Pippa's Song
The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew-pearl'd;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in His heaven--
All's right with the world!
poem by Robert Browning
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Related quotes
The Year's at the Spring
The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew-pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in his Heaven—
All's right with the world!
poem by Robert Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Snail Goes To Heaven (A One-Act Tragicomedy)
Bare stage. A square neon sign on extreme right which reads: “This way to Heaven”.
Prolonged silence. Enter Snail, moving very slowly throughout the play.
Snail:
I’m a dead snail.
I’m going to Heaven.
I’ve lived for 15 years.
That’s a ripe old age.
I’ve been blessed.
Had a marvellous sex life, you know.
Well, if you know snails
we attract a mate with our slime.
Oh, slime turns me on, baby.
(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)
Well, maybe I should focus on holy thoughts.
Purity...refined thoughts...you know...
Snail God does not like sex.
Copulation is not exactly what
Snail God meant when Snail God declared:
'Go forth and slime the world;
be ye together...'
Snail God demands purity
so let me be so...
after all, I’m going to Heaven...
a dead snail and moving on to Heaven...
(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)
Had a precarious life,
you know,
all these 15 years...
A farmer saw me in the grass.
I heard him curse
and he raised his foot to crush me.
Well, unfortunately for him
he stepped on a snake
and the last I heard of the man
was an expletive
and the last I heard of the snake was a hiss.
Yes, I’ve had a long life
a risky life - but it’s all worth it
for an eternal life in Heaven
is my reward
(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)
(Enter Frog, jumping. Snail looks at Frog in amazement. And Frog stops and looks at Snail in amazement.)
Frog: What are you doing?
Snail: That’s what I was about to ask of you.
Frog: I’m a dead Frog and I’m jumping on my way to Heaven.
Snail: I’m a dead Snail and I’m moving on to Heaven.
Frog: This is ridiculous.
Snail: Indeed. It is ridiculous.
A Frog going to Heaven?
No, for it is truly declared by Snail God:
'None but Snails shall enter Heaven.'
Frog: And in the words of the Frog God:
'I shall confound all other creatures.
Only Frogs shall enter Heaven.'
And so it has come to pass
Snails think they can go to Heaven.
Unless the Frog God
in Its Infinite Wisdom
has arranged for a Dish of Snails
when all Pure Frogs are at Its side in Paradise.
Well, Snail...you’re toast when I see you in Heaven.
(Frog jumps on to near stage right, screaming: “Heaven - here I come! ” and then disappears.)
(Long silence.)
Snail (facing audience) : Well, what next? - The snake to Heaven?
The Farmer to Heaven? His dog to Paradise?
Donkeys to Heaven?
(Snail moves on, in its slow way, to nothing but Heaven...)
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Thorn In My Side
Thorn in, my side.
And you live just to pull me down.
Rusted, nail I stepped on.
This infection.
Thorn in my side.
Youre full,
I think so,
of anger.
You need to sit down,
stay down.
The things you, want but dont get.
Is that fair, I dont think so.
A sure thing, you can count, on.
A big depression.
A thorn in my side.
Youre full,
I think so,
of anger.
You need to.
Your praise, is two faced,
And youre,
youre cut down,
my friend.
Cut Down.
(One, two, three, four by Sergio Vega)
A thorn in my side, thorn in.
A thorn in my side, thorn in.
song performed by by Quicksand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Year In Heaven
One year in heaven,
One year you've been there,
So far away,
Someday I'll see you in the air,
One year in heaven,
I miss you so much,
Smile down upon me,
And show me your love.
One year in heaven,
It seems like so long,
Since the last time I saw you,
And then you were gone,
One year in heaven,
You left earth to soon,
But I know they need you,
More then I do,
One year in heaven,
I'm alone on the earth,
I miss your sweet kisses,
And all that you're worth,
One year in heaven,
Is God really there?
Why did he take you,
As I cried in despair.
