The Wind that Shakes the Barley
There's music in my heart all day,
I hear it late and early,
It comes from fields are far away,
The wind that shakes the barley.
Above the uplands drenched with dew
The sky hangs soft and pearly,
An emerald world is listening to
The wind that shakes the barley.
Above the bluest mountain crest
The lark is singing rarely,
It rocks the singer into rest,
The wind that shakes the barley.
Oh, still through summers and through springs
It calls me late and early.
Come home, come home, come home, it sings,
The wind that shakes the barley.
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Rigs o' Barley
It was upon a Lammas night,
When corn rigs are bonie,
Beneath the moon's unclouded light,
I held awa to Annie;
The time flew by, wi' tentless heed,
Till, 'tween the late and early,
Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed
To see me thro' the barley.
Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,
An' corn rigs are bonie:
I'll ne'er forget that happy night,
Amang the rigs wi' Annie.
The sky was blue, the wind was still,
The moon was shining clearly;
I set her down, wi' right good will,
Amang the rigs o' barley:
I ken't her heart was a' my ain;
I lov'd her most sincerely;
I kiss'd her owre and owre again,
Amang the rigs o' barley.
Corn rigs, an' barley rigs, &c.
I lock'd her in my fond embrace;
Her heart was beating rarely:
My blessings on that happy place,
Amang the rigs o' barley!
But by the moon and stars so bright,
That shone that hour so clearly!
She aye shall bless that happy night
Amang the rigs o' barley.
Corn rigs, an' barley rigs, &c.
I hae been blythe wi' comrades dear;
I hae been merry drinking;
I hae been joyfu' gath'rin gear;
I hae been happy thinking:
But a' the pleasures e'er I saw,
Tho' three times doubl'd fairly,
That happy night was worth them a',
Amang the rigs o' barley.
Corn rigs, an' barley rigs, &c.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Fields Of Gold
Youll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
Youll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold
So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold
Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
Well forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold
See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that Ive broken
But I swear in the days still left
Well walk in the fields of gold
Well walk in the fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
Youll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song (It was upon a Lammas night)
It was upon a Lammas night,
When corn rigs are bonie,
Beneath the moon's unclouded light,
I held awa to Annie:
The time flew by, wi' tentless heed,
Till 'tween the late and early;
Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed,
To see me thro' the barley.
The sky was blue, the wind was still,
The moon was shinning clearly;
I set her down, wi' right good will,
Amang the rigs o' barley:
I ken't her heart was a' my ain;
I lov'd her most sincerely;
I kiss'd her owre and owre again,
Amang the rigs o' barley.
I lock'd her in my fond embrace;
Her heart was beating rarely:
My blessing on that happy place,
Amang the rigs o' barley!
But by the moon and stars so bright,
That shone that hour so clearly!
She ay shall bless that happy night,
Amang the rigs o' barley.
I hae been blythe wi' Comrades dear;
I hae been merry drinking;
I hae been joyfu' gath'rin gear;
I hae been happy thinking:
But a' the pleasures e'er I saw,
Tho' three times doubl'd fairly,
That happy night was worth them a',
Amang the rigs o' barley.
Chorus Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,
An' corn rigs are bonie:
I'll ne'er forget the happy night,
Amang the rigs wi' Annie.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Rigs O' Barley, The
It was upon a Lammas night,
When corn rigs are bonnie,
Beneath the moon's unclouded light,
I held away to Annie:
The time flew by wi' tentless heed
Till 'tween the late and early,
Wi' sma' persuasion, she agreed
To see me thro' the barley.
Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,
An' corn rigs are bonnie:
I'll ne'er forget that happy night,
Amang the rigs wi' Annie.
The sky was blue, the wind was still,
The moon was shining clearly:
I set her down, wi' right good will,
Amang the rigs o' barley:
I ken't her heart was a' my ain:
I lov'd her most sincerely;
I kiss'd her owre and owre again,
Amang the rigs o' barley.
Corn rigs...
I lock'd her in my fond embrace;
Her heart was beating rarely:
My blessings on that happy place,
Amang the rigs o' barley!
But by the moon and stars so bright,
That shone that hour so clearly!
She aye shall bless that happy night,
Amang the rigs o' barley.
Corn rigs...
I ha'e been blythe wi' comrades dear;
I ha'e been merry drinkin';
I ha'e been joyfu' gatherin' gear;
I ha'e been happy thinkin':
But a' the pleasures e'er I saw,
Tho' three times doubled fairly,
That happy night was worth then a',
Amang the rigs o' barley.
Corn rigs...
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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John Barley-Corn, My Foe
John Barley-corn, my foe, John,
The song I have to sing
Is not in praise of you, John,
E'en though you are a king.
Your subjects they are legion, John,
I find where'er I go:
They wear your yoke upon their necks,
John Barley-Corn, my foe.
John Barley-Corn, my foe, John,
By your despotic sway
The people of our country, John,
Are suffering to-day.
You lay the lash upon their backs;
Yet willingly they go
And pay allegiance at the polls,
John Barley-Corn, my foe.
