My Lady Of Castle Grand
Gray is the palace where she dwells,
Grimly the poplars stand
There by the window where she sits,
My Lady of Castle Grand.
There does she bide the livelong day,
Grim as the poplars are,
Ever her gaze goes reaching out,
Steady, but vague and far.
Bright burn the fires in the castle hall,
Brightly the fire-dogs stand;
But cold is the body and cold the heart
Of my Lady of Castle Grand.
Blue are the veins in her lily-white hands,
Blue are the veins in her brow;
Thin is the line of her blue drawn lips,
Who would be haughty now?
Pale is the face at the window-pane,
Pale as the pearl on her breast,
'Roderick, love, wilt come again?
Fares he to east or west?'
The shepherd pipes to the shepherdess,
The bird to his mate in the tree,
And ever she sighs as she hears their song,
'Nobody sings for me.'
The scullery maids have swains enow
Who lead them the way of love,
But lonely and loveless their mistress sits
At her window up above.
Loveless and lonely she waits and waits,
The saddest in all the land;
Ah, cruel and lasting is love-blind pride,
My Lady of Castle Grand.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Related quotes
Elvaston Castle
In a Derbyshire county stands one castle grand
In all its three hundred acres of land
This gothic castle is in need of love and care
Needs no entrepreneur to rip it all bare
Wyatt designed the great gothic hall
With ceiling so high you gaze in aw
Elvaston castle claim no name to fame
But it must stay in the public domain
It needs no golf course to ruin the land
It needs no hotel to make it look grand
All that it needs is some love and care
So the people of Derby can always go there
18 04 2009
Chellaston
poem by Jim O'Donnell
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St. Margaret's Eve
Saint Margaret's Eve it did befall,
The waves roll so gayly O,
The tide came creeping up the wall,
Love me true!
I opened my gate; who there should stand--
The waves roll so gayly O,
But a fair lady, with a cup in her hand,
Love me true!
The cup was gold, and full of wine,
The waves roll so gayly O,
'Drink,' said the lady, 'and I will be thine,'
Love me true!
'Enter my castle, lady fair,'
The waves roll so gayly O,
'You shall be queen of all that's there,'
Love me true!
A gray old harper sang to me,
The waves roll so gayly O,
'Beware of the Damsel of the Sea!'
Love me true!
In hall he harpeth many a year,
The waves roll so gayly O,
And we will sit his song to hear,
Love me true!
'I love thee deep, I love thee true,'
The waves roll so gayly O,
'But ah! I know not how to woo,'
Love me true!
Down dashed the cup, with a sudden shock,
The waves roll so gayly O,
The wine like blood ran over the rock,
Love me true!
She said no word, but shrieked aloud,
The waves roll so gayly O,
And vanished away from where she stood,
Love me true!
I locked and barred my castle door,
The waves roll so gayly O,
Three summer days I grieved sore,
Love me true!
For myself a day, a night,
The waves roll so gayly O,
And two to moan that lady bright,
Love me true!
poem by William Allingham
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At My Window Sad And Lonely
At my window, sad and lonely
Oft times do I think of thee
Sad and lonely and I wonder
Do you ever think of me
Every day is sad and lonely
And every night is sad and blue
Do you ever think of me my darling
As you sail that ocean blue
At my window, sad and lonely
I stand and look across the sea
And I sad and lonely wonder
Do you ever think of me
Will you find another sweetheart
In some far and distant land
Sad and lonely now I wonder
If our boat will ever land
Ships may ply the stormy ocean
And planes may fly the stormy sky
I'm sad and lonely but remember
Oh I'll love you till I die
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Holding On Climbing Up
This mountain
So steep, so high
My nerves are aching
On I move with resolve.
My soul urges
Up the mountain sits
My holy castle, Highness
That waits.
I see the castle
A majesty that waits
Holding on, climbing up
Down, spreads, beautifully!
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Lady Jane
Sapphics.
Down the green hill-side fro' the castle window
Lady Jane spied Bill Amaranth a-workin';
Day by day watched him go about his ample
Nursery garden.
Cabbages thriv'd there, wi' a mort o' green-stuff—
Kidney beans, broad beans, onions, tomatoes,
Artichokes, seakale, vegetable marrows,
Early potatoes.
