Chillingham
I
Through the sunny garden
The humming bees are still;
The fir climbs the heather,
The heather climbs the hill.
The low clouds have riven
A little rift through.
The hill climbs to heaven,
Far away and blue.
II
O the high valley, the little low hill,
And the cornfield over the sea,
The wind that rages and then lies still,
And the clouds that rest and flee!
O the gray island in the rainbow haze,
And the long thin spits of land,
The roughening pastures and the stony ways,
And the golden flash of the sand!
O the red heather on the moss-wrought rock,
And the fir-tree stiff and straight,
The shaggy old sheep-dog barking at the flock,
And the rotten old five-barred gate!
O the brown bracken, the blackberry bough,
The scent of the gorse in the air!
I shall love them ever as I love them now,
I shall weary in Heaven to be there!
III
Strike, Life, a happy hour, and let me live
But in that grace!
I shall have gathered all the world can give,
Unending Time and Space!
Bring light and air--the thin and shining air
Of the North land,
The light that falls on tower and garden there,
Close to the gold sea-sand.
Bring flowers, the latest colours of the earth,
Ere nun-like frost
Lay her hard hand upon this rainbow mirth,
With twinkling emerald crossed.
The white star of the traveller's joy, the deep
Empurpled rays that hide the smoky stone,
The dahlia rooted in Egyptian sleep,
The last frail rose alone.
Let music whisper from a casement set
By them of old,
Where the light smell of lavender may yet
Rise from the soft loose mould.
Then shall I know, with eyes and ears awake,
Not in bright gleams,
The joy my Heavenly Father joys to make
For men who grieve, in dreams!
poem by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
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Related quotes
Lavender Hill
I want to walk eternity,
In through the land of make believe.
And watch the clouds roll over me,
And let the sun shine down on me.
The only place that I wanna be,
Lavender hill for me.
Wish I could live on sugar and milk,
Then I could live on lavender hill.
Then I could raise my head to the sky,
And let the sun saturate me with love.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill,
Everybody loves lavender hill.
Even the bird that sits in the tree,
Seems to sing sweet melodies.
Even the breeze is whispering,
Lavender hill for me.
While people eat their biscuits with tea,
They dream of daffodils that sway in the breeze.
And every sunday afternoon,
Tidy ladies shine their shoes.
And every little lady dreams,
Lavender memories.
Lavender hill for me.
Lavender hill for me.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dream Of Gortavehy
A bright and sunny Summer's day the lark pipes in the sky
And the fragrant scent of flowering gorse and the hill sheep bleating nigh
I lay here on a bracken patch by sunlit mountain lake
In dreamy mood the mood we know when we lay half awake.
To get a break from cares of life the need to be alone
And where better than a place like this by bracken hill of stone
And Gortavehy beautiful on sunny Summer's day
But every day not warm in June and June has a brief stay.
The sunshine it feels wonderful I lay on bracken ground
And I the only person here there's no one else around
And peace so welcome to the soul it gently comes to me
And sheep are bleating on the hill and larks pipe merrily.
The currawongs are calling in the wood across the way
And white backed magpie piping on high branch of mountain gray
And rain is gently falling on a Sherbrooke Winter's day
And I'd been to Gortavehy a half a World away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Colour of Warmth
You cannot spin the suns rays
For they are golden light
Clothing earth with warmth
Encompassing, coloured green
A rainbow of colour so bright
Growing the flowers, the smell
Seeing the sweet taste
Tasting the colours on your fingers
Bright as a bird in flight
White as a gulls feathered wings
Blue as the flooding tides
Gray as the ebbing, yellow as the sand
You cannot spin the suns rays
For they are golden light
Clothing the earth with warmth
A rainbow colour of sight.
poem by Andrew Shiston
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Breton Afternoon
Here, where the breath of the scented-gorse floats through the
sun-stained air,
On a steep hill-side, on a grassy ledge, I have lain hours long
and heard
Only the faint breeze pass in a whisper like a prayer,
And the river ripple by and the distant call of a bird.
