En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Telling the Bees: (For Edward Tennant)

Tell it to the bees, lest they
Umbrage take and fly away,
That the dearest boy is dead,
Who went singing, blithe and dear,
By the golden hives last year.
Curly-head, ah, curly-head!

Tell them that the summer's over,
Over mignonette and clover;
Oh, speak low and very low!
Say that he was blithe and bonny,
Good as gold and sweet as honey,
All too late the roses blow!

Say he will not come again,
Not in any sun or rain,
Heart's delight, ah, heart's delight!
Tell them that the boy they knew
Sleeps out under rain and dew
In the night, ah, in the night!

poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Loss

IN the world was one green nook I knew,
Full of roses, roses red and white,
Reddest roses summer ever grew,
Whitest roses ever pearled with dew;
And their sweetness was beyond delight,
Was all love's delight.

Wheresoever in the world I went,
Roses were; for in my heart I took
Blow and blossom and bewildering scent;
Roses never with the summer spent,
Roses always ripening in that nook,
Love's far summer nook.

In the world a soddened plot I know
Blackening in this chill and misty air,
Set with shivering bushes in a row,
One by one the last leaves letting go:
Wheresoe'er I turn I shall be there,
Always sighing there.

Ah, my folly! Ah, my loss, my pain!
Dead, my roses that can blow no more!
Wherefore looked I on our nook again?
Wherefore went I after autumn's rain,
Where the summer roses bloomed before,
Bloomed so sweet before?

poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Premonition

DEAR heart, good-night!
Nay, list awhile that sweet voice singing
When the world is all so bright,
And the sound of song sets the heart a-ringing,
Oh, love, it is not right—
Not then to say, 'Good-night.'
Dear heart, good-night!
The late winds in the lake weeds shiver,
And the spray flies cold and white.
And the voice that sings gives a telltale quiver —
'Ah, yes, the world is bright,
But, dearest heart, good-night!'
Dear heart, good-night!
And do not longer seek to hold me!
For my soul is in affright
As the fearful glooms in their pall enfold me.
See him who sang how white
And still; so, dear, good-night.
Dear heart, good-night!
Thy hand I'll press no more forever,
And mine eyes shall lose the light;
For the great white wraith by the winding river
Shall check my steps with might.
So, dear, good-night, good-night!

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Choice

When skies are blue and days are bright
A kitchen-garden's my delight,
Set round with rows of decent box
And blowsy girls of hollyhocks.

Before the lark his Lauds hath done
And ere the corncrake's southward gone;
Before the thrush good-night hath said
And the young Summer's put to bed.

The currant-bushes' spicy smell,
Homely and honest, likes me well,
The while on strawberries I feast,
And raspberries the sun hath kissed.

Beans all a-blowing by a row.
Of hives that great with honey go,
With mignonette and heaths to yield
The plundering bee his honey-field.

Sweet herbs in plenty, blue borage
And the delicious mint and sage,
Rosemary, marjoram, and rue,
And thyme to scent the winter through.

Here are small apples growing round,
And apricots all golden-gowned,
And plums that presently will flush
And show their bush a Burning Bush.

Cherries in nets against the wall,
Where Master Thrush his madrigal
Sings, and makes oath a churl is he
Who grudges cherries for a fee.

Lavender, sweet-briar, orris. Here
Shall Beauty make her pomander,
Her sweet-balls for to lay in clothes
That wrap her as the leaves the rose.

Take roses red and lilies white,
A kitchen garden's my delight;
Its gillyflowers and phlox and cloves,
And its tall cote of irised doves.

poem by Katharine Tynan
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Birthday Verses

Good morrow to the golden morning,
Good morrow to the world's delight—
I've come to bless thy life's beginning,
Since it makes my own so bright!
I have brought no roses, sweetest,
I could find no flowers, dear,—
It was when all sweets were over
Thou wert born to bless the year.
But I've brought thee jewels, dearest,
In thy bonny locks to shine,—
And if love shows in their glances,
They have learn'd that look of mine!

poem by Thomas Hood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Remembrance

I.
Swifter far than summer's flight--
Swifter far than youth’s delight--
Swifter far than happy night,
Art thou come and gone--
As the earth when leaves are dead,
As the night when sleep is sped,
As the heart when joy is fled,
I am left lone, alone.

II.
The swallow summer comes again--
The owlet night resumes her reign--
But the wild-swan youth is fain
To fly with thee, false as thou.--
My heart each day desires the morrow;
Sleep itself is turned to sorrow;
Vainly would my winter borrow
Sunny leaves from any bough.

III.
Lilies for a bridal bed--
Roses for a matron’s head--
Violets for a maiden dead--
Pansies let MY flowers be:
On the living grave I bear
Scatter them without a tear--
Let no friend, however dear,
Waste one hope, one fear for me.

