Nimrod in September
When half the drowsy world’s a-bed
And misty morning rises red,
With jollity of horn and lusty cheer,
Young Nimrod urges on his dwindling rout;
Along the yellowing coverts we can hear
His horse’s hoofs thud hither and about:
In mulberry coat he rides and makes
Huge clamour in the sultry brakes.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Misty River
This morning
Me in this Misty River
All the happiness
I am feeling inside myself
Misty River
The mist is coming
From this Misty River
There are clouds
In the sky
And the mist
Is caused by the condensation
Of the heat mixed in the cold water
Misty River
I am in a fishing boat
That boat is moving slowly in this
Misty river
It is early in the morning
I am eating my breakfast in the fishing boat in the middle of this
Misty River
I hear the birds singing early in the morning
In this Misty River
There must be trees because the sound of the birds is coming from the Branches
Misty River
So peaceful
It looks so different with the mist
No one is around but me
With my fishing boat
And the beautiful sound of the birds
It is so nice
To have a place to come to
Where I can
Hear the sound of the birds
And be left alone
With no one disturbing me
Misty River
This is my special place
And by afternoon
No clouds I will see
The birds are beautiful
Their song is just beautiful like mother nature intended it to be
If nobody else appreciates this Misty River
I do
Misty River
I will die for you
Misty River
I will shed my tears for you
I have been coming here for so long now
Misty River
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Half The World
Half the world lives,
Half the world makes,
Half the world gives
While the other half takes.
Half the world hates,
Half the world runs away,
Half the world's late,
Half the world praises the day.
Half the world is,
Half the world was,
Half the world thinks,
Half the world does.
Half the world lies,
Half the world burns,
Half the world cries
While the other half turns.
Half the world cares,
Half the world weeps,
Half the world shares,
Half the world keeps.
Half the world sings,
Half the world laughs,
Half the world brings,
Half the world tries to be the other half.
End.
Half The World
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Half the world hates
What half the world does every day
Half the world waits
While half gets on with it anyway
Half the world lives
Half the world makes
Half the world gives
While the other half takes
Half the world is
Half the world was
Half the world thinks
While the other half does
Half the world talks
With half a mind on what they say
Half the world walks
With half a mind to run away
Half the world lies
Half the world learns
Half the world flies
As half the world turns
Half the world cries
Half the world laughs
Half the world tries
To be the other half
Half of us divided like a torn-up photograph half of us are
Trying to reach the other half
Half the world cares
While half the world is wasting the day
Half the world shares
While half the world is stealing away
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Fairy Hunt
Who would hear the fairy horn
Calling all the hounds of Finn
Must be in a lark's nest born
When the moon is very thin.
I who have the gift can hear
Hounds and horn and tally ho,
And the tongue of Bran as clear
As Christmas bells across the snow.
And beside my secret place
Hurries by the fairy fox,
With the moonrise on his face,
Up and down the mossy rocks.
Then the music of a horn
And the flash of scarlet men,
Thick as poppies in the corn
All across the dusky glen.
Oh! the mad delight of chase!
Oh ! the shouting and the cheer !
Many an owl doth leave his place
In the dusty tree to hear.
poem by Francis Ledwidge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Misty Morning
In the misty morning
before the sun begins to rise
the world seems at peace with itself
right before our eyes.
No raised voices
to spoil our waking day,
just a sheltered silence
and the world seems
a million miles away.
In the misty morning
before the sun begins to rise.
27 March 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Squire
I LIKE the hunting of the hare
Better than that of the fox;
I like the joyous morning air,
And the crowing of the cocks.
I like the calm of the early fields,
The ducks asleep by the lake,
The quiet hour which Nature yields
Before mankind is awake.
I like the pheasants and feeding things
Of the unsuspicious morn;
I like the flap of the wood-pigeon’s wings
As she rises from the corn.
I like the blackbird’s shriek, and his rush
From the turnips as I pass by,
And the partridge hiding her head in a bush,
For her young ones cannot fly.
I like these things, and I like to ride,
When all the world is in bed,
To the top of the hill where the sky grows wide,
And where the sun grows red.