On the lone hill-side, in the gold sunshine, I will hush me and
repose,
And the world fades into a dream and a spell is cast on me;
_And what was all the strife about, for the myrtle or the rose,
And why have I wept for a white girl's paleness passing ivory!_
Out of the tumult of angry tongues, in a land alone, apart,
In a perfumed dream-land set betwixt the bounds of life and death,
Here will I lie while the clouds fly by and delve an hole where my
heart
May sleep deep down with the gorse above and red, red earth beneath.
Sleep and be quiet for an afternoon, till the rose-white angelus
Softly steals my way from the village under the hill:
_Mother of God, O Misericord, look down in pity on us,
The weak and blind who stand in our light and wreak ourselves such ill_.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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To Thomas Butts
TO my friend Butts I write
My first vision of light,
On the yellow sands sitting.
The sun was emitting
His glorious beams
From Heaven’s high streams.
Over sea, over land,
My eyes did expand
Into regions of air,
Away from all care;
Into regions of fire,
Remote from desire;
The light of the morning
Heaven’s mountains adorning:
In particles bright,
The jewels of light
Distinct shone and clear.
Amaz’d and in fear
I each particle gazèd,
Astonish’d, amazèd;
For each was a Man
Human-form’d. Swift I ran,
For they beckon’d to me,
Remote by the sea,
Saying: ‘Each grain of sand,
Every stone on the land,
Each rock and each hill,
Each fountain and rill,
Each herb and each tree,
Mountain, hill, earth, and sea,
Cloud, meteor, and star,
Are men seen afar.’
I stood in the streams
Of Heaven’s bright beams,
And saw Felpham sweet
Beneath my bright feet,
In soft Female charms;
And in her fair arms
My Shadow I knew,
And my wife’s Shadow too,
And my sister, and friend.
We like infants descend
In our Shadows on earth,
Like a weak mortal birth.
My eyes, more and more,
Like a sea without shore,
Continue expanding,
The Heavens commanding;
Till the jewels of light,
Heavenly men beaming bright,
Appear’d as One Man,
Who complacent began
My limbs to enfold
In His beams of bright gold;
Like dross purg’d away
All my mire and my clay.
Soft consum’d in delight,
In His bosom sun-bright
I remain’d. Soft He smil’d,
And I heard His voice mild,
Saying: ‘This is My fold,
O thou ram horn’d with gold,
Who awakest from sleep
On the sides of the deep.
On the mountains around
The roarings resound
Of the lion and wolf,
The loud sea, and deep gulf.
These are guards of My fold,
O thou ram horn’d with gold!’
And the voice faded mild;
I remain’d as a child;
All I ever had known
Before me bright shone:
I saw you and your wife
By the fountains of life.
Such the vision to me
Appear’d on the sea.
poem by William Blake
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The Lost Embassy
THE lilies lean to the white, white rose,
The sweet limes send to the blossomed trees,
Soft kisses borne by the golden bees--
And all the world is alive, awake,
And glad to the heart for the summer's sake.
From her tower window the Princess leant,
Where the white light butterflies came and went;
She dropped soft kisses by twos and threes:
'White butterflies mine, will you carry these
To my Prince in prison? for they, who knows,
May break the spell that has held him close
And wake him and win him to stand up free
And laugh--in the sun--with me!'
White lilies, gold in the golden sun,
White Princess, gold in your golden gown--
Far off lies the sad, enchanted town!
Bright wings, light wings, white wings that tire,
Though they carry the flower of the heart's desire--
Will you trust to these, too white, too slight
To bring back the fruit of heart's delight?
All round and about the spell-bound town
The ways are dusty, the woods are brown;
There are no green coverts, no welcoming flowers
For little weary butterfly wings,
No dew, no lilies, no glad live things.
'Neath the sky of steel and the brazen sun
White wings, kiss-laden, dropped one by one:
By twos and threes they dropped by the way,
And only one reached the grim, gray tower
Where, witched from his kingdom, the poor Prince lay--
One poor tired butterfly, smirched and gray
With the dust of the town and the weary way,
And it lit on the Prince's hand and died.