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Still I Am Sad

See the stars come joining down from the sky
Gently passing they kiss your tears when you cry
See the wind the summer blow your hair upon your head
See the rain, the falling rain, it's great
Still i'm sad
All my sounds my tears just fall into days
They are driving the night will find they are lost
Now i found the wind is blowing time into my heart
When the wind blows hard we are apart
Still i'm sad
See the stars come joining down from the sky
Gently passing they kiss your tears when you cry
See the wind the summer blow your hair upon your head
See the rain, the falling rain, it's great
Still i'm sad
Still i'm sad
Oh heart, i'm sad
Still i'm sad
Oh heart, i'm sad

song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Still Im Sad

See the stars come joining down from the sky
Gently passing they kiss your tears when you cry
See the wind the summer blow your hair upon your head
See the rain, the falling rain, its great
Still Im sad
All my sounds my tears just fall into days
They are driving the night will find they are lost
Now I found the wind is blowing time into my heart
When the wind blows hard we are apart
Still Im sad
See the stars come joining down from the sky
Gently passing they kiss your tears when you cry
See the wind the summer blow your hair upon your head
See the rain, the falling rain, its great
Still Im sad
Still Im sad
Oh heart, Im sad
Still Im sad
Oh heart, Im sad

song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To a Prospective Cook

Curly locks, Curly Locks, wilt thou be ours?
Thou shalt not wash dishes, nor yet weed the flowers,
But stand in the kitchen and cook a fine meal,
And ride every night in an automobile.

Curly Locks, Curly Locks, come to us soon!
Thou needest not to rise until mid-afternoon;
Thou mayest be Croatian, Armenian, or Greek;
Thy guerdon shall be what thy askest per week.

Curly Locks, Curly Locks, give us a chance!
Thou shalt not wash windows, nor iron my pants.
Oh, come to the cosiest of seven-room bowers,
Curly Locks, Curly Locks, wilt thou be ours?

poem by Franklin P. Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Red Sky: The Good Shepherd and I

Jesus, the good shepherd, once said:
'When it is evening, ye say,
It will be fair weather:
For the sky is red.
And in the morning,
It will be foul weather today:
For the sky is red and lowering.'

Evening red and morning gray
Are the signs of a bonny day.

Evening red:
'Shepherd's delight, '
Daddy said.

That is to say,
'Red sky at night,
Shepherd's delight.'

Evening gray and morning red
Bring down rain on the farmer's head.

Morning red:
'Shepherd's warning, '
Daddy said.

That is to say,
'Red sky in the morning,
Shepherd's warning.'

Evening gray and morning red
Brought down rain on my father's head.

My father, a seasoned farmer,
Could discern the face of the sky.
O Lord, my shepherd, so can I.

poem by Monty Gilmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Telling the Bees

Here is the place; right over the hill
Runs the path I took;
You can see the gap in the old wall still,
And the stepping-stones in the shallow brook.

There is the house, with the gate red-barred,
And the poplars tall;
And the barn's brown length, and the cattle-yard,
And the white horns tossing above the wall.

There are the beehives ranged in the sun;
And down by the brink
Of the brook are her poor flowers, weed-o'errun,
Pansy and daffodil, rose and pink.

A year has gone, as the tortoise goes,
Heavy and slow;
And the same rose blows, and the same sun glows,
And the same brook sings of a year ago.

There 's the same sweet clover-smell in the breeze;
And the June sun warm
Tangles his wings of fire in the trees,
Setting, as then, over Fernside farm.

I mind me how with a lover's care
From my Sunday coat
I brushed off the burrs, and smoothed my hair,
And cooled at the brookside my brow and throat.

Since we parted, a month had passed, --
To love, a year;
Down through the beeches I looked at last
On the little red gate and the well-sweep near.

I can see it all now, -- the slantwise rain
Of light through the leaves,
The sundown's blaze on her window-pane,
The bloom of her roses under the eaves.

Just the same as a month before, --
The house and the trees,
The barn's brown gable, the vine by the door, --
Nothing changed but the hives of bees.

Before them, under the garden wall,
Forward and back,
Went drearily singing the chore-girl small,
Draping each hive with a shred of black.

Trembling, I listened: the summer sun
Had the chill of snow;
For I knew she was telling the bees of one
Gone on the journey we all must go!

Then I said to myself, "My Mary weeps
For the dead to-day:
Haply her blind old grandsire sleeps
The fret and the pain of his age away."

But her dog whined low; on the doorway sill,
With his cane to his chin,
The old man sat; and the chore-girl still
Sung to the bees stealing out and in.

And the song she was singing ever since
In my ear sounds on: --
"Stay at home, pretty bees, fly not hence!
Mistress Mary is dead and gone!"

