What She Said
She said: Would I might sleep
With the bulbs I plant so deep,
Forgetting all the long Winter
That I must awake and weep.
A dreamless sleepy-head,
Forgetting my Dear was dead;
Nothing caring nor knowing
While the dark season sped.
I am so young, so young,
And the years stretch out so long,
The weeks and the months so endless;
The long life does me wrong.
I would grow old and grey,
As though 'twere only a day,
Till his voice came calling, calling
To me under the clay.
Then I should spring to the sun,
Life done with, Life begun,
And run where he waited to lift me
Over the threshold stone.
She sighed in the Autumn weather: --
Would I and the bulbs together,
For Spring lay quietly waiting;
I and the bulbs together.
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Alas, So Long!
AH! dear one, we were young so long,
It seemed that youth would never go,
For skies and trees were ever in song
And water in singing flow
In the days we never again shall know.
Alas, so long!
Ah! then was it all Spring weather?
Nay, but we were young and together.
Ah! dear one, I've been old so long,
It seems that age is loth to part,
Though days and years have never a song,
And oh! have they still the art
That warmed the pulses of heart to heart?
Alas, so long!
Ah! then was it all Spring weather?
Nay, but we were young and together.
Ah! dear one, you've been dead so long,—
How long until we meet again,
Where hours may never lose their song
Nor flowers forget the rain
In glad noonlight that never shall wane?
Alas, so long!
Ah! shall it be then Spring weather,
And ah! shall we be young together?
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Life Is Lovely All the Year
When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!
Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!
In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.
Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Green Shoots
My morning stroll, a search for signs of spring.
The sun is bright although the temperature is low
But has been lower throughout the long night
Beneath the trees the grass is frosted white.
Frost crystals sparkle with reflected light.
But still I search for signs although I know.
Until the soil is warm nothing will grow.
Despite the fact I can't see anything.
Beneath the soil ready to germinate.
Seeds bulbs and corms are waiting patiently
For soil conditions to become just right
Life held suspended in a dormant state.
One day soon, they will suddenly break free.
Spring will arrive at last to my delight.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Waited So Long
I waited so long 9 months in fact, the birth it felt like an attack
I waited so long to turn my back, on childhood and 12 years intact
I waited so long to turn 16, get a car exploit the dream
I waited so long to find a girl, the one I'd love and begin a world
I waited so long to graduate, leave behind an untold fate
I waited so long to be married, no longer a child to be carried
I waited so long to learn a craft, then came along our nations draft
I waited so long to turn 21, end adolescence, adult life begun
I waited so long to be a Dad, raise a child, my heart feel glad
I waited so long to have a son, feel proud inside new line begun
I waited so long to be a grandparent, love a child and not be errant
I waited so long to get this far to find myself, with many a scar
Life's a challenge, and that's a fact, but time is short, so compact
Life goes on the wrinkles I hate, the pounds put on, just won't wait
No longer to wait, from now on I happen,
Others can wait, It's energy I'm sappin'
poem by Daniel Lloyd Kennedy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Where does the Winter go?
There goes the Winter, sulkily slinking
Somewhere behind the trees on the hill.
He caught a vision of sweet Spring prinking
In green before her mirror---the rill.
And he turned away
With his face quite grey,
And he went without ever a glance behind him
But I want to know
Which way does he go,
And does anyone ever try to find him?
Is he caught to the sky in a burst of thunder
And tucked away in the clouds to sleep?
Or does he go down to the sea, I wonder,
And fling himself out where the waves roll deep?
Is he washed ashore
After tossings sore,
And found by some fisherman, pale and dying?
On some lonely beach
Beyond human reach
Still and stark is poor Winter lying?
Or climbs he up, with his grey head drooping,
Yon purple mountain that hides the sun,
And stooping and rising, rising and stooping,
Digs a grave where never was one?
And then lies down
In his grey, pale gown
A prayer on his lips, and his hands together?
"What tears will they shed
Because I am dead?
They will dance on my grave all the bright Spring weather."
Oh! Winter, Winter, my tears are falling,
Are you glad of the tears of a little child?