'Bright wings, light wings, white wings,' he cried
'You, only you, might have lived and borne
My prayer to my love in her tower forlorn,
And brought back the kiss that could set me free--
She might have broken the spell that lies
On my foolish heart and my foolish eyes--
But no live butterflies come my way!'
The winds are cold and the skies are gray,
And all the lilies died yesterday;
The Princess leans from her steel-wrought tower
To watch for her butterflies hour by hour.
Poor little Princess, you watch in vain!
Butterflies die where the green wood browns,
And kisses sent to enchanted towns
Never come home again.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Year of the Rose
From the depths of the green garden-closes
Where the summer in darkness dozes
Till autumn pluck from his hand
An hour-glass that holds not a sand;
From the maze that a flower-belt encloses
To the stones and sea-grass on the strand
How red was the reign of the roses
Over the rose-crowned land!
The year of the rose is brief;
From the first blade blown to the sheaf,
From the thin green leaf to the gold,
It has time to be sweet and grow old,
To triumph and leave not a leaf
For witness in winter's sight
How lovers once in the light
Would mix their breath with its breath,
And its spirit was quenched not of night,
As love is subdued not of death.
In the red-rose land not a mile
Of the meadows from stile to stile,
Of the valleys from stream to stream,
But the air was a long sweet dream
And the earth was a sweet wide smile
Red-mouthed of a goddess, returned
From the sea which had borne her and burned,
That with one swift smile of her mouth
Looked full on the north as it yearned,
And the north was more than the south.
For the north, when winter was long,
In his heart had made him a song,
And clothed it with wings of desire,
And shod it with shoon as of fire,
To carry the tale of his wrong
To the south-west wind by the sea,
That none might bear it but he
To the ear of the goddess unknown
Who waits till her time shall be
To take the world for a throne.
In the earth beneath, and above
In the heaven where her name is love,
She warms with light from her eyes
The seasons of life as they rise,
And her eyes are as eyes of a dove,
But the wings that lift her and bear
As an eagle's, and all her hair
As fire by the wind's breath curled,
And her passage is song through the air,
And her presence is spring through the world.
So turned she northward and came,
And the white-thorn land was aflame
With the fires that were shed from her feet,
That the north, by her love made sweet,
Should be called by a rose-red name;
And a murmur was heard as of doves,
And a music beginning of loves
In the light that the roses made,
Such light as the music loves,
The music of man with maid.
But the days drop one upon one,
And a chill soft wind is begun
In the heart of the rose-red maze
That weeps for the roseleaf days
And the reign of the rose undone
That ruled so long in the light,
And by spirit, and not by sight,
Through the darkness thrilled with its breath,
Still ruled in the viewless night,
As love might rule over death.
The time of lovers is brief;
From the fair first joy to the grief
That tells when love is grown old,
From the warm wild kiss to the cold,
From the red to the white-rose leaf,
They have but a season to seem
As rose-leaves lost on a stream
That part not and pass not apart
As a spirit from dream to dream,
As a sorrow from heart to heart.
From the bloom and the gloom that encloses
The death-bed of Love where he dozes
Till a relic be left not of sand
To the hour-glass that breaks in his hand;
From the change in the grey garden-closes
To the last stray grass of the strand,
A rain and ruin of roses
Over the red-rose land.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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After Sunset
REST--rest--four little letters, one short word,
Enfolding an infinitude of bliss--
Rest is upon the earth. The heavy clouds
Hang poised in silent ether, motionless,
Seeking nor sun nor breeze. No restless star
Thrills the sky's gray-robed breast with pulsing rays,
The night's heart has throbbed out.
No grass blade stirs,
No downy-wingèd moth comes flittering by
Caught by the light--Thank God, there is no light,
No open-eyed, loud-voiced, quick motioned light,
Nothing but gloom and rest.
A row of trees
Along the hill horizon, westward, stands
All black and still, as if it were a rank
Of fallen angels, melancholy met
Before the amber gate of Paradise--
The bright shut gate, whose everlasting smile
Deadens despair to calm.
