Related quotes: I Wave and wind and...

A Song Of Three Singers

Wave and wind and willow-tree
Speak a speech that no man knoweth;
Tree that sigheth, wind that bloweth,
Wave that floweth to the sea:
Wave and wind and willow-tree.

Peerless perfect poets ye,
Singing songs all songs excelling,
Fine as crystal music dwelling
In a welling fountain free:
Peerless perfect poets three!

Wave and wind and willow-tree
Know not aught of poets' rhyming,
Yet they make a silver-chiming
Sunward-climbing minstrelsy,
Soother than all songs that be.

Blows the wind it knows not why,
Flows the wave it knows not whither,
And the willow swayeth hither
Swayeth thither witlessly,
Nothing knowing save to sigh.

poem by William Watson
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Related quotes

The Willow Tree

I am a Willow Tree, that sways gently in the wind
I am a Willow Tree, who has no limits.

I am a Willow Tree, who has long and beautiful branches
I am a Willow Tree, who provides shade and comfort.

I am a Willow Tree, who can be placed anywhere
I am a Willow Tree, I whisper in the wind.

I am a Willow Tree, you think I'm very free
I am a Willow Tree, don't ever want to be me.

poem by Lucy Gocher
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The Suicide's Grave

On a tree by a river a little tomtit
Sang "Willow, titwillow, titwillow!"
And I said to him, "Dicky-bird, why do you sit
Singing 'Willow, titwillow, titwillow'?
Is it weakness of intellect, birdie?" I cried,
"Or a rather tough worm in your little inside?"
With a shake of his poor little head he replied,
"Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!"

He slapped at his chest, as he sat on that bough,
Singing "Willow, titwillow, titwillow!"
And a cold perspiration bespangled his brow,
Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!
He sobbed and he sighed, and a gurgle he gave,
Then he threw himself into the billowy wave,
And an echo arose from the suicide's grave -
"Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!"

Now I feel just as sure as I'm sure that my name
Isn't Willow, titwillow, titwillow,
That 'twas blighted affection that made him exclaim,
"Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!"
And if you remain callous and obdurate, I
Shall perish as he did, and you will know why,
Though I probably shall not exclaim as I die,
"Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!"

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Which Tree Am I?

Which tree, Which tree, Which tree Am I?
Do gaunt limbs swing high upon my trunk-
Etching signals in the sky?

Maybe my roots are solid and firm,
Grounded in being, strong and thick,
Passing soil and grub worm?

Specifically-
Am I, perhaps, an evergreen?
Warm and welcoming- Sheltering,
Birds within my canopy?

Or-
Do I sag, like a willow,
Showcasing agony with each wind,
Whispering melancholic mellows?

Which tree, Which tree, Which tree, Am I?
Oak, Redwood, Willow…. Bonsai?

poem by Lazarus Knix
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A Wave of the Sea

I am a wave of the sea
And the foam of the wave
And the wind of the foam
And the wings of the wind.

My soul’s in the salt of the sea
In the weight of the wave
In the bubbles of foam
In the ways of the wind.

My gift is the depth of the sea
The strength of the wave
The lightness of foam
The speed of the wind.

poem by by unknown author
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A Death-Parting

LEAVES and rain and the days of the year,
(Water-willow and wellaway,)
All these fall, and my soul gives ear,
And she is hence who once was here.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
Ah! but now, for a secret sign,
(The willow's wan and the water white,)
In the held breath of the day's decline
Her very face seemed pressed to mine.
(With a wind blown day and night.)
O love, of my death my life is fain;
(The willows wave on the water-way,)
Your cheek and mine are cold in the rain,
But warm they'll be when we meet again.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
Mists are heaved and cover the sky;
(The willows wail in the waning light,)
O loose your lips, leave space for a sigh,—
They seal my soul, I cannot die.
(With a wind blown day and night.)
Leaves and rain and the days of the year,
(Water-willow and wellaway,)
All still fall, and I still give ear,
And she is hence, and I am here.
(With a wind blown night and day.)

