Ode To A Child
BRIGHT as a morn of spring,
That jubilates along the earth,
With clouds, and winds, and flowers rejoicing,
And all the creatures that on wing
Scarce dip the ground in their ethereal mirth.
Whilst the dew'd sunlight and the gold-flushed rain
Wed midway in the air;
And from the twain
Is ever born that fairy gossamer,
The iridescent bridge that spans the skies.
Yea, e'en in such wild glory dost thou glow
Soul-fresh exuberant child!
And drops of heavenly freshness gleam
On red, red lips, in dark-orbed eyes,
Like morning dews that glimmering show
On winter moss and heath'ry wild,
And soft-cropped grasses undefiled,
In all the shifting splendour of a dream.
Oh, thou, that in thy glee
Know'st of no ending yet, and no beginning,
Making the hours melodious with thy play,
Like grasshoppers, that through the livelong day
Hopping on the new-mown hay,
Sun-struck trill their roundelay;
Or the cricket, chirping cheerly
Late at night, at morning early,
With a little baby-singing
Like an echo faintly ringing
From the distant summer leas;
And with tremulous murmurs clinging
Round the hearth, like clustering bees
Humming round the linden trees.
And yet athwart thy soul,
At times, perchance, I seem to see
The hid existence of far off events,
Trailing their slumb'rous shadows silently.
For in the dusky deeps
Of thy large eyes
Sometime the veilèd outline of a still
And mute-born vision sleeps
As in the hollows of a hill,
With dim and darksome rents
The dreamful shadow of the morning lies,
And softly, slowly, ever down doth roll,
Till lost in mystic deeps it flees our watchful eyes.
Yet from that silent trance
Quick leap'st thou back into thy playfulness,
As waters darkened by the drifting cloud
Into the swift sweet sunlight crowd,
Where dashed with dewy gold they dance
In unbedimmèd sprightliness;
Till with their blithesome strain
They make the brooding mountains loud
And fling their merriment across the voiceless plain.
And buzzing lightly, here and there,
Thou, like a little curious fly
That fusses through the air,
Dost pry and spy
With thy keen inquisitive eye;
Poking fatly-dimpled fingers
Into corner, box, and closet,
Where, perchance, there hidden lingers
Some deposit,
To be carried off triumphantly.
And with many questions, ever
Rippling like a restless river,
Puzzling many an older brain,
Dost thou hour by hour increase thy store
Of marvellous lore.
Thus a squirrel darting deftly
Up and down autumnal trees,
Sees its hoard of chesnuts growing swiftly
In a heap upon the leaf-strewn leas.
Yea, open art thou to each influence
That strikes on thy soft spirit from without
Thy spirit not yet frozen, nor shut out
From nature's kindling breath
By selfish aims, nor dulled the sense
By hot desires; alas, too oft the death
Of man's spiritual vision. No, thy soul
Is yet all clear and bright
And lieth naked 'neath the eye of heaven
As a small mountain pool--
A pure and azure pool,
To whom its food is given
By dews, and rains, and snows all lily-white,
That softly fall
Through many a summer's day and winter's night;
And whose unspotted breast
Glasses each pageant of the outer world,
The cloud with pinions to the blast unfurled,
The mountains' haughty crest,
The slanting beam of twilight skies
That like a golden ladder lies
Stretching across perchance for angel hosts
To slide
Down to the earth with heavenly boon;
And glasses too the hurrying mists that glide
Like gliding ghosts,
And stars, and all the mildness of the moon.
As yet 'tis early January with thee!
Warm-cradled doth the summer leaf
Lie folded in the winter leaf
On the blank tree.
And folded in the earth the seed
The future mother of some glorious weed,
Or flower blowing gorgeously,
Or cedar branching wondrously,
Lies slumbering; its whole destiny
Of great or lowly, foul or fair,
In this minutest space surely foreshadowed there.
But let the west wind, ocean-born,
Floating towards the meads of morn,
But once spread out his wild and vasty wing
Setting the sap a-cantring; till new life
Works wonders: then thy being
Will strangely stir, as at the sound
Of sounding drum and fife
The war-horse paws the ground.
And through thy sweet pure veins
Life like a waterfall will grandly bound.
