En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Song II. The Landscape

How pleased within my native bowers
Erewhile I pass'd the day!
Was ever scene so deck'd with flowers?
Were ever flowers so gay?

How sweetly smiled the hill, the vale,
And all the landscape round!
The river gliding down the dale,
The hill with beeches crown'd!

But now, when urged by tender woes,
I speed to meet my dear,
That hill and stream my zeal oppose,
And check my fond career.

No more, since Daphne was my theme,
Their wonted charms I see;
That verdant hill and silver stream,
Divide my love and me.

poem by William Shenstone
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Landskip

How pleas'd within my native bowers
Erewhile I pass'd the day!
Was ever scene so deck'd with flowers?
Were ever flowers so gay?

How sweetly smil'd the hill, the vale,
And all the landskip round!
The river gliding down the dale!
The hill with beeches crown'd!

But now, when urg'd by tender woes,
I speed to meet my dear,
That hill and stream my zeal oppose,
And check my fond career.

No more, since Daphne was my theme,
Their wonted charms I see:
That verdant hill, and silver stream,
Divide my love and me.

poem by William Shenstone
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dreary Change {The sun upon the Weirdlaw Hill}

The sun upon the Weirdlaw Hill,
In Ettrick's vale, is sinking sweet;
The westland wind is hush and still,
The lake lies sleeping at my feet.
Yet not the landscape to mine eye
Bears those bright hues that once it bore;
Though evening, with her richest dye,
Flames o'er the hills of Ettrick's shore.

With listless look along the plain,
I see Tweed's silver current glide,
And coldly mark the holy fane
Of Melrose rise in ruin'd pride.
The quiet lake, the balmy air,
The hill, the stream, the tower, the tree,-—
Are they still such as once they were?
Or is the dreary change in me?

Alas, the warp'd and broken board,
How can it bear the painter's dye!
The harp of strain'd and tuneless chord,
How to the minstrel's skill reply!
To aching eyes each landscape lowers,
To feverish pulse each gale blows chill;
And Araby's or Eden's bowers
Were barren as this moorland hill.

poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Up On The Hill

We come from a long line of lenders
Who get rich just exploiting you spenders
But now we just manage our blenders
Up, up, up on the hill
It helps to be charming and funny
Have cute names like binky and bunny
But the main things still oodles of money
Up, up, up on the hill
Up on the hill we are the big cheeses
Up on the hill we own the cool breezes
Top of the heap is where we know we belong
Up on the hill above the confusion
Up on the hill we live our illusions
Up, up, up on the hill
Marmalade mansions beneath cloudless skies
Breathtaking vistas that baffle your eyes
Were passing our days in a rare atmosphere
Sun, sea, and stars, and warm breezes all year
Our blood is decidedly blue-ish
Were leery of anything newish
And or course, darling, nobodys jewish
Up, up, up on the hill
Up on the hill we are the big cheeses
Up on the hill we own the cool breezes
The top of the heap is where we know we belong
Up on the hill above the confusion
Up on the hill we live our illusions
Up, up, up on the hill
Up, up, up on the hill
Way up, up, up on the hill

song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The River and the Hill

And they shook their sweetness out in their sleep
On the brink of that beautiful stream,
But it wandered along with a wearisome song
Like a lover that walks in a dream:
So the roses blew
When the winds went through,
In the moonlight so white and still;
But the river it beat
All night at the feet
Of a cold and flinty hill -
Of a hard and senseless hill!

I said, "We have often showered our loves
Upon something as dry as the dust;
And the faith that is crost, and the hearts that are lost -
Oh! how can we wittingly trust?
Like the stream which flows,
And wails as it goes.
Through the moonlight so white and still,
To beat and to beat
All night at the feet
Of a cold and flinty hill -
Of a hard and senseless hill?

"River, I stay where the sweet roses blow,
And drink of their pleasant perfumes!
Oh, why do you moan, in this wide world alone,
When so much affection here blooms?
The winds wax faint,
And the moon like a saint
Glides over the woodlands so white and still!
But you beat and you beat
All night at the feet
Of that cold and flinty hill -
Of that hard and senseless hill!"

poem by Henry Kendall
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The Reverie of Poor Susan

At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,
Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years:
Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard
In the silence of morning the song of the Bird.

Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees
A mountain ascending, a vision of trees;
Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide,
And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.

Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale,
Down which she so often has tripped with her pail;
And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's,
The one only dwelling on earth that she loves.

