The Moon Flower
I know a valley- through its solitude
A brown road winds towards a mountain crest;
There gnarly ti-trees dripping sweetness rest,
And grasses bend, too heavily bedowed.
In that still valley by the still lagoon,
A ruined homestead for her secret shrine,
Dwells Beauty's self, half-earthly, half-devine-
Thrilling, I saw her waken to the moon.
In peaks of emerald the cactus crept,
And there o'er rafters falling to decay,
A miracle of flowers, spray on spray,
Burst into perfect life while nature slept.
First a slim silver riband from the sky
Uncurled green fronds from each imprisoned bud,
Then, one by one, bathed in the beaming flood,
Like ghost-notes in a spirit litany.
They blossomed out before my eyes,
Great chalices of snow filled up with light;
Set in the mystic radiance of night
They seemed a vision from immortal skies.
Hidden in shadow near the still lagoon
Nightly I worship at a secret shrine,
There on a ruin- lily-white, devine,
Is beauty lying naked to the moon!
poem by Lala Fisher
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Related quotes
Solitude
This is the maiden Solitude, too fair
For mortal eyes to gaze on--she who dwells
In the lone valley where the water wells
Clear from the marble, where the mountain air
Is resinous with pines, and white peaks bare
Their unpolluted bosoms to the stars,
And holy Reverence the passage bars
To meaner souls who seek to enter there;
Only the worshipper at Nature's shrine
May find that maiden waiting to be won,
With broad calm brow and meek eyes of the dove,
May drink the rarer ether all divine,
And, earthly toils and earthly troubles done,
May win the longed-for sweetness of her love.
poem by James Lister Cuthbertson
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Makarora
Rocky peaks of Makarora in the summer wear their snow
And down the lush green grassy valley the clear mountain river flow
Songbirds piping in the beechwoods songthrush, bellbird and
redpoll
This a place of peace and beauty Makarora has a soul.
These great mountains look no different than to when the first man came
They have a wild rugged beauty for want of a better name
To the coming generations these high peaks will look the same
Man will not build houses on them man such wildness could not tame.
Summer's come to Makarora and along with her brought her green
Beauty to compare with any with the finest I have seen
This place would inspire an artist peaks in summer white
with snow
Beechwoods and through lush green valley sparkling mountain river flow.
Those high peaks of makarora will not change as years go by
Out there on those rugged mountains bones of Maori hunter lie
Still these mountains keep their secrets monarchs of the higher ground
Overlooking Makarora and the woodlands all around
Snow clad peaks of Makarora reaching upwards towards the sky
I am just a passing stranger and I'll be bidding you goodbye
But I will take with me the memories of beauty I have seen
today
Woodlands in a lush green valley by those mountains far away
poem by Francis Duggan
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The beauty of nature
She was called forth by His devine voice,
created by the power of His speech.
she's the beauty of His devine work,
peacefull and lovely filled with bliss.
her beauty holds perfection,
her joy knows no detention.
the softness of her voice is highly felt,
we are mesmerized by her pleasant scent.
trees growing at the river side,
bliss flowing at the viewer's mind.
waters flowing at the river banks,
quenching the thirst from the drinker's heart.
animal moving together at homes and wild,
birds flying, feeling the beauty of the sky.
plants growing preserving life,
people living preserving plants.
the beauty of nature cannot be fully introspected,
for the beauty of her mystery is fully perfected
by that devine hand who cared for us with love
there is no gift as nature,
for she's our rise and fall.
poem by Randy Micheal
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Sestina: Here in Katmandu
We have climbed the mountain.
There's nothing more to do.
It is terrible to come down
To the valley
Where, amidst many flowers,
One thinks of snow,
As formerly, amidst snow,
Climbing the mountain,
One thought of flowers,
Tremulous, ruddy with dew,
In the valley.
One caught their scent coming down.
It is difficult to adjust, once down,
To the absense of snow.
Clear days, from the valley,
One looks up at the mountain.
What else is there to do?
Prayer wheels, flowers!
Let the flowers
Fade, the prayer wheels run down.
What have they to do
With us who have stood atop the snow
Atop the mountain,
Flags seen from the valley?
It might be possible to live in the valley,
To bury oneself among flowers,
If one could forget the mountain,
How, never once looking down,
Stiff, blinded with snow,
One knew what to do.
