Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair
1 I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair,
2 Borne, like a vapor, on the summer air;
3 I see her tripping where the bright streams play,
4 Happy as the daisies that dance on her way.
5 Many were the wild notes her merry voice would pour.
6 Many were the blithe birds that warbled them o'er:
7 Oh! I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair,
8 Floating, like a vapor, on the soft summer air.
9 I long for Jeanie with the daydawn smile,
10 Radiant in gladness, warm with winning guile;
11 I hear her melodies, like joys gone by,
12 Sighing round my heart o'er the fond hopes that die: --
13 Sighing like the night wind and sobbing like the rain, --
14 Wailing for the lost one that comes not again:
15 Oh! I long for Jeanie, and my heart bows low,
16 Never more to find her where the bright waters flow.
17 I sigh for Jeanie, but her light form strayed
18 Far from the fond hearts round her native glade;
19 Her smiles have vanished and her sweet songs flown,
20 Flitting like the dreams that have cheered us and gone.
21 Now the nodding wild flowers may wither on the shore
22 While her gentle fingers will cull them no more:
23 Oh! I sigh for Jeanie with the light brown hair,
24 Floating, like a vapor, on the soft summer air.
poem by Stephen C. Foster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Sitting In The Palmtree
See me sitting in the palmtree
Looking down at people passing by
Sitting here no-one can harm me
They just stare at me and wonder why
No need to bother, Im gonna stay up here
Whatever happens, I wont let no-one near
Until you tell me, jeanie jeanie on my mind, wont you please
You really love me, jeanie jeanie youre so fine, yes you are now
And in the evening, when the sun goes down
Ill be the bluest of men in this town
cause I love you, jeanie jeanie on my mind
See me sitting in the palmtree
Waiting for those little words from you
People laugh and point their fingers
Like I was a monkey at the zoo
But I will stay here, among my coconuts
So you will know dear, youre everything Ive got
Now wont you tell me, jeanie jeanie on my mind
Winds blow, stars glow, I see a light in a window
Dark trees, soft breeze, carry my message to her please
See me sitting in the palmtree
Feeling angry at the silly crowd
No-one else but you can calm me
You should know by now Im far too proud
I need to show you, Ive got my feelings too
You shouldnt treat me like you always do
So wont you tell me, jeanie jeanie on my mind, wont you please
You really love me, jeanie jeanie youre so fine, yes you are now
And in the evening, when the sun goes down
Ill be the bluest of men in this town
cause I love you, jeanie jeanie on my mind
Jeanie jeanie youre so fine
Jeanie jeanie on my mind
Jeanie jeanie youre so fine
Jeanie jeanie on my mind
Jeanie jeanie youre so fine
(fade)
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Catch Me If You Can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Do ya, do ya really wanna try, ohh my...
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Do ya, do ya really wanna try, my, my, my...
Sweet magicians daughter, weaving spells my way
You know I want to be with you, but magic words are all you say
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Do ya, do ya really wanna try, my, my...
Merlins magic daughter, I know thats what you are
Im playing magic games with you, its easier to guide a star
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Do ya, do ya really wanna try, my...woo
Magic lady waiting, your palace walls are tall
I can wait forever, but Im climbing up the palace wall
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Do ya, do ya really wanna try, ohhh, my, my, my, my...
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Do ya, do ya really wanna try, my...
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bonie Jean: A Ballad
To its ain tune.
There was a lass, and she was fair,
At kirk or market to be seen;
When a’ our fairest maids were met,
The fairest maid was bonie Jean.
And aye she wrought her mammie’s wark,
And aye she sang sae merrilie;
The blythest bird upon the bush
Had ne’er a lighter heart than she.
But hawks will rob the tender joys
That bless the little lintwhite’s nest;
And frost will blight the fairest flowers,
And love will break the soundest rest.
Young Robie was the brawest lad,
The flower and pride of a’ the glen;
And he had owsen, sheep, and kye,
And wanton naigies nine or ten.
He gaed wi’ Jeanie to the tryste,
He danc’d wi’ Jeanie on the down;
And, lang ere witless Jeanie wist,
Her heart was tint, her peace was stown!
As in the bosom of the stream,
The moon-beam dwells at dewy e’en;
So trembling, pure, was tender love
Within the breast of bonie Jean.
And now she works her mammie’s wark,
And aye she sighs wi’ care and pain;
Yet wist na what her ail might be,
Or what wad make her weel again.
But did na Jeanie’s heart loup light,
And didna joy blink in her e’e,
As Robie tauld a tale o’ love
Ae e’ening on the lily lea?