But now the Psyche of thy being
Still shyly doth essay her delicate wing,
Like to that airy nurseling of the sun
When first it breaketh through its dun
And hornèd shell, and tries
To move its pinions, powdered o'er and o'er
With rainbow dust of April skies,
That have as not yet learnt to soar,
And lie soft-folded in sweet mysteries.
Oh! looking on thee, I do speculate
On thy futurity!
What wilt thou be?
Some great and glorious lot I dream for thee,
Some starry fate!
For in thy nature meet
Such buoyant strength, and such a sweet
Half-veiled heart tenderness, that on thy being doth rest
Like soft dark bloom upon a pansy's breast;
And pity gushes o'er thee, like warm rain,
For everything in pain,
Or great or small; and such a shoal
Of thick-bred fancies ever swimmeth forth
From the deep sea
Of changeful fantasy,
Like golden fish that glitter in the sun;
And quick perception leading on and on,
Into a maze of thought, fresh'ning the soul
Of him who listens. Aye, what wilt thou be?
Perchance, one of that sacred band
That ever were the salt of earth,
Whom men call dowered with genius! They who stand
In grandeur and in glory like the Alps,
With silver-shining scalps,
Bathed in the ether; feeding all the land
With the pure skyey waters that descend
For ever from them; men who freed
From narrow bonds of hate and greed,
Fetters of custom, and blind circumstance,
Breathe the soul-quickening air of thought and love.
And struggling into freedom, sudden see
The solid shroud of sense
Consumèd by a heavenly flame,
As is the vapour dense and dun,
Which the earth-spirit fast doth breed
By the great sun.
And the large mind in native majesty
Doth catch that radiance evermore above,
Around us; finest effluence of being;
Illuminating with sharp sudden blaze
Nature's mysterious ways;
Until his spirit, feeling itself one
With all that is, and was, and is to be,
Vibrates into intenser life,
Which is creation!
Then makes he revelation
Of that one truth, that as a supreme ray
With new existence heavily fraught,
Lightened in awful loveliness
And empyrean holiness,
Upon his passive thought;
Till with long peals of explosive oracular thunder,
He bursts and cleaves and splinters asunder
The clinging clinking manacles of life,
That fall and curl in harsh black masses under
His wingèd feet: and through time's noisy strife
His infinite acts do strike like flame
Of a volcano seen across a sea,
On nights when with earthquake the labouring hills are rife;
And labouring, too, like heaving heights, doth he,
Girt round with turbulent whirls of praise and blame,
Breathe the hot spark of that which he did see,
As vital force that pulses strong and warm
In the mid-heart of creeds,
Or rolls itself along the epic's flood,
Or lives through ages in the marbled form,
Or leaps to life in the heroic deeds,
Watering with the heart's noble blood
The seed of future world-reforming good.
But stay, my soul;
Too far thou fliest, as a falcon flies,
Forgetful of the hand
Where he must perch, so trancèd with the grand
And boundless skies.
Oh come my song, and roll
Thy billows back, where on the swelling bank,
Mid flowers, and reeds, and grasses rank,
And feathered warblers, warbling wild,
Sporteth the unconscious child,
Safely roofed o'er by shielding mother's love,
Like wee lamb-clouds of morn by tender skies above.
Hark! now I hear thy low soft laughter falling
Upon my heart, like to the murmurous calling
Of brooding stock doves, now it sweet doth sound
Like rippling rills of rain, that make the ground
Harmonious on hot summer afternoons;
And now thy joyous croons
Blither and brighter tumble on my ear
All clarion clear,
Like songs of matin birds that in spring weather,
Hid in young woods, do jubilate together.
Yea, on the musing mind,
That wrapt in meditation's sober dress,
Looks inward in a half-forgetfulness
Of the world's outer show,
Thou breakest in, like a tumultuous wind
That teasing tosses
The foam of flickering fountain;
Or like the flashing flow
Of waves of light along the long green grasses;
Or waters bickering low
Down many a sloping mountain
That make themselves a nest mid ferns and shining mosses.
