Related quotes: The sky is dark now...

Moon Shining Over The London Bridge

The sky is dark now
And the night is here again
But there is a moon shining over the London Bridge right over the sky
And I keep watching that moon while I rest for a while at the Thames River
But I can't take my eyes of the moon that is shining over the London Bridge right over the sky because it is beautiful to see
And at the same time it is getting late now but I don't mind at all because I Rather stay all night at The Thames river watching the moon shining over The London Bridge right over the sky
Yes the Big Ben chined midnight now and London is going to sleep
But I am falling asleep now at The Thames river below the naked three That is there at the Thanes River
Also all the buildings near The Thames river have their lights out
And I am sleeping in totall darkness and at the same time enjoying the Peace and quiet of the Thames river during the night
But near the Thames River is always cold and I don't mind at all Because I am dressed for this kind of weather
But this night at the Thames River I will always remember because it Will be the best sleep I ever had in years

poem by Aldo Kraas
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Related quotes

Thames! Beautiful Thames!

Thames! Beautiful Thames!
Thames River arises at Gloucestershire,
flows thro' London, the capital of U.K;

Thames River is tidal in London
With a rise and fall of 7 meters,
The river is fed by more than 20 tributaries;

The Thames River which flows alongside
several other towns and cities -
Oxford, Reading, Henley-on-Thames,
Windsor, Kingston upon Thames and Richmond -
is beautiful;

Thames River has a total length of 215 mile,
River banks on either side are beautiful,
Pavement strolling stretch on either side
is beautiful;

Boats sailing in Thames river are beautiful,
Young women who sail in the boats are beautiful,
White swan pairs' which swim in the river are beautiful;

Watching swans from the bridge,
- which spans Reading and Caversham -
somersaulting to catch the fish
is still more exciting and beautiful!
Thames! Beautiful Thames!

poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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Watching Swans From Caversham Bridge

Thames! Beautiful Thames! !
Thames flows through London
Thames is tidal With a rise and fall
of 7 meters in London;

Thames flows through 'Reading'
And its banks are beautiful,
Pavement strolling stretch on either side
is beautiful;

Boats sailing in Thames
Young women who sail in the boats
White swan pairs' which swim in the river
are beautiful;

Watching from Caversham bridge,
somersaulting swans catching the fish
is still more exciting!
Thames! Beautiful Thames! !

poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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English Names on Canadian Thames

England hath given us the names
To adorn Canadian Thames,
And charms to them she hath lent,
In Oxford, Middlesex and Kent.
She Essex kisseth in her mouth,
And Scottish names, one north, one south ;
And London now she justly claims
She's capital of vale of Thames,
And her strong castellated tower .
Doth on the river frowning lower ;
And Chatham is the river's port,
There slaves for freedom did resort,
And they did industrious toil
And now many own the soil.
Stratford, now, shall be our theme,
On Avon, tributary stream,
And its clear waters it doth launch
Into the Thames, northern branch.
Near that substantial stone town,
St. Mary's, with mills of renown.

Some imagine the Thames is too insignificant a stream
to be sung in verse.' Distance lends enchantment to
the view. and they fancy the old Scottish rivers are
more worthy of song ; but many of them are polluted of
late years with vile odors from factories ; and, as the
county of Oxford is agreeably diversified with hills
and dales, the clear, sparkling stream, flowing over a
pebbly bottom, is indeed 'a thing of beauty and a joy forever.'

poem by James McIntyre
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London West

While the Thames meanders gently through the green pasture
fields of Ingersoll, a pleasing picture to behold, how dif-
ferent, alas, is the feeling in London West, where the
river is an object of dread and terror, neither pleasing to
the eye or nostrils. As we have been living for the last
quarter of a century on the edge of one of the tributary
streams of the Thames and were once o'erwhelmed with
ruin dire by a number of the dams giving way, we can
sympathise with them. They are now built strong and
substantial, and the ponds are an ornament to the town,
as well as a source of wealth. The Caledonian Society,
of Ingersoll, donated $50 to the flood sufferers.

The citizens of London West
Their patience oft is put to test
When they behold the various dams
Do cause the floods and the ice jams.
'Tis true that fiercer rages floods
Since country it was stript of woods,
Acid river it doth broader spread
With numerous tile drains quicker fed.
If they did raise embankment high
They might the raging floods defy.
Shall they with sadness gaze ever,
Or with gladness on the river?
River with dams it will not wed,
It wants no strangers in its bed,
And 'gainst them it will rage and fret
for 'tis no gentle rivulet.

poem by James McIntyre
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London

London, a silhouette of old and new buildings,
some, still with winding staircases,
dark dismal cellars and dusty attics.
Sky scrapers, office blocks,
chic cottages and town houses
in, tiny, back street lanes
where I seldom wander

The London Eye revolves in the sky line,
spying on us, ogling the City,
that old river Thames,
with its river boats, old ships,
odd ships and the Houses of Parliament,
offices, where we, the peasants
may only look through the glass.

