Now Close The Windows
Now close the windows and hush all the fields:
If the trees must, let them silently toss;
No bird is singing now, and if there is,
Be it my loss.
It will be long ere the marshes resume,
I will be long ere the earliest bird:
So close the windows and not hear the wind,
But see all wind-stirred.
poem by Robert Frost
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Related quotes
This Little Bird
John d loudermilk
Theres a little bird that somebody sends
Down to the earth to live on the wind.
Born on the wind and he sleeps on the wind
This little bird that somebody sends.
Hes light and fragile and feathered sky blue,
So thin and graceful the sun shines through.
This little bird who lives on the wind,
This little bird that somebody sends.
He flies so high up in the sky
Out of reach of human eye.
And the only time that he touches the ground
Is when that little bird
Is when that little bird
Is when that little bird dies.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Night With The Rain
i have closed the doors
and the windows
and let go the curtains
touching the floors
i close my eyes and listen
to the rain
i dream of stars
i miss the moon
the walls close on in me
beyond the glass windows
to the sea
i hear the sad calls of the
night
outside the trees are blown
the black cat stares at me
and then some tears
begin to fall
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In my house
You enter a room to see a park
You close a door only to be led to another stairway
Leading you to another room with nothing but windows
You close a window the rest remains open
You close the windows and another door
In that park in the room where you just entered
Opens
Then you are confused about the roof that opens
To a river to the rocks where another door opens
To a wall with trees and birds and butterflies
This is weird you say, this is really weird
Then from the garage comes a wind that blows
Its horn like a car
I have just arrived offering you an explanation
For all these mess, these uncertainties, these self-made
confusions.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Close To The Wind
Written by gerry beckley and steve levine, 1994
Found on hourglass.
Ah
Lately, it hasnt been easy
Ive been wanderin all night
Searchin, tryin to find an answer
Why Im in this situation
Ive been sailing close to the wind
Trying to keep my head above water
Close to the wind, without you
Ive been sailing close to the wind
Everyday it just gets harder
But youre all I need to survive
For so long it felt like
I was walking on the water
I found the hard part
Is waking without you in the morning
Ive been sailing close to the wind
The weight of the worlds on my shoulders (everyday now)
Close to the wind, without you
Ive been sailing close to the wind
The loneliness its neverending (yes Im falling)
Open your heart, come aboard
And if were back together
I know our love will be everlasting
I still believe that theres a chance
For us to have a happy ending
Peace will reign on earth
Life for all its worth, oh yeah
I pray every single morning
That this time we will be much stronger
Ive been sailing close to the wind
Help me try to find a shelter (to protect you)
Close to the wind without you
Ive been sailing close to the wind
But inside its safe and warm now (were together)
Dont be afraid of the storm
Ive been sailing close, close to the wind (been sailing in)
(close to the wind) dont be afraid of the storm
Ive been sailing close, close to the wind (been sailing in)
(close to the wind) dont be afraid of the storm ...
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Certain Preference On Early Mornings...
sometimes forgive me
but i do not like to hear bird chirping by my window
on early mornings for honestly i prefer
the silent sounds of the wind
from the sea,
and so when i hear those chirping birds
perching on the tree
those still feeding their fledgelings
i exercise that right of having to close my
glass windows
preferring once again
the privacy of my room and the exclusion of the
outside world
by the curtains and then i begin to sip my coffee
reading a poem
listening to the words seeping like rain to the
hair of my own soul.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In the Vale of Llangollen
In the fields and the lanes again!
There's a bird that sings in my ear
Messages, messages;
The green cool song that I long to hear.
It pipes to me out of a tree
Messages, messages;
This is the voice of the sunshine,
This is the voice of grass and the trees.
It is the joy of Earth
Out of the heaven of the trees:
The voice of a bird in the sunshine singing me
Messages, messages.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Wistfully Watching
They explore the world
through windows,
church windows,
school windows,
two up, two down windows,
castle windows,
large windows,
small windows.
They see it all,
from blameless to guilty,
from noble to treacherous,
through windows.
From skyscraper windows,
to basement flat windows,
from paupers windows,
and palace windows
they watch, absorb, suck it in.
Later when they have grown
they will remember,
try to empathise,
rationalise
decipher the coded metaphors,
but some day
they will be demoralised
by the windows of life.
