The Forest Path
Oh, the charm of idle dreaming
Where the dappled shadows dance,
All the leafy aisles are teeming
With the lure of old romance!
Down into the forest dipping,
Deep and deeper as we go,
One might fancy dryads slipping
Where the white-stemmed birches grow.
Lurking gnome and freakish fairy
In the fern may peep and hide . . .
Sure their whispers low and airy
Ring us in on every side!
Saw you where the pines are rocking
Nymph's white shoulder as she ran?
Lo, that music faint and mocking,
Is it not a pipe of Pan?
Hear you that elusive laughter
Of the hidden waterfall?
Nay, a satyr speeding after
Ivy-crowned bacchanal.
Far and farther as we wander
Sweeter shall our roaming be,
Come, for dim and winsome yonder
Lies the path to Arcady!
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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The Piper
AGAIN I hear you piping, for I know the tune so well, -
You rouse the heart to wander and be free,
Tho' where you learned your music, not the God of song can tell,
For you pipe the open highway and the sea.
O piper, lightly footing, lightly piping on your way,
Tho' your music thrills and pierces far and near,
I tell you you had better pipe to someone else to-day,
For you cannot pipe my fancy from my dear.
You sound the note of travel through the hamlet and the town;
You would lure the holy angels from on high;
And not a man can hear you, but he throws the hammer down
And is off to see the countries ere he die.
But now no more I wander, now unchanging here I stay;
By my love, you find me safely sitting here:
And pipe you ne'er so sweetly, till you pipe the hills away,
You can never pipe my fancy from my dear.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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D. M. S. R.
Everybody, get on the floor
What the helld u come here 4?
Girl it aint no use, u might as well get loose
Work your body like a whore
Say everybody -- get on the beat
Were gonna show u mothers how 2 scream
People everywhere, loosen up your hair
Take a deeper breath and sing along with me, yes
Are u ready?
Everybody everybody ooh (ooh), alright (alright), dance music sex romance
Oh, everybody say ooh (ooh), alright (alright), dance music sex romance
Everybody (everybody) -- loosen up
Shake it like u just dont care (shake it like u just dont care)
Nevermind your friends, girl it aint no sin
2 strip right down 2 your underwear
I say everybody (everybody) -- screw the masses
We only want 2 have some fun (have some fun)
I say do whatever we want, wear lingerie 2 a restaurant
Police aint got no gun, u dont have 2 run
Everybody ooh (ooh), alright (alright), dance music sex romance
Everybody say ooh (ooh), alright (alright), dance music sex romance, oh
Everybody clap your hands now
All the white people clap your hands on the four now
One two three, one two three, one two three, one two three, listen 2 me
I dont wanna be a poet
cuz I dont wanna blow it
I dont care 2 win awards
All I wanna do is dance
Play music sex romance
And try my best 2 never get bored
If u feel all right lemme hear u scream
Somebody say dance (dance), music (music),
Sex (sex), romance (romance)
Somebody say dance (dance), music (music),
Sex (sex), romance (romance)
Everybody say dance (dance), music (music),
Sex (sex), romance (romance)
Everybody say dance (dance), music (music),
Oh say sex (sex), romance (romance)
Everybody dance (dance), music (music),
Everybody say sex (sex), romance (romance) ((d.m.s.r.))
Everybody dance (dance), music (music),
Sex(sex), romance (romance) ((d.m.s.r.))
Alright
Jamie starrs a thief
Its time 2 fix your clock
Vanity 6 is so sweet
No u can all take a bite of my purple rock, can we stop?
Are u ready? (hey!)
Everybody sing this song now, ooh (ooh), alright (alright),
Dance music sex romance
Everybody sing it, ooh (ooh), alright (alright),
Dance music sex romance
Negroes say ooh (ooh), alright (alright),
Dance music sex romance
Puerto ricans say it, ooh (ooh), alright (alright),
Dance music sex romance
Everybody sing this song, ooh (ooh), alright (alright),
Dance music sex romance
All the white people in the house say ooh (ooh), alright (alright),
Dance music sex romance
Japanese say 1 time ooh (ooh), alright (alright),
Dance music sex romance
Everybody sing together, say ooh (ooh), alright (alright),
Dance music sex romance
Somebody call the police (somebody call the police!)