Meanwhile it is not easy here in Katmandu,
Especially when to the valley
That wind which means snow
Elsewhere, but here means flowers,
Comes down,
As soon it must, from the mountain.
poem by Donald Justice
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Aqua Daughter
Drips of time are slowly dripping
An hourglass of mystic water
A tension in the droplets, quite so gripping
A serenade of tune
Came from the Mystic Aqua Daughter
Floating in the swaying blue
A laugh of surreal serenity
Vanished into submerged subdue
Into mystic blue infinity
An underwater wasteland
of sights so pleasantly disturbing
and the Aqua Daughter
swiftly into the misty blue, is blurring
Gliding through the dark blue shadow
Unknown dangers dwell beyond
But seldom is the Aqua Daughter
Intimidated and eager to respond
The brightness of a radiant lagoon is seen
The fiery radiance of the sunshine shore
And the Aqua Daughter dashes from under
Blasting through the silky blue
Tiny crystals of sun-filled colors, gracefully galore
Her silver hair with grace had swished
And her emerald eyes had brightened
As a surf of water, upon the shore unleashed,
her reverent beauty, deliriously sanctioned
awe and wonder of her presence
She swayed upon the sun-filled water
In the brightness of the day
And the pale, pink skin of the Aqua Daughter
Glistened and the sun reflected, as she lay
A crimson charm upon her breast
It sparkled upon the beaming sky
With such a treasure she was blessed
A token of the heavens, beyond her heart, so high
She sang in hypnotic trance
A serenade of pure seduction
Her voice was as soft as cotton
To hear it once, was an addiction
A sound of pure serenity, not soon forgotten
A smile of delighted pleasure
As the waves hit of her feet
She lay there on the blue in leisure
As the sun shone in deceit
For it would soon be setting
and the waters shall turn murk
A place not suited for the Aqua Daughter
The misty gales will soon prevail,
and peaceful waves shall go berserk
The Aqua Daughter dives again
Into the blackness of the deeps
Through the blue-black shadows
Her timeless waters, again she seeks
Her emerald eyes now shine in the darkness
Her crimson charm, bound to her breast
But a sad reef upon the water depth
Strikes the maiden in the darkness
And rips the charm off, of her chest
Unnoticed it floats toward the blackness
It shall reside there, forever more
It's Loss, shall cause the Aqua Daughter
A frenzy of despair and madness
She now sways in her timeless waters
Regret is weighing down her soul
Sadness shall not overcome the Aqua Daughter
For the sun will shine again,
In the lagoon she shall lie again
In the radiance of the sky
In that lagoon under the misty glen
where her heart goes up so high
Floating in the swaying blue
A laugh of surreal serenity
Lying in the submerged subdue
In the mystic blue infinity
Drips of time are slowly dripping
A cove of mystic water
Smiling as the waves stroked her presence, never sleeping
A serenade of tune
Came from the Mystic Aqua Daughter
poem by Kris Oberckal
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New Year
WHITE year, white year,
Muffled soft in snow,
A diamond spray whose gems are gone
Before their grace we know,
A crystal-coated spray whose hours
Melt when looked upon,
Hoarfrost stars and hoarfrost flowers,
White year!
Green year, green year,
Sweet with sun and showers,
A windblown spray whose blossoms bright
Are the seven-colored hours,
A dancing spray whose leaves are days,
A spray whose leaves delight
In azure gleam and silver haze,
Green year!
New Year, new year
From rosy leaf to gold,
A shining spray on the Tree of Time
Where myriad sprays unfold,
A spray so fair that God may see
And gather it, bloom and rime,
To deck the doors of Eternity,
New Year!
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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Introit : V. Litany Of Beauty
Joy, if the Soul or aught immortal be,
How may this Beauty know mortality?
O Beauty, perfect child of Light,
Sempiternal spirit of delight!
White and set with gold like the gold of the night,
The gold of the stars in quiet weather,--
White and shapely and pure!--
O lily-flower from stain secure,
With life and virginity dying together!
One lily liveth so,
Liveth for ever unstained, immortal, a mystic flower:
Perfectly wrought its frame,
Gold inwrought and eternal white,
White more white than cold of the snow,
For never, never, near it came,
Never shall come till the end of all,
Hurtful thing in wind or shower,
Worm or stain or blight;
But ever, ever, gently fall
The dews elysian of years that flow
Where it doth live secure
In flawless comeliness mature,
Golden and white and pure.
In the fair far-shining glow
Of eternal and holy Light.
Beauty of earthly things
Wrought by God and with hands of men!