There they sit __ wistfully watching __
the children
of our times.
poem by Ruth Walters
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My Baby Bird
Is it true birds fly south for the winter
Wish i was a bird for just one day
I would fly to and perch on your window
My baby bird flew away
I love you my baby bird
But i had to set you free
I watched you glide with the wind high above the trees
Maybe i could be a boat and sail to your shore
I miss my baby bird
So next winter i will move south
I will look for you in the sky
You are no longer a baby bird as you have grown
Do you now have baby birds of your own
I long to see you again my baby bird my best friend
I wish i was a bird for just one day
I would sore sore so high
Wishing is all i can do for now
How is my baby bird
Do you miss me for i miss you
Bye my baby but not goodbye
Gliding Bird
(Tom Slocum)
Gliding bird gliding through the sky
I'm wondering why I can't be why I can't be as free
Gliding bird gliding all day long
Sing your secret song away from all these faces that I see
Is where I want to be
My feet are so tired
They walked too many miles
If I run so wild like heaven's child
I'll learn to fly someday
Gliding bird riding in the sun
Rainbow colors run
I hear the wind
I hear its mournful call
Gliding bird high above the sea
Is it longing to be free
Your voice is silent
But your wings tell all
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Blue Bird Sings
oh! the wind cries with it
when the blue bird begins to sing
when the night is so cold
when the moon hides behind
the clouds
oh! the leaves begin to hush
and sympathize
but the blue bird does not stop singing
and then it stops
at dusk
it is no longer there
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sweet Harmony
There is no wind blowing
The tree stands green, serene.
It enjoys the bird's singing
And wonders: 'What does it mean? '
Blessed by this soft rain
Both the bird and the tree
Keep singing tunes again
Flooding the earth with glee!
The bird's chants soar above the tree
This one feels nurtured by them
Its leaves dancing onto the sea
Where the bird goes and treasures them!
poem by Maria C. Costa
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Cambridge, Spring 1937
At last the air fragrant, the bird's bubbling whistle
Succinct in the unknown unsettled trees:
O little Charles, beside the Georgian colleges
And milltown New England; at last the wind soft,
The sky unmoving, and the dead look
Of factory windows separate, at last,
From windows gray and wet:
for now the sunlight
Thrashes its wet shellac on brickwalk and gutter,
White splinters streak midmorning and doorstep,
Winter passes as the lighted streetcar
Moves at midnight, one scene of the past,
Droll and unreal, stiff, stilted and hooded.
poem by Delmore Schwartz
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A Ballad of Dreamland
I hid my heart in a nest of roses,
Out of the sun's way, hidden apart;
In a softer bed than the soft white snow's is,
Under the roses I hid my heart.
Why would it sleep not? why should it start,
When never a leaf of the rose-tree stirred?
What made sleep flutter his wings and part?
Only the song of a secret bird.
Lie still, I said, for the wind's wing closes,
And mild leaves muffle the keen sun's dart;
Lie still, for the wind on the warm seas dozes,
And the wind is unquieter yet than thou art.
Does a thought in thee still as a thorn's wound smart?
Does the fang still fret thee of hope deferred?
What bids the lips of thy sleep dispart?
Only the song of a secret bird.
The green land's name that a charm encloses,
It never was writ in the traveller's chart,
And sweet on its trees as the fruit that grows is,
It never was sold in the merchant's mart.
The swallows of dreams through its dim fields dart,
And sleep's are the tunes in its tree-tops heard;
No hound's note wakens the wildwood hart,
Only the song of a secret bird.
ENVOI
In the world of dreams I have chosen my part,
To sleep for a season and hear no word
Of true love's truth or of light love's art,
Only the song of a secret bird.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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A Poem Of Syntax
A poet and his bird, his dog, his cat and his tree
A poet and the bird in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree and the wind and the cloud
The bird in the tree, the dog in the tree, the cat in the tree,
The bird in the tree, the dog on the tree, the cat under the tree,
The bird on the tree, the bird in a tree, a bird in a tree, a bird in the tree,
And the wind and the cloud and the poet and his dog and his cat and the tree
The dog chases the cat the cat chases the bird
And they all arrive in that tree
Where the poet is sitting under that tree
The poet takes the dog and the cat was envious
And the bird looks at them in silence
The silence looks at the poet in the eye
Of the cat and the bird flies away
The poet and the dog is the poem of friendship
The cat and the dog is the poem of the endless natural quarrels
And the bird that flies away against the cat and the dog and the poet and the tree
And flies against the wind that the bird is now fighting
And the clouds that seem so blue and blue
The bird that actually flies away
Is actually me
I was not the poet with the dog
I am not the tree I am not the wind I am not the cloud I am not the poet there who had a dog as friend and I was not the quarrelsome thing from the blue and out of the blue
I am the bird with wings and I always fly away to places
Against the wind to places where I can be as always be the bird with wings in silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Aziola
I.
