'Soft as the wild-duck's tender young,
That float on Avon's tide;
Bright as the water-lily, sprung,
And glittering near its side
'Fresh as the bordering flowers her bloom,
Her eye all mild to view;
The little halcyon's azure plume
Was never half so blue.
'Her shape was like the reed so sleek,
So taper, strait, and fair;
Her dimpled smile, her blushing cheek,
How charming sweet they were!
'Far in the winding vale retired,
This peerless bud I found,
And shadowing rocks and woods conspired
To fence her beauties round.
'That Nature in so lone a dell
Should form a nymph so sweet!
Or Fortune to her secret cell
Conduct my wandering feet!
'Gay lordlings sought her for their bride,
But she would ne'er incline:
'Prove to your equals true,' she cried,
'As I will prove to mine.
''Tis Strephon, on the mountain's brow,
Has won my right good will;
To him I gave my plighted vow,
With him I'll climb the hill.'
'Struck with her charms and gentle truth,
I clasp'd the constant fair;
To her alone I gave my youth,
And vow my future care.
'And when this vow shall faithless prove,
Or I those charms forego;
The stream that saw our tender love,
That stream shall cease to flow.'
poem by William Shenstone
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Boy Next Door
There's a boy who lives next door;
And this boy is just as bad
As a boy can be; and poor!
He's so poor it makes me sad
When I see him. Out at knee;
And no shoes; and, more than that,
Hardly any shirt or hat.
He's as poor as Poverty.
II.
But I like him; yes, I do.
He can play 'most any game,
And tell fairy stories, too;
Funny stories, just the same
As my father does. And he
Told me one about a frog,
Living near a lake or bog,
Frog that married a bumblebee.
III.
And another of Jumping Joan
And Hink Minx, the old witch that
Sits before the fire alone
Frying fat for her black cat.
And of Craney Crow; her dog
And her chicken. But the best,
One I like more than the rest,
'S that one of the bee and frog.
IV.
Well, the bumblebee would sing
All day long; and all the night
Sang the old frog; till the thing,
So folks said, was done in spite,
Just to keep the flowers awake:
One a rose, a brier-rose;
And the other, one of those
Lilies that grow in a lake.
V.
All day long the bee would prod
At the rose and buzz and keep
Shaking it; it couldn't nod,
Much less ever go to sleep:
Humming to it, 'Don't you hear?
I'm so happy! Can't you be
Just a little neighborly?
Ain't my froggie just a dear?'
VI.
And the frog all night would sing
To the water-lily; while
On the pad he'd sit or cling,
On his face an ear-wide smile,
Croaking, 'Listen! have you heard
All about my bouncing bee?
Don't you wish that you were she?
I'm as happy as a bird!'
VII.
Then the water-lily'd yawn,
And the rose would bat its eyes:
One would say, 'It's nearly dawn.
Better sleep. So I advise.'
And the other, 'Jumping Jim!
That old frog's a wonder! made
Just for you. Can't I persuade
You to sing your songs to him?'
VIII.
Finally it got so bad
That the rose and lily agreed
They would fix them. Both were mad
And just dying to be freed
From this tuneful tyranny.
So the rose just took a thorn,
When the bee dropped in one morn,
Stabbed her; killed her dead, you see.
IX.
That night by the yellow moon,
Sitting on the lily-pad,
Tuning up his old bassoon,
Did n't that old frog feel sad
When the lily told him! Cried
Fit to break one's heart; and, plunk!
In he plunged right there and sunk:
Drowned, committed suicide.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Splash
I called you on the phone
You knew it was me all along
You didn't even say hello
Cause you don't need words to let me know
All the things that you do to me
You fulfill my every fantasy
Splash - I'm under your power
Splash - I could go for hours
Splash - You could devour me
And I'd only want you more
Oh, when you make love to me
There's things I never thought I'd see
I cherish [...]
[...] in every sea
Oh, I love when you play with me
Ask your mom if you could stay with me
Splash - I'm under your power
Splash - I could go for hours
Splash - You could devour me
And I'd only want you more
Our love is a rhythm
Together we'll have so much fun
You go from room to room
Leaving traces of your sweet perfume
If I could I'd bottle it
Everybody should know the feelin' I get
When I'm in your cool embrace
Your lips, your arms, your legs, your face
Splash - I'm under your power
Splash - I could go for hours
Splash - You could devour me
And I'd only want you more
I want you more and more and more
Splash
Splash
Splash
Splash
Splash
Splash.