Though Spring is abroad and calling, calling,
I cling to the edge of your cloak so wild.
And I kiss your hand
And I understand,
And I smooth your proor grey head, low-lying,
Ah! I cannot sing
Just yet with the Spring
While Winter, Winter, is pale and dying.
poem by Ethel Turner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The First Spring Day
THE sunshine died long ago,
Stifled out long ago,
And the waste of the world was grey,
And night was the best to know,
For night was to doze and forget the day,
To be warm and forgetting and still,
And need not the sun and know not the chill:
But oh, for the day that was darkened so!
Why gaze on a barren heaven,
Void and unchanging heaven,
On a barren earth in the grime,
And not a poor blossom given,
No thing that was thinking of sunshine time,
For a promise, a praise of the past?
And so one forgot the sunshine at last;
And sleep could avail, but what to have striven?
The sunshine wakes once anew,
Wakes and is born anew,
And the Age of the earth grows young,
And heaven has its youth for hue,
And hope is the tune of the spring-bird's tongue,
And the leaves in their prisons all hark,
And blossoms will know there is end of the dark:
One hour of the sun, and the spring-time grew!
The sunshine new on the earth,
Heaven to brighten the earth,
And the deathful dimness gone by,
The barren and winter dearth!
And to-day is the best till the next is nigh,
And to-night is to-morrow begun,
To-morrow, when blossoms remember the sun!
Dead hopes, are ye born with the blossoms birth?
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Young Laughters, and My Music!
Young laughters, and my music! Aye till now
The voice can reach no blending minors near;
'Tis the bird's trill because the spring is here
And spring means trilling on a blossomy bough;
'Tis the spring joy that has no why or how,
But sees the sun and hopes not nor can fear--
Spring is so sweet and spring seems all the year.
Dear voice, the first-come birds but trill as thou.
Oh music of my heart, be thus for long:
Too soon the spring bird learns the later song;
Too soon a sadder sweetness slays content
Too soon! There comes new light on onward day,
There comes new perfume o'er a rosier way:
Comes not again the young spring joy that went.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Spring Is
Spring is birds singing their heads off
Spring is a beautiful season full of color
Spring is the constant war between the sun and rain
Spring is the light at the end of the long winter tunnel
Spring is the season that brings back life
poem by Kristina Lybbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fairies Come A-calling
winter fairies come
a-calling
faces pressed window panes
twinkling
frost makes lacy prints
glittering
light snow pristine pure
falling
world young life fresh
breathing
winter fairies come
a-calling
spring fairies come
a-calling
birds return twig nests
building
flowers open petals pink
blooming
fresh life everywhere
springing
pink green blue pale
coloring
easter eggs painted coats
hiding
spring fairies come
a-calling
summer fairies come
a-calling
evenings teem fireflies
sparkling
watermelon opens red
eating
grass crisps green gold
waving
wind soft thunder nights
lightning
ocean swim hazy twilights
fishing
summer fairies come
a-calling
autumn fairies come
a-calling
colors ripe red gold
falling
harvest pumpkins orange
picking
apples delicious fresh
tasting
leaves underfoot piles
crackling
autumn fairies come
a-calling
poem by Sophia White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Let the Spring Winds Blow
Who divided the rivers and mountains
Forty-five years ago, hearts were torn, blood flowed
Standing and waiting, turning to stone looking at my homeland
The cries of anguish are no longer heard No fertile land for the trees to grow, no water to float the ships
No flight in the sky, where did it go
Known long ago, Korea was the rising sun of the East
Everywhere, tall trees, clear waters, blue skies To roam everywhere, to greet everyone
But that was yesterday
Spring comes to other countries, where everyone can travel
But winter snow blocks the path to my homeland Following year to year, people and seasons come and go
I am waiting, why are the spring winds not blowing
Winter is long and cold but spring must come
The seeds are waiting to bloom Spring has arrived, let us join hands
Let us plant trees on the mountains
Let us sail our ships on the rivers
Let us fly far into the sky
poem by Michael I. Byun
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Forget Myself
Would you believe it?
