Related quotes: More callous than a dig...

a Shaft Of Bees

More callous than a dig
More back-breaking than a slam

Amber as a tale, more amber than landlord
Everlasting as an auto-da-fe, more everlasting than raft
Travelled as an air, more travelled than breeze
Dateless as a wing, more dateless than cup

After they have received us at dawn, knowing, striving, like im-petuous shafts.
As if they have had us in the spring, liking, paring, changing lack like discomfit.
While they have had us sometimes, growing, carrying, like an im-mense bee.
Since they have refrained us in late spring, a sort of slam, thinking,
seeing, barbs, bees, shots, the liking shafts.
Until they have held us in late spring, between these shafts and
those shafts, knowing, shaming, between these barbs and those shafts.

As if they have had us in autumn, holding, meeting, like docile barbs.
Until they have fed us in autumn, lapping, complaining, dry as a spot.
Until in early spring they have run us, saying, declining, like a hand.
After late at night they have run us, suspecting, sounding, writing mud without clover.

How they babbled us,
those bold enterprises!
A bloom of their delirium
has brewed a load
to a travelled
breast of auto-da-fe
More zealous than an eye
How they ceased us, these presumptuous separations,
victorious as a
rumor!
The warmth borrowing our nerve, our standing
face

poem by Victor Hugo
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Mourning Of A Fallen Leaf

From the tree to the ground
One fine autumn morning
I was thrown
None realizing my mute agony

Last spring I was on a royal bed
This spring in the mud
From the beautiful green
To the fading brown
My fate has travelled long..

My place has been filled
By a young green sprout
But by the inevitable law of the living kind
The new one this spring
Will join me next autumn.

poem by Surya S Kumar
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The Self Banished

It is not that I love you less
Than when before your feet I lay,
But to prevent the sad increase
Of hopeless love, I keep away.

In vain (alas!) for everything
Which I have known belong to you,
Your form does to my fancy bring,
And makes my old wounds bleed anew.

Who in the spring from the new sun
Already has a fever got,
Too late begins those shafts to shun,
Which Phœbus through his veins has shot.

Too late he would the pain assuage,
And to thick shadows does retire;
About with him he bears the rage,
And in his tainted blood the fire.

But vow'd I have, and never must
Your banish'd servant trouble you;
For if I break, you may distrust
The vow I made to love you, too.

poem by Edmund Waller
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Autumn Song

'WILL you not walk the woods with me?
The shafts of sunlight burn
On many a golden-crested tree
And many a russet fern.
The Summer's robe is dyed anew,
And Autumn's veil of mist
Is gemmed with little pearls of dew
Where first we met and kissed.'

'I will not walk the woodlands brown
Where ghosts and mists are blown,
But I will walk the lonely down
And I will walk alone.

Where Night spreads out her mighty wing
And dead days keep their tryst,
There will I weep the woods of Spring
Where first we met and kissed.'

poem by Edith Nesbit
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New Spring

Spring!

Spring! How beautiful is the
Spring! How wonderful is the
Spring! How majestic is the
Spring! How fantastic is the
Spring! How tantalizing is the
Spring! How glorious is the
Spring! How melodious is the
Spring! How joyful is the
Spring! How breathtaking is the
Spring! How uplifting the
Spring! How happy is the
Spring! How magnificent is the
Spring! How colorful is the
Spring! How tasteful is the
Spring! How memorable was the
Spring! How flavorful is the
Spring! How aromic is the
Spring! How sweet is
Spring! How beautiful is the
Spring!

poem by Mario Saboundjian
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A Road Well Travelled

A road well travelled does not the journey ease
Nor do well placed signposts aid our itineraries
A road well travelled is rough and rutted where
Others have passed by this way overburdened with their cares
A road well-travelled may be full of risks and dangers
You keep yourself unto yourself and never talk to strangers.

This road well travelled has no final end in sight
It can be sunny in the daytime but quite frightening at night
This road well travelled can sometimes just disappear
And you stop not knowing where to go shivering with fear
This road well travelled sometimes returns you to its start
And leaves you walking round in circles with a sad and heavy heart.

My road well travelled has many toll gates on the way
Each time I ask directions there’s a need to always pay
My road well travelled is a lonely road at times
It is a real road that I know it’s not just a state of mind
My road well travelled is not just my road you see
It’s a road that many others take and it’s called anxiety.

poem by David Keig
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An Early Day in May

May soothed
– sensual breeze caressing.

