Goodness Lives
Comfort me like this sweet summer morning
The rust laden sorrow swept under
No lack of praise on my lips
I am full and over flowing
Gentleness has calmed my storms
Wordsworth's garden grows
Fragrance of childhood
Connections with the robins song
Trees sway in waves of the wind
My soul gleans the sun
Faith bright with hope
Joy heals my tired bones
Renewal rejoices
The rain brings a green sea
I know my family smiles at me
I wear my ancestry with pride
Neighbors are quiet flowers
The iris grows
Peonies laugh
Blossoms of ancient love
Apple groves like a choir
The song of birds
Butterflies speak like poets
Surely goodness lives
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Related quotes
The wind
(THE TALE)
Cometh the Wind from the garden, fragrant and full of sweet singing--
Under my tree where I sit cometh the Wind to confession.
"Out in the garden abides the Queen of the beautiful Roses--
Her do I love and to-night wooed her with passionate singing;
Told I my love in those songs, and answer she gave in her blushes--
She shall be bride of the Wind, and she is the Queen of the Roses!"
"Wind, there is spice in thy breath; thy rapture hath fragrance Sabaean!"
"Straight from my wooing I come--my lips are bedewed with her kisses--
My lips and my song and my heart are drunk with the rapture of loving!"
(THE SONG)
The Wind he loveth the red, red Rose,
And he wooeth his love to wed:
Sweet is his song
The Summer long
As he kisseth her lips so red;
And he recketh naught of the ruin wrought
When the Summer of love is sped!
(AGAIN THE TALE)
Cometh the Wind from the garden, bitter with sorrow of winter.
"Wind, is thy love-song forgot? Wherefore thy dread lamentations?"
Sigheth and moaneth the Wind: "Out of the desolate garden
Come I from vigils with ghosts over the grave of the Summer!"
"Thy breath that was fragrant anon with rapture of music and loving,
It grieveth all things with its sting and the frost of its wailing
displeasure."
The Wind maketh ever more moan and ever it giveth this answer:
"My heart it is numb with the cold of the love that was born of the
Summer--
I come from the garden all white with the wrath and the sorrow of Winter;
I have kissed the low, desolate tomb where my bride in her loveliness
lieth
And the voice of the ghost in my heart is the voice that forever
outcrieth!"
(AGAIN THE SONG)
The Wind he waileth the red, red Rose
When the Summer of love is sped--
He waileth above
His lifeless love
With her shroud of snow o'erspread--
Crieth such things as a true heart brings
To the grave of its precious dead.
poem by Eugene Field
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Madona Mia
UNDER green apple-boughs
That never a storm will rouse,
My lady hath her house
Between two bowers;
In either of the twain
Red roses full of rain;
She hath for bondwomen
All kind of flowers.
She hath no handmaid fair
To draw her curled gold hair
Through rings of gold that bear
Her whole hair’s weight;
She hath no maids to stand
Gold-clothed on either hand;
In all the great green land
None is so great.
She hath no more to wear
But one white hood of vair
Drawn over eyes and hair,
Wrought with strange gold,
Made for some great queen’s head,
Some fair great queen since dead;
And one strait gown of red
Against the cold.
Beneath her eyelids deep
Love lying seems asleep,
Love, swift to wake, to weep,
To laugh, to gaze;
Her breasts are like white birds,
And all her gracious words
As water-grass to herds
In the June-days.
To her all dews that fall
And rains are musical;
Her flowers are fed from all,
Her joy from these;
In the deep-feathered firs
Their gift of joy is hers,
In the least breath that stirs
Across the trees.
She grows with greenest leaves,
Ripens with reddest sheaves,
Forgets, remembers, grieves,
And is not sad;
The quiet lands and skies
Leave light upon her eyes;
None knows her, weak or wise,
Or tired or glad.
