Peeping-happiness
PEEPING-HAPPINESS
The happiness,
came to my door,
peeped in the orchard of my life,
and then returned,
how do i call those,
in my desolate orchard,
my orchard has become desert,
the cruel autumn has come,
the laughing flowers have dried,
the pearls of eyes are flowing,
all our friends have become enemies,
what is this irony of fate?
poem by Dr. Ram Sharma
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The Rambo-Tree
When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree--
It's a long, sweet way across the orchard!--
The bird sings low as the bumble-bee--
It's a long, sweet way across the orchard!--
The poor shote-pig he says, says he:
'When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree
There's enough for you and enough for me.'--
It's a long, sweet way across the orchard.
_For just two truant lads like we_,
_When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree_
_There's enough for you and enough for me_--
_It's a long, sweet way across the orchard_.
When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree--
It's a long, sweet way across the orchard!--
The mole digs out to peep and see--
It's a long, sweet way across the orchard!--
The dusk sags down, and the moon swings free,
There's a far, lorn call, 'Pig-_gee_! 'Pig-_gee_!'
And two boys--glad enough for three.--
It's a long, sweet way across the orchard.
_For just two truant lads like we_,
_When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree_
_There's enough for you and enough for me_--
_It's a long, sweet way across the orchard_.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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I Be Or Don't Be (A Song)
I be or don’t be
Would be spreading whiff
As a blossom, As a bud
In the orchard of love
I be or don‘t be
Whatever the weather
I always will be there
To keep the orchard fresh
And in colour of desire
Will be watering it ever
As a blossom as a bud
The orchard of love
I be or don’t be
I will unfurl my shirt
And sway in the breeze
Will glow like flower
On the blossom trees
Would spread fragrance
As a blossom as a bud
In the garden of love
I be or don’t be
When I won’t be there
Her eyes with tears
Would be finding me
She would stop in reverie
Where I will meet her
As a blossom, as a bud
In the orchard of love
I be or don’t be
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Orchard Road
Writers: leo sayer & alan tarney
To tell the truth its really such a sad affair
Standing here waiting in the cold night air
But Ive got to make this call
cause my heart is breaking.
I hear the bips drop a coin in the slot
Has it been that long
I thought youd forgotten me
Well I know that its getting late
But I just couldnt wait
Will I have the nerve to say
I just wanna come back
You shouldnt just go away
I just wanna come back
Ive been struck by such a bad luck
I need a place a little happiness and some love
I think I can see it now
Now let me paint the picture
Its twelve oclock and the curtains are drawn
Theyre counting sheep down in orchard road
Youre hanging on the telephone line tonight
And I wish I could be in orchard road
Not much been happening here
I think Ive got a job
Theyre gonna call me next week
And Ill be working out of town
But it sure beats hanging around
Whats that? tomorrow at two
Youre kidding me -- no
Is it allright with you
I dont know what to say
Itll be like a holiday
When you say youre all alone
Makes me wanna come back
And this house is not a home
I just gotta go back
Its twelve ten when I put down the phone
The moons shining down on orchard road
And Im feeling like a schoolboy again and tonight
Ill see you in my dreams of orchard road
Its funny but I thought Id never go back
I think sometimes I might loose track
But I remember you and the things we do
And I want it back.
In orchard road youve got my heart
I left it in your doorway
In orchard road a welcome back
Is waiting there just for me
In orchard road the sun will shine
Again I know I know
In orchard road you keep my love
Just waiting there for me
Its eight oclock and the dawns arrived
In orchard road its breakfast time
I climb in my car and I turn the key and Im gone
I am coming home
To orchard road
Im coming home
song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where The Children Used To Play
The old farm-home is Mother's yet and mine,
And filled it is with plenty and to spare--,
But we are lonely here in life's decline,
Though fortune smiles around us everywhere:
We look across the gold
Of the harvests, as of old--
The corn, the fragrant clover, and the hay;
But most we turn our gaze,
As with eyes of other days,
To the orchard where the children used to play.
O from our life's full measure
And rich hoard of worldly treasure
We often turn our weary eyes away,
And hand in hand we wander
Down the old path winding yonder
To the orchard where the children used to play.
Our sloping pasture-lands are filled with herds;
The barn and granary-bins are bulging o'ver;
The grove's a paradise of singing birds--
The woodland brook leaps laughing by the door;
Yet lonely, lonely still,
Let us prosper as we will,
Our old hearts seem so empty everyway--
We can only through a mist
See the faces we have kissed
In the orchard where the children used to play.
O from our life's full measure
And rich hoard of worldly treasure
We often turn our weary eyes away,
And hand in hand we wander
Down the old path winding yonder
To the orchard where the children used to play.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Jonathan Houghton
There is the caw of a crow,
And the hesitant song of a thrush.
There is the tinkle of a cowbell far away,
And the voice of a plowman on Shipley's hill.
