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snowdrops

Quotes about snowdrops

136 quotes about snowdrops.

Snowdrops

The Snowdrop Girl in fields of snowdrops walks,
Whiter than foam, deeper than waters flowing,
Flakes of wild milk gone blowing,
Snowing on cloudy stalks.
The Snowdrop Girl goes picking flowers of snow,
Blossoms of darkness bubbling into dreams,
In a strange country, by the shadowy streams
Where the cruel petals of the Coke-tree grow.

From the smoke and the fume of the backyard room,
Where poverty sits and gloats,
On runaway feet from a dirty street
To a field of snow she floats;
And tickets to Hell have a curious smell
And a dangerous crystal whiff,
Where men hawk Death in a snowdrops’s breath
At a couple of shillings a sniff.

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Snow or Snowdrops?

Is it snow or snowdrops' shimmer
Whitens thus the bladed grass,
With a faint aërial glimmer,--
Spring or winter, which did pass?
For the sky is dim and tender
With an evanescent light,
And the fading fields are white,
White with snow or snowdrops, under
The fair firstling stars of night.


Little robin, softly, cheerly
Piping on yon wintry bough,
Why have all the fields that pearly
Iridescence, knowest thou?
Did old Winter, grim and hoary,
Aim a parting dart at Spring
As she fled on azure wing,
Or did she with rainbow glory
In his face her snowdrops fling?

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Robert Burns

The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.

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Cherry blossom rise

Cherry blossom rise
Snowdrops announce the Spring's birth
Winter slow resigns

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A Poem At The Approach Of Spring

It's spring. I suppose I ought to be impressed
By snowdrops, daffodils and all the rest -
Quite frankly I detest
The whole goddamn scene,
I'm sick of every platitude
That betrays some soppy poetic attitude -
I'm feeling quite depressed!
The world is young again and green
But, what the hell,
I feel about a hundred years old!
Yes, I detest
The way the poets are so obsessed
With snowdrops, daffodils and all the rest!
I suppose you've guessed
I've lost my poet's interest
In life and growing things,
The way the blackbird sings
And builds its nest,
I am a man apart
And nothing will ever comfort my empty heart.

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Christina Georgina Rossetti

The Lily Has An Air

The lily has an air,
And the snowdrop a grace,
And the sweetpea a way,
And the heartsease a face, -
Yet there's nothing like the rose
When she blows.

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Withered Snowdrops

THEY came in the early spring-days,
With the first refreshing showers
And I watched the growing beauty
Of the little drooping flowers.

They had no bright hues to charm me,
No gay painting to allure;
But they made me think of angels,
They were all so white and pure.

In the early morns I saw them,
Dew-drops clinging to each bell.
And the first glad sunbeam hasting
Just to kiss them ere they fell.

Daily grew their spotless beauty;
But I feared when chill winds blew
They were all too frail and tender,—
And alas! my fears were true.

[...] Read more

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Christina Georgina Rossetti

Baby Lies So Fast Asleep

Baby lies so fast asleep
That we cannot wake her:
Will the angels clad in white
Fly from heaven to take her?
Baby lies so fast asleep
That no pain can grieve her;
Put a snowdrop in her hand,
Kiss her once and leave her.

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Snowdrops

Have you heard the Snowdrops ringing
Their bells to themselves?
Smaller and whiter than the singing
Of any fairy elves
Who follow Mab their Queen
When she is winging
On a moth across the night
And calls them all
With a far-twinkling call
Like the tiniest ray of tiniest starlight
That ever was seen?


Far and near, high and low,
Don't you hear the little bells go?
Not in the big winds that blow
The roaring beeches to and fro,
Not in the lower rivers
Of the breeze
Below the trees,

[...] Read more

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A Brueghel Winter

Winter winds are biting,
Etching the woods in shadows.

The paw prints of hunting dogs
Are black stars in the snow

Beyond the icy poles of denuded trees
Even the hawks have frozen
Hanging, still, in the bleak chill of day.

The hill is a perilous stair
Here and there, in isolated pools
Fish blink up through glassy windows of water
The year turns on its axis
Underground, numb snowdrops shiver and wait.

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Winter

Autumn leaves blow around
slowly Winter creeps on forward
bringing an icy chill to the air.
Frost in the morning carpets the fields
above the Blue skies change to Grey
darkness moves on in early.
As winds whistle a song in the trees
below Squirrels squabble with birds over food
Snowdrops pop their heads out of the earth.
This is Winter the cold season
the prelude to Spring
to some harsh and bleak
others very beautiful.

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This Peach Is Pink With Such a Pink

This peach is pink with such a pink
As suits the peach divinely;
The cunning colour rarely spread
Fades to the yellow finely;
But where to spy the truest pink
Is in my Love's soft cheek, I think.

The snowdrop, child of windy March,
Doth glory in her whiteness;
Her golden neighbours, crocuses,
Unenvious praise her brightness!
But I do know where, out of sight,
My sweetheart keeps a warmer white.

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Jewels In Our Souls

Planetary, grey white stars
We keep them in our hearts.
Where we never returning go...
Unlike snowdrops returning snow...
These stars we already know...
Are—our friends of near and long ago?
Their tears are too outspoken,
Their faces like clouds unbroken.
These are the jewels in our souls
These are the stars everybody patrols'.
Yes, ah' these are the stars'
Everybody holds within their hearts
Within their planetary, grey white souls.

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Seasonal Hiakus

SEASONAL HIAKUS


Summer

Days stretch out their arms
Spirits lift with rising sun
Bare feet in the sand


Autumn

Leave are falling down
Small Wellington-booted feet
Kick them through the town


Winter

Not a time of death

[...] Read more

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Red, Red Gold

Red, red gold, a kingdom's ransom, child,
To weave thy yellow hair she bade them spin.
At early dawn the gossamer spiders toiled,
And wove the sunrise in.

She took the treasures of the deep blue noon,
She took the clear eyes of the morning star,
The pale--faced lilies of a seven--days moon,
The dust of Phoebus' car.

She painted thee with dewdrops from the flowers,
Stained with their petals, hyacinth and rose,
And violets all wet with April showers
And snowdrops from the snows.

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Spring's Sonnet

The golden dust of the sad moon,
Sifts musical notes all around,
I listen to this simple tune,
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound.

White angels play the violin,
The yellow birds sing a new song,
The party’s on, the fun begins,
Red flowers smiling, come along.

Blue butterflies dancing with me,
Old stars come down to kiss the earth,
New silver bells ring… Victory!
Snowdrops announce the new Spring birth.

Cherry blossom rise in splendor,
As the winter slow surrender!

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Winter is getting on for the end

Grey snow,
flooded by the rays of sun,
thaws slowly,
in the rhythm of the spring birds music,
letting the earth
without its counterpane.

A snowdropp ventures
to raise its shoulders
over the little snow
that remained.

A snowdropp penetrates hardly
through the snow
that allows the snowdrop
to get a place,
and that bows
before a prince of spring.

From now on, winter

[...] Read more

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The Lute-Player

She was a lady great and splendid,
I was a minstrel in her halls.
A warrior like a prince attended
Stayed his steed by the castle walls.

Far had he fared to gaze upon her.
'O rest thee now, Sir Knight,' she said.
The warrior wooed, the warrior won her,
In time of snowdrops they were wed.
I made sweet music in his honour,
And longed to strike him dead.

I passed at midnight from her portal,
Throughout the world till death I rove:
Ah, let me make this lute immortal
With rapture of my hate and love!

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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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