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Willow tree by the lake

Willow tree by the lake standing tall since the day one
Home for birds and squirrels, place of fun
Breeze will come and play with her branches
Whistle at them before they move on
Any time, at mid day, at night or at the crack of dawn
Humming bird feeder and bird house hanging all over the tree
They swing back and forth and hang free
All summer it is a fun house as the birds come and go
Rabbits will hop around on the ground below.
Ducks will sit idle or sleep under her shade
Squirrels will carry food up the trunk, not afraid
During winter when nature sleeps no life around
Willow tree will shelter the birds, the squirrels
and even the worms under it's ground.
Many yrs ago I planted the tree, saw it grow day by day
Sat under it, wrote poems, it made me happy and gay
I know one day my time will be up and I will be gone
But my willow tree will still be here, singing with the wind at each dawn.

poem by Syed Karim
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The Willow Tree

Around the willow tree
Sounds of life rang through the air
It felt like home to me.

Home, where I was not.
But this willow tree comforted me,
And so I forgot.

This tree was part of me.
It's limbs swaying so gracefully
A lovely thing to see.

But now I am back home.
And I think about the willow tree
Standing all alone.

Home, where I'm glad to be.
But often I still find myself
Longing for that tree.

poem by Desiree Peters
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The Willow Tree

In the graveyard stands a willow tree,
You can hide within its branches,
And it will keep you safe,
And it will keep you warm,
And it will keep all your demons at bay,
I like the willow tree,
It sets me free,
And safe within its branches it cradles me,

As I look out through its branches,
I see people crying for their loved ones,
Tears rolling down their faces,
I want to shout to them,
And let them in here with me,
I like the willow tree,
It sets me free,
And safe within its branches it cradles me,

But I can’t, I can’t let them in,
Even though I know their suffering,
Because it’s the living that hurt you,
And I don’t want too be hurt anymore,
So only my dead friends are in here with me,
I like the willow tree,
It sets me free,
And safe within its branches it cradles me,
The willow tree.

poem by Darren Harris
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Willow Tree

Let me be your weeping willow tree
Surround you with my long limbs
My dear, let me grow in the shade
In the sands by the bank of your river
Let I drink from your streams
The cool breeze fill my leaves
We will sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
Sweet river caress how softly
Stir my searching roots
Shading the sun in the summers heat
Let I cool you
We have been dancing so long
In the winters freeze and the summers drought
We survive
We belong
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
I wish I was your weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
We can sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
Let me be
Your willow tree
Your willow tree

song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Self Portrait

The willow tree stands alone.
It grows alone, relying only on the Sun and the Rain.

This willow tree offers shade.
It only shades during the day, casting a monster
of a shadow in the mornings and evenings,
its size shrinking in between. Its shadow
is solid in some places, but has empty
places of sunlight dotting the ground beneath
it, allowing room for purity among the darkness.

This willow tree is immune to the Wind.
It bends whichever way it needs to survive,
sacrificing its tiny leaves to be carried away.

This willow tree is a home.
Small birds build nests on its branches,
laying eggs that will bring new Life to the World.
The nest is supported. Some things of little
weight can be supported, but anything that drags
the branches too close to the ground
will be dropped so the tree can be saved.

This willow tree is weak.
As it grows, its branches come closer and closer
to the ground, for it cannot support the weight
of itself anymore. It cannot help its own soul.
With one swing of an ax, the tree will be felled.
It will be finished, left there to be eaten
and burrowed in and rotted away by the Earth.

poem by Zoe Guillory
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The Visitant

A cloud moved close. The bulk of the wind shifted.
A tree swayed over water.
A voice said:
Stay. Stay by the slip-ooze. Stay.

Dearest tree, I said, may I rest here?
A ripple made a soft reply.
I waited, alert as a dog.
The leech clinging to a stone waited;
And the crab, the quiet breather.

Slow, slow as a fish she came,
Slow as a fish coming forward,
Swaying in a long wave;
Her skirts not touching a leaf,
Her white arms reaching towards me.

