Ne'er Ask the Hour
Ne'er ask the hour -- what is it to us
How Time deals out his treasures?
The golden moments lent us thus
Are not his coin, but Pleasure's.
If counting them o'er could add to their blisses,
I'd number each glorious second:
But moments of joy are, like Lesbia's kisses,
Too quick and sweet to be reckon'd.
Then fill the cup -- what is it to us
How time his circle measures?
The fairy hours we call up thus
Obey no wand but Pleasure's.
Young Joy ne'er thought of counting hours,
Till Care, one summer's morning,
Set up, among his smiling flowers,
A dial, by way of warning.
But Joy loved better to gaze on the sun,
As long as its light was glowing,
Than to watch with old Care how the shadow stole on,
And how fast that light was going.
So fill the cup -- what is it to us
How time his circle measures?
The fairy hours we call up thus
Obey no wand but Pleasure's.
poem by Thomas Moore
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Related quotes
Early Works - Remember The Moments
Remember the moments
of long, long ago
when we were young
and troubles were few.
Laughing in the rain
with summer showers
bathing in the sun
for hours and hours.
Remember the moments
the highlights of life
of stealing kisses
in the back seats of cars
and the walks at sunset
along a sandy shore
where have they gong
the days of laughter and song.
Capture the moments
as they come to call
capture the beauty
our eyes seeith all.
Remember the times
golden in the grey
remember our love
day after day.
7 July 1981
poem by David Harris
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One Bumper at Parting
One bumper at parting! -- though many
Have circled the board since we met,
The fullest, the saddest of any
Remains to be crown'd by us yet.
The sweetness that pleasure hath in it
Is always so slow to come forth,
That seldom, alas, till the minute
It dies, do we know half its worth.
But come -- may our life's happy measure
Be all of such moments made up;
They're born on the bosom of Pleasure,
Thy die 'midst the tears of the cup.
As onward we journey, how pleasant
To pause and inhabit awhile
Those few sunny spots, like the present,
That 'mid the dull wilderness smile!
But Time, like a pitiless master,
Cries "Onward!" and spurs the gay hours --
Ah, never doth Time travel faster
Than when his way lies among flowers.
But come -- may our life's happy measure
Be all of such moments made up;
They're born on the bosom of Pleasure,
They die 'midst the tears of the cup.
We saw how the sun look'd in sinking,
The waters beneath him how bright;
And now, let our farewell of drinking
Resemble that farewell of light.
You saw how he finish'd by darting
His beam o'er a deep billow's brim --
So, fill up, let's shine at our parting,
In full liquid glory, like him.
And oh! may our life's happy measure
Of moments like this be made up,
'Twas born on the bosom of Pleasure,
It dies 'mid the tears of the cup.
poem by Thomas Moore
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The fairy at the bottom of my Garden
There's a fairy at the bottom of my garden
she flits in and out of my flowers
I can sit on the step here
and watch her
she stays there for hours and hours
Her wings and so golden and flimsy
Her little body a few inches in size
but her heart is her biggest attraction
and that isn't any surprise
For the fairy at the bottom of my garden
spends her day saving the bees
for they keep on taking the pollen
but dropping it each time they sneeze
I bet you didn't know that the buzzers
had allergies from pollen, sad hey?
the sound that you thought was just buzzing
are bee's that are sneezing away
Now this fairy works hard as she
gathers the droplets of sweet
pollen that fall
diving and swooping and gathering up
and rolling it into a ball
She sings an enchanting little melody
that sounds like a gentle wind chime
Oh how I would love to have a fairy
to pick up after me all the time
poem by Janice M Pickett
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Quick! We Have But a Second
Quick! we have but a second,
Fill round the cup while you may;
For time, the churl, hath beckon'd,
And we must away, away!
Grasp the pleasure that's flying,
For oh, not Orpheus' strain
Could keep sweet hours from dying,
Or charm them to life again.
Then, quick! we have but a second,
Fill round the cup while you may!
For Time, the churl hath beckon'd,
And we must away, away.
See the glass, how it flushes,
Like some young Hebe's lip,
And half meets thine, and blushes
That thou shouldst delay to sip.
Shame, oh shame unto thee,
If ever thou see'st that day,
When a cup or lip shall woo thee,
And turn untouch'd away!