John Barley-Corn, my foe, John,
You've broken many a heart,
And caused the bitter tear, John,
From many an eye to start,
The widow and the fatherless
From pleasant homes to go,
And lead a life of sin and shame,
John Barley-Corn, my foe.
John Barley-Corn, my foe, John,
May Heaven speed the hour,
When Temperance shall wear the crown
And Rum shall lose its power;
When from the East unto the West
The people all shall know
Their greatest curse has been removed,
John Barley-Corn, my foe!
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Bannocks O' Bear Meal
Chorus:
Bannocks o' bear meal,
Bannocks o' barley,
Here's to the Highlandman's
Bannocks o' barley!
Wha, in a brulyie, will
First cry a parley?
Never the lads wi' the
Bannocks o' barley,
Chorus:
Wha, in his wae days,
Were loyal to Charlie?
Wha but the lads wi' the
Bannocks o' barley!
Chorus:
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Scarecrow
The black and green scarecrow as everyone knows
Stood with a bird on his hat and straw everywhere.
He didnt care.
He stood in a field where barley grows.
His head did no thinking
His arms didnt move except then the wind cut up
Rough and mice ran around on the ground
He stood in a field where barley grows.
The black and green scarecrow is sadder than me
But now hes resigned to his fate
cause lifes not unkind - he doesnt mind.
He stood in a field where barley grows.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Scarecrow
The black and green scarecrow as everyone knows
Stood with a bird on his hat and straw everywhere.
He didnt care.
He stood in a field where barley grows.
His head did no thinking
His arms didnt move except when the wind cut up
Rough and mice ran around on the ground
He stood in a field where barley grows.
The black and green scarecrow is sadder than me
But now hes resigned to his fate
cause lifes not unkind - he doesnt mind.
He stood in a field where barley grows.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Wind
This wind it howls, this wind it moans,
A mournful eerie sound.
This wind gathers fallen autumnal leaves,
Just to dash them to the ground.
This wind makes fools of washing lines,
On its travels throughout the nation.
This wind plays with all the locomotives,
Huddled at St.Pancras railway station.
This wind buffets and shakes the aeroplanes,
As they seek a calmer, foreign sky.
This wind will grow tired soon enough,
Then it will surely die.
Shadows On The Barley
(DickKellyMosleyRotheryTrewavas)
[The music for this song later became "The Bell In The Sea"]
Storm clouds cruising cross the blue skies
Shadows float across the fields of barley
I find myself an island in an island
I have to sort things out just my way
And all I find is my bar
To laugh to me I say
Like all you know is true
Is for every time we know it's mine
I saw clouds cruise floating cross the blue sky
Shadows float across the fields of barley
Hero down the right ... way
Everything will come out my way
Now I know, I see, I find
It's the only way I ever felt the way I do today
All I say, I play the game
I know I never could be sure of all the places that I've seen
Clouds cruising cross the blue skies
Shadows float across the fields of barley
Every self an island in an island
Working every problem out my way
Now I see, I feel, I know
It's the only way that anything could sort out to the way
I say you'll find it's out of mind
It's the only way I could have been
It's the only way I stand
Clouds cruise
Float upon the barley
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: The Wind
What shakes the trees so violently? ’Tis Wind;
What moves the clouds hither/ thither? ’Tis Wind;
What takes the tornado around? ’Tis Wind;
What brings the sandstorm on the earth? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the cool and gentle breeze? ’Tis Wind
What makes the boughs and leaves to dance? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the autumn leaves to fall? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the honey-bees to fly? ’Tis Wind.
What makes pollen reach in showers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the dust to climb towers? ’Tis Wind;
What spreads the perfume of flowers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the rain-clouds advance far? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the Wind to blow? ’Tis God;
What makes a Tempest stop? ’ Tis our Lord.
7-18-2001
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Happy Flatite
We were living in a flat; it was number eighty-three.
At eighty-four the Barleys lived, a fearsome man was he.
He had a wife and numerous kids. We heard then rip and cuss,
Some three feet and a quarter off, across the hall from us.
And when the Barley boys broke out, and ended up in fight,
Or when the Barley baby read the Riot Act at night,
And on their balcony their cat put up an eerie moan,
The fearful Barley family might as well have been our own.
When Barley after parting with some others of the ilk
Came panting up the narrow stairs, and drank our jug of milk,
Then broke out at his missus, and as fiercely answered she –
Where was the great advantage of our marked sobriety?
When Barley bedded early he would shake the common floor
And fill the gulf of night with an intolerable snore,
And people in the other wing at us their bluchers threw –
What good if we slept soft as snow and silent as the dew?
This Barley when unoccupied would fill my study chair,
And utilise much time, and take up space I could not spare,
To tell me of the deeds he’d done, his drinkings deep and vast,
And ladies who had loved him in his sanguinary past.
And Mrs. Barley dropped in – in the morning, as a rule –
And stayed till lunch and chattered like a ladies’ boarding-school.
