To Robert Nichols
(From Frise on the Somme in February, 1917, in answer to a letter saying: “I am just finishing my ‘Faun’s Holiday.’ I wish you were here to feed him with cherries.”)
Here by a snowbound river
In scrapen holes we shiver,
And like old bitterns we
Boom to you plaintively:
Robert, how can I rhyme
Verses for your desire—
Sleek fauns and cherry-time,
Vague music and green trees,
Hot sun and gentle breeze,
England in June attire,
And life born young again,
For your gay goatish brute
Drunk with warm melody
Singing on beds of thyme
With red and rolling eye,
Waking with wanton lute
All the Devonian plain,
Lips dark with juicy stain,
Ears hung with bobbing fruit?
Why should I keep him time?
Why in this cold and rime,
Where even to dream is pain?
No, Robert, there’s no reason:
Cherries are out of season,
Ice grips at branch and root,
And singing birds are mute.
poem by Robert Graves
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Related quotes
You and Yellow Air
YOU, AND YELLOW AIR by John Shaw Neilson
I dream of an old kissing-time
And the flowered follies there;
In the dim place of cherry-trees,
Of you, and yellow air.
It was an age of babbling,
When the players would play
Mad with the wine and miracles
Of a charmed holiday.
Bewildered was the warm earth
With whistling and sighs,
And a young foal spoke all his heart
With diamonds for eyes.
You were of Love's own colour
In eyes and heart and hair;
In the dim place of cherry-trees
Ridden by yellow air.
It was the time when red lovers
With the red fevers burn;
A time of bells and silver seeds
And cherries on the turn.
Children looked into tall trees
And old eyes looked behind;
God in His glad October
No sullen man could find.
Out of your eyes a magic
Fell lazily as dew,
And every lad with lad's eyes
Made summer love to you.
It was a reign of roses,
Of blue flowers for the eye,
And the rustling of green girls
Under a white sky.
I dream of an old kissing-time
And the flowered follies there,
In the dim place of cherry-trees,
Of you, and yellow air.
poem by John Shaw Neilson
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The Cherry Tree
The Cherry Tree
There was a Cherry Tree,
In our house at Number Three;
‘T was a variety from Singapore,
Presented by a friend, now no more.
On the western side of our house,
To be away from the straying cows;
It was planted—a sapling, rare,
And nurtured with ample care.
Soon with shoots it grew tall,
And was high above the compound wall;
Pride in us did surely swell,
To behold the tree growing so well,
Its branches now did spread and sprawl,
And to the next house too it did crawl;
Its shade permeated through to the hall,
And ushered in cool breeze to us all.
The white blossoms of the cherry,
Drew swarms of bees—so merry,
Raw green cherries then popped,
Which turned bright red and dropped.
The green tree with cherries so red,
Was like an ornament with rubies studded;
It was sure a splendid sight,
Even in the glow of the moon-lit night.
The cherry fruits tasted very sweet,
Though for some it wasn't a treat;
To crush a fruit ‘twixt your teeth'
A current of joy ran underneath.!
Many were the children of the street,
Who vied for the cherries so sweet;
They'd climb the tree, up to pick,
And fill their pockets till there were sick.
The crows would claim the tree their own,
And feed the nestlings with cherries grown,
Dawn would hail the cuckoo's spree,
With its sonorous call from atop the tree.
Under the shade of the cherry tree,
On the landing of stairs, with glee,
I've oft with it mute communion held,
And there, have many a poem, spelled.
This Cherry Tree, so much prized,
After eight years was much disguised;
Alas! It lost its branches and was browned,
With out-stretched limbs, to be razed to ground! .
The Cherry Tree is now no more,
As I pen this, I miss it as ne'er before;
But to eye its photograph, my heart does leap,
And a warmth in me does truly seep!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Cherry Ripe
Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry,
Full and fair ones; come, and buy:
If so be you ask me where
They do grow? I answer, there
Where my Julia's lips do smile;--
There's the land, or cherry-isle;
Whose plantations fully show
All the year where cherries grow.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Cherry- Ripe
CHERRY-RIPE, ripe, ripe, I cry,
Full and fair ones; come and buy.