Lady Jane cared not very much for all these:
What she cared much for was a glimpse o' Willum
Strippin' his brown arms wi' a view to horti-
—Cultural effort.
Little guessed Willum, never extra-vain, that
Up the green hill-side, i' the gloomy castle,
Feminine eyes could so delight to view his
Noble proportions.
Only one day while, in an innocent mood,
Moppin' his brow ('cos 'twas a trifle sweaty)
With a blue kerchief—lo, he spies a white 'un
Coyly responding.
Oh, delightsome Love! Not a jot do you care
For the restrictions set on human inter-
-course by cold-blooded social refiners;
Nor do I, neither.
Day by day, peepin' fro' behind the bean-sticks,
Willum observed that scrap o' white a-wavin',
Till his hot sighs out-growin' all repression
Busted his weskit.
Lady Jane's guardian was a haughty Peer, who
Clung to old creeds and had a nasty temper;
Can we blame Willum that he hardly cared to
Risk a refusal?
Year by year found him busy 'mid the bean-sticks,
Wholly uncertain how on earth to take steps.
Thus for eighteen years he beheld the maiden
Wave fro' her window.
But the nineteenth spring, i' the Castle post-bag,
Came by book-post Bill's catalogue o' seedlings
Mark'd wi' blue ink at 'Paragraphs relatin'
Mainly to Pumpkins.'
'W. A. can,' so the Lady Jane read,
'Strongly commend that very noble Gourd, the
Lady Jane, first-class medal, ornamental;
Grows to a great height.'
Scarce a year arter, by the scented hedgerows—
Down the mown hill-side, fro' the castle gateway—
Came a long train and, i' the midst, a black bier,
Easily shouldered.
'Whose is yon corse that, thus adorned wi' gourd-leaves,
Forth ye bear with slow step?' A mourner answer'd,
''Tis the poor clay-cold body Lady Jane grew
Tired to abide in.'
'Delve my grave quick, then, for I die to-morrow.
Delve it one furlong fro' the kidney bean-sticks,
Where I may dream she's goin' on precisely
As she was used to.'
Hardly died Bill when, fro' the Lady Jane's grave,
Crept to his white death-bed a lovely pumpkin:
Climb'd the house wall and over-arched his head wi'
Billowy verdure.
Simple this tale!—but delicately perfumed
As the sweet roadside honeysuckle. That's why,
Difficult though its metre was to tackle,
I'm glad I wrote it.
poem by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
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Scarlatti
last night
locked in
the castle
of pride and
egotism
goes on two
legs
Webern
orchestrated a
sky the clouds
move to a
bass
on
an instrument not
an oboe, gray
on light-gray in
blue and green
goes by
on glass
Schoenberg
serenades with
a view through
to where
a girl
swings
her
body displaced
against the
pull of her
hands head-
high on the
ropes
night
before the night
before last
unlocked the castle
of pride and
egotism
bliss
clouds stand
and go by
poem by James Marcus Schuyler
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To Alice-Sit-By-The-Hour
Lady in the blue kimono, you that live across the way,
One may see you gazing, gazing gazing all the livelong day,
Idly looking out your window from your vantage point above.
Are you convalescent, lady? Are you worse? Are you in love?
Ever gazing, as you hang there on the little window seat,
Into flats across the way or down upon the prosy street,
Can't you rent a pianola? Can't you iron, sew, or cook?
Write a letter, bake a pudding, make a bed or read a book?
Tell me of the fascination you indubitably find
In the "High Cash Cloe's!" man's holler in the hurdy-gurdy grind.
Are your Spanish castles blue prints? Are you waiting for a knight
To descend upon your fastness and to save you from your plight?
Lady in the blue kimono, idle mollycoddle dame,
Does your doing nothing never make you feel the blush of shame?
As you sit and stare and ditto, not a single thing to do,
Lady in the blue kimono, lady, how I envy you!
