En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Wind And Window Flower

Lovers, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze.
When the frosty window veil
Was melted down at noon,
And the cagèd yellow bird
Hung over her in tune,
He marked her through the pane,
He could not help but mark,
And only passed her by,
To come again at dark.
He was a winter wind,
Concerned with ice and snow,
Dead weeds and unmated birds,
And little of love could know.
But he sighed upon the sill,
He gave the sash a shake,
As witness all within
Who lay that night awake.
Perchance he half prevailed
To win her for the flight
From the firelit looking-glass
And warm stove-window light.
But the flower leaned aside
And thought of naught to say,
And morning found the breeze
A hundred miles away.

poem by Robert Frost
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Alms

My heart is what it was before,
A house where people come and go;
But it is winter with your love,
The sashes are beset with snow.

I light the lamp and lay the cloth,
I blow the coals to blaze again;
But it is winter with your love,
The frost is thick upon the pane..

I know a winter when it comes:
The leaves are listless on the boughs;
I watched your love a little while,
And brought my plants into the house.

I water them and turn them south,
I snap the dead brown from the stem;
But it is winter with your love,
I only tend and water them.

There was a time I stood and watched
The small, ill-natured sparrows' fray;
I loved the beggar that I fed,
I cared for what he had to say,

I stood and watched him out of sight:
Today I reach around the door
And set a bowl upon the step;
My heart is what it was before,

But it is winter with your love;
I scatter crumbs upon the sill,
And close the window, —and the birds
May take or leave them, as they will.

poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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The Case Of The Window Pain

an astute answer
discerning shrewd
would surely mention

this wit must be
personification
of a window pane

as for the window pain
perhaps the window is shamed
perhaps the window is dirty

as for the window pain
perhaps the glass is cracked
small large cracks streaked

as for the window pain
perhaps cricket ball punctured
victim of circle game holed

as for the window pain
perhaps the window is broken
glass shards bear crime witness

as for the window pain
perhaps window frame rots
an old window in house derelict

as for the window pain
perhaps the window witnesses
child abuse domestic scenes violent

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Rain Keeps Fallin

I remember the night so well.
The rain was fallin but I just couldnt tell,
If it was you that was callin to my love-sick brain.
But the rain kept fallin on my window pane.
Out of the night the thunder rang in my ear.
I cant fight the feelin, lord, that brings forth my fears.
I wish it was over, lord, please stop the rain.
The rain thats fallin on my window pane.
The rain thats fallin on my window pane.
Every night the rains on time, I can feel it in this heart of mine.
But I dont know what to do.
Well, I guess I could go back home, cause you know back home is where I belong.
But it just aint home without you.
And I dont know what to do, baby.
Well, I guess Im a looser but it just dont seem fair.
I lost all my life so tell me, why should I care?
The night that you left me is the night that it came.
And the rains still fallin on my window pane.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
You know the rain.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
I said the rain.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
You know the rain.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
I said the rain.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
You know the rain ...
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
... keeps right on fallin.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
I said, the rain keeps fallin ...

song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Window

I was staring out the window
The whole time he was talking to me
It was a filthy pane of glass
I couldn't get a clear view
As he went on and on
It wasn't the outside world I could see
Just the filthy pane that I was looking through
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
I was never focused on just one thing
My eyes got fixed when my mind got soft
It may looked like I'm concentrated on a very clear view
But I'm as good as asleep
I bet you didn't know
It takes a lot of it away if you do
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
Because the fact in fact
Whatevers in front of me is covering my view
So I can't see what I'm seeing in fact
I only see what I'm looking through
I had to break the window
It just had to be it was in my way
Better that I break the window
Then forget what I had to say
So again I've done the right thing
I was never worried about that
The answer's always been in clear view
But even when the window's clean
I still can't see for the fact
That when it's clean it's so clear
I cant tell what I'm looking through
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
I had to break the window
It just had to be it was in my way
Better that I break the window
Then forget what I had to say
I had to break the window
It was in my way
Better that I break a window
Then forget what I had to say
Or miss what I should see
Or breaking him or her or me

song performed by by Fiona Apple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring Song

ALL winter through I sat alone,
Doors barred and windows shuttered fast,
And listened to the wind's faint moan,
And ghostly mutterings of the past;
And in the pauses of the rain,
'Mid whispers of dead sorrow and sin,
Love tapped upon the window pane:
I had no heart to let him in.

But now, with spring, my doors stand wide;
My windows let delight creep through;
I hear the skylark sing outside;
I see the crocus, golden new.
The pigeons on my window-sill,
Winging and wooing, flirt and flout,--
Now Love must enter if he will,
I have no heart to keep him out.

poem by Edith Nesbit
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A Winter Song (From, Lost Song Poems)

There's outside a winter's song
With frore and grayish earth,
We had the summer for so long
For what each day was worth;
I'll long for summer and spring
Each time the night gets cold,
When weather hollowly will sing
In winter so frosty and bold.