She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade,
The mist and the river, the hill and the shade:
The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise,
And the colours have all passed away from her eyes!

poem by William Wordsworth
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Sugar Hill

Writer Dolly Parton
Up on Sugar Hill we'd go walkin'
Hand in hand while the south wind blowed
Bob whites callin', black crows cawkin',
Countin' the warts on a toad in the road
Down in the mill pond swimmin naked
Showin' more than we should have showed
We were just kids explorin' nature
Learnin more than we should have knowed
Sug, Sug, Sug, Sugar Hill memories
Stealing sugar on the mountainside
Sug, Sug, Sug, Sugar Hill sugar
Sweeter than candy and cake and pie
A yellow dress drapin off of my shoulder
Seein' myself in the lookin glass
Older now and a little bit bolder
Thinkin' about our summers past
Up on Sugar Hill we'd go walkin'
Hand in hand up the mountainside
Teenage lovers plannin' and talkin'
Dreamin' of a future for you and I
Sug, Sug, Sug, Sugar Hill memories
Stealin' sugar on the mountain top
Sug, Sug, Sug, Sugar Hill sugar
Sweeter than ice cream and soda pop
Years have past, we're married with children
Our days are happy and our memories fond
We still find it quite appealin'
To go to Sugar Hill and swim naked in the pond
Sug, Sug, Sug, Sugar Hill memories
Stealin' sugar on the mountaintop
Sug, Sug, Sug, Sugar Hill sugar
Sweeter than ice cream and soda pop
Up on Sugar Hill theres a wealth of treasure
Down its memory lane I go walking still
What it means to me is more than I can measure
Golden moments up on Sugar Hill
Up on Sugar Hill with the fireflies glowin
Sound of katydids and the whipperwill
Honeysuckle bloomin and a mountain stream flowin
A little spot of heaven up on Sugar Hill
Up On Sugar Hill with the bobwhites callin
Black crows cawkin', and the soft wind blows
Up on Sugar Hill there are love birds talkin'
Up on Sugar Hill where the good times roll
Sug, Sug, Sug, Sugar Hill memories
Stealin sugar on the mountainside
Sug, Sug, Sug, Sugar Hill sugar
Sweeter than candy and cakes and pies
A little spot of heaven up on Sugar Hill

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Old Picture

THERE are times when a dream delicious
Steals into a musing hour,
Like a face with love capricious
That peeps from a woodland bower;
And one dear scene comes changeless;
A wooded hill and a river;
A deep, cool bend, where the lilies end,
And the elm-tree shadows quiver.

And I lie on the brink there, dreaming
That the life I live is a dream;
That the real is but the seeming,
And the true is the sun-flecked stream.
Beneath me, the perch and the bream sail past
In the dim cool depths of the river;
The struggling fly breaks the mirrored sky
And the elm-tree shadows quiver.

There are voices of children away on the hill;
There are bees thro' the flag-flowers humming;
The lighter-man calls to the lock, and the mill
On the farther side is drumming.
And I sink to sleep in my dream of a dream,
In the grass by the brink of a river,
Where the voices blend and the lilies end
And the elm-tree shadows quiver.

Like a gift from the past is the kindly dream,
For the sorrow and passion and pain
Are adrift like the leaves on the breast of the stream,
And the child-life comes again.
O, the sweet sweet pain of a joy that died—
Of a pain that is joy forever!
O, the life that died in the stormy tide
That was once my sun-flecked river.

poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dark Hill

On dark hill, in moonlight
A lone stranger struggles through the night
With hopes dashed and dreams torn asunder
Though dark flowers he slowly wanders
And looks around trying to find
A little space and piece of mind.

But the dark hill is unforgiving
And no escape or hope its giving
The dark flowers turn and scream
To remind him that its just a dream
Lost inside a world of pain
One day hoping to be whole again

The darkness is always in your own mind
Never ending and making you blind
The dark hill takes and leaves nothing behind
Nothing but the emptiness of your own desire.

So on the dark hill the man continues
All alone on his weary journey
To find the peace he so deserves

poem by Monkee Thompson
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The Hill

Who are those people
living at the top of the hill?
I don't know them.
I guess I never will.

Who are the people
that I see
living at the bottom of the hill
just like me?

We are the complainers
and we find it odd
that the ones at the top of the hill
think they're God.

We need to stop complainin'
and climb up the hill
and shout out loud
'We've had our fill.'

You're not Gods.
You never have been,
These hills where you're livin'
are filled with sin.

You've sinned against humanity
at the bottom of the hill.
And all that you'; ve done
is against God's will.

You're the imposters
with crowns on your head.
You are the laughables
that have been misled.

