Pasturale Lullabies - Fragments Of Nocturnal Song From A Child's Abandoned Grave
Lullaby One
Remembered gait of young ponies toward
the spring's sweet water
Remembered laughter of the frail daughter there
beside the fields sweet grasses
The daughter, as the water, passes into silence
Lullaby Two
Distant crows sound the morning field beyond pasture
Dew murmurs names upon passing grasses
still, the woods echo
Below
a stream's gash extends
slowly suspires erasing dimensions
of width and depth
Lullaby Three
Blue the waters at a distance
Blue the tails of otters
Blue the eyelids of sleeping beasts
nested beneath the earth
Lamentation Song
Dear one
Dear one
They've mown the hill
The grass remains
The modern scythe and sickle
felled the frailer blades but stained
their metals green with your name
Now the sun alone shines
burns that hewn spot where I first
learned to love your passing
where I watched your leaving
grow wild and lovely,
untamed beside the stream
learned to hear the quiet there
where now a cycle is begun
A new season of your death
is running rampant again to know
the blades of time and men
poem by Warren Falcon
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Related quotes
Remembered Laughter of the Frail Daughter There Beside the Fields Sweet Grasses - Impressionist Autumnal Portraits In Miniature
.
[Notes jotted while gazing at Impressionists paintings at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, Autumn]
*
Among ginkgoes
cloven leaves fall
whose burnished
berries yellow late
melon sweetness
of Autumn days
Among boxwoods
evergreen for no good phlox
blooded leaves settle upon
golden flax of weeds
seed the chilling ground
receiving soundless
lips of grain enduring ice
and ice again
Amidst the sortilege
coo of pigeons in the
distant spired village.
low of legion cattle turning
toward evening millet
mow of fringing grain chafing
toward winter silos
Blue waters at a distance
blue the tails of otters
blue the eyelids of sleeping beasts
nested beneath the earth
Distant crows sound the
morning field beyond pasture
Dew murmurs names upon
passing grasses
Echoing wood gold where,
below, the stream's gash furthers along
slowly murdering dimensions
of width and depth
Remembered gait of young ponies
toward the spring's sweet water
Remembered laughter of the frail daughter there
beside the fields sweet grasses
The daughter, as the water, passes into silence
Remembered laughter beside the old well of the woods
*
Spittle on the chin
stubble upon the cheek
she met her love beside the creek
Turned in her sleep
the calling heat gathered
the steep bank in the wood
then fell
as water will
forgetting the blood's
first stain on the long discarded sheet
A woman now she fled toward love
and fed there
but famished still
died there
stuck in 'King James',
entangled in lyrical tongues,
Revelation's virgin.
poem by Warren Falcon
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The LoRuhamah Poems - Her Death Discordant
for Judy Asher, killed at age 21
These meditations/laments are set in
Appalachian mountains and towns of
North American Southern states, circa mid1960's
[The name, LoRuhamah, means 'not loved']
Hosea 1: 6 - 'And she conceived again, and bare a daughter.
And God said unto him, Call her name LoRuhamah' for I will
no more have mercy on the house of Israel, but will utterly take
them away.'
Part One
1
O rue rue LaRue among the ginkgoes
cloven leaves all fallen whose burnished berries
yellow late melon sweetness of Autumn days
O rue rue LaRue among the boxwoods
evergreen for no good phlox.
Blooded leaves settle upon golden flax of weeds
seeding the chilling ground receiving soundless
lips of grain enduring ice and ice again
O rue rue LaRue amidst the sortilege
Coo of pigeons in the distant spired village
low of legion cattle turning toward evening millet
mow of fringing grain chafing toward winter silos
O rue rue LaRue
Blue waters at a distance
blue the tails of otters
blue the eyelids of sleeping beasts
nested beneath the earth
Distant crows sound the morning field beyond pasture
Dew murmurs names upon passing grasses
Echoing wood gold where below the stream's gash
furthers along slowly murdering dimensions of
width and depth
Remembered gait of young ponies toward
the spring's sweet water
Remembered laughter of the frail daughter there
beside the fields sweet grasses
The daughter, as the water, passes into silence
Laughter remembered beside the old well of the woods
2
Unearthing the old dwelling
found glass bottles
rusted ancient tins of talcum
utensils grimed which once fed mouths
a comb sadly saving some long
uncaressed and beloved white hair
a rusty chain for what purpose used
then discarded
Overturning stones
reveals a child's gum
machine trinket ring
O the lovely hand of the long grown daughter
remembered in the plastic ring hole full of dirt
caked jewel of childhood, innocent, cool
in this finder's keeping
Rest o daughter
slumber in the dark palm of the grave
We are slave to suffering
but the little ring you lost
or bitterly tossed away
when its small circle's promise
outgrew you
is here
in the sunlight again
in a stranger's hand
standing where the gate allowed
entrance to the once beautiful yard
Brief the rediscovered
for all of us are soon
gone under the hill
The ring dear lost dead thing
once human and frail will endure
beyond our bones.