O, better far
Better than bliss is rest! If suddenly
Those burnished doors of molten gold, steel-barred,
Which the sun closed behind him as he went
Into his bridal chamber--were to burst
Asunder with a clang, and in a breath
God's mysteries were revealed--His kingdom came--
The multitudes of heavenly messengers
Hastening throughout all space--the thunder quire
Of praise--the obedient lightnings' lambent gleam
Around the unseen Throne--should I not sink
Crushed by the weight of such beatitudes,
Crying, 'Rest, only rest, thou merciful God!
Hide me within the hollow of Thy hand
In some dark corner of the universe,
Thy bright, full, busy universe, that blinds,
Deafens, and tortures--Give me only rest!'
O for a soul-sleep, long and deep and still!
To lie down quiet after the weary day,
Dropping all pleasant flowers from the numbed hands,
Bidding good-night to all companions dear,
Drawing the curtains on this darkened world,
Closing the eyes, and with a patient sigh
Murmuring 'Our Father'--fall on sleep, till dawn!
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Rainbow Hues
Rainbow hues
Rainbow bright
Rainbow shines
And gives out light
That colour my life
With its love
Just like blessings
Sent from above
I love to see
This shining bright
Joys twinkling
And spreading light
I wish my God
I wih from my heart
To show me always
A new start
When life is losing
Its glory and charm
And I feel as if
Troubles and harm
Will take over
Bright sunshine
And will dim
All this light's wine
I wish please God
Always send this bright
Shining rainbow hue
To brighten life's light.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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A Blue Rose!
Genetically modified flower blue rose is unique!
Rose colour gives hope of future by its very look;
Red rose is unique among flowers as it is queen
In the flower world nobody can deny having it!
Yellow rose shines bright in the long green garden
Full of many trees and other flower plants broad!
Pink rose flowers are many everywhere as border
Mainly in the botanical garden of hill stations here!
Blue rose, a new addition in the flower kingdom
Among lavender, blue bells and rare kurinjis of
Light blue, violet and ink blue colours everywhere
Stands majestic and having healing touch to all!
Rose is rose by whatever name it is called and also
Rose is rose by whatever colour it is produced ever!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Hypotheses Hypochondriacae
And should she die, her grave should be
Upon the bare top of a sunny hill,
Among the moorlands of her own fair land,
Amid a ring of old and moss-grown stones
In gorse and heather all embosomed.
There should be no tall stone, no marble tomb
Above her gentle corse;-the ponderous pile
Would press too rudely on those fairy limbs.
The turf should lightly he, that marked her home.
A sacred spot it would be-every bird
That came to watch her lone grave should be holy.
The deer should browse around her undisturbed;
The whin bird by, her lonely nest should build
All fearless; for in life she loved to see
Happiness in all things-
And we would come on summer days
When all around was bright, and set us down
And think of all that lay beneath that turf
On which the heedless moor-bird sits, and whistles
His long, shrill, painful song, as though he plained
For her that loved him and his pleasant hills;
And we would dream again of bygone days
Until our eyes should swell with natural tears
For brilliant hopes-all faded into air!
As, on the sands of Irak, near approach
Destroys the traveller's vision of still lakes,
And goodly streams reed-clad, and meadows green;
And leaves behind the drear reality
Of shadeless, same, yet ever-changing sand!
And when the sullen clouds rose thick on high
Mountains on mountains rolling-and dark mist
Wrapped itself round the hill-tops like a shroud,
When on her grave swept by the moaning wind
Bending the heather-bells-then would I come
And watch by her, in silent loneliness,
And smile upon the storm-as knowing well
The lightning's flash would surely turn aside,
Nor mar the lowly mound, where peaceful sleeps
All that gave life and love to one fond heart!
I talk of things that are not; and if prayers
By night and day availed from my weak lips,
Then should they never be! till I was gone,
Before the friends I loved, to my long home.
Oh pardon me, if e'er I say too much; my mind
Too often strangely turns to ribald mirth,
As though I had no doubt nor hope beyond-
Or brooding melancholy cloys my soul
With thoughts of days misspent, of wasted time
And bitter feelings swallowed up in jests.