Of each free thing that in its joy
All chains, and bonds, and obstacles o'erpasses
In elemental gladsomenesses
And wonderful wild wantonesses--
Fire, water, wand'ring air,
Hast a past, exuberant boy,
Glorious, glad, and fresh, and fair,
And blowing in upon the tired brain
Nature's undying, spirit-stirring strain.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Related quotes
The Sylvan Grave
Lay me not, when I die, in the place of the dead,
With the dwellings of men round my resting place spread,
But amidst the still forest, unseen and alone,
Where the waters go by with a murmuring tone;
Where the wild bird above me may wave its dark wing,
And the flowers I have loved from my ashes may spring;
Where affection's own blossom may lift its blue eye,
With an eloquent glance from the place where I lie.
Let the rose and the woodbine be there, to enwreath
A bright chaplet of bloom for the pale brow of death;
And the clover's red blossom be seen, that the hum
Of the honey-bee's wing, may for requiem come:
And when those I have loved, ‘midst the changes of earth,
The clouds of its sorrow, its sunshine of mirth,
Shall visit the spot where my cold relics lie,
And gaze on its flowers with a tear-moisten'd eye—
Let them think that my spirit still sometimes is there,
My breath the light zephyr that twines in their hair,
And these flowers, in their fragrance, a memory be,
To tell them thus sweet was their friendship to me.
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Moon Beam
Moon beam is rosy;
Vernal Breeze is cosy.
Solitude reigns on Earth;
Village peasants enchant with mirth.
Mild Breeze of spring brings pleasure;
Poet enchants, derives peace from the lap of Nature.
Moon smiles in the distant firmament;
Guys and girls enchant with merriment.
Moon beam bathed night is beautiful;
Lovers and beloved are delightful.
Embrace each other;
Admire the beauty of creator.
Vernal breeze from south kisses creatures;
God contents the desires.
Tranquility reigns on Earth;
All creatures enthuse with mirth.
God attracts devotees;
Cosy morn beam is a brook of delight.
Devotional lyrics mingles in the air;
He fulfils devotees’ desire.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Spring Comes Hither
Spring comes hither
Buds the rose . . .
Roses wither
Sweet spring goes . . .
O ja là
O ja là . . .
Would she carry me.
Summer soars
Wide-wing'd day . . .
White light pours
Flies away . . .
O ja là
O ja là . . .
Would he carry me.
Soft winds blow
Westward borne . . .
Onward go
Towards the morn
O ja là
O ja là . . .
Would they carry me.
Sweet birds sing
O'er the graves
Then take wing
O'er the waves
O ja là
O ja là . . .
Would they carry me.
poem by George Eliot
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Autumn Vavroovahana Patra
Autumn reigns on Earth;
In all creatures plays waves of mirth.
Chilly breeze blows on Earth;
People enjoy the beauty with mirth.
Green paddy plants smile in the lap of Nature;
Goddess operates the lives of all creatures.
Is the Deity of all Deities;
Is our Almighty.
Creatures surrender on mother’s feet;
She is our lives savior, delight.
Provides duty;
Chanting hymns we live with gaiety.
Beauteous looks Autumn firmament.
In all creatures plays waves of merriment;
Silvery cloudy play in the sky;
In poet’s mind plays gay.
Earth looks beautiful;
Creatures are delightful.
Pray goddess gleefully;
Surrender on the Rosy feet gaily.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Rain
Untimely Rain provides displeasure;
Uneasy feel the creature.
Blossoms, flowers do not smile gleefully;
People do not function duty enthusiastically.
Haze covers the Earth;
Creatures live without mirth.
Chilly breeze brings plight;
Devotees smiles without delight.
Cloudy weather destroys vernal beauty;
All desire touch of sun ray with gaiety.
Nature is displeased with activities of creatures;
She hesitates to satisfy their desires.
Vines becomes sensitive in such a weather;
Pains creatures through fever.
Sun ray brings pleasure;
Contents all the creatures.
Flowers smile delightfully with sun’s ray;
In all creatures plays waves of gay.
People enchant delightfully;
Plants smile gaudily.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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S P R I N G
S P R I N G
Spring appears on Earth;
In creatures minds pervades mirth;
Red, white, yellow roses congratulate
The appearance of Queen Spring with merriment;
Vernal breeze blows with insanity
from the firmament.
Sun God smiles in the western horizon;
Beautiful magnificent alluring
attracting looks God’s creation.
Cosy Sun ray falls on the Earth;
In plants and creatures play waves of mirth.