Snug, she cooed in floral chroma;
Gave artistic license – dressing up
Pubescent fields, teenage woods,
Jaded lanes; embellishing
Craggy watersides.

Warmth was kind – sun tempered,
Lifting life; erecting bluebell swathes
For good measure: late-spring treasure.

At hill’s base
A mirrored lake, brooding,
Bathed in halcyon haze –
Yet hectic life scurried,
Spurred on by procreational drive,
To see it all survived another year.

Back home, garden tulips flared,
Thrust aloft on rigid stems, and
Under day-time brilliance,
Open goblets, clustered,
Sought out heavenly guidance –
Lauding hallowed Tulipa gods.

May is Nature’s intermission –
Bridging April’s go-ahead
With hothead June.

s pring spring spring spring spring spring
spring spring spring spring spring spring
spring spring spring spring spring spring
spring spring spring spring spring spring

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Autumn

spring...summer...winter and fall...my spring has yet finished..what a pity..it is not so easy...to bear...to tear the years behind...no matter what you say...what you do...it says its farewell to you....even the mirrors..when you look and search yourself...says...uncle..uncle..to you..it is in vain....that is not a gain....you are losing something..and momesthing....used to it...nothing...nobody has managed it...yhere is the tornado..instead of the gentle breeze...your autumn is coming sooner or late....the last farewells are in minds and memories...we are standing in a row..rope tryin g to tow...when will the rope us tow..nobody know...autumn is fallingin my dreams...which sparrow has eaten..my last hope of living..and flew away.....where are the last tramways of childhood's spring...last tramways of hope...the snow of autumn is falling....that ı cannot..and nobody can cope...

poem by Metin Sahin
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A Country Path in Late Spring

The path of mossy ground nestled
In between maternal hedgerows,
That overgrew atop, dimming down
The brilliance of the day.
Embosomed, a calm-cool vision –
Abstract takes of nature, in
Leaf-spattered green shades;
Stem-speckled brown hues;
Shards of sunlight percolating
Through the random flaws to
Up glittering sprites upon the leaves.

And avian chatter bounced along the burrow,
Smattered by the crosstalk
Of busybody insects;
But outside the green comfort zone,
Other worlds of other sounds of other life
Otherwise gave a hint of
Other dozy goings on.

Hawthorn filled the air,
Filled the nose,
Filled the head –
Pungency had overpowered all –
Gave the late-spring-early-summer haze.

Here and there a break of colour:
Odd bluebells – escapees from nearby woods –
Blue-blushing bell faces glancing down,
Aware of their erectness in the stem;
The flaming wing of red admirals
Broke through a hedge hole to
Break up the calm backdrop,
While flitting blue tits gave
To greater-bodied animation.

Nature’s warm narration –
The undertones of life.

spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Anacreontick II

When Spring came on with fresh Delight,
To cheer the Soul, and charm the Sight,
While easy Breezes, softer Rain,
And warmer Suns salute the Plain;
'Twas then, in yonder Piny Grove,
That Nature went to meet with Love.

Green was her Robe, and green her Wreath,
Where-e'er she trod, 'twas green beneath;
Where-e'er she turn'd, the Pulses beat
With new recruits of Genial Heat;
And in her Train the Birds appear,
To match for all the coming Year.

Rais'd on a Bank, where Daizys grew,
And Vi'lets intermix'd a Blew,
She finds the Boy she went to find;
A thousand Pleasures wait behind,
Aside, a thousand Arrows lye,
But all unfeather'd wait to fly.

When they met, the Dame and Boy,
Dancing Graces, idle Joy,
Wanton Smiles, and airy Play,
Conspir'd to make the Scene be gay;
Love pair'd the Birds through all the Grove,
And Nature bid them sing to Love,
Sitting, hopping, flutt'ring, sing,
And pay their Tribute from the Wing,
To fledge the Shafts that idly lye,
And yet unfeather'd wait to fly.

'Tis thus, when Spring renews the Blood,
They meet in ev'ry trembling Wood,
And thrice they make the Plumes agree,
And ev'ry Dart they mount with three,
And ev'ry Dart can boast a Kind,
Which suits each proper turn of Mind.

