Ballade Made In The Hot Weather
Fountains that frisk and sprinkle
The moss they overspill;
Pools that the breezes crinkle;
The wheel beside the mill,
With its wet, weedy frill;
Wind-shadows in the wheat;
A water-cart in the street;
The fringe of foam that girds
An islet's ferneries;
A green sky's minor thirds -
To live, I think of these!
Of ice and glass the tinkle,
Pellucid, silver-shrill;
Peaches without a wrinkle;
Cherries and snow at will,
From china bowls that fill
The senses with a sweet
Incuriousness of heat;
A melon's dripping sherds;
Cream-clotted strawberries;
Dusk dairies set with curds -
To live, I think of these!
Vale-lily and periwinkle;
Wet stone-crop on the sill;
The look of leaves a-twinkle
With windlets clear and still;
The feel of a forest rill
That wimples fresh and fleet
About one's naked feet;
The muzzles of drinking herds;
Lush flags and bulrushes;
The chirp of rain-bound birds -
To live, I think of these!
Envoy
Dark aisles, new packs of cards,
Mermaidens' tails, cool swards,
Dawn dews and starlit seas,
White marbles, whiter words -
To live, I think of these!
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
With Fresh, Opportunity
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Many come to live,
And not be limited.
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Many come to live,
And not be limited.
There is...
No need to fear,
A new day that appears.
There is...
No need to cry,
Those days once disguised.
There is...
No need to be,
What you once believed.
A new dawn has arrived,
With fresh...
Opportunity!
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
A new dawn.
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
A new dawn.
Many come to live,
And be in it.
A new dawn.
Many come to live,
And not be limited.
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
A new dawn.
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
A new dawn.
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
A new dawn.
Many come to live,
And not be limited.
With fresh,
Opportunity.
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Hey.
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Hey.
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Hey.
With fresh,
Opportunity.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Live
Clear out your mind
Look to your past and see what you can find
Stole soul afraid
Of the prophets perfect picture falls away
Is this the life that we choose to live
Or is this the life that has been giving
Now is the time to see what my life should be
What is mine!?
We live in Shangri La now!
We live in!
We live in!
We live in Shangri La now
We live in!
We live in!
It's a timeless rage
For many people praying to be saved
Truth is so strong
It needs lights to guide it so it can carry on
I've seen blood on my hands
Am I dead or is this where it begins
I feel the shame
For my friend who put a bullet in his brain!
We live in Shangri La now!
We live in!
We live in!
We live in Shangri La now
We live in!
We live in!
I've got
You've got
We've got
Something to die for
I've got
You've got
We've got
Something to die for
I've got
You've got
We've got
Something to die for
I've got
You've got
We've got
Something to die for
We live in Shangri La now!
We live in!
We live in!
We live in Shangri La now
We live in!
We live in!
We live in Shangri La now!
We live in!
We live in!
We live in Shangri La now
We live in!
We live in!
We live in Shangri La now!
We live in!
We live in!
We live in Shangri La now
We live in!
We live in!
We live in Shangri La now!
We live in!
We live in!
We live in Shangri La now
We live in!
We live in!
song performed by by Zug Izland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Looking-Glass River
Smooth it glides upon its travel,
Here a wimple, there a gleam--
O the clean gravel!
O the smooth stream!
Sailing blossoms, silver fishes,
Pave pools as clear as air--
How a child wishes
To live down there!
We can see our colored faces
Floating on the shaken pool
Down in cool places,
Dim and very cool;
Till a wind or water wrinkle,
Dipping marten, plumping trout,
Spreads in a twinkle
And blots all out.
See the rings pursue each other;
All below grows black as night,
Just as if mother
Had blown out the light!
Patience, children, just a minute--
See the spreading circles die;
The stream and all in it
Will clear by-and-by.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Patience Taught By Nature
'O DREARY life,' we cry, ' O dreary life ! '
And still the generations of the birds
Sing through our sighing, and the flocks and herds
Serenely live while we are keeping strife
With Heaven's true purpose in us, as a knife
Against which we may struggle ! Ocean girds
Unslackened the dry land, savannah-swards
Unweary sweep, hills watch unworn, and rife
Meek leaves drop year]y from the forest-trees
To show, above, the unwasted stars that pass
In their old glory: O thou God of old,
Grant me some smaller grace than comes to these !--
But so much patience as a blade of grass
Grows by, contented through the heat and cold.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ballades I - To Theocritus, in Winter
AH! leave the smoke, the wealth, the roar
Of London, leave the bustling street,
For still, by the Sicilian shore,
The murmur of the Muse is sweet.