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old pond
the brook stream out to the valley that looks
old and clumsy, where the old pond
rooted the crystallized water mixed with
droplets of rain
sweet melody flows with therapeutic chime
echo the silent moment of day; calling the
little Dragonfly to catch the beautiful flower of
Lilies as the jiggle frog spare high notes for
a choral rendition of song to lie
window looks open wide and see the monsoon
rain wait to play, now the moon wind has
just come as swing the twig of the sun down to
jump into the pool and the beautiful frog enjoy
its stay
fall back the roof that leak, the sun has reach the
meadow and say goodbye, leaving the pond
a sweet memory for everyone, the old that
return the new to become the only one pond
as you water the old shadow of the new glory; the
point has yet to flame the beginning of the new
and wonderful cloth of shinning vessel of
crystallize spirit living in you
witness the frog in the old pond; same melody
sang as the water flows into the stream of unending
face of today..........be on your way
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Power Play
Dear Friends of the day,
I have not time for power play.
Life is too short and sweet,
I can't hear every heartbeat.
I have no time for strife,
I choose to enjoy my life.
I know who I am; where I'm going,
I won't carry power play along.
Power play becomes powerless
I choose to remain harmless.
A person with true power,
Overturns power play every hour.
Then power players look bad,
Even their faces look sad.
It separates the best of friends
Power play comes to an end.
I choose to be fair,
To avoid uncalled for despair.
I leave power play alone,
With my life, I move on.
poem by Barbara Dell Hobbs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Change
She leaned out into the soft June weather,
With her long loose tresses the night breeze played;
Her eyes were as blue as the bells on the heather:
Oh, what is so fair as a fair young maid!
She folded her hands, like the leaves of a lily,
'My life, ' she said, 'is a night in June,
Fair and quiet, and calm and stilly;
Bring me a change, O changeful moon!
'Who would drift on a lake forever?
Young hearts weary - it is not strange,
And sigh for the beautiful bounding river;
New moon, true moon, bring me a change! '
The rose that rivalled her maiden blushes
Dropped from her breast, at a strangers feet;
Only a glance; but the hot blood rushes
To mantle a fair face, shy and sweet.
To and fro, while the moon is waning,
They walk, and the stars shine on above;
And one is in earnest, and one is feigning -
Oh, what is so sweet as a sweet young love?
A young life crushed, and a young heart broken,
A bleak wind blows through the lovely bower,
And all that remains of the love vows spoken -
Is the trampled leaf of a faded flower.
The night is dark, for the moon is failing -
And what is so pale as a pale old moon?
Cold is the wind through the tree tops wailing -
Woe that the change should come so soon.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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You Make Me Feel So Young
You make me feel so young
You make me feel so spring has sprung
And every time I see you grin
I'm such a happy individual
The moment that you speak
I want to go and play hide-and-seek
I want to go and bounce the moon
Just like a toy balloon
You and I, are just like a couple of tots
Running across the meadow
Picking up lots of forget-me-nots
You make me feel so young
You make me feel there are songs to be sung
Bells to be rung, and a wonderful fling to be flung
And even when I'm old and gray
I'm gonna feel the way I do today
'Cause you make me feel so young
You and I, are just like a couple of tots
Running across the meadow
Picking up lots of forget-me-nots
Cause you make me young
Give me songs to be sung
Fell like bells should be rung
And a wonderful fling should be flung
And even when I'm old and grey
I'm gonna fell the way I do today
Cause you make me feel so
You make me feel so
You make me feel
I feel so young
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maryette Myers
Air -- "Lily of the West"
Come all you sympathizing friends, wherever you may be,
I pray you pay attention and listen unto me;
For it's of a fair young lady, she died, she went to rest,
She was called handsome Maryette, the lily of the west.
Her name was Maryette Myers, and her age I do not know,
Her cheeks were red as roses, her eyes were black as sloes;
She was loved by all surrounding friends, and some that loved her best,
They called her handsome Maryette, the lily of the west.
She was a fair young damsel as ever you wish to see,
And in the circle of her friends they miss her company;
They miss the merry laughter of that loved one gone to rest,
They called her handsome Maryette, the lily of the west.