The sun was sinking in the west,
The birds sang sweet in ilka grove;
His cheek to hers he fondly laid,
And whisper’d thus his tale o’ love:
“O Jeanie fair, I lo’e thee dear;
O canst thou think to fancy me,
Or wilt thou leave thy mammie’s cot,
And learn to tent the farms wi’ me?
“At barn or byre thou shalt na drudge,
Or naething else to trouble thee;
But stray amang the heather-bells,
And tent the waving corn wi’ me.”
Now what could artless Jeanie do?
She had nae will to say him na:
At length she blush’d a sweet consent,
And love was aye between them twa.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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From the Rude Bustling Camp
From the rude bustling camp, to the calm rural plain,
I'm come, my dear Jeanie, to bless thee again;
Still burning for honour our warriors may roam,
But the laurel I wish'd for I've won it at home:
All the glories of conquest no joy could impart,
When far from the kind little girl of my heart
Now, safely return'd, I will leave thee no more
But love my dear Jeannie till life's latest hour.
The sweets of retirement how pleasing to me!
Possessing all worth, my dear Jeanie, in thee !
Our flocks early bleating will make us to joy,
And our raptures exceed the warm tints in the sky;
In sweet rural pastimes our days still will glide,
Till Time, looking back, will admire at* his speed;
Still blooming in virtue, though youth them be o'er,
I'll love my dear Jeanie till life's latest hour.
poem by Robert Tannahill
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer Light...
Summer Light -Thru the Trees
Summer Light - Spotted Me
Summer Light - Palest Gold
Summer Light - Bright and Bold
I Saw Summer Light Descend
Summer Light, Made Shadows Bend
Summer Light, On An Emerald Pond
I Reached Out… It Touched My Palm
Summer Light, It Fell Like Powder
Or a Floating Incandescent Feather
Came Down, Like A Sheer, White Swan
Summer Light – Lifted Wing-Like Arms
So Sunrays Slanted – Shone-Misty
Summer Light-Beams, Embraced Me
Warm, Wonderful Summer Light
Touch Me Tender, Solar- Might
Summer Light, When I Was Lost
Summer Light, Found Me Before Frost
Summer Light - None Else Looked For Me…
Summer Light Said, “I Always See…”
I Love Summer Light
poem by MoonBee Canady
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sing A Song Of Stephen Foster's
Sing a song of Stephen Foster's a song from long ago
Sing 'Jeanie with the light brown hair' or even 'Old black Joe'
Or sing my 'Old Kentucky home' for that would please me so
Or 'old folks at home' or 'Oh Susanna' to the strains of the banjo.
I hate to hurt your feelings sir but to you I must say no
For I've never heard of this Foster and his songs I do not know
It's the first that I've heard tell of him, never heard of him before
Is he some old ballad monger dead one hundred years or more? .
So you've never heard of Stephen Foster then it only goes to show
That you are not a true folk singer when his songs you do not know
He was America's greatest song writer and his is an undying fame
And I find it hard to believe that you've not heard of his name.
So you can't sing a song of Stephen Foster's, then I'll go elsewhere for beer
For to hear one of his oft sung songs the reason I come here
The drinks are dearer here tonight just to cover your fee
And you can't even sing a Stephen Foster song for me.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Broken Wings
Little Jeanie Cried, she believed in all his lies
so much for being good, oh.
Johnny did not rest he did what he thought was best,
he did the best he could.
Don't try to see the world in different ways
Those moments and all those days.
Don't let them faint away.
On Broken Wings
I guess that's how you'll have to fly
two broken hearts
across the sky
Now he's feeling bad
his heart is cold it's o so sad
somehow he did her wrong, yeaheah
Little Jeanie's heart
is melting fast ow so fast.
Now she feels so strong
Don't try to see the world in different ways
Those moments and all those days
Don't let them faint away.
On Broken Wings
I guess that's how you'll have to fly
two broken hearts
across the sky.
Don't try to see the world in different ways
Those moments and all those days
Don't let them faint away.
song performed by by Europe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Summer Dream
Deep waters flow, out to the sea,
They never needed you or me.
One summer dream, one summer dream.
Blue mountains high and valley low,
I dont know which way I should go,
One summer dream, one summer dream.
Warm summer breeze blows endlessly,
Touching the hearts of those who feel,
One summer dream, one summer dream.
Bird on wing goes floating by,
But theres a teardrop in his eye,
One summer dream, one summer dream.
One summer dream, one summer dream.
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dead Roses
He placed a rose in my nut-brown hair--
A deep red rose with a fragrant heart
And said: 'We'll set this day apart,
So sunny, so wondrous fair.'
