Quotes about wove, page 2
Magic
What was the spell she wove for me?
Life was a common useful thing,
An eligible building site
To hold a house to shelter me.
There were no woodlands whispering;
No unimagined dreams at night
About that house had folded wing,
Disordering my life for me.
I was so safe until she came
With starry secrets in her eyes,
And on her lips the word of power.
- Like to the moon of May she came,
That makes men mad who were born wise -
Within her hand the only flower
Man ever plucked from Paradise;
So to my half-built house she came.
She turned my useful plot of land
Into a garden wild and fair,
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poem by Edith Nesbit
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Cloudburst Of Romantics
They took the hike
He tasted the cold snow
Of the mountain top
She pumped and pumped
Her legs as she escalate
With the thinning air
Until they conquered
The lofty slope
Aghast, they panted
And spoke each other's name
They were at the top of the world
A perfect place to fall
Together, they filled the skies
With new born nebulas and
Took each turn to admire
Their lofty masterpiece
From her tiny drops of Jupiter
To his reigning ring of Saturn
They owned the universe
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poem by Norman Santos
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Go
as i danced i saw four birds, way up high,
each from a distant corner of the sky,
spiral together. from their wings
threads of gold appeared.
their flights wove them into a net.
i watched them for a time, wondering at their art.
when they were done, each flew off in a separate direction.
the net they wove glided slowly, through the air, to my feet.
i stepped within it. it lifted me, ever so gently.
higher and higher i rose. when i looked down, through my feet,
the whole earth appeared. but not the earth we know.
if all precious gems known to Man were pieced together
in one perfect ball they could not match the transcendent hues
which streamed from that globe. its glow came from within,
not without. i was mesmerized by its beauty.
but rosy clouds soon covered it from view.
the clouds became a sandy shore. the sky a waveless sea.
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poem by Doug Bentley
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Robert Burns
The following ode was delivered by the author at the Centennial Anniversary
of Burns, Ingersoll, in presence of a large assembly in the year 1859:
This night shall never be forgot,
For humble life none now despise,
Since Barns was born in lowly cot,
Whose muse's wing soared to the skies.
'Round Scotia's brow he wove a wreath
And raised her name in classic story,
A deathless fame he did bequeath,
His country's pride, his country's glory.
He sang her hills, he sang her dales,
Of Bonnie Doon and Banks of Ayr,
Of death and Hornbrook, and such tales
As Tam O'Shanter and his mare.
He bravely taught that manly worth
More precious is than finest gold ;
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poem by James McIntyre
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Beowulf (Episode 15)
THERE was hurry and hest in Heorot now
for hands to bedeck it, and dense was the throng
of men and women the wine-hall to cleanse,
the guest-room to garnish. Gold-gay shone the hangings
that were wove on the wall, and wonders many
to delight each mortal that looks upon them.
Though braced within by iron bands,
that building bright was broken sorely;
rent were its hinges; the roof alone
held safe and sound, when, seared with crime,
the fiendish foe his flight essayed,
of life despairing. -- No light thing that,
the flight for safety, -- essay it who will!
Forced of fate, he shall find his way
to the refuge ready for race of man,
for soul-possessors, and sons of earth;
and there his body on bed of death
shall rest after revel.
Arrived was the hour
when to hall proceeded Healfdene's son:
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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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The Canoe
My masters twain made me a bed
Of pine-boughs resinous, and cedar;
Of moss, a soft and gentle breeder
Of dreams of rest; and me they spread
With furry skins, and laughing said,
'Now she shall lay her polish'd sides,
As queens do rest, or dainty brides,
Our slender lady of the tides!'
My masters twain their camp-soul lit,
Streamed incense from the hissing cones,
Large, crimson flashes grew and whirl'd
Thin, golden nerves of sly light curl'd
Round the dun camp, and rose faint zones,
Half way about each grim bole knit,
Like a shy child that would bedeck
With its soft clasp a Brave's red neck;
Yet sees the rough shield on his breast,
The awful plumes shake on his crest,
And fearful drops his timid face,
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poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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Faustine
LEAN BACK, and get some minutes’ peace;
Let your head lean
Back to the shoulder with its fleece
Of locks, Faustine.
The shapely silver shoulder stoops,
Weighed over clean
With state of splendid hair that droops
Each side, Faustine.
Let me go over your good gifts
That crown you queen;
A queen whose kingdom ebbs and shifts
Each week, Faustine.
Bright heavy brows well gathered up:
White gloss and sheen;
Carved lips that make my lips a cup
To drink, Faustine,
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poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Tangled Up In Love
You know the cards are stacked against this
As we surrender our defenses
And I've torn down all my fences just for you
And you feel it too
What do we do
Do we run or see it through
The longer we're together
It just keeps gettin' better
And you hide your little love letters
Around the house for me
And it's plain to see
That you'll always be all I'll ever need
The webs we spun
Wove into one
And left us tangled up in love
You squeeze my hand I understand
About a woman and a man
I love the way you make me feel
You got me tangled up in love
The webs we spun
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song performed by Keith Urban
Added by Lucian Velea
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Extracts From Leon. An Unfinished Poem
IT is a summer evening, calm and fair,
A warm, yet freshening glow is in the air;
Along its bank, the cool stream wanders slow,
Like parting friends that linger as they go.
The willows, as its waters meekly glide,
Bend their dishevelled tresses to the tide,
And seem to give it, with a moaning sigh,
A farewell touch of tearful sympathy.
Each dusky copse is clad in darkest green:
A blackening mass, just edged with silver sheen
From yon clear moon, who in her glassy face
Seems to reflect the risings of the place.
For on her still, pale orb, the eye may see
Dim spots of shadowy brown, like distant tree
Or far-off hillocks on a moonlight lea.
The stars have lit in heaven their lamps of gold,
The viewless dew falls lightly on the wold,
The gentle air, that softly sweeps the leaves,
A strain of faint, unearthly music weaves;
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poem by Joseph Rodman Drake
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Book V - Part 07 - Beginnings Of Civilization
Afterwards,
When huts they had procured and pelts and fire,
And when the woman, joined unto the man,
Withdrew with him into one dwelling place,
Were known; and when they saw an offspring born
From out themselves, then first the human race
Began to soften. For 'twas now that fire
Rendered their shivering frames less staunch to bear,
Under the canopy of the sky, the cold;
And Love reduced their shaggy hardiness;
And children, with the prattle and the kiss,
Soon broke the parents' haughty temper down.
Then, too, did neighbours 'gin to league as friends,
Eager to wrong no more or suffer wrong,
And urged for children and the womankind
Mercy, of fathers, whilst with cries and gestures
They stammered hints how meet it was that all
Should have compassion on the weak. And still,
Though concord not in every wise could then
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poem by Lucretius
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