If so be you ask me where
They do grow, I answer: There
Where my Julia's lips do smile;
There's the land, or cherry-isle,
Whose plantations fully show
All the year where cherries grow.
poem by Robert Herrick
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I Just Cut the Grass
I just cut the grass, and
the cat is checking out my work.
She’s critical, but helps out,
grazing contentedly on
sprigs of errant chaff
that I missed in my hurry
to finish. Clouds are gathering
on this cold, Holy Saturday.
Now I tarry in my webbed chair,
to sip a cold bottle of beer,
and wonder how green
the world has grown.
Knock-out roses pop
(their vermillion tips shout
in the more common green of fern and ivy)
and red cherries fill the green cherry-tree.
Soon from shattered shells
new birds will rise
as mockingbirds fly
to fill shrill beaks
with cherries.
poem by Steven Federle
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Cherry-Time
Cherries of the night are riper
Than the cherries pluckt at noon
Gather to your fairy piper
When he pipes his magic tune:
Merry, merry,
Take a cherry;
Mine are sounder,
Mine are rounder,
Mine are sweeter
For the eater
Under the moon.
And you’ll be fairies soon.
In the cherry pluckt at night,
With the dew of summer swelling,
There’s a juice of pure delight,
Cool, dark, sweet, divinely smelling.
Merry, merry,
Take a cherry;
Mine are sounder,
Mine are rounder,
Mine are sweeter
For the eater
In the moonlight.
And you’ll be fairies quite.
When I sound the fairy call,
Gather here in silent meeting,
Chin to knee on the orchard wall,
Cooled with dew and cherries eating.
Merry, merry,
Take a cherry;
Mine are sounder,
Mine are rounder,
Mine are sweeter.
For the eater
When the dews fall.
And you’ll be fairies all.
poem by Robert Graves
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Cherry-Time
Cherries of the night are riper
Than the cherries pluckt at noon
Gather to your fairy piper
When he pipes his magic tune:
Merry, merry,
Take a cherry;
Mine are sounder,
Mine are rounder,
Mine are sweeter
For the eater
Under the moon.
And you’ll be fairies soon.
In the cherry pluckt at night,
With the dew of summer swelling,
There’s a juice of pure delight,
Cool, dark, sweet, divinely smelling.
Merry, merry,
Take a cherry;
Mine are sounder,
Mine are rounder,
Mine are sweeter
For the eater
In the moonlight.
And you’ll be fairies quite.
When I sound the fairy call,
Gather here in silent meeting,
Chin to knee on the orchard wall,
Cooled with dew and cherries eating.
Merry, merry,
Take a cherry;
Mine are sounder,
Mine are rounder,
Mine are sweeter.
For the eater
When the dews fall.
And you’ll be fairies all.
poem by Robert Graves
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Carry Me (a River)
carry me (a river)
carry me a river
take i there, by the river
let the cool breeze wash away the pain
from within me not in vain
carry me a river
where the sweet melodies of the birds reign
the birds in a singing mood so plain
wipe off my mind from the railing train
and carry me over yonder to clear my brain
as you carry me a river
carry me a river
by the river side
the pebbles and the bubbles
clear as water by the stream
as you carry me a river
told me the best poor surrogate of wisdom is pride
but intelligence and self trust will avoid troubles
not even in your dream
carry me a river
in touch with i roots
in my gideon boots
and some khaki suites
carry me a river
to dream a better me
and look back to see
the horizon by sundown
lost but not a clown
with my thinking crown
i stood up to go back-a town
next time
carry me a river on time
though you carry me there for some time
but next time
carry me a river on time
® ntema, o.p.
