A Serenade
Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh
The sun has left the lea,
The orange-flower perfumes the bower,
The breeze is on the sea.
The lark, his lay who trill’d all day,
Sits hush’d his partner nigh;
Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour,
But where is County Guy?
The village maid steals through the shade
Her shepherd’s suit to hear;
To Beauty shy, by lattice high,
Sings high-born Cavalier.
The star of Love, all stars above,
Now reigns o’er earth and sky,
And high and low the influence know—
But where is County Guy?
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Related quotes
Song -- County Guy
Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh,
The sun has left the lea,
The orange flower perfumes the bower,
The breeze is on the sea.
The lark his lay who thrill'd all day
Sits hush'd his partner nigh:
Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour,
But where is County Guy?
The village maid steals through the shade,
Her shepherd's suit to hear;
To beauty shy, by lattice high,
Sings high-born Cavalier.
The star of Love, all stars above
Now reigns o'er earth and sky;
And high and low the influence know-
But where is County Guy?
poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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County Guy
Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh,
The sun has left the lea,
The orange flower perfumes the bower,
The breeze is on the sea.
The lark his lay who thrill'd all day
Sits hush'd his partner nigh:
Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour,
But where is County Guy?
The village maid steals through the shade,
Her shepherd's suit to hear;
To beauty shy, by lattice high,
Sings high-born Cavalier.
The star of Love, all stars above
Now reigns o'er earth and sky;
And high and low the influence know--
But where is County Guy?
poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Country Guy
Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh,
The sun has left the lea,
The orange flower perfumes the bower,
The breeze is on the sea.
The lark his lay who thrill'd all day
Sits hush'd his partner nigh:
Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour,
But where is County Guy?
The village maid steals through the shade,
Her shepherd's suit to hear;
To beauty shy, by lattice high,
Sings high-born Cavalier.
The star of Love, all stars above
Now reigns o'er earth and sky;
And high and low the influence know--
But where is County Guy?
poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I've a Secret to Tell Thee
I've a secret to tell thee, but hush! not here --
Oh! not where the world its vigil keeps:
I'll seek, to whisper it in thine ear,
Some shore where the Spirit of Silence sleeps;
Where Summer's wave unmurmuring dies,
Nor fay can hear the fountain's gush;
Where, if but a note her night-bird sighs,
The rose saith, chidingly, "Hush, sweet, hush!"
There, amid the deep silence of that hour,
When stars can be heard in ocean dip,
Thyself shall, under some rosy bower,
Sit mute, with thy finger on thy lip:
Like him, the boy, who born among
The flowers that on the Nile-stream blush,
Sits ever thus -- his only song
To earth and heaven, "Hush, all, hush!"
poem by Thomas Moore
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Fulfillment
I GREW a rose once more to please mine eyes.
All things to aid it — dew, sun, wind, fair skies —
Were kindly; and to shield it from despoil,
I fenced it safely in with grateful toil.
No other hand than mine shall pluck this flower, said I,
And I was jealous of the bee that hovered nigh.
It grew for days; I stood hour after hour
To watch the slow unfolding of the flower,
And then I did not leave its side at all,
Lest some mischance my flower should befall.
At last, oh joy! the central petals burst apart.
It blossomed — but, alas! a worm was at its heart!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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To His Coy One
SEEST thou yon smiling Orange?
Upon the tree still hangs it;
Already March bath vanish'd,
And new-born flow'rs are shooting.
I draw nigh to the tree then,
And there I say: Oh Orange,
Thou ripe and juicy Orange,
Thou sweet and luscious Orange,
I shake the tree, I shake it,
Oh fall into my lap!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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The Rose Means Peace
In Heaven there is a flower
With petals that never die.
A picture seen near the byway
Where golden pebbles lie.
In Heaven there is a bower
Of plants and leaves that cry:
Cry out with lasting glory
In the Land where angels fly.
