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snowdrops

Quotes about snowdrops, page 2

Love Rooted in Infinity

We loved each other before the beginnings,
before the first snowdrops arrived,
before the apricot blossoms bloomed,
even before the earth started spinning,

before the existence of time,
before the angels learned to fly,
before the sun was shining in the sky.
We loved each other, what’s the crime?

We didn’t do anything wrong,
We let our souls be united,
We were together and delighted,
Our love was pure, sincere, and strong.

We didn’t rush to change the world,
We smelled the flowers from our hair,
The colors from our eyes we shared,
Around us, the eternal space unfurled.

[...] Read more

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The autumnal princess...

One step further to the winter
Two steps further to the spring
The autumnal princess danced
On the silvery feathered wind

Like a lotus flower of pearl
She coverts the sleepy world
And soothes the mirrored stars
In reflective blue stone hearts

By piecing snowdrops of pearl
The oracle amethyst of her eye
Divides a world of brittle pleasure
An autumnal garden of treasure;

That within her lips of autumns gold
-is wrought to rest the woodlands fold
And on her pallid breast that humbles not
Shall be tarried a harvest moon forgot.

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Firelight and Nightfall

The darkness steals the forms of all the queens,
But oh, the palms of his two black hands are red,
Inflamed with binding up the sheaves of dead
Hours that were once all glory and all queens.

And I remember all the sunny hours
Of queens in hyacinth and skies of gold,
And morning singing where the woods are scrolled
And diapered above the chaunting flowers.

Here lamps are white like snowdrops in the grass;
The town is like a churchyard, all so still
And grey now night is here; nor will
Another torn red sunset come to pass.

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T.S. Eliot

East Coker

What is the late November doing
With the disturbance of the spring
And creatures of the summer heat,
And snowdrops writhing under feet
And hollyhocks that aim too high
Red into grey and tumble down
Late roses filled with early snow?
Thunder rolled by the rolling stars
Simulates triumphal cars
Deployed in constellated wars
Scorpion fights against the Sun
Until the Sun and Moon go down
Comets weep and Leonids fly
Hunt the heavens and the plains
Whirled in a vortex that shall bring
The world to that destructive fire
Which burns before the ice-cap reigns.

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Christina Georgina Rossetti

A Rose Has Thorns As Well As Honey

A rose has thorns as well as honey,
I'll not have her for love or money;
An iris grows so straight and fine,
That she shall be no friend of mine;
Snowdrops like the snow would chill me;
Nightshade would caress and kill me;
Crocus like a spear would fright me;
Dragon's-mouth might bark or bite me;
Convolvulus but blooms to die;
A wind-flower suggests a sigh;
Love-lies-bleeding makes me sad;
And poppy-juice would drive me mad: -
But give me holly, bold and jolly,
Honest, prickly, shining holly;
Pluck me holly leaf and berry
For the day when I make merry.

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Boris Pasternak

Out of Superstition

A box of glazed sour fruit compact,
My narrow room.
And oh the grime of lodging rooms
This side the tomb!

This cubbyhole, out of superstition,
I chose once more.
The walls seem dappled oaks; the door,
A singing door.

You strove to leave; my hand was steady
Upon the latch.
My forelock touched a wondrous forehead;
My lips felt violets.

O Sweet! Your dress as on a day
Not long ago
To April, like a snowdrop, chirps
A gay 'Hello!'

[...] Read more

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Snowdrops

They're to be seen across the north,
From frozen ground they will sprout forth,
Of nature we see a rebirth,
Seeds of life hid within the earth,
At last winter is to depart,
For the spring months are soon to start,
Flowers that are the most pure white,
Shall always be a pleasing sight,
Undeterred should there still be frost,
Flowers will open at all cost,
The snowdrop's beauty shines the most,
In a month that's a bitter host,
In woods darted about the place,
Bringing smiles to many a face,
For our countryside they do bless,
bringing about scenes that impress.