[email protected]
©25.08.2011
2133h rs
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Tuvvi Tuvvi
SERENADING THE SEASON OF SPRING WITH SMILES
ARE THE BIRDS SINGING MELODY OF TUVVI TUVVI
DANCING TO THE BEAUTY OF BLOOMING DAFFODILS
ARE THE LEAVES IN THE WIND WHISTLING TUVVI TUVVI
USHERING THE WARM SUNSHINE OF THE SPRING
ARE THE WALTZING SHADOWS SINGING TUVVI TUVVI
BORDERING THE GREEN GRASS ALL AROUND BEAMING
ARE THE SWAYING TREES SINGING TUVVI TUVVI
WELCOMING THE BRIGHT SPRING IS THE BEAUTIFUL MORNING
REFLECTING ITS LIGHT ON FLOWING STREAMS OF SINGING TUVVI TUVVI
SEEING THE SIGNS OF NEW LIFE PRAISING
ARE THE GRATEFUL HEARTS SINGING TUVVI TUVVI
BLOOMING ARE THE FLOWERS IN SPRING COLORS
INVITING THE BEES BUZZING TUVVI TUVVI
FILLING THIS WORLD WITH SWEET SOUNDS OF LAUGHTER
ARE THE CHILDREN SINGING TUVVI TUVVI
Transalation of Poem by KUVEMPU
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
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Juicy Lucy
Every time I call her name shes right there by my side
Every time that I think its a change
Theres no place left to hide
This must be for real
This must be for real
This must be for real
It cant be a dream
Every time I blow my love
Shes knockin on my back door
Every time that I tear her clothes
She pulls me down some more
This must be for real
This must be for real
This must be for real
It cant be a dream
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Scary woman put me under, under her spell
Never tell, if I risk it I ____ her
There still standin, try to get my hand in
But she gets away________one stride
Every day she comes around
Lookin good and tryin to catch my eye
Aint no way to tell her no
I guess I never even thought to try
This must be for real
This must be for real
This must be for real
It cant be a dream
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Every time I tie her down she wants to let me go
Every time I start to slide
Shes tellin me Im way to slow
This must be for real
This must be for real
This must be for real
It cant be a dream
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dads Cherry Tree
There was a large cherry tree in my yard
This tree t’was my dad ‘s favorite
And as the cherry tree grew up to thy sky
He did have a decision
whether or not to chop the tree down
Or risk it falling and killing him
For you see this old cherry tree did
Stand right over his bed
So if the wind kick up or lightning did strike
Would be his end for
The tree would fall and he would go
So unfortunately with the tree
So he would make great decision
And hopefully make it right
It took him many years and many a time
He thought’s the did spite
Him for the year’s went by and the cherry tree
Got more demised, nearer to the bed
As he would lay and begin to wonder
Will this take off my head
So as the year the did expire
Then He finally said
I will take the old tree down
Above my own bed
And the so alas the cherry fell
The tree would breathe its last
And be cut down to stump and be
Safe for dad once again
The tree was made low and the branches did go
Right into the meat smoker
But out of the ash cloud grew another
through the thorns and choker
the tree did live on in another a tree that grew
and so the tree was reborn
from a cherry, the trees great fruit
and so this little sapling grew and it grew
and it grew 1,2,3 foot by the crowing of the year
and so it grew and it got taller
as a little sapling then might or would do
and the tree got no smaller
as it grew to be as tall as dad and it was
staring him in the eye
he said we got to dig this up
look at the size
for you see the little sapling was right in my garden
and blocking the sunshine
so we dug and dug and dug
it took a lot of time
but finally we got up pulled it out of the ground
and moved to better spot
were it would live in peace and harmony
the place we set was not to hot
But it was not to cold either, it was
It was a nice spot with all
of the tree for the young cherry’s company
the tree grew very tall
And with it happy position that there was
it was a great sight
To see this cherry tree again live
And never have to fight
Now when my dad he did see this
he was so overjoyed
He had his cherry tree’s son and offspring
And never again did he toy
With planting or cutting down old cherry trees
He loved his tree so dear
That he would be indeed collecting all the cherries
And never wrong was he steered
poem by Timothy Young
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August
THERE WERE four apples on the bough,
Half gold half red, that one might know
The blood was ripe inside the core;
The colour of the leaves was more
Like stems of yellow corn that grow
Through all the gold June meadow’s floor.
The warm smell of the fruit was good
To feed on, and the split green wood,
With all its bearded lips and stains
Of mosses in the cloven veins,
Most pleasant, if one lay or stood
In sunshine or in happy rains.
There were four apples on the tree,
Red stained through gold, that all might see
The sun went warm from core to rind;
The green leaves made the summer blind
In that soft place they kept for me
With golden apples shut behind.
The leaves caught gold across the sun,
And where the bluest air begun,
Thirsted for song to help the heat;
As I to feel my lady’s feet
Draw close before the day were done;
Both lips grew dry with dreams of it.