From the tow'ring Eagle's Plume
The Gen'rous Hearts accept their Doom;
Shot by the Peacock's painted Eye
The vain and airy Lovers dye:
For careful Dames and frugal Men,
The Shafts are speckled by the Hen.
The Pyes and Parrots deck the Darts,
When Prattling wins the panting Hearts:
When from the Voice the Passions spring,
The warbling Finch affords a Wing:
Together, by the Sparrow stung,
Down fall the wanton and the young:
And fledg'd by Geese the Weapons fly,
When others love they know not why.

All this (as late I chanc'd to rove)
I learn'd in yonder waving Grove.
And see, says Love, (who call'd me near)
How much I deal with Nature here,
How both support a proper Part,
She gives the Feather, I the Dart:
Then cease for Souls averse to sigh,
If Nature cross ye, so do I;
My Weapon there unfeather'd flies,
And shakes and shuffles through the Skies.
But if the mutual Charms I find
By which she links you, Mind to Mind,
They wing my Shafts, I poize the Darts,
And strike from both, through both your Hearts.

poem by Thomas Parnell
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Life Is Lovely All the Year

When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!

Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!

In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.

Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Sonnet LIX: Love's Last Gift

Love to his singer held a glistening leaf,
And said: “The rose-tree and the apple-tree
Have fruits to vaunt or flowers to lure the bee;
And golden shafts are in the feathered sheaf
Of the great harvest-marshal, the year's chief,
Victorious Summer; aye, and 'neath warm sea
Strange secret grasses lurk inviolably
Between the filtering channels of sunk reef.
“All are my blooms; and all sweet blooms of love
To thee I gave while Spring and Summer sang;
But Autumn stops to listen, with some pang
From those worse things the wind is moaning of.
Only this laurel dreads no winter days:
Take my last gift; thy heart hath sung my praise.”

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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You ask Me

You ask me:
Why am I not writing?
I say: it’s winter.
I’m hibernating!

You ask me:
Why am I not writing?
I say: it’s summer.
I’m sunbathing!

You ask me:
How about
Spring and autumn?

I say:
In spring, I’m contemplating.
In autumn, I’m introspecting.

The fact is, my dear
I’ve written to you so much
That I don’t want to write
Any more…
This is the phase of life,
Where I enjoy thinking…
More than communicating.

Please let me take a break.

poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Autumn Is Brown!

The colour of Autumn is brown
Like the leaves of Spring are crown!
The colour of Winter is white
Like the Summer heat at its height!

Falling dry leaves are symbol of Autumn
After flowers of Spring with bees hum!
Autumn is the symbol of wisdom ever
After rich growth of fruits in Spring sure!

Rain in Autumn is joyful as in heaven
Just as for the birds trees are haven!
Autumn ever denotes mental maturity
Just as fully grown flowers of beauty!

poem by Ramesh T A
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Spring Did Come.

Spring did come,
On butterfly's wings.
On a flitting bird,
And the song it sings.

Spring did come,
When the flowers bloomed,
When it filled the air
With a sweet purfume.

Spring did come,
On the morning's breeze.
Spring did come,
On budding leaves.

Spring did come,
On blades of dew.
Spring did come,
In skies of blue.

Spring did come,
With a joyous ring.

Spring did come...

Welcome, Spring!

poem by Macy Dvirnak
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The Red Rose

The red rose wept for long
Upon the autumn sad song

And then recovered from grief
And shattered the wet green leaf

The spring is there but the tears
Of lover, the autumn how bears

The little heart in search of charm
Is beating and beating and warm

The red rose is watching the gloom
Of the lover’s heart being in boom

His beloved had nodded him back
The rose from him she does not take

The nature feeling warmth is now cold
The autumn will take him in firm hold

The beauty will go leaving the scars
Of drowning moon and falling stars

The thorns will curse the rose to retreat
The red rose weeps on nature’s treat

It doesn’t matter what have gone
The rose will wait for the dawn

The spring no more helps the friend
His beauty will shatter like wall of sand

His days of life will end very soon
At morn, at noon or after noon

The rose sees autumn in the spring
A wave of sorrow his end will bring

The red rose weeps and weeps more
Upon these tears his eyes will sore

No spring can stop, no joy can amaze
With each passing moment his death he chase

So times are when autumn comes in spring
No joy can touch you no nerve can sing

February 16,2005

poem by Abdul Sattar
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Spring Fever