'Do you not hear the Aziola cry?
Methinks she must be nigh,'
Said Mary, as we sate
In dusk, ere stars were lit, or candles brought;
And I, who thought
This Aziola was some tedious woman,
Asked, 'Who is Aziola?' How elate
I felt to know that it was nothing human,
No mockery of myself to fear or hate:
And Mary saw my soul,
And laughed, and said, 'Disquiet yourself not;
'Tis nothing but a little downy owl.'
II.
Sad Aziola! many an eventide
Thy music I had heard
By wood and stream, meadow and mountain-side,
And fields and marshes wide,--
Such as nor voice, nor lute, nor wind, nor bird,
The soul ever stirred;
Unlike and far sweeter than them all.
Sad Aziola! from that moment I
Loved thee and thy sad cry.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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When a lost bird flies to your roost in the fog
'You are very familiar but I think that you have missed your particular nest.'
The kind bird said.
'Yes, I know my dear but my nest is no more as it's scattered by the Easterly winds.
And I think a lone bird never let me go away isn't it? ' The beautiful singing bird questioned.
'You are most welcome sweet but my nest is not strong enough for the two of us and I have little doubts about the coming hurricane.' The kind lone bird replied
'Let the wind blows and take us away but not alone, now we could start singing together from the place where you have stopped.' And she smiled.
* To Alison & Jerry..................!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Where Does The Wind Go
Where does the wind go on cold, cold nights
Out of the sight of the bright sunlight,
Under the gaze of the glowing moon,
When all the world is tired and sleeping;
Moaning and carrying on something fierce
Could it be that the wind is weeping?
Where does the wind hide it's broken heart,
Out on the lake, around the boat
And even when no one’s there to hear,
Does the wind ever look for an alibi
When it's so quiet, you can hear your breath,
But the wind only heaves one threadbare sigh?
Where is the place wind could stay it's breeze;
So fidgety, flighty and full of glee
Holding it's breath till the doors fell in;
The windows all cracking their window jams,
Saving it all for a winter's storm
When the trees bend as low as they can.
poem by Patti Masterman
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Close To You
( the carpenters )
Why do birds suddenly appear
Everytime you are near?
Just like me, they long to be
Close to you...
Why do stars fall off from the sky
Everytime you walk by?
Just like me, they long to be,
Close to you...
On the day that you were born
The angels got together
They decided to create a dream come true
So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair
And put a starlight in your eyes so blue
That is why all the girls in town
Follow you, all around
Just like me, they long to be
Close to you...
Just like me, they long to be
Close to you....
Just like me, they long to be
Close to you....
Aah...
Close to you....
song performed by by Cranberries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dawn Wind
The Fifteenth Century
At two o'clock in the morning, if you open your window and
listen,
You will hear the feet of the Wind that is going to call the sun.
And the trees in the shadow rustle, and the trees in the moonlight
glisten,
And though it is deep, dark night, you feel that the night is
done.
So do the cows in the field. They graze for an hour and lie down,
Dozing and chewing the cud; or a bird in the ivy wakes,
Chirrups one note and is still, and the restless Wind stares on,
Fidgeting far down the road, till, softly, the darkness breaks.
Back comes the Wind full strength with a blow like an angel's
wing,
Gentle but waking the world, as he shouts: "The Sun! The
Sun!"
And the light floods over the fields and the birds begin to sing,
And the Wind dies down in the grass. It is day and his work
is done.
So when the world is asleep, and there seems no hope of her
waking
Out of some long, bad dream that makes her mutter and moan,
Suddenly, all men arise to the noise of fetters breaking,
And every one smiles at his neighbor and tells him his soul is
his own!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Inveteracies...
a heap of dry leaves
under the trees
trees like fingers
stretching to reach
the moon
on the marshes
of the big river
the full moon sits
silently
a dog barks
this morning
at the wrong person
someone calls my
name but i do not dare
look back
promises are
feet without floors
faith is always
a blind item
and people accept
them always to
be true
and all giving
and
reliable
blank walls
speak too much
doors close
at the wrong hours of the
day
windows imitating
the natural
beauty of some
sexless eunuchs
facing the monitor
i am the nuclear
sun
threatening the room
that the explosion
is near
the dusts run in panic
the winds
stir the pebbles into
rebellion
etcetera is when
you do not know what is next
from your
self-proclaimed
knowledgeability
30.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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