To A Mountain Spring
Strange little spring, by channels past our telling,
Gentle, resistless, welling, welling, welling;
Through what blind ways, we know not whence
You darkling come to dance and dimple--
Strange little spring!
Nature hath no such innocence,
And no more secret thing--
So mysterious and so simple;
Earth hath no such fairy daughter
Of all her witchcraft shapes of water.
When all the land with summer burns,
And brazen noon rides hot and high,
And tongues are parched and grasses dry,
Still are you green and hushed with ferns,
And cool as some old sanctuary;
Still are you brimming o'er with dew
And stars that dipped their feet in you.
And I believe when none is by,
Only the young moon in the sky--
The Greeks of old were right about you--
A naiad, like a marble flower,
Lifts up her lovely shape from out you,
Swaying like a silver shower.
So in old years dead and gone
Brimmed the spring on Helicon,
Just a little spring like you--
Ferns and moss and stars and dew--
Nigh the sacred Muses' dwelling,
Dancing, dimpling, welling, welling.
poem by Richard Le Gallienne
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A Country Path in Late Spring
The path of mossy ground nestled
In between maternal hedgerows,
That overgrew atop, dimming down
The brilliance of the day.
Embosomed, a calm-cool vision –
Abstract takes of nature, in
Leaf-spattered green shades;
Stem-speckled brown hues;
Shards of sunlight percolating
Through the random flaws to
Up glittering sprites upon the leaves.
And avian chatter bounced along the burrow,
Smattered by the crosstalk
Of busybody insects;
But outside the green comfort zone,
Other worlds of other sounds of other life
Otherwise gave a hint of
Other dozy goings on.
Hawthorn filled the air,
Filled the nose,
Filled the head –
Pungency had overpowered all –
Gave the late-spring-early-summer haze.
Here and there a break of colour:
Odd bluebells – escapees from nearby woods –
Blue-blushing bell faces glancing down,
Aware of their erectness in the stem;
The flaming wing of red admirals
Broke through a hedge hole to
Break up the calm backdrop,
While flitting blue tits gave
To greater-bodied animation.
Nature’s warm narration –
The undertones of life.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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New Spring
Spring!
Spring! How beautiful is the
Spring! How wonderful is the
Spring! How majestic is the
Spring! How fantastic is the
Spring! How tantalizing is the
Spring! How glorious is the
Spring! How melodious is the
Spring! How joyful is the
Spring! How breathtaking is the
Spring! How uplifting the
Spring! How happy is the
Spring! How magnificent is the
Spring! How colorful is the
Spring! How tasteful is the
Spring! How memorable was the
Spring! How flavorful is the
Spring! How aromic is the
Spring! How sweet is
Spring! How beautiful is the
Spring!
poem by Mario Saboundjian
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The Season Of Spring
THE SEASON OF SPRING
the season of spring
weather seems to sing
lovely lovely days
are coming our ways
the season of spring
blooming blossoming
of nature of all kind
let roots unbind
the season of spring
birds unfold their wings
diving high into sky
wish one could fly
the season of spring
careful hearts love sting
reaching out towards others
some persons might bother
the season of spring
nice sound bells ring
new wave new style
faces have on a smile
the season of spring
an new awakening
busy humanity on earth
as if it’s a new birth
listen listen to my words
the season of spring is near
now a look into your lovely eyes
and one can see spring is already here
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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A Land Fit For Zeros
Hold hands with the person to your right
Hold hands and try to look sincere-o
Tell them, though you don't know their name
That you still can feel their pain
Yeah you still can feel their pain
We'll sing "Jerusalem" now boys
As we build a land fit for zeros
It's all that I can do to stop
Fake tears from welling up
Fake tears from welling up
If you thought this was your country
You can just forget it
You're too old, you're too poor
You're too posh
You'll never get in here wearing that my dear
Don't smoke, don't smack
Don't eat red meat
This is a tolerant land fit for zeros
And if you're lost just hear my call
"Mediocrity is all. Mediocrity is all"
If you thought this was your country
You can just forget it
You're too old, you're too poor
You're too posh
You'll never get in here wearing that my dear
The past is all forgotten now
This is a young, modern land
Fit for zeros
And if we fight, it's only when
We're guaranteed to win
And should you, just stray
Just hear my call
"Mediocrity is all. Mediocrity is all
song performed by by Proclaimers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Owe A Debt To Spring II
Oh, I owe a debt to spring!