Cuckoo’s melody from the distant mango groves
reverberates in the firmament;
In poet’s mind pervades charm, glamour, inspiration,
enthusiasm and merriment.
Melodious brook flows down the mountain with gay;
She enchants with the cosy touch of Sun ray.
Nature is a Heavenly Fairy allures the poets and the
Earthy creatures;
With profound peace, purity, pleasure
She fulfils their desires.
God’s Nature is a Divine Deity;
In all innocent poets, chaste women, devotees
minds she plays waves of delight.
VAVROOVAHANA PATRA
NABARANGPUR
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Travel Flowers
When you travel ‘cross the country
You see along the roadways
Bright and cheerful flowers especially
In the warm spring and summer days
I love the beautiful sunflowers
Bold yellow blooms you see
Nodding in the gentle winds
Seem to say “hello” to me
White flowers ‘long side a trail
Roots go deep in red dirt
Stand out just beautifully
As they crop up in little spurts
Old barns off in the distance
In the midst of a field of dry grass
Are dotted with many flowers
Oh, I enjoy them when I pass
When spring time sets in and we have
Warm and gentle spring showers
I love to start my trips to see
Delightful travel flowers!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Princess Spring Vavroovahana Patra
Beauty Princess spring appears on Earth;
In all creatures plays waves of mirth.
She appears with the fragrance of blossoms;
To adorn her curly crisp hair various beauteous flowers, blossoms bloom.
The princess appears with the vernal breeze;
To derive her love poets become crazy.
Chilly vernal breeze blows from south;
Splendid looks the vast Earth.
Lovely princess is wrapped with a garment of cosy green creepers;
Contents the lovers, poet’s desires.
Sings with the melody of cuckoo on the mango-tree with profound pleasure;
Fulfills earthy innocent creatures desire.
Melody of the brook congratulates the sweet lovely princess with gaiety;
All human creatures enchant with delight.
She is a peerless Beauty;
Beholding, poet enchant with profound delight.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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The Débutante
To-day dawned not upon the earth as other days have done:
A throng of little virgin clouds stood waiting for the sun,
Till the herald-winds aligned them, and they blushed, and stood aside,
As the marshals of the morning flung the eastern portals wide.
So Nature lit her playhouse for the play that May begins,
And the twigs of honeysuckle sawed like little violins:
In the dawn there dwelt a whisper of a presence that was new,
For the slender Spring was at the wing, and waiting for her cue!
As yet I could not see her, and the stage was wide and bare;
As yet the Winter's chorus echoed faintly on the air
With a dying wail of tempest, and of dry and tortured trees,
But a promise of new music lent enchantment to the breeze.
In the scene's secluded corners lay the snow-drifts, still secure;
But the murmur of their melting sang another overture
Than the brooks of brown November, and I listened, and I knew
That blue-eyed Spring was at the wing, and waiting for her cue!
The world was all attention, and the hemlocks stood, a-row,
Ushers, never changing costume through the Seasons’ wonder-show,
While the day, below the hillside, tried her colors, one by one,
On the clouds experimenting, till the coming of the sun.
In the vines about my window, where the sparrows all convene,
They were practising the chorus that should usher in the Queen,
And the sod-imprisoned flowers craved the word to shoulder through:
Green-girdled Spring was at the wing, and waiting for her cue!
She shall enter to the clarion of the crystal-ringing brooks,
She shall tread on frail arbutus in the moist and mossy nooks;
She shall touch the bleak drop-curtain of the Winter with her wand
Till it lifts, and shows the wonder of the apple blooms beyond!
Yet with all her golden sunlight, and her twilights of perfume,
Yet with all the mystic splendor of her nights of starlit gloom,
She shall bring no sweeter moment than this one in which I knew
That laughing Spring was at the wing, and waiting for her cue!
poem by Guy Wetmore Carryl from The Garden of Years and Other Poems (1902)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Dew Vavroovahana Patra
In Dew haze covers the Earth;
Plants do not smile with mirth.
Creatures derive displeasure;
Sun shrine reveals the beauty of Nature.
Occasional rain falls in the morn;
In sun beam beauteous looks the dawn.
Sun ray brings pleasure;
Beauteous is the cosy lap of Nature.