The forest beyond the orchard is still
With midsummer stillness;
And along the road a wagon chuckles,
Loaded with corn, going to Atterbury.
And an old man sits under a tree asleep,
And an old woman crosses the road,
Coming from the orchard with a bucket of blackberries.
And a boy lies in the grass
Near the feet of the old man,
And looks up at the sailing clouds,
And longs, and longs, and longs
For what, he knows not:
For manhood, for life, for the unknown world!
Then thirty years passed,
And the boy returned worn out by life
And found the orchard vanished,
And the forest gone,
And the house made over,
And the roadway filled with dust from automobiles --
And himself desiring The Hill!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Good-bye, and Keep Cold
This saying good-bye on the edge of the dark
And cold to an orchard so young in the bark
Reminds me of all that can happen to harm
An orchard away at the end of the farm
All winter, cut off by a hill from the house.
I don't want it girdled by rabbit and mouse,
I don't want it dreamily nibbled for browse
By deer, and I don't want it budded by grouse.
(If certain it wouldn't be idle to call
I'd summon grouse, rabbit, and deer to the wall
And warn them away with a stick for a gun.)
I don't want it stirred by the heat of the sun.
(We made it secure against being, I hope,
By setting it out on a northerly slope.)
No orchard's the worse for the wintriest storm;
But one thing about it, it mustn't get warm.
"How often already you've had to be told,
Keep cold, young orchard. Good-bye and keep cold.
Dread fifty above more than fifty below."
I have to be gone for a season or so.
My business awhile is with different trees,
Less carefully nourished, less fruitful than these,
And such as is done to their wood with an axe--
Maples and birches and tamaracks.
I wish I could promise to lie in the night
And think of an orchard's arboreal plight
When slowly (and nobody comes with a light)
Its heart sinks lower under the sod.
But something has to be left to God.
poem by Robert Frost
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The Little Tree
A very faithful farmer,
Planted a small seed,
Where in a distant field,
It grew into a tree.
This tree had leaves of laughter,
As it rustled in the wind,
Its sound of many whispers,
Were voices of many friends.
Its branches were far reaching,
Its limbs, like little hands,
That touched the lives of many,
As it grew upon the land.
Its flowers bloomed in sunshine,
-They were countless little smiles,
That offered joy to others,
If but only for a while.
For the Farmer who was helping,
His little tree grow tall,
Knew of a better orchard,
The best one of them all.
Se he placed His hands around the tree,
And lifted it with care,
He took it to an orchard,
Where He himself was near.
The tree had all the sunshine,
Its leaves were there to stay,
Its flowers bloomed in happiness,
Every single day.
The Farmer loved the little tree,
Far more than people knew,
Now it lives forever,
In our hearts and Heaven too.
-In loving memory of Charles McMichael
poem by Jean Penner
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My earliest memory is dreamlike: in a small orchard or garden I am carried on the arm, I believe, of my father; there was a group of grown-ups, my mother among them, and the group was slowly walking in the orchard, it seems toward the house.
quote by Immanuel Velikovsky
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of An Orchard
Good is an Orchard, the Saint saith,
To meditate on life and death,
With a cool well, a hive of bees,
A hermit's grot below the trees.
Good is an Orchard: very good,
Though one should wear no monkish hood.
Right good, when Spring awakes her flute,
And good in yellowing time of fruit.
Very good in the grass to lie
And see the network 'gainst the sky,
A living lace of blue and green,
And boughs that let the gold between.
The bees are types of souls that dwell
With honey in a quiet cell;
The ripe fruit figures goldenly
The soul's perfection in God's eye.
Prayer and praise in a country home,
Honey and fruit: a man might come,
Fed on such meats, to walk abroad,
And in his Orchard talk with God.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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A Song
Steal from the meadows, rob the tall green hills,
Ravish my orchard's blossoms, let me bind
A crown of orchard flowers and daffodils,
Because my love is fair and white and kind.
To-day the thrush has trilled her daintiest phrases,
Flowers with their incense have made drunk the air,
God has bent down to gild the hearts of daisies,
Because my love is kind and white and fair.
To-day the sun has kissed the rose-tree's daughter,
And sad Narcissus, Spring's pale acolyte,
Hangs down his head and smiles into the water,
Because my love is kind and fair and white.
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
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Happiness Is
Happiness is like,
A river flowing down from heaven.
Happiness is like,
A brook that has the sound of peace.
Happiness is like,
A bunch of flowers in a meadow.
Happiness is like,
A dove souring through the sky.
Happiness is,
Being nice to an enemy even when it is hard.
Happiness is,
A box of chocolates on Valentine's Day.
poem by Natasha Norville
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Signs Of Winter
The cat runs races with her tail. The dog
Leaps oer the orchard hedge and knarls the grass.
The swine run round and grunt and play with straw,
Snatching out hasty mouthfuls from the stack.