None knows, none understands,
What flowers are like her hands;
Though you should search all lands
Wherein time grows,
What snows are like her feet,
Though his eyes burn with heat
Through gazing on my sweet,
Yet no man knows.
Only this thing is said;
That white and gold and red,
God’s three chief words, man’s bread
And oil and wine,
Were given her for dowers,
And kingdom of all hours,
And grace of goodly flowers
And various vine.
This is my lady’s praise:
God after many days
Wrought her in unknown ways,
In sunset lands;
This was my lady’s birth;
God gave her might and mirth
And laid his whole sweet earth
Between her hands.
Under deep apple-boughs
My lady hath her house;
She wears upon her brows
The flower thereof;
All saying but what God saith
To her is as vain breath;
She is more strong than death,
Being strong as love.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Sing To Me
Sing to me! Something of sunlight and bloom,
I am so compassed with sorrow and gloom,
I am so sick with the world’s noisse and strife, -
Sing of the beauty and brightness of life –
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing to me! Something that’s jubilant, glad!
I am so weary, my soul so sad.
All my earth riches are covered with rust,
All my bright dreams are but ashes and dust.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing og the blossoms that open in spring,
How the sweet flowers blow, and the long lichens cling,
Say, though the winter is round about me,
There are bright summers and springs yet to be.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing me a song full of hope and of truth,
Brimming with all the sweet fancies of youth!
Say, though my sorrow I may not forget,
I have not quite done with happiness yet.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Lay your soft fingers just here, on my cheek;
Turn the light lower – there- no, do not speak,
But sing! My heart thrills at your beautiful voice;
Sing till I turn from my grief and rejoice.
Sing to me, sing to me!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Childhood Memories Sung to the Tune of Shawnee West Franklin Bison Blues
Some people have a childhood garden
Filled with green and growing things
Some people have a childhood garden
Filled with purple peonies
Mine is sere
Throughout the year
Nothing grows here
Some people have a childhood rainbow
A sea of colors all aglow
Some people have a childhood rainbow
Red to violet in a row
Mine is gray
Bow of clay
Without a ray
Some people have a childhood temple
Covered with a million treasured dreams
Some people have a childhood temple
A sunny Wat of Gods and kings
Mine is plain
Squats in the rain
Functional 'n sane
Where childhood memories abound
Life flows vividly around
Where childhood memories have fled
Hearts lie dead
My Garden Fair
Flowers are blooming in
my garden fair. Their
sweet perfume fills the
air. My Garden fair is
beautiful to see., with all
its glory surrounding me.
My garden fair is romantic
and bright, and so redeeming
in sunlight where song birds
nestle in the trees, and sing
with each flowing breeze.
My garden fair is a glorious
sight, that I rush to greet
at twilight my garden fair is
most supreme with such lovely
enchanting scenes.
poem by Dr. Janice Marie Murrell
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September's Brought The Spring
The golden whistler whistles on the gray gum tree
And lyrebird in good mood for mimicry
And magpie piping in the morning gray
And currawong tell rain not far away.
I love the hills of Sherbrooke in the Spring
When wattles bloom and all the free birds sing
The voice of yellow tailed black cockatoo
And spotted dove utter his mating coo.
The rhododendrons flushed with bright pink flowers
And the trees look greener after cool spring showers
September brings with it rich greenery
And nest building birds prepare for family.
Were I a bard born with the gift of rhyme
I'd write a song for Sherbrooke in Springtime
And I'd sing my song that some might wish to hear
Of Sherbrooke in September of the year.
The yellow robin singing in the wind and rain
And the sky turn bright and the sun shine out again
And in Sherbrooke woods the wild and free birds sing
And September's come and brought with it the Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Given Hearts That We Might Love
Given hearts that we might love,
Until they're called above,
With those we leave behind...
Who keep our love in mind...
In time, when tears have passed,
We'll meet again, at last...
Our lives on Earth are short
And thus our thinking's caught,
Yet God reveals His Word
And faith inside is stirred,
Such that new hope is born,
No more to feel forlorn...
