On The Same Occasion
(The Final Submission Of The Tyrolese)
YE Storms, resound the praises of your King!
And ye mild Seasons--in a sunny clime,
Midway on some high hill, while father Time
Looks on delighted--meet in festal ring,
And loud and long of Winter's triumph sing!
Sing ye, with blossoms crowned, and fruits, and flowers,
Of Winter's breath surcharged with sleety showers,
And the dire flapping of his hoary wing!
Knit the blithe dance upon the soft green grass;
With feet, hands, eyes, looks, lips, report your gain;
Whisper it to the billows of the main,
And to the aerial zephyrs as they pass,
That old decrepit Winter--'He' hath slain
That Host, which rendered all your bounties vain!
poem by William Wordsworth
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Wild Daisies
They are Nature's natural survivors though they seem so dainty and small
And they bloom in all Seasons and weather In Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall
With yellow hearts and snow white petals the wildflowers everybody does know
Even on the coldest days of Winter they bloom in the shade by hedgerow
Wild daisies distinct from all others the flowers everyone recognize
They close their petals to the night air and open their hearts to the sunrise
Even in the coldest days of Winter the wildflowers one often does see
So dainty looking yet so hardy they always do look disease free
When I was young in depths of Winter they bloomed in the fields far away
The very same species of wild daisies I see in the town park today
They must have been around forever the hardiest of little wildflowers
They even bloom in the coldest of weather in the sleety and wintery showers
They are Nature's natural survivors the poets their praises do sing
They bloom in all Seasons and weather Summer, Autumn and Winter and Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Winter Message
A flake of snow in flurry thro’ the air
Had landed as a kiss upon my cheek:
A secret message, just for me to share;
To take to heart but never dare to speak
About or presuppose to other eyes
Your open feelings – distant though they are.
And so, upon your lips, my OWN surprise:
A flake of snow returned from me afar.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Parting shot for JB Earley
Snowflakes dance like butterflies
before my disbelieving eyes.
I was prepared to sing springs song
But it appears that I was wrong.
King Winter has not fled the scene,
despite the new shoots showing green.
But merely waiting in the wings
to find a chance to upset things.
This has to be his final try
he can’t rely on his ally.
The wind will change soon as it should
to a soft breeze to suit the mood
of spring who will repaint anew
The world that winter hid from view.
21-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Dying Child
He could not die when trees were green,
For he loved the time too well.
His little hands, when flowers were seen,
Were held for the bluebell,
As he was carried o'er the green.
His eye glanced at the white-nosed bee;
He knew those children of the spring:
When he was well and on the lea
He held one in his hands to sing,
Which filled his heart with glee.
Infants, the children of the spring!
How can an infant die
When butterflies are on the wing,
Green grass, and such a sky?
How can they die at spring?
He held his hands for daisies white,
And then for violets blue,
And took them all to bed at night
That in the green fields grew,
As childhood's sweet delight.
And then he shut his little eyes,
And flowers would notice not;
Birds' nests and eggs caused no surprise,
He now no blossoms got;
They met with plaintive sighs.
When winter came and blasts did sigh,
And bare were plain and tree,
As he for ease in bed did lie
His soul seemed with the free,
He died so quietly.
poem by John Clare
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The Promise Of Spring
JUST a whisper, half-heard,
But our heart knows the word;
Caresses that seem
Like love's lips in a dream;
Yet we know she is here,
The desirèd, the dear,
The love of the year!
In the murmur of boughs,
In the softening of skies,
In the sun on the house,
In the daffodil's green
(Half an inch, half-unseen
Mid the mournful brown mould
Where the rotten leaf lies)
Her story is told.
O Spring, darling Spring,
O sweet days of blue weather
The thrushes shall sing,
Fields shall grow green again,
Daisies be seen again,
Hedges grow white;
Then down the lane,
Grown leafy again,
Shall go lovers together--
Lovers who see again
Sunshine and showers,
Perfume and flowers,
Dewy dear hours,
Dream and delight.
Warm shall nests be again,
Winter's behind us;
Springtime shall find us,
Taking our hands,
Lead us away from the cold and the snow,
Into the green world where primroses grow.
Winter, hard winter, forgotten, forgiven;
All the old pain paid, to seventy times seven,
All the new glory a-glow.
Love, when Spring calls, will you still turn away?
Winter has wooed you in vain, and shall May?
Love, when Spring calls, will you go?
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Now Here Again Is Spring
The day is now in sun high
And everything its pleasure
From winter's footfall try
Of dark and frost erasure
Now morning comes in glow
And glory songs of life
Before there were in snow
The footsteps of our strife
Now here again is spring
So full of life and green
From under winter's wing
That only gloom had seen
And every while is now fun
Of much light and flowers
For darkness deep’s on run
In every new coming hours
The yesterdays of sprung deep
In all its gray and dark
Are now whiles in joys sweep
With joy and light to spark
Come spring and sing again
With delight of life new born
And let old winter be in vain
With its loneliness outworn
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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A Morning In Late June
In the cold depths of Winter the grey butcherbird sing
And only nine weeks or thereabouts till the first breath of Spring
Five days ago of daylight hours the year's shortest day
And time it keeps ticking and ticking away.