One year in heaven,
I still see your face,
The day that you took,
The last breath you would take,
One year in heaven,
Why did you die,
I know God needed you,
But still I cry.
One year in heaven,
Soon I'll be there,
So wait by the gate,
Please, this do swear,
One year in heaven,
To me it is long,
But you have no pain,
From this earth you have gone.
One year in heaven,
It's so hard to move on,
I'll send you a prayer,
And sing you a song,
One year in heaven,
Life's not the same,
Since you left this world,
I'm living in a daze.
One year in heaven,
You watch from above,
Sit there and smile,
And send me your love,
One year in heaven,
You may think it's just a day,
But this world is so different,
Since God took you away
poem by Michele Weston
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The Spring Market’s Worn - OR - 'Sell In May And Go Away
The spring market’s worn,
intraday charts hearts warn;
by evening at seven
all margin’s in pawn.
The lark’s lost its (s) wing
though some siren still sing, -
no God and no heaven -
all's wrong, buyers mourn!
The worm’s in the bud,
the spring sees fall’s thud,
cheek earns cheeks too dew-pearl’d,
earns gold turned to mud.
Rosy tassels are torn,
nosy hassles are born,
thorny protests are hurled,
cosy nest-eggs o’er-drawn.
Markdown sours everything -
triple witching hour’s sting -
stockmarket wrings hands
hope at bell’s ring disbands.
Bears fête, bulls foresworn,
short sale corners scorn,
the blue flags are furled -
all’s red with the world!
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Sky-Lark
THE Sky-lark, when the dews of morn
Hang tremulous on flower and thorn,
And violets round his nest exhale
Their fragrance on the early gale,
To the first sunbeam spreads his wings,
Buoyant with joy, and soars, and sings.
He rests not on the leafy spray,
To warble his exulting lay,
But high above the morning cloud
Mounts in triumphant freedom proud,
And swells, when nearest to the sky,
His notes of sweetest ecstacy.
Thus, my Creator! thus the more
My spirit's wing to Thee can soar,
The more she triumphs to behold
Thy love in all thy works unfold,
And bids her hymns of rapture be
Most glad, when rising most to Thee!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Gulf Coast Highway (feat. Willie Nelson)
(Nanci Griffith)
Gulf coast highway, he worked the rails
He worked the rice fields with their cold dark wells
He worked the oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico
The only thing we've owned is this old house here by the road
And when he dies he says he'll catch some blackbird's wing
And we will fly away to heaven
Come some sweet blue bonnet spring
She walked through springtime when I was home
The days were sweet, our nights were warm
The seasons changed, the jobs would come
The flowers fade, and this old house felt so alone
When the work took me away
And when she dies she says she'll catch some blackbird's wing
And she will fly away to heaven
Come some sweet blue bonnet spring
Highway 90, the jobs are gone
We kept our garden, we set the sun
This is the only place on Earth blue bonnets grow
And once a year they come and go
At this old house here by the road
And when we die we say we'll catch some blackbird's wing
And we will fly away to heaven
Come some sweet blue bonnet spring
Yes when we die we say we'll catch some blackbird's wing
And we will fly away together
Come some sweet blue bonnet spring
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gulf Coast Highway
(nanci griffith)
Gulf coast highway, he worked the rails
He worked the rice fields with their cold dark wells
He worked the oil rigs in the gulf of mexico
The only thing weve owned is this old house here by the road
And when he dies he says hell catch some blackbirds wing
And we will fly away to heaven
Come some sweet blue bonnet spring
She walked through springtime when I was home
The days were sweet, our nights were warm
The seasons changed, the jobs would come
The flowers fade, and this old house felt so alone
When the work took me away
And when she dies she says shell catch some blackbirds wing
And she will fly away to heaven
Come some sweet blue bonnet spring
Highway 90, the jobs are gone
We kept our garden, we set the sun
This is the only place on earth blue bonnets grow
And once a year they come and go
At this old house here by the road
And when we die we say well catch some blackbirds wing
And we will fly away to heaven
Come some sweet blue bonnet spring
Yes when we die we say well catch some blackbirds wing
And we will fly away together
Come some sweet blue bonnet spring
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Spring
THIS morning at the door
I heard the Spring.