That's why faith lights our path
And teaches us to laugh
And with each prayer we pray,
Reach higher day-by-day...
Eternal life awaits
As we pass through God's Gates...
Think not it's meant for all,
For each must hear God's call
And in a moment rise,
To see through brand new eyes,
Then on God's promise stand,
As each one holds His hand...
The ones who've gone before,
Must surely know the score,
For in Heaven they abide,
With smiles so broad and wide,
Content to wait for those
Whose love still grows and grows...
Be patient, then, my friends,
For true love never ends,
It blossoms like it must
In those whose hearts still trust...
There's nothing more sublime,
Except we'll meet in time...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Poinciana
(simon/bernier)
Blow...tropic wind...
Sing a song...through the trees.
Trees...sigh to me...
Soon my love...i will see.
Poinciana,
Your branches speak to me of love.
Pale moon is casting shadows from above.
Poinciana,
Somehow I feel the jungle beat
Within me, there grows a rhythmic, savage
Beat.
Love is everywhere, its magic perfume fills the air.
To and fro, you sway, my hearts in time,
Ive learned to care.
Poinciana,
Though skies may turn from blue to gray,
My love will live for ever and a day.
Blow....tropic wind,
Sing a song through the trees.
Trees...sigh to me
Soon my love... I will see.
Poinciana...
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer Lovers
Clasp the blue sky and sea so free
These sweet angels smile for all
She is immortal myth and soft dreams
Romance is the garden before the fall
Forests blossom with deep green pride
The rain has made the rivers swell
Moonlight shines on her face and eyes
Love is water from the deepest well
Isn't passion made for the heart?
Spring becomes summers bloom
Love cannot begin without a start
Hear the robin and cardinals tune
Deep streams of mystic water flow
Sacred ground, promises are made
Dappled sunlight, lily pads grow
Timeless poems never wilt or fade
Touched by immortal roses of red
Kisses like honey from a tree of love
Silky stars serenade a heavenly bed
Song birds bring a song from above
Lovers are wild flowers on a magic night
Waves glisten with moonlight glow
Morning dances with joy and delight
Summer lovers reach each others soul
What would life be without summer lovers?
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Guests
Sunflower tall and hollyhock, that wave in the
wind together,
Corn-flower, poppy, and marigold, blossoming
fair and fine,
Delicate sweet-peas, glowing bright in the quiet
autumn weather,
While over the fence, on fire with bloom,
climbs the nasturtium vine!
Quaint little wilderness of flowers, straggling
hither and thither -
morning-glories tangled about the larkspur
gone to seed,
Scarlet runners that burst all bounds, and wan-
der, heaven knows whither,
And lilac spikes of bergamot, as thick as any
weed.
And oh, the bees and the butterflies, the hum-
ming-birds and sparrows,
That over the garden waver and chirp and
flutter the livelong day!
Humming-birds, that dart in the sun like green
and golden arrows,
Butterflies like loosened flowers blown off by
the wind in play.
Look at the red nasturtium flower, drooping,
bending, and swaying;
Out the gold-banded humble-bee breaks and
goes booming anew!
Hark, what the sweet-voiced fledgling sparrows
low to themselves are saying,
Pecking my golden oats where the corn-flowers
gleam so blue!
Welcome, a thousand times welcome, ye dear
and delicate neighbors -
Bird and bee and butterfly, and humming-bird
fairy fine!
Proud am I to offer you a field for your grace-
ful labors;
All the honey and all the seeds are yours in
this garden of mine.