Beauty of Nature and Art,
Fashioned anew for each Time brings,
For each new soul and living heart!
Beauty of Beauty that fills the ken
Till the soul is swooning, faint with delight!
Beauty of human form and voice,
Of eyes and ears and lips!--
O golden hair and brow of white!--
Wine of Beauty that whoso sips
Doth die to a spirit free, and rejoice,
Living with God and living with men,
Rapt rejoice in eternal bliss,
Raising his face to meet the kiss
Of the Beauty seraphic he sees above
In figure of his love.
O Beauty of Wisdom unsought
That in trance to poet is taught,
Uttered in secret lay,
Singing the heart from earth away,
Cunning the soul from care to lure,--
O mystic lily, from stain and death secure,
Till the end of all to stay!
O shapely flower that must for ever endure!
O voice of God that every heart must hear!
O hymn of purest souls that dost unsphere
The ravished soul that hears! O white, white gem!
O rose that dost the senses drown in bliss!
No thought shall stay the wing, or stem
The song or win the heart to miss
Thy love, thy joy, thy rapture divine!
O Beauty, Beauty, ever thine
The soul, the heart, the brain,
To own three in a loud perpetual strain,
Shriller and sweeter than song of wine,
Than song of sorrow or love or war!
Beauty of heaven and sun and day,
Beauty of water and frost and star,
Beauty of dusk-tide, narrowing, grey!
Beauty of silver light,
Beauty of purple night,
Beauty of solemn breath,
Beauty of closèd eye, and sleep, and death!
Beauty of dawn and dew,
Beauty of morning peace,
Ever ancient and ever new,
Ever renewed till waking cease
Or sleep for ever, when loud the angel's word
Through all the world is heard!
Beauty of brute and bird,
Beauty of earthly creatures
Whose hearts by the hand of God are stirred!
Beauty of the soul,
Beauty informing forms and features,
Fairest to God's eye,--
Beauty that cannot fade or die
Though atoms to ruin roll!
Beauty of blinded Trust,
Led by the hand of God
To a heaven where Cherub hath never trod!
Austere Beauty of Truth
Lighting the way of the just!
Splendid Beauty of Youth
Staying when Youth is sped,
Living when Life is dead,
Burning in funeral dust!
The glory of form doth pale and pall,
Beauty endures to the end of all.
poem by Thomas MacDonagh
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The Ghost Of The New World
'_There are no ghosts in America._'
There are no ghosts, you say,
To haunt her blaze of light;
No shadows in her day,
No phantoms in her night.
Columbus' tattered sail
Has passed beyond our hail.
What? On that magic coast,
Where Raleigh fought with fate,
Or where that Devon ghost
Unbarred the Golden Gate,
No dark, strange, ear-ringed men
Beat in from sea again?
No ghosts in Salem town
With silver buckled shoon?
No lovely witch to drown
Or burn beneath the moon?
Not even a whiff of tea,
On Boston's glimmering quay.
O, ghostly Spanish walls,
Where brown Franciscans glide,
Is there no voice that calls
Across the Great Divide,
To pilgrims on their way
Along the Santa Fe?
Then let your Pullman cars
Go roaring to the West,
Till, watched by lonelier stars,
The cactus lifts its crest.
There, on that painted plain,
One ghost will rise again.
Majestic and forlorn,
Wreck of a dying race,
The Red Man, half in scorn,
Shall raise his haughty face,
Inscrutable as the sky,
To watch our ghosts go by.
What? Is earth dreaming still?
Shall not the night disgorge
The ghosts of Bunker Hill
The ghosts of Valley Forge,
Or, England's mightiest son,
The ghost of Washington?
No ghosts where Lincoln fell?
No ghosts for seeing eyes?
I know an old cracked bell
Shall make ten million rise
When one immortal ghost
Calls to the slumbering host.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Danny Boy
The valley is hushed
The flowers are all dying
The meadow is white with the winter snow
Lord as I stand at the place where daddies lying
I say a silent prayer and somehow I know
He hears me there, though soft I tread above him
So now he sleeps in peace
His danny boys come home
................. the pipes the pipe are calling
From glen to glen and down the moutainside
The summers gone and all the leaves are falling
Its you, its you must go and I must bide
O come ye back when the sun shines on the meadow
Or when the valleys hushed and white with snow
For Ill be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh danny boy, oh danny boy I love you so
I close my eyes and still I can see
Him standing there on the hill
Tears filled his eyes as he waved goodbye to me
I cant forget, I guess I never will
He said, the valley is hushed
The flowers are all dying
The meadow is white with the winter snow
Come find the place
Where you know that Ill be lying
Say a silent prayer
So Ill know
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night and Day
I painted a picture of the day
Nature in her sweet tranquil
Her beauty was dazzling in every way
By her sun upon the hill!