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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My Castle In A Tree
As the sweet rain smears the watercolor world
And the beams of sunshine are stirred into it
As the trees ripple and splash around me
And my knees melt into the ground
The enormous trunk looms before me
My castle in a tree
Roots run in muscular veins down the mammoth redwood
They are the perfect staircase for me to ascend
As my swollen tears float off to space
The castle doors open to greet me
And my face is bathed in lamplight from within
My castle in a tree
The walls breathe a sigh of welcome
Flames leap onto every white wax candle
I take off my sandals so that my ancient feet
Warm the polished wooden floor
The world, it shivers before me in
My castle in a tree
The leaves, they let the sunlight in
But guard me from the things that lurk
Just beyond the edge of the earth
So that he not a one can see me
And there is not a thing at all to remember in
My castle in a tree
At once it evaporates into the golden sky
My hands and legs enflame before me
All the world is drowned in blackness and
Leaves not a single silver bubble
This is the death, the murder of
My castle in a tree
poem by Christopher R. Kennedy
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Rich And Poor
By the castle-gate my lady stands,
Viewing broad acres and spreading lands.
Hill and valley and mead and plain
Are all her own, with their wealth of grain.
In the richest of rich robes she is dressed,
A jewel blazes upon her breast;
And her brow is decked with a diadem
That glitters with many a precious gem.
But what to the Lady Wendoline
Rich satin garments or jewels fine?
Or ripening harvests, or spreading lands-
See! she is wringing her milk-white hands!
And her finger is stained with crimson dew
Where the ring with the diamond star cut through.
And a look of pain and wild despair
Rests on the face, so young and fair.
To-morrow will be her bridal day,
And she will barter herself away
For added wealth and a titled name;
'Tis the curse of her station, and whose the blame!
She loathes the man who will call her wife,
And moans o'er her hapless, loveless life.
The joys of wooing she cannot know;
My lord, her father, has willed it so.
She's a piece of merchandise, bought and sold
For name, position, and bags of gold.
But people must wed in their own degree,
Though hearts may break in their agony.
Under the hill, in the castle's shade,
At a cottage door sits an humble maid;
In her cheek the blushes come and go
As she stitches away on a robe like snow;
And she sings aloud in her happiness-
In a joy she cannot hide or repress.
Close at her side her lover stands,
Watching the nimble, sun-browned hands
As they draw the needle to and fro
Through the robe as white as drift of snow.
Both hearts are singing a wordless lay,
For the morrow will be their bridal day.
They have only their hands, their love, their health,
In place of title, position, and wealth.
But which is the rich, and which the poor,
The maid at the gate, or the maid in the door?
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Troubadours
From the ancient sun to the old heart stove come the troubadours
From the city gates to the castle walls its the troubadours
On a sunlit day it was bright and clear
And the people came from far and they came from near
To hear the troubadours
Well the troubadours sang their songs of love to the lady fair
She was sitting outside on a balcony in in the cool night air
It was a starry night the moon was shining bright
And the trumpets rang and they gave a chime
For the troubadours
And for everyman all across the land and from shore to shore
They came singin songs of love and chivalry from the days of yore
Baby lift your window high do you hear that sound
Its the troubadours as they go through town
Baby lift your window high do you hear that sound
Its the troubadours with their freedom song
Lift your window high turn your lamp down low baby
Dont you know I love you so
Lift your window high do you dig that sound
Its the troubadours coming through town
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brodie Castle
The following sonnet on Brodie Castle Nairnshire, Scotland, was written
by my venerable Uncle, Thomas McIntyre, of St. Catherines, and father
of John B. McIntyre, Ex-Grand Master of the Independant Order of Odd
-fellows, and now, and for many years, an Alderman of the city of
St. Catherines. It was written by him as an acrostic on the words Brodie
Castle. I have taken the liberty of transfusing it into common verse. The
lines prove the old gentlemen to be kind hearted and as having a great
affection for his native land. He has been in. St. Catherines for half a
century, engaged in the same business I have been employed in for
about one-third of a century, in Ingersoll.
Scotland has produced three great shepherds
Talford, the inventor of Suspension Bridges,
Ferguson, the Astronomer, and Hogg the
Ettrick shepherd, the great song writer.
Brodie Castle,ever dear to my heart,
For there I first played my humble part.
When only thirteen, I there had employ.
In the position of a shepherd boy ;
For I was born on that fine estate,
Famed for its trees, so lofty and great,
And its magnificent avenue grand,
Which hath been famed over the land.