As a child I truly believed
that one day, I'd go into every building,
curiosity my forte, but of course,
there are too many, mostly private,
barred from my prying eyes,
except for some Castles, the Palace,
the Tower and its dungeons.

These are the buildings of London,
with its art galleries, theatres,
churches and museums.
No doubt some are haunted,
their ghosts still walking
within their walls,
at dusk, when shadows fall.

poem by Ruth Walters
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On Westminster Bridge.

Fay looked down
at the River Thames
from Westminster Bridge

and you stood next to her
watching the boats
go under the bridge

and disappear from view
and she said
my dad said he'd take me

on one of those boats
and out to sea
but he never has

you looked sideways at her
taking in her blonde hair
and her blue eyes

and the way the wind
touched her hair
and made her dress

move about her legs
I've been on boats
on the river before

you said
making conversation
not seeking to impress

or boast
I like the chugging sound
of the boat

you added
Fay touched
the edge of the bridge

where she stood
and said
this bridge was built in 1862

I heard about it in class
Miss Ash told us about it
oh yes she

with her massive shoulders
and arms and big breasts
you said

and Fay laughed
and blushed slightly
God knows what my dad'd say

if he heard you say that
and me laughing
she said

looking at you
and shyly smiling
probably give me

what's for
she uttered quieter
ceasing to smile

her eyes taking on
a dark gaze
looking out

at the river again
you've got to have a laugh
now and then

haven't you
you said
wanting to put

an arm about her
but not doing so
just putting a hand

next to hers
on the bridge top
feeling the cold stone

wanting to feel her flesh
soft and warm
suppose so

she said softly
her fingers close to yours
almost touching

you moved your hand
closer across the stone
crablike and touched

her small finger with yours
she breathed in the air
and so did you

and she said
oh to be in London
and out of doors.

poem by Terry Collett
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The Themes

This river is more than just water
This river is in every building, every stone every mortar
This river is an emotion not to be summed up in words
Only to be felt by those who have seen the life it holds
This river is the stars that shine off its suffice at night
The twinkling of an everlasting light
A show of strength, a show of might
A show that only the river can be right
For millions of years London has changed
But only one thing has ever been sustained
It kept the city moving so its never the same
That's why London owes its life to this ever pumping vein

poem by William Cheesman
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In Valleys of Springs and Rivers

"Clunton and Clunbury,
Clungunford and Clun,
Are the quietest places
Under the sun."

In valleys of springs and rivers,
By Ony and Teme and Clun,
The country for easy livers,
The quietest under the sun,

We still had sorrows to lighten,
One could not be always glad,
And lads knew trouble at Knighton
When I was a Knighton lad.

By bridges that Thames runs under,
In London, the town built ill,
'Tis sure small matter for wonder
If sorrow is with one still.

And if as a lad grows older
The troubles he bears are more,
He carries his griefs on a shoulder
That handselled them long before.

Where shall one halt to deliver
This luggage I'd lief set down?
Not Thames, not Teme is the river,
Nor London nor Knighton the town:

'Tis a long way further than Knighton,
A quieter place than Clun,
Where doomsday may thunder and lighten
And little 'twill matter to one.

poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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Bottle-nosed whale of river Thames

Bottle-nosed whale of river Thames
It seems at last you have found fame
In your pitiful plight
Spectators can't wait to catch a glimpse
Of your pitiful sight

But bottle-nosed whale is trapped
Lying low as his last energy is sapped
Frightened by surrounding noises
Disturbed by speculating voices
After swimming miles and miles upstream
Curosity has rewarded him with only broken dreams
Unlike a cat, you have but only one life it seems

Bottle-nosed whale of river Thames
I feel for you all the same
Hope you have found your peace at last

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. August

ON THE THAMES

The river Thames has many a dear delight
In summer days for souls which know not guile,
Or souls too careless of the vain world's spite
To heed its frowning while the heavens smile.
In boyhood all our pleasure was in toil,
As with bent backs we laboured at the oar;
We loved to spend our strength in the turmoil
Of speed disputed, conquered, conqueror.

But other years brought other joys. Alas!
Where is fair Rosamund, our heart's first queen,
Whose foot so lightly trod with us the grass,
Though burdened with the hundred loves of men,
At Kew, at Skindle's? But no more of this.
We still have joys, and still old Thames is green.
Still on his back we float awhile and press
His hand in hope, and call it happiness.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Where Is The River?

