Comparison
THE sky of brightest gray seems dark
To one whose sky was ever white.
To one who never knew a spark,
Thro' all his life, of love or light,
The grayest cloud seems over-bright.
The robin sounds a beggar's note
Where one the nightingale has heard,
But he for whom no silver throat
Its liquid music ever stirred,
Deems robin still the sweetest bird.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Robin's Mistake
What do you think Red Robin
Found by a mow of hay?
Why, a flask brimful of liquor,
That the mowers brought that day
To slake their thirst in the hayfield.
And Robin he shook his head:
'Now, I wonder what they call it,
And how it tastes?' he said.
'I have seen the mowers drink it-
Why isn't it good for me?
So I'll just draw out the stopper
And get at the stuff, and see!'
But alas! for the curious Robin,
One draught, and he burned his throat
From his bill to his poor crop's lining,
And he could not utter a note.
And his head grew light and dizzy,
And he staggered left and right,
Tipped over the flask of brandy,
And spilled it, every mite.
But after awhile he sobered,
And quietly flew away,
And he never has tasted liquor,
Or touched it, since that day.
But I heard him say to his kindred.
In the course of a friendly chat,
'These men think they are above us,
Yet they drink such stuff as that!
Oh, the poor degraded creatures!
I am glad I am only a bird!'
Then he flew up over the meadow,
And that was all I heard.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Nightingale
(jude johnstone)
Yesterday I thought that I walked alone
And that love was just a memory
But a nightingale followed me back home
And my love was waiting there for me
I had lost my faith as lovers often do
When the storm clouds gather overhead
But the nightingale sang a note so true
That I knew Id lost my fear instead
And to think that I said love was for fools
And that time would never heal these old wounds
But the nightingale saved a prayer for me
In the twilight he played a faithful tune
I have heard the lark over in the vale
And Ive heard the lonesome whippoorwill
But the sweetest song is the nightingales
And I know Ill never get my fill
song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Robin Redbreast
Good-bye, good-bye to Summer!
For Summer's nearly done;
The garden smiling faintly,
Cool breezes in the sun;
Our Thrushes now are silent,
Our Swallows flown away, --
But Robin's here, in coat of brown,
With ruddy breast-knot gay.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
Robin singing sweetly
In the falling of the year.
Bright yellow, red, and orange,
The leaves come down in hosts;
The trees are Indian Princes,
But soon they'll turn to Ghosts;
The scanty pears and apples
Hang russet on the bough,
It's Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late,
'Twill soon be Winter now.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And welaway! my Robin,
For pinching times are near.
The fireside for the Cricket,
The wheatstack for the Mouse,
When trembling night-winds whistle
And moan all round the house;
The frosty ways like iron,
The branches plumed with snow, --
Alas! in Winter, dead and dark,
Where can poor Robin go?
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And a crumb of bread for Robin,
His little heart to cheer.
poem by William Allingham
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Robin Hood, An Outlaw.
Robin Hood is an outlaw bold
Under the greenwood tree;
Bird, nor stag, nor morning air
Is more at large than he.
They sent against him twenty men,
Who joined him laughing-eyed;
They sent against him thirty more,
And they remained beside.
All the stoutest of the train,
That grew in Gamelyn wood,
Whether they came with these or not,
Are now with Robin Hood.
And not a soul in Locksley town
Would speak him an ill word;
The friars raged; but no man's tongue,
Nor even feature stirred;
Except among a very few
Who dined in the Abbey halls;
And then with a sigh bold Robin knew
His true friends from his false.
There was Roger the monk, that used to make
All monkery his glee;
And Midge, on whom Robin had never turned
His face but tenderly;
With one or two, they say, besides,
Lord! that in this life's dream
Men should abandon one true thing,
That would abide with them.
We cannot bid our strength remain,
Our cheeks continue round;
We cannot say to an aged back,
Stoop not towards the ground;
We cannot bid our dim eyes see
Things as bright as ever;
Nor tell our friends, though friends from youth,
That they'll forsake us never:
But we can say, I never will,
Friendship, fall off from thee;
And, oh sound truth and old regard,
Nothing shall part us three.
poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
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Robin
Robin and Robin!
Come to my cabin.
We can play in
With fuss and fun.
You can fly being gay
And catch insect prey.
As you like you play:
I won’t be in the way.
A beauty is your tail.
How ably you waggle!
When in air you sail
You are not fragile.
When you sing a song,
By your tail you clang.
You hold it upright,
Swing it down to spread
And gather it up
Like a drum beat,
Much in a rhythm
To your crooning rhyme.
Black in white is good.
White in black is good.
You’re black and white
And are superbly bright.
Chest and dorsal are black.
Ventral is velvet white.
Wings too bear white
You are white by black.
Koel like is Latha;
You are my Asha,
With look seductive
And voice captive.
You are nice to sing..
You’re nicer by wing.
Love, can you spring?
I love you, Robin.
With me, you are free.
Anytime you can flee.
I make you happy
When you are with me.
Don’t feel it a sin
To be with me in.
You will have fun,
Which is your win
Robin and Robin!
Come to my cabin.
I’ll play a tune.
You rest and preen.
