They Lived Enamoured of the Lovely Moon
They lived enamoured of the lovely moon,
The dawn and twilight on their gentle lake.
Then Passion marvellously born did shake
Their breast and drave them into the mid-noon.
Their lives did shrink to one desire, and soon
They rose fire-eyed to follow in the wake
Of one eternal thought,--when sudden brake
Their hearts. They died, in miserable swoon.
Of all their agony not a sound was heard.
The glory of the Earth is more than they.
She asks her lovely image of the day:
A flower grows, a million boughs are green,
And over moving ocean-waves the bird
Chases his shadow and is no more seen.
poem by Trumbull Stickney
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Related quotes
’Tis So Lovely To …
’Tis so lovely to be born a Christian;
’Tis so lovely to be a Roman Catholic;
’Tis so lovely to follow Jesus Christ;
’Tis so lovely to know the one, living God;
’Tis so lovely to read the Holy Bible;
’Tis so lovely to have Christian parents
’Tis so lovely to walk in the shadow of the Holy cross;
’Tis so lovely to spread the Gospel;
’Tis so lovely to obey God’s Ten Commandments;
’Tis so lovely to abide by the precepts of the holy Catholic Church;
’Tis so lovely to receive the Holy Sacraments;
’Tis so lovely to confess sins and gain forgiveness from God;
’Tis so lovely to receive the Holy Eucharist;
’Tis so lovely to be an example of Christ unto others;
’Tis so lovely to be a “Fisher of Souls”;
’Tis so lovely to do miracles like Christ;
’Tis so lovely to heal the sick by prayers;
’Tis so lovely to console the sick and the dying;
’Tis so lovely to live a life like that of Christ;
’Tis so lovely to keep the soul pure;
’Tis so lovely to be filled by the Holy Spirit;
’Tis so lovely to take the road to heaven;
’Tis so lovely to die a holy Christian death;
’Tis so lovely to resurrect after death;
’Tis so lovely to be spared of eternal damnation;
’Tis so lovely to have eternal life;
’Tis so lovely to live in commune with God
Forever in Heaven thereafter!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-16-2006
poem by John Celes
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The Rose of Midnight
The moon is now an opening flower,
The sky a cliff of blue.
The moon is now a silver rose;
Her pollen is the dew.
Her pollen is the mist that swings
Across her face of dreams:
Her pollen is the April rain,
Filling the April streams.
Her pollen is eternal life,
Endless ambrosial foam.
It feeds the swarming stars and fills
Their hearts with honeycomb.
The earth is but a passion-flower
With blood upon his crown.
And what shall fill his failing veins
And lift his head, bowed down?
This cup of peace, this silver rose
Bending with fairy breath
Shall lift that passion-flower, the earth
A million times from Death!
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Lovely One
Lovely one,
Just as on the cool stone
Of the spring, the water
Opens a wide flash of foam,
So is the smile of your face,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
With delicate hands and slender feet
Like a silver pony,
Walking, flower of the world,
Thus I see you,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
With a nest of copper entangled
On your head, a nest
The coloUr of dark honey
Where my heart burns and rests,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
Your eyes are too big for your face,
Your eyes are too big for the earth.
There are countries, there are rivers,
In your eyes,
My country is your eyes,
I walk through them,
They light the world
Through which I walk,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
Your breasts are like two loaves made
Of grainy earth and golden moon,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
Your waist,
My arm shaped it like a river when
It flowed a thousand years through your sweet body,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
There is nothing like your hips,
Perhaps earth has
In some hidden place
The curve and the fragrance of your body,
Perhaps in some place,
Lovely one.
Lovely one, my lovely one,
Your voice, your skin, your nails,
Lovely one, my lovely one,
Your being, your light, your shadow,
Lovely one,
All that is mine, lovely one,
All that is mine, my dear,
When you walk or rest,
When you sing or sleep,
When you suffer or dream,
Always,
When you are near or far,
Always,
You are mine, my lovely one,
Always.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Fantasy...
A tree and its shadow
And a dreamy meadow
Waiting for someone....