And, though I did leave to learn my trade,
And in Western world a home I have made,
Yet, whan I look back, my heart it still cheers,
Though it is now more than threescore years.
Since first I went there as a shepherd boy,
Thoughts of the time fill my heart yet with joy,
Though, that I ne'er shall see Castle more,
Fond memory reverts to the days of yore.
poem by James McIntyre
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Passing The Time
By ginger baker and mike taylor
It is a cold winter,
Away is the songbird.
And gone is her traveller,
She waits at home.
The sun is on holiday,
No leaves on the trees.
The animals sleep
While cold north wind blows.
The snowflakes are falling,
The roof a white blanket.
Theres ice on the window pane,
She waits alone.
She sits by the fireside,
The room is so warm.
Her children are sleeping,
She waits in their home.
Passing the time.
Passing the time.
Everything fine.
Passing the time, drinking red wine.
Passing the time, drinking red wine.
Passing the time, drinking red wine.
Passing the time, everything fine.
Passing the time, drinking red wine.
Passing the time, everything fine.
Passing the time, wine and time rhyme.
Passing the time.
It is a long winter,
Away is the summer.
She waits for her traveller
So far from home.
She sits by the fireside,
The room is so warm.
Theres ice on the window,
Shes lonely alone.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Passing The Time
By ginger baker and mike taylor
It is a cold winter,
Away is the songbird.
And gone is her traveller,
She waits at home.
The sun is on holiday,
No leaves on the trees.
The animals sleep
While cold north wind blows.
The snowflakes are falling,
The roof a white blanket.
Theres ice on the window pane,
She waits alone.
She sits by the fireside,
The room is so warm.
Her children are sleeping,
She waits in their home.
Passing the time.
Passing the time.
Everything fine.
Passing the time, drinking red wine.
Passing the time, drinking red wine.
Passing the time, drinking red wine.
Passing the time, everything fine.
Passing the time, drinking red wine.
Passing the time, everything fine.
Passing the time, wine and time rhyme.
Passing the time.
It is a long winter,
Away is the summer.
She waits for her traveller
So far from home.
She sits by the fireside,
The room is so warm.
Theres ice on the window,
Shes lonely alone.
song performed by by Cream
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Castle in the Sand
I built castle in the sand
Reaching to the far off land
I gathered the sand to mount it high
Thinking to built a castle in the sky
But fate took a different path
The castle I had built was down at last
The breeze blew
The castle flew...
I now sit here all alone
Gathering the sand to rebuild a home
But what a dream I did see
To always have him near by me
poem by Meena Mustafa
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Lonely Lady #17
Lonely lady one, she run away.
And number two, she do the same.
Lady number three walk out on me
Like number four.
Whos keeping score?
Lady five, oh how she lied.
She made me pay some dues.
Six and seven, eight, nine, ten,
They really were bad news.
Oh no, theyd only break my heart.
Thats how it seems.
And then I finally came upon
A lady seventeen.
Lonely lady number seventeen,
She stayed a while.
She had the style.
Lonely lady number seventeen,
She got to be with lonely me.
Lonely, lonely lady number seventeen, yeah.
Lonely lady!
Ladies eleven, twelve and thirteen,
They came and went.
Baby, I still can hear them sayin
Its time to repent.
I turned around,
And there she was
With such a sweet surprise:
A lovin face,
Lovin smile,
And love lights in her eyes.
Lonely lady number seventeen,
You stayed a while.
You had the style.
Lonely lady number seventeen,
Come on and be
With lonely me
Oh no, when lady fourteen walked out,
Thats when I screamed.
No luck with lady fifteen
Or sweet sixteen.
But lonely lady number seventeen,
You stayed a while.
You had the style.
Lonely lady number seventeen,
Come on an be
With lonely me.
Lonely, lonely lady
Number seventeen, yeah!
Lonely lady!
She makes me feel so sociable
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vines Collide
Looking out my castle window and what do I see,
bright green vines growing up a tree.
Vines are now climbing up my screens,
they form a web to protect me.
From the Troll that lurks outside,
He lives under a bridge is where he does resides.