Those sapphire eyes
My birthstone, photogenic thighs
And the cameras flash they treat us like stars
We get free rides in chauffeured cars
We talk on the phone and your voice is desire
Winter blows with the summer fires
I promised you whats ours is ours
Somewhere backstage with sean and lars
I go crazy when you walk in the room
I laugh at myself with the girl in bloom
Gimme sex couldnt be too soon
All afternoon then
La parties in the phony lands
Bony grabs with the manicured hands
I always thought you are pretty like a whip
I shouldve watched my step
Cuz I keep on forgetting myself
And I keep on forgetting myself
I keep forgetting myself and
I keep on forgetting myself
I keep on forgetting myself
And I keep on forgetting myself
Who am i?
We both dont know
Time ticks by, where did it go?
You always knew where you were going to
So sweetly you said please come with you
The biggest fear running through my head
When you said you loved me you meant what you said
I was floating - did it go to my head?
When we still sleep with the dogs on the bed?
But the la parties and the vodka fizz
This is not my life, or maybe it is?
And I keep on forgetting myself
And I keep on forgetting myself
I keep forgetting myself and
I keep on forgetting myself
I keep on forgetting myself
And I keep on forgetting myself
Who am i? we both dont know
Time ticks by, where did it go?
Oh I make you doubt me
Oh I dont know why
Youre better off without me
Think Im looking over your shoulder
Cuz theres someone younger and youre feeling older
Youre crazy cuz you never faded
Dont want to be so complicated
See my life come undone
I watch it go and let the damage run
Id change this song now if I could
In the slickness of your blood
(yo yo sabien sabien)
I keep on forgetting myself
And I keep on forgetting myself
I keep forgetting myself and
I keep on forgetting myself (where did you go? )
I keep on forgetting myself
And I keep on forgetting myself
Who am i? we both dont know
Whoa whoa whoa where did you go?
Where did you go now?
Where did you go?
Where did you go?
Where did you go?
Where did you go?
Hello hello hello...
song performed by by Third Eye Blind
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
How Low Can a Low Blow Go?
How low can a low blow go?
'Are you still hopeful
For the return of the dollar per gallon,
Gasoline?
How about your taxes actually used
For your benefit and well being?
Remember the 'family values' slogan?
How about your quality of life,
Being restored...
Before you ignored its slide?
I would say,
Someone's in denial! '
I am still hopeful!
'Great!
I am sending down a life long supply
Of flashlight bulbs and batteries!
Keep trusting 'this' is going to turn around!
You've got a long way down to go!
Apparently...
The low blows are still coming.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Waiting For Spring
Though cloudy skies, and northern blasts,
Retard the gentle spring awhile;
The sun will conqu'ror prove at last,
And nature wear a vernal smile.
The promise, which from age to age,
Has brought the changing seasons round;
Again shall calm the winter's rage,
Perfume the air, and paint the ground.
The virtue of that first command,
I know still does, and will prevail;
That while the earth itself shall stand,
The spring and summer shall not fail.
Such changes are for us decreed;
Believers have their winters too;
But spring shall certainly succeed,
And all their former life renew.
Winter and spring have each their use,
And each, in turn, his people know;
One kills the weeds their hearts produce,
The other makes their graces grow.
Though like dead trees awhile they seem,
Yet having life within their root,
The welcome spring's reviving beam
Draws forth their blossoms, leaves, and fruit.
But if the tree indeed be dead,
It feels no change, though spring return,
Its leafless naked, barren head,
Proclaims it only fit to burn.
Dear Lord, afford our souls a spring,
Thou know'st our winter has been long;
Shine forth, and warm our hearts to sing,
And thy rich grace shall be our song.
poem by John Newton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Spring Song II
THE spring is here, and the long nights grow
Less bitterly cold than awhile ago;
Our rags serve their purpose now, and keep
Warmth enough in us to let us sleep.