The Shadow asks ' how is she doing? '
Tree whispers ' shhh! sleeping'
'oops! sorry' says shadow and waits
waiting...they are for the flower that sleeps
on a thin green brunch of the tree
The tree, now drowsy, as sun
Readies itself to set, for the night
and the little shadow? it grows unwatched
With the dimming light
The Tree sleeps,
The meadow sleeps
Huts sleep
and the man inside it
Is in slumber too
Tiny little shadow grows into night
Embraces life with darkness punctured with lights
Dawn Awakes
Sun rays come running back to the tree
Tree asks 'my shadow? where IS he? '
the Tallest palm tree, sky abreast
says 'i think I saw him running northwest! '
The Shadow creeps in and stands upon a pebble
Says ' i wana see...i wana see! ' with boyish charm
Then The flower finally falls
Into shadow's lap
'shh! she's still taking a nap! '
says tree to his friend
Wind blows, it wants to play with her
The sleeping beauty, The flower
'Look! Look! ...she's smiling!
She's happy! she must be dreaming! '
The shadow hushes, excited!
A girl comes out of the hut...
Takes the flower, the sweet, from Shadows lap
What will you do with her, little girl?
She's taking a nap! '
'I'll play with it', the little girl says
The Shadow starts crying
The tree wishpers...
' dont cry dear...let it be...
Tommorrow morning You'll see
Our flower is back with us
On your lap she's lying!
Night comes again
Tree and its shadow sleeps
with Dreamy smiles on their lips
Dawn brings light to the tree and shadow
They wake up and see
Adorned with Dew drops like some rare gems
Their Sweet little flower is back with them!
poem by Saurabh Som
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Flowers Of My Heart
Enter my flowers
love becomes an open
door
into my hearts way
color my love red
the passion of this
blossom
brings fire to my
life
pink and delicate
this rose belongs to
my heart
she overwhelms me
in the purity of
this lovely rose bud
white
I always find delight
I melt in the nectar
of this beautiful
flower
dainty and yellow.
I love.!
the essence of my
coral rose
a blend of many
colors
so endearing
a late bloomer
yet so lovely
adding to my bouquet
once again I come
to the flowers of my
heart
lost in their beauty.
poem by Heather Burns
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The Voice
One feather is a bird,
I claim; one tree, a wood;
In her low voice I heard
More than a mortal should;
And so I stood apart,
Hidden in my own heart.
And yet I roamed out where
Those notes went, like the bird,
Whose thin song hung in air,
Diminished, yet still heard:
I lived with open sound,
Aloft, and on the ground.
That ghost was my own choice,
The shy cerulean bird;
It sang with her true voice,
And it was I who heard
A slight voice reply;
I heard; and only I.
Desire exults the ear:
Bird, girl, and ghostly tree,
The earth, the solid air--
Their slow song sang in me;
The long noon pulsed away,
Like any summer day.
poem by Theodore Roethke
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Don't Seek the Truth, Just Giveup untruth!
Why you go round and round,
May it be around earth,
Or may be around universe,
You will not find the Truth,
It is neither in earth or in sky,
It is neither in ocean,
nor in mountains,
wherever you go Truth follows you,
Yet you are unable to follow Truth!
If you see your shadow,
You are walking away from light,
But others only can see your shadow, when you are towards light!
Truth can not be found anywhere,
Learn from the still lake,
When water is pure and clear,
When ripples are waves subside,
One can see both reflection of world,
And bottom of the lake in which your own face glow!
Only its image can be found in mirror of your heart,
Only path to the Pathless land is to cleanse the mirror,
cleanse the vision,
clear all senses, Giveup untruth!
Mind and action,
Make them free of memories and expectations,
Leave behind corpse of past burnt,
Not look at the future,
Then only you see the image of Truth,
And find truth shine everywhere!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Dancing to the Harp of Passion
Dancing to the Harp of Passion
Let the fire silently burn within,
our hearts as we dance tonight.
Let us dance from the peak of dawn,
to beginning of twilight.
Soak in this solitude-just you and me,
as we dance to the Harp of Passion.
A silent sound to others but us:
a song in melodic fashion.
Cast our shadows on the wall,
for they shall never age.
Remember this moment for all your life,
until our final days.
Dance through the fall of night,
and the rise of the moon.
The stars as our audience,
as well as the lune.
Dance is the art of movement.
Through it, love moves.
With you as we dance,
the feeling soothes...