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Holy Ground

Shy maids have haunts of still delight,
The lover glades he never tells;
And one is mine where mass the bright
And odoured chimes of foxglove-bells.

A dewy, covert, silent place
Where surely long ago God walked
Close to His creature's blinded face,
And for his finer moulding talked.

There hawthorn glows as if, white-hot,
God present, it were sacred found
To preach a creed too oft forgot--
That all we tread is holy ground.

Ah, could we but remember this,
Our thoughts would spring as purely up
To labour for our fellows' bliss
As doth to heaven a snowdrop's cup!

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George Meredith

The Flower Of The Ruins

Take thy lute and sing
By the ruined castle walls,
Where the torrent-foam falls,
And long weeds wave:
Take thy lute and sing,
O'er the grey ancestral grave!
Daughter of a King,
Tune thy string.

Sing of happy hours,
In the roar of rushing time;
Till all the echoes chime
To the days gone by;
Sing of passing hours
To the ever-present sky; -
Weep-and let the showers
Wake thy flowers.

Sing of glories gone:-
No more the blazoned fold

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Sunshine

Sunshine through my window, thought you'd left me with the night
Waved goodbye at twilight.
My heart sank with you in the west
But as i quickly washed and dressed
You kissed treetops, and lit snowdrops
And promised Spring as lovers' hopes on breeze did cling
And feathered soft dawn choir did sing.
Sunshine in my soul i look toward an open sky
Empty, save for a songbird on high.
My senses fill with jasmine plume
Breathing life from Winter's doom
Rising where the angels flew
Setting on earth where Eden grew.
Blood red heaven as sunset dies
But resurrection lights the skies
And sunshine smiles as rainbow cries.

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A Snow Scene

When I walked out this morning
There was dandruff everywhere,
Dandruff on the pathways,
Dandruff falling through the air,
Somebody huge was high up there
Combing and combing his shaggy hair! !

'Why don't you use some shampoo? ! ' I shouted.

No answer.

Then there was a roll of thunder
And I ran back indoors.
I didn't know why I was frightened
But I thought it was rather sinister:

SOMEBODY was definitely up there,
Combing and combing his shaggy hair! !

Later a chap with a yellow face came along

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Spring in New Zealand

Thou wilt come with suddenness,
Like a gull between the waves,
Or a snowdrop that doth press
Through the white shroud on the graves;
Like a love too long withheld,
That at last has over-welled.

What if we have waited long,
Brooding by the Southern Pole,
Where the towering icebergs throng,
And the inky surges roll:
What can all their terror be
When thy fond winds compass thee?

They shall blow through all the land
Fragrance of thy cloudy throne,
Underneath the rainbow spanned
Thou wilt enter in thine own,
And the glittering earth shall shine
Where thy footstep is divine

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The first unsullied snowdrop

Love; what flower do you most aspire?
Love; what flower should I most admire?
Red peonie's with "lustful conduit desire
Purple" crocuses cupped with fire.

Or the now pink foreign ragged robin,
Breathless; rolling on… that country, common.
I "sprig of green moist" Solomon's seal,
You a single rose bud so genteel.

Love; what flower should I mostly aspire?
Love: what flowers do you mostly require?
Be it the fox gloves fleshy advancing spire
Or the honey suckles tendrils of wire…

Or be you simply May times forget-me-not
Still better the first unsullied snowdrop.

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Spring Begins (Terza Rima Sonnet)

I hear the music, magic all around,
the little birds are singing in my dreams,
ah, how I missed this pleasant, joyful sound.

I feel the freshness of the crystal streams.
White snowdrops gently say the Spring is here.
Through puffy clouds, the sun so happy gleams,

the rain has stopped; the sky is blue and clear.
Pink tulips wake up early from the snow,
Spring is indeed the best time of the year.

The gardens missed the old romantic glow.
Blue angels dance; the world in wonder spins.
The Winter cries. She's sad and has to go.