It's promise is safe
I wish I knew your name, dear one
O rue rue LaRue...
3
Spittle on the chin
stubble upon the cheek
she met her love beside the creek
Turned in her sleep
the calling heat gathered
the steep bank in the wood
then fell
as water will
forgetting the blood's
first stain on the long discarded sheet
A woman now she fled toward love
and fed there but
famished still
died there...
4
...there that little greensward swath of green grass
and leaf and limb and tree in that little crook nook
of vale dark there and sky gimleted on each blade
and leaf hover myriad in air...
Part Two
'Her death discordant...'
'Birds must sing to keep from asphyxiating.' - Mircea Eliade
1
Then died there the rose beside the house of tin.
The track bore no train for years.
Weeds traveled tendriled and
yellow rooted between trestles.
Broken vessels whistled through
shattered teeth of glass.
Only wind and no rusted train passed.
Though the scene bears dislocation,
though the brain remembers station and motion
of steam engine and iron wheel rotation
the places of old gone passing
bear no malice toward stillness.
All around mute remains remind the
occasional passer of former days;
an old snuff tin crumbled in a reverent hand
longs for the woman grasping then,
holds sweet dust beneath her tongue
as the land must hold her now where is
no whisper but sleep beyond sleep.
Weeds to the eye are sad between rails
but listening to their green and yellow belles
the rightness of their swaying displaces all sorrow.
Their distance is a distance one cannot know
but only borrow in imagination by extension
of miles, their reach is ours then, translated
green and longing, their leaves throng the
evening air, in silent clamor fling down seed
to summer's blundering prayer.
2
Discovering a small print of Degas' painting,
'The Singer In Green', on the day of her death,
sending it to her best friend, saying:
This reminds me of her,
her features, the beauty of implied song,
a tenderness, and sadness,
head tilted back in order to lift her voice,
crooked hand above breasts gesturing
in physical song, green light bathing
the mortal scene.
Was this not her
green with life,
woman prime,
taken into the vast green
of the earth during Spring?
She sings still.
In memory we hear the literal voice,
see her gesture, catch her fading laughter.
2
Go out into some silent space
of green world then. Sit. Listen.
Muted voices and motion are greater there
than any little pocket of earth that our
body or grave can hold.
She dies into the world which
is always alive
and Mystery.
So the singer has become the green light
which bathes her, her life signaling toward it,
her death become it which is greater music still.
Be sad, as we will, but know
she is now where the Green is -
in woods,
in the world,
in memory in
hearts and minds
we but borrow it while alive and return
to the Green source with our passing.
3
O rue rue LaRue it's here
this space between the gate and the lovely garden
is here everywhere in the ring in the hand in the dirt
within the hole of the ring in the breath flung in
and out the grave house underneath
the dirt's coolth and dank breath
thank the air and pass the leaves
the hand of the digger becomes the tree
becomes the sign upon which all breathing things
shall hang language surpasses itself breaks
upon its own weight like the empty shell of the beetle
little is the frame we live within this tiny world
the walk upon Vast the space it partakes of making
the wave of the wind ripple in the mind and Mind
turns to the dropp of rain the flaked paint of the
barn side the vague window pane opening upon
the eternal scene of stones breathing becoming bread
the living the dead artifacts
All
4
That green has grown.
Leaves have darkened
deepening shadow and hue of green
and so, imagining, walking through,
has her death.
I walk through that, too,
wonder how she fares,
silent lady of dirt
having lost at last
the hurting care of the world,
and we, green and growing,
curl above her dark place,
sure sometime of our grave
as sure as we are now of hers.
5
Scattering wind over bending blades,
I grieve still her leaving,
feel its weight as I see scattered ones
on benches in the park, asleep,
one wretched man huddling where
a band of young musicians tune
their instruments for song.