The drake in the pond performs his courtship display
As he swims by his mate he nods his head her way
And he quacks to tell others she belongs to me
He will be the father of her family.
The buds on the camellias beginning to sprout
In the coldest of Winter their blooms will be out
They will be cloaked in flowers by the end of July
When the chill winds of Winter blow across the sky.
A morning in late June a chill in the breeze
And the rainbow lorikeets chirp on the flowering gum trees
As with their tongues they sip nectar from the pink gum flowers
Amongst leaves rather wet from recent heavy showers.
The sky clouded over and a chill in the wind
And the first month of Winter is close to an end
And old father time he keeps ticking away
And Spring is approaching with each passing day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Bright And Sunny Day
A bright and sunny day in the Winter it makes one happy to be alive
A nice day to go out the Country if one had a car for to drive
Or to have a walk in the parkland and enjoy the Winter sunshine
Last night it was windy and raining this sort of weather suits me fine,
It is said of Victoria's weather that you get four Seasons in a day
It rains and becomes chilly and windy and skies become clouded and gray
And then the sun burns through the cumulus making everywhere warm and bright
And sparrows in the sunlit hedgerows are chirping in the Winter sunlight,
A bright and sunny day in the Winter and not a rain cloud in the sky
A typical Winter's day in Victoria what one might expect of July
The State of four Seasons in one day of chilly wind and of sunshine and rain
The magpie he pipes in all weather and the breeding frogs sing in the drain,
A bright and sunny day in the Winter and not a rain cloud in the sky
In the State of four Seasons in one day quite typical one might say for July.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Late Winter
Why is winter late this year?
Will it come or not, I fear?
Sometime it’s cloudy, sometimes sunny,
They play hide & seek, how funny!
All of sudden it is drizzling,
Then raining, then pouring,
Rain in Winter?
The seasons are in a scatter,
Its mid winter, what happens thereafter?
I feel little bit of cold
Is winter at the threshold?
Christmas is fast approaching,
but no sign of winter,
no festive feeling,
Can’t dream of a Christmas without winter,
Or a winter without Christmas.
Can’t dream of a hot Christmas night,
Or of a Christmas that is not white
If so, no shepherd will shiver out in cold,
No Angel will sing carols new or old
Baby Jesus will not be cold in the manger
No cattle will be in the shed for warmth any longer
No winter fairy tale will be sung,
No Silver Bells will be rung,
No Santa will come on his sleigh,
No Jingle Bells will be heard on the way
Christmas and Winter both go together
They are truly made for each other.
Ode on Winter
The Whispering wind blows beside me,
And the chirping birds softly sing their song,
The living leaves of Gaia no longer we see,
As winter has come and it seeks to live long.
The tunes of winter sung by wolves,
And its liveliness’ shown by fog,
The dance of winter preformed by ghouls,
Oh winter, thy shall now have thy own synagogue.
poem by Aditya Mudbhary
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The Winter's Spring
The winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
No flowers to please--no bees to hum--
The coming spring's already come.
I never want the Christmas rose
To come before its time;
The seasons, each as God bestows,
Are simple and sublime.
I love to see the snowstorm hing;
'Tis but the winter garb of spring.
I never want the grass to bloom:
The snowstorm's best in white.
I love to see the tempest come
And love its piercing light.
The dazzled eyes that love to cling
O'er snow-white meadows sees the spring.
I love the snow, the crumpling snow
That hangs on everything,
It covers everything below
Like white dove's brooding wing,
A landscape to the aching sight,
A vast expanse of dazzling light.
It is the foliage of the woods
That winters bring--the dress,
White Easter of the year in bud,
That makes the winter Spring.
The frost and snow his posies bring,
Nature's white spurts of the spring.
poem by John Clare
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Another Arab Spring
They revel in their auburn Spring
And sing the songs of Summer's light
With wide-eyed will they oust the king
That brought them pain and Winter's plight
But will their Summer Sun prevail
Will Winter never shed a flake
I hope so, but I cannot tell
I hope so for their freedom's sake
For though I watch with joyous eyes
And see their cruelty meet its end
Another Winter could arise
By crude ambitions once again
When Green Leaves Come again
WHEN green leaves come again, my love,
When green leaves come again,--
Why put on such a cloudy face,
When green leaves come again?
'Ah, this spring will be like the last,
Of promise false and vain;
And summer die in winter's arms
Ere green leaves come again.
'So slip the seasons--and our lives;
'T is idle to complain:
But yet I sigh, I scarce know why,
When green leaves come again.'
