En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Silver Frosty Leaves (from Minutes of Falling Days)

Sweet love of dreams and morning's blossoms white
That from twilight comes in to its bloom
With some spear of gleams from bluish starry night
Conquer of the winter in gray and gloom

Life's glimmer and silver frosty leaves
Show their ways when darkness again comes
Each their dream and longings that retrieves
When tone down in palpable deep winter hums

The morning of shadowed silvery moon
Ice on the river in mirroring hold
Yesterday’s retention - in memory
Flowers of winter in their midnight noon
Hallucinations of chill that now fold
Like decorations on every tree

poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The starry three sisters

The starry three sisters
are rising overhead
and the hot day
is dead.

The winter night chills
and spreads ripe,
over grass and plants.

There’s a playful
charm to the icy wind,
that stir some fallen leaves.

Your smile
has its own warmth
and the taste of your lips,
are sweet and soft.

Your eyes has a glimmer
that sparks to the soul
and where love burns,
no winter can chill.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Vincent

starry starry night
paint your palette blue and gray
look out on a summer's day
with eyes that know the darkness in my soul
shadows on the hill
sketch the trees and daffodils
catch the breeze and the winter chills
in colors on the snowy linen land
now i understand
what you tried to say to me
and how you suffered you sanity
and how you tried to set them free
they would not listen they did not know how
perhaps they'll listen now
starry starry night
flaming flowers that brightly blaze
swirling clouds in violet haze
reflect in vincent's eyes of china blue
colors changing hue
morning fields of amber grain
weathered faces lined in pain
are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand
now i understand
what you tried to say to me
they did not listen they did not know how
perhaps they'll listen now
starry starry night

song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dreams Dreams Dreams

I dream of you, dreaming of me
In thy imagination, lovely and free

Astray on a unimaginable path
Where me and you are all we hath

Dreaming of dreams that should be
The mind of you to bind with me

In my dreams its thou I see
I see thou with my harmony

Dreams, Dreams, Dreams
Gleams, Gleams, Gleams

Gleams of you and gleams of me
In dreams of you in dreams of me

The gleams that hope
The gleams that elope

You to me and me to you
In dreams, dreams come true!

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Cruel Winds of Winter

Got up this morning, no sun in my eyes,
The house is so cold, no warmth to the fire,
My love is gone, he took all my desire,
And cruel winds of winter howled all night.

My love could warm me in the coldest time,
Bring the light of day to the darkest night,
As tears of my sorrow fall from my eyes,
The cruel winds of winter cry in delight.

Pull on my coat, keep the chill from my side,
I walk by the sea, the salt stings my eye,
The caps are all gray, like clouds in the sky,
And with those cruel winds of winter, I cry.

As tears of my sorrow fall to the sand,
My love is not here to warn my cold hand,
He’s gone like the sun from this harsh, gray land,
And only the wind seems to understand.

This endless winter has replaced his light,
My sweet love gone, no warmth in my sight,
I drift lost and lonely, no sleep I find,
Still those winds cry with me deep in the night.

My heart so heavy, life has no delight,
And the cruel winds of winter, torment my night.

poem by Teresa Dearing
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Invitation to Love

Come when the nights are bright with stars
Or when the moon is mellow;
Come when the sun his golden bars
Drops on the hay-field yellow.
Come in the twilight soft and gray,
Come in the night or come in the day,
Come, O love, whene'er you may,
And you are welcome, welcome.

You are sweet, O Love, dear Love,
You are soft as the nesting dove.
Come to my heart and bring it rest
As the bird flies home to its welcome nest.

Come when my heart is full of grief
Or when my heart is merry;
Come with the falling of the leaf
Or with the redd'ning cherry.
Come when the year's first blossom blows,
Come when the summer gleams and glows,
Come with the winter's drifting snows,
And you are welcome, welcome.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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In The Night (Shine On)

Beauty in the setting sun
is what you are
when the day is done
where dreams have just begun
in the night you glimmer
and heaven is not too far

I see your eyes
sparkle like twilight
starlight in the night
moonbeams shining in your hair
a face so true and fair

Your lips sweet like wine
pretty as a desert flower
like an endless moment in time
in the night you shimmer