Then, quick! we have but a second,
Fill round, fill round while you may,
For Time, the churl, hath beckon'd,
And we must away, away!
poem by Thomas Moore
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I'm Counting On You (feat. Johnny O'Keefe)
I'm counting on you
Ever since we met darling I've been keeping score
Everyday I count your charms
Every day I love you more
It's plain to see why you're the lover I waited for
I'm counting the diferrent ways you melt me
Your smile your voice your touch
I'm counting the little things you tell me
That move me oh sdo much
I'm counting your kisses and caresses
And cause I thrill as I do
For I'm counting on you
I'm counting the hours since I found you
The days and nights divine
I'm counting the dreams I built around you
Because your love is mine
I'm counting on happiness forever
Oh lover always be true
For I'm counting on you
I'm counting on you
I'm counting on you
I'm counting on you
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Is All About You
1 hour unity,
2 hours peace,
3 hours playing,
4 hours sleeping,
5 hours smiling,
6 hours living,
7 hours trusting in your muse!
For this river is mine and yours foeevers;
And, i want to be close to you always.
1 hour smiling,
2 hours learning,
3 hours thinking,
4 hours with your muse,
5 hours teaching,
6 hours working,
But, the 7th hour comes for me to sleep with you;
Because, this love is all about you! !
And, i want to be with you always.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Dream Fairy
A little fairy comes at night,
Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown’
with silver spots upon her wings,
And from the moon she flutters down.
She has a little silver wand,
And when a good child goes to bed
She waves her wand from right to left
And makes a circle round her head,
And then it dreams of pleasant things,
Of fountains filled with fairy fish,
And trees that bear delicious fruit,
And bow their branches at a wish;
Of arbours filled with dainty scents
From lovely flowers that never fade,
Bright ‘flies that flitter in the sun,
And glow-worms shining in the shade;
And talking birds with gifted tongues
For singing songs and telling tales,
And pretty dwarfs to show the way
Through the fairy hills and fairy dales.
poem by Thomas Hood
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The Horologe Of The Fields
Addressed to a Young Lady, on seeing at the House of an
Acquaintance a magnificent French Timepiece.
FOR her who owns this splendid toy,
Where use with elegance unites,
Still may its index point to joy,
And moments wing'd with new delights.
Sweet may resound each silver bell,
And never quick returning chime,
Seem in reproving notes to tell,
Of hours mispent, and murder'd time.
Tho' Fortune, Emily, deny
To us these splendid works of art,
The woods, the lawns, the heaths supply
Lessons from Nature to the heart.
In every copse, and shelter'd dell,
Unveil'd to the observant eye,
Are faithful monitors, who tell
How pass the hours and seasons by.
The green robed children of the Spring
Will mark the periods as they pass,
Mingle with leaves Time's feather'd wing,
And bind with flowers his silent glass.
Mark where transparent waters glide,
Soft flowing o'er their tranquil bed;
There, cradled on the dimpling tide,
Nymphæa rests her lovely head.
But conscious of the earliest beam,
She rises from her humid rest,
And sees reflected in the stream
The virgin whiteness of her breast.
Till the bright daystar to the west
Declines, in Ocean's surge to lave,
Then folded in her modest vest,
She slumbers on the rocking wave.
See Hieracium's various tribe,
Of plumy seed and radiate flowers,
The course of Time their blooms describe
And wake or sleep appointed hours.
Broad o'er its imbricated cup
The Goatsbeard spreads its golden rays,
But shuts its cautious petals up,
Retreating from the noon-tide blaze:
Pale as a pensive cloister'd nun
The Bethlem-star, her face unveils,
When o'er the mountain peers the Sun,
But shades it from the vesper gales.
Among the loose and arid sands
The humble Arenaria creeps;
Slowly the purple star expands,
But soon within its calyx sleeps.
And those small bells so lightly ray'd
With young Aurora's rosy hue,
Are to the noon-tide Sun display'd,
But shut their plaits against the dew.
On upland slopes the shepherds mark
The hour, when as the dial true,
Cichorium to the towering Lark,
Lifts her soft eyes, serenely blue.
And thou 'Wee crimson tipped flower,'
Gatherest thy fringed mantle round
Thy bosom, at the closing hour,
When night drops bathe the turfy ground.
Unlike Silene, who declines
The garish noontide's blazing light;
But when the evening crescent shines
Gives all her sweetness to the night.
Thus in each flower and simple bell,
That in our path untrodden lie,
Are sweet remembrancers who tell
How fast the winged moments fly.
Time will steal on with ceaseless pace,
Yet lose we not the fleeting hours,
Who still their fairy footsteps trace,
As light they dance among the flowers.
poem by Charlotte Smith
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Clocks.
(Emmylou Harris)
Old brown clock ticking on my shelf
Take my mind to someplace else
Little gold clock ticking by my bed
Funny little people dancing 'round my head
Morning brings me things to do
Morning brings me thoughts of you
Gentle sunshine through the curtain lace
Some of which shining on your sweet face
Counting hours making days
Watching time throwing love away
Nothing golden never stays
That's what I heard the poets say Mmm ...