Disparate images entwine -
gone man,
gone band,
and her death discordant -
the living die
the dead somehow live
singing in the sometime green.
As green returns
so she will in silent memory,
in waves of wind
which is only wind.
We will change but not as she
so changed to every possibility of song.
6
It appears to be ended
but as grass shows there is
a forming wisdom and the same,
Desire.
The fire in our house of living rages
and we cannot come out of our own accord.
The event of her going is a beckoning
to see the flame leaping so let's creep
toward the Green and be silent
but if we cannot be then let us be as she,
frail and tender, lifting voices up
in the greening shadow
7.
Dear one.
Dear one.
They've mown the hill.
The grass remains.
Modern scythe and sickle
felled the frailer blades but
stained their metals
green with your name.
The sun shines,
burns that hewn spot where I first
learned to love your passing,
where I watched your leaving
grow wild and lovely,
untamed beside the street,
learned to hear the quiet there
where now a cycle is begun.
A new season of your death
is running rampant again to know
the blades of time and men.
8
Among oaks the fallen do not speak.
The dirt upon which they lay is hard.
Hard earth.
Cold earth.
Need us here
spoken for nothing.
We scratch our mouths
across the scar of land,
wait in the black sun,
pray to break apart.
A bird with injured wing
sits among the yellow leaves.
It's wild hurt flays the sky.
poem by Warren Falcon
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Lullaby, Oh, Lullaby!
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Flowers are closed and lambs are sleeping;
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Stars are up, the moon is peeping;
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
While the birds are silence keeping,
(Lullaby, oh, lullaby!)
Sleep, my baby, fall a-sleeping,
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Pagham Harbour Spring
The blur of sky and sea
this white grey morning
before the day burns
moves into blue
the sweet butter scent of gorse
the sweet scent of you
dear daughter ghost in my head
dear daughter
the mudflats and sailings shine
as the children run by
along marsh edge and the high dyke bank
egret and oystercatcher dunlin and sandpiper
In the distance a train passes
where a short neat man
pushes a refreshment trolley
his clean white shirt immaculately ironed
his black waistcoat just right
the quiet dignity of him
as he passes through the hours
You’d know this the particulars
were you here
held in the wide sky arc
the children running on the dyke bank
absorbed in this world
poem by Lee Harwood
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Lullaby Lullaby My Lovely One
(traditional german lullaby)
Lullaby, lullaby, my lovely one
Close your eyes and sweetly dream
Lullaby, lullaby, my lovely one
Sleep in moonlights silvery dreams
Up above so slowly sailing by
The moon roams across the sky
Lullaby, lullaby, my lovely one
Close your eyes and sweetly dream
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The atmosphere of nature
The field is green
The sky is blue
The sun is shining,
I feel so new
It’s the atmosphere of nature
When the sky is grey
Thundering and lightning
Predators catch there prey
Except some that got away
It’s the atmosphere of nature
Its light and its morning
I can hear the birds singing
And the children’s laughter
Swaying away like a lullaby
It’s the atmosphere of nature
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
Nature is too
It’s the atmosphere of nature…
poem by Maryam Kazmi
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Atmosphere of nature
The field is green
The sky is blue
The sun is shining,
I feel so new
It’s the atmosphere of nature
When the sky is grey
Thundering and lightning
Predators catch there prey
Except some that got away
It’s the atmosphere of nature
Its light and its morning
I can hear the birds singing
And the children’s laughter
Swaying away like a lullaby
It’s the atmosphere of nature
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
Nature is too
It’s the atmosphere of nature…
poem by Maryam Kazmi
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I Shall Return
I shall return again; I shall return
To laugh and love and watch with wonder-eyes
At golden noon the forest fires burn,
Wafting their blue-black smoke to sapphire skies.
I shall return to loiter by the streams
That bathe the brown blades of the bending grasses,
And realize once more my thousand dreams
Of waters rushing down the mountain passes.
I shall return to hear the fiddle and fife
Of village dances, dear delicious tunes
That stir the hidden depths of native life,
Stray melodies of dim remembered runes.