She brought me wild flowers and
Hardy daffodils,
Beautiful, velvet, green carpeted hills.
She brought the mist of April showers,
With the promised bloom of May flowers.
Birds came back to sin,
Oh, I owe a debt to spring!
I see the colors of a rainbow dancing
Across the sky,
Spring came in with a lullaby.
I owe a debt to spring for the love
You bring to me, my love, to me!
I shall plant moss roses, dear spring,
To dance at your feet,
Spring time is the best time for nature's
bouquet of happiness complete...
O, I owe a debt to spring, for you, my love,
For you!
Dorothy Alves Holmes
A Poet Who Loves To Sing
poem by Dorothy Holmes
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There was a Young Lady of Welling,
Whose praise all the world was a-telling;
She played on a harp,
And caught several carp,
That accomplished Young Lady of Wel
quote by by Edward Lear
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The Indian Springs
I KNOW a shady hollow 'neath the pines,
Rich floored with velvet moss and trailing vines,
Where grouping ferns grow lusty, tall, and green,
With sipping from the bowl o'er which they lean;
And crimson berries on the margin cling,
Like drops of blood about the Indian spring.
On this same spot these many years ago
A graceful figure knelt and, bending low,
Wrist-deep in moss, one hand curved to a cup,
The water to her scarlet lips dipped up.
A heron's wing drooped from her dusky hair,
Which draped her rich-hued cheeks and shoulders bare.
Swift, stealthy footsteps took her by surprise;
She started, flushed, and met his eager eyes,—
A noble figure, young and lithe and tall,
With one proud eagle feather crowning all.
A pause, a word, and lo! the heron's wing
Brushed with the eagle's there above the spring.
Two cruel eyes gleamed from the piny shade,
Fixed on the bended heads of man and maid;
Sudden, a gray goose feather with a twang
Of hate and envy from the darkness sprang.
One shrilling cry—the heron wing was fled;
Low lay the eagle plume; the spring ran red.
The years have gone; new mosses veil the ground,
New ferns, new vines:—but here the spring I found,
And here the gray goose shalt its story told,—
A heart of flint 'neath moss and years of mold
And vines to which the blood-red berries cling,
I found an arrow by the Indian spring.
poem by Abbie Farwell Brown from The New England Magazine / Volume 22, Issue 4 (1897)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Spring Is Here
(rodgers & hart)
Once there was a thing called spring
When the world was writing
Verses like yours and mine
All the boys and girls would sing
As we sat at little tables and drank may wine
Now april, may and june
Seem sadly out of tune
Life has stuck a pin in the balloon
Spring is here, why doesnt my heart go dancing
Spring is here, why isnt the waltz entrancing
No desire, no ambition leads me
Maybe its because nobody needs me
Spring is here, why doesnt the breeze delight me
Stars appear, why doesnt the night invite me
Maybe its because nobody loves me
Spring is here
Spring is here
Spring is here
I hear
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I like being in new places and seeing new sights.
quote by Tom Welling
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life Is Lovely All the Year
When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!
Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!
In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.
Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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You throw yourself out there and you've got to figure some things out on your own. You've got a million people telling you different things, but you really have to find the truth in yourself.
Tom Welling in Cinescape (November 2001)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn Leaves
I still hearken a little deep
from the rolled out time
the last song of cuckoo
humming through the hot winds.
The scents of last spring-flower
still drift through
my dried up nasal lanes.
Today walking silently
over the crackling autumn leaves
I rue for the withered
bed of roses that once paved my way
towards a breathing heaven of verve.
The parched earth and naked trees
stand before me
like fossils
of the deceased last spring.
The desiccated bed
of my garden-pond
it seems,
has no tears to shed
at her robbed off
once brimming water wealth.
Where are those bunnies
and little squirrels that sprinted,
rollicked and rocked
over my grassy lawn?
Where's grass?
Where's lawn?
Under the searing Sun
where are smiles, glee, bliss and prank?
The dead autumn leaves
under my feet
whispered in husky, crackling tones
the secret of seasons:
"We're dead...interred we reach soon
our mother roots' bed.