The beagles at my horse heels trot
In silence after me;
There ’s Ruby, Roger, Diamond, Dot,
Old Slut and Margery,—
A score of names well used, and dear,
The names my childhood knew;
The horn, with which I rouse their cheer,
Is the horn my father blew.
I like the hunting of the hare
Better than that of the fox;
The new world still is all less fair
Than the old world it mocks.
I covet not a wider range
Than these dear manors give;
I take my pleasures without change,
And as I lived I live.
I leave my neighbors to their thought;
My choice it is, and pride,
On my own lands to find my sport,
In my own fields to ride.
The hare herself no better loves
The field where she was bred,
Than I the habit of these groves,
My own inherited.
I know my quarries every one,
The meuse where she sits low;
The road she chose to-day was run
A hundred years ago.
The lags, the gills, the forest ways,
The hedgerows one and all,
These are the kingdoms of my chase,
And bounded by my wall;
Nor has the world a better thing,
Though one should search it round,
Than thus to live one’s own sole king,
Upon one’s own sole ground.
I like the hunting of the hare;
It brings me, day by day,
The memory of old days as fair,
With dead men passed away.
To these, as homeward still I ply
And pass the churchyard gate,
Where all are laid as I must lie,
I stop and raise my hat.
I like the hunting of the hare;
New sports I hold in scorn.
I like to be as my fathers were,
In the days e’er I was born.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Morning Dew
(bonnie dobson and tim rose)
Walk me out in the morning dew, my honey.
Please walk me out in the morning dew, sometime.
Cant walk you out in no morning dew. Im sorry, Im sorry.
Cant walk you out in no morning dew.
Thought I heard a young man cryin.
Thought I heard a young man cryin today.
You didnt hear no young man cryin.
You did not hear no young man cryin.
Thought I heard a young girl cryin.
Thought I heard a young girl cryin.
You, you did not hear no young girl cryin.
Im sorry but you know it is [true].
You did not hear no young man cryin.
Now there is no more morning dew.
Now there is no more morning dew.
What theyve been saying all these god-darn years has come true,
I knew it would too.
Now theres no more morning dew.
Now there is no more morning dew, at all, oh.
Now there is no more morning dew.
Because, because, because,
What theyve been saying all these years has come true,
You know, and only you know,
That theres no more morning dew.
Now, now there is no more morning dew.
People, you know that theres no more morning dew.
Because, because,
What theyve been saying all these years has come true,
It had to happen.
You know, that theres no more morning dew.
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Misty Water
By the town of straight and narrow,
Theres a dark and misty place.
Everything is hazy,
So the people are afraid.
All except marias daughters,
Who believe in misty ways.
Everything is lovely,
In a misty morning glaze.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
Take a sip of misty water.
Though maria is not lovely,
Shes the lady of my dreams.
cause I see my lady,
Through a misty, silky screen.
And seeing is believing,
But I cant believe my eyes.
Everything is lovely,
In a misty paradise.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.
They like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
Take a sip of misty water.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.
They like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters...
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children Of The Sea
In the misty morning, on the edge of time
Weve lost the rising sun, a final sign
As the misty morning rolls away to die
Reaching for the stars, we blind the sky
We sailed across the air before we learned to fly
We thought that it could never end
Wed glide above the ground before we learned to run, run
Now it seems our world has come undone
Oh they say that its over
And it just had to be
Ooh they say that its over
Were lost children of the sea, oh
We made the mountains shake with laughter as we played
Hiding in our corner of the world
Then we did the demon dance and rushed to nevermore
Threw away the key and locked the door
Oh they say that its over, yeah
And it just had to be
Yes they say that its over
Were lost children of the sea
In the misty morning, on the edge of time
Weve lost the rising sun, a final sign
As the misty morning rolls away to die
Reaching for the stars, we blind the sky
Oh they say that its over, yeah
And it just had to be
Oh they say that its over
Poor lost children of the sea, yeah
Look out! the sky is falling down!
Look out! the world is spinning round and round and round!
Look out! the sun is going black, black
Look out! its never never never coming back, look out!
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Morning
On
The sea...
Young morning...
Sun was
Raise...
Lite golden colour
Sun was
Climbing...
