For Lillian
She was so dear, so fair. Her memory stays,
Even her dying robs me not of this,
That I have walked with her in mortal ways
Whose tender beauty now immortal is.
There are sweet flowers that bloom in ways forlorn
And sad sweet eyes whose beauty is a flower
Blown in the night to which there is no morn,
Dream-born and dying in its dewy bower;
And she was such a flower, her sweet eyes such;
The secret hours that only the heart knows
Thrill with the glamour of her tone and touch
Like music that is sweetest at the close,
Falling to death as falls the fairest thing
Beyond the power of love's recovering.
poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Perfect Flower
growing out of the ground
digging deep and far
topped with beauty
emmitting the fragrance of love
brittle through the body
strong in the roots
but thats all that matters
for that keeps them going
shining its beauty
letting everyone see it
all the time
spreading its sweet smell
with everyone that comes in contact
making them happy
sorting through the flowers
searching for the only one
that can fill the hole
that he has dug
he sees it in his sight
the sweet aroma
the loving vibe
the joy it gives his heart
the beauty
the perfect flower
gently grasping it
choosing it for his taking
only a few faults show
but the beauty overshadows the faults
in his eyes nothing's better
noone could ever replace her
with this flower his hole is full
it's the perfect fit
giving this flower
radiating with its majestic beauty
to his one true love
the perfect flower to the perfect love
you're all i want
all I've ever dreamed of
and in this perfect flower
our love will live on
poem by Joshua Norton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Pastoral
On a hill there grows a flower,
Fair befall the dainty sweet!
By that flower there is a bower
Where the heavenly Muses meet.
In the bower there is a chair,
Fringed all about with gold,
Where doth sit the fairest fair
That did ever eye behold.
It is Phyllis fair and bright,
She that is the shepherds' joy;
She that Venus did despite,
And did blind her little boy.
This is she, the wise, the rich,
That the world desires to see;
This is ipsa quae the which
There is none but only she.
Who would not this face admire?
Who would not this saint adore?
Who would not this sight desire,
Though he thought to see no more?
O fair eyes! yet let me see
One good look, and I am gone;
Look on me, for I am he,
Thy poor silly Corydon.
Thou that art the shepherds' queen,
Look upon thy silly swain;
By thy comfort have been seen
Dead men brought to life again.
Make him live that, dying long,
Never durst for comfort seek:
Thou shalt hear so sweet a song
Never shepherd sung the like.
poem by Nicholas Breton
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Thou Art a Flower
Thou art a flower, dear heart, a fragrant flower
And I, the wandering, hair-clad, amorous bee.
’Mongst all the regal beauties of the bower,
I seek but thee.
I feel the ivory of thy petals fair
Brush lightly on my belly as I woo
And I would sting thee, if I did but dare,
So sweet are you.
I suck the honey from your dewy bowl
And drunken mad, with wild, delirious bliss,
Within your cup, I yield to you my soul
And drink your kiss.
Oh! petals sweet, close in and crush me dead.
I am consumed in flames of passion’s fire.
What else is left, when this dear hour hath fled.
But dead desire?
The juice of poppy flowers and breath of rose,
Wistaria’s purple, blood-flecked lilies white,
I pilfer and when, soft, your petals close,
When comes the night.
I pour the passions of the world of flowers
Deep in beyond the lips of quivering red.
Your life is mine to craze the trembling hours,
All else is dead.
poem by from The Point of View
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Beautiful Flower
I have a flower, Yes I have picked a beautiful flower,
One with greatest strength like a tree with mightiness and power,
Power of faith beyond any measure,
Yet precious and few like a beautiful treasure.
How precious its love it shares,
How very precious sweet and rare.
Easily lost as colors are tossed on the tides,
For those who tend to set it aside.
Beauty beyond their eye’s is what I have gained as a prize,
And keeping it, is what makes my heart so wise.
It may seem like neglect on their part,
But neglect has not been the wish of their heart.
Why so often many are in a rush,
The beauty of this flower is often a hush.
I praise my flower for its humbleness,
Staying that way always brings forth its beautifulness.
Yes my flower that I have I would gladly share,
To those who appreciate my gift that is rare.
This flower is a gift and I will tell you why,
Because its known for its beauty that will never die.
For if my flower and me ever depart,
The beauty of it will always be found in my heart.
Yes I have a flower, a beautiful flower to name,
It would have to be beautiful,
it would have to meet its beauty inside and out the same.
For that isn’t hard to do, Why you don’t even need a clue,
For I could have never have picked a better you,
My Dear Friend (put name here)….. Its true.
A name, that’s beautiful as you.
poem by Esther Ayala
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Only Flower You Are
A sunbeam caress the only flower from my garden,
What a nice feeling, what a pleasure,
Than to admire the beauty of a flower,
And closing eyes to dream about it.
It's a sweet flower,
Which opened its petals,
To get the joyful morning dew,
And with its fragrance to stun me,
To bring into my heart its magic.