Still, still, the suns of summer greet
The mountain-grave of Helike,
And shepherds still their songs repeat
Where breaks the blue Sicilian sea.
What though they worship Pan no more
That guarded once the shepherd’s seat,
They chatter of their rustic lore,
They watch the wind among the wheat:
Cicalas chirp, the young lambs bleat,
Where whispers pine to cypress tree;
They count the waves that idly beat,
Where breaks the blue Sicilian sea.
Theocritus! thou canst restore
The pleasant years, and over-fleet;
With thee we live as men of yore,
We rest where running waters meet:
And then we turn unwilling feet
And seek the world—so must it be—
We may not linger in the heat
Where breaks the blue Sicilian sea!
ENVOY
Master,—when rain, and snow, and sleet
And northern winds are wild, to thee
We come, we rest in thy retreat,
Where breaks the blue Sicilian sea!
poem by Andrew Lang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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May Song
BIRDS in the green of my garden
Blackbirds and throstle and wren,
Wet your dear wings in the tears that are Spring's
And so to your singing again!
Birds in my blossoming orchard,
Chaffinch and goldfinch and lark,
Preen your bright wings, little happy live things;
The May trees grow white in the park!
Birds in the leafy wet woodlands,
Cuckoo and nightingale brown,
Sing to the sound of the rain on green ground--
The rain on green leaves dripping down!
Fresh with the rain of the May-time,
Rich with the promise of June,
Deep in her heart, where the little leaves part,
Love, like a bird, sings in tune!
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thirst
My spirit wails for water, water now!
My tongue is aching dry, my throat is hot
For water, fresh rain shaken from a bough,
Or dawn dews heavy in some leafy spot.
My hungry body's burning for a swim
In sunlit water where the air is cool,
As in Trout Valley where upon a limb
The golden finch sings sweetly to the pool.
Oh water, water, when the night is done,
When day steals gray-white through the windowpane,
Clear silver water when I wake, alone,
All impotent of parts, of fevered brain;
Pure water from a forest fountain first,
To wash me, cleanse me, and to quench my thirst!
poem by Claude McKay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Curious Case of Bitter Brave
I don't live for everybody's happiness
I don't live for everybody's word
I don't live for everybody's expectation
I hate to wait, I hate to move away
I hate to lose, I hate to try hard
I don't live in everybody's imagination
I don't live in everybody's world
I don't live in everybody's promise
no chain against my will
I want to walk with my own feet
want to talk with my mouth
want to see, to hear, to feel with all senses
I don't have my breath
I don't have my body
I don't have my soul
I don't know how long my heart beats last
but I want to keep little of my mind
little of sweet memory
little hope for myself
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer Dawn.
Come with thy feet to the water, and bathe
Thy beauty here in the stream that will not pass!
The soft green leaves with their shadows swathe
The either bank, and under the ferns and grass
The dreamy crickets chirp in the dewy dawn,
Now that the light of the stars has grown
Into a thin pale mist in the night unknown;
The small birds twitter, whose senses quite
Have not yet out of their dreams withdrawn —
Here where my heart too waits for the light
Under the cloudy hills that soon will run
With bright feet in the ways of the sun,
As if they were but chained to the air:
Come to me now so fresh and fair —
Now that the reign of Sleep is done —
With twinkling feet in the dewy dawn!
O love, as grass comes to the lawn,
As day comes to the East, come thou —
Come to me now!
poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The King's Daughter
WE WERE ten maidens in the green corn,
Small red leaves in the mill-water:
Fairer maidens never were born,
Apples of gold for the king’s daughter.
We were ten maidens by a well-head,
Small white birds in the mill-water:
Sweeter maidens never were wed,
Rings of red for the king’s daughter.