A rose means 'peace' in Heaven
In that garden beyond the sky,
And all who enter through the gates
will sense their God is nigh.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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The Swallows
From Jean Pierre Claris Florian
I love to see the swallows come
At my window twittering,
Bringing from their southern home
News of the approaching spring.
'Last year's nest,' they softly say,
'Last year's love again shall see;
Only faithful lovers may
Tell you of the coming glee.'
When the first fell touch of frost
Strips the wood of faded leaves,
Calling all their wingèd host,
The swallows meet above the eaves
'Come away, away,' they cry,
'Winter's snow is hastening;
True hearts winter comes not nigh,
They are ever in the spring.'
If by some unhappy fate,
Victim of a cruel mind,
One is parted from her mate
And within a cage confined,
Swiftly will the swallow die,
Pining for her lover's bower,
And her lover watching nigh
Dies beside her in an hour.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Song. Where dost thou bide
WHERE dost thou bide, blessed soul of my love!
Is ether thy dwelling, O whisper me where!
Rapt in remembrance, while lonely I rove,
I gaze on bright clouds, and I fancy thee there.
Or to thy bower when musing I go,
I think, 't is thy voice that I hear in the breeze;
Softly it seems to speak peace to my woe,
And life once again for a moment can please.
If this be phrensy alone, 't is so dear,
That long may the pleasing delusion be nigh;
Still Ellen's voice in the breeze may I hear,
Still see in bright clouds the kind beams of her eye!
poem by Amelia Opie
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Far Was Peace And Trouble Nigh
far was peace and trouble nigh
nation east of Niger sought to split
for a new nation hope was high
as one nation they chose not to use
three years gone came a truce no refuse
far was peace and trouble nigh
gentleman Abu TB was chilled on sit
and just before we took a relief sigh
there was another Dodan baracks kill
whose bad we all now suffer still
far was peace and trouble nigh
flames of discord all over were lit
even tribal tension rose to the sky
as MKO fought in vain for a mandate
what we saw was bloodshed on that date
far was peace and trouble nigh
A man took power and refuse to quit
hunger killed but he blinked not an eye
his rule of hate tore them all apart
till the gods came to stop his heart
far was peace and trouble nigh
from Jona came an austerity kit
raised petrol to a price they can't buy
they fought and it took over a week
for him to see the people aren't weak
poem by Ray Anyasi
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Spring Song
A BLUE-BELL springs upon the ledge,
A lark sits singing in the hedge;
Sweet perfumes scent the balmy air,
And life is brimming everywhere.
What lark and breeze and bluebird sing,
Is Spring, Spring, Spring!
No more the air is sharp and cold;
The planter wends across the wold,
And, glad, beneath the shining sky
We wander forth, my love and I.
And ever in our hearts doth ring
This song of Spring, Spring!
For life is life and love is love,
'Twixt maid and man or dove and dove.
Life may be short, life may be long,
But love will come, and to its song
Shall this refrain for ever cling
Of Spring, Spring, Spring!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Dawn
Quiet miles of golden sky,
And in my heart a sudden flower.
I want to clap my hands and cry
For Beauty in her secret bower.
Quiet golden miles of dawn—
Smiling all the East along ;
And in my heart nigh fully blown,
A little rose-bud of a song.
poem by Francis Ledwidge
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Spring's Bower
Spring’s Bower
Ah! Woe is me the veil I see
The veil of death hangs lower.
And e’re my spirit passes from me
I will see again Spring’s Bower.
Awaiting death must stay his hand
For my life has one more hour.
And tho’ I close my eyes this day
I will again see Spring’s Bower.
“Tis tho’ my life were but a thread
Of what life had to shower.