Keep pace with the Harp of Passion,
with you only, do I feel this.
Dancing to the Harp of Passion,
an eternal state of bliss
poem by Wesley Mincin
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Twilight
I look into his eyes, there are closed
But I see something.
A teacher told me why, I laugh
When old men cry.
My body grows and grows,
It fightens me you know.
The old man tried to walk me home.
I thought he should have known.
Twilight,
Twilight, lost my way.
Twilight, night and day.
Twilight, cant find my way.
(in the shadow boy meets man
In the shadow boy meets man).
Im running in the rain.
Im caught in a late night play.
Its all and everything.
Im soaking through the skin.
Twilight, darkened day.
Twilight, lost my way.
Twilight, cant find my way.
(in the shadow boy meets man
In the shadow boy meets man).
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You And Me
Under the open sky and mango tree
It is you and me, you and me, you and me
No one comes near to observe and take a look
No fear from anyone to come all of sudden and book
I am fully aware that sky and earth never meet
In unknown place we try to figure out and greet
All warmth from within to melt so soon
Nothing deters us not even burning noon
Since you are so far and can’t come over
Provide your love as simple cover
I shall continue to live with memory
Hope to meet you soon in no hurry
I have lived long time under constant fear
How much agony and pain I bear
Eyes become wet with precious tears
Most lovely words I want to hear
Come and share all happy moments
Lovely tree branches shake with movements
Branches lower with fruits and garland
It is you and me, you and me you me on land
Who will know me better when you are gone?
Not heard enough words and you are undone
Now I have to wait for another precious day
You will come with flowers from distant way
I want to express in words exactly what I wish
Why I suffer the free air and fate of that dying fish
What you have done to me in these long years?
Have I to suffer and last for love words to hear?
I don’t know what made me to think over again and again
Fully aware of surroundings but unconsciously remain
Does such stage may last for unknown period?
Will I be in position to over come and avoid?
I have no desire to live with uncertainty
It has to have some form of continuity
I know you may be won over one day
God only know how and which way?
You may flow with me as free wind
It may be union of its own kind
Just speed up and shake complete thing
Try to reach me with powerful wings
You will have to wait for cool breeze to sat in
Situation from no win to almost win
Who says love after long wait can’t succeed
If desire is left alone and set to be freed
I have won over despite heavy odds
It has come as surprise with your approval or nods
What remains to be seen is its complete success
Heart to heart and mind to mind with full access
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Lovely
In my heart, in my heart
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
I've got some lovely in my head, in my head
Where the lions, wear the right eye,
Where the jems (?) roar, there be lovely
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
In my bed, in my bed
Where the ocean wears the shore down
Where's the on switch?
There be lovely laying waiting naked for you
(chorus)
We can play every day
We can play at being lovers
We can play every day
We can play on my brown guitar
(repeat chorus)
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
In my yard, in my yard
There be inchworm, there be footlong
There be yardstick stir some lovely
Laying waiting naked for you
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
In my field, in my field
There be green grass, there be big sky
There be blue birds come and nest there
(chorus x 2)
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
In my heart, in my heart for you
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Lovely
In my heart, in my heart
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
I've got some lovely in my head, in my head
Where the lions, wear the right eye,
Where the jems (?) roar, there be lovely
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
In my bed, in my bed
Where the ocean wears the shore down
Where's the on switch?
There be lovely laying waiting naked for you
(chorus)
We can play every day
We can play at being lovers
We can play every day
We can play on my brown guitar
(repeat chorus)
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
In my yard, in my yard
There be inchworm, there be footlong
There be yardstick stir some lovely
Laying waiting naked for you
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
In my field, in my field
There be green grass, there be big sky
There be blue birds come and nest there
(chorus x 2)
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
In my heart, in my heart for you
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Recollections of Our Native Valley
Know ye not that lovely river?
Know ye not that smiling river?
Whose gentle flood,
By cliff and wood,
With wildering sound goes winding ever.
Oh! often yet with feeling strong,
On that dear stream my mem'ry ponders,
And still I prize its murm'ring song,
For by my childhood's home it wanders.
Know ye not that lovely river?
Know ye not that smiling river?