Then strange and fearful thoughts flit o'er my brain
By indistinctness made more terrible,
And incubi mock at me with fierce eyes
Upon my couch: and visions, crude and dire,
Of planets, suns, millions of miles, infinity,
Space, time, thought, being, blank nonentity,
Things incorporeal, fancies of the brain,
Seen, heard, as though they were material,
All mixed in sickening mazes, trouble me,
And lead my soul away from earth and heaven
Until I doubt whether I be or not!
And then I see all frightful shapes-lank ghosts,
Hydras, chimeras, krakens, wastes of sand,
Herbless and void of living voice-tall mountains
Cleaving the skies with height immeasurable,
On which perchance I climb for infinite years; broad seas,
Studded with islands numberless, that stretch
Beyond the regions of the sun, and fade
Away in distance vast, or dreary clouds,
Cold, dark, and watery, where wander I for ever!
Or space of ether, where I hang for aye!
A speck, an atom-inconsumable-
Immortal, hopeless, voiceless, powerless!
And oft I fancy, I am weak and old,
And all who loved me, one by one, are dead,
And I am left alone-and cannot die!
Surely there is no rest on earth for souls
Whose dreams are like a madman's! I am young
And much is yet before me-after years
May bring peace with them to my weary heart!
Helston, 1835.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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A Rock In A Weary Land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
None of this moves me,
I should be weeping but it only hurts when I yawn
I let it blow through me, and its gone!
Im dressed like a scarecrow
Stripped of all my power, as if some judge in judgement said
Off with his great coat, and his head!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Meaningless movies
On the screen behind the band thats blowing flowing shapes
Half of their music is on tape
My mentor and champion is busy tilting at the windows of his stately home
The daemon hes grappling
Is his own!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
His letter lies open
His accusations flow like poison from his every word
My heart would be broken, but for her
The fag-end of winter
Im in shock! Im on the ropes! I dont know whats become!
She plucks the splinter from my thumb
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
In the weary land!
My rock in a weary land
My rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land
Hey!
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rock In The Weary Land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
None of this moves me,
I should be weeping but it only hurts when I yawn
I let it blow through me, and its gone!
Im dressed like a scarecrow
Stripped of all my power, as if some judge in judgement said
Off with his great coat, and his head!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Meaningless movies
On the screen behind the band thats blowing flowing shapes
Half of their music is on tape
My mentor and champion is busy tilting at the windows of his stately home
The daemon hes grappling
Is his own!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
His letter lies open
His accusations flow like poison from his every word
My heart would be broken, but for her
The fag-end of winter
Im in shock! Im on the ropes! I dont know whats become!
She plucks the splinter from my thumb
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
In the weary land!
My rock in a weary land
My rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land
Hey!
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rock In The Weary Land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
None of this moves me,
I should be weeping but it only hurts when I yawn
I let it blow through me, and its gone!
Im dressed like a scarecrow
Stripped of all my power, as if some judge in judgement said
Off with his great coat, and his head!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Meaningless movies
On the screen behind the band thats blowing flowing shapes
Half of their music is on tape
My mentor and champion is busy tilting at the windows of his stately home
The daemon hes grappling
Is his own!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
His letter lies open
His accusations flow like poison from his every word
My heart would be broken, but for her
The fag-end of winter
Im in shock! Im on the ropes! I dont know whats become!
She plucks the splinter from my thumb
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
In the weary land!
My rock in a weary land
My rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land
Hey!
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Matins
Gray earth, gray mist, gray sky:
Through vapors hurrying by,
Larger than wont, on high
Floats the horned, yellow moon.
Chill airs are faintly stirred,
And far away is heard,
Of some fresh-awakened bird,
The querulous, shrill tune.
The dark mist hides the face
Of the dim land: no trace
Of rock or river's place
In the thick air is drawn;
But dripping grass smells sweet,
And rustling branches meet,
And sounding water greet
The slow, sure, sacred dawn.
Past is the long black night,
With its keen lightnings white,
Thunder and floods: new light
The glimmering low east streaks.
The dense clouds part: between
Their jagged rents are seen
Pale reaches blue and green,
As the mirk curtain breaks.
Above the shadowy world,
Still more and more unfurled,
The gathered mists upcurled
Like phantoms melt and pass.