Sudden upon the elmtree tops the crow
Unceremonious visit pays and croaks,
Then swops away. From mossy barn the owl
Bobs hasty out--wheels round and, scared as soon,
As hastily retires. The ducks grow wild
And from the muddy pond fly up and wheel
A circle round the village and soon, tired,
Plunge in the pond again. The maids in haste
Snatch from the orchard hedge the mizzled clothes
And laughing hurry in to keep them dry.
poem by John Clare
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The Orchard Lands Of Long Ago
The orchard lands of Long Ago!
O drowsy winds, awake, and blow
The snowy blossoms back to me,
And all the buds that used to be!
Blow back along the grassy ways
Of truant feet, and lift the haze
Of happy summer from the trees
That trail their tresses in the seas
Of grain that float and overflow
The orchard lands of Long Ago!
Blow back the melody that slips
In lazy laughter from the lips
That marvel much if any kiss
Is sweeter than the apple's is.
Blow back the twitter of the birds--
The lisp, the titter, and the words
Of merriment that found the shine
Of summer-time a glorious wine
That drenched the leaves that loved it so,
In orchard lands of Long Ago!
O memory! alight and sing
Where rosy-bellied pippins cling,
And golden russets glint and gleam,
As, in the old Arabian dream,
The fruits of that enchanted tree
The glad Aladdin robbed for me!
And, drowsy winds, awake and fan
My blood as when it overran
A heart ripe as the apples grow
In orchard lands of Long Ago!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Happiness Is
Happiness is like a river flowing down from heven.
Happiness is like a brook that has the sound of peace.
Happiness is like a bunch of flowers in a medow.
Happiness is like a dove souring through the sky.
Happiness is being nice to an enemy even when it is hard.
Happiness is a box of chocolates on Valintines Day.
Writen on May 19,2004
poem by Athena Goddess of Wisdom Lumis Light to all
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What Happiness Is
happiness
is bliss
happiness,
is when you get a new puppy
happiness,
is when you get married
happiness,
is when you go on you first date
happiness,
is making your own decisions
happiness,
is graduating
happiness,
is getting you first job
happiness,
is falling in love
happiness
is being proud of who you are
happiness
is bliss
happiness,
is glowing
happiness,
is fun
happiness,
is an amazing feeling
happiness,
is when you smile all day
happiness,
is giving someone a hug just because you can
happiness,
is that light in your eyes
happiness,
is what makes the world go around
happiness,
is bliss
Yvonne of Brittany
In your mother's apple-orchard,
Just a year ago, last spring:
Do you remember, Yvonne!
The dear trees lavishing
Rain of their starry blossoms
To make you a coronet?
Do you ever remember, Yvonne,
As I remember yet?
In your mother's apple-orchard,
When the world was left behind:
You were shy, so shy, Yvonne!
But your eyes were calm and kind.
We spoke of the apple harvest,
When the cider press is set,
And such-like trifles, Yvonne,
That doubtless you forget.
In the still, soft Breton twilight,
We were silent; words were few,
Till your mother came out chiding,
For the grass was bright with dew:
But I know your heart was beating,
Like a fluttered, frightened dove.
Do you ever remember, Yvonne,
That first faint flush of love?
In the fulness of midsummer,
When the apple-bloom was shed,
Oh, brave was your surrender,
Though shy the words you said.
I was glad, so glad, Yvonne!
To have led you home at last;
Do you ever remember, Yvonne,
How swiftly the days passed?
In your mother's apple-orchard
It is grown too dark to stray,
There is none to chide you, Yvonne!
You are over far away.
There is dew on your grave grass, Yvonne!
But your feet it shall not wet:
No, you never remember, Yvonne!
And I shall soon forget.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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We Could Be Married
Catching every flower-petal dream
That falls on summer lawns,
I find my childhood still alive
In the park-like innocence
Of all my thoughts.
Meet me at dawn
In the apple orchard
Beneath the blue sky.
Destiny has designed
Our mutual happiness.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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The Happiness In My Life
The last few years
Have been filled with pain
Where did my happiness go
No hugging, no kissing
Not a hand to touch
Where is the happiness in my life
A new chapter has begun
A happiness renewed
With kind words, and gentle thoughts
Shared with my friends a few
The lust and the desire
Of which now I remember
The happiness in my life
Has finally returned to me...
(October 2006)
poem by Heather Jones
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Early this morning
Early this morning
when you waked me up
I experienced your tender smell
like a garden of fresh flowers blooming
and your hot soft body were clinging to mine
and your breath was fresh like apples
in a orchard
but your eyes my love, flamed
as if being on fire
and something indescribable were
between the two of us
and some people call it love
but I know
that it was much more.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Radiating Happiness
Lovely flowers gaily bloom,
To dispel gloom
And loom
Happiness.
Beautiful birds joyously swing,
And sweetly sing,
To ring
Happiness.
The silver moon slowly peeps
Over the ocean deeps,
And seeps
Happiness.
The cool flowing water-fall,
From the mountain tall
Does install
Happiness.
So, you, the intelligent man,
In your life-span,
Do fan
Happiness!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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