Time is always taking me
Places I don't want to be
But when the morning rise the moon
I know a bird day's coming soon
Counting hours making days
Watching time throwing love away
Nothing golden never stays
That's what I heard the poets say Mmm ...
Morning brings me things to do
Morning brings me thoughts of you
Gentle sunshine through the curtain lace
Some of which shining on your sweet face
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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First Night of the Sacred Circle
First Night of the Sacred Circle
On the first night
of the sacred circle.
The fairy's danced
with glee.
On the first day
of the sacred circle.
My spirit was
set free.
The time for joy
and time for mirth
is here for all
to see.
The darkness of
that long spent night.
Met with the dawns
most scared light.
So swiftly it did flee.
poem by Lynne FincherSpringarden
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Fairy Wings
There's a fairy sitting by the pool making fairy wings. from gossamer
and spider webs and silk worm's silk and things.
In summer-time they have a ball; the elves and gnomes come one and all.
The music's played in trumpet flowers; the ball goes on for hours and hours. As dawn begins to break and people start to rise,
the fairies clear their tables for they are very wise.
They know NOT to leave things around to show folk where they dwell.
For maybe curious folk will want to live with them as well.
But fairy-land is fairy-land and humans can't intrude.
For THEY are known to be polite and some of US are rude.
Don't go in search of fairies. Don't cause these ones to grieve.
Let's not disturb their habitat. Be humble and believe.
We've all seen sparkling cobwebs and flowers of every hue
The sweet, sweet honey nettle and buttercups filled with dew.
Remember there are fairies running all around, but sure enough not
one of them ever has been found.
Let your imagination, the wonder of make-believe, take you to a wonderland grown-ups have had to leave.
So if you should see cobwebs, sparkling dew and fairy rings
Remember that somewhere close by they're making fairy wings.
Rita Alyson Petts
poem by Rita Alyson Petts
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Magic Moments
(h. david / b. bacharach)
Magic moments, when two hearts are caring.
Magic moments, memories weve been sharing.
Ill never forget the moment we kissed,
The night of the hay-ride.
The way that we hugged and tried to keep warm
On taking the sleigh-ride.
Magic moments, when two hearts are caring.
Magic moments, memories weve been sharing.
Time cant erase, the memory of
These magic moments, filled with love.
The telephone call that tied up the line
For hours and hours.
The saturday dance I got up the nerves
To send you some flowqers.
Magic moments, when two hearts are caring.
Magic moments, memories weve been sharing.
Time cant erase, the memory of
These magic moments, filled with love.
The way that we cheered on one of our team
For scoring a touch-down.
The time when the floor fell out of my car,
When I put the clutch down.
The petty arcade, the games that we played,
The fun and the prizes.
The halloween hop, when everyone came
In funny disguises.
Magic moments, filled with love. (la la la la la la)
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ring
I discovered a perfect circle of mushrooms,
some believe this to be a fairy ring.
I decided to watch the ring from some distance
on the off chance I might see something.
After an hour or so of waiting
two butterflies flew around the ring.
A circle of tiny golden stars lit up the area
and I could hear soft voices sing.
Eight fairies appeared sitting on the mushrooms,
it was they who were singing after all.
They began to dance around the ring of mushrooms,
which made them grow incredibly tall.
The silver fairy saw me watching
and flew to the centre of the ring.
She twisted and turned and flew above the circle,
sprinkling fairy dust over everything.
The other fairies turned to face me
and put out their fairy tongues.
They continued to dance in the air regardless,
then faded with the sound of their song.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Joy and Pleasure
Now, joy is born of parents poor,
And pleasure of our richer kind;
Though pleasure's free, she cannot sing
As sweet a song as joy confined.
Pleasure's a Moth, that sleeps by day
And dances by false glare at night;
But Joy's a Butterfly, that loves
To spread its wings in Nature's light.
Joy's like a Bee that gently sucks
Away on blossoms its sweet hour;
But pleasure's like a greedy Wasp,
That plums and cherries would devour.
Joy's like a Lark that lives alone,
Whose ties are very strong, though few;
But Pleasure like a Cuckoo roams,
Makes much acquaintance, no friends true.
Joy from her heart doth sing at home,
With little care if others hear;
But pleasure then is cold and dumb,
And sings and laughs with strangers near.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Fête Champêtre
Under the shadow of the trees
We sat together, you and I;
Our hearts were sweetly ill at ease
Under the shadow of the trees.
In the green circle of the grass
We saw the fairies passing by;
The wake, the fairy wake it was
Upon the circle of green grass.
And softly with their fairy chain
They wove a circle round about,
And round our hearts; ah, not in vain
They bound us with their fairy chain!