Whose gentle flood,
By cliff and wood,
There's music in each wind that blows
Within our native valley breathing;
There's beauty in each flower that grows
Around our native woodlands wreathing.
The memory of our brightest joys
Is dearer than the richest toys,
The present vainly shed around us.
Know ye not that lovely river?
Know ye not that smiling river?
Whose gentle flood,
By cliff and wood,
Oh, sister! when 'mid doubts and fears,
That haunt life's onward journey ever,
I turn to those departed years,
And that beloved and lovely river;
With sinking mind and bosom riven,
And heart with lonely anguish aching,
It needs my long-taught hope in heaven,
To keep that weary heart from breaking.
Know ye not that lovely river?
Know ye not that smiling river?
Whose gentle flood,
By cliff and wood.
poem by Gerald Griffin
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First Love
Ah, well can I the day recall, when first
The conflict fierce of love I felt, and said:
If _this_ be love, how hard it is to bear!
With eyes still fixed intent upon the ground,
I saw but _her_, whose artless innocence,
Triumphant took possession of this heart.
Ah, Love, how badly hast thou governed me!
Why should affection so sincere and pure,
Bring with it such desire, such suffering?
Why not serene, and full, and free from guile
But sorrow-laden, and lamenting sore,
Should joy so great into my heart descend?
O tell me, tender heart, that sufferest so,
Why with that thought such anguish should be blent,
Compared with which, all other thoughts were naught?
That thought, that ever present in the day,
That in the night more vivid still appeared,
When all things round in sweet sleep seemed to rest:
Thou, restless, both with joy and misery
Didst with thy constant throbbings weary so
My breast, as panting in my bed I lay.
And when worn out with grief and weariness,
In sleep my eyes I closed, ah, no relief
It gave, so broken and so feverish!
How brightly from the depths of darkness, then,
The lovely image rose, and my closed eyes,
Beneath their lids, their gaze upon it fed!
O what delicious impulses, diffused,
My weary frame with sweet emotion filled!
What myriad thoughts, unstable and confused,
Were floating in my mind! As through the leaves
Of some old grove, the west wind, wandering,
A long, mysterious murmur leaves behind.
And as I, silent, to their influence yield,
What saidst thou, heart, when she departed, who
Had caused thee all thy throbs, and suffering?
No sooner had I felt within, the heat
Of love's first flame, than with it flew away
The gentle breeze, that fanned it into life.
Sleepless I lay, until the dawn of day;
The steeds, that were to leave me desolate,
Their hoofs were beating at my father's gate.
And I, in mute suspense, poor timid fool,
With eye that vainly would the darkness pierce,
And eager ear intent, lay, listening,
That voice to hear, if, for the last time, I
Might catch the accents from those lovely lips;
The voice alone; all else forever lost!
How many vulgar tones my doubtful ear
Would smite, with deep disgust inspiring me,
With doubt tormented, holding hard my breath!
And when, at last, that voice into my heart
Descended, passing sweet, and when the sound
Of horses and of wheels had died away;
In utter desolation, then, my head
I in my pillow buried, closed my eyes,
And pressed my hand against my heart, and sighed.
Then, listlessly, my trembling knees across
The silent chamber dragging, I exclaimed,
'Nothing on earth can interest me more!'
The bitter recollection cherishing
Within my breast, to every voice my heart,
To every face, insensible remained.
Long I remained in hopeless sorrow drowned;
As when the heavens far and wide their showers
Incessant pour upon the fields around.
Nor had I, Love, thy cruel power known,
A boy of eighteen summers flown, until
That day, when I thy bitter lesson learned;
When I each pleasure held in scorn, nor cared
The shining stars to see, or meadows green,
Or felt the charm of holy morning light;
The love of glory, too, no longer found
An echo in my irresponsive breast,
That, once, the love of beauty with it shared.
My favorite studies I neglected quite;
And those things vain appeared, compared with which,
I used to think all other pleasures vain.
Ah! how could I have changed so utterly?
How could one passion all the rest destroy?
Indeed, what helpless mortals are we all!
My heart my only comfort was, and with
That heart, in conference perpetual,
A constant watch upon my grief to keep.
My eye still sought the ground, or in itself
Absorbed, shrank from encountering the glance
Of lovely or unlovely countenance;
The stainless image fearing to disturb,
So faithfully reflected in my breast;
As winds disturb the mirror of the lake.