Then she borrowed bread and onions, and wondered if she might
Leave her little Willie with us. She was going out till night.
Our little flat’s forsaken; we have left St. Kilda road;
We knew not where to go to, and we haven’t an abode;
But no flat in any building that we’d suffered in was worth
The comfort of a camp-out. So we’re flat upon the earth!
poem by Edward George Dyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Interlude
O, the fun, the fun and frolic
That The Wind that Shakes the Barley
Scatters through a penny-whistle
Tickled with artistic fingers!
Kate the scrubber (forty summers,
Stout but sportive) treads a measure,
Grinning, in herself a ballet,
Fixed as fate upon her audience.
Stumps are shaking, crutch-supported;
Splinted fingers tap the rhythm;
And a head all helmed with plasters
Wags a measured approbation.
Of their mattress-life oblivious,
All the patients, brisk and cheerful,
Are encouraging the dancer,
And applauding the musician.
Dim the gas-lights in the output
Of so many ardent smokers,
Full of shadow lurch the corners,
And the doctor peeps and passes.
There are, maybe, some suspicions
Of an alcoholic presence . . .
'Tak' a sup of this, my wumman!' . . .
New Year comes but once a twelvemonth.
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Open Up, Give In
open up into the air
breath all the sounds
feel the wind around
can you feel it build
can you hear me break
have you seen the scares
of the war the world takes
can you hear silence
when all you need is sound
open up to the air
let your heart pound
feel the wild wind
let go to the howl
its a peace breaking day
but then night comes
it shakes you
it breaks you
like the wind
just give in
poem by Audrey Marie Kay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wind Child
The Wind has a voice,
A sad, sweet voice
I've heard it sing
Long and beautiful
Like Wind should be,
Carrying forever
The singing Wind is rarely heard
It's quiet and soft and
Unnoticeable
I am a Wind Child
I hear the Wind as
She sings her sad, sweet song
I am a Wind Child
And I sing with the Wind
Wind Children are rare as
True Hope
Special as Love
Wind Child
Is me
poem by Sahar Alive
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wind Me Up
I've got something
That you ought to know
Don't even know
Whether to come or go
Up down
Head's spinning around
Wind up in
The lost and found
Wind me up, Wind me up
Wind me up, Wind me up
Wind me up, Wind me up
Tell me why
You make it so hard
All I ask is
Finish what you start
Wind me up, Wind me up
Wind me up, Wind me up
Wind me up, Wind me up
Wind me up that's
All you do
Wind me up and
Leave me blue
I'd like to see if
You could be
Kind enough to me
When you
Wind me up
Don't take me places
Then wanna go home
Sometimes, I think
I'm better off alone
Hey girl, you know
What you do
Color me red
Then leave me blue
song performed by by Extreme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Are With A Vision
I am on a mission to touch your heart with my love and,
You are with a vision to meet me at the gate of love;
But like flattering divinations,
It always starts from somewhere before it gets to you.
A violent wind and a super love,
A stormy wind and of your lovely mind;
But you betrayed me because of a handful of barley and a piece of bread!
And you've killed those who should not have died.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Will Of The Wind
The voices in the wind,
Will take you home again,
The journey home has just begun by friend,
The magic in your eyes,
Was more than I surmised,
And I surrender time and time again,
To the will of the wind
The will of the wind, child
The wind in the wind chimes,
Takes you home again.
The will of the wind
The will of the wind, child
The wind in the wind chimes,
Takes you home again.
The will of the wind
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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* * *
Eros seizes and shakes my very soul
like the wind on the mountain
shaking ancient oaks.
Homeward
Behind a trench in Flanders the sun was dropping low,
With tramp, and creak and jingle I heard the gun-teams go;
And something seemed to 'mind me, a-dreaming as I lay,
Of my own old Hampshire village at the quiet end of day.
Brown thatch and gardens blooming with lily and with rose,
And the cool shining river so pleasant where he flows,
White fields of oats and barley, and elderflower like foam,
And the sky gold with sunset, and the horses going home!
(
Home, lad, home, all among the corn and clover!
Home, lad, home when the time for work is over!
Oh there's rest for horse and man when the longest day is done
And they go home together at setting of the sun!
)
Old Captain, Prince and Blossom, I see them all so plain,
With tasseled ear-caps nodding along the leafy lane,
There's a bird somewhere calling, and the swallow flying low,
And the lads sitting sideways, and singing as they go.
Well gone is many a lad now, and many a horse gone too,
Off all those lads and horses in those old fields I knew;
There's Dick that died at Cuinchy and Prince beside the guns
On the red road of glory, a mile or two from Mons!
Dead lads and shadowy horses - I see them just the same,
I see them and I know them, and name them each by name,
Going down to shining waters when all the West's a-glow,
And the lads sitting sideways and singing as they go.
(
Home, lad, home . . . with the sunset on their faces!
Home, lad, home . . . to those quiet happy places!
There's rest for horse and man when the hardest fight is done,
And they go home together at setting of the sun!
)
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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