28.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Cloudburst
Words by:
Music by:
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I was blue and I was always wearing a frown
, because my gal had turned me down.
Then we met and you can bet I knew from the first,
you were my love,
and that's when the old gray cloudburst.
My heart really flew,
the day you caught my eye.
I hope that we two will never say "Good-bye."
Clouds of gray have silver linings when they reverse.
I found your love and that's when the old gray cloudburst.
Hey, baby.....
I'm gonna tell you 'bout your lovin'
and your kissn' and your huggin'
and your sweet turtle-dovin' pretty baby.
I won't be satisfied til I hear 'em play,
"Here comes the bride."
Listen to me baby and I don't mean maybe.
Listen to my story,
it's terrifficly true.
I gotta find a way of telling you that I really go for you.
I hope you really believe me baby 'cause I certainly do.
'Cause you're thrillin' me, you're really,
really thrilling when you tell me that you probably got a kind of crush on me,
That moves me, grooves me.
How divine can one woman be?
Well little darlin',
you got me fallin'.
You got me goofy and gay.
I'm gonna get carried away.
Just think, you're gonna be mine someday.
Oh, let's spin a little,
park a little, stop a little,
spark a little,
live a little,
love a little,
maybe turtle-dove a little baby.
Every time you hold me so near,
nobody loves me like you, dear.
Let's stop a little, squeeze a little,
probably maybe tease a little,
try a little, sigh a little,
maybe have to cry a little bit,
'cause to tell you the truth,
I'm gonna love you and that's it.
'Cause I love you baby,
love you baby,
love you baby,
love you baby,
with all my heart.
Oooh, listen to me while I say I let
a lotta little ladies get away
Because I know,
I know pretty baby, I know,
I know, pretty baby,
I know you're the one, yes you're the one.
I knew when I met you what a break it was to get you.
When it's cloudy and gray and that's the worst.
How do you cause the cloud to burst?
You got to find a lover,
find a lover, find a lover, find a lover.
If it's silvery under clouds of gray.
How do you chase the clouds away?
You gotta find a little girl
and make her love you a lot.
Don't ever leave unless you flip your
lid and really want to ruin the plot.
Sounds easy does it?
Light as a breeze thru the trees.
Boy, how pleasant was it?
Pleasant as one summer day, boy.
It's so wonderful,
what a love can do.
Look at what love has done for you.
Hey, I'm a lucky lover, lucky lover,
I got the love you should discover.
I was blue and I was always wearing a frown,
because my gal had turned me down.
Then we met and you can bet I knew from the first,
You were my love,
and that's when the old gray cloudburst.
Take a look at me.
Boy take another look,
take another look,
take another look,
Take another good, long, look at me.
Love opened my eyes and now I see,
Clouds of gray have silver linings when they reverse.
I found your love,
and that's when the old, gray, cloudburst.
That's when the old, gray, cloud burst!
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter
Clouded with snow
The cold winds blow,
And shrill on leafless bough
The robin with its burning breast
Alone sings now.
The rayless sun,
Day's journey done,
Sheds its last ebbing light
On fields in leagues of beauty spread
Unearthly white.
Thick draws the dark,
And spark by spark,
The frost-fires kindle, and soon
Over that sea of frozen foam
Floats the white moon.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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Baby Your Love Is The Sweetest Sin
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
Which shines like the stars above
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
That shows you’ll always be my luv
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
Adding music to my life
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
Which saves me from this pain and strife
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
You know you rock my world
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
You know I’ll always be your girl
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
Which washes away my pain
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
I’m happy and you’re the one to blame
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
Of you I’ll never tire
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
You are the spark that lights my fire
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
To you I’ll always be devout
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
Which I cannot live without
poem by Jade Hymora
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Critic and Poet: an Epilogue
("Poetry must be simple, sensuous, or impassioned; this man is neither simple, sensuous, nor impassioned; therefore he is not a poet")
No man had ever heard a nightingale,
When once a keen-eyed naturalist was stirred
To study and define--what is a bird,
To classify by rote and book, nor fail
To mark its structure and to note the scale
Whereon its song might possibly be heard.
Thus far, no farther;--so he spake the word.
When of a sudden,--hark, the nightingale!
Oh deeper, higher than he could divine
That all-unearthly, untaught strain! He saw
The plain, brown warbler, unabashed. "Not mine"
(He cried) "the error of this fatal flaw.
No bird is this, it soars beyond my line,
Were it a bird, 'twould answer to my law."
poem by Emma Lazarus
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By The Arno
THE oleander on the wall
Grows crimson in the dawning light,
Though the grey shadows of the night
Lie yet on Florence like a pall.
The dew is bright upon the hill,
And bright the blossoms overhead,
But ah! the grasshoppers have fled,
The little Attic song is still.
Only the leaves are gently stirred
By the soft breathing of the gale,
And in the almond-scented vale
The lonely nightingale is heard.
The day will make thee silent soon,
O nightingale sing on for love!
While yet upon the shadowy grove
Splinter the arrows of the moon.