With shadowy bonds thy bound us fast,
They wove their circle in and out;
Ah, Céleste, when the fairies passed,
With what strong bonds they bound us fast!
poem by Arthur Symons
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7 Hours
Today's a sunny day
And there's a lot of time to go with it
For me
I want to celebrate and have fun for 7 hours
So ladies and gentlemen
Make the food
Fill up the drinks
It's going to be a fun 7 hours
I'll bring my poems
Maybe my photos
Perhaps even show the ladies a dance I know
7 hours
And the time is ours
Full of nice memories
Full of good times
Full of new friendships
Full of whatever we want to make of it
These 7 hours
These 7 hours of perhaps stress free and
drama free
These 7 hours to be what we want it to be
poem by Justin Gildow
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The Fairy Pendant
Scene: A circle of Druidic stones
First Fairy: Afar from our lawn and our levee,
O sister of sorrowful gaze!
Where the roses in scarlet are heavy
And dream of the end of their days,
You move in another dominion
And hang o'er the historied stone:
Unpruned in your beautiful pinion
Who wander and whisper alone.
All: Come away while the moon's in the woodland,
We'll dance and then feast in a dairy.
Though youngest of all in our good band,
You are wasting away, little fairy.
Second Fairy: Ah! cruel ones, leave me alone now
While I murmur a little and ponder
The history here in the stone now;
Then away and away I will wander,
And measure the minds of the flowers,
And gaze on the meadow-mice wary,
And number their days and their hours--
All: You're wasting away, little fairy.
Second Fairy: O shining ones, lightly with song pass,
Ah! leave me, I pray you and beg.
My mother drew forth from the long grass
A piece of a nightingle's egg,
And cradled me here where are sung,
Of birds even, longings for aery
Wild wisdoms of spirit and tongue.
All: You're wasting away, little fairy.
First Fairy [turning away]: Though the tenderest roses were round you,
The soul of this pitiless place
With pitiless magic has bound you--
Ah! woe for the loss of your face,
And the loss of your laugh with its lightness--
Ah! woe for your wings and your head--
Ah! woe for your eyes and their brightness--
Ah! woe for your slippers of red.
We'll dance and then feast in a dairy.
Though youngest of all in our good band,
She's wasting away, little fairy.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The unplanned romance
The unplanned romance
~
I never planned to feel this way
But this how you have left me
Watching the clock, counting the hours
Until I get to see you again
I wont pretend this will ever be easy
We all know love is a difficult game
Who would have thought
That it would come to this
A perpetual wait, waiting for the day
When my eyes light up seeing you
And I smile like a little child
What a feeling you gave to me
Looking back to before this happened
If I had told myself about this
That I would feel this way
Love is complex and strange
Ever changing rules
I may never understand
Though I am happy to feel this way
Counting the minutes, hours, days
Until I see you again
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Best Time Of The Day
Cool summer nights.
Windows open.
Lamps burning.
Fruit in the bowl.
And your head on my shoulder.
These the happiest moments in the day.
Next to the early morning hours,
of course. And the time
just before lunch.
And the afternoon, and
early evening hours.
But I do love
these summer nights.
Even more, I think,
than those other times.
The work finished for the day.
And no one who can reach us now.
Or ever.
poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
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A Beautiful Fairy And The Fairy Dust Rain
Around this time of the year
The arrival of Spring is near
The arrival of Spring is almost here
And I'll happily be one with the spirits of nature
I'll completely embrace the magic of spring
As well as the wonder of nature
And the many other worldly pleasures
Around this time of the year
I await the fairy dust rain
Surrounded by trees and flowers
And many other things that are green
I await the arrival of the fairy dust rain
And many other sights of nature just waiting to be seen
A beautiful fairy flutters down from the sky
And lands down in front of me
She's almost as tall as me
We greet each other
And our hopes are the same
As we wait for the fairy dust rain
In the meantime
The beautiful fairy shows me her gifts of magic
And shares her knowledge with me as well
After periods of time have gone by
Fairy dust begins to rain down from the sky
The fairy dust rain has finally arrived
And we share the smiles and laughter
You ask me for a dance
And I don't hesitate to pass up this chance
We dance
Surrounded by flowers
Surrounded by trees
Surrounded by the fairy dust rain
After dancing
We look into each other's eyes
And then up to the skies
As the fairy dust rain continues to fall
Our eyes then return to each other
And we share a hug
You flutter your wings a little
Shaking off some of the fairy dust that's covered them
You tell me you're staying with me
At least for the time being right now
Little by little
We're being lightly covered in the fairy dust rain
Beautiful fairy
I must say that these moments we share
They're memorable and precious
You echo your feelings and sentiments to me as well
As the fairy dust rain continues to fill the air
Side by side
We stand together
Loving what's happening
But most importantly
We enjoy the sight of the fairy dust rain
poem by Justin Gildow
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