Quotes about leaf, page 23
Moonrise
I awoke in the Midsummer not to call night, in the white and the walk of the morning:
The moon, dwindled and thinned to the fringe of a finger-nail held to the candle,
Or paring of paradisaical fruit, lovely in waning but lustreless,
Stepped from the stool, drew back from the barrow, of dark Maenefa the mountain;
A cusp still clasped him, a fluke yet fanged him, entangled him, not quite utterly.
This was the prized, the desirable sight, unsought, presented so easily,
Parted me leaf and leaf, divided me, eyelid and eyelid of slumber.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Sacrifice
How my body blooms from every vein
more fragrantly, since you appeard to me;
look, I walk slimmer now and straighter,
and all you do is wait-:who are you then?
Look: I feel how I'm moving away,
how I'm shedding my old life, leaf by leaf.
Only your smile spreads like sheer stars
over you and, soon now, over me.
Whatever shines through my childhood years
still nameless and gleaming like water,
I will name after you at the altar,
which is blazing brightly from your hair
and braided gently with your breasts.
Translated by Edward Snow
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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It Came With The Threat Of A Waning Moon
It came with the threat of a waning moon
And the wail of an ebbing tide,
But many a woman has lived for less,
And many a man has died;
For life upon life took hold and passed,
Strong in a fate set free,
Out of the deep into the dark
On for the years to be.
Between the gloom of a waning moon
And the song of an ebbing tide,
Chance upon chance of love and death
Took wing for the world so wide.
O, leaf out of leaf is the way of the land,
Wave out of wave of the sea
And who shall reckon what lives may live
In the life that we bade to be?
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Autumn Friends
If one could bridge the distance with a word,
A journey would become a pilgrimage.
Elegant letters slant across the page.
My leaf has found a home upon your coat.
My kind critic, I think it is our fate
To meet in stanzas of my poetry.
Simile and metaphor must be our bond
Until autumn blows one of us away.
Our rare rapport is irreplacable.
Old moods glimmer on sills like fallen stars.
My little leaf says thank you every day.
It comforts me to know it traveled safe.
'With my compliments to Mukund Dave for
all his eloquent reviews'
poem by Sandra Fowler
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Slowly Into Winter
the leaves slowly cascade down
to the ground
as winter turns slowly to winter
the wind blows them around
untill the cold freezes them to the ground
as winter turns slowly to winter
i return each year to find my leaf lying here
each spring it renews it's promise
this year i didn't wait! after the first spring storm
from its branch it was torn, it lied to me again
so this fall, before the free winds blew
i went to my tree and picked the loveliest leaf icould find
and kept it with mine
untill winter turned slowly to spring
poem by Francis E.rudy
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Water Lilies
Where the water-lilies go
To and fro,
Rocking in the ripples of the water,
Lazy on a leaf lies the Lake King's daugher,
And the faint winds shake her.
Who will come and take her?
I will! I will!
Keep still! Keep still!
Sleeping on a leaf lies the Lake King's daughter. . . .
Then the wind comes skipping
To the lilies on the water;
And the kind winds wake her.
Now who will take her?
With a laugh she is slipping
Through the lilies on the water.
Wait! Wait!
Too late, too late!
Only the water-lilies go
To and fro,
Dipping, dipping,
[...] Read more
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Of The Silenced Quill
a grated gate in midnight's light
once fell upon a sorry sight
as rain washed out the scarlet stain
the skies bowed down to hear the pain
a voice without a body heard
the sordid tale its waist did gird
one witness found, torn leaf by leaf
Creation's glory sank to grief
a tale no word was writ nor said
into the ground the silence bled
a soaked and orphaned quill remains
fraught with want of its trilled refrains
a poet's tome lay ungathered
whispy strands of dreams untethered
if Heaven cried its tears that night
set up the quaich in candlelight
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Autumn Ill
Autumn ill and adored
You die when the hurricane blows in the roseries
When it has snowed
In the orchard trees
Poor autumn
Dead in whiteness and riches
Of snow and ripe fruits
Deep in the sky
The sparrow hawks cry
Over the sprites with green hair the dwarfs
Who’ve never been loved
In the far tree-lines
the stags are groaning
And how I love O season how I love your rumbling
The falling fruits that no one gathers
The wind the forest that are tumbling
All their tears in autumn leaf by leaf
The leaves
You press
A crowd
[...] Read more
poem by Guillaume Apollinaire
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Aquarium Fish
MOULD-COLOURED like the leaf long fallen from
The autumn branch, he rises now, the Fish.
The cold eyes of the gannets see their rock:
He has No-whither. Who was it marked
Earth from the waters? Who
Divided space into such lines for us,
Giving men To and Fro, not Up and Down?
This dweller in the ancient element
Knows Space's cross-road. Who
Closed up the Depth to us? He rises now
Mould-coloured like the leaf long fallen from
The autumn branch, with eyes that are like lamps
Magicians fill with oils from dead men ta'en,
Most rootless of all beings, the Fish.
poem by Padraic Colum
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After Reading An Epic Fantasy
Quite suddenly, full blown,
out of the chubby cheeks of an infant wind,
a leaf landed on a mud-puddle,
like a strange, crude vessel launched
on a fathomless cafe au lait sea.
It tacked eastward for seven ticks of time
then lost its course in a birthday candle blow.
Later, by the sun-shrunken mud-puddle
that had beached the curled brown leaf,
an ant swam a minuscule cove.
But it was a gigantic monster,
and I saw the horrific peril of yet another episode
in the epic from which I'd been excluded,
too huge to be viewed
even as a comprehensible god.
poem by Larry Kimmel
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