We, at the bottom of the hill
always will survive.
We'll do what we've always done
to keep our hopes alive.
We will pray.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Lavender Hill

I want to walk eternity,
In through the land of make believe.
And watch the clouds roll over me,
And let the sun shine down on me.
The only place that I wanna be,
Lavender hill for me.
Wish I could live on sugar and milk,
Then I could live on lavender hill.
Then I could raise my head to the sky,
And let the sun saturate me with love.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill,
Everybody loves lavender hill.
Even the bird that sits in the tree,
Seems to sing sweet melodies.
Even the breeze is whispering,
Lavender hill for me.
While people eat their biscuits with tea,
They dream of daffodils that sway in the breeze.
And every sunday afternoon,
Tidy ladies shine their shoes.
And every little lady dreams,
Lavender memories.
Lavender hill for me.
Lavender hill for me.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nancy of the Vale

The western sky was purpled o'er
With every pleasing ray;
And flocks reviving felt no more
The sultry heats of day;

When from an hazel's artless bower
Soft warbled Strephon's tongue;
He blest the scene, he blest the hour,
While Nancy's praise he sung.

'Let fops with fickle falsehood range
The paths of wanton love,
While weeping maids lament their change,
And sadden every grove:

'But endless blessings crown the day
I saw fair Esham's dale!
And every blessing find its way
To Nancy of the Vale.

''Twas from Avona's banks the maid
Diffused her lovely beams,
And every shining glance display'd
The Naiad of the streams.

'Soft as the wild-duck's tender young,
That float on Avon's tide;
Bright as the water-lily, sprung,
And glittering near its side

'Fresh as the bordering flowers her bloom,
Her eye all mild to view;
The little halcyon's azure plume
Was never half so blue.

'Her shape was like the reed so sleek,
So taper, strait, and fair;
Her dimpled smile, her blushing cheek,
How charming sweet they were!

'Far in the winding vale retired,
This peerless bud I found,
And shadowing rocks and woods conspired
To fence her beauties round.

'That Nature in so lone a dell
Should form a nymph so sweet!
Or Fortune to her secret cell
Conduct my wandering feet!

'Gay lordlings sought her for their bride,
But she would ne'er incline:
'Prove to your equals true,' she cried,
'As I will prove to mine.

''Tis Strephon, on the mountain's brow,
Has won my right good will;
To him I gave my plighted vow,
With him I'll climb the hill.'

'Struck with her charms and gentle truth,
I clasp'd the constant fair;
To her alone I gave my youth,
And vow my future care.

'And when this vow shall faithless prove,
Or I those charms forego;
The stream that saw our tender love,
That stream shall cease to flow.'

poem by William Shenstone
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Country Dreamer

Id like to walk in a field with you,
Take my hat and my boots off too.
Id like to lie in a field with you.
Would you like to do it too, may?
Would you like to do it too?
Id like to stand in a stream with you,
Roll my trousers up and not feel blue.
Id like to wash in a stream with you.
Would you like to do it too?
You and i, country dreamer,
When theres nothing else to do;
Me oh my, conutry dreamer,
Make a country dream come true.
Id like to climb up a hill with you,
Stand on top and admire the view.
Id like to roll down a hill with you.
Would you like to do it too, may?
Would you like to do it too?
Id like to climb up a hill with you,
Take my hat and my boots off too.
Id like to lie in a field with you.
Would you like to do it too, may?
Would you like to do it too?

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring.

'Let the light rain on her, the sweet Spring, till
She teems with greenery in the warm air,
Flower-hued, and vocal with the tender joy
Of bleating lambs and young birds on the wing.'
Thus on the cold hill doth the herdsman pray
Beneath his frozen star; the milkmaid, too,
As her raw hands take up the milking-pail,
And the wind freezes in the red dawn near: —
'Come, Spring, earth's sap, and mount in me until
I bloom, a rose of love: smile in mine eyes
Till my love from his wintry hill shall see
The star of youth, and leap into my arms!
O Spring, sweet Spring! but hear my prayer, and I
Shall build thee bowers of roses on the hill,
And all the summer there with bird and bee
Shall joy feast in the beauty of our love!'
Thus do they chant the wintry time away
In hill and vale, the two who look to when
The warmth of beauty takes life's wonder on,
And the rose of the flesh shall bloom for them.

poem by Robert Crawford
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A Mansion On The Hill

Hank williams
Tonight down here in the valley
Im lonesome and oh, how I feel
As I sit here alone in your cabin
I can see your mansion on the hill
Do you remember when we parted?
The story to me you revealed
You said you could live without love, dear
In your loveless mansion on the hill
Ive waited all through the years. love
To give you a heart true and real
Cos I know you are living in sorrow
In your loveless mansion on the hill
The light shines bright from your window
The trees stand so silent and still
I know youre alone with your pride, dear
In your loveless mansion on the hill