(words & music by giant - baum - kaye)
A little bird, he told me so
He said come on, get on the go
Open your eyes the sky is full of butterflies
The blossoms on the trees stir up the honey bees
Spring makes my fever right
Spring fever, spring is here at last
Spring fever, my hearts beating fast
Get up, get out spring is everywhere
Well if you feel the wanderlust
Just grab a car or hop a bus
In every town theres excitement to be found
So much is happening
Dont miss the joy of spring
The worlds in love just look around
Spring fever comes to everyone
Spring fever, its time for fun
Get up, get out spring is everywhere
Spring fever, its spring fever time
Spring fever, watch that fever climb
Get up, get out spring is everywhere
Spring is everywhere

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The First Spring Day

I wonder if the sap is stirring yet,
If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate,
If frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sun
And crocus fires are kindling one by one:
Sing, robin, sing;
I still am sore in doubt concerning Spring.

I wonder if the springtide of this year
Will bring another Spring both lost and dear;
If heart and spirit will find out their Spring,
Or if the world alone will bud and sing:
Sing, hope, to me;
Sweet notes, my hope, soft notes for memory.

The sap will surely quicken soon or late,
The tardiest bird will twitter to a mate;
So Spring must dawn again with warmth and bloom,
Or in this world, or in the world to come:
Sing, voice of Spring,
Till I too blossom and rejoice and sing.

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Nature's Season's

Season's come and season's go,
There are four in each year,
Of our time keeping.
Spring,
Summer,
Autumn,
Winter,
In other parts of the world,
Their season's are called something else,

Each Season is,
Of different type,
Yet,
Two and Two,
To begin and become,
Spring shows the begining,
Of growth and new season,
So for plants,
Vegetation,
Spring Chickens,
Spring Lambs,
The Calflings,
The Fouls,
All come in the Spring,
And flourish in the Summer,

Summer shows bloom,
From the plants to the Fouls,
And all are seen in full bloom,
Even the birds and the bees,
Sing the songs,
Of spring and summer,
With the Sun's rays,
That shows nature,
In full bloom,

By the time,
All is in full bloom,
And what shows and blooms,
Blossoms all summer,
And just when we are relaxed,
And see no clouds in the sky,
The seson changes,
Beginning with,
The fall,

Autumn's,
Season,
Commences to begin,
Where,
All in bloom,
Falls away and decays,
While the rest,
Fly away,
And,
Migrate,
Or,
Hibernate,

And just when,
We have seen it all disappear,
The frost and snow,
Covers all over,
And chills the air,
Where the chilling effect,
Kills off all decay,
And the blue ice time period,
Takes over for a time,
Chilling,
Freeezing,
Keeping everything beneath the earth,
As winter sets itself right in,

And far beneath the froasted earth,
Is all in nature,
Rekindling itself,
To regrowth itself,
And then spring growth,
Again,
Next season,
That starts the circle of life,
2 x 2 = 4,
The four seasons,
Of,
Our circle of life,

Spring,
Summer,
Autumn,
Winter,
The four seasons,
Of ours,
That is 2 x 2,
Spring and Summer,
Then,
Autumn and Winter,
That makes it known,
As 4 seasons,
To us all.

poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Autumn Falling Leaves

When all have been and gone away,
Like leaves from green to amber orange,
Falling down and to decay,
Is the time for all in nature to fall,
And the leaves on the trees show it all,
Autumn and its falls of fall,

Where all the branches have dropped their leaves,
All have gone except the evergreens,
Showing signs to us that live among,
Four seasons weather,
Where Autumn is,

Just like in life,
When full circle of life is known,
A start in spring where buds appear,
Then in summer full bloom trees will be,
Hence, fall shows all,
When nature falls,
Begining another season,
Winter and chill tempetures,

Where nature decays,
And leaves do fall,
To generate again,
Renewing its life,
Come spring again,

Untill then,
Autumn sheads its leaves of blossom and blooms,
And soon again autumn begins,
From new to old,
And then old to new,
Buds in spring and leaves of green,

Showing birth from what did decayed,
And brought forth from,
What was bear on the trees,
From where beneath was where once,
Those Autumn falling leaves.