Women pray god delightfully;
Sing His Glory gaily.
He is everywhere;
Plays in the lap of Nature.
Women pray god on Monday;
It’s a beauteous August day.
Offer fragrant blossoms, flowers;
God contents honest devotee’s desires.
Temples allure women, men in morn;
The shrine is spectacular in the dawn.
God blessth devotees on the altar;
Satisfies honest devotee’s desire.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Unto You This Night
On a night so long ago
By the light of one bright star
Two weary travelers far from galilee
Took refuge in a stable
Where a little child was born
To bring the gift of love to you and me
When the angels told the shepherds of his birth
There came a great rejoicing on the earth
Chorus:
And they sang glory to God in the highest
Dawning that first christmas morn
Peace on earth and ridings of great joy
For unto you this night a child is born
And, lo, these many years since then
That ancient star still guides us
And now again our christmas voices ring
Blessed we are and safe at home
With loved ones her beside us
And in the still and silent night we sing
How the angels told the shepherds of his birth
And there came a great rejoicing on the earth
Repeat chorus:
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mutability - II.
I.
The flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow dies;
All that we wish to stay
Tempts and then flies.
What is this world’s delight?
Lightning that mocks the night,
Brief even as bright.
II.
Virtue, how frail it is!
Friendship how rare!
Love, how it sells poor bliss
For proud despair!
But we, though soon they fall,
Survive their joy, and all
Which ours we call.
III.
Whilst skies are blue and bright,
Whilst flowers are gay,
Whilst eyes that change ere night
Make glad the day;
Whilst yet the calm hours creep,
Dream thou—and from thy sleep
Then wake to weep.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Prevailing Winds
Every day the increasing winds
make themselves known.
Their whistling in the trees I see
seem to have grown
stronger in intensity,
bolder everyday.
And I wonder what the flowers think
that are blooming this month of May?
Their little colorful heads
try to hold their ground.
But the winds are fiercly blowing
and their heads are turned around.
They lean towards the left first
and then towards the right.
Then something magical happens.
It becomes night.
It's like someone waved a wand
and made the winds cease.
Now those delicate flowers of May
finally feel at peace.
But peace will be short-lasting
for the winds will come again.
I know this wind has got to stop.
The flowers are asking when?
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Autumn Moon Vavroovahana Patra
Autumn’s cosy moon beam falls on Earth;
Creatures delighted, plays with mirth.
Lovers, beloved roam hither, thither;
Are youthful creatures of Nature.
Earth is silent;
In all people plays waves of merriement.
In full moon night girls sing on the path;
Enchant with mirth.
Moon smiles in the blue sky;
In all poets plays gay.
Sky looks beautiful;
Creatures are delightful.
Beautiful virgins sing delightfully;
Play in the moon beam gaily.
Beautiful looks lap of Nature;
Goddess fulfils creature’s desire.
Fraternity plays everywhere;
Companions embrace each other.
Mother protects everywhere;
Is the Deity in the lap of Nature.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Spring Time Is Coming
Beautiful Spring is coming,
Ah, yes, will soon be here,
For the clear bright sun is shining
All human hearts to cheer.
One the brightest gems of nature
Is the orb that o'er us shines,
And o'er the wide creation,
It'll shine to the end of time.
The birds will soon be singing
On shrub and bough of trees,
Their notes will soon be ringing
Out, forth so merrily.
They love the merry spring time,
Those little birds we love,
They love the pleasant sunshine
That comes down from above.
We can hear them sweetly singing
From early morn, till night.
They make music in the woodland
Those little birds; so bright,
We should dearly love them,
Those little harmless things,
And when we hear their music,
We know that it is spring.
Ah; it's pleasant in the springtime,
All nature seems so gay.
Bright flowers in the sunshine,
Sweet fragrance can display.
The hills, and dales, and meadows,
So beautifully covered o'er;
With natures richest verdure,
The green grass, as of yore.
The winter will soon be over,
With its cold and chilly winds.
It is sad and dreary ever,
Yet its dying, free from sin.
Now the springtime is coming,
Ah, yes, will soon be here.