I made her grasses the color green
Blue the color of the sea
In pink and red her flowers sheen
In brown, her rocks sit solitary
I painted a picture of the night
But nature has lost her spark
I colored her beauty in black and white
What glory is there in the dark?
I made her sky with dotted light
Of stars in their endless space
But there was no color to make her bright
But the moon with her golden face
I placed both pictures side by side
Media of dark and light
The night to nature, a time to hide
The day her sweet delight
Were i to vote between these two
I will give all to the day
I will paint in her a perfect view
I will have her all the way!
But wait! There is more than meet the eyes
For things are not all we see
For all stuffs are made of good and ills
Beyond our phylosophy
The day i painted with color bright
Is marred with worries and woes
And just a covering with colors and light
Of all beneath her throes.
Now, the night in her dreaded sight
When half the world is asleep
Is an illusion, a passage of day to night
Whereon i sleep free and deep
Free from all worldly pain indeed
That by day plagued every soul
And away from mortals lust and greed
Is a man's life long goal
I cannot choose one, the other bid farewell
In both, all things are one
So i kept the day, and the night as well
For both made me a man! !
poem by Okonkwo Osamedua. Allen
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What Else Can?
Beauty of Nature makes all love much;
Natural beauty has a special value ever;
Beauty of flower influences love sure....!
Beauty of sea, sky, misty mounts absorb all!
Cascading water fall of Niagara is lovely ever!
Peaceful snow mountains of Himalayas is blissful!
Height of Everest and depth of Pacific are exquisite!
Half setting sun and half rising moon are ever a wonder!
Seas and oceans with such beauty are wonder par excellence!
Colourful butterflies hopping from flower to flower
Surely reflect angels of heaven on earth forever!
Oyster with white pearl is flower unique of sea ever!
If such beautiful Nature does not kindle love, what else can?
If you fail to love such beauty, your life is a great waste sure!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Awaken to Beauty
Sun, sparkling on water
Rainbow in sky.
Full moon, shimmering over cities,
Beauty, beauty is by.
See through the black, the grey,
To colours all around,
Brightening your world, your life;
Beauty, beauty surrounds.
The new leaves on spring trees,
Buds on daffodils.
Flowers, trees bursting with glory,
Beauty, beauty fills.
Snow covering, crystal white,
Summer, green, grass.
Each season brings new pleasures,
Beauty, beauty lasts.
Stand still awhile and see
If you can discern
The loveliness in front of you,
Beauty at every turn.
Bring happiness to your senses,
Bear gladness into you,
Take sometime for yourself,
Beauty is there; stays true.
Late Autumn
October - and the skies are cool and gray
O'er stubbles emptied of their latest sheaf,
Bare meadow, and the slowly falling leaf.
The dignity of woods in rich decay
Accords full well with this majestic grief
That clothes our solemn purple hills to-day,
Whose afternoon is hush'd, and wintry brief
Only a robin sings from any spray.
And night sends up her pale cold moon, and spills
White mist around the hollows of the hills,
Phantoms of firth or lake; the peasant sees
His cot and stockyard, with the homestead trees,
Islanded; but no foolish terror thrills
His perfect harvesting; he sleeps at ease.