She was before the looking glass, poor girl, her hair to comb,
She was taken blind, she nearly fell, she only gave a moan,
Her friends they caught her in their arms and laid her down to rest,
She was the handsome Maryette, the lily of the west.
She was away from home, and her mother dear had come
To see her darling daughter, her dear loving one;
She left a true lover, a lover with the rest,
That loved this handsome Maryette, the lily of the west.
"She was buried on her wedding day," these words a friend gave,
Her lover went as a mourner, a mourner to her grave,
His name was Forest Dilly, a young man over west,
He loved this handsome Maryette, the lily of the west.
poem by Julia A Moore
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The Lily of St Leonards
’TIS sunrise over Watson,
Where I sailed out to sea,
On that wild run to London
That wrecked and ruined me.
The beauty of the morning
On bluff and point and bay,
But the Lily of St Leonards
Was fairer than the day.
O Lily of St Leonards!
And I was mad to roam—
She died with loving words for me
Three days ere I came home.
As fair as lily whiteness,
As pure as lily gold,
And bright with childlike brightness
And wise as worlds of old.
Her heart for all was beating
And all hearts were her own—
Like sunshine through the Lily
Her purity was shown.
O Lily of St Leonards!
My night is on the track,
’Tis well you never lived to see
The wreck that I came back.
A leaden sky shuts over
A sobbing leaden sea,
For the Lily of St Leonards
Is never more for me.
I seek the wharf of Outward
Where the deck no longer thrills
Where she stood with great tears starting
Like the lights on dark wet hills.
The world was all before me
The laurels on my brow—
’Twas the world-star of the rovers,
’Tis the Star of Exile now.
poem by Henry Lawson
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All In Love Is Fair
All is fair in love
Loves a crazy game
Two people vow to stay
In love as one they say
But all is changed with time
The future none can see
The road you leave behind
Ahead lies mystery
But all is fair in love
I had to go away
A writer takes his pen
To write the words again
That all in love is fair
All of fates a chance
Its either good or bad
I tossed my coin to say
In love with me youd stay
But all in war is so cold
You either win or lose
When all is put away
The losing side Ill play
But all is fair in love
I should have never left your side
A writer takes his pen
To write the words again
That all in love is fair
A writer takes his pen
To write the words again
That all in love is fair
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Mother And I
You dropped me off for the first day of school,
You cried a little and I looked like a fool,
You watched me play, play all day,
As you sat there, you would say,
Don't go too far, stay where I can see you,
I never listened, I’d stray away,
As I grew older I still would play,
But play with girls I’d say, no way
School became harder, you'd stay up and say,
You should have done your homework before you went to play,
I laughed, who would want to do homework instead of play?
I never listened, I’d stray away,
As times changed you grew sick,
I tried to make you feel better any way I could,
But the sickness there, could not be overlooked,
You said you'd be fine, it'll all be ok,
I couldn't look I strayed away,
You're gone now, and yes I’m sad,
But it was for the better and for that I’m glad,
It hurts to never see you, but are you gone?
I’m sitting here smiling, thinking of times past,
I wish we had longer to talk and sit around,
But I feel you're still here and I hear you shout,
Don't go too far, stay where I can see you
I finally listen, and will never stray away
I love you mommy and miss you dearly,
I can see you very clearly,
You're sitting up high and watching me play,
In this great big world, I promise I will not stray
Mommy And Me
You dropped me off for the first day of school,
You cried a little and I looked like a fool,
You watched me play, play all day,
As you sat there, you would say,
Don't go too far, stay where I can see you,
I never listened, I’d stray away,
As I grew older I still would play,
But play with girls! I’d say, no way!
School became harder, you'd stay up and say,
You should have done your homework before you went to play,
I laughed, who would want to do homework instead of play?
I never listened, I’d stray away,
As times changed you grew sick,
I tried to make you feel better any way I could,
But the sickness there, could not be overlooked,
You said you'd be fine, it'll all be ok,
I couldn't look I strayed away,
You're gone now, and yes I’m sad,
But it was for the better and for that I’m glad,
It hurts to never see you, but are you gone?
I’m sitting here smiling, thinking of times past,
I wish we had longer to talk and sit around,
But I feel you're still here and I hear you shout,
Don't go too far, stay where I can see you
I finally listen, and will never stray away!