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Goat Hill

Goat Hill

Walking out the door that man told me to go to hell
My son asked mommy where’s Goat Hill
I said I don’t know son it must be through the valley
My son said mommy lets go there
Up to goat hill
I bet it’s on top of the mountain
I bet there is waterfalls, birds, trees, pretty flowers for all the butterflies and honey bees
I said son if we could I’m sure we would
Most definitely go up to goat hill
I’m not ever going to take you where that man said to go
That place is an internal melting pot
And its way to hot
There’s no mountains with snow on top
No waterfalls trees birds butterflies or honey bees in the place that man said to go
Son I know you are good
Some day together I believe we will find the place called Goat Hill
You found somewhere in your mind
Where life is gentle and Kind
Everyday and every night all the time
Son I bet up on Goat Hill we will only see Gods will being done by the Father and the Son

poem by E.Marie AldrichCreasy
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Climb That Hill

Something threw me in the dirt
Kinda got my feelings hurt
We was burnin somewhere down the wind
I had to get up and climb that hill again
Little lucys such a doll
Like to climb her garden wall
But she only sees me as a friend
I got to get up and climb that hill again
I gotta bury my pride, drag this line
Over that hill one more time
Gotta get up in the morning, make my way
Over that hill again
I gotta bury my pride, drag this line
Over that hill one more time
Gotta get up in the morning, make my way
Over that hill again
Tempers flare and the words are spoken
You close one door and another opens
You hear the music and youre wondering
You got to get up and climb that hill
Get up and climb that hill
You got to get up and climb that hill again

song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Echo, The Mocking Bird

to produce the echo
i need one single voice
to make the sound
i need the hill and another hill
sort of wall
where the voice is trapped
and bounce
from one corner to another
and there you have
the echo

you are the sound
i am the hill
and another hill
i am many
much many than you
expect

do you see that tree
higher than your roof?
i am that hill beyond
the grassy field
do you see the mockingbird
sitting on the twig?

please do not mention
any name
do not drag
another one

but if no one admits
well,
it could be me
i supposed so, it can be me too.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Mansion On The Hill

Tonight down here in the valley
Im lonesome and o how I feel
As I sit here alone in my cabin
I can see your mansion on the hill
Do you recall when we parted
The story to me you revealed
You said you could live without loving
In your loveless mansion on the hill
Ive waited all through the years love
To give you a heart true and real
Cause I know youre living in sorrow
In your loveless mansion on the hill
The light shine bright from yer window
The trees stand so silent and still
I know youre alone with your pride dear
In your loveless mansion on the hill

song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woak Hill

When sycamore leaves wer a-spreadèn
Green-ruddy in hedges,
Bezide the red doust o' the ridges,
A-dried at Woak Hill;

I packed up my goods all a sheenèn
Wi' long years o' handlèn,
On dousty red wheel ov a waggon,
To ride at Woak Hill.

The brown thatchen ruf o' the dwellèn,
I then wer a-le{'a}vèn,
Had shelter'd the sleek head o' Me{'a}ry,
My bride at Woak Hill.

But now vor zome years, her light voot-vall
'S a-lost vrom the vloorèn.
Too soon vor my ja{'y} an' my childern,
She died at Woak Hill.

But still I do think that, in soul,
She do hover about us;
To ho vor her motherless childern,
Her pride at Woak Hill.

Zoo--lest she should tell me hereafter
I stole off 'ithout her,
An' left her, uncall'd at house-riddèn,
To bide at Woak Hill--

I call'd her so fondly, wi' lippèns
All soundless to others,
An' took her wi' a{'i}r-reachèn hand,
To my zide at Woak Hill.

On the road I did look round, a-talkèn
To light at my shoulder,
An' then led her in at the doorway,
Miles wide vrom Woak Hill.

An' that's why vo'k thought, vor a season,
My mind wer a-wandrèn
Wi' sorrow, when I wer so sorely
A-tried at Woak Hill.

But no; that my Me{'a}ry mid never
Behold herzelf slighted,
I wanted to think that I guided
My guide vrom Woak Hill.

poem by William Barnes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Climbing The Hill

Stand still
With your hand climb the hill
If you use a spoon
You won't finish soon
Don't dream
Because you might no see the steam
If you do so don't cry
When you find the plate clean and dry
Eat more food
To reach you adulthood
Be careful they might think you are rude
Take a look
So that they may let you off the hook
If a rock of a hill sticks on your neck,
Drinking water is the trick
If it's too hot on your chest
No one can check
Just resist
Until your delicious hill gets flat
Wishing to get another plate.

poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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