And that regret, that I could not enjoy
Such happiness, which weighs upon the mind,
And turns to poison pleasure that has passed,
Did still its thorn within my bosom lodge,
As I the past recalled; but shame, indeed,
Left not its cruel sting within this heart.
To heaven, to you, ye gentle souls, I swear,
No base desire intruded on my thought;
But with a pure and sacred flame I burned.
That flame still lives, and that affection pure;
Still in my thought that lovely image breathes,
From which, save heavenly, I no other joy,
Have ever known; my only comfort, now!
poem by Count Giacomo Leopardi
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The Rose...
some days i gifted you a rose...
while i did not get, what it means...
and don`t know why...
but some thing inside my heart...
told me to do that, ,
and give it to you...
oh...
o my lovely rose, and my lovely passion...
o my dreamy rose, , ,
did not know some days, how lovely your meaning is...
while you are from my longing...
and from inside....
how mistaken i was in my expression..
when i not gifted you all a roses in the world..
you are my life's` rose..
as i gifted you the rose..
i gifted you to the rose...
and wish that rose gifted to me again..
my rose...
poem by Hazem Al Jaber
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A Portrait
LIKE the sway of the silver birch in the breeze of dawn
Is her dainty way;
Like the gray of a twilight sky or a starlit lawn
Are her eyes of gray;
Like the clouds in their moving white
Is her breast's soft stir;
And white as the moon and bright
Is the soul of her.
Like murmur of woods in spring ere the leaves be green,
Like the voice of a bird
That sings by a stream that sings through the night unseen,
So her voice is heard.
And the secret her eyes withhold
In my soul abides,
For white as the moon and cold
Is the heart she hides.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Hearts On Fire
We saw the writings on the wall
When heathens ruled above us all
Tormented, we still heard the call
You come to bring us down
Wield the scepter, steal the crown
Time on the throne is running out
Cause seasons change but we are still the same
Event though the cold winds blow were burning like a flame
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Burning for the steel
Hearts On Fire
For years shunned by society
Outcasts, condemned for our beliefs
Our legions grew in secrecy
And now, the time is here
I see the Templars everywhere
The Freedom Call is drawing near
We hold our rebel banners up with pride
The colours crimson and the Hammer is the sign
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Burning for the steel
Solo: Stefan
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Brown Guitar
In my heart, in my heart
You want some lovely, I got some lovely
In my head, in my head
Where the lions wear the right tie,
Where the gems roar, there be lovely
You want some lovely, I got some lovely
In my bed, in my bed
Where the ocean wears the shore down
Wheres the on switch?
There be lovely laying waiting naked for you
(chorus)
We can play every day
We can play at being lovers
We can play every day
We can play on my brown guitar
(repeat chorus)
You want some lovely, I got some lovely
In my yard, in my yard
There be inchworm, there we football
Take my yardstick, stir some lovely
Laying waiting naked for you
You want some lovely, I got some lovely
In my field, in my field
There be green grass, there be pink skies
There be blue birds come and nest there
(chorus x 2)
You want some lovely, I got some lovely
In my heart, in my heart for you
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Born to blossom
A girl is born to blossom and conceive
And is set to lure every boy with her waves,
For which she is endowed with some features
As every flower blossoms with some fortunes.
May be she is a lotus, well cut in contour,
Or a rose, fair and lovely to encounter,
Or an oleander with flavour in her manner.
Some are born like lily, white and bright,
Or like a wild flower, full of talents,
Or one in a bunch, known for her clan,
And in the case of a diminutive one,
It’s a flower with colourful brackets.
When she is none of the above
Comes to her rescues her youth in glow
As comes to any flower the nectar in flow.
Each one has some features
to serve its race a purpose.
06.08.96
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Flower Grows, One Dies
that rose that grows is surrounded by the suns light, glowing
that rose grows, while my rose dies
my beautiful rose
with the smell of a million roses together
not the store bought roses that just smell like plastic and chemicals
no, the natural smell that i wish i could keep forever
she was my rose, she was the rose that died
and she is the one growing for another one
my flower dies, and the other one grew
not for me, but for you.
poem by Sarah Rabago
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