The rain that trickles down our walls
No longer seems to freeze as it falls;
There was dust, not mud, on our feet to-day;
There's some green in a flower-pot over the way;
The sky-strip over the court's changed hue,
From dull yellow-grey to clear grey-blue;
Through our broken windows no more the storm
Laughs and shrieks as we try to keep warm,
But through dusty panes the long sunbeams peer,
For the spring is here.
Small joy the greenness and grace of spring
To grey hard lives like our own can bring.
A drowning man cares little to think
Of the lights on the waves where he soon must sink.
The greenest garments the spring can wear
Are black already with our despair:
Earth will be one with us soon--shall we care
If snow or sunshine be over us there,
Or if wintry the world be we found so drear,
Or if spring be here?
In the western half of our Christian town
The Winter only pretends to frown,
And when his undreaded rage is done,
The 'London season' they say is begun.
With wine, feast, revelling, laugh and song,
The hours rose-garlanded dance along,
The whirl of wickedness wilder grows
In this western camp of our bitter foes;
They fight with each other--the victors take
The largest share of the wealth we make;
They spend on their horses, their women, their wives,
The money wrung from our blasted lives:
It is theirs to enjoy--it is ours to pay.
Do they never dream of a reckoning day,
When the lives they have wrecked shall be counted up,
And measured the blood that has brightened their cup,
When we who have worked shall take payment due,
And they for their work shall have payment too?
Do they dream of that coming hour? Not they!
Their feet flit fast down the smooth steep way,
They see not the waiting snakes that hide
In the hothouse flowers at their life-path's side,
They know no justice, no pity, no fear--
But the spring is here!
Yes--here! In the hope we had almost lost,
That has sprung to bud after long years' frost;
In this fire in our veins that cries, 'Give youth,
Love, manhood, life, for the Right and the Truth;'
In our steady purpose, for Freedom's sake,
Through custom, privilege, 'fate,' to break;
In the brains of the thinkers, the arms of the men
Who will strike, and strike, and still strike again,
Till they cut our way to the land of flowers,
And the summer of freedom at last is ours--
In these is the spring. The winter was sore--
It is over and done, and will come no more.
The fruit will grow with the changing year,
Though only the blossoms now appear;
For the sake of the fruit the blossoms are dear,
And the spring is here--the spring is here.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Walnut Tree
Once there was a great storm
Pushed my head beneath the waves, I was gone
Underneath the walnut tree
Where you said you'd wait for me
And I waited a long, long time
I waited a long, long time
I waited a long, long time
I waited a long, long time
I waited a long, long time
Why, why do I come here?
Seeking out the memories I handed
Cause you put your spell on me
Made me live a memory
And I'm frozen in just the wrong time
I waited a long, long time
I waited a long, long time
I waited a long, long time
I waited a long, long time
song performed by by Keane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Mortal One
Three months after he lies dead, that
long yellow narrow body,
not like Christ but like one of his saints,
the naked ones in the paintings whose bodies are
done in gilt, all knees and raw ribs,
the ones who died of nettles, bile, the
one who died roasted over a slow fire—
three months later I take the pot of
tulip bulbs out of the closet
and set it on the table and take off the foil hood.
The shoots stand up like young green pencils,
and there in the room is the comfortable smell of rot,
the bulb that did not make it, marked with
ridges like an elephant's notched foot,
I walk down the hall as if I were moving through the
long stem of the tulip toward the closed sheath.
In the kitchen I throw a palmful of peppercorns into the
saucepan
as if I would grow a black tree from the soup,
I throw out the rotten chicken part,
glad again that we burned my father
before one single bloom of mold could
grow up
out of him,
maybe it had begun in his bowels but we burned his
bowels
the way you burn the long blue
scarf of the dead, and all their clothing,
cleansing with fire. How fast time goes
now that I'm happy, now that I know how to
think of his dead body every day
without shock, almost without grief,
to take it into each part of the day the
way a loom parts the vertical threads,
half to the left half to the right like the Red Sea and you
throw the shuttle through with the warp-thread
attached to the feet, that small gold figure of my father—
how often I saw him in paintings and did not know him,
the tiny naked dead one in the corner,
the mortal one.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Sharon Olds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sweet Lorraine
April came with its answers...