The first to spin, the second to sing,
Seeds of wheat in the mill-water;
The third may was a goodly thing,
White bread and brown for the king’s daughter.
The fourth to sew and the fifth to play,
Fair green weed in the mill-water;
The sixth may was a goodly may,
White wine and red for the king’s daughter.
The seventh to woo, the eighth to wed,
Fair thin reeds in the mill-water;
The ninth had gold work on her head,
Honey in the comb for the king’s daughter.
The ninth had gold work round her hair,
Fallen flowers in the mill-water;
The tenth may was goodly and fair,
Golden gloves for the king’s daughter.
We were ten maidens in a field green,
Fallen fruit in the mill-water;
Fairer maidens never have been,
Golden sleeves for the king’s daughter.
By there comes the king’s young son,
A little wind in the mill-water;
“Out of ten maidens ye’ll grant me one,”
A crown of red for the king’s daughter.
“Out of ten mays ye’ll give me the best,”
A little rain in the mill-water;
A bed of yellow straw for all the rest,
A bed of gold for the king’s daughter.
He’s ta’en out the goodliest,
Rain that rains in the mill-water;
A comb of yellow shell for all the rest,
A comb of gold for the king’s daughter.
He’s made her bed to the goodliest,
Wind and hail in the mill-water;
A grass girdle for all the rest,
A girdle of arms for the king’s daughter.
He’s set his heart to the goodliest,
Snow that snows in the mill-water;
Nine little kisses for all the rest,
An hundredfold for the king’s daughter.
He’s ta’en his leave at the goodliest,
Broken boats in the mill-water;
Golden gifts for all the rest,
Sorrow of heart for the king’s daughter.
“Ye’ll make a grave for my fair body,”
Running rain in the mill-water;
“And ye’ll streek my brother at the side of me,”
The pains of hell for the king’s daughter.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Down In The Dark
down in the dark where i live
i can feel the earth squirm squishingly around me
down in the dark where i live
there is slime on the stone floor and it's cold between my toes
in my slide, slide slide down into this place
down in the dark where i live
no one cares if there is mud on my face
down in the dark where i live
i am all alone, i like that way, it's peaceful
just me and my old bones
down in the dark where i live
there is much to eat, i hope you like slugs and snails and snakes
my spice rack is complete
i have a fire and i have a pot
and if you want to curl right up
we'll eat and snuggle by my fire
down in the dark where i live
it's safe and cozy
you are always welcome here
poem by Bonnie Cote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What a wonderful world of nature...
When the early morning is born with heavenly blessed
When the bright sun rays shower through the misty clouds
When the birds choir being to chirp their songs on the trees
then the day being with a wonderful of nature.
I can feel the Mother Nature touches me with her love
I can feel the nature illuminates my heart and brighten my soul
I can see the green grass in summer-spread lovely
I can see the flowers in the spring bloomed lavishly
I can see the leaves falls in the autumn covered earth greatly
I can see the trees full of snow in the winter sprinkled
I can see the stream water gurgles from the mountain
I can see the fauna in the jungles freely set to live happily
I can see the barren lands wet and fertile
Not only they are beautiful in nature
but they serve a purpose for us
Not only they are beauty as forest
but they serve food and water for us
Always, praise the God and thank HIM for HIS beautiful creation
What a wonderful world of nature that you and me live.
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bouche-Mignonne
BOUCHE-MIGNONNE lived in the mill,
Past the vineyards shady,
Where the sun shone on a rill
Jewelled like a lady.
Proud the stream with lily-bud,
Gay with glancing swallow;
Swift its trillion-footed flood
Winding ways to follow;
Coy and still when flying wheel
Rested from its labour;
Singing when it ground the meal,
Gay as lute or tabor.
'Bouche-Mignonne,' it called, when red
In the dawn were glowing
Eaves and mill-wheel, 'leave thy bed;
Hark to me a-flowing!'
Bouche-Mignonne awoke, and quick
Glossy tresses braided.
Curious sunbeams clustered thick;
Vines her casement shaded
Deep with leaves and blossoms white
Of the morning-glory,
Shaking all their banners bright
From the mill-eaves hoary.