His face was full of a happy light,
His voice was tender and low and sweet,
The daisies and the violets grew at our feet--
Alas, for the coming of night!
The rose is black and withered and dead!
'Tis hid in a tiny box away;
The nut-brown hair is turning to gray,
And the light of the day is fled!
The light of the beautiful day is fled,
Hush'd is the voice so sweet and low--
And I--ah, me! I loved him so--
And the daisies grow over his head!
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bird's Release
Go forth, for she is gone!
With the golden light of her wavy hair,
She is gone to the fields of the viewless air;
She hath left her dwelling lone!
Her voice hath pass'd away!
It hath pass'd away like a summer breeze,
When it leaves the hills for the far blue seas,
Where we may not trace its way.
Go forth, and like her be free!
With thy radiant wing, and thy glancing eye,
Thou hast all the range of the sunny sky,
And what is our grief to thee?
Is it aught ev'n to her we mourn?
Doth she look on the tears by her kindred shed?
Doth she rest with the flowers o'er her gentle head,
Or float on the light wind borne?
We know not-but she is gone!
Her step from the dance, her voice from the song,
And the smile of her eye from the festal throng;-
-She hath left her dwelling lone!
When the waves at sunset shine,
We may hear thy voice, amidst thousands more,
In the scented woods of our glowing shore,
But we shall not know 'tis thine!
Ev'n so with the lov'd one flown!
Her smile in the starlight may wander by,
Her breath may be near in the wind's low sigh,
Around us-but all unknown.
Go forth, we have loos'd thy chain!
We may deck thy cage with the richest flowers,
Which the bright day rears in our eastern bowers,
But thou wilt not be lur'd again.
Ev'n thus may the summer pour
All fragrant things on the land's green breast,
And the glorious earth like a bride be dress'd,
But it wins her back no more!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You know Hollywood is a weird and wonderful place, I didn't know I Dream of Jeanie had been cancelled after 5 years until I went back to go on the lot to pick up some clothes and things I had in my dressing room.
quote by Larry Hagman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The battle had passed from the height
The battle has passed from the height,
And still did evening fall;
While heaven with its restful night
Gloriously canopied all.
The dead around were sleeping
On heath and granite grey,
And the dying their last watch were keeping
In the closing of the day.
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How golden bright from earth and heaven
The summer day declines!
How gloriously o'er land and sea
The parting sunbeam shines!
There is a voice in the wind that waves
Those bright rejoicing trees.
Not a vapour had stained the breezeless blue,
Not a cloud had dimmed the sun,
From the time of morning's earliest dew
Till the summer day was done.
And all as pure and all as bright
The sun of evening died,
And purer still its parting light
Shone on Lake Elnor's tide.
Waveless and calm lies that silent deep
In its wilderness of moors,
Solemn and soft the moonbeams sleep
Upon its heathy shores.
The deer are gathered to their rest,
The wild sheep seek the fold.
Only some spires of bright green grass
Transparently in sunshine quivering.
The sun has set, and the long grass now
Waves dreamily in the evening wind;
And the wild bird has flown from that old grey stone,
In some warm nook a couc hto find.
In all the lonely landscape round
I see no light and hear no sound,
Except the wind that far away
Comes sighing o'er the healthy sea.
Lady, in thy palace hall,
Once perchance thy face was seen;
Can no memory now recall
Thought again to what has been?
poem by Emily Brontë from The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë (1908)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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My Love Outshines The Summer Sun (Sonnet Corona)
(after William Shakespeare)
I
My love outshines the summer sun,
even stars in their remote twinkling light
and her eyes are more beautiful, each one
than the stars glimmering at night
Her cheeks is dimpled cute
her hair is an auburn crown,
her cheeks is rosy beyond repute
her hair is sun-shot twisting in a way of their own.
Her lips are more soft and warm
and her spirit is more mild
than a ray of light falling on my arm
or at times more free and wild
than birds where they fly,
my love is like the radiant sapphire sky.
II
My love is like the radiant sapphire sky
like the breeze rustling through trees
so lovely on my eye,
eager to please.
My love is like the summer sun,
like the blue hued sea
always warm and full of fun,
touching me gently
even when the darkness calls
and when time goes to its finality
like a star her light still falls,
my love stays true to me
in every thing her face I see
so gentle, sweet and free.
III
So gentle, sweet and free
my love lives her life
but I long for her to be near to me
in a world without any strive.
Like a lily prospering alone in the marsh
blooming pure and serene,
my darling lives unknown to a world harsh
out of control, away from the limelight scene
and in that rural place
her beauty is untouched by makeup,
filled with a sweet grace
and even in the morning when she wakes up
the sun is in her hair,
my darling is really fair.