A flower so gracefully done
The winter's rose in my window,
I'll greet you gladly on and on
Cherish your pearl white afterglow;
I've often been in a moody down
When darker the short day comes,
Then I see frosty rose jewel crown
And know in the cold it blooms.

Winter romance and candle lights
Longing for green sweet earth,
Longing for clearings sky bright
And all what the day young's worth;
How can it touch the morning flame
The winter that's gray and dark,
Will not each color be there same
Without its golden morning spark.

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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The Pressed Gentian

The time of gifts has come again,
And, on my northern window-pane,
Outlined against the day's brief light,
A Christmas token hangs in sight.

The wayside travellers, as they pass,
Mark the gray disk of clouded glass;
And the dull blankness seems, perchance,
Folly to their wise ignorance.

They cannot from their outlook see
The perfect grace it hath for me;
For there the flower, whose fringes through
The frosty breath of autumn blew,
Turns from without its face of bloom
To the warm tropic of my room,
As fair as when beside its brook
The hue of bending skies it took.

So from the trodden ways of earth,
Seem some sweet souls who veil their worth,
And offer to the careless glance
The clouding gray of circumstance.
They blossom best where hearth-fires burn,
To loving eyes alone they turn
The flowers of inward grace, that hide
Their beauty from the world outside.

But deeper meanings come to me,
My half-immortal flower, from thee!
Man judges from a partial view,
None ever yet his brother knew;
The Eternal Eye that sees the whole
May better read the darkened soul,
And find, to outward sense denied,
The flower upon its inmost side

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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No Star I Can See

There is no star,
Which I can see
From my window...
Boundless darkness
Is here in the
Chest of night.
The painted sky,
I saw in the daylight
Now is wiped away
As my last poem
I wrote but made
it vanish from
The page, because
It couldn't tell
The blank story,
Of my desolate
Life...no star
Still is visible
From this window..
Someone has spread
The melted pitch
On the road of my
Moped sky..I stare
And stare all night.
The caged breeze,
The starless sky
And night, none can share
My loneliness, I know
They are no living
Persons like me...
But, they can drown me
In complete void of
Sea of utter darkness.
One star can do this;
Only one star......
Thru my little window,
It's flickering light,
Can fill my dark room,
With its heavenly touch!

poem by Nilakshi Das
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Winter's Fingers

I’m looking out of the window,
watching the rain turn to snow,
the land is running from winter’s grasp,
but naked trees mean autumn’s past.

Trees’ bony fingers reach for the sky,
but the pale grey sky is a little shy,
and will not answer their call,
no matter how big or how tall.

But the clouds do speak and answer,
with snow, the subtle breeze dancer,
and the snows’ frisky little caper,
covers the land and blankets nature.

The land is under a white membrane,
but on my side of the window frame,
all is cosy with the fire ablaze,
my window is now a frosty glaze.

poem by Dale Mullock
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Good Night

Little baby, lay your head
On your pretty cradle-bed;
Shut your eye-peeps, now the day
And the light are gone away;
All the clothes are tucked in tight;
Little baby dear, good night.

Yes, my darling, well I know
How the bitter wind doth blow;
And the winter's snow and rain
Patter on the window-pane:
But they cannot come in here,
To my little baby dear;

For the window shutteth fast,
Till the stormy night is past;
And the curtains warm are spread
Round about her cradle-bed:
So till morning shineth bright,
Little baby dear, good night.

poem by Jane Taylor
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Wintertime

Winter has come with his cold breeze
Oh how I missed the long nights and cold air
Noble winter do as whatever you please

Some bees hide in their trees
The fauna and flora in winter so rare
Winter has come with his cold breeze

You all mighty of all season that freeze the seas
Warm us with your artic flare
Noble winter do as whatever you please

Oh great winter now that I m on my knees
The snow might have something to spare
Winter has come with his cold breeze

Yesterday was like a gentle kiss
There where so many stars to stare
Noble winter do as whatever you please

So you have brought us many diseases
Now in winter people so scare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Noble winter do as whatever you please

poem by Ayrtonn Bautista
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In A Vale

When I was young, we dwelt in a vale
By a misty fen that rang all night,
And thus it was the maidens pale
I knew so well, whose garments trail
Across the reeds to a window light.
The fen had every kind of bloom,
And for every kind there was a face,
And a voice that has sounded in my room
Across the sill from the outer gloom.
Each came singly unto her place,
But all came every night with the mist;
And often they brought so much to say
Of things of moment to which, they wist,
One so lonely was fain to list,
That the stars were almost faded away
Before the last went, heavy with dew,
Back to the place from which she came-
Where the bird was before it flew,
Where the flower was before it grew,
Where bird and flower were one and the same.
And thus it is I know so well
Why the flower has odor, the bird has song.
You have only to ask me, and I can tell.
No, not vainly there did I dwell,
Nor vainly listen all the night long.