Before across the silent lawn
In sea-green mist the morning steals,
And to love's frightened eyes reveals
The long white fingers of the dawn
Fast climbing up the eastern sky
To grasp and slay the shuddering night,
All careless of my heart's delight,
Or if the nightingale should die.
poem by Oscar Wilde
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The songster
Music, music with throb and swing,
Of a plaintive note, and long;
'Tis a note no human throat could sing,
No harp with its dulcet golden string,--
Nor lute, nor lyre with liquid ring,
Is sweet as the robin's song.
He sings for love of the season
When the days grow warm and long,
For the beautiful God-sent reason
That his breast was born for song.
Calling, calling so fresh and clear,
Through the song-sweet days of May;
Warbling there, and whistling here,
He swells his voice on the drinking ear,
On the great, wide, pulsing atmosphere
Till his music drowns the day.
He sings for love of the season
When the days grow warm and long,
For the beautiful God-sent reason
That his breast was born for song.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Trico's Song
What bird so sings, yet so does wail?
O 'tis the ravish'd nightingale.
Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu! she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick-song! Who is't now we hear?
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat
Poor robin redbreast tunes his note!
Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing
Cuckoo! to welcome in the spring!
Cuckoo! to welcome in the spring!
What Bird So Sings, Yet So Does Wail?
What bird so sings, yet so does wail?
Oh, 'tis the ravished nightingale.
Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu, she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick-song! Who is't now we hear?
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
How at heaven's gates she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat
Poor robin redbreast tunes his note;
Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing
Cuckoo, to welcome in the spring,
Cuckoo, to welcome in the spring.
Spring's Welcome
WHAT bird so sings, yet so does wail?
O 'tis the ravish'd nightingale.
Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu! she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick-song! Who is't now we hear?
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat
Poor robin redbreast tunes his note!
Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing
Cuckoo! to welcome in the spring!
Cuckoo! to welcome in the spring!
A Child's Laughter
ALL the bells of heaven may ring,
All the birds of heaven may sing,
All the wells on earth may spring,
All the winds on earth may bring
All sweet sounds together---
Sweeter far than all things heard,
Hand of harper, tone of bird,
Sound of woods at sundawn stirred,
Welling water's winsome word,
Wind in warm wan weather,
One thing yet there is, that none
Hearing ere its chime be done
Knows not well the sweetest one
Heard of man beneath the sun,
Hoped in heaven hereafter;
Soft and strong and loud and light,
Very sound of very light
Heard from morning's rosiest height,
When the soul of all delight
Fills a child's clear laughter.
Golden bells of welcome rolled
Never forth such notes, nor told
Hours so blithe in tones so bold,
As the radiant mouth of gold
Here that rings forth heaven.
If the golden-crested wren
Were a nightingale---why, then,
Something seen and heard of men
Might be half as sweet as when
Laughs a child of seven.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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First Robin of Spring
Today heard a beautiful
sound, it was up in a tree,
sitting on a branch so alone,
spring is near by.
As my first robin to
see is looking down
on me, so peacefully,
robins are a sure sign,
warm weather is on its way,
a new start, new beginning,
beautiful sounds coming
from this beautiful robin.
Winter so cold, so long,
snow almost all gone,
spring flowers just
a stone throw away.
Dear robin you bring such
joy and comfort to my
heart listening to you,
your welcome here anytime.
wrote 3-14-07
Once Heard-now Remembered
Light as a feather
she twirls, she spins
and that's before
the music begins.
The music's been playing.
It's not been heard.
But in her memory
her heart is stirred.
Since silence has come
all the music is done.
She relies on her past
when sounds were the sun.
In her head the tune's playing.
She feels it and starts swaying.
The sounds of the words
have all gone away.
But not the music,
it will always stay.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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His Friends Are More Than Fond Of Robin
(carly simon)
His friends are more than fond of robin
He doesnt need to compliment them
And always as he leaves he leaves them
Feeling proud just to know him
When robin goes on holiday
Theres no-one livin in our lane
Oh yes, folks still live in our lane
But theyre not like robin
Robin, Ive never told you
But Ill be yours until were old
Please learn to call me in your dreams
The way Im lookin at you is just as it seems
Hes talked about before he gets there
Though he can never understand it
And I wouldnt like to be his alone
But Im shy and cant demand it
But when robin gives his love to others
Theres no-one living in my heart
Oh yes, I keep others in my heart
But theyre not like robin
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Incantation
A white well
In a black cave;
A bright shell
In a dark wave.
A white rose
Black brambles hood;
Smooth bright snows
In a dark wood.
A flung white glove
In a dark fight;
A white dove
On a wild black night.
A white door
In a dark lane;
A bright core
To bitter black pain.
A white hand
Waved from dark walls;
In a burnt black land
Bright waterfalls.
A bright spark
Where black ashes are;
In the smothering dark
One white star.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Magpie
The magpie's mood is never surly
every morning, wakening early,
he gargles music in his throat,
the liquid squabble of his throat.
Its silver stridencies of sound,
the bright confusions and the round
bell-cadences are pealed
over the frosty, half-ploughed field.
Then swooping down self confidently
from the fence-post or the tree,
he swaggers in pied feather coat,
and slips the fat worms down his throat.
poem by James Phillip McAuley
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