She came without sound,
Without brushing the wet stones,
In the soft dark of early evening,
She came,
The wind in her hair,
The moon beginning.

I woke in the first of morning.
Staring at a tree, I felt the pulse of a stone.

Where’s she now, I kept saying.
Where’s she now, the mountain’s downy girl?

But the bright day had no answer.
A wind stirred in a web of appleworms;
The tree, the close willow, swayed.

poem by Theodore Roethke
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Willow, Willow, Willow

A poore soule sat sighing under a sicamore tree;
O willow, willow, willow!
With his hand on his bosom, his head on his knee:
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.

He sigh'd in his singing, and after each grone,
Come willow, willow, willow!
Come willow, willow, willow!
'I am dead to all pleasure, my true-love is gone.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be may garland.

'My love she is turned; untrue she doth prove;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
She renders me nothing but hate for my love.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the grene willow, &c.

'O pitty me' (cried he), 'ye lovers each one;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Her heart's hard as marble; she rues not my mone.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.'

The cold streams ran by him, his eyes wept apace;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
The salt tears fell from him, which drowned his face.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

The mute birds sate by him, made tame by his mones;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
The salt tears fell from him, which softened the stones.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland!

'Let nobody blame me, her scornes I do prove;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
She was borne to be faire; I, to die for her love.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

'O that beauty should harbour a heart that's so hard!
Sing willow, willow, willow!
Sing willow, willow, willow!
My true love rejecting without all regard.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

'Let love no more boast him in palace or bower;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
For women are trothles, and flote in an houre.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

'But what helps complaining? In vaine I complaine:
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
I must patiently suffer her scorne and disdaine.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

'Come, all you forsaken, and sit down by me,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
He that 'plaines of his false love, mine's falser than she.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

'The willow wreath weare I, since my love did fleet;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
A garland for lovers forsaken most meete.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland!'

Part the Second

'Lowe lay'd by my sorrow, begot by disdaine,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Against her too cruell, still, still I complaine.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland!

'O love too injurious, to wound my poore heart,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
To suffer the triumph, and joy in my smart!
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

'O willow, willow, willow! the willow garland,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
A sign of her falsenesse before me doth stand.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.

'As here it doth bid to despair and to dye,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
So hang it, friends, ore me in grave where I lye.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

'In grave where I rest mee, hang this to the view,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Of all that doe knowe her, to blaze her untrue.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

'With these words engraven, as epitaph meet,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
'Here lyes one, drank poyson for potion most sweet.'
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

'Though she thus unkindly hath scorned my love,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
And carelessly smiles at the sorrowes I prove;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

'I cannot against her unkindly exclaim,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Cause once well I loved her, and honoured her name.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.

'The name of her sounded so sweete in mine eare,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
It rays'd my heart lightly, the name of my deare;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

'As then 'twas my comfort, it now is my griefe;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
It now brings me anguish; then brought me reliefe.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

'Farewell, faire false-hearted, plaints end with my breath!
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Thou dost loath me, I love thee, though cause of my death.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.'

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Willow Weep For Me

Ann ronell
Willow weep for me
Willow weep for me
Bent your branches down along the ground and cover me
Listen to my plea
Hear me willow and weep for me
Gone my lovely dreams
Lovely summer dreams
Gone and left me here
To wheep my tears along the stream
Sad as I can be
Hear me willow and weep for me
Whisper to the wind and say thay love has sinned
To leave my heart a sign
And crying alone
Murmur to the night
Hide her starry light
So none will find me sighing
Crying all alone
Wheeping willow tree
Wheeping sympathy
Bent your branches down along the ground and cover me
Listen to me plee
Hear me willow and weep for me
Willow
Willow
Wheep for me

song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The old willow tree

Under that old willow tree
I kissed you for the first time
But now that old willow tree is
Withering and it is dying in agony
The same thing happened when you
Refused to come outside and talk
To me outside in the pouring rain
And you wrote a letter to me
(It was brought to me by a laughing
Bragging clown of the old school)
And that's how you told me that
Your love for me has gone cold
Now there is no difference between
Me and that old dying willow tree
I am alone in the death agonies why
Don't you come here and see for
Yourself what you'd done done?

poem by Ngaka Motaung
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You Are The Tree, I Am The Wind

You are the tree, I am the wind,
You alter my course, yet you also bend;
No longer is either the same after each-
I am the wind, be my tree, I do beseech!
Ethereal, unseen-yet alterations I may make!
Magnificent, beautiful-away, my gust, you take!