There is still just time before I’m dead,
Time enough to see Spring’s Bower
Take me I pray to the window seat,
Clutch to thy breast the flower
Which I plucked when last we did meet,
'Neath our beautiful Spring Bower.
poem by Robert Harrison
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Orange Crash
Follow me, don't follow me
I've got my spine, I've got my orange crush
Collar me, don't collar me
I've got my spine, I've got my orange crush
We are agents of the free
I've had my fun and now its time to
Serve your conscience overseas (over me, not over me)
Coming in fast, over me
(repeat verse)
High on the roof,
thin the blood,
another one climbs on the waves tonight,
comin' in, you're home
We'd circle and we'd circle and we'd circle to stop and consider and
centered on the pavement stacked up all the trucks jacked up and
our wheels in slush and orange crush in pocket and all this here county
hell any county it's just like heaven here and I was remembering and I
was just in a different county and all then this whirlybird that I
headed for I had my goggles pulled off I knew it all I knew every back
road and every truck stop
(repeat verse and chorus
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Fervent Praise Of Picnics
Picnics is fun 'at's purty hard to beat.
I purt'-nigh ruther go to them than _eat_.
I purt'-nigh ruther go to them than go
With our Char_lot_ty to the Trick-Dog Show.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Orange Crush
Follow me, dont follow me
Ive got my spine, Ive got my orange crush
Collar me, dont collar me
Ive got my spine, Ive got my orange crush
We are agents of the free
Ive had my fun and now its time to
Serve your conscience overseas (over me, not over me)
Coming in fast, over me
(repeat verse)
High on the roof,
Thin the blood,
Another one ____ on the waves tonight,
Comin in, youre home
Wed circle and wed circle and wed circle to stop and consider and
Centered on the pavement stacked up all the trucks jacked up and
Our wheels in slush and orange crush in pocket and all this here county
Hell any county its just like heaven here and I was remembering and i
Was just in a differnet county and all then this whirlybird that i
Headed for I had my goggles pulled off I knew it all I knew every back
Road and every truck stop
(repeat verse and chorus)
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Light Years
Bear not the night
As being your fate
For 'tis the death
Near Hell's molten gate;
Let not your heart
Be influenced of dark
For nigh 'tis the light of day
For bright 'tis your spark;
Evil 'tis not your place
For you embrace the sky
An Angel in the making
When Heaven 'tis nigh;
By: Theodora Onken
June 19,2012
poem by Theodora Onken
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Charms
She walks as lightly as the fly
Skates on the water in July.
To hear her moving petticoat
For me is music's highest note.
Stones are not heard, when her feet pass,
No more than tumps of moss or grass.
When she sits still, she's like the flower
To be a butterfly next hour.
The brook laughs not more sweet, when he
Trips over pebbles suddenly.
My Love, like him, can whisper low --
When he comes where green cresses grow.
She rises like the lark, that hour
He goes halfway to meet a shower.
A fresher drink is in her looks
Than Nature gives me, or old books.
When I in my Love's shadow sit,
I do not miss the sun one bit.
When she is near, my arms can hold
All that's worth having in this world.
And when I know not where she is,
Nothing can come but comes amiss.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Sudden Shower
Black grows the southern sky, betokening rain,
And humming hive-bees homeward hurry bye:
They feel the change; so let us shun the grain,
And take the broad road while our feet are dry.
Ay, there some dropples moistened on my face,
And pattered on my hat--tis coming nigh!
Let's look about, and find a sheltering place.
The little things around, like you and I,
Are hurrying through the grass to shun the shower.
Here stoops an ash-tree--hark! the wind gets high,
But never mind; this ivy, for an hour,
Rain as it may, will keep us dryly here:
That little wren knows well his sheltering bower,
Nor leaves his dry house though we come so near.
poem by John Clare
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This blue eyed forever
this blue eyed forever
that's resting in the sky
I took but a hint always coming nigh
too nigh for a breath to draw a line of eyes
still far away from earth and its clay disguise
somehow in between my lips tenderly part
to kiss a bird of a whisper and its tiny heart
to leave the on the altar that spoke of ash and burn
to put its words in silence a burden oblivion urn
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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