Cleve Woods
SWEET Avon glides where clinging rushes seem
To stay his course, and, in his flattering glass,
Meadows and hills and mellow woodlands pass,
A fairer world as imaged in a dream.
And sometimes, in a visionary gleam,
From out the secret covert's tangled mass,
The fisher-bird starts from the rustling grass,
A jewelled shuttle shot along the stream.
Even here, methinks, when moon-lapped shallows smiled
Round isles no bigger than a baby cot,
Titania found a glowworm-lighted child,
Led far astray, and, with anointing hand
Sprinkling clear dew from a forget-me-not,
Hailed him the Laureate of her Fairyland.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Related quotes
Spring Gathering
I'm wondering with my soul prepared feeling off and on
breeze within the springtime glare.I have met in my
mind a woman more fair-fairer than the bending green
of brooks, rare is her beauty never misunderstood.
Fairer than the mist over hills and mountains.
Fairer than sunshine on water when it sparkles.
Fairer than the sound of birds calling, mating.
Fairer than rapture of rivers running full force.
Fairer than trees with leaves of gold.
Fairer inside those dark brown eyes.
Fairer than raindrops falling from rooftops.
Fairer than a breathing bed of flowers.
Fairer than the most enchanting pools of the jungle.
Fairer than the sky in a radiant blue.
Fairer in heart than I could have ever imagined.
poem by William Blackman
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Unconscious
I’m blind, I’m stubborn
I don’t need anybody else
But somehow, I don’t know
I’m unconsciously clinging for warmth
I’m tough, I’m strong
I could run my world alone
But somehow, I don’t know
I’m unconsciously clinging for attention
I want to go, I want to disappear
I don’t want to live in this world again
But somehow, I don’t know
I’m unconsciously clinging for hope
I’m filthy, I’m unworthy
Everybody calls me a sinner
But somehow, I don’t know
I’m unconsciously clinging for love
I’m fool, I’m hopeless one
All doors are closed for me
But somehow, I don’t know
I’m unconsciously clinging for dream
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Fairest Lord Jesus
Fairest Lord Jesus,
Ruler of all nature,
O Thou of God and man the Son,
Thee will I cherish, Thee will I honor,
Thou, my soul's glory, joy and crown.
Fair are the meadows, fairer still the woodlands,
Robed in the blooming garb of spring;
Jesus is fairer, Jesus is purer,
Who makes the woeful heart to sing.
Fair is the sunshine,
Fairer still the moonlight,
And all the twinkling starry host;
Jesus shines brighter, Jesus shines purer
Than all the angels heaven can boast.
All fairest beauty, heavenly and earthly,
Wondrously, Jesus, is found in Thee;
None can be nearer, fairer or dearer,
Than Thou, my Savior, art to me.
Beautiful Savior! Lord of all the nations!
Son of God and Son of Man!
Glory and honor, praise, adoration,
Now and forever more be Thine.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Afton
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Thou stock-dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forebear,
I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.
How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills,
Far mark'd with the courses of clear winding rills,
There daily I wander as noon rises high
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.
How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below,
Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow;
There oft as mild Ev'ning weeps over the lea
The sweet scented birk shades my Mary and me.
Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides,
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
As gathering sweet flow'rets she stems thy clear wave.
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays,
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
song performed by by Nickel Creek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Afton Water
1 Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
2 Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;
3 My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
4 Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
5 Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds thro' the glen,
6 Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
7 Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear,
8 I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.
9 How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills,
10 Far mark'd with the courses of clear winding rills;
11 There daily I wander as noon rises high,
12 My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.
13 How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below,
14 Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow;
15 There oft, as mild Ev'ning sweeps over the lea,
16 The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.
17 Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
18 And winds by the cot where my Mary resides,
19 How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
20 As gathering sweet flowrets she stems thy clear wave.
21 Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
22 Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays;
23 My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
24 Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream
poem by Robert Burns
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Sweet Afton
'Flow gently, sweet Afton! amang thy green braes,
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Thou stockdove whose echo resounds thro' the glen,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
Thou green-crested lapwing thy screaming forbear,
I charge you, disturb not my slumbering Fair.
How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills,
Far mark'd with the courses of clear, winding rills;
There daily I wander as noon rises high,
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.
How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below,
Where, wild in the woodlands, the primroses blow;
There oft, as mild Ev'ning weeps over the lea,
The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.
Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides;
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
As, gathering sweet flowerets, she stems thy clear wave.
Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes,
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
poem by Robert Burns (1791)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Elegiac I.
From thy far sources, 'mid mountains airily climbing,
Pass to the rich lowland, thou busy sunny river;
Murmuring once, dimpling, pellucid, limpid, abundant,
Deepening now, widening, swelling, a lordly river.