Together, we are an ever-changing landscape,
Making wondrous reality out of our dreasmscape!
A tree, without its wind-breathless, becalmed:
A wind, without its tree-purposeless, withdrawn!

The wind sweeps around the tree, the tree dances
More inspiring is this than all other romances!
I, the most powerful wind, you, the most beautificent tree;
Wonder do I what, as one, together, we may be!

Maurice Harris,30 August 2009

poem by Maurice Harris
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I wanted to be a Willow Tree

Tangled in the loving slender arms
I would knot the ends
To make a swing
Under my willow tree

It sat next to an old farmhouse
Deserted since the depression
Along the banks of
The Wapsipinicon

Untamed grandeur
During a storm
I climbed into her knotty divide
The tree held me
Like a mother cuddling me to her breast

I wanted to be that willow tree
Its soulful sway
The ability to stand firm
Throughout the worst
Give comfort to anyone seeking it

Someone took an ax
To my willow tree
As if a nuisance
Without regard
For all it endured

Barrenness now resides
Where life once lived
My beautiful tree
I weep for it
Because it wept for me

poem by Wanda Swim Strunk
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What Is the Wind For?

What is the wind for?
If it's not for songs in trees;
What is the wind for?
I feel a song inside of me.
Every day the wind blows,
I think of thoughts from my heart.
Wind melodies come and they go,
Without me knowing where they start.
What is the wind for?
If not for songs like these.
What is the wind for?
If not for songs in trees.
I have been going through life,
Both with comfort and pain.
I have been going through life,
Both with effect and in vain.
But still I hear wind songs,
As they steadily grow;
With melodies chanting,
That no one really knows.

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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An Autumn Treasure-Trove

'Tis the time of the year's sundown, and flame
Hangs on the maple bough;
And June is the faded flower of a name;
The thin hedge hides not a singer now.
Yet rich am I; for my treasures be
The gold afloat in my willow-tree.

Sweet morn on the hillside dripping with dew,
Girded with blue and pearl,
Counts the leaves afloat in the streamlet too;
As the love-lorn heart of a wistful girl,
She sings while her soul brooding tearfully
Sees a dream of gold in the willow-tree.

All day pure white and saffron at eve,
Clouds awaiting the sun
Turn them at length to ghosts that leave
When the moon's white path is slowly run
Till the morning comes, and with joy for me
O'er my gold agleam in the willow-tree.

The lilacs that blew on the breast of May
Are an old and lost delight;
And the rose lies ruined in his careless way
As the wind turns the poplars underwhite,
Yet richer am I for the autumn; see
All my misty gold in the willow-tree.

poem by Eugene Field
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Willow Weep For Me

(1932) ann ronell
Willow weep for me, willow weep for me,
Bend your branches green along the stream that runs to sea,
Listen to my plea, listen willow weep for me,
Gone my lovers dream, lovely summer dream,
Gone and left me here to weep my tears into the stream,
Sad as I can be - hear me willow and weep for me.
Whisper to the wind to say that love has sinned
To leave my heart aching and making this moan,
Murmur to the night to hide her starry light,
So none will find me sighing and crying all alone,
Weeping willow tree, weep in sympathy,
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me,
When the shadows fall, bend oh willow and weep for me.
To leave my heart aching and making this moan,
So none will find me sighing and crying all alone,
Weeping willow tree, weep in sympathy,
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me,
When the shadows fall, bend oh willow,
Bend oh willow and weep for me.

song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Witch Of Mull

'Witch of Mull, the strangers here
Come to wreak their vengeance drear:
Call the wind and call the wrack;
Drown them, drive them, beat them back!'