Swallows turned their glossy throats,
Timorous, uncertain,
When, to hear their matin notes,
Peeped she thro' her curtain.
Shook the mill-stream sweet and clear
With its silvery laughter;
Shook the mill, from flooring sere
Up to oaken rafter.
'Bouche-Mignonne!' it cried, 'come down;
Other flowers are stirring:
Pierre, with fingers strong and brown,
Sets the wheel a-birring.'
Bouche-Mignonne her distaff plies
Where the willows shiver;
Round the mossy mill-wheel flies;
Dragon-flies, a-quiver,
Flash athwart the lily-beds,
Pierce the dry reeds' thicket;
Where the yellow sunlight treads,
Chants the friendly cricket.
Butterflies about her skim-
Pouf! their simple fancies
In the willow shadows dim
Take her eyes for pansies.
Buzzing comes a velvet bee;
Sagely it supposes
Those red lips beneath the tree
Are two crimson roses.
Laughs the mill-stream wise and bright-
It is not so simple;
Knew it, since she first saw light,
Every blush and dimple.
'Bouche-Mignonne!' it laughing cries,
'Pierre as bee is silly;
Thinks two morning stars thine eyes,
And thy neck a lily.'
Bouche-Mignonne, when shadows crept
From the vine-dark hollows,
When the mossy mill-wheel slept,
Curved the airy swallows,
When the lilies closed white lids
Over golden fancies,
Homeward drove her goats and kids.
Bright the gay moon dances
With her light and silver feet,
On the mill-stream flowing;
Come a thousand perfumes sweet,
Dewy buds are blowing;
Comes an owl and greyly flits,
Jewel-eyed and hooting,
Past the green tree where she sits;
Nightingales are fluting;
Soft the wind as rustling silk
On a courtly lady;
Tinkles down the flowing milk;
Huge and still and shady
Stands the mill-wheel, resting still
From its loving labour.
Dances on the tireless rill,
Gay as lute or tabor;
'Bouche-Mignonne!' it laughing cries,
'Do not blush and tremble;
If the night has ears and eyes,
I'll for thee dissemble;
'Loud and clear and sweet I'll sing
On my far way straying;
I will hide the whispered thing
Pierre to thee is saying.
'Bouche-Mignonne, good night, good night!
Every silver hour
I will toss my lilies white
'Gainst thy maiden bower.'
poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Angel Live Forever
Little angel live like a star
Shine like a star, Laugh like a twinkle
Stand in the sky and show the path
Little angel live forever
Little angel be like a water
Accept the others faults, clean your own faults
Flow through the plains and quench the thirsty
Little angel live forever
Little angel be like a fire
Warmth the people when they are cold
Control yourself and give the comfort
Little angel live forever
Little angel be like a wind
Flow through the places and touch the people
Go through the flowers and spread the fragrance
Little angel live forever
Little angel be like a sky
Open your heart widen like a sky
Let the little birds fly in it
Little angel live forever
Little angel be like a tree
Help the humans and help the earth
Let the little birds rest in your branches
Little angel live forever
-o-
poem by Bhavani Polimetla
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Live & Die In L. A.