Nay, lift up thankful eyes, my sweet!
Count equal, lost and gain:
Because, as long as the world lasts,
Green leaves will come again.
For, sure as earth lives under snows,
And Love lives under pain,
'T is good to sing with everything,
'When green leaves come again.'
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Song
Winter is icummen in,
Lhude sing Goddamm,
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
and how the wind doth ramm,
Sing: Goddamm.
Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us,
An ague hath my ham.
Freezeth river, turneth liver,
Damn you, sing: Goddamm.
Goddamm, Goddamm, 'tis why I am, Goddamm,
So 'gainst the winter's balm.
Sing goddamm, damm, sing Goddamm,
Sing goddamm, sing goddamm, DAMM.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Ancient Music
Winter is icummen in,
Lhude sing Goddamm.
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
And how the wind doth ramm!
Sing: Goddamm.
Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us,
An ague hath my ham.
Freezeth river, turneth liver,
Damn you, sing: Goddamm.
Goddamm, Goddamm, 'tis why I am, Goddamm,
So 'gainst the winter's balm.
Sing goddamm, damm, sing Goddamm.
Sing goddamm, sing goddamm, DAMM.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Sing To Me
Sing to me! Something of sunlight and bloom,
I am so compassed with sorrow and gloom,
I am so sick with the world’s noisse and strife, -
Sing of the beauty and brightness of life –
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing to me! Something that’s jubilant, glad!
I am so weary, my soul so sad.
All my earth riches are covered with rust,
All my bright dreams are but ashes and dust.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing og the blossoms that open in spring,
How the sweet flowers blow, and the long lichens cling,
Say, though the winter is round about me,
There are bright summers and springs yet to be.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing me a song full of hope and of truth,
Brimming with all the sweet fancies of youth!
Say, though my sorrow I may not forget,
I have not quite done with happiness yet.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Lay your soft fingers just here, on my cheek;
Turn the light lower – there- no, do not speak,
But sing! My heart thrills at your beautiful voice;
Sing till I turn from my grief and rejoice.
Sing to me, sing to me!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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After A Long Winter
After a long winter
The trees begin to sing
Their warm tenors springing to every frozen crevace
The light glows
Illuminating the shadowed face of darknesss
The air moves
Freeing the breath of the pastures and
hills, which then whisper in speculation:
'Sunshine's smile does come my friends,
and a cruel callous winter makes for a balmier summer'
After a long winter a new hope dawns
A horizon awakes from restful slumber
Bringing joy and happiness to all who care to feel it's loving rays
poem by Lillian P.k
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The Seasons Are Like You
The seasons are like you
Flowers bloom humming birds come home everything
Changes but not you you stay the same they must
Leave and you will stay cause you are my winter
Spring summer and fall you stay with me through
The seasons cause you are my winter spring summer
And fall stay with me you have the eyes of winter
The face of spring the body of summer the hair of
Fall because you are like winter cool and calm you
Are like spring beautiful and blossoming you are
Like summer warm and caring you are like fall
Gentle and long lasting cause you are like winter spring
Summer and fall you are my seasons without you I
Am nothing do not leave me I need you careing stay
Please I need you
this is dedicated to savannah
poem by Tucker Lane
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Tampa Robins
The robin laughed in the orange-tree:
"Ho, windy North, a fig for thee:
While breasts are red and wings are bold
And green trees wave us globes of gold,
Time's scythe shall reap but bliss for me
-- Sunlight, song, and the orange-tree.
Burn, golden globes in leafy sky,
My orange-planets: crimson I
Will shine and shoot among the spheres
(Blithe meteor that no mortal fears)
And thrid the heavenly orange-tree
With orbits bright of minstrelsy.
If that I hate wild winter's spite --
The gibbet trees, the world in white,
The sky but gray wind over a grave --
Why should I ache, the season's slave?
I'll sing from the top of the orange-tree
`Gramercy, winter's tyranny.'
I'll south with the sun, and keep my clime;
My wing is king of the summer-time;
My breast to the sun his torch shall hold;
And I'll call down through the green and gold
`Time, take thy scythe, reap bliss for me,
Bestir thee under the orange-tree.'"
poem by Sidney Lanier
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Whispers of trees
Trees whisper of the coming winter
Leaves mutter among themselves
Seasons silently steal upon us…
As Falling streams from rocky shelves
Soft sibilant sighs, indistinct…incoherent
Nature’s voices, spoken through the dells
It’s the trees whisper… of the coming winter
The voices of Trolls, faeries and elves
Branches freeing…captive leaves fleeing
Limbs bleakly waving…in poignant farewell
Listen closely! …to the trees soft whisper
Of places of mystery…where legends dwell
Trees whisper the coming winter
Voices elusive…secretive as well
Hear the murmur of the wooded heart…
muted tumble of an acorn shell
Trees whisper…coming winter…
Tales that only trees can tell
poem by David Whalen
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