I love you mommy and miss you dearly,
I can see you very clearly,
You're sitting up high and watching me play,
In this great big world, I promise I will not stray
poem by Alex Ramos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Serenade
THE western wind is blowing fair
Across the dark Ægean sea,
And at the secret marble stair
My Tyrian galley waits for thee.
Come down! the purple sail is spread,
The watchman sleeps within the town,
O leave thy lily-flowered bed,
O Lady mine come down, come down!
She will not come, I know her well,
Of lover's vows she hath no care,
And little good a man can tell
Of one so cruel and so fair.
True love is but a woman's toy,
They never know the lover's pain,
And I who loved as loves a boy
Must love in vain, must love in vain.
O noble pilot tell me true
Is that the sheen of golden hair?
Or is it but the tangled dew
That binds the passion-flowers there?
Good sailor come and tell me now
Is that my Lady's lily hand?
Or is it but the gleaming prow,
Or is it but the silver sand?
No! no! 'tis not the tangled dew,
'Tis not the silver-fretted sand,
It is my own dear Lady true
With golden hair and lily hand!
O noble pilot steer for Troy,
Good sailor ply the labouring oar,
This is the Queen of life and joy
Whom we must bear from Grecian shore!
The waning sky grows faint and blue,
It wants an hour still of day,
Aboard! aboard! my gallant crew,
O Lady mine away! away!
O noble pilot steer for Troy,
Good sailor ply the labouring oar,
O loved as only loves a boy!
O loved for ever evermore!
poem by Oscar Wilde
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The Graves Of A Household
They grew in beauty, side by side,
They fill'd one home with glee;
Their graves are sever'd, far and wide,
By mount, and stream, and sea.
The same fond mother bent at night
O'er each fair sleeping brow;
She had each folded flower in sight,
Where are those dreamers now?
One, midst the forests of the west,
By a dark stream is laid,
The Indian knows his place of rest,
Far in the cedar shade.
The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one,
He lies where pearls lie deep;
He was the lov'd of all, yet none
O'er his low bed may weep.
One sleeps where southern vines are drest
Above the noble slain:
He wrapt his colours round his breast,
On a blood-red field of Spain.
And one o'er her the myrtle showers
Its leaves, by soft winds fann'd;
She faded midst Italian flowers,
The last of that bright band.
And parted thus they rest, who play'd
Beneath the same green tree;
Whose voices mingled as they pray'd
Around one parent knee!
They that with smiles lit up the hall,
And cheer'd with song the hearth,
Alas! for love, if thou wert all,
And nought beyond, oh earth!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Shamrock Song
O, the red rose may be fair,
And the lily statelier;
But my shamrock, one in three,
Takes the very heart of me!
Many a lover hath the rose
When june's musk-wind breathes and blows:
And in many a bower is heard
Her sweet praise from bee and bird.
Through the gold hours dreameth she,
In her warm heart passionately,
Her fair face hung languid-wise:
O, her breath of honey and spice!
Like a fair saint virginal
Stands your lily, silver and tall;
Over all the flowers that be
Is my shamrock dear to me.
Shines the lily like the sun,
Crystal-pure, a cold, sweet nun;
With her austere lip she sings
To her heart of heavenly things.
Gazeth through a night of June
To her sister-saint, the moon;
With the stars communeth long
Of the angels and their song.
But when summer died last year
Rose and lily died with her;
Shamrock stayeth every day,
Be the winds or gold or grey.
Irish hills, as grey as the dove,
Know the little plant I love;
Warm and fair it mantles them
Stretching down from throat to hem.
And it laughs o'er many a vale,
Sheltered safe from storm and gale;
Sky and sun and stars thereof
Love the gentle plant I love.
Soft it clothes the ruined floor
Of many an abbey, grey and hoar,
And the still home of the dead
With its green is carpeted.
Roses for an hour of love,
With the joy and pain thereof:
Stand my lilies white to see
All for prayer and purity.
These are white as the harvest moon,
Roses flush like the heart of June;
But my shamrock, brave and gay,
Glads the tired eyes every day.
O, the red rose shineth rare,
And the lily saintly fair;
But my shamrock, one in three,
Takes the inmost heart of me!
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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