And in the morning dawn
when the day is shining bright
the sound of silence dies
you will still shine on
(spiritwind-2009)

poem by Spiritwind Wood
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Vincent

Starry, starry night:
Paint your palette blue and gray.
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills.
Sketch the trees and the daffodils;
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land.
Now i understand
What you tried to say to me,
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen; they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.
Starry, starry night:
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze;
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in vincent's eyes of china blue.
Colors changing hue:
Morning fields of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.
Now i understand
What you tried to say to me,
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen; they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.
For they could not love you
But still, your love was true.
And when no hope was left inside
On that starry, starry night
You took your life as lovers often do.
But i could've told you, vincent:
This world was never meant
For one as beautiful as you.
Starry, starry night:
Portraits hung in empty halls:
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget;
Like the strangers that you've met:
The ragged men in ragged clothes.
The silver thorn, a bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Now i think i know
What you tried to say to me,
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen; they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will.

song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vincent

Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summers day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul...
Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land.
Now I understand
What you tried to say, to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free:
They would not listen; they did not know how --
Perhaps theyll listen now.
Starry, starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and cant forget
Like the strangers that youve met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn, a bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Now I think I know
What you tried to say, to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free:
They would not listen; theyre not listening still --
Perhaps they never will.
For they could not love you
But still, your love was true
And when no hope was left inside
On that starry, starry night
You took your life as lovers often do --
But I couldve told you, vincent:
This world was never meant
For one as beautiful as you.

song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blossoms and My Love

The unusual winter warmth,
Has brought the spring fever in the nature and in my heart,
The pink, purple and white blossoms are blooming all around,
just reminding me of your warm and sensuous loving heart.

How can I compare your beauty with the spring blossoms?
In red blossoms, I see your luscious red lips,
In white blossoms, I see your beautiful body,
The purple blossoms, reminds me of the depth of your eyes,

Closer I get to the blossoms,
closer I get to the God's intricate creation,
Closer I get to your loving affection,
closer I watch the heavenly smiles on your lips.

Under the blossoming tree I walk,
the fragrance fills my love yearning heart,
When I hug you with my sincere love,
your sweet 'I love you' words, fills me with eternal love.

poem by Jay P Narain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Most Beautiful Songs of the Year

The most beautiful songs of the year
Are around the Christmas time
When love's true love and sparking here
In winter's cold frosty prime
When love is so dear to everyone
In giving its heart away
And feelings come close one by one
To make up anew and brighter day

The most heartfelt reasons to be alive
Is when there is joy here found
Bells are ringing and Christmas arrive
With harmonious choruses around
When people are close and in peace
And singing their sweet melodies
Dancing around the Christmas tress
Far from every wars tragedies

The most beautiful songs we sing
Are the ones that give us dreams
And hope again to our hearts bring
Like star rays of faraway gleams
When people are close and in peace
And singing their sweet melodies
Dancing around the Christmas tress
Far from every wars tragedies

When you and I are all standing close
Through Christmas evening and night
And the starry starry high sky glows
With the stars of heaven so bright
When loves is for you and love is for me
And everything comes to be alright
And we shall be singing in sweet harmony
Through the evening of Christmas light

poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let Them Go

Let the dream go. Are there not other dreams
In vastness of clouds hid from thy sight
That yet shall gild with beautiful gold gleams,
And shoot the shadows through and through with light?
What matters one lost vision of the night?
Let the dream go!!

Let the hope set. Are there not other hopes
That yet shall rise like new stars in thy sky?
Not long a soul in sullen darkness gropes
Before some light is lent it from on high;
What folly to think happiness gone by!
Let the hope set!

Let the joy fade. Are there not other joys,
Like frost-bound bulbs, that yet shall start and bloom?
Severe must be the winter that destroys
The hardy roots locked in their silent tomb.
What cares the earth for her brief time of gloom
Let the joy fade!

Let the love die. Are there not other loves
As beautiful and full of sweet unrest,
Flying through space like snowy-pinioned doves?
They yet shall come and nestle in thy breast,
And thou shalt say of each, 'Lo, this is best!'
Let the love die!

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Idler's Song

I sit in the twilight dim
At the close of an idle day,
And I list to the soft sweet hymn,
That rises far away,
And dies on the evening air.
Oh, all day long,
They sing their song,
Who toil in the valley there.