Say ooh, ooh, yeah (help me! someone please help me! somebody help me)
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epilogue II
When dusk falls cool as a rained-on rose,
And a tawny tower the twilight shows,
With the crescent moon, the silver moon, the curved new moon in a space that glows,
A turret window that grows a-light;
There is a path that my Fancy knows,
A glimmering, shimmering path of night,
That far as the Land of Faery goes.
II.
And I follow the path, as Fancy leads,
Over the mountains, into the meads,
Where the firefly cities, the glowworm cities, the fairy cities are strung like beads,
Each city a twinkling star:
And I live a life of valorous deeds,
And march with the Fairy King to war,
And ride with his knights on milk-white steeds.
III.
Or it's there in the whirl of their life I sit,
Or dance in their houses with starlight lit,
Their blossom houses, their flower houses, their elfin houses, of fern-leaves knit,
With fronded spires and domes:
And there it is that my lost dreams flit,
And the ghost of my childhood, smiling, roams
With the fairy children so dear to it.
IV.
And it's there I hear that they all come true,
The fairy-stories, whatever they do
Elf and goblin, dear elf and goblin, loved elf and goblin and all the crew
Of witch and wizard and gnome and fay,
And prince and princess, that wander through
The storybooks we have put away,
The fairytales that we loved and knew.
V.
The face of Adventure lures you there,
And the eyes of Danger bid you dare,
While ever the bugles, the silver bugles, the far-off bugles of Elfland blare,
The fairy trumpets to battle blow;
And you feel their thrill in your heart and hair,
And you fain would follow and mount and go
And march with the Fairies anywhere.
VI.
And she she rides at your side again,
Your little sweetheart whose age is ten:
She is the princess, the fairy princess, the princess fair that you worshipped when
You were a prince in a fairytale;
And you do great deeds as you did them then,
With your magic spear, and enchanted mail,
Braving the dragon in his den.
VII.
And you ask again, 'Oh, where shall we ride,
Now that the monster is slain, my bride?'
'Back to the cities, the firefly cities, the glowworm cities where we can hide,
The beautiful cities of Faeryland.
And the light of my eyes shall be your guide,
The light of my eyes and my snow-white hand
And there forever we two will abide.'
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Forest Sprite III
'Twas a night of full moon splendor
I lay restless in my bed,
A haunting, magic melody
Danced rainbows in my head;
Sleep was not an option,
My mind now full awake -
I grabbed my coat and lantern
Thought a midnight walk I'd take;
I wandered toward the wooded path,
The night was full of sound,
The moon cast eerie shadows
On the dampened leaf strewn ground;
Now entering the forest dark
I thought I saw a light
Away off in the distance
In the misty woodland night;
My ears detected laughter
And music crystal clear -
A most enchanting fairy ring
From nowhere did appear;
Tiny dancing fairies spun
In circles round and round -
Their tiny wings did flutter
As they hovered o'er the ground;
Rainbow colored forest sprites
Did chase each other after,
Then tumble down upon the ground
In giggling fits of laughter;
As I moved to better see
I stepped upon a branch -
Then instantly the fairy sprites
Did freeze within their dance;
Then quickly in a blinking eye
The ring did twirl and scatter -
Leaving golden sparkles in
A mist of fairy matter;
Once again the midnight sounds
Returned as if on cue,
The fairy ring had disappeared
To where? I have no clue;
Slowly now I wander back
Into my lucid world,
I'd stepped into a magic land -
My mind had been unfurled;
Yet still I question what I saw,
And wonder at its meaning -
Had I crossed into another realm,
Or was I merely dreaming?
The Wood Pool
Here is a voice that soundeth low and far
And lyricvoice of wind among the pines,
Where the untroubled, glimmering waters are,
And sunlight seldom shines.
Elusive shadows linger shyly here,
And wood-flowers blow, like pale, sweet spirit-bloom,
And white, slim birches whisper, mirrored clear
In the pool's lucent gloom.
Here Pan might pipe, or wandering dryad kneel
To view her loveliness beside the brim,
Or laughing wood-nymphs from the byways steal
To dance around its rim.