Where is the river?
Is it here
Or somewhere else

Where is the river?
Is it here
Or hidden under the ground

Where is the river?
Is it here
Or safe inside the cave

Where is the river?
Is it here
Or still far away

Where is the river?
Is it here
Or up above the cloud

Where is the river?
Is it here
Or out of our reach

Where is the river?
Is it here
Or trickling on the rock

Where is the river?
Is it here
Or gathering in the pool

Where is the river?
Is it here
Or down over the cliff

Where is the river?
Is it here
Or just sight of illusion

Where is the river?
Is it here
Running in your eyes

Where is the river?
Is it here
Or sudden flood in the road

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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London Dawn

Dawn comes up on London,
And night's undone.
Stars are routed
And street lamps outed.
Sodden great clouds begin sail again
Like all-night anchored galleons to the main
From careful shallows to the far-withdrawn
Wide outer seas of sky,
Sleepers above river change their pain,
Lockhart's shows lively up Blackfriars Lane
Motors dash by
With 'Mirrors', 'Mails', 'Telegraphs' what not?
South shore of Thames on London shows a blot,
And first careful coffee-stall is withdrawn.

Only the poet strolls about at ease,
Wondering what mortal thing his soul may please,
And spitting at the drains, while Paul's as ever
Is mighty and a king of sky and river,
And cares no more, Much-Father, for this one
Broke child, although a poet-born and clever,
Than any spit-kid of seven million,
Must drudge all daylight till his earnings done.
A huffier has her red sails just a quiver;
Sun's very near now and the tide's a-run.

poem by Ivor Gurney
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London By Night

As we walk along the City’s busy roads,
Ornate buildings, here and there, are a-glow.
They are bathed in a golden or silvery light;
Illuminated against the dark, star-lit night.

Across the Thames, we gaze at the skyline:
There are buildings, old and new; all designs.
Some of the buildings, we see, are really very old;
Nestling with the ‘Gherkin’ tower: new and bold.

Standing proudly, at the very centre of it all,
Is the magnificent dome of good old St Paul’s.
It is a skyline, at which, I always love to peer;
It is constantly changing, each and every year.

Tonight, dozens of dedicated joggers are out in force;
The Thames Embankment, seems the favourite course.
We see a traditional Christmas market and fun fair;
Traders in brightly decorated cabins, sell their wares.

Gifts, being sold, range from traditional to unusual:
All neatly displayed for the eager customer’s perusal.
We see people tucking into chips, and curried bratwurst;
Plus, there’s spiced mulled wine, to quench their thirst.

Fairy lights twinkle away, white and blue,
On the trees, creating such a beautiful view.
As we walk along, I hear the river swirling below;
Lights reflected in the water, make a dazzling show.

At seven o’clock, the bell of Big Ben, loudly tolls.
The air feels decidedly chilly, as the day grows old.
We wander along the river, until it gets quite late,
Then it’s time for us to leave: a time which, I hate.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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Moonlight river.

moonlight river the eyes are shineing bright.
moonlight river love her with all you might.
moonlight river the darkness is falling.
moonligh river is there such thing off morning.
moonlight river makes my head sway.
moonlight river voice off the ocean on a sand beach bay.
moonlight river i think off her night and day.
moonlight river bring her back to me today.
moonlight river the star's are shineing bright.
moonlight river she is back with such delight.
moonlight river never let her go.
moonlight river tell her i love her so.
moolight river tear's in her eye.
moonlight river why did i have to die.

poem by Neil Derek Singleton
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Old bridge knows the silent river is deep

Listening to the whispers at a late night
I try to compose a song with my lonely guitar.
Standing on an old bridge
I gaze at the calm river flows down.
And see Moon floats on the gentle waves.
I write my first few lines;
There the Moon has come down
And the old bridge knows the silent river is deep
But I cannot miss this chance and I strum with a humble plea
Do you hear my clumsy glee?

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Down On The River

Down on the river it's an easy kind of life
Everybody here's feeling fine
No need to worry or get in a hurry
Nothing to spend but time
Light up a smoke and tell a few jokes
And pass the old jug around
We're gonna get right on a Saturday night
When the sun goes down
(CHORUS)
Down on the river
Down on the river
Just some old boys making a lot of noise
Down on the river
Down on the river
Down on the river
If anyone calls, tell them we're all
Down on the river
We'll go fishing by the light of the moon
And bait them hooks by hand
And early in the morning we'll take them off the line
Fry 'em all up in a pan
We gotta get home while we still got a job
or we'll have to answer to the man
And everybody knows though we gotta go
We'll be back again
(REPEAT CHORUS)

song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O alone man on shore of river;

O alone man on shore of river;
behold thy beauty, in the way she wants to,
embrace thy dazzled eyes in yours poetic words
and run,

Night is yet to be youth; sit and sing for her,
River, Night, Moon, Dawn,
all would be here tomorrow,

O alone man on shore of river;
but she might not be!

Her village is not so far; either run or
sail in darkness of night to realize warmth of her company

O alone man on shore of river;
only do not behold thy beauty rather
feel herself in your Soul

O alone man on shore of river.

poem by Dhananjay Kumar
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Beautiful River

And he showed me a pure River of Water of Life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the Throne of God and of the Lamb." -- Rev. xxii. 1

Shall we gather at the river
Where bright angel feet have trod;
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?

CHORUS.