But the most beautiful flower,
That sit next to me,
It's you my love,
You are just a flower bud,
You are all i ever want to hold, ,
You are my dream transposed into reality,
You are my life, my joy.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Delia: XXXI (1592 version): Look, Delia, how we 'steem the
XXXI (
version)
Look, Delia, how we 'steem the half-blown rose,
The image of thy blush and summer's honour,
Whilst in her tender green she doth enclose
That pure sweet beauty time bestows upon her.
No sooner spreads her glory in the air
But straight her full-blown pride is in declining;
She then is scorn'd that late adorn'd the fair:
So clouds thy beauty after fairest shining.
No April can revive thy wither'd flowers,
Whose blooming grace adorns thy beauty now;
Swift speedy time, feather'd with flying hours,
Dissolves the beauty of the fairest brow.
O let not then such riches waste in vain,
But love whilst that thou mayst be lov'd again.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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Sonnet XXXIX: Look, Delia
Look, Delia, how we 'steem the half-blown Rose,
The image of thy blush and Summer's honor,
Whilst in her tender green she doth enclose
That pure sweet Beauty Time bestows upon her.
No sooner spreads her glory in the air,
But straight her full-blown pride is in declining;
She then is scorn'd that late adorn'd the Fair;
So clouds thy beauty after fairest shining.
No April can revive thy wither'd flowers,
Whose blooming grace adorns thy glory now;
Swift speedy Time, feather'd with flying hours,
Dissolves the beauty of the fairest brow.
O let not then such riches waste in vain,
But love whilst that thou mayst be lov'd again.
poem by Samuel Daniel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sweet Memories Of My Childhood Days
Sweet memories of my past
Like sweet gentle breeze upon the mast
Sweet ceaseless flow of the running stream
Sweet castles in my boyhood dream
Sweet tales of ages and places
Sweet memories of names and faces
Sweet whispering voices before dawn
Sweet ecstacies that linger on
Sweet glory of hard time overcome
Sweet hopeful days to come
Sweet cherished secret untold
Sweet tasted love of old
Sweet me, in most sweetest ways
Sweet undying memories of my childhood days! !
poem by Okonkwo Osamedua. Allen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dulcis Memoria
Long, long ago I heard a little song,
(Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?)
So lowly, slowly wound the tune along,
That far into my heart it found the way:
A melody consoling and endearing;
And still, in silent hours, I'm often hearing
The small, sweet song that does not die away.
Long, long ago I saw a little flower,--
(Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?)
So fair of face and fragrant for an hour,
That something dear to me it seemed to say:
A thought of joy that blossomed into being
Without a word; and now I'm often seeing
The friendly flower that does not fade away.
Long, long ago we had a little child,--
(Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?)
Into his mother's eyes and mine he smiled
Unconscious love; warm in our arms he lay.
An angel called! Dear heart, we could not hold him;
Yet secretly your arms and mine infold him--
Our little child who does not go away.
Long, long ago? Ah, memory, make it clear--
(It was not long ago, but yesterday,)
So little and so helpless and so dear
Let not the song be lost, the flower decay!
His voice, his waking eyes, his gentle sleeping:
The smallest things are safest in thy keeping.
Sweet memory, keep our child with us always.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sweetest Thing
The night is very dark and,
The music is dying out from the musicians;
But my hope is still on you my love.
Like the Island of El Medano,
You are the apple of my eyes;
And like the Island of El Hierro,
You are the sweetest thing that brings joy to my heart.
In the night of love,
I am stranded in my mind like a bee;
But with the heart of a baby in your lovely arms.
You are the sweetest thing that ever came to me,
And you are all that makes the night so sweet.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Sweet Tender Touch
Heartbeat, way down on cove street
Playing to lady luck, awaiting that tender touch
Fantasy is the trick of the dance you see
Hiding that need for love and wanting you close to me
Oh that one sweet and tender touch
Thats what Im missing and need so much
One sweet and tender touch
Bright light
Pretty colours that shine on all through the night
I dont need them, not half as much
As Im wanting your tender touch
And loneliness makes the strongest heart a wilderness
Thats wilder than you see, is wanting you close to me
For that one sweet and tender touch
Thats what Im missing and need so much
One sweet and tender touch
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prose to a Rose
Such A flower is the rose
Its colour bursting red
Such a flower if the rose
The flower of passion the poets often said
I could gaze upon its beauty
And not lift thine eyes
And when it closes its petals to go to sleep
A tear of sadness rises in my eyes
Such a flower is the rose
For it reminds me of you my dear
When ever I gaze upon a rose
It makes me wish you were here
Its petals are soft as thy skin
The colour like your lips
Its fragrance is sweet and pure
Like the flavor of your kiss
Such a flower is the rose it beauty
Has been endless through out time
And when ever I see a rose be reassured my love
You are for ever on my mind
poem by John A. Hancock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Desert Rose
Words and music by sting
I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand
I dream of fire
Those dreams that tie two hearts that will never die
And near the flames
The shadows play in the shape of the mans desire
This desert rose
Whose shadow bears the secret promise
This desert flower
No sweet perfume that would torture you more than this
And now she turns
This way she moves in the logic of all my dreams
This fire burns
I realize that nothings as it seems
I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand
I dream of rain
I lift my gaze to empty skies above
I close my eyes
The rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of love
I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand
Sweet desert rose
Whose shadow bears the secret promise
This desert flower
No sweet perfume that would torture you more than this
Sweet desert rose
This memory of hidden hearts and souls
This desert flower
This rare perfurme is the sweet intoxication of love
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anguish Thoughts
I saw a flower
Not so fresh, enchanting
It has no sweet smell as roses have.