We'll sprout again
as leaves tender, sleek and charming...
no death to us...
no dearth
for green-green wealth.
Every autumn is followed
by a new spring.
poem by Sathya Narayana
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The idea of a perfect vacation is not working or not having to work and having no appointments.
quote by Tom Welling
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Spring Is Here
Once there was a thing called spring
When the world was writing verses like yours and mine,
All the lads and girls would sing
When we sat at little tables and drank may wine.
Now april, may and june
Are sadly out of tune
Life has stuck a pin in the boat.
Spring is here
Why doesnt my heart go dancing?
Spring is here
Why isnt the waltz entrancing?
No desire,
No ambition leads me
Maybe its because nobody needs me
Spring is here
Why doesnt the breeze delight me?
Stars appear
Why doesnt the night invite me?
Maybe its because nobody loves me
Spring is here, I hear
Maybe its because nobody loves me
Spring is here, I hear
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Wind I Used to Hear it Swelling
That wind I used to hear it swelling
With joy divinely deep
You might have seen my hot tears welling
But rapture made me weep
I used to love on winter nights
To lie and dream alone
Of all the hopes and real delights
My early years had known
And oh above the rest of those
That coming time should [bear]
Like heaven's own glorious stars they rose
Still beaming bright and fair
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
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Spring Did Come.
Spring did come,
On butterfly's wings.
On a flitting bird,
And the song it sings.
Spring did come,
When the flowers bloomed,
When it filled the air
With a sweet purfume.
Spring did come,
On the morning's breeze.
Spring did come,
On budding leaves.
Spring did come,
On blades of dew.
Spring did come,
In skies of blue.
Spring did come,
With a joyous ring.
Spring did come...
Welcome, Spring!
poem by Macy Dvirnak
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Oh When Will Autumn Moon and Spring Flowers End
Spring flower autumn moon what time finish?
Past events know so many
Small tower last night again east wind
Old country cot bear recollect moon bright at
Carve balustrade marble steps must still remain
Simply red face change
For gentleman can be how much sorrow?
Just like a river spring water to east flow
Oh when will autumn moon and spring flowers end?
How many past events I've known.
The east wind buffeted my room again last night,
I cannot bear to remember the bright moon of the old country.
The marble steps and carved balustrades must still be there,
The people's rosy cheeks are all that's changed.
How much sorrow can one man have to bear?
As much as a river of spring water flowing east.
Port Fairy In Spring
In Port Fairy by the ocean nesting birds chirp and sing
On a sunny day in early September in the early Spring
In a lovely old place on a beautiful day
The Spring is in town for her annual three months stay
In the home gardens and parklands shrubs and trees and flower beds in their flowers
And the coastal lands green after recent Spring showers
In Victoria Spring is such a lovely time of the year
And with each passing day warmer weather is near
The mud nesting magpie larks call out pee wee all day
From Utopia Port Fairy does not seem far away
Near Griffith Island one can hear the ocean's loud din
As the big waves at high tide to the beach rumbles in
In the old coastal town for it's beauty well known
Port Fairy it does have a charm of it's own.
poem by Francis Duggan
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O You Beautiful Flower
O you beautiful flower
Of pinkish and white
Earth blossoming shower
In spring’s new light
Ground is your embrace
With the sun radiance
Each bud is of grace
And splendor appearance
Light wind singing bell
Will swing your sprout
Like a sway carrousel
In its movement about
A dance of new spring
In meadows of green
To ground now sing
Of budding fresh scene
Rose-tinted so fine
Under blueness of sky
Your growth in sunshine
Now mounting so high
O you beautiful flower
Of pinkish and white
Earth sweetest endower
And spring’s delight
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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In a Lecture Room
AWAY, haunt thou me not,
Thou vain Philosophy!
Little hast thou bestead,
Save to perplex the head,
And leave the spirit dead.
Unto thy broken cisterns wherefore go,
While from the secret treasure-depths below,
Fed by the skyey shower,
And clouds that sink and rest on hilltops high,
Wisdom at once, and Power,
Are welling, bubbling forth, unseen, incessantly?
Why labor at the dull mechanic oar,
When the fresh breeze is blowing,
And the strong current flowing,
Right onward to the Eternal Shore
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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