We will welcome in its coming
In this glad new year.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Flowers
(orbison/dees)
When I was a boy I ran among the flowers
Looking left and right at the bright array
I played through the spring, whiled away the hours
Lingered with the flowers every day
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
When the summer ends and the storms of life are over
When the winter comes and the petals fall away
They may write it on my stone, he was just a roller
But he stopped to pick some flowers along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, picked some flowers, along the way
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring’s loveliest creature- Butterflies
What hues of Butterflies, we see on earth!
What color combinations and wing-spans!
What textures and designs those fly with mirth!
The tiniest hover-crafts- better than man’s!
From tiny Caterpillar phase, they grow
Into the gorgeous ‘living planes’ that move,
O’er land and sea and sky: from flow’r to bough!
Yes, Nature’s prettiest creature, earthlings love.
When spring spreads her verdure leafy blanket,
And flowers bloom from buds, so numerous,
And Zephyr cool blows over landscape wet,
The butterflies spring forth, most beauteous!
The caterpillar’s gluttony was right!
A swarm of lovely colors weaves a trail
Of happiness astounding any sight!
Yes, spring has come so that earthlings shan’t wail!
A magic performed by Nature mother:
By sweep of her flow’ry-Butterfly wand!
O’er winter’s frozen, leafless land, brother;
Spring’s the shrine of seasons, worshipped, so grand.
poem by John Celes
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The Weather Maker
The Weather Maker reigns above, creating all weather we speak of,
The One and Only True Creator, from both the poles to the equator,
Over this planet that we call earth, He’s the Only One who can birth,
All the weather that men shall see, upon all the lands and every sea.
God alone hides the day’s light, with ominous clouds dark as night,
And whether it is snow, hail or rain, it is The Lord, Who does ordain,
All earth’s precipitation, as it falls, while, God’s mighty thunder rolls,
With piercing lights from the sky, as His lightning catches every eye.
All the winds blow where they may, whether it is the night or the day,
Winds blowing, as The Maker wills, as His purpose, The Lord fulfills,
God stirring up many angry waves, in an ocean that rants and raves,
Or moving wind on desert sands, creating dust storms on the lands.
Hurricane winds, by Him, are spawn, as their path, by God, is drawn,
With tornados, also cutting their path, from God’s destructive Wrath,
This as the very Finger of God, scores the very ground that we trod,
As The Lord God shows His Power, both day and night, at any hour.
This is The Creator, known by some, showing to all, what is to come,
Upon this earth, created by Him, that has been tainted, by man’s sin,
For soon, He’ll purge from this world, all of the evil, sin has unfurled,
Filling it with eternal joy and mirth, when our God makes a New Earth.
(Copyright ©05/2010)
Love Lives Beyond the Tomb
Love lives beyond
The tomb, the earth, which fades like dew-
I love the fond,
The faithful, and the true.
Love lies in sleep,
The happiness of healthy dreams,
Eve's dews may weep,
But love delightful seems.
'Tis seen in flowers,
And in the even's pearly dew
On earth's green hours,
And in the heaven's eternal blue.
'Tis heard in spring
When light and sunbeams, warm and kind,
On angels wing
Bring love and music to the wind.
And where is voice
So young, so beautiful, so sweet
As nature's choice,
Where spring and lovers meet?
Love lies beyond
The tomb, the earth, the flowers, and dew.
I love the fond,
The faithful, young, and true.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Jealous Clouds
The dew of love settles on the blades of grass
In the marshes, the green frogs sleep
While the crickets play their wings like violins
For the hearts of geese to move their feet
And the water streams in content
While the clouds look down on earth
In jealousy clouds want to play
With and on earth's beauty..
They desire the touch of love by the sharp blades of grass
They want to feel the warmth of the frogs sleepy feet on their laps
And listen to the music of the cricket's wings
while they chase the running geese
Jealous clouds want to drink and splash in the azure streams of content
And on earth live in mirth, with the rest of nature's creatures!
O the Jealous Clouds—They can't stuck in heaven they are!
In jealousy they turn gray with sadness and weep
And hide the sun when mad at earth and its light they keep
The jealous clouds roar in thunder to scare our hearts
And tempt us with their purity, dressed in white, soft raiment
The jealous clouds piqued turn vermillion and blush
In admiration of our jealous dreamy eyes…
O jealous clouds how are you jealous of we?
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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