'Tis such a witching spot as might beseem
A seeker for young friendship's trysting place,
Or lover yielding to the immortal dream
Of one beloved face.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Ode To Psyche
O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung
By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,
And pardon that thy secrets should be sung
Even into thine own soft-conched ear:
Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I see
The winged Psyche with awaken'd eyes?
I wander'd in a forest thoughtlessly,
And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise,
Saw two fair creatures, couched side by side
In deepest grass, beneath the whisp'ring roof
Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran
A brooklet, scarce espied:
Mid hush'd, cool-rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed,
Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian,
They lay calm-breathing, on the bedded grass;
Their arms embraced, and their pinions too;
Their lips touch'd not, but had not bade adieu,
As if disjoined by soft-handed slumber,
And ready still past kisses to outnumber
At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love:
The winged boy I knew;
But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove?
His Psyche true!
O latest born and loveliest vision far
Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy!
Fairer than Ph{oe}be's sapphire-region'd star,
Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky;
Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,
Nor altar heap'd with flowers;
Nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan
Upon the midnight hours;
No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet
From chain-swung censer teeming;
No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat
Of pale-mouth'd prophet dreaming.
O brightest! though too late for antique vows,
Too, too late for the fond believing lyre,
When holy were the haunted forest boughs,
Holy the air, the water, and the fire;
Yet even in these days so far retir'd
From happy pieties, thy lucent fans,
Fluttering among the faint Olympians,
I see, and sing, by my own eyes inspir'd.
So let me be thy choir, and make a moan
Upon the midnight hours;
Thy voice, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet
From swinged censer teeming;
Thy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat
Of pale-mouth'd prophet dreaming.
Yes, I will be thy priest, and build a fane
In some untrodden region of my mind,
Where branched thoughts, new grown with pleasant pain,
Instead of pines shall murmur in the wind:
Far, far around shall those dark-cluster'd trees
Fledge the wild-ridged mountains steep by steep;
And there by zephyrs, streams, and birds, and bees,
The moss-lain Dryads shall be lull'd to sleep;
And in the midst of this wide quietness
A rosy sanctuary will I dress
With the wreath'd trellis of a working brain,
With buds, and bells, and stars without a name,
With all the gardener Fancy e'er could feign,
Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same:
And there shall be for thee all soft delight
That shadowy thought can win,
A bright torch, and a casement ope at night,
To let the warm Love in!
poem by John Keats
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Synnove's Song
Have thanks for all from our childhood's day,
Our play together in woodland roaming.
I thought that play would go on for aye,
Though life should pass to its gloaming.
I thought that play would go on for aye,
From bowers leading of leafy birches
To where the Solbakke houses lay,
And where the red-painted church is.
I sat and waited through evenings long
And scanned the ridge with the spruces yonder;
But darkening mountains made shadows throng,
And you the way did not wander.
I sat and waited with scarce a doubt:
He'll dare the way when the sun's descended.
The light shone fainter, was nearly out,
The day in darkness had ended.
My weary eye is so wont to gaze,
To turn its look it is slow in learning;
No other landmark it seeks, nor strays,
Beneath the brow sorely burning.
They name a place where I help may find,
And fain to Fagerli church would guide me;
But try not thither to move my mind;
He sits there ever beside me.
--But good it is, that full well I know,
Who placed the houses both here and yonder,
Then cut a way through the woods so low
And let my eye on it wander.
But good it is that full well I know,
Who built the church and to pray invited,
And made them meeting in pairs to go
Before the altar united.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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The Forest
The edge of the forest stands
Against the grey, white sky
Like a row of colourless headstones
Stripped trees emerge
Tombs of a bleak winter
Silhouetted in the dull light
Against the imaginings of man
No light or life escapes
The depths of the forest
The thoughts which swell there
Creates in them a fear
Some great sadness hidden
Branches reach out like clawed hands
Pointing into a nothingness
Or grabbing, pulling inwards
To the shadows and the darkness
Of the deathly forest floor
The silence that awaits
Far beneath the grey, white sky
The morning becomes forgotten
Beyond the edge of the forest
Where shadows hide
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Hear The Music Of The Pines
Hear the music of the pines—
Murmuring through the climbing vines,
Sighing through the tree tops high,
Floating upward to the sky,
Then descending where I lie—
Hear the music of the pines!