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An' Another Thing

Rain for me oh you but called me
Its my broken heart just where you leave me
Now I say to you, ooooh boy.
Weight on my head
You wont go up, oh
Weight on my head
Oooh ooh my babe...
Stay a minute just to hear you waitin,
And no one confine her
Sweet and tender wont you go out again?
Oh, rain on my head
Wouldnt you
Rain on my head?
Oh, someone take off a
Weight all alone
Ahh, I met a girl recently.
All in a sudden, all a suddenly
Nobody deal for the woe of the world
Wait, all a sudden, all a suddenly
It will all would be, all would be over
Wait, come on rain on my head.
Water water!
Dates,
Many, many dates how you all die.
Oh rain money,
Grow a war at heart
And in the fire,
One out of a million.
.. wait a minute,
Touch your look on me
Denial, denial
Touch your work with me
Do not deny
Rain on my head
Rain on my head
Rain on my head
Rain on my head

song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whiskeyn Mama

Im so tired, you on my head.
Whiskeyn mama, you shouldnt have said
You wanted me to be your lover true,
Then turn around and treats me just likes you do.
I should have known better than to fool with a whiskeyn mama.
Now I could be right and could be wrong,
You been layin out all night long.
You telephoned this mornin, said youd be home soon.
The doorman said he seen you at the club blue lagoon.
I should have known better than to fool with a whiskeyn mama.
Whiskeyn mama, you standin there
With your curly hair
Just to have you do me good.
I know you could if you only would.
Whiskeyn mama, you standin there
With your curly hair
Just to have you do me good.
I know you could if you only would.
Well, the sun come shinin on the rain soaked street.
Whiskeyn mama, where can she be?
I guess Ill have to put you down on my list,
I didnt wanna do it but you insist.
I should have known better than to fool with a whiskeyn mama.

song performed by by ZZ Top
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Despairing Mary

Mary why thus waste thy youth-time in sorrow?
See, a' around you the flowers sweetly blaw;
Blithe sets the sun o'er the wild cliffs of Jura,
Blithe sings the mavis in ilka green shaw.
How can this heart ever mair think of pleasure,
Summer may smile, but delight I ha'e nane;
Cauld in the grave lies my heart's only treasure,
Nature seems dead since my Jamie is gane.

This 'kerchief he gave me, a true lover's token,
Dear, dear to me was the gift for his sake!
I wear't near my heart, but this poor heart is broken,
Hope died with Jamie, and left it to break
Sighing for him, I lie down in the e'ening,
Sighing for him, I awake in the morn;
Spent are my days a' in secret repining,
Peace to this bosom can never return.

Oft have we wander'd in sweetest retirement,
Telling our loves 'neath the moon's silent beam,
Sweet were our meetings of tender endearment,
But fled are these joys like a fleet-passing dream.
Cruel Remembrance, ah! why wilt thou wreck me,
Brooding o er joys that for ever are flown!
Cruel Remembrance, in pity forsake me,
Flee to some bosom where grief is unknown!

poem by Robert Tannahill
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Baby and the Rose

A rose tree grew by the garden wall,
And its highest blossom was just as tall
As my baby's curly head;
A lovely, fragrant, perfect rose,-
But sweeter from head to dimpled toes,
Was the baby I fondly led.

Now summer is over and winter gone,
And the winds of March are whistling on
Where the rose its petals shed;
No trace of rose perfumed and rare,
No baby face as seraph fair,
My baby sweet is dead.

The summer sun will shine again,
And 'neath the pattering, warm June rain,
Again the rose will bloom,
And so beyond these lowering skies
My baby dear, with smiling eyes,
Shall peer through earthly gloom,

And guide me with her angel hand
Through Heaven's gates,-and with me stand
Away from worldly woes,-
Where Heaven's flowers, divinely sweet,
Soften the path for weary feet
With perfume of the rose.

poem by Ida McCormick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sliver Dream

To a curly hair girl

Last night, I dreamt in the dream

Orange tree, growing at my heart

Under blue sky, on the blue ocean

Wind of change, lifting my heart

Last night, I dream in the dream

Curly hair girl, walking softly

Visible into my eye, I only saw her shadow

With wing of angel, flying slowly

Over my starry sky, in my dream

Oh, curly hair girl, beheld me with your eye

And you will see, life is not a dream

Or love is not dream in my eye

Through lonely night, I dreamt of song

That neither lyric, nor music

Nor word, but I still could hear the song

Of your walking, softly, on my heart.

poem by Kathup Tsering
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Summer Rain