In clear-obscure revealed,
Brown wood, gray stream, dark field:
Fresh, healthy odors yield
Wet furrows, flowers, and grass.
The sudden, splendid gleam
Of one thin, golden beam
Shoots from the feathered rim
Of yon hill crowned with woods.
Down its embowered side,
As living waters slide,
So the great morning tide
Follows in sunny floods.
From bush and hedge and tree
Joy, unrestrained and free,
Breaks forth in melody,
Twitter and chirp and song:
Alive the festal air
With gauze-winged creatures fair,
That flicker everywhere,
Dart, poise, and flash along.
The shining mists are gone,
Slight films of gold swift-blown
Before the strong, bright sun
Or the deep-colored sky:
A world of life and glow
Sparkles and basks below,
Where the soft meads a-row,
Hoary with dew-fall, lie.
Does not the morn break thus,
Swift, bright, victorious,
With new skies cleared for us,
Over the soul storm-tost?
Her night was long and deep,
Strange visions vexed her sleep,
Strange sorrows bade her weep:
Her faith in dawn was lost.
No halt, no rest for her,
The immortal wanderer
From sphere to higher sphere,
Toward the pure source of day.
The new light shames her fears,
Her faithlessness, her tears,
As the new sun appears
To light her godlike way.
poem by Emma Lazarus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On the South Downs
Light falls the rain
On link and laine,
After the burning day;
And the bright scene,
Blue, gold, and green,
Is blotted out in gray.
Not so will part
The glowing heart
With sunny hours gone by;
On cliff and hill
There lingers still
A light that cannot die.
Like a gold crown
Gorse decks the Down,
All sapphire lies the sea;
And incense sweet
Springs as our feet
Tread light the thymy lea.
Fade, vision bright!
Fall rain, fall night!
Forget, gray world, thy green!
For us, nor thee,
Can all days be
As though this had not been!
poem by Francis William Bourdillon
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Loud Without the Wind Was Roaring
Loud without the wind was roaring
Through th' autumnal sky;
Drenching wet, the cold rain pouring,
Spoke of winter nigh.
All too like that dreary eve,
Did my exiled spirit grieve.
Grieved at first, but grieved not long,
Sweet—how softly sweet!—it came;
Wild words of an ancient song,
Undefined, without a name.
'It was spring, and the skylark was singing';
Those words they awakened a spell;
They unlocked a deep fountain, whose springing,
Nor absence, nor distance can quell.
In the gloom of a cloudy November
They uttered the music of May;
They kindled the perishing ember
Into fervour that could not decay.
Awaken, o'er all my dear moorland,
West-wind, in thy glory and pride!
Oh! call me from valley and lowland,
To walk by the hill-torrent's side!
It is swelled with the first snowy weather;
The rocks they are icy and hoar,
And sullenly waves the long heather,
And the fern leaves are sunny no more.
There are no yellow stars on the mountain
The bluebells have long died away
From the brink of the moss-bedded fountain—
From the side of the wintry brae.
But lovelier than corn-fields all waving
In emerald, and vermeil, and gold,
Are the heights where the north-wind is raving,
And the crags where I wandered of old.
It was morning: the bright sun was beaming;
How sweetly it brought back to me
The time when nor labour nor dreaming
Broke the sleep of the happy and free!
But blithely we rose as the dawn-heaven
Was melting to amber and blue,
And swift were the wings to our feet given,
As we traversed the meadows of dew.
For the moors! For the moors, where the short grass
Like velvet beneath us should lie!
For the moors! For the moors, where each high pass
Rose sunny against the clear sky!
For the moors, where the linnet was trilling
Its song on the old granite stone;
Where the lark, the wild sky-lark, was filling
Every breast with delight like its own!
What language can utter the feeling
Which rose, when in exile afar,
On the brow of a lonely hill kneeling,
I saw the brown heath growing there?
It was scattered and stunted, and told me
That soon even that would be gone:
It whispered, 'The grim walls enfold me,
I have bloomed in my last summer's sun.'