I shall return, I shall return again,
To ease my mind of long, long years of pain.
poem by Claude McKay
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Flamingos Fly
Go for a ride
In the still of the night
And morning brings forth
All this wonderful delight
Couldnt have made it more plain
When I heard that soft refrain
And I heard you gently sigh
Wanna take you where flamingos fly, flamingos fly
Way over yonder in the clear blue sky
Thats where flamingos fly
Lie in the dark
With the sound of the nightingale
Listen for a lark
I will tell you a tale
Breeze is blowin, blowin outside
Wanna take that moonlight ride
When I hear you gently sigh
Wanna take you where flamingos fly, flamingos fly
Way over yonder in the clear blue sky
Thats where flamingos fly
Well were here and were waiting
For that morning light to shine
And Im looking at you looking at me looking right back at you
And Im anticipating
Sounds along the way
Looking at you looking at me looking right back at you, hey
Ill follow the road
That will take me, take me right back home
And carry that load
Where the deer and the provincial angels roam
Happiness touches, touches me now
I know where it came from and how
When I hear you gently sigh
Wanna take you where flamingos fly, flamingos fly
Way over yonder in the clear blue sky
Thats where flamingos fly, flamingos fly
Way over the rooftops of the houses
I heard it one time, I heard it one time in a lullaby
I heard it one time, I heard it one time in a lullaby
Somewhere, somewhere, somewhere way over the rooftops of the houses
Heard it one time in a lullaby
Heard it one time, heard it one time in a lullaby
(fade)
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scythe Song
MOWERS, weary and brown, and blithe,
What is the word methinks ye know,
Endless over-word that the Scythe
Sings to the blades of the grass below?
Scythes that swing in the grass and clover,
Something, still, they say as they pass;
What is the word that, over and over,
Sings the Scythe to the flowers and grass?
Hush, ah hush, the Scythes are saying,
Hush, and heed not, and fall asleep;
Hush, they say to the grasses swaying;
Hush, they sing to the clover deep!
Hush—’t is the lullaby Time is singing—
Hush, and heed not, for all things pass;
Hush, ah hush! and the Scythes are swinging
Over the clover, over the grass!
poem by Andrew Lang
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A Lover's Lullaby
SING lullaby, as women do,
Wherewith they bring their babes to rest;
And lullaby can I sing too,
As womanly as can the best.
With lullaby they still the child;
And if I be not much beguiled,
Full many a wanton babe have I,
Which must be still'd with lullaby.
First lullaby my youthful years,
It is now time to go to bed:
For crooked age and hoary hairs
Have won the haven within my head.
With lullaby, then, youth be still;
With lullaby content thy will;
Since courage quails and comes behind,
Go sleep, and so beguile thy mind!
Next lullaby my gazing eyes,
Which wonted were to glance apace;
For every glass may now suffice
To show the furrows in thy face.
With lullaby then wink awhile;
With lullaby your looks beguile;
Let no fair face, nor beauty bright,
Entice you eft with vain delight.
And lullaby my wanton will;
Let reason's rule now reign thy thought;
Since all too late I find by skill
How dear I have thy fancies bought;
With lullaby now take thine ease,
With lullaby thy doubts appease;
For trust to this, if thou be still,
My body shall obey thy will.
Thus lullaby my youth, mine eyes,
My will, my ware, and all that was:
I can no more delays devise;
But welcome pain, let pleasure pass.
With lullaby now take your leave;
With lullaby your dreams deceive;
And when you rise with waking eye,
Remember then this lullaby.