Now Troll was forbidden to enter the castle once again,
He did not keep his word so he lost his princess friend,
Princess Melodie who does stay inside,
looking out her window where all vines collide,
Collide into each other so they will hide,
the princess’s magic castle where you will find.
Find all sorts of magic books that she has written,
Troll wants to be in one, for he is smitten.
Yes, troll you will know,
that soon it will be sold,
the Story of how the vines did grow,
to keep you out with your Big Stubby toe.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 9,2011
www.purplepoems.com www.suzaechevalier.com
www.christinasunrise.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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The Fairy Castle
There's a fairy castle, in my backyard,
It's spires reaching upward, towards the sky.
It's blue green spines pointy and hard,
One little stab will make you want to cry.
It stretches fifteen feet, into the air,
Majestic in the setting sun.
A king of the desert noble and fair,
An impenetrable fortress, to all but one.
Up in the topmost spires a thrush,
Has made her simple home.
In between the stems that squeeze and crush,
On her nest she's sitting all alone.
Without a worry in the world she rests,
And in her bed she sings and nestles.
While her mate dozes near the nest,
Happy within, their fairy castle.
The fairy castle is of the genus night blooming Cereus.
This particular specimen, is from the Mojave in Arizona,
And is about fifteen feet high, armed to the teeth.
poem by Juan Olivarez
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A Mansion On The Hill
Hank williams
Tonight down here in the valley
Im lonesome and oh, how I feel
As I sit here alone in your cabin
I can see your mansion on the hill
Do you remember when we parted?
The story to me you revealed
You said you could live without love, dear
In your loveless mansion on the hill
Ive waited all through the years. love
To give you a heart true and real
Cos I know you are living in sorrow
In your loveless mansion on the hill
The light shines bright from your window
The trees stand so silent and still
I know youre alone with your pride, dear
In your loveless mansion on the hill
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lady in White
Lady in White
By: Adam M. Snow
She stares at me benevolently with her baby blue eyes.
How beautiful she looks, that lady in white.
I try to go on my way, but I hear her gentle cries.
I reached out to help her, but she simply vanished in the night.
Who is this that they call 'Ghost? ' my lovely Lady in White;
and do you know? Could you tell me why does my Lady cry?
Where upon nightfall approaches;
returned to the splintered bridge, where portraits my Lady in White;
only to find her crying, waiting for her lost love.
Truly this is an undesirable sight;
tears fall as she gaze essentially at stars above.
I only wish I could help her, my lovely Lady in White;
to lead her home into the light;
truly it can only be by her might.
I must go on my way and leave my Lady behind.
She's there to stay crying; waiting for her love to return.
Though my heart, I feel her tears fall upon.
From my Lady, there's so much that I learn;
that love never dies, it just lives on.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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Mama
Mama’s face
is smooth and pale as tea-rose leaves.
That ivory oval of aunt Gem
you sucked the miniature off
had black black hair like mama.
Pit-it-ty-pat,
Mama walks so fast,
street lamps jig
without bending a leg…
lights in the windows
play twinkling tunes
on crimson and blue
bottles like bubbles
big as balloons…
Faster and faster…
and pink light spurts
over cakes doing polkas
in little white shirts,
with cake-princesses
in flounced white skirts.
Pit-pat—
mama walks slower…
slower and… slower…
Eyes… lamps… stars…
acres and acres of stars…
bells… and sleepily
flapping feet….
You’re glad mama walks slow.
It’s nice to be carried along
up high near the stars
that look at you with a grave, great look.
Every night
mama sings you to sleep.
When she sings, O for the light of thine eyes Dolores,
there’s a castle on a cliff
and the sea roars like lions.
It leaps at the castle
and the cliff knocks it down
but always the sea
shakes its flattened head
and gets up again.
The castle has no roof
so the rain spins silvery webs in it,
and Dolores’ face
floats dim and beautiful
the way flowers do when they are drowned.
Step by white step
she goes up the castle stairs,
but the stair goes up into the sky
and the sky keeps going up too,
and none of them ever get there.
When mama sings Ba ba black sheep,
the stars seem to shine through her voice
so everything has to be still,
and when she has finished singing
her song goes up off the earth,
higher and higher…
till it is only as big as a tiny silver bird
with nothing but moonlight around it.
poem by Lola Ridge
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