What sweet thoughts the music brings,
What new gladness from it springs—
As reclining, in a dream,
Watch I, listless, a sunbeam
Dancing on the silvery stream—
What sweet thoughts the music brings!
Hear the music of the pines!
How it 'round my fancy twines—
While fragrances of flowers fill
All the pulses of my will
As I, lingering, linger still—
Hear the music of the pines!
poem by Timothy Thomas Fortune
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Jacky Frost
When Summers blue sky fades to grey
And swiftly ends the shortening day,
When coldness takes the flowers away
Ill dance the dance of winter!
Over hedges see me trip
To frost the leaf and haw and hip,
To petrify each sparkling drip
And dance the dance of winter.
Ill fade the roses red to white,
Redress the landscape in one night!
Make the cobwebs crisp and white
And herald in the winter.
I’ll tiptoe over lawns and trees
The water pipe I soon shall freeze,
Ill bring transport to its knees!
And turn all things to winter
In leafy Hollows, see me hide,
I herald in the Christmas tide
Where man keeps snug by fires inside
While outside, I am winter.
poem by Lucy Burrow
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At Nightfall
The dark is coming o'er the world, my playmate,
And the fields where poplars stand are very still,
All our groves of green delight have been invaded,
There are voices quite unknown upon the hill;
The wind has grown too weary for a comrade,
It is keening in the rushes spent and low,
Let us join our hands and hasten very softly
To the little, olden, friendly path we know.
The stars are laughing at us, O, my playmate,
Very, very far away in lonely skies,
The trees that were our friends are strangers to us,
And the fern is full of whispers and of sighs.
The sounds we hear are not what we may share in,
We may not linger where the white moths roam,
We must hasten yet more swiftly, little playmate,
To the house among the pines that is our home.
The dark is creeping closer yet, my playmate,
And the woods seem crowding nearer as we go,
Oh, how very, very bold have grown the shadows,
They may touch us as they flutter to and fro!
The silence is too dreadful for our laughter,
The night is very full of strange alarms,
But it cannot hurt us now, O, little playmate,
One more step and we are safe in mother's arms!
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Water Lilies
Where the water-lilies go
To and fro,
Rocking in the ripples of the water,
Lazy on a leaf lies the Lake King's daugher,
And the faint winds shake her.
Who will come and take her?
I will! I will!
Keep still! Keep still!
Sleeping on a leaf lies the Lake King's daughter. . . .
Then the wind comes skipping
To the lilies on the water;
And the kind winds wake her.
Now who will take her?
With a laugh she is slipping
Through the lilies on the water.
Wait! Wait!
Too late, too late!
Only the water-lilies go
To and fro,
Dipping, dipping,
To the ripples of the water.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Shadows On Your Side
Shackled and raised for a shining crowd,
They want you to speak but the music is louder than -
All of their roar, with the heat of the planets core, but..
The shadows are on your side,
As soon as the lights go down.
In the darkest place you can find,
You belong to the hands of the night..
Promises made with a distant friend
Truth should be known it can only bend -
To a tune of its own, hey youll never hear that voice again.
Scandal in white on a tangled vine
With everybody to say that youre having the time of your life -
When your life is on the slide, but..
(chorus) (chorus)
-
(oh-ohh...oh-oh-oh)
(oh-ohh...oh-oh-oh)
Spinning a compass to choose your way
You can run, you can dive, you can stand and you can soar..
Whichever way you can be sure, that...
(chorus) (chorus)
Shadows on your side
The shadows are on your side
Shadows on your side
The shadows are on your side
Shadows on your side
The shadows are on your side
Shadows on..
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Forests Dance Before Me
When forests of romance dance before me
My sense of pleasure, explores with fervour
'Tis my instinct to explore a forest.........dark
Seek its sweet treasured path and endulge
Willow's tree unfurls, her tear-dropp branches
Adorning her majesty....with graceful spread
Embracing all that lies.......before my senses
Ensconced in the smooth of her velvet drape
When leaves befall their shedding....over me
Blanketing my fancy like sheaths of fine linen
Suddenly you appear and i am lost within you
Love, you are th' branches...of my forest deep
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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The Ring
I discovered a perfect circle of mushrooms,
some believe this to be a fairy ring.