Through woodlands steering, with branches waving above thee,
Through the meadows sinuous, wandering irriguous;
Towns, hamlets leaving, towns by thee, bridges across thee,
Pass to palace garden, pass to cities populous.
Murmuring once, dimpling, ’mid woodlands wandering idly,
Now with mighty vessels loaded, a mighty river.
Pass to the great waters, though tides may seem to resist thee,
Tides to resist seeming, quickly will lend thee passage,
Pass to the dark waters that roaring wait to receive thee;
Pass them thou wilt not, thou busy sunny river.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
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Requiescat
Fair is her cottage in its place,
Where yon broad water sweetly slowly glides.
It sees itself from thatch to base
Dream in the sliding tides.
And fairer she, but ah how soon to die!
Her quiet dream of life this hour may cease.
Her peaceful being slowly passes by
To some more perfect peace.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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The dream boy
The dream boy shall be nice,
the dream boy shall be sweet,
the dream boy shall be cute,
the dream boy must be funny.
Of course he must be tough,
of course he must be cute,
of course he must be smart,
and most definitly handsome.
The dream boy should pass me notes,
the dream boy should be clean,
the dream boy should be cool.
The dream boy can't be mean.
The dream boy can't be conceited.
The dream boy cannot lie.
The dream boy shall not gossip.
The dream boy shall not brag.
The dream boy shall not stalk.
The dream boy will be made.
But does such a dream boy exist?
poem by Jasmine Aira
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My dear dream
Dream of sea,
Dream of ships,
Dream of huge ocean,
Dream of men in unifom
Its my dream, dream so different,
Dream so new, dream of dark sky up above,
Dream of sea so calm, dream of sea roaring,
Its my sweet dream.
Dream so sweet, wonderfull, special, close to my heart,
Its my sweet dream.
Dreaming to get my dreams happen.
Its my sweet dream.
poem by Anees Akbar
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If You Can Dream
If you can dream,
Why don’t you dream
For a good family
Who can stay with us
In our peaceful home.
If you can dream,
Why don’t you dream
For a sweet song
Which fills in every one’s heart
The joy to share with people.
If you can dream,
Why don’t you dream
For the innocent creatures
They can get their world
To play in a melodious tune.
If you can dream,
Why don’t you dream
For the flowers
Which can spread all the hues
In poor’s eye.
If you can dream,
Why don’t you dream
For quiet moments
In which everybody can live
Peacefully to weave
A kind of bond among us.
If you can dream,
Why don’t you dream
For doing all the good deeds
Through which you can
Get the perfect rest.
If you can dream,
Why don’t you dream
For believing in maker
Who is holding our hand
In each and every moment.
If you can dream,
Why don’t you dream
For sacrificing your life
For those whose eyes
Searching you for help.
poem by Cheyanne Whien
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Flattering
Flattering, train, rain, fling, ring, gin, in, fear, gear, fire, tear, era, near;
But corrupt to the African syndrome!
So, watch your steps before you fall very deep into the hole!
And like the flattering divinations in the land of your sweet muse.
Flattering, eating, tale, gel, fate, rag, age, grain, gain, fine, fin, feat, neat;
And like the struggles of the African child!
But, when will our leaders do the right thing?
Flattering, later, flatter, raw, flat, grit, get, gate, at, an, if, felt, fit, air, war!
With the very act of your muse in the land of trouble;
But corrupt to the African syndrome!
So, try to be yourself to do the right things always.
Flattering, fat, tea, eat, ate, rat, art, tar, rate, late, ant, latter, alter, are, ear;
Honesty is the key of life so, let us live by it!
For, the struggles of the African child do have many meanings as seen around;
But, the flattering words from our leaders are not helping matters.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Dream
Said Will: "I'll stay and till the land."
Said Jack: "I'll sail the sea."
So one went forth kit-bag in hand,
The other ploughed the lea.
They met again at Christmas-tide,
And wistful were the two.
Said Jack: "you're lucky here to bide."
Said Will: "I envy you."
"For in your eyes a light I see
Of tropic shores agleam."
Said Jack: "You need not envy me,
For still you have the Dream.
"The Dream that lured me out to sea;
'Twas bright as paradise;
Far fairer than the memory
You see within my eyes.
So if my foolish urge you share
In foreign lands to roam,
Take up my kit-bag waiting there
And I will stay at home."