Whispering our goodbyes
Waiting for a train
I was dancing with my baby
In the summer rain
I can hear him saying
Nothing will change
Come dancing with me baby
In the summer rain
I remember the rain on our skin
And his kisses hotter than the
Santa ana winds
Whispering our goodbyes
Waiting for a train
I was dancing with my baby
In the summer rain
I remember laughing til we almost cried
(there at station that night)
I remember looking in his eyes
Oh my love, its you and that I dream of
Oh my love, since that day
Somewhere in my heart Im always
Dancing with you in the summer rain
Doesnt matter what I do now
Doesnt matter what I say
Somewhere in my heart Im always
Dancing with you in the summer rain
I can hear the whistle
Military train
I was dancing with my baby
In the summer rain
I can here him singing
Ooh love is strange
Come dance with me baby
In the summer rain
I remember the rain pouring down
And we poured our hearts out
As the train pulled out
I can see my baby
Waving from the train
It was last time that I saw him
In the summer rain
Every time I see the lightening
Every time I hear the thunder
Every time I close the window
When this happens in the summer
Oh the night is so inviting
I can feel that you are so close
I can feel you when the wind blows
Blows right through my heart
Every night and every day now
Though I know youve gone away
Somewhere in my heart Im always
Dancing with you in the summer rain

song performed by by Belinda Carlisle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bad Season Makes The Poet Sad

Dull to myself, and almost dead to these,
My many fresh and fragrant mistresses;
Lost to all music now, since every thing
Puts on the semblance here of sorrowing.
Sick is the land to th' heart; and doth endure
More dangerous faintings by her desperate cure.
But if that golden age would come again,
And Charles here rule, as he before did reign;
If smooth and unperplex'd the seasons were,
As when the sweet Maria lived here;
I should delight to have my curls half drown'd
In Tyrian dews, and head with roses crown'd:
And once more yet, ere I am laid out dead,
Knock at a star with my exalted head.

poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Still Im Sad

Version 1 (from stranger in us all)
See the stars come fallin down the sky
Gently passing, they kiss your tear drops dry
See the wind come, softly blow
Your hair from your face
And the rain comes falling down
In its crazy way
Still Im sad
For myself my tears just fall in the dust
As I search in the night and find theyre lost
See the wind come gently blow
Time into my heart
And the rain comes falling down
While were apart
Still Im sad
Version 2 (yardbirds version? )
See the stars come joining down from the skies
Gently passing they kiss your tears when you cry
See the wind of summer blow your hair upon your head
See the rain, the falling rain, its rain
Still Im sad
Oh my flowers, my tears are falling two days
They are driving the night profound, they are lost
Flower, flower the wind is blowing
Time into my heart
When the wind blows hard, we are apart
Still Im sad
Oh, oh, oh, oh, still Im sad
Oh, oh, oh, oh, how Im sad

song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Autumn

The leaves are many under my feet,
And drift one way.
Their scent of death is weary and sweet.
A flight of them is in the grey
Where sky and forest meet.

The low winds moan for sad sweet years;
The birds sing all for pain,
Of a common thing, to weary ears,--
Only a summer's fate of rain,
And a woman's fate of tears.

I walk to love and life alone
Over these mournful places,
Across the summer overthrown,
The dead joys of these silent faces,
To claim my own.

I know his heart has beat to bright
Sweet loves gone by;
I know the leaves that die to-night
Once budded to the sky;
And I shall die from his delight.

O leaves, so quietly ending now,
You heard the cuckoos sing.
And I will grow upon my bough
If only for a spring,
And fall when the rain is on my brow.

O tell me, tell me ere you die,
Is it worth the pain?
You bloomed so fair, you waved so high;
Now that the sad days wane,
Are you repenting where you lie?

I lie amongst you, and I kiss
Your fragrance mouldering.
O dead delights, is it such bliss,
That tuneful Spring?
Is love so sweet, that comes to this?

Kiss me again as I kiss you;
Kiss me again;
For all your tuneful nights of dew,
In this your time of rain,
For all your kisses when Spring was new.

You will not, broken hearts; let be.
I pass across your death
To a golden summer you shall not see,
And in your dying breath
There is no benison for me.

There is an autumn yet to wane,
There are leaves yet to fall,
Which, when I kiss, may kiss again,
And, pitied, pity me all for all,
And love me in mist and rain.

poem by Alice Meynell
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The First Meeting

Last night for the first time, O Heart's Delight,
I held your hand a moment in my own,
The dearest moment which my soul has known,
Since I beheld and loved you at first sight.

I left you, and I wandered in the night,
Under the rain, beside the ocean's moan.
All was black dark, but in the north alone
There was a glimmer of the Northern Light.

My heart was singing like a happy bird,
Glad of the present, and from forethought free,
Save for one note amid its music heard:
God grant, whatever end of this may be,
That when the tale is told, the final word
May be of peace and benison to thee.

poem by Robert Fuller Murray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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