I decided to watch the ring from some distance
on the off chance I might see something.
After an hour or so of waiting
two butterflies flew around the ring.
A circle of tiny golden stars lit up the area
and I could hear soft voices sing.
Eight fairies appeared sitting on the mushrooms,
it was they who were singing after all.
They began to dance around the ring of mushrooms,
which made them grow incredibly tall.
The silver fairy saw me watching
and flew to the centre of the ring.
She twisted and turned and flew above the circle,
sprinkling fairy dust over everything.
The other fairies turned to face me
and put out their fairy tongues.
They continued to dance in the air regardless,
then faded with the sound of their song.
poem by Orlando Belo
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(Waiting For) The Ghost Train
A straw headed woman, and a barrel chested man,
A pocket full of posies with a hat brim full of sand,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
A dog chasing the tumbleweeds, across the sandy floor,
That drift along the platform, through the ticket office door,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
But don't tell me there's nothing coming, you don't fool me,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
The station master's writing with a piece of orange chalk,
A hundred cancellations, still no one wants to walk,
Keep the hungry children from the skeletons in the back,
Paid to keep an eye out for the gipsy caravan,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ghost Train
A straw headed woman, and a barrel chested man,
A pocket full of posies with a hat brim full of sand,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
A dog chasing the tumbleweeds, across the sandy floor,
That drift along the platform, through the ticket office door,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
But don't tell me there's nothing coming, you don't fool me,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
The station master's writing with a piece of orange chalk,
A hundred cancellations, still no one wants to walk,
Keep the hungry children from the skeletons in the back,
Paid to keep an eye out for the gipsy caravan,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide...
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fairy Fellers Master-stroke
Hes a fairy feller
The fairy folk have gathered round the new moon shine
To see the feller crack a nut at nights noon time
To swing his ace he swears, as it climbs he dares
To deliver...
The master-stroke
Ploughman, waggoner will, and types
Politician with senatorial pope - hes a dilly-dally-o
Pedagogue squinting, wears a frown
And a satyr peers under ladys gown, dirty fellow
What a dirty laddio
Tatterdemalion and a junketer
Theres a thief and a dragonfly trumpeter - hes my hero
Fairy dandy tickling the fancy of his lady friend
The nymph in yellow can we see the master-stroke
What a quaere fellow
Soldier, sailor, tinker, tailor, ploughboy
Waiting to hear the sound
And the arch-magician presides
He is the leader
Oberon and titania watched by a harridan
Mab is the queen and theres a good apothecary-man
Come to say hello
Fairy dandy tickling the fancy of his lady friend
The nymph in yellow
What a quaere fellow
The ostler stares with hands on his knees
Come on mr. feller, crack it open if you please
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Spring groves they are to be found
Ponder the perfection that resides within reflection.
Wander is wonder. In Spring groves they are to be found.
The Good Folk, by twilight, as by the oak they dance.
Dressed for procession. They dance, oh joy, to such merry
A tune it doth make my heart wither in weeping.
As dreaming, as asleep
Within the Oak, dryads ancient joke
As outside their life is to be ended
Upon the turning of a leaf.
Within the hedgerow await the
Children Impish of the forest.
Awaiting to test those who seek to rest.
poem by David Lacey
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Death
NEVER again:
No child shall stir the inmost heart of her
And teach her heaven by that first faint stir;
No little lips shall lie against her breast
Save the cold lips that now lie there at rest;
No little voice shall rouse her from her sleep
And bid her wake to pain:
Her sleep is calm and deep,
Call not! refrain.
Close in her arm
As though even death drew back before the face
Of Motherhood in this white stilly place,
The gathered bud lies waxen white and cold,
As ever a flower your winter gardens hold.
She bore the pain, she never wore the crown,
She worked the bitter charm,
But all she won thereby is here laid down
Renounced--for good or harm.
Dream? Feed your soul
With dreams, while we must starve our hearts on clay,
Dream of a glorious white-winged sun-crowned day
When you shall see her once more face to face
Beside Christ's Mother in the blessed place!
But while you dream, they carry her from here,
The black bells toll and toll.
Oh God! if only she cannot see or hear,
Not hear those ghoul-like bells that crowd so near,
Not see that cold clay hole.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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