But not the loved music, whose waking
Makes the soul of the Swiss die away,
Has a spell more adored and heartbreaking
Than, for me, in that blighted heath lay.
The spirit which bent 'neath its power,
How it longed—how it burned to be free!
If I could have wept in that hour,
Those tears had been heaven to me.
Well—well; the sad minutes are moving,
Though loaded with trouble and pain;
And some time the loved and the loving
Shall meet on the mountains again!
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
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Song
Oh! To be a flower
Nodding in the sun,
Bending, then upspringing
As the breezes run;
Holding up
A scent-brimmed cup,
Full of summer's fragrance to the summer sun.
Oh! To be a butterfly
Still, upon a flower,
Winking with its painted wings,
Happy in the hour.
Blossoms hold
Mines of gold
Deep within the farthest heart of each chaliced flower.
Oh! To be a cloud
Blowing through the blue,
Shadowing the mountains,
Rushing loudly through
Valleys deep
Where torrents keep
Always their plunging thunder and their misty arch of blue.
Oh! To be a wave
Splintering on the sand,
Drawing back, but leaving
Lingeringly the land.
Rainbow light
Flashes bright
Telling tales of coral caves half hid in yellow sand.
Soon they die, the flowers;
Insects live a day;
Clouds dissolve in showers;
Only waves at play
Last forever.
Shall endeavor
Make a sea of purpose mightier than we dream to-day?
poem by Amy Lowell
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April in the Hills
To-day the world is wide and fair
With sunny fields of lucid air,
And waters dancing everywhere;
The snow is almost gone;
The noon is builded high with light,
And over heaven's liquid height,
In steady fleets serene and white,
The happy clouds go on.
The channels run, the bare earth steams,
And every hollow rings and gleams
With jetting falls and dashing streams;
The rivers burst and fill;
The fields are full of little lakes,
And when the romping wind awakes
The water ruffles blue and shakes,
And the pines roar on the hill.
The crows go by, a noisy throng;
About the meadows all day long,
The shore-lark drops his brittle song;
And up the leafless tree
The nut-hatch runs, and nods, and clings;
The bluebird dips with flashing wings,
The robin flutes, the sparrow sings,
And the swallows float and flee.
I break the spirit's cloudy bands,
A wanderer in enchanted lands,
I feel the sun upon my hands;
And far from care and strife
The broad earth bids me forth. I rise
With lifted brow and upward eyes.
I bathe my spirit in blue skies,
And taste the springs of life.
I feel the tumult of new birth;
I waken with the wakening earth;
I match the bluebird in her mirth;
And wild with wind and sun,
A treasurer of immortal days,
I roam the glorious world with praise,
The hillsides and the woodland ways,
Till earth and I are one.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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I Dreamt A Dream
I dreamt a dream
But now I lay awake
Sleep far gone
But the dream goes on
Sweeter than sleep
More tender
Than a poem
Through eternity
Like an epic poem
Our love
Our home
All boundaries gone
Together
A second
A breath
A whisper
A chance
A moment
A blessing
A kiss
A prayer answered
Never spoken
Somehow from my heart
It strayed
Precious spirit
Teaching
Listening
Answering
C aring
The Spirit Moves between
Earth and Heavenly realms
Communicating with
You and me
The perfect seed
Faith
Hope
Charity
Virtue
Grace
And Love
Heaven on earth
Heaven above
Finding
Striving
Improving
Movi ng
Upon wings of a dove
From star to star
From light to light
Songs of worship
Songs of praise
Fill our nights
Fill our days
With dreams for you
With dreams for me
With dreams for us
With dreams of life
From a whisper
From a star
From a book
Never opened
From a book
Never Read
Words streaming now
Between heaven and earth
Between now and eternity
To your ears
To touch a place
Never touched
To bring you home to me
To break this grip
That locks your spirit
The dream is awake
For us to live
You have waited
And stayed awake
Share the hope
Share the dream
Stay free
Stay open
Dare to give
Dare to care
Dare to move
Dare to roam
Dare to live
Dare to dare
Life is where
Ever I go
I open doors
I overflow
With heavenly sweetness
With a heavenly glow
poem by Brian Kilpatrick
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