And oh, how that Spring simply flew
The bad news ordered radiation and toxins
I knew, we were beginning to loose you;
Your barefeet pale against the fresh cut grass...
Pinks and Carnations abloom with hope filled smiles
Golden red delicious apples fell to the ground
As, i walked, this our summer time mile;
So many gifts of time HE had given to us...
With each season-we continued to grow and know-
Your eyes-as blue as the summer sky
And in the summer sun-your falling auburn hair still glowed;
But dreading Autumn and all of its changes...
Having to watch your once perfect form grow thin
Skin and bone, against the burnished Fall leaves-
Loosing the battle, you had hoped to win;
The harsh November wind claimed you...
Watching you fade into the icy frost
November 17 came calling like a thief in the night-
Your beautiful life-alas 'twas lost;
Missing you so very much, this day, mama...
Yet, after all the years-i feel your spirit ever near
And in this Spring breeze, i still feel your presence-
With your voice echoing: 'Theo, you have nothing to fear;
By: Theodora Onken
March 20,2012
Dedicated to my mother
Who passed away too young
From cancer. Though
I did not have her for
Long...she was the Best
And the time we did have
I have cherished my entire life.
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Spring—Time, O The Spring--Time
The Spring-time, O the Spring-time!
Who does not know it well?
When the little birds begin to build,
And the buds begin to swell.
When the sun with the clouds plays hide-and-seek,
And the lambs are bucking and bleating,
And the colour mounts to the maiden's cheek,
And the cuckoo scatters greeting;
In the Spring-time, joyous Spring-time!
The Summer, O the Summer!
Who does not know it well?
When the ringdoves coo the long day through,
And the bee refills his cell.
When the swish of the mower is heard at morn,
And we all in the woods go roaming,
And waiting is over, and love is born,
And shy lips meet in the gloaming;
In the Summer, ripening Summer!
The Autumn, O the Autumn!
Who does not know it well?
When the leaf turns brown, and the mast drops down,
And the chestnut splits its shell.
When we muse o'er the days that have gone before,
And the days that will follow after,
When the grain lies deep on the winnowing-floor,
And the plump gourd hangs from the rafter;
In the Autumn, thoughtful Autumn!
The Winter, O the Winter!
Who does not know it well?
When, day after day, the fields stretch gray,
And the peewit wails on the fell.
When we close up the crannies and shut out the cold,
And the wind sounds hoarse and hollow,
And our dead loves sleep in the churchyard mould,
And we feel that we soon shall follow;
In the Winter, mournful Winter!
poem by Alfred Austin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Winter Comes...
Where once the spring
Shone in our faces,
Tugged at our heart-strings
Danced at our traces,
Now there are chills,
Portents inside us,
Shadows from far-off hills
Now walk beside us.
Love came and went,
Followed its calling,
Left us to rue the chance
Glance of each falling,
Tears followed laughter,
Sadness brought pain,
Love flowed down gutters
With every spring rain.
What of the children
Laughing beside us?
Spring turned to summer
And quickly denied us;
Scorched our intentions
And scratched all our itches;
Where are the children now?
Hedgerows and ditches!
So much for summer, one
Long dissipation,
Autumn leaves spiral
And pile desolation,
Deep in our hearts those old
Tears are still falling,
Dark clouds are gathering
As winter comes calling.
15 March 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Long, Long Ago
Long, long ago, so very long ago
I waited for someone that I didn't know.
The wait was a long arduous task to bear.
I started seeing silver strands in my hair.
I kept myself busy and life was passing away.
And every day that passed I saw more gray.
Then when I least expected it there you were
with shining blue eyes that set my heart astir.
Your hair had grayed just like mine.
We met and were astonished at life's design.
Where were we when we both were young?
Where were we when our heartstrings were strung,
vibrating like violin strings waiting for delight?
We were crying soundlessly into the night.
But where we are now we appreciate so.
Our search is over from long, long ago.
We live with happiness and never look back
We never think about the missing years or the lack.
For only a fool would concentrate on the past
because what I waited for is here at last.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!