Quotes about sylvan, page 8
For Little Things
Last night I looked across the hills
And through an arch of darkling pine
Low-swung against a limpid west
I saw a young moon shine.
And as I gazed there blew a wind,
Loosed where the sylvan shadows stir,
Bringing delight to soul and sense
The breath of dying fir.
This morn I saw a dancing host
Of poppies in a garden way,
And straight my heart was mirth-possessed
And I was glad as they.
I heard a song across the sea
As sweet and faint as echoes are,
And glimpsed a poignant happiness
No care of earth might mar.
[...] Read more
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
To A Canadian Lad Killed In The War
O noble youth that held our honour in keeping,
And bore it sacred through the battle flame,
How shall we give full measure of acclaim
To thy sharp labour, thy immortal reaping?
For though we sowed with doubtful hands, half sleeping,
Thou in thy vivid pride hast reaped a nation,
And brought it in with shouts and exultation,
With drums and trumpets, with flags flashing and leaping.
Let us bring pungent wreaths of balsam, and tender
Tendrils of wild-flowers, lovelier for thy daring,
And deck a sylvan shrine, where the maple parts
The moonlight, with lilac bloom, and the splendour
Of suns unwearied; all unwithered, wearing
Thy valor stainless in our heart of hearts.
poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
An Excursion to Nilgiris(Ooty)
We ran so fast
by a mizzling road
to Doddabetta,
the highest peak of Nilgris.
The tallest teaks
turned to take a peep
at our boys ascending the hills
like the mounting clouds.
“ Hey, our boys move and dance
clap their hands and sing lovely songs;
catch the passing clouds in their palms,
fling themselves on the way
and into the world entrancing! ”.
We were looting at noon
the Ooty apples
and tootling into the sylvan glades
of the Botanical gardens.
[...] Read more
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Oh Fairest of the Rural Maids
Oh fairest of the rural maids!
Thy birth was in the forest shades;
Green boughs, and glimpses of the sky,
Were all that met thy infant eye.
Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child,
Were ever in the sylvan wild;
And all the beauty of the place
Is in thy heart and on thy face.
The twilight of the trees and rocks
Is in the light shade of thy locks;
Thy step is as the wind, that weaves
Its playful way among the leaves.
Thine eyes are springs, in whose serene
And silent waters heaven is seen;
Their lashes are the herbs that look
On their young figures in the brook.
[...] Read more
poem by William Cullen Bryant
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Elegiac II.
Trunks the forest yielded with gums ambrosial oozing,
Boughs with apples laden beautiful, Hesperian,
Golden, odoriferous, perfume exhaling about them,
Orbs in a dark umbrage luminous and radiant;
To the palate grateful, more luscious were not in Eden,
Or in that fabled garden of Alcinoüs;
Out of a dark umbrage sounds also musical issued,
Birds their sweet transports uttering in melody
Thrushes clear piping, wood-pigeons cooing, arousing
Loudly the nightingale, loudly the sylvan echoes;
Waters transpicuous flowed under, flowed to the list’ning
Ear with a soft murmur, softly soporiferous;
Nor, with ebon locks too, there wanted, circling, attentive
Unto the sweet fluting, girls, of a swarthy shepherd;
Over a sunny level their flocks are lazily feeding,
They of Amor musing rest in a leafy cavern.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Detachment
As I go forth from fair to mart
With racket ringing,
Who would divine that in my heart
Mad larks are singing.
As I sweet sympathy express,
Lest I should pain them,
The money-mongers cannot guess
How I disdain them.
As I sit at some silly tea
And flirt and flatter
How I abhor society
And female chatter.
As I with wonderment survey
Their peacock dresses,
My mind is wafted far away
To wildernesses.
As I sit in some raucous pub,
Taboo to women,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
On A Picture Painted By Her Self, Representing Two Nimphs Of Diana's, One In A Posture To Hunt, The Other Batheing
We are Diana's Virgin-Train,
Descended of no Mortal Strain;
Our Bows and Arrows are our Goods,
Our Pallaces, the lofty Woods,
The Hills and Dales, at early Morn,
Resound and Eccho with our Horn;
We chase the Hinde and Fallow-Deer,
The Wolf and Boar both dread our Spear;
In Swiftness we out-strip the Wind,
An Eye and Thought we leave behind;
We Fawns and Shaggy Satyrs awe;
To Sylvan Pow'rs we give the Law:
Whatever does provoke our Hate,
Our Javelins strike, as sure as Fate;
We Bathe in Springs, to cleanse the Soil,
Contracted by our eager Toil;
In which we shine like glittering Beams,
Or Christal in the Christal Streams;
Though Venus we transcend in Form,
[...] Read more
poem by Anne Killigrew
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Tree In The Field
Perhaps it was a dream,
that ripped Reality's seam,
on that day I saw the tree,
alone in a green sea.
Years washed over it,
the world its roots bit,
yet still that tree lives,
till to it my life I give.
We would watch my old friend,
under a black sky with no end,
where the stars would smile bright,
and life didn't seem so trite.
But everyone dies I guess,
and I am something less
than the sylvan Keeper
of memories of a world gone deeper.
[...] Read more
poem by Soren Valentine
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
A Silurian Holiday
'Tis Master Fitch, the editor;
He takes an holiday.
Now wherefore, venerable sir,
So resolutely gay?
He lifts his head, he laughs aloud,
Odzounds! 'tis drear to see!
'Because the Boodle-Scribbler crowd
Will soon be far from me.
'Full many a year I've striven well
To freeze the caitiffs out
By making this good town a Hell,
But still they hang about.
'They maken mouths and eke they grin
At the dollar limit game;
And they are holpen in that sin
By many a wicked dame.
[...] Read more
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Ballade
By Mystic's banks I held my dream.
(I held my fishing rod as well,)
The vision was of dace and bream,
A fruitless vision, sooth to tell.
But round about the sylvan dell
Were other sweet Arcadian shrines,
Gone now, is all the rural spell,
Arcadia has trolley lines.
Oh, once loved, sluggish, darkling stream,
For me no more, thy waters swell,
Thy music now the engines' scream,
Thy fragrance now the factory's smell;
Too near for me the clanging bell;
A false light in the water shines
While Solitude lists to her knell,--
Arcadia has trolley lines.
Thy wooded lanes with shade and gleam
Where bloomed the fragrant asphodel,
[...] Read more
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!