Quickly I set it wide
And, welcoming,
'Come in, sweet Spring,' I cried,
'The winter ash, long dried,
Waits but your breath to rise
On phantom wing.'
A brown leaf shivered by,
A soulless thing--
My heart in quick dismay
Forgot to sing--
Twisted and grim it lay,
Kin to the ghost-ash gray,
Dead, dead--strange herald this
Of jocund Spring!
I spurned it from the door.
I longed that Spring
Should come with song and glow
And rush of wing,
Not this, not this!--But O
Dead leaf, a year ago
You were the dear first-born
Of Hope and Spring!
poem by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
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Hard Headed Woman
(words & music by claude demetruis)
Well a hard headed woman,
A soft hearted man
Been the cause of trouble
Ever since the world began.
Oh yeah, ever since the world began
A hard headed woman been
A thorn in the side of man.
Now adam told to eve,
Listen here to me,
Dont you let me catch you
Messin round that apple tree.
Oh yeah, ever since the world began
A hard headed woman been
A thorn in the side of man.
Now samson told delilah
Loud and clear,
Keep your cotton pickin fingers
Out my curly hair.
Oh yeah, ever since the world began
A hard headed woman been
A thorn in the side of man.
I heard about a king
Who was doin swell
Till he started playing
With that evil jezebel.
Oh yeah, ever since the world began
A hard headed woman been a thorn in the side of man.
I got a woman,
A head like a rock.
If she ever went away
Id cry around the clock.
Oh yeah, ever since the world began
A hard headed woman been
A thorn in the side of man.
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Their Hearts Were Full Of Spring
Theres a story told of a very gentle boy
And the girl who wore his ring
Through the wintery snow
The world they knew was one
For their hearts were full of spring
As the days grew old
And the nights passed into time
And the weeks and years took wind
Gentle boy, tender girl
Their love remained still young
For their hearts were full of spring
Then one day they died
And their graves were side by side
On a hill where robins sing
And they say violets
Grow there the whole year round
For their hearts were full of spring
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O Singer in Brown
O, singer in brown!
O, bird o' th' morn!
O, heart of delight
In th' deep o' th' thorn!
Glad is thy song
Thou joy o' th' morn,
Thou palpitant throat
In the heart o' th' thorn!
Thy song of the nest,
O, sweet o' th' morn!
A nest and an egg
In the thick o' th' thorn.
poem by Dame Mary Gilmore
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7 Weeks
Go
So your still the same, there's nothing left in me
Do you really think that we could save this?
Now get off your feet and really do something
Do you really think it matters anyway?
You said that we were fine, your lying all this time
Your the thorn that's in my side
7 weeks go by, it's so hard to say goodbye
Take your thorn
Take your pills so you can feel more of this and more of me
Don't shut that door in my face
Do you really it matters?
Do you really think it matters anyway?
You said that we were fine, your lying all this time
Your the thorn that's in my side
7 weeks go by, it's so hard to say goodbye
Take your thorn out of my side
My side, my side
Take your thorn out of my side
My side, my side
Take your thorn out of my side
You said that we were fine, your lying all this time
Your the thorn that's in my side
7 weeks go by, it's so hard to say goodbye
Take your thorn out of my side
Side
Go
song performed by by Inme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great May
Who said the Spring was dead?
She would not come again,
Dust on her starry head,
For a sad world in pain?
The thing they have said in vain,
She comes new garlanded:
Lovely on hill and plain
Her lights, her flowers are shed.
Never was such a May!
Mercy of God, to prove
Life springs from the clay
And every treasured love
Walks in a heavenly grove.
The Lord God's holiday
To the soft coo of the dove
With the young lambs at play.