In the mute August afternoon
They trembled to some undertune
Of music in the silver air;
Great pleasure was it to be there
Till green turned duskier and the moon
Coloured the corn-sheaves like gold hair.
That August time it was delight
To watch the red moons wane to white
’Twixt grey seamed stems of apple-trees;
A sense of heavy harmonies
Grew on the growth of patient night,
More sweet than shapen music is.
But some three hours before the moon
The air, still eager from the noon,
Flagged after heat, not wholly dead;
Against the stem I leant my head;
The colour soothed me like a tune,
Green leaves all round the gold and red.
I lay there till the warm smell grew
More sharp, when flecks of yellow dew
Between the round ripe leaves had blurred
The rind with stain and wet; I heard
A wind that blew and breathed and blew,
Too weak to alter its one word.
The wet leaves next the gentle fruit
Felt smoother, and the brown tree-root
Felt the mould warmer: I too felt
(As water feels the slow gold melt
Right through it when the day burns mute)
The peace of time wherein love dwelt.
There were four apples on the tree,
Gold stained on red that all might see
The sweet blood filled them to the core:
The colour of her hair is more
Like stems of fair faint gold, that be
Mown from the harvest’s middle floor.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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There Is A Garden In Her Face
There is a garden in her face
Where roses and white lilies grow;
A heav'nly paradise is that place
Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow.
There cherries grow which none may buy,
Till 'Cherry ripe' themselves do cry.
Those cherries fairly do enclose
Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter shows,
They look like rose-buds fill'd with snow;
Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy,
Till 'Cherry ripe' themselves do cry.
Her eyes like angels watch them still,
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill
All that attempt with eye or hand
Those sacred cherries to come nigh,
Till 'Cherry ripe' themselves do cry.
poem by Thomas Campion
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There is a Garden in Her Face
There is a garden in her face
Where roses and white lilies grow;
A heav'nly paradise is that place
Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow.
There cherries grow which none may buy
Till "Cherry-ripe" themselves do cry.
Those cherries fairly do enclose
Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter shows,
They look like rose-buds filled with snow;
Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy,
Till "Cherry-ripe" themselves do cry.
Her eyes like angels watch them still;
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill
All that attempt, with eye or hand
Those sacred cherries to come nigh
Till "Cherry-ripe" themselves do cry.
poem by Thomas Champion (1619)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Song For You
Ive been so many places in my life and time
Sung a lot of songs Ive made some bad rhyme
I got out my life in stages
With ten thousand people watching
But were alone now Im singing this song
Singing this song for you
I know your image of me is what I hope to be
Ive treated you unkindly but darling cant you see
Theres no one more important to me
Darling can you please see through me
Cause were alone now
And Im singing this song for you
You taught me precious secrets of the truth
Were only nothing
You came out in front when I was hiding
But now Im so much better
And if my words can come together
Listen to the melody
Cause my love is in there hiding
I love you in a place where theres no space or time
I love you for my life you are a friend of mine
And when my life is over
Remember when we were together
We were alone and I was singing this song for you
Singing this song, singing this song for you
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For love of you my lute was strung
FOR love of you my lute was strung,
When singing days were fair and young,
When life and hope and song were new,
And all were sweet for love of you.
For love of you from June to June
My heart beat to a triumph tune,
And music rose by sea and land,
In answer to a victor's hand.
For love of you from sun to sun,
I strove to sing when songs were done,
And on each failing string my tears
Burnt silence, through the empty years.
But broken now 'neath evening skies,
My lute for ever tuneless lies,
And I but mourn the songs I knew,
Which were so sweet for love of you.
poem by Dollie Radford
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Love On Top Of Love
Yeah!!
If I had two lips,
I could give you that killer kiss,
And make a smack on your leg,
Make you forget about everything else,
But I dont need no extra help,
Im already too much for one man,
In love, you love, and love,
Love to be loved over and over again.
Ill give you soothe cooling action,
Juicy lipped passion,
Im what you want,
Im what you need,
That sexy looking mouth is me,
If you want to give a kiss,
Come and get it, come get my love on top of love,
Ive got what you need and more,
More than you bargained for ,
Come get my love on top of love,
Yeah! uh huh, love.