But it has the thorns of roses.
If I touch a flower
I can tell its soft or rough
But all flowers are soft
Soft petals with sweet fragrance
Make a flower beloved.
But I can’t touch this flower
For it is dangerous.
But worms found its bed
And going to destroy my little flower.
Can this secret love
Destroy her crimson petals?
poem by Abdul Hakeem Parannur
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To dear KASTHURI - The Wilted Flower -Poem-2
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
POEM-2
WILTED FLOWER
Like a flower
That sweetly blooms
In the bower;
Shedding its beauty
All around,
As its bounden duty;
You, my dear,
Did all you could
To wipe a tear
Which others shed,
As your bounden duty
And them you led..
Like a flower,
That droops down
In its bower;
Whose beauty is torn,
From this earth
In the following morn;
You, my dear,
Were made to wilt;
Though many a tear,
Could not help,
To bring you back;
In our great yelp!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To the Autumn
Sweet Sabbath of the year!
While evening lights decay,
Thy parting steps methinks I hear
Steal from the world away.
Amid thy silent bowers,
'Tis sad, but sweet, to dwell;
Where falling leaves and drooping flowers
Around me breathe farewell.
Along thy sunset skies
Their glories melt in shade,
And like the things we fondly prize,
Seem lovelier as they fade.
A deep and crimson streak
Thy dying leaves disclose;
As on consumption's waning cheek
'Mid ruin blooms the rose.
Thy scene each vision brings
Of beauty in decay;
Of fair and early faded things
Too exquisite to stay.
Of joys that come no more;
Of flowers whose bloom is fled;
Of farewells wept upon the shore;
Of friends estranged or dead.
Of all that now may seem
To memory's tearful eye,
The vanish'd beauty of a dream,
O'er which we gaze and sigh!
poem by James Montgomery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Death of a Flower
Love is a soft, sweet flower
Blooming 'neath sunlight's rays
Life gives love its power
Sustains you all your days
Love is a soft, sweet flower
Bright petals circularly arrayed
Life gives love its power
To hold one's heart in sway
Love is a soft, sweet flower
Flourishing by a cool bay
Life gives love its power
But eventually both fade to gray
Love is a wilted flower
Petals all crumpled and frayed
Life gave love its power
But death took both away
poem by Elizabeth Sheaffer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Beautiful Flower Blooming
A withered flower blooming again
breeze shook the flower
the sun is shining on flower
rain water to wash the dust-filled flower
abort storm petals
storm that renders the flower petals
polling beetle sucking painful
flower that bloom so bright today
beauty exudes an aura of coolness of the beholder
spread the fragrance that invites a bee to touch
although many other flowers around it
bees sucking the flower first
choose to suck and touch the flower
lately the flower
always bloom radiate beauty
a bee was not able to get away from the flower
a bee sucking the beautiful bloomington
always produce the honey taste good
really beautiful relationship between the flower and bee
both are very compatible and complement each other
poem by meti Rahmawati
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The Wind O' Death.
Oh! we hae a' to die, dear,
We're a' to gang awa';
We, when Death's wind blows by, dear,
Like apples hae to fa';
Howe'er we may be clinging,
Be green or rosy hinging,
When we hear the wind singing
A glamour's over a'.
We drap unto the ground, dear,
Each frae the boughs we fa',
When we hear the wind sound, dear,
The voice in the wind ca'!
It comes through leagues o' heaven,
A dream-joy to it given,
It comes at morn or even
Wi' the glamour over a'.
We'll wait for it to blow, dear —
How sweet the birdies ca'!
The flowers come and go, dear,
There's peace atween us twa:
The love-light round us clinging,
'Tis sweet, together hinging,
To wait for the wind's singing
Wi' the glamour over a'.
poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wonders of Music
Yes, a great deal of wholesome wonders music does to the land.
Our very dear hearts it touches with its warm loving hand.
Of its drawing power, the nature is incredibly grand.
Us with a lot of sweet, tender love as well, music does brand.
Us it affects to act in such great ways that are unplanned.
Ways that go on are what the love of music has planned.
Our very dear lives to live in each and every love’s strand.
A unifying force so great, us all music makes to stand
On the solid rock, unlike those who do fall from the soft sand.
The blazing flames of the vast glory of sweet love, music fanned.
poem by Obinna Kenechukwu Eruchie
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