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Quotes about clump

Indiana's Clump O' Trees

There's a Clump O' Tree here
and a clump O' tree there
Driven' in my car
I see um everywhere

In duh country
They're all I see
Field.. field
Clump o' tree!

In me old truck
Driven' down highway 3
listening to my music
in clump o' tree country

You probably never noticed um
that make you stupid you see
now don't forget
the important clump o' tree

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Purple Clouds

i've been standing still
across ur window
standing still
amongst empty tables
standing
waiting
watching
u from afar
while
u keep on shining
here i am
gathering mist upon my weathered eye
they clump up, build up
into purple clouds

its just been days
that ur flowing with me
but u evaporated
vanished like pricked bubble
piercing me with lightning

[...] Read more

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The Nightingale's Nest

UP this green woodland-ride let's softly rove,
And list the nightingale — she dwells just here.
Hush ! let the wood-gate softly clap, for fear
The noise might drive her from her home of love;
For here I've heard her many a merry year—
At morn, at eve, nay, all the live-long day,
As though she lived on song. This very spot,
Just where that old-man's-beard all wildly trails
Rude arbours o'er the road, and stops the way —
And where that child its hlue-bell flowers hath got,
Laughing and creeping through the mossy rails—
There have I hunted like a very boy,
Creeping on hands and knees through matted thorn
To find her nest, and see her feed her young.
And vainly did I many hours employ:
All seemed as hidden as a thought unborn.
And where those crimping fern-leaves ramp among
The hazel's under boughs, I've nestled down,
And watched her while she sung ; and her renown
Hath made me marvel that so famed a bird

[...] Read more

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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.

[...] Read more

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The web is more a social creation than a technical one. I designed it for a social effect—to help people work together—and not as a technical toy. The ultimate goal of the Web is to support and improve our weblike existence in the world. We clump into families, associations, and companies. We develop trust across the miles and distrust around the corner.

in Weaving The Web: The Original Design and Ultimate Destiny of the World Wide Web (2004)Report problemRelated quotes
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Long Antennae

The long antennae
of green fire
snap.
Each clump blurs
into sky.
Only varnished palm spears
stay sharply near,
to put infinity the other side of here
and save the finite eye.

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Stumped

I slump upon a stump,
Beside a clump of moss,
Pondering the universe,
Life and love and loss.

Then I hear a 'thump! '
Another tree has fallen,
And all throughout the forest floats
A fog of spores and pollen!

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Buried in the Sand

A beggar clump adorns a dump, his pencil box in hand -
With sightless eyes upon the skies he's lying there unmanned.

He's fallen down in Shantytown, his knees too weak to stand,
With no relief and bitter grief too dark to understand.

The Bowery blight is hid from sight, it's covered up and bland,
And Robin Hood and Brother Hood lie buried in the sand.

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Brute To Blame

A beast of the East is a brute so blind,
It wanders from the lands so perfect.
It is a dumb creature so burdened with youth,
A reptile in the park, the one to blame.
Around a clump of trees the burdened mammal
Stings our sight and rubs the bush with its tail.
In the thicket we laugh as well,
This grove of blame is like a crypt of burden
Where I died in a funeral so bright and ancient.
The beast is out there with a tomb
So then my grave is a tomb for him.

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Undressed for winter

12/28/88
Island Pond VT.

Looking
Past the window
My mind is caught on the snowy day

You can look across the road
And see the maple trees have undressed for winter

Wondering how they might stay warm
The evergreens come into view
In a clump of a dozen or so

They all seem huddled against the edge of winter
The white birch is small, undressed as well
The evergreens are evergreen
They wear their name well

While the maples and white birch

[...] Read more

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