IV
My darling is really fair
there are stars in her eyes,
she’s the most beautiful flower found anywhere,
her eyes are much more pure than the bluest skies.
When she smiles at me,
smiling tenderly,
I in her smile blessings see
as if love is there in all of its glory.
Still more so the bliss
that is caught in her kiss
that comes from the divine
which she is making mine
and sometimes the beauty makes her cry,
when the day flutters by.
V
When the day flutters by
with the sun setting red
you will find my love and I
where stars come out from bed,
then like a butterfly
the sun kisses the night,
touches the dark low and high
before it goes by with its last light
and she unloosens my tie
while we watch the full yellow moon,
while the fire in her eyes lie
sparkling, much brighter than the sunny afternoon,
but with a passing bat flying low she catches a fright,
while the stars are shining bright.
VII
While the stars are shining bright
like jewels in the sky’s crown
on a winter night
it has tranquillity, a beauty of its own,
her eyes are radiant,
as if aflame
lovely and brilliant
and of some she know the name
and something indiscernibly small
creeps into the very soul, into the heart
and of it that is all,
a smouldering, something with which we cannot part:
to me she remains the only one in joy and fun,
my love outshines the summer sun.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dream Real
A pelt of down
feather-light
floats near by,
its gentle face
summer bright,
landing upon
my sleeping heart
to warm its cockles
in the night.
lt slumbers on
re-assured
that the Soul's Cloth
rests too
there
that night.
I wish to be for you my dear
a downy pelt
come floating down
in your Dreamy Sleep
wrapping round
our
Double Dream
of you and l
Love's Loving Twins;
laid down
in rosy bed
this night
swapping
mutual dreams
under pelt down
synchronizing
dream for dream.
Who knows
maybe
l only exist
because you dream me
and l
you each night.
ln either case
l will keep dreaming you
and you l
for these are
the best dreams
of my life
and remarkably
l awake each
day
to see
you are my reality
inside my dream.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Splendor Of The Days
Sweet and shrill the crickets hiding in the grasses brown and lean
Pipe their gladness-sweeter, shriller-one would think the world was green.
O the haze is on the hilltops, and the haze is on the lake!
See it fleeing through the valley with the bold wind in its wake!
Mark the warm October haze!
Mark the splendor of the days!
And the mingling of the crimson with the sombre brown and grays!
See the bare hills turn their furrows to the shine and to the glow;
If you listen you can hear it, hear a murmur soft and low-
'We are naked,' so the fields say, 'stripped of all our golden dress.'
'Heed it not,' October answers, 'for I love ye none the less.
Share my beauty and my cheer
While we rest together here,
In these sun-filled days of languor, in these late days of the year.'
All the splendor of the summer, all the springtime's light and grace,
All the riches of the harvest, crown her head and light her face;
And the wind goes sighing, sighing, as if loath to let her pass,
While the crickets sing exultant in the lean and withered grass.
O the warm October haze!
O the splendor of the days!
O the mingling of the crimson with the sombre brown and grays!
poem by Jean Blewett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flippie comes and lies with me
Flippie comes and lies with me
and she wants to know,
why you are staying away
for so long
and her dog eyes
watches me.
Kyla swings her big tail
and is very glad to see me,
but goes away to wait for you
for she hopes
to see you before the night.
Jeanie lays at the gate
and watches the street into the dark,
to see if you come
and she moans
when I call her to come in.
Slowly the day’s pass
while we wait on you
and I wonder if they
are treating you well
and the tea is nice,
but I drink it alone
and I know well
that our time on this earth
is just borrowed.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My name is ricky
i buy and sell pigs
And i am living in one of the islands in the Philippines.
Me and Jeanie.
I almost forgot are still planning to marry.
If my marriage gets annulled finally next year this February.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Light
Light that can be kind. Light that can smell sweet. Light that can be soft.
Light that can be porcelain. Light that can be silent. Light that can speak.
Light that can hold many colors. Light that can be romantic. Light that can be harsh.
Light that can be cold. Light that can be warm. Light that can be dry.
Light that can be loud. Light that can be love. Light that can be faith.
Light that can be full of strength. Light that can be pure. Light that can be dark.
Light that can be fragile. Light that can be crazy. Light that can be weird.
Light that can be old. Light that can be new. Light that can be inbetween.
Light that can be swift. Light that can be sharp. Light that can wonder.
Light that can be insane. Light that can be smooth. Light that can dream.
Light that can be free. Light that can be everlasting. Light that can be wild.
Light that is the lord. Light that is Jesus. Light that is holy.
Light that is the trinity. Light that can belong. Light that can be fast.
