In May
Oh to have you in May,
To talk with you under the trees,
Dreaming throughout the day,
Drinking the wine-like breeze,
Oh it were sweet to think
That May should be ours again,
Hoping it not, I shrink,
Out of the sight of men.
May brings the flowers to bloom,
It brings the green leaves to the tree,
And the fatally sweet perfume,
Of what you once were to me.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Related quotes
What Spring Brings
I enjoy what Spring brings.
The freshness of the air,
Supplied by the budding of leaves on trees.
A warming of a breeze that once could freeze.
The brightness of flowers,
As extended daylight hours come.
This rebirth witnessed is welcomed.
I enjoy what Spring brings.
And what that means as Winter melts.
A commitment seems to be given,
To all living beings.
As Mother Nature delivers.
An evolution of beauty,
Slowly growing upon us to know.
How valuable we are to God.
And how this is bestowed.
I enjoy what Spring brings.
The singing of the birds.
The blue of the sky,
And the grass so green.
The laughter of children and the innocence of it all.
The presence of promise...
A remembered frost seemed to have stalled.
I enjoy what Spring brings.
Appreciating I do...
The giving Spring brings with its offerings.
The kind only this time Spring can bring!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Spring
See how new green shoots
and branches and leaves
and flowers appear
and the green grass
rises everywhere,
the gods had set a part
of Eden here.
Hear the birds
sing and cheer
and see them fly past
and follow the white-hot sun
while the rays comes to stay
for a longer time.
Smell the first rain
and wild flowers
in the fields
and get thrilled
by the sweet scent
that every flower brings
Abide with me
as the trees dress fit
for a royal wedding
and new life
appears from where it hides
and realise that Spring
is a living thing.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Meanings
Your name is carved
On my heart
And your presence
Brings me
Joyful surprises
Where
Sweet dreams
Evening breeze
And
Spectacular sunset
brings
sweet scent of happiness
And explains me
the meanings of
God's Miracles.....
Happy Anniversary Sunny
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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In The Shade Of The Green Wood
In the shade of the green wood
The holly does grow,
While in soft rays of sunlight
The wild roses glow,
And I smell their sweet perfume
That gently floats by,
Past trees strong and mighty
That reach to the sky,
The pathway of gold autumn
Leaves still remain,
As I walk through the green wood again.
In the shade of the green wood
This bright sunny morn,
That's so cool in the shadows
A new day is born,
All the birds in the treetops
Are singing for me,
Sweet songs of the summer
Which fill me with glee,
And know from its beauty
I never shall part,
For the green wood does live in my heart.
In the shade of the green wood
A soft gentle breeze,
Now caresses the branches
And whispers through trees,
A sound reassuring
Shall carry me to,
All the scenes that exist
In each marvellous view,
It's here that my spirit
Shall always now stay,
And the green wood is guiding my way.
poem by Andrew Blakemore
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March Mornings
It sings to me
- the tree, the window tree.
Its leaves open as melodies
to the sheen of Spring.
It speaks to me
its words of green,
says now is the time
for everything.
It fills my dreams
with hopes and things,
making me believe
in what is yet to be.
The tree, the window tree,
brings the birds to me.
Songs come fluttering,
sliding on sun beams.
It dances the breeze,
smiles for me
on mornings like these
- absolutely free.
It sings to me
- the tree, the sweetgum tree.
Its leaves open as memories,
like love to me.
poem by W.I. Stoneberger
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A Year’s Windfalls
On the wind of January
Down flits the snow,
Travelling from the frozen North
As cold as it can blow.
Poor robin redbreast,
Look where he comes;
Let him in to feel your fire,
And toss him of your crumbs.
On the wind in February
Snowflakes float still,
Half inclined to turn to rain,
Nipping, dripping, chill.
Then the thaws swell the streams,
And swollen rivers swell the sea:—
If the winter ever ends
How pleasant it will be!
In the wind of windy March
The catkins drop down,
Curly, caterpillar-like,
Curious green and brown.
With concourse of nest-building birds
And leaf-buds by the way,
We begin to think of flowers
And life and nuts some day.
With the gusts of April
Rich fruit-tree blossoms fall,
On the hedged-in orchard-green,
From the southern wall.
Apple-trees and pear-trees
Shed petals white or pink,
Plum-trees and peach-trees;
While sharp showers sink and sink.
Little brings the May breeze
Beside pure scent of flowers,
While all things wax and nothing wanes
In lengthening daylight hours.
Across the hyacinth beds
The wind lags warm and sweet,
Across the hawthorn tops,
Across the blades of wheat.
In the wind of sunny June
Thrives the red rose crop,
Every day fresh blossoms blow
While the first leaves drop;
White rose and yellow rose
And moss-rose choice to find,
And the cottage cabbage-rose
Not one whit behind.