* * * * * * * *
Yet while the years have fated Will
To sow the sober loam,
The eyes of Jack are starry still,
High-riding hills of foam.
poem by Robert William Service
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His Dream Speech
During the segregated ages
A man with infinite courage
Stood and prophecise with his message
He spoke of a bright star with dark image
His brightness will rent vast pass squrel hole
From his kingdom he will influence the whole
I have a dream
That was his theme
Tho this man now live with the majority
But his dream speech was not a vanity
As it came to pass
While the world watch it on a glass
On that memorable scene
We are happy but relly miss him
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
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The Man in the Glass
When you get what you want in your struggle for self
and the world makes you king for a day
Just go to the mirror and look at yourself
and see what that man has to say
For it isn't your father or mother or wife
who judgment upon you must pass
The fellow whose verdict counts the most in your life
is the one staring back from the glass
Some people may think you a straight-shooting chum
and call you a wonderful guy
But the guy in the glass says you're only a bum
if you can't look him straight in the eye
He's the fellow to please never mind all the rest
for he's with you clear up to the end
And you've passed your most dangerous difficult test
if the man in the glass is your friend
You may fool the whole world down the pathway
of life and get pats on the back as pass
But your final reward will be heartaches and
tears if you've cheated the man in the glass.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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The River and the Hill
And they shook their sweetness out in their sleep
On the brink of that beautiful stream,
But it wandered along with a wearisome song
Like a lover that walks in a dream:
So the roses blew
When the winds went through,
In the moonlight so white and still;
But the river it beat
All night at the feet
Of a cold and flinty hill -
Of a hard and senseless hill!
I said, "We have often showered our loves
Upon something as dry as the dust;
And the faith that is crost, and the hearts that are lost -
Oh! how can we wittingly trust?
Like the stream which flows,
And wails as it goes.
Through the moonlight so white and still,
To beat and to beat
All night at the feet
Of a cold and flinty hill -
Of a hard and senseless hill?
"River, I stay where the sweet roses blow,
And drink of their pleasant perfumes!
Oh, why do you moan, in this wide world alone,
When so much affection here blooms?
The winds wax faint,
And the moon like a saint
Glides over the woodlands so white and still!
But you beat and you beat
All night at the feet
Of that cold and flinty hill -
Of that hard and senseless hill!"
poem by Henry Kendall
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Helpless
I am a helpless fellow.
But I dream of a sweet day, and it will be mellow.
I have had my mysterious thoughts as a companion.
It will work between me and the world as a mediation.
I know, I will not be sympathized.
I know, I will never get back my personalty as a perpetual and recognized.
My Lord says, “ Act for right justice as a proud
through which you can make your sentence loud.”
My perceived sense from seminary will go for vulgar
If I stay vouching wrong deeds longer.
So, I need to be stronger.
Though I am a helpless,
but someday you can see a charming fondness from this helpless…
poem by Bibhakar Dutta
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We Are Glass
We are young we can break
Watch us fall
We can take some train
Down to the sea
We are glass, we are glass
We are real you can touch
Just for now
And then say
hey you, which way is down
We are glass, we are glass
We are strong we run though
We have time
And to you Im just
One of those boys
We are glass, we are glass
We are cold
Were not supposed to cry
But its all just a thought
So here am i
We are glass, we are glass
They run fast
Impressions of the floors inviting
Stay with me, stay with me
They run past
With telephones they scream
Well would you turn all this down
Turn all this down
You are replaced you are you
And our dreams are real
And dreams are all we need
We are glass, we are glass
We slip down
And old eyes dont cry for me
Cause I doubt Im and I doubt you
And never never going to doubt
We are glass, we are glass
They run fast
Impressions of the floors inviting
Stay with me, stay with me
They run past
With telephones they scream
Well would you turn all this down
Turn all this down
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Toledo
The little stones chuckle against the fields:
'We are so small: God will not think of us;
We are so old already, we have seen
So many generations blunt their ploughs,
Tilling the fields we lie in; and we dream
Of our first sleep among the ancient hills.'
The grass laughs, thinking: 'I am born and die,
And born and die, and know not birth or death,
Only the going on of the green earth.'
The rivers pass and pass, and are the same,
And I, who see the beauty of the world,
Pass, and am not the same, or know it not,
And know the world no more. O is not this
Some horrible conspiracy of things,
That I have known and loved and lingered with
All my days through, and now they turn like hosts
Who have grown tired of a delaying guest?
They cast me out from their eternity:
God is in league with their forgetfulness.
poem by Arthur Symons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Toledo
The little stones chuckle against the fields:
'We are so small: God will not think of us;
We are so old already, we have seen
So many generations blunt their ploughs,
Tilling the fields we lie in; and we dream
Of our first sleep among the ancient hills.'
The grass laughs, thinking: 'I am born and die,
And born and die, and know not birth or death,
Only the going on of the green earth.'
The rivers pass and pass, and are the same,
And I, who see the beauty of the world,
Pass, and am not the same, or know it not,
And know the world no more. O is not this
Some horrible conspiracy of things,
That I have known and loved and lingered with
All my days through, and now they turn like hosts
Who have grown tired of a delaying guest?
They cast me out from their eternity:
God is in league with their forgetfulness.
poem by Arthur Symons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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