Lo! yours, and yours, are there,
I see them leap and run
In a May-world past compare
Whereof our God is sun.
They rejoice, yea, every one
In the ambient light and air,
Their pleasures are not done
From morn till evening star.
Never was such a Spring!
Oh, you whose eyes are wet,
Listen, take comforting,
Our God does not forget.
Poor folk that fear and fret
Your hours are on the wing
To the loves that wait you yet,
Raised up and triumphing.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Child's Last Sleep
Thou sleepest but when wilt thou wake, fair child?
When the fawn awakes in the forest wild?
When the lark's wing mounts with the breeze of morn?
When the first rich breath of the rose is born?
Lovely thou sleepest, yet something lies
Too deep and still on thy soft-seal'd eyes,
Mournful, tho' sweet, is thy rest to see
When will the hour of thy rising be?
Not when the fawn wakes, not when the lark
On the crimson cloud of the morn floats dark
Grief with vain passionate tears hath wet
The hair, shedding gleams from thy pale brow yet;
Love with sad kisses, unfelt, hath press'd
Thy meek dropt eyelids and quiet breast;
And the glad spring, calling out bird and bee,
Shall colour all blossoms, fair child! but thee.
Thou'rt gone from us, bright one! that thou shouldst die,
And life be left to the butterfly!
Thou'rt gone, as a dew-drop is swept from the bough
Oh! for the world where thy home is now!
How may we love but in doubt and fear,
How may we anchor our fond hearts here;
How should e'en joy but a trembler be,
Beautiful dust! when we look on thee?
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Poem In October
It was my thirtieth year to heaven
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
And the mussel pooled and the heron
Priested shore
The morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall
Myself to set foot
That second
In the still sleeping town and set forth.
My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
Above the farms and the white horses
And I rose
In rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
Over the border
And the gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke.
A springful of larks in a rolling
Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
Blackbirds and the sun of October
Summery
On the hill's shoulder,
Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly
Come in the morning where I wandered and listened
To the rain wringing
Wind blow cold
In the wood faraway under me.
Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
And over the sea wet church the size of a snail
With its horns through mist and the castle
Brown as owls
But all the gardens
Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
There could I marvel
My birthday
Away but the weather turned around.
It turned away from the blithe country
And down the other air and the blue altered sky
Streamed again a wonder of summer
With apples
Pears and red currants
And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
Through the parables
Of sun light
And the legends of the green chapels
And the twice told fields of infancy
That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.
These were the woods the river and sea
Where a boy
In the listening
Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy
To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide.
And the mystery
Sang alive
Still in the water and singingbirds.
And there could I marvel my birthday
Away but the weather turned around. And the true
Joy of the long dead child sang burning
In the sun.
It was my thirtieth
Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon
Though the town below lay leaved with October blood.
O may my heart's truth
Still be sung
On this high hill in a year's turning.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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A highly valuable chain of thoughts
HAD cigarettes no ashes,
And roses ne'er a thorn,
No man would be a funker
Of whin, or burn, or bunker.
There were no need for mashies,
The turf would ne'er be torn,
Had cigarettes no ashes,
And roses ne'er a thorn.
Had cigarettes no ashes,
And roses ne'er a thorn,
The big trout would not ever
Escape into the river.
No gut the salmon smashes
Would leave us all forlorn,
Had cigarettes no ashes,
And roses ne'er a thorn.
But 'tis an unideal
Sad world in which we're born,
And things will 'go contrairy'
With Martin and with Mary:
And every day the real
Comes bleakly in with morn,
And cigarettes have ashes,
And every rose a thorn.
poem by Andrew Lang
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A Parting
The year is on the wing, my love,
With tearful days and nights;
The clouds are on the wing above
With gathering swallow-flights.
The year is on the wing, my sweet,
And in the ghostly race,
With patter of unnumbered feet,
The dead leaves fly apace.
The year is on the wing, and shakes
The last rose from its tree;
And I, whose heart in parting breaks,
Must bid adieu to thee.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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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!
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!