But never a song sing I,
Sitting with folded hands,
The hours pass me by -
Dropping their golden sands -
And I list, from day to day,
To the 'tick, tick, tock'
Of the old brown clock,
Ticking my life away.

And I see the twilight fade,
And I see the night come on,
And then, in the gloom and shade,
I weep for the day that's gone -
Weep and wail in pain,
For the misspent day
That has flown away,
And will not come again.

Another morning beams,
And I forget the last,
And I sit in idle dreams
Till the day over - past.
Oh, the toiler's heart is glad!
When the day is gone
And the night comes on,
But mine is sore and sad.

For I dare not look behind!
No shining, golden sheaves
Can I ever hope to find:
Nothing but withered leaves.
Ah! dreams are very sweet!
But will not please
If only these
I lay at the Master's feet.

And what will the Master say
To dreams and nothing more?
Oh, idler, all the day!
Think, ere thy life is o'er!
And when the day grows late,
Oh, soul of sin!
Will He let you in,
There at the pearly gate?

Oh, idle heart, beware!
On, to the field of strife!
On, to the valley there!
And live a useful life!
Up, do not wait a day!
For the old brown clock,
With its 'tick, tick, tock, '
Is ticking your life away.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Song of Yesterday

I
But yesterday
I looked away
O'er happy lands, where sunshine lay
In golden blots,
Inlaid with spots
Of shade and wild forget-me-nots.

My head was fair
With flaxen hair,
And fragrant breezes, faint and rare,
And, warm with drouth
From out the south,
Blew all my curls across my mouth.

And, cool and sweet,
My naked feet
Found dewy pathways through the wheat;
And out again
Where, down the lane,
The dust was dimpled with the rain.

II
But yesterday! --
Adream, astray,
From morning's red to evening's dray,
O'er dales and hills
Of daffodils
And lorn sweet-fluting whippoorwills.

I knew nor cares
Nor tears nor prayers --
A mortal god, crowned unawares
With sunset -- and
A scepter-wand
Of apple-blossoms in my hand!

The dewy blue
Of twilight grew
To purple, with a star or two
Whose lisping rays
Failed in the blaze
Of sudden fireflies through the haze.

III
But yesterday
I heard the lay
Of summer birds, when I, as they
With breast and wing,
All quivering
With life and love, could only sing.

My head was leant
Where, with it, blent
A maiden's, o'er her instrument;
While all the night,
From vale to height,
Was filled with echoes of delight.

And all our dreams
Were lit with gleams
Of that lost land of reedy streams,
Along whose brim
Forever swim
Pan's lilies, laughing up at him.

IV
But yesterday! . . .
O blooms of May,
And summer roses -- where away?
O stars above;
And lips of love,
And all the honeyed sweets thereof! --

O lad and lass,
And orchard pass,
And briered lane, and daisied grass!
O gleam and gloom,
And woodland bloom,
And breezy breaths of all perfume! --

No more for me
Or mine shall be
Thy raptures -- save in memory, --
No more -- no more --
Till through the Door
Of Glory gleam the days of yore.

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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A Wintery Day

The sun hidden in dark gray clouds Winter wears her shroud of gloom
But on the camellias and the magnolias the pink and white flowers bloom
And though the wind with a damp cold chill is blowing from north to south
Even in the depths of Winter Nature's beauty is about
The soft chirpings of the crimson rosellas so pleasant for to hear
Their notes do not seem to vary at any time of year
And the flute like notes of the magpie in the wooded hillside ring
In this their breeding Season at night his kind does sing
The harsh calls of the white sulphur crested cockatoos one never could mistake
One does often hear them in the wood at nightfall and daybreak
And the bubbling song of the grey butcherbird melodious and clear
Brings to the gloomy Winter's day the joy of Nature's cheer
The rain it falls in drizzles and the breeze has a cool chill
And the dampness of the Winter hangs around the wooded hill.

poem by Francis Duggan
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A Winter Song (From, Lost Song Poems)

There's outside a winter's song
With frore and grayish earth,
We had the summer for so long
For what each day was worth;
I'll long for summer and spring
Each time the night gets cold,
When weather hollowly will sing
In winter so frosty and bold.