poem by George Gascoigne
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Gascoigne's Lullaby
1 Sing lullaby, as women do,
2 Wherewith they bring their babes to rest;
3 And lullaby can I sing to,
4 As womanly as can the best.
5 With lullaby they still the child,
6 And if I be not much beguil'd,
7 Full many wanton babes have I,
8 Which must be still'd with lullaby.
9 First, lullaby my youthful years,
10 It is now time to go to bed;
11 For crooked age and hoary hairs
12 Have won the haven within my head.
13 With lullaby, then, youth be still,
14 With lullaby, content thy will,
15 Since courage quails and comes behind,
16 Go sleep, and so beguile thy mind.
17 Next, lullaby my gazing eyes,
18 Which wonted were to glance apace;
19 For every glass may now suffice
20 To show the furrows in my face.
21 With lullaby, then, wink awhile,
22 With lullaby, your looks beguile,
23 Let no fair face nor beauty bright
24 Entice you eft with vain delight.
25 And lullaby my wanton will,
26 Let reason's rule now reign thy thought,
27 Since all too late I find by skill
28 How dear I have thy fancies bought.
29 With lullaby, now take thine ease,
30 With lullaby, thy doubts appease,
31 For trust to this, if thou be still,
32 My body shall obey thy will.
33 Eke, lullaby my loving boy,
34 My little Robin, take thy rest;
35 Since age is cold and nothing coy,
36 Keep close thy coin, for so is best.
37 With lullaby, be thou content,
38 With lullaby, thy lusts relent,
39 Let others pay which have mo pence,
40 Thou art too poor for such expense.
41 Thus lullaby, my youth, mine eyes,
42 My will, my ware, and all that was!
43 I can no mo delays devise,
44 But welcome pain, let pleasure pass.
45 With lullaby, now take your leave,
46 With lullaby, your dreams deceive,
47 And when you rise with waking eye,
48 Remember Gascoigne's lullaby.
poem by George Gascoigne
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Upon My Lap My Sovereign Sits
Upon my lap my sovereign sits
And sucks upon my breast;
Meantime his love maintains my life
And gives my sense her rest.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing lullaby, mine only joy!
When thou hast taken thy repast,
Repose, my babe, on me;
So may thy mother and thy nurse
Thy cradle also be.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing lullaby, mine only joy!
I grieve that duty doth not work
All that my wishing would,
Because I would not be to thee
But in the best I should.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing lullaby, mine only joy!
Yet as I am, and as I may,
I must and will be thine,
Though all too little for thyself
Vouchsafing to be mine.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing lullaby, mine only joy!
poem by Martin Peerson
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Lullaby
Should just hug you goodbye
But I just cant walk away from paradise
So I guess Ill sing you that sweet lullaby
And we can revisit us one more time
Yes, Ill come home with you tonight
Hey boy, whats going on
Thanks, Im doing okay
Dont believe rumours- hey
Hows your family
Please say hello for me
Guess weve both grown up a bit
But I have to admit
It really still feels good
Here by your side
Sitting right next to you
Just like I used to do
You know we cant deny
No one else in our lives
Holds a candle to you and i
Should just hug you goodbye
But I just cant walk away from paradise
So I guess Ill sing you that sweet lullaby
And we can revisit us one more time
Yes, Ill come home with you tonight
I should just hug you goodbye
But I just cant walk away from paradise
So I guess Ill sing you that sweet lullaby
And we can revisit us one more time
Yes, Ill come home with you tonight
So here we are again
All by ourselves
So familiar you know
That it actually almost feels like deja vu
Of that night on the roof
We kissed under the sky amid city lights
A sudden flashback to so long ago
In the dark all alone
With our bodies this close
Guess some things never change
cause I still melt away
When you touch me
And say my name
Should just hug you goodbye (baby)
But I just cant walk away from paradise (so I guess)
So I guess Ill sing you that sweet lullaby
(Ill come and love you to sleep)
And we can revisit us one more time
(revisit paradise for a while)
Yes, Ill come home with you tonight (by your side)
(lullaby)
I should just hug you goodbye (see I know I should but boy)
But I just cant walk away from paradise
(you just look so good)
So I guess Ill sing you that sweet lullaby
(so Ill sing that song)
And we can revisit us one more time
(you like to hear me sing as we revisit us)
Yes, Ill come home with you tonight
(it feels, feels good)
I should just hug you goodbye
(I cant walk away
But I just cant walk away from paradise
From paradise so Ill take you home and sing to you baby)
So I guess Ill sing you that sweet lullaby
And we can revisit us one more time
Yes, Ill come home with you tonight
(though I know that I should just)
I should just hug you goodbye
(oh I cant, ...cause you)
But I just cant walk away from paradise
So I guess Ill sing you that sweet lullaby
(you and I both know)
And we can revisit us one more time
(nobody else in our lives holds a candle to you and I)
Yes, Ill come home with you tonight
I should just hug you goodbye shhh!
(so hush pretty baby)
But I just cant walk away from paradise
(mmm,its just me and you yeah, as we relive the splendor of you and I)
So I guess Ill sing you that sweet lullaby
And we can revisit us one more time
Yes, Ill come home with you tonight
(Im gonna sing our sweet lullaby)
song performed by by Mariah Carey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fairy Land ii
YOU spotted snakes with double tongue,
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong;
Come not near our fairy queen.
