Quotes about copse, page 5
To Victory
Return to greet me, colours that were my joy,
Not in the woeful crimson of men slain,
But shining as a garden; come with the streaming
Banners of dawn and sundown after rain.
I want to fill my gaze with blue and silver,
Radiance through living roses, spires of green
Rising in young-limbed copse and lovely wood,
Where the hueless wind passes and cries unseen.
I am not sad; only I long for lustre, --
Tired of the greys and browns and the leafless ash.
I would have hours that move like a glitter of dancers
Far from the angry guns that boom and flash.
Return, musical, gay with blossom and fleetness,
Days when my sight shall be clear and my heart rejoice;
Come from the sea with breadth of approaching brightness,
When the blithe wind laughs on the hills with uplifted voice.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
De Profundis
There is a stubble field on which a black rain falls.
There is a tree which, brown, stands lonely here.
There is a hissing wind which haunts deserted huts---
How sad this evening.
Past the village pond
The gentle orphan still gathers scanty ears of corn.
Golden and round her eyes are gazing in the dusk
And her lap awaits the heavenly bridegroom.
Returning home
Shepherds found the sweet body
Decayed in the bramble bush.
A shade I am remote from sombre hamlets.
The silence of God
I drank from the woodland well.
On my forehead cold metal forms.
Spiders look for my heart.
[...] Read more
poem by Georg Trakl
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
If Tristan was mending his girlfriend's jewelry, would he use an Isolde-ring Iron?
I wondered, if the hero had been overweight or baldy
would women weep, perhaps lose sleep, o'er Tristan and Isolde?
And then I pushed derision from my vision of the plot
and asked my heart to seek the part, wherein the story got
its hook and held my interest. The part where it took hold.
The crux of what draws in the masses, since the days of old.
How can we find a modern link, a crude analogy
compared to such medieval ink which peppered History.
I thought then of a trinket. A desk-top toy per chance,
those cradles of ball bearings swinging in hypnotic trance.
For love to last eternally, would mirror this toy's mission
and live within the pleasing din that chimes with each collision.
And just as in enchanted forests, mystic wood or copse...
The forces great will separate them, till at last,
the cradle stops.
poem by Hola Mentirosa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
My Orcha'd in Linden Lea
'Ithin the woodlands, flow'ry gleaded,
By the woak tree's mossy moot,
The sheenen grass bleades, timber-sheaded,
Now do quiver under voot;
An' birds do whissle auver head,
An' water's bubblen in its bed,
An' ther vor me the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.
When leaves that leately wer a-springen
Now do feade 'ithin the copse,
An' painted birds do hush ther zingen
Up upon the timber's tops;
An' brown-leav'd fruit's a-turnen red,
In cloudless zunsheen, auver head,
Wi' fruit vor me the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.
Let other vo'k meake money vaster
In the air o' dark-room'd towns,
[...] Read more
poem by William Barnes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Milton Read Again (in Surrey)
Three golden months while summer on us stole
I have read your joyful tale another time,
Breathing more freely in that larger clime
And learning wiselier to deserve the whole.
Your Spirit, Master, has been close at hand
And guided me, still pointing treasures rare,
Thick-sown where I before saw nothing fair
And finding waters in the barren land,
Barren once thought because my eyes were dim.
Like one I am grown to whom the common field
And often-wandered copse one morning yield
New pleasures suddenly; for over him
Falls the weird spirit of unexplained delight,
New mystery in every shady place,
In every whispering tree a nameless grace,
New rapture on the windy seaward height.
[...] Read more
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Sparrow Hills
Breasts beneath kisses, as though under a tap!
Summer’s stream won’t run for ever.
We can’t pump out the accordion’s roar
night after night, in a dusty fever.
I’ve heard of age. Terrible prophecies!
No wave will lift its hands to the stars.
They say – who believes? No face in the leaves,
no gods in the air, in the ponds: no hearts.
Rouse your soul! Make the day, foaming.
It’s noon in the world. Where are your eyes?
See there, thoughts in the whiteness seething,
fir-cones, woodpeckers, cloud, heat, pines.
Here, the city’s trolley-lines end.
Beyond there’s no rails, it’s the trees.
Beyond – it’s Sunday, breaking branches,
the glade running off, sliding on leaves.
[...] Read more
poem by Boris Pasternak
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Tired
I am tired to-night, and something,
The wind maybe, or the rain,
Or the cry of a bird in the copse outside,
Has brought back the past and its pain.
And I feel as I sit here thinking,
That the hand of a dead old June
Has reached out hold of my heart’s loose strings,
And is drawing them up in tune.
I am tired to-night, and I miss you,
And long for you, love, through tears;
And it seems but to-day that I saw you go –
You, who have been gone for years.
And I seem to be newly lonely –
I, who am so much alone;
And the strings of my heart are well in tune,
But they have not the same old tone.
I am tired; and that old sorrow
Sweeps down the bed of my soul,
[...] Read more
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Ecstatic Truth
What bedtime stories
Will you choose for your children
To knock them back
Into the poppies to sleep,
My pretties,
To send them snoozing
From their overfed
Satanic Paradise
Caged in a middle-class house
Sequestered by a manicured
Golf-course
Locked with a gate code
The nitric oxide allaying fears
Into the briefest of
Sugar-coated comas?
Certainly not the vulgar
Hypocrisy of your
Communist youth—
That the man you first loved,
Which was I,
[...] Read more
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Awake! Awake!
``Awake, awake, for the Springtime's sake,
March daffodils too long dreaming;
The lark is high in the spacious sky
And the celandine's stars are gleaming.
The gorse is ablaze, and the woodland sprays
Are as purple as August heather,
The buds unfurl, and mavis and merle
Are singing duets together.
``The rivulets run, first one by one,
Then meet in the swirling river,
And on out-peeping roots the sun-god shoots
The shafts of his golden quiver.
In the hazel copse the thrush never stops
Till with music the world seems ringing,
And the milkmaid hale, as she carries her pail,
Goes home to the dairy, singing:
``And the swain and his sweet in the love-lanes meet,
And welcome and face each other,
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Austin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
A Year in Haiku
JANUARY
Delightful display
Of snowdrops bowing white heads
To the sun’s glory.
FEBRUARY
Green buds now appear
Indicating spring will soon
Energise us all.
MARCH
Lambs gambol in fields
Frisky with the joys of life
Bleating happily.
APRIL
[...] Read more
poem by Paul Holmes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!