A flower so gracefully done
The winter's rose in my window,
I'll greet you gladly on and on
Cherish your pearl white afterglow;
I've often been in a moody down
When darker the short day comes,
Then I see frosty rose jewel crown
And know in the cold it blooms.

Winter romance and candle lights
Longing for green sweet earth,
Longing for clearings sky bright
And all what the day young's worth;
How can it touch the morning flame
The winter that's gray and dark,
Will not each color be there same
Without its golden morning spark.

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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In After Years

LOVE is dying. Why then, let it die.
Trample it down, that it die more fast.
What is a rose that has lost its bloom?
What is a fruit with its freshness past?
And where is the worth of the twilight gloom?
Let the night come when the day has gone by:
Let the dying die.

Leave your useless smiles and your tears,
Weepings and wooings are, oh, so vain!
Sunlights and rains bid the blossoms blow,
But waken no waning blossom again.
Nay, but say 'It was always so;
Love was not love in the other years,
There is nought for tears.'

Say 'We lose what was never ours,
Lo, we were fooled by a fond deceit;
Because we chanced to be side by side,
Because we were young and love is sweet,
Love seemed there: but could love have died?
When has decay touched immortal hours?
Love was never ours.'

Ah, my heart, is it true? is it true?
Did all longings and fears mean no more?
Whispers and vows and the gladness mean this?
What, we grow wiser when years are o'er,
And weary in soul of a mimic bliss!
Did we but dream, hand in hand, we two?
Must it needs be true?

poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Love

I have lived, lived enough to know...
Seen and heard love...
With waving trees that I trespass
In music that touches heart...
In its full glory I have seen it in youth’s prime...
Its tenderness seen I in mother's eyes
In its tranquil and peace
In woodlands afar...
Seen it in its bloom every spring...
And its gloom hidden in winter's cloak...
I have seen love and felt its charm...
In hues of dreams velvet and gray...
In the silence after music dies, and live ever after in calm thought...
Love's divine...
Call never let go waste...
It's life of the soul...
Beauty's grace...
Master’s reflection...
You have known the infinite...
Gathered it in a belief…

poem by Lama Abbas
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Three Island Songs

AFTER the wind in the wood,
Peace, and the night.
After the bond and the brood,
Flight.
After the height and the hush
Where the wild hawk swings,
Heart of the earth-loving thrush
Shaken with wings.

After the bloom and the leaf
Rain on the nest.
After the splendour and grief,
Rest.
After the hills and the far
Glories and gleams,
Cloud, and the dawn of a star,
And dreams.

------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
O, THE gray rocks of the islands and the hemlock green above them,
The foam beneath the wild rose bloom, the star above the shoal.
When I am old and weary I'll wake my heart to love them,
For the blue ways of the islands are wound about my soul.
[Page 66]

Here in the early even when the young gray dew is falling,
And the king-heron seeks his mate beyond the loneliest wild,
Still your heart in the twilight, and you'll hear the river calling
Through all her outmost islands to seek her lastborn child.

------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
I SAT among the green leaves, and heard the nuts falling,
The broad red butterflies were gold against the sun,
But in between the silence and the sweet birds calling
The nuts fell one by one.

Why should they fall and the year but half over ?
Why should sorrow seek me and I so young and kind ?
The leaf is on the bough and the dew is on the clover,
But the green nuts are falling in the wind.

O, I gave my lips away and all my soul behind them.
Why should trouble follow and the quick tears start ?
The little birds may love and fly with only God to mind them,
But the green nuts are falling on my heart.

poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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A Song Of Riches

What will you give to a barefoot lass,
Morning with breath like wine?
Wade, bare feet! In my wide morass
Starry marigolds shine.
Alms, sweet Noon, for a barefoot lass,
With her laughing looks aglow!
Run, bare feet! In my fragrant grass
Golden buttercups blow.

Gift, a gift for a barefoot lass,
O twilight hour of dreams!
Rest, bare feet, by my lake of glass,
Where the mirrored sunset gleams.

Homeward the weary merchants pass,
With the gold bedimmed by care.
Little they wise that the barefoot lass
Is the only millionaire.

poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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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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