poem by Robert Frost
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The Telephone

'When I was just as far as I could walk From here today, There was an hour All still When leaning with my head again a flower I heard you talk. Don't say I didn't, for I heard you say-- You spoke from that flower on the window sill- Do you remember what it was you said?' 'First tell me what it was you thought you heard.' 'Having found the flower and driven a bee away, I leaned on my head And holding by the stalk, I listened and I thought I caught the word-- What was it? Did you call me by my name? Or did you say-- Someone said "Come" -- I heard it as I bowed.' 'I may have thought as much, but not aloud.' "Well, so I came.'

poem by Robert Frost
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Floridian

The cactus and the aloe bloom
Beneath the window of your room;
Your window where, at evenfall,
Beneath the twilight's first pale star,
You linger, tall and spiritual,
And hearken my guitar.

It is the hour
When every flower
Is wooed by moth or bee
Would, would you were the flower, dear,
And I the moth to draw you near,
To draw you near to me,
My dear,
To draw you near to me.

II.

The jasmine and bignonia spill
Their balm around your windowsill;
The sill where, when magnolia-white,
In foliage mists, the moon hangs far,
You lean with bright deep eyes of night
And hearken my guitar.

It is the hour
When from each flower
The wind woos fragrances
Would, would you were the flower, love,
And I the wind to breathe above,
To breathe above and kiss,
My love,
To breathe above and kiss.

poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Winter Rose/love Awake

All through the summer I have followed you around
Bringing a rose for the winter thats coming
Now the snow is on the ground.
Winter rose. winter rose.
Shine your light in the air.
Winter rose. winter rose.
Skine your light everywhere.
Love awake. toll the bell.
Tell the world how glad you are.
Love awake to the day
When we can make our love awake.
Lord knows we need it any time we can get it.
But if we forget it every now and then.
But if you dont feel it, later on youll regret it.
And if we let it we could set it free, you and me.
Love awake. tone the bell.
Tell the world how glad you are.
Love awake to the day
When we can make our love awake.
Snowfalls in the winter,
Spring brings the rain.
But its never to long before the summer comes again.
It always comes again!
Love awake.

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bliss Remembered....

a rose
in a white porcelain vase
on top of
a glazed
wooden table
showered with
the early morning light
from the laced
window
while you were
still sleeping soundly
in bed

two yellow birds
chirp
on the sill
of the window

i am at
peace
beside you

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: XCIII

A DISAPPOINTMENT
Spring, of a sudden, came to life one day.
Ere this, the Winter had been cold and chill.
That morning first the Summer air did fill
The world, making bleak March seem almost May.
The daffodils were blooming golden gay;
The birch trees budded purple on the hill;
The rose, that clambered up the window--sill,
Put forth a crimson shoot. All yesterday
The winds about the casement chilly blew,
But now the breeze that played before the door
So caught the dead leaves that I thought there flew
Brown butterflies up from the grassy floor.
--But someone said you came not. Ah, too true!
And I, I thought that Winter reigned once more.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Love Is A Window Starlit Bright

Love is a window starlit bright
And you are the moon
That encompasses its light
Thriving like a winters flower
Visited in the mystical—night?
You are a forest of melting snow
And all that's pure and white
'You are that lover's song in echo'
Of what God made truly right.

Lord, oh lord
She kisses me still...
Prolonging each cold
-winters chill...
The thaw of passing...

Lord, oh lord
Its then she whispers!
Asks for the winds desires
In mine, burning...
Crackling... Ilex ears
Touch me not—just
In the next world:
And I'll like a feather rise
Like an attending angel
I'll kiss away all your tears
All your cries...

Lord, oh lord
Its then she whispers!
As and when the winter raps
Its winter cloak
Around your heart
I will be there to warm
And shelter you!
From the cold and the dark
As sure as the fire
That burns eternal in your heart.

poem by Mark Heathcote
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Under Cover of Night

To slip into your shadow under cover of night.
To follow your footsteps, your shadow at the window.
That shadow at the window is you and no one else;
it's you.
Do not open that window behind whose curtains you're moving.
Shut your eyes.
I'd like to shut them with my lips.
But the window opens and the breeze, the breeze
which strangely balances flame and flag surrounds my escape
with its cloak.
The window opens: it's not you.
I knew it all along.

poem by Robert Desnos
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My Winter Freedom

Freedom across all oceans and skies
Looking through a window into white
Into a glassy, cold terrain
I see my winter freedom
Into the mountains and pass the bare trees
I see my winter freedom
Pass the snow white roads and trees full of mysteries
Comes the joy of the first snow
The innocent breeze across your face
The endless walk into the night
Gazing across the sky at the night’s moon
To the morning sun across the horizon
Reflecting off the glassy ice and foggy mountain tops
Seeing and breathing in the first days of winter
But mostly…
Believing
In the wonders and joys of
Your Winter Freedom

poem by Rachel Pedroza
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