Quotes about lark, page 23
The River Lark
The valley of the River Lark,
Whether carved through a country park,
Set along side a tranquil lake,
Crafts a beautiful walk to take,
Life ever teems upon the bank,
Mother nature we've cause to thank,
Age old roots of the English Oak,
Those too of the quaint local folk,
Down in the South East of England,
Amid a blanket of farmland,
The charming Suffolk countryside,
Where there are treasures to be spied,
A course cut by many a wood,
Prized by those in the neighbourhood,
There is much worthy to behold,
Owing to settlements of old.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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Pay
Pay for this, pay for that,
pay for everything on the rack.
Drive in my new 66 Chevy car
not knowing what I pay for gets me that far.
Everything is a shot in the dark,
investing in something that could be a lark.
It ends up being a half baked cake,
doesn't even rise for heaven sakes.
Time could be wasted on better times,
could have been having fun drinking wine
with friends that make me feel fine.
So I say the best things in life are free,
like when I was a kid climbing a tree.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on January 17,2012
www.suechevalier.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Jack Cornstalk in his Teens
“If not in the Garden, he had in the ark,
To neither the beasts’ nor the passengers’ joy.
Full many a boyish and monkeyish lark,
The sandy-complexioned, the freckle-faced boy.
And down through the ages he rattles the drums,
While armies and nations each other destroy;
The century goes, and the century comes
But he lives on forever, the freckle-faced boy.
All over the world are the lands of his birth;
And when Time and Transgression this planet destroy
He will come to advise the last man on earth
The fatherly, chummy, the freckle-faced boy.”
poem by Henry Lawson
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A Dead Friend
IT hardly seems that he is dead,
So strange it is that we are here
Beneath this great blue shell of sky
With apple-bloom and pear:
It scarce seems true that we can note
The bursting rosebud’s edge of flame,
Or watch the blackbird’s swelling throat
While he is but a name.
No more the chaffinch at his step
Pipes suddenly her shrill surprise,
For in an ecstasy of sleep
Unconsciously he lies,
Not knowing that the sweet brown lark
From off her bosom’s feathery lace
Shakes down the dewdrop in her flight
To fall upon his face.
poem by Norman Rowland Gale
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To The Wood-Lark
O stay, sweet warbling wood-lark, stay,
Nor quit for me the trembling spray,
A hapless lover courts thy lay,
Thy soothing fond complaining.
Again, again that tender part,
That I may catch thy melting art,
For surely that wad touch her heart,
Wha kills me wi' disdaining.
Say, was thy little mate unkind,
And heard thee as the careless wind?
Oh, nocht but lobve and sorrow join'd,
Sic notes o' woe could wauken.
Thou tells o' never-ending care;
O' speechless grief, and dark despair;
For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair!
Or my poor heart is broken!
poem by Robert Burns
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Happy Valentine Day, My Belov'd Wife
When I was sad
And less love-mad,
And things went awry,
My heart felt sorry.
When life turned dark
I turned a Lark;
When all was well,
The joy, I can't tell!
When things were good
Back was our mood;
When life was rosy,
I wanted you more cosy!
When things went downhill
And I was quite ill,
Your love remained,
As ever, unstained!
[...] Read more
poem by John Celes
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Song (Untitled #5)
I cannot lose thee for a day,
But like a bird with restless wing
My heart will find thee far away,
And on thy bosom fall and sing,
My nest is here, my rest is here; -
And in the lull of wind and rain,
Fresh voices make a sweet refrain,
'His rest is there, his nest is there.'
With thee the wind and sky are fair,
But parted, both are strange and dark;
And treacherous the quiet air
That holds me singing like a lark,
O shield my love, strong arm above!
Till in the hush of wind and rain,
Fresh voices make a rich refrain,
'The arm above will shield thy love.'
poem by George Meredith
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Not To Love You
I feel you in the sunshine.
Your scent
Fills the garden of a memory.
And I always find
Your eyes in the dark.
I feel you next to me
But can't touch you.
Only through
The song of a lark.
I have tried so
Not to love you.
Forever in vain.
I still hear you
Calling my name.
Your voice
That sweet echo of pain.
Burning passion
You never can tame.
[...] Read more
poem by Kevin East
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Among the Rocks
Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth,
This autumn morning! How he sets his bones
To bask i' the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet
For the ripple to run over in its mirth;
Listening the while, where on the heap of stones
The white breast of the sea-lark twitters sweet.
That is the doctrine, simple, ancient, true;
Such is life's trial, as old earth smiles and knows.
If you loved only what were worth your love,
Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you:
Make the low nature better by your throes!
Give earth yourself, go up for gain above!
poem by Robert Browning
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Flames Of Song
Tonight moon will write a poem
on my hand
about an almond love.
I find a breeze.
Nightmare: I was caught stealing words
from your lips, a lark
flies into death, paralyzed
by peace!
I will have the baby, I cried
at the insult to a rape
of truth, after the brawl
Pyramid was not made in a day.
Who slept in the arms of ambers?
Look, it was an atomic illusion of a guilt
of centuries. Time walks with bowed head
like a blind man.
[...] Read more
poem by Satish Verma
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