She shows, last time, her irritated grins;
The Spring has won again the Spring begins!

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Sonnet - To Tartar, a Terrier Beauty

Snowdrop of dogs, with ear of brownest dye,
Like the last orphan leaf of naked tree
Which shudders in black autumn; though by thee,
Of hearing careless and untutored eye,
Not understood articulate speech of men
Nor marked the artificial mind of books,
-The mortal's voice eternized by the pen,-
Yet hast thou thought and language all unknown
To Babel's scholars; oft intensest looks,
Long scrutiny over some dark-veined stone
Dost thou bestow, learning dead mysteries
Of the world's birth-day, oft in eager tone
With quick-tailed fellows bandiest prompt replies,
Solicitudes canine, four-footed amities.

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Next Year's Spring

THE bed of flowers

Loosens amain,
The beauteous snowdrops

Droop o'er the plain.
The crocus opens

Its glowing bud,
Like emeralds others,

Others, like blood.
With saucy gesture

Primroses flare,
And roguish violets,

Hidden with care;
And whatsoever

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Please, Pray for Ukraine

His dreams for power are colored dark red,
He wants to bound all with an iron chain,
The hopes, the promises, beliefs, all dead,
Please, pray for world peace, please, pray for Ukraine.

Ugly death walks on the streets of Kyiv,
Now all around is only fear and pain,
It happens but is too hard to believe,
Please, pray for world peace, please, pray for Ukraine.

Nobody knows what might tomorrow bring,
How many tears we will hide in the rain,
If snowdrops will rise again in the Spring,
Please, pray for world peace, please, pray for Ukraine.

The love and grace of God with us remain,
Please, pray for world peace, please, pray for Ukraine.

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Amy Lowell

The Book Of Hours Of Sister Clotilde

The Bell in the convent tower swung.
High overhead the great sun hung,
A navel for the curving sky.
The air was a blue clarity.
Swallows flew,
And a cock crew.

The iron clanging sank through the light air,
Rustled over with blowing branches. A flare
Of spotted green, and a snake had gone
Into the bed where the snowdrops shone
In green new-started,
Their white bells parted.

Two by two, in a long brown line,
The nuns were walking to breathe the fine
Bright April air. They must go in soon
And work at their tasks all the afternoon.
But this time is theirs!
They walk in pairs.

[...] Read more

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George Meredith

The Wild Rose And The Snowdrop

The Snowdrop is the prophet of the flowers;
It lives and dies upon its bed of snows;
And like a thought of spring it comes and goes,
Hanging its head beside our leafless bowers.
The sun's betrothing kiss it never knows,
Nor all the glowing joy of golden showers;
But ever in a placid, pure repose,
More like a spirit with its look serene,
Droops its pale cheek veined thro' with infant green.

Queen of her sisters is the sweet Wild Rose,
Sprung from the earnest sun and ripe young June;
The year's own darling and the Summer's Queen!
Lustrous as the new-throned crescent moon.
Much of that early prophet look she shows,
Mixed with her fair espoused blush which glows,
As if the ethereal fairy blood were seen;
Like a soft evening over sunset snows,
Half twilight violet shade, half crimson sheen.

[...] Read more

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Sonnet LXXXIII: Barren Spring

Once more the changed year's turning wheel returns:
And as a girl sails balanced in the wind,
And now before and now again behind
Stoops as it swoops, with cheek that laughs and burns,—
So Spring comes merry towards me here, but earns
No answering smile from me, whose life is twin'd
With the dead boughs that winter still must bind,
And whom to-day the Spring no more concerns.
Behold, this crocus is a withering flame;
This snowdrop, snow; this apple-blossom's part
To breed the fruit that breeds the serpent's art.
Nay, for these Spring-flowers, turn thy face from them,
Nor stay till on the year's last lily-stem
The white cup shrivels round the golden heart.

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