Its ten oclock,
Time for the second shift,
Another man, another love, another kiss,
Im talking about jungle love,
Tastes like cherries (after) paradise,
Im mean a cooler passion,
My killer kiss, hot as ice,
The green-eyed stranger, time for a wager,
Im what you want, Im what you need,
That sexy looking pout is me.
If you want to give a kiss, come and get it,
Come get my love on top of love,
Ive got what need and more,
More than you bargained for
Come get my love on top of love!
Yeah! (10x -at intervals).
Soothe cooling action,
Juicy lipped passion,
Im what you want, Im what you need,
That juicy looking mouth is me,
Im what you want, Im what you need ,
That juicy looking mouth is me.
Soothe cooling action,
Juicy lipped passion,
Im what you, Im what you need,
That juicy looking mouth is me,
Im what you want, Im what you need,
That juicy sexy mouth is me,
If you want to give a kiss, come and get it,
Come get my love on top of love.
More!...yeah!...on top of love...come and get it,
Come get it juicy lips,( me -x5),
Juicy, cat love, lips, me, me,
Juicy,lips, me, me, love,a kiss,
A juicy ,lips, love a kiss, juicy...
song performed by by Grace Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song For You
(leon russell)
Ive been so many places
In my life and time
Ive sung a lot of songs
I made some bad rhymes
Ive acted out my life in stages
Ten thousand people watching
But were alone now
Im singing this song for you
I know your image of me
Is what I hope to be
I treated you unkindly
But darling cant you see?
Theres no-one more important to me
Oh, baby, cant you please see through me?
cause were alone now and
Im singing this song for you
You taught me precious secrets
Of the truth withholding nothing
You came out in front
I was hiding
Oh, but now Im so much better
If the words dont come together
Just listen to the melody
cause my love in there hiding
Ooh, ooh
Oh, I love you in a place
Where theres no space or time
Love you for my life
You are a friend of mine
And when my life is over
Remember when we were together
We were alone and
I was singing this song for you
We were alone
I was singing this song for you, oh
Singing
I was singing, singing, singing, singing, singing this song for you
Oh, yes
Singing this song for you
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Statistically Speaking
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Statistically speaking.
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Statistically speaking.
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Statistically speaking.
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Statistically speaking.
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
From the viewpoint of a human being...
I detect us humans,
Are the least important things,
On this Earth.
And the water, grass and trees...
Are the 'real' things,
Mother Nature wishes more to treat!
I perceive our existence here,
Is not so high on the list.
Since we are an experiment.
Even though we choose to think of ourselves,
As the center of the universe.
And here to live in a permanence!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Statistically speaking.
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Statistically speaking.
We leech and feed,
Off what nature offers.
We know nothing but conflict!
And this chaos we foster.
There are laws created to discriminate.
Yet we discuss things loved...
And show how much we despise and hate.
We infiltrate and pillage,
Lands where others live.
We take without thought.
Causing blood to shed.
And worship heartache.
As we lay alone sleepless in our beds!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
With faith we fake brotherhood!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Believing prayer delivers escape!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
And cry like spoiled children!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
With no guilt of remorse to eliminate...
The taste of life,
Made of just frosted cake!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Statistically speaking.
We treat ourselves and others like sheep!
To fleece the wool.
Because we're full of bull!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Statistically speaking.
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Statistically speaking.
We take without thought.
Causing blood to shed.
And worship heartache.
As we lay alone,
Sleepless in our beds!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Yes!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Yes!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Yes!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Statistically speaking.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Spring In Victoria
The bottlebrushes laden with crimson flowers
And there is warmth in the October breeze
And with her Spring has brought her blooms and greenery
And birds are singing on the sunlit trees.
Spring in Victoria my favourite time of year
The birds build their nests and raise their families
The weather not too cool or not too warm
A high today of 17 degrees.
The distinct call sounds of the magpie lark
And the Indian mynah sings his scratchy song
Some birds are easy to identify
And by their voices you never get them wrong.
Spring in Victoria is a time of bloom
And sun shines brightly after the brief showers
The fruit trees cloaked in blossoms of pale pink
And gardens look resplendent in their flowers.
My favourite season is always the spring
And spring in Victoria is now in her prime
The wild birds sing and gardens are in bloom
But Nature's beauty fades with the passage of time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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