A great good bye for
With moon and night...
A very good morning for
With each every body...
Sun is
Not only sun...
Morning to evening
Poem...s..
Every people
Did not enjoy...
Every people
Wanted for
Evening and morning...
So...
Sun rises...
Is on sea...
Young morning is
Every day happen...
It natcher's beauty poem...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fugue For Tinhorns
I got the horse right here
His name is Paul Revier
And here's a guy who says if the weather's clear
Can do,can do
This guy says the horse can do
Can do ,can do
I'm picking valentine
Cause on the morning line
The guy has got him figured 5 to 9
Has a chance, has a chance
This guy say the horse has a chance
If he says the horse has a chance
Has a chance, has a chance
No way
For Paul Revier I'll bite
I hear his foots alright
Of course it all depends
If it rained last night
I know it's valentine
The morning word the find
Besides the jokey's brother's a friend of mind
Needs grace, needs grace
This guy says the horse needs grace
He says that the horse needs grace
Needs grace, needs grace
Hey wait a minute fellows
Have you consider this
Well anyway, it's my turn to sing
So shut up
Oh really
But look at appetat
He wins it by a hair
According to this here in the telegraphy
Big threat, big threat
This guy calls the horse big threat
If he calls the horse big threat
Big threat, big threat
I tell you Paul Revier
Now this is no bum stear
It's from my handy cap that is real sincere
I go from valentine
Cause on the morning line
The guy has got him figured 5 to 9
Has a chance, has a chance
The guy says the horse has a chance
Paul Revier
Valentine
Appatat
I got the horse right here
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Guys And Dolls Medley: Fuge For Tinhorns (feat. Michael Crawford And Hinton Battle)
I got the horse right here
his name is Paul Revier
and here's a guy who says if the weather's clear
can do,can do
this guy says the horse can do
can do ,can do
I'm picking valentine
cause on the morning line
the guy has got him figured 5 to 9
has a chance, has a chance
this guy say the horse has a chance
if he says the horse has a chance
has a chance, has a chance
no way
for Paul Revier I'll bite
I hear his foots alright
of course it all depends
if it rained last night
I know it's valentine
the morning word the find
besides the jokey's brother's a friend of mind
needs grace, needs grace
this guy says the horse needs grace
he says that the horse needs grace
needs grace, needs grace
hey wait a minute fellows
have you consider this
well anyway, it's my turn to sing
so shut up
oh really
but look at appetat
he wins it by a hair
according to this here in the telegraphy
big threat, big threat
this guy calls the horse big threat
if he calls the horse big threat
big threat, big threat
I tell you Paul Revier
now this is no bum stear
it's from my handy cap that is real sincere
I go from valentine
cause on the morning line
the guy has got him figured 5 to 9
has a chance, has a chance
the guy says the horse has a chance
Paul Revier
valentine
appatat
I got the horse right here
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stink My Death
'Stink my death till I smell bad, '
the Man to the rest of It said,
'Unflesh me with care and consume all the hair
that falls from the skin of my head, pale head,
the thin pallid skin of my head.
.
'Let me squat in this apologia,
stuff my gullet with humus and air,
for I've raped that fair maiden, fair Gaea,
and I don't even seem to care. Me care?
No, I don't even seem to care.
.
'I have eaten my fill of biota,
and I've bent all the rest to my will.
I have sung from a pyre of industrial fire,
but my urges are adamant still to kill.
Yes, my urges are adamant still.
.
'So if you should need me tomorrow,
with appropriate changes, of course,
my genes will be there in the 39th layer,
just over eohippus, the horse, dawn horse.
Just over eohippus, my horse.'
1998
poem by Mister Micawber
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inspired by Issa - A kite rises
a kite rises
twelve young eyes
too
twelve young eyes
a kite rises
into the sky
in 12 young eyes
a kite and
cear blue sky
twelve young eyes
rising in similar angle
a kite rises
inspired by
a kite rises
slow and easy...
a little village
-Issa,1816
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Me & My Horse
riding together,
you and your horse.
as you run against the wind all you call hear is-
the wind wipping your ears,
the horse's hooves thundering beneath you,
the chains of your bit as the horse pulls against the reins,
and the faint sound of the horse behind you.
your horse stops,
the horse behind you catches up.
the race is over,
freedom will have to wait until next time.
poem by Horse Lover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hunter’s Song
RISE! Sleep no more! ’T is a noble morn:
The dews hang thick on the fringed thorn,
And the frost shrinks back, like a beaten hound,
Under the steaming, steaming ground.