I sit on the door-step and watch you. Beyond
lies the infinite ocean,
Sparkling, shimmering, whispering, rocking itself
to rest;
And the world is full of perfume and color and
beautiful motion,
And each new hour of this sweet day the
happiest seems and best.
poem by Celia Thaxter
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Sorrow In The Wind
(jean ritchie)
I hear the soft wind sighing
In every bush and tree
The sound of my heart crying
When you are far from me
When were apart, my darlin
Theres sorrow in the wind
When were apart, my darlin
Sweet sorrow in the wind
You leave me in the morning
Your footsteps die away
Tho not a leaf is stirring
I hear the wind all day
When were apart, my darlin
Theres sorrow in the wind
When were apart, my darlin
Sweet sorrow in the wind
They say when love grows older
It dies and fades away
Yet all our life together
One ever brightening day
When were apart, my darlin
Theres sorrow in the wind
When were apart, my darlin
Sweet sorrow in the wind
When were apart, my darlin
Theres sorrow in the wind
When were apart, my darlin
Sweet sorrow in the wind
Sweet sorrow in the wind
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Takes Away My Sorrow
Upon the mossy grass she lays
Dreaming like the sun
We see the butterflies on the meadow
Hear the crickets by the woods
Evening brings magenta with violet
The moon basks like a lover
Leaves sigh in the soft breeze
Now the stars shine with fate
Without your love I fade into the strange
The Milky Way smiles like a warm world
A campfire glows like paradise
The coals of love burning like my heart
Pine trees are mystical witnesses
We sit on an old log holding hands
Darling can you hear the elves laugh?
Voices like candles of angels
By the river time is a gentle rose
Life is my friend not my foe
Rain has left the summer vibrant
Green radiance amidst the blue heaven
Her eyes bring me assurance
Her touch tender as sweet hope
The moment blossoms like a flower
Her kiss like a moon on fire
She takes away my sorrow
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Barefoot Days
In the morning, very early,
That's the time I love to go
Barefoot where the fern grows curly
And grass is cool between each toe,
On a summer morning-O!
On a summer morning!
That is when the birds go by
Up the sunny slopes of air,
And each rose has a butterfly
Or a golden bee to wear;
And I am glad in every toe
Such a summer morning-O!
Such a summer morning!
poem by Rachel Field
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My Heart
The gods falls victim to
you smiles, with you i
will build a world full of
love. You name is glue
to my lips so am bless,
my life is a garden full
of flowers but you are
a lily among them all '
that is why i have my
heart set on you because
you enrich my soul. My
lips are yours, You are
my heart and the only cute
apple on my apple tree...
poem by Enyinwa Okechukwu Enyinwa
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Pleasant As May
Writer Dolly Parton
Copyright 1973
The mid summer sun shines but dim the fields try in vain to look gay
But when I was happy with him December was pleasant as May
There once was a time he and I picked flowers to braid in my hair
And the songbirds would sing sweet song of love that was tender and fair
No difference the seasons may quit our love was as warm as the sun
And it mattered not where did the snow
Or green grass kissed the fields where we'd run
Now the mid summer sun shines...
Sweet flowers sweet birds and sweet song have now lost their sweetness to me
For ever my darling is gone and for ever my heartbroken I'll be
Now the mid summer sun shines...
The mid summer sun shines but dim mmm
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oranges On Apple Trees
Oranges on apple trees
Birds that mate with bumblebees
Oranges on apple trees
Water comes and water goes
Where it ends up no one really knows
Water rises, water falls
Where it comes from no one knows for sure
It seeps from every pore
We have seen the rain before
Not like this - its flooding every shore
People come and people go
I can hear their laughter through the door
But no ones keeping score
Oranges on apple trees
Birds that mate with bumblebees
One big happy family
Endless possibilities
(yeah and more)
Oranges and apple trees
I see your face in front of me
Cant believe what no one else could see
I feel it deep inside of me
Everything we love shall be released
And everyone will see
Oranges on apple trees (for sure)
I used to be the only one
Not now since youve come
You and I have seen the signs
Thats why the wind died
The wind died
Thats why oranges on apple trees
Birds that mate with bumblebees
Endless possibilities (now)
Oranges on apple trees
All the things that we can see
Multi-gender wannabes
Oranges on apple trees
Birds that mate with bumblebees
One big happy family
Endless possibilities (yeah yeah yeah)
Oranges on apple trees (for sure)
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Indian Summer
You 'll believe me, dear boys, 't is a pleasure to rise,
With a welcome like this in your darling old eyes;
To meet the same smiles and to hear the same tone
Which have greeted me oft in the years that have flown.