On the blast of scorched July
Drives the pelting hail,
From thunderous lightning-clouds, that blot
Blue heaven grown lurid-pale.
Weedy waves are tossed ashore,
Sea-things strange to sight
Gasp upon the barren shore
And fade away in light.
In the parching August wind
Corn-fields bow the head,
Sheltered in round valley depths,
On low hills outspread.
Early leaves drop loitering down
Weightless on the breeze,
First fruits of the year's decay
From the withering trees.
In brisk wind of September
The heavy-headed fruits
Shake upon their bending boughs
And drop from the shoots;
Some glow golden in the sun,
Some show green and streaked,
Some set forth a purple bloom,
Some blush rosy-cheeked.
In strong blast of October
At the equinox,
Stirred up in his hollow bed
Broad ocean rocks;
Plunge the ships on his bosom,
Leaps and plunges the foam,—
It's oh! for mothers' sons at sea,
That they were safe at home.
In slack wind of November
The fog forms and shifts;
All the world comes out again
When the fog lifts.
Loosened from their sapless twigs
Leaves drop with every gust;
Drifting, rustling, out of sight
In the damp or dust.
Last of all, December,
The year's sands nearly run,
Speeds on the shortest day,
Curtails the sun;
With its bleak raw wind
Lays the last leaves low,
Brings back the nightly frosts,
Brings back the snow.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Leaves Compared with Flowers
A tree's leaves may be ever so good,
So may its bar, so may its wood;
But unless you put the right thing to its root
It never will show much flower or fruit.
But I may be one who does not care
Ever to have tree bloom or bear.
Leaves for smooth and bark for rough,
Leaves and bark may be tree enough.
Some giant trees have bloom so small
They might as well have none at all.
Late in life I have come on fern.
Now lichens are due to have their turn.
I bade men tell me which in brief,
Which is fairer, flower or leaf.
They did not have the wit to say,
Leaves by night and flowers by day.
Leaves and bar, leaves and bark,
To lean against and hear in the dark.
Petals I may have once pursued.
Leaves are all my darker mood.
poem by Robert Frost
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The Months
January brings the snow,
makes our feet and fingers glow.
February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again.
March brings breezes loud and shrill,
stirs the dancing daffodil.
April brings the primrose sweet,
Scatters daises at our feet.
May brings flocks of pretty lambs,
Skipping by their fleecy damns.
June brings tulips, lilies, roses,
Fills the children's hand with posies.
Hot july brings cooling showers,
Apricots and gillyflowers.
August brings the sheaves of corn,
Then the harvest home is borne.
Warm september brings the fruit,
Sportsmen then begin to shoot.
Fresh October brings the pheasents,
Then to gather nuts is pleasent.
Dull November brings the blast,
Then the leaves are whirling fast.
Chill December brings the sleet,
Blazing fire, and Christmas treat.
poem by Sara Coleridge
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The Rose Tree Of Winter
In the cold winds of Winter she stands thorny and bare
In Summer large beautiful red flowers she did wear
The Rose tree of Winter not a pretty sight
At a time of year with litle warmth in the sunlight,
When the birds in the sunlit gardens will nest and sing
She will wear her new leaves and rosebuds of the Spring
As a tree the rose tree does not grow very tall
Compared to most trees she does seem very small
But in her full bloom none as lovely as she
In her cloak of flowers she's a beautiful tree
But in Winter she stands there by the garden wall
Of the garden trees the most forlorn one of all
And though it may still be a few months from the Spring
The white backed magpie on the blackwood tree sing
But without her leaves and flowers prickly looking and bare
The rose tree looks drab in the cool morning air.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Sorrow
As if my sorrow knows no bound
Its roots are deep in my heart’s ground.
Its branches are high up in the sky
Its fruits are sweet no one can defy.
Its leaves are green as if it won’t die
It’s like a rain tree so it can cry.
Its flowers have very sweet fragrance
It attracts people from a distance.
Its flowers are no doubt colorful
God trims it with His gardening tool.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Dont Ease Me In
Dont ease, dont ease, dont ease me in.
Ive been all night long comin home, dont ease me in.
When I turned around sweet mama, she was way across town
So Im walkin down the street with a dollar in my hand
Ive been lookin for a woman sweet mama, aint got no man.
The girl I love, shes sweet and true,
You the dress she wears, sweet mama, its pink and blue,
She brings me coffee, she brings me tea,
She brings me bout every damn thing but the jailhouse keys.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Needs Only We Can Fulfill
The way green grass grows in Spring,
Returning from Winter's chill...
To renew with an offering that brings,
A missing of what is wished.
If we took time to redo and commit,
With patience to think things through.
