Quotes about joanna, page 12
Autumn Footsteps©
Crisp and crackling,
Colors abound.
Crunching and crinkling,
On Autumn's ground.
Colors surrendered
To the Earth's floor,
Autumn compelled,
Sheds her crown once more.
Colors creating footsteps,
Unique unto their own,
Like the feet that print them,
Only to one they're known.
In the quiet solitude
When no one is near,
If you close your eyes,
The rustle you can hear.
[...] Read more
poem by Joanna E. King
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Song written At Mr. Thomson’s Request
AS A KIND OF INTRODUCTION
TO HIS IRISH MELODIES.
SWEET power of song! that canst impart
To lowland swain or mountaineer
A gladness thrilling through the heart,
A joy so tender and so dear!
Sweet power! that on a foreign strand
Canst the rough soldier's bosom move
With feelings of his native land,
As gentle as an infant's love!
Sweet power! that makest youthful heads,
With thistle, leek or shamrock crowned,
Nod proudly as the carol sheds
Its spirit through the social round!
Sweet power! that cheerest the daily toil
Of cottage maid or beldame poor,
The ploughman on the furrowed soil,
Or herd-boy on the lonely moor:
Or he by bards the Shepherd hight,
[...] Read more
poem by Joanna Baillie
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Wind Is My Pillow©
The wind is my pillow upon which I lay my head,
The clouds are the down upon which I make my bed,
Together we all float in an undisturbed slumber,
Where all of the worldly woes we can disencumber.
The wind is my pillow when the day is done,
When the warmth has finished and the night's begun,
And the down around me I can enfold,
Admitting me again to that reassurance untold.
The wind is my pillow gently pushing me wide and far,
The chill of the night is blanketed by the stars,
And on we drift through a sleep of silent peace,
And once again we the chaos can release.
The wind is my pillow never knowing where I'll be,
With my eyes closed I wait to see what I will see,
Continuing to coast in a docile state of desire,
Unscathed and untouched by that which would conspire.
[...] Read more
poem by Joanna E. King
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
To my baby brother
to my baby brother on the anniversary of your birth,
to my little brother your make my world spin, my earth,
20th june 07-
As school drew to a close i ran to get to you,
On the way to the hospital, the moment becoming true,
arrival around 4pm and found mum in the room,
she looked like she was all drugged up no element of gloom,
I had to leave for home about 5 o'clock, didnt want to go,
I was so excited to be told the information written below;
Thomas
8lb 1oz
52cm
Healthy boy
7: 35pm - 20/06/2007
little did i know he would now become the most precious thing in my life,
that he would nag, moan, groan and whine at me until he had his own wife,
[...] Read more
poem by Joanna Xxx
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Lines For A Friend’s Album
LINES , in addition to the treasure
Of poesy, culled for the pleasure
Of beau and belle and gentle dame,
When seated round the evening flame,
What time the social hour is waning,
And tardy coachman guests detaining,--
A courteous friend hath bid me write
Upon her Album's pages white.
But age the easy grace hath lost
That would become such pages most,
While of a quondam rhymester's skill,
Scarce aught is extant but the will;
And sober, stinted age must use
The school-girl's worn and stale excuse,
When, long her correspondent's debtor,
The apology becomes the letter.
Apologies for those who need 'em!
An Album is a thing of freedom,
Receiving all with right good will
That fortune sends from many a quill,
[...] Read more
poem by Joanna Baillie
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Song, Poverty Parts Good Company
WHEN my o'erlay was white as the foam o' the lin,
And siller was chinkin my pouches within,
When my lambkins were bleatin on meadow an brae,
As I went to my love in new cleeding sae gay,
Kind was she, and my friends were free,
But poverty parts good company.
How swift passed the minutes and hours of delight,
When piper played cheerly, and crusie burned bright,
And linked in my hand was the maiden sae dear,
As she footed the floor in her holy-day gear!
Woe is me; and can it then be,
That poverty parts sic company?
We met at the fair, and we met at the kirk,
We met i' the sunshine, we met i' the mirk;
And the sound o'her voice, and the blinks o'her een,
The cheerin and life of my bosom hae been.
Leaves frae the tree, at Mertimass flee,
And poverty parts sweet company.
At bridal and infare, I braced me wi' pride,
The bruise I hae won, and a kiss o' the bride;
[...] Read more
poem by Joanna Baillie
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
On Memory
WRITTEN AT AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.
NO ! this is not the land of Memory,
It is not the home where she dwells,
Though her wandering, wayward votary
Is ever the thrall of her spells;
Far off were the fetters woven which bind
Still closer and closer the exile's mind!
Yet this land was the boast of minstrelsy,
Of the song of the Troubadour,
Whence Charlemagne led his chivalry
To the fields which were fought of yore;
Still the eye of Fancy may see them glance,
Gilded banner, and quivering lance!
But Memory from Fancy turns away,
She has wealth of her own to guard;
And whisperings come to her ear, which say
Sweeter things than the song of the bard:
They are solemn and low, and none can hear
The whispers which come to Memory's ear.
[...] Read more
poem by Joanna Baillie
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Gertrude, Or Fidelity Till Death
Dark lowers our fate,
And terrible the storm that gathers o'er us;
But nothing, till that latest agony
Which severs thee from nature, shall unloose
This fix'd and sacred hold. In thy dark prison-house,
In the terrific face of armed law,
Yea, on the scaffold, if it needs must be,
I never will forsake thee.
-Joanna Baillie
HER hands were clasp'd, her dark eyes rais'd,
The breeze threw back her hair;
Up to the fearful wheel she gaz'd–
All that she lov'd was there.
The night was round her clear and cold,
The holy heaven above,
Its pale stars watching to behold
The might of earthly love.
[...] Read more
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
To a Black Gin
Daughter of Eve, draw near—I would behold thee.
Good Heavens! Could ever arm of man enfold thee?
Did the same Nature that made Phryne mould thee?
Come thou to leeward; for thy balmy presence
Savoureth not a whit of mille-fleurescence:—
My nose is no insentient excrescence.
Thou art not beautiful, I tell thee plainly,
Oh! thou ungainliest of things ungainly;
Who thinks thee less than hideous doats insanely.
Most unaesthetical of things terrestrial,
Hadst thou indeed an origin celestial?—
Thy lineaments are positively bestial!
Yet thou my sister art, the clergy tell me;
Though, truth to state, thy brutish looks compel me
To hope these parsons merely want to sell me.
[...] Read more
poem by James Brunton Stephens
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Jinny the Just
Releas'd from the noise of the butcher and baker
Who, my old friends be thanked, did seldom forsake her,
And from the soft duns of my landlord the Quaker,
From chiding the footmen and watching the lasses,
From Nell that burn'd milk, and Tom that broke glasses
(Sad mischiefs thro' which a good housekeeper passes!)
From some real care but more fancied vexation,
From a life parti-colour'd half reason half passion,
Here lies after all the best wench in the nation.
From the Rhine to the Po, from the Thames to the Rhone,
Joanna or Janneton, Jinny or Joan,
'Twas all one to her by what name she was known.
For the idiom of words very little she heeded,
Provided the matter she drove at succeeded,
She took and gave languages just as she needed.
[...] Read more
poem by Matthew Prior
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!