Philomel, with melody,
Sing in our sweet lullaby;
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby!
Never harm,
Nor spell nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh;
So, good night, with lullaby.
Weaving spiders, come not here;
Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence!
Beetles black, approach not near;
Worm nor snail, do no offence.
Philomel, with melody,
Sing in our sweet lullaby;
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby!
Never harm,
Nor spell nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh;
So, good night, with lullaby.
poem by William Shakespeare
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A Lullaby
The stars are twinkling in the skies,
The earth is lost in slumbers deep;
So hush, my sweet, and close thine eyes,
And let me lull thy soul to sleep.
Compose thy dimpled hands to rest,
And like a little birdling lie
Secure within thy cozy nest
Upon my loving mother breast,
And slumber to my lullaby,
So hushaby--O hushaby.
The moon is singing to a star
The little song I sing to you;
The father sun has strayed afar,
As baby's sire is straying too.
And so the loving mother moon
Sings to the little star on high;
And as she sings, her gentle tune
Is borne to me, and thus I croon
For thee, my sweet, that lullaby
Of hushaby--O hushaby.
There is a little one asleep
That does not hear his mother's song;
But angel watchers--as I weep--
Surround his grave the night-tide long.
And as I sing, my sweet, to you,
Oh, would the lullaby I sing--
The same sweet lullaby he knew
While slumb'ring on this bosom too--
Were borne to him on angel's wing!
So hushaby--O hushaby.
poem by Eugene Field
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Driff me off
yield with full of awesome memory,
languish in the option of time, of where I
settle my complete hope of surrender to
the wave of the sky, I command to lie
down my hand
put off the flower that floats and come
to the magic of the stream, the waiting is
gone as the captive dream cease no one
in the sun
pour out all the water spells, the drifted
echo, lives in the air, listen my blooming
dear your escape is only in dream, for
your sweet touch may be gone; as the
water goes through the stream and the
wind may come the same, the pain may
always live to win
go crystal water, as the drifted sky comes
to end and let the passing tears leaves in
the air.......
poem by Antonio Liao
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Blue
Blue, songs are like tattoos
You know Ive been to sea betore
Crown and anchor me
Or let me sail away
Hey blue, here is a song for you
Ink on a pin
Underneath the skin
An empty space to fill in
Well therere so many sinking now
Youve got to keep thinking
You can make it thru these waves
Acid, booze, and ass
Needles, guns, and grass
Lots of laughs, lots of laughs
Everybodys saying that hells the hippest way to go
Well I dont think so
But Im gonna take a look around it though
Blue, I love you
Blue, here is a shell for you
Inside youll hear a sigh
A foggy lullaby
There is your song from me
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sleep Of Spring
O for that sweet, untroubled rest
That poets oft have sung!--
The babe upon its mother's breast,
The bird upon its young,
The heart asleep without a pain--
When shall I know that sleep again?
When shall I be as I have been
Upon my mother's breast
Sweet Nature's garb of verdant green
To woo to perfect rest--
Love in the meadow, field, and glen,
And in my native wilds again?
The sheep within the fallow field,
The herd upon the green,
The larks that in the thistle shield,
And pipe from morn to e'en--
O for the pasture, fields, and fen!
When shall I see such rest again?
I love the weeds along the fen,
More sweet than garden flowers,
For freedom haunts the humble glen
That blest my happiest hours.
Here prison injures health and me:
I love sweet freedom and the free.
The crows upon the swelling hills,
The cows upon the lea,
Sheep feeding by the pasture rills,
Are ever dear to me,
Because sweet freedom is their mate,
While I am lone and desolate.
I loved the winds when I was young,
When life was dear to me;
I loved the song which Nature sung,
Endearing liberty;
I loved the wood, the vale, the stream,
For there my boyhood used to dream.
There even toil itself was play;
Twas pleasure een to weep;
Twas joy to think of dreams by day,
The beautiful of sleep.
When shall I see the wood and plain,
And dream those happy dreams again?
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clearing at Dawn
The fields are chill, the sparse rain has stopped;
The colours of Spring teem on every side.
With leaping fish the blue pond is full;
With singing thrushes the green boughs droop.
The flowers of the field have dabbled their powdered cheeks;
The mountain grasses are bent level at the waist.
By the bamboo stream the last fragment of cloud
Blown by the wind slowly scatters away.
Li Po
tr. Waley