Knowing between us feelings felt are true.
The way leaves bud on a tree as done,
And flowers bloom with a brightness seen...
Under the Sun,
Reminds me of how we met.
Just to say we shouldn't do with promises,
What isn't cool to chill us separately...
Since there are needs only we can fulfill.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Over You
my mind's wandering
i savor the passion that your torture brings
my breath's quickening
inhaling the perfume of my sweet sin
i dance on your grave
i pray i am the one that you choose to save
my fingers quiver
dry mouth silkening my boy you are drinking from my river.
it's just a little love song
just to tell you that
i'm coming over you
song performed by by Bif Naked from Bif Naked
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring Season
Look at this world
As it smiles like a baby,
Reaching for treasures
That nature revives.
This is the time
that brings joy beyond measure,
Sweet as the memories
that fashion our lives.
Listen for sounds
that were frozen in winter,
Whispering soft
As a kiss on your hair.
Nature's reborn
And her warmth brings such pleasure,
sweet as the memories
That we used to share.
Feel the new sun
And the breeze he created.
Feel the wet earth
As it swallows the snow.
Pause to decipher
A message unstated,
Sweet as the memories
Of days long ago.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Lilac Wine
James shelton
I lost myself on a cool damp night
Gave myself in that misty light
Was hypnotized by a strange delight
Under a lilac tree
I made wine from the lilac tree
Put my heart in its recipe
It makes me see what I want to see...
And be what I want to be
When I think more than I want to think
Do things I never should do
I drink much more that I ought to drink
Because I brings me back you...
Lilac wine is sweet and heady, like my love
Lilac wine, I feel unsteady, like my love
Listen to me... I cannot see clearly
Isnt that she coming to me nearly here?
Lilac wine is sweet and heady wheres my love?
Lilac wine, I feel unsteady, wheres my love?
Listen to me, why is everything so hazy?
Isnt that she, or am I just going crazy, dear?
Lilac wine, I feel unready for my love...
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rain
I hear leaves drinking rain;
I hear rich leaves on top
Giving the poor beneath
Drop after drop;
'Tis a sweet noise to hear
These green leaves drinking near.
And when the Sun comes out,
After this Rain shall stop,
A wondrous Light will fill
Each dark, round drop;
I hope the Sun shines bright;
'Twill be a lovely sight.
poem by William Henry Davies
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The Succession Of The Four Sweet Months
First, April, she with mellow showers
Opens the way for early flowers;
Then after her comes smiling May,
In a more rich and sweet array;
Next enters June, and brings us more
Gems than those two that went before;
Then, lastly, July comes, and she
More wealth brings in than all those three.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Sonnet: On Deforestation
What heart of stone dare lift an axe to strike,
And fell a tree thats young, green, and mighty?
And when the act is over, what dislike,
Shouldst fill the heart of Nature, Almighty?
Who sows the seeds and grows the forest-trees?
Who brings the Rain and makes the flowers fruit?
Who makes the leaves, nuts fall in Autumn's breeze?
Forests made over years, in days men loot!
Deforestation is an act unkind;
That men keep doing foolishly for long;
Such men are insane, doing things off mind;
Afforestation sans, 'tis very wrong.
How can men rid the earth of greenery?
No man can live in such a scenery.
poem by John Celes
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Lilac Wine
I lost myself on a cool damp night
I gave myself in that misty light
Was hypnotized by a strange delight
Under a lilac tree
I made wine from the lilac tree
Put my heart in its recipe
It makes me see what I want to see
And be what I want to be
When I think more than I want to think
Do things I never should do
I drink much more that I ought to drink
Because it brings me back you
Lilac wine is sweet and heady,
Like my love
Lilac wine, I feel unsteady,
Like my love
Listen to me, I cannot see clearly
Isnt that she, coming to me
Nearly here
Lilac wine is sweet and heady,
Wheres my love
Lilac wine, I feel unsteady,
Wheres my love
Listen to me, why is everything so hazy
Isnt that she, or am I just going crazy, dear
Lilac wine, I feel unready for my love
Feel unready, for my love.
song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hear The Music Of The Pines
Hear the music of the pines—
Murmuring through the climbing vines,
Sighing through the tree tops high,
Floating upward to the sky,
Then descending where I lie—
Hear the music of the pines!
What sweet thoughts the music brings,
What new gladness from it springs—
As reclining, in a dream,
Watch I, listless, a sunbeam
Dancing on the silvery stream—
What sweet thoughts the music brings!
Hear the music of the pines!
How it 'round my fancy twines—
While fragrances of flowers fill
All the pulses of my will
As I, lingering, linger still—
Hear the music of the pines!
poem by Timothy Thomas Fortune
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