Were I gray as the grayest old rat in the wall,
My locks would turn brown at the sight of you all;
If my heart were as dry as the shell on the sand,
It would fill like the goblet I hold in my hand.
There are noontides of autumn when summer returns.
Though the leaves are all garnered and sealed in their urns,
And the bird on his perch, that was silent so long,
Believes the sweet sunshine and breaks into song.
We have caged the young birds of our beautiful June;
Their plumes are still bright and their voices in tune;
One moment of sunshine from faces like these
And they sing as they sung in the green-growing trees.
The voices of morning! how sweet is their thrill
When the shadows have turned, and the evening grows still!
The text of our lives may get wiser with age,
But the print was so fair on its twentieth page!
Look off from your goblet and up from your plate,
Come, take the last journal, and glance at its date:
Then think what we fellows should say and should do,
If the 6 were a 9 and the 5 were a 2.
Ah, no! for the shapes that would meet with as here,
From the far land of shadows, are ever too dear!
Though youth flung around us its pride and its charms,
We should see but the comrades we clasped in our arms.
A health to our future--a sigh for our past,
We love, we remember, we hope to the last;
And for all the base lies that the almanacs hold,
While we've youth in our hearts we can never grow old!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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True Love
When heart beats arise sweet pain
Eyes become thirsty for a dear one
Love grows there and brings merry rain
Love becomes young at that moment.
Grows then more and places to heights
Never to fade shines ever bright.
Love is a worship rather any God
And a true love never it wastes.
This is the Sangam of two hearts
Wherein to sink in soul's escort.
By and by it grows to more
Love of hearts is a Divine Love sure.
Vivek Tiwari
poem by Vivek Tiwari
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God's Gift - Nature...........
When the beautiful morning comes
The rays of rising sun kiss her
When the garden of nature open its heart
The garden of flowers hugs her to welcome
When the trees dance to tune of wind
The birds singing to the nature's choir
When the gentleness of nature is filled pleasure
Then the earth get wet with weather
When the nature forgets its vastness
Then the God shows her how big her place on earth
Let us thank God for his creation and given us
eyes to see lovely gift - Nature
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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To Louise
OH, the poets may sing of their Lady Irenes,
And may rave in their rhymes about wonderful queens;
But I throw my poetical wings to the breeze,
And soar in a song to my Lady Louise.
A sweet little maid, who is dearer, I ween,
Than any fair duchess, or even a queen.
When speaking of her I can't plod in my prose,
For she's the wee lassie who gave me a rose.
Since poets, from seeing a lady's lip curled,
Have written fair verse that has sweetened the world;
Why, then, should not I give the space of an hour
To making a song in return for a flower?
I have found in my life — it has not been so long —
There are too few of flowers — too little of song.
So out of that blossom, this lay of mine grows,
For the dear little lady who gave me the rose.
I thank God for innocence, dearer than Art,
That lights on a by-way which leads to the heart,
And led by an impulse no less than divine,
Walks into the temple and sits at the shrine.
I would rather pluck daisies that grow in the wild,
Or take one simple rose from the hand of a child,
Than to breathe the rich fragrance of flowers that bide
In the gardens of luxury, passion, and pride.
I know not, my wee one, how came you to know
Which way to my heart was the right way to go;
Unless in your purity, soul-clean and dear,
God whispers his messages into your ear.
You have now had my song, let me end with a prayer
That your life may be always sweet, happy, and fair;
That your joys may be many, and absent your woes,
O dear little lady who gave me the rose!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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