poem by William Allingham
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One night we walked
When it still was there
one night we walked
hand in hand on the white beach
at Uvongo
and there was no wind
on the lagoon
and the waves crashed from the sea
and I could hear the waterfall
splashing into the lagoon
and a great yellow moon
was magical in the sky
and somehow that world
was just made for you and me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Evening In June
(Van Morrison)
By the light of the moon
When the night holds the secrets
Of the sleepy lagoon
I'm contemplating moonlight
On the water
When I'm walking with you
On an evening in June
On an evening in June
It can get so sentimental
When I'm thinking of you
And I can't think of anything
Except being with you
When the summer is through
On an evening in June
On an evening in June
Well it lifts me up
When I'm talking to you
On an evening in June
When the flowers are in bloom
And the sky is so blue
Well there's so many things
Taking place
That it's hard to keep up with it all
Keep your eye on the ball
And to make the right call
When we're longing for fall
On this evening in June
[Instrumental break]
On an evening in June
Well it lifts me up
When I'm talking to you
On an evening in June
When the flowers are in bloom
And the sky is so blue
Well there's so many things taking place
That it's hard to keep up with it all
Keep your eye on the ball
And to make the right call
When we're longing for fall
On this evening in June
By the sleepy lagoon
On an evening in June
By the light of the moon
By the sleepy lagoon
On an evening in June
On an evening in June
By the sleepy lagoon
By the light of the moon
By the sleepy lagoon
On an evening in June
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hidden Valley Within The Bush
stepping into these lost ruins of gardens
a few fruit trees and flowers endure
where the old ghost homestead has fallen
lost in time decay life memories gone
who lived here where did their lives sped go
did their children move away to distant town
or city leaving this valley in serene dusk beauty
deer slip through bush to feed in still eternity
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Winter Comes
As the Angel of Winter comes down to earth
fairy white dust from the enchanted lands
cascades over the lily white hills as snow
With a snowdrift of whitest hair
she dons a silver mantle of dreams and snow
given to the fairy that wears the crown
Snowflakes swirl in the air
pristine and iridescent, sprinkled by magical hands
like an ice glazed crown upon a rose
With silvery white snow falling everywhere
I peek at the valley down below
where the beauty and magic of winter abounds...
I open my eyes and garner insight rare
listening to the moon sprites as their laughter sounds
lost for the moment in another time and place
Stars twinkling bright on this silent winter's night
caressing the landscape in a brilliance below
sending chills down my spine as I stop and stare
A glistening beauty that astounds
a deceptively deadly beauty, frozen, an innocent lure
floating down without a care
Shivering as the cold wind blows
Blurring together in a whirl of white as I stare
I hear a whisper...
Pray, cherish my memory when I am gone, don't let me
fade completely away...
poem by Sheri Hockman
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Phoenix Dawn
Apollo in the guise of a sun beam feathered phoenix rises from his grave,
The night is done and twilight over run by the rays of a new day dawning.
The green is restored as the valley lifts its weary head from dreamtime sanctuary.
The animals of the sun rejoice as the creatures of the night return to their homes.
The valley breathes as an emerald glow emits in radiance from the hills.
Everything around is still, all is settled and a natural silence hangs lightly upon the air.
Kissed by the wisdom of some starry eyed goddess I find myself at perfect rest.
The world is turning, all memories of the sickened rose are burning upon a funeral pyre.
The fires are red hot and smouldering away at the Earth. Shadows dance to unknown Tunes whilst I undress to know creation as my nature. A voice upon the wind
Whispers melodies upon a breeze that seems as ancient as the mountain range, still
They are fresh to the mind at ease and still I believe in the beauty of this land.
Still I believe that within the palms of our hands we conceal the key to the illumination
To this kingdom of dancing shadows, I believe we may cast new light upon any realm
Just as I believe that we may remain steady at the helm throughout the most tempestuous
Of storms. Through the art of meditation and through the turning of seven circles we may
Chance upon the final sphere and we may rise within this lifetime towards the glory of one, we may rise as we may balance in the sun and the moon in our stride, never hiding
From the tides of Fate that will sometimes crash upon our shorelines. I believe that in our given time we may perfect ourselves and be as one with the world in which we live.
poem by David Lacey
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O Beauty of Night...
As the golden sun goes to rest,
And the sky drape into black blanket,
Now take your turn
O beauty of Night – Moon.
Variety of moods makes me wonder,
Sometimes you look like circular disc,
At times spongy ball of cotton
O beauty of Night – Moon.
Eyes long to catch the glimpse,
Hands reach to hold you,
Lips hum song for you,
O beauty of Night – Moon.
Play not hide & seek,
Cover not behind the dark cloud
Unveil your beauty for me to gaze
O beauty of Night – Moon.
Cool gentle breeze blowing in silent night
Urge my heart to
Bathe in the white beam
O beauty of Night - Moon.
Reflection of my love I see in you
Fall down from the starry sky
To hold you in my arms
O beauty of Night – Moon.
poem by Geeta Nair
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Magical Nightmare
Travelers ride on the wise winds
the light bathed in by the faerie-kin
elves dancing in the moon's tender kiss
something humans most always miss
secret whispers in the trees
magical beings calling me
wizards with potion made of mystic flowers
mountains hold misty towers
i follow beautiful shadow maidens into the unknown world
flower petals fall softly on my midnight colored curls
poem by Suelynn Walters
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