Behold, where the billowy clouds flow by,
And leave us alone in the clear gray sky!
Our horses are ready and steady.—So, ho!
I ’m gone, like a dart from the Tartar’s bow.
Hark, hark!—Who calleth the maiden Morn
From her sleep in the woods and the stubble corn?
The horn,—the horn!
The merry, sweet ring of the hunter’s horn.
Now, thorough the copse, where the fox is found,
And over the stream, at a mighty bound,
And over the high lands, and over the low,
O’er furrows, o’er meadows, the hunters go!
Away!—as a hawk flies full at its prey,
So flieth the hunter, away,—away!
From the burst at the cover till set of sun,
When the red fox dies, and—the day is done!
Hark, hark!—What sound on the wind is borne?
’T is the conquering voice of the hunter’s horn.
The horn,—the horn!
The merry, bold voice of the hunter’s horn.
Sound! Sound the horn! To the hunter good
What ’s the gulley deep or the roaring flood?
Right over he bounds, as the wild stag bounds,
At the heels of his swift, sure, silent hounds.
O, what delight can a mortal lack,
When he once is firm on his horse’s back,
With his stirrups short, and his snaffle strong,
And the blast of the horn for his morning song?
Hark, hark!—Now, home! and dream till morn
Of the bold, sweet sound of the hunter’s horn!
The horn,—the horn!
O, the sound of all sounds is the hunter’s horn!
poem by Barry Cornwall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Furrow
An old horse to the furrow - an old man to the plough -
For the young horse and the young lad, they're needed yonder now -
The horse, so young and mettled he scarce had known the rein,
That shook his feathered fetlocks and tossed his streaming mane -
The lad that used to drive him, so strong and straight and tall,
That dressed him fine with ribbons and groomed him in the stall.
Ah, there as here, old Captain, we know, both I and you,
He'll drive a straight furrow as he always used to do!
The clods before the ploughshare fall heavily apart,
But never a clod among them so heavy as my heart -
To smell the clean earth breaking and the kind country smells,
And think o' the stink and reek there, and the bursting o' the shells.
An old horse to the furrow - an old man to the plough -
And the young horse and the young lad . . . how fare they yonder now?
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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Woman's Work
early in the morning she rises
the woman's work is never done
and it's not because she doesn't try
she's fighting a battle with no one on her side
she rises up in the morning
and she works 'til way past dusk
the woman better slow down
or she's gonna come down hard
early in the morning she rises
the woman's work is never done
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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High Horse
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
And get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Moonlit shadow, she starts a trippin' firelight
Jumpin' the trees lyin' across the right of way
Silvery mornin' it glistens down the valley
But she don't stop 'til we ride the night away
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Blonde braids tangle at the misty break of mornin'
Catchin' light through a dusty window pane
Lost in lust, in denial of the warnin'
She digs her heels in this stallion's flank again
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Get up on your high horse, woman
You paid the price, you get to play
Get up on your high horse, woman
You're gonna ride to the break of day
To the break of day
To the break of day
To the break of day
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Get up on your high horse, woman
You paid the price, you get to play
Get up on your high horse, woman
You're gonna ride to the break of day
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Misty Eyes
Life hasn't been the same for some time now
With the dark taking light some way, some how
And, I'm alone, unable to disguise
That now I see this world through misty eyes
Hasn't been long since you were here with me
I still hear that laugh, setting my heart free
But, oh, how all these precious moments fly
Now, I walk this road with these misty eyes
Perhaps life is meant to be seen this way
Perhaps joy isn't meant for me each day
Perhaps I'm to reprise those last goodbyes
Daily my heart dies and brings misty eyes
It dies as it remembers its demise
And so, each day I see through misty eyes
((July 12th,2008))
poem by Danny Speicher
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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