(jack hues)
In the heat of the day
Every time you go away
I have to piece my life together
Every time youre away
In the heat of the day
In the dark of the night
Every time I turn the light
I feel that God is not in heaven
In the dark of the night
The dark of the night
I wonder why I live alone here
I wonder why we spend these nights together
Is this the room Ill live my life forever
I wonder why in la
To live and die in la
I wonder why we waste our lives here
When we could run away to paradise
But I am held in some invisible vice
And I cant get away
To live and die in la
If I let myself go
And for where I just dont know
Id maybe hit some cold new river
That led out to the sea
An unknown sea
Id either swim or Id drown
Or just keep falling down and down
I think its that, that makes me quiver
Just to keep falling down
Down, down, down
I wonder why I live alone here
I wonder why we spend these nights together
Is this the way Ill live my life forever
I wonder why in la
To live and die in la
In every word that you say
I feel my freedom slip away
I feel the bars come down around me
And I cant get away
I cant get away
I wonder why I live alone here
I wonder why we spend these nights together
Is this the room Ill live my life forever
I wonder why in la
To live and die in la
I wonder why we waste our lives here
When we could run away to paradise
But I am held in some invisible vice
And I cant get away
To live and die in la
I cant get away
To live and die in la
I cant get away
To live and die in la
I cant get away
To live and die in la
I cant get away
To live and die in la
song performed by by Wang Chung
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Live And Die In LA
In the heat of the day
Every time you go away
I have to piece my life together
Every time you're away
In the heat of the day
In the dark of the night
Every time I turn the light
I feel that God is not in heaven
In the dark of the night
The dark of the night
I wonder why I live alone here
I wonder why we spend these nights together
Is this the room I'll live my life forever
I wonder why in LA
To live and die in LA
I wonder why we waste our lives here
When we could run away to paradise
But I am held in some invisible vice
And I can't get away
To live and die in LA
If I let myself go
And for where I just don't know
I'd maybe hit some cold new river
That led out to the sea
An unknown sea
I'd either swim or I'd drown
Or just keep falling down and down
I think its that, that makes me quiver
Just to keep falling down
Down, down, down
I wonder why I live alone here
I wonder why we spend these nights together
Is this the way I'll live my life forever
I wonder why in LA
To live and die in LA
In every word that you say
I feel my freedom slip away
I feel the bars come down around me
And I can't get away
I can't get away
I wonder why I live alone here
I wonder why we spend these nights together
Is this the room I'll live my life forever
I wonder why in LA
To live and die in LA
I wonder why we waste our lives here
When we could run away to paradise
But I am held in some invisible vice
And I can't get away
To live and die in LA
I can't get away
To live and die in LA
I can't get away
To live and die in LA
I can't get away
To live and die in LA
I can't get away
To live and die in LA
Submitted by Michael Hack
song performed by by Wang Chung
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soli Cantare Periti Arcades
Oh, I would live in a dairy,
And its Colin I would be,
And many a rustic fairy
Should churn the milk with me.
Or the fields should be my pleasure,
And my flocks should follow me,
Piping a frolic measure
For Joan or Marjorie.
For the town is black and weary,
And I hate the London street;
But the country ways are cheery,
And country lanes are sweet.
Good luck to you, Paris ladies!
Ye are over fine and nice
I know where the country maid is,
Who needs not asking twice.
Ye are brave in your silks and satins,
As ye mince about the Town;
But her feet go free in pattens,
If she wear a russet gown.
If she be not queen nor goddess
She shall milk my brown-eyed herds,
And the breasts beneath her bodice
Are whiter than her curds.
So I will live in a dairy,
And its Colin I will be,
And its Joan that I will marry,
Or, haply, Marjorie.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song. I Had A Dove
I had a dove, and the sweet dove died;
And I have thought it died of grieving:
O, what could it grieve for? its feet were tied
With a single thread of my own hand's weaving;
Sweet little red feet, why should you die--
Why should you leave me, sweet bird, why?
You lived alone in the forest tree,
Why, pretty thing! would you not live with me?
I kiss'd you oft and gave you white peas;
Why not live sweetly, as in the green trees?
poem by John Keats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Can Live Without........
I can live without my right arm
I don't need two
I can live without some fingers
I'll still have a few
I can live without my music
It might make me blue
But i can live without it
This i promise you
I can live without my paycheck
I've just got a few debts due
I can live without my iron
The creases will fall through
I can live without my senses
This is all true
I can live without my mobile
And my make-up too
Can't you see the only thing
That's not on this list is you
poem by Lucy Vernezze
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pretty Words
Poets make pets of pretty, docile words:
I love smooth words, like gold-enamelled fish
Which circle slowly with a silken swish,
And tender ones, like downy-feathred birds:
Words shy and dappled, deep-eyed deer in herds,
Come to my hand, and playful if I wish,
Or purring softly at a silver dish,
Blue Persian kittens fed on cream and curds.
I love bright words, words up and singing early;
Words that are luminous in the dark, and sing;
Warm lazy words, white cattle under trees;
I love words opalescent, cool, and pearly,
Like midsummer moths, and honied words like bees,
Gilded and sticky, with a little sting.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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