Light that can sing. Light that is the holy ghost. Light that is the Bible.
Light that can be a mith. Light that can be still. Light that can be different.
Light that can be hole. Light that can be true. Light that can be whimsical.
Light that can be bright. Light that can be formed. Light that is blessed.
Light that can be full of presence. Light that can tell a story. Light that can be intelligent.
Light that is like no other!
poem by Shania K. Younce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Brown Study
LET them sing of their primrose and cowslip,
Their daffodil-gold-coloured hair,
Their bluebells, blue eyes, and white violets,
All the pale dreamy things they find fair;
Give me stir of brown leaves in the sunshine,
The whir of brown wings through the wheat,
The rush of brown hares through the clover,
And the light in brown eyes of my sweet!
Gold hair? Well, I never could love it,
Yet gold, I suppose, has its worth;
The head that I love is as dusky
As the breast of our mother, the earth;
With a gleam like the shine of wet seaweed,
Round pools that the tide has left clear,
And warm like the breast of a linnet,
And as brown, is the hair of my dear.
From the edge of the cliff we look downwards
On the shore, and the bay, and the town,
And brown is the short turf we lean on,
The fishing-boats' sails are all brown:
The sky may be blue--that's the background,--
But the picture itself, to be fair,
However it's shaded and varied,
Should be brown as the dress that you wear.
A lark bursts to sudden sweet singing--
That tuft of brown grass is his home--
And now, a brown speck, he is rising
Against the clear windy sky-dome;
And he sings--how I know? Love instructs me
To know all his notes, what they mean--
That it isn't the colour I care for,
But yourself, oh, my gipsy, my queen!
Ah! the lark knows my heart--I his language;
It's my heart he sings out to the skies;
It is you that I love, and what matter
The colour of hair or of eyes?
No doubt I should love you as dearly
Were your hair like an apricot's down,
And your eyes like the grey of the morning;
But I'm glad, all the same, that they're brown.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Fever-Dream
IT was a fever-dream; I lay
Awake, as in the broad bright day,
But faint and worn I drew my breath
Like those who wait for coming death;
And my hand lay helpless on my pillow
Weak as a reed or bending willow;
And the night-lamp, with its shadowy veil,
And its light so sickly, faint, and pale,
Gleamed mournfully on objects round;
And the clock's stroke was the only sound;
Measuring the hours of silent time
With a heavy and unwelcome chime,
As still monotonously true
To its pulse-like beat, the minutes flew.
I was alone, but not asleep;
Too weary, and too wetk to weep.
My eyes had closed in sadness there;
And they who watched o'er my despair
Had placed that dim light in the room,
And deepened the surrounding gloom,
By curtaining out the few sad rays
Which made things present to my gaze;
And all because they vainly thought
At last the night its rest had brought,--
Alas! rest came no more to me
So heavy was my misery!
They left me, and my heart was filled
With wandering dreams, whose fancies thrilled
Painfully through my feeble brain,
Till I almost wished them back again.
Yet wherefore should I bid them stay?
They could not chase those dreams away,
But only watch me as I lay.
They left me, and the midnight stroke
From the old clock the silence broke;
And with a wild repining sigh
I wished it were my time to die!
And then, with spirit all dismayed,
For that wild wish, forgiveness prayed,
Humbling myself to God's high power
To bear His will, and wait His hour.
And while I darkly rested there,
The breath of a young child's floating hair,
Perfumed, and warm, and glistening bright,
Swept past me in the shrouding night;--
And the footsteps of children, light and quick,
(While my heart beat loud, and my breath came thick)
Went to and fro on the silent floor;--
And the lock was turned in the fastened door,
As a child may turn it, who tiptoe stands
With his fair round arms and his dimpled hands,
Putting out all their strength in vain
Admittance by his own means to gain:
Till his sweet impatient voice is heard
Like the chirp of a young imprisoned bird,
Seeking an entrance still to win
By fond petitions to those within.
A child's soft shadowy hair, bright smiles,
His merry laugh, and coaxing wiles,
These are sweet things,--most precious things,--
But in spite of my brain's wild wanderings,
I knew that they dwelt in my fancy only,
And that I was sad, and left, and lonely;
And the fear of a dreadful madness came
And withered my soul like a parching flame;
And I felt the strong delirium growing,
And the thread of my feeble senses going,
And I heard with a horror all untold
Which turned my hot blood icy-cold,
Those light steps draw more near my bed;
And by visions I was visited,
Of the gentle eyes which I might not see,
And the faces that were so far from me!
And blest, oh I blest was the morning beam
Which woke me up from my fever-dream!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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