The Garden Of Love

I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen; A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this Chapel were shut And 'Thou shalt not,' writ over the door; So I turned to the Garden of Love That so many sweet flowers bore.

Beautiful Butterfly

In a beautiful butterfly, Your face comes so true to me. Through a pretty butterfly You come flying so serene into me. As the tiny wings flutter I watch with love and joy and wonder how it could be that I see your face coming to me.

Again And Again

Again and again, however we know the landscape of love and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names, and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others fall: again and again the two of us walk out together under the ancient trees, lie down again and again among the flowers, face to face with the sky.

Laughter And Tears Ix

As the Sun withdrew his rays from the garden, and the moon threw cushioned beams upon the flowers, I sat under the trees pondering upon the phenomena of the atmosphere, looking through the branches at the strewn stars which glittered like chips of silver upon a blue carpet; and I could hear from a distance the agitated murmur of the rivulet singing its way briskly into the valley. When the birds took shelter among the boughs, and the flowers folded their petals, and tremendous silence descended, I heard a rustle of feet though the grass. I took heed and saw a young couple approaching my arbor. The say under a tree where I could see them without being seen.

Colored Toys

When I bring to you colored toys, my child, I understand why there is such a play of colors on clouds, on water, and why flowers are painted in tints - -when I give colored toys to you, my child. When I sing to make you dance I truly now why there is music in leaves, and why waves send their chorus of voices to the heart of the listening earth - -when I sing to make you dance.

Spring Pools

These pools that, though in forests, still reflect The total sky almost without defect, And like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver, Will like the flowers beside them soon be gone, And yet not out by any brook or river, But up by roots to bring dark foliage on. The trees that have it in their pent-up buds To darken nature and be summer woods - Let them think twice before they use their powers

Again And Again, However We Know The Landscape Of Love

Again and again, however we know the landscape of love and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names, and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others fall: again and again the two of us walk out together under the ancient trees, lie down again and again among the flowers, face to face with the sky. Translated by Stephen Mitchell

Oh! Flower, I Feel Sorry For You! ! !

I saw a nice little flower… Enjoying herself in the nice warm fields… The place felt fine, what a beautiful sight! ! Why didn't it come yesterday? ! But the joy didn't last long enough…what a pity! ‘Cause the flower was plucked away! ! ! It was no longer there So was the beauty How gloomy the place felt now for sight! ! Why do flowers bloom, if it has to be murdered this way? ?

Without You

Without you every morning would feel like going back to work after a holiday, Without you I couldn't stand the smell of the East Lancs Road, Without you ghost ferries would cross the Mersey manned by skeleton crews, Without you I'd probably feel happy and have more money and time and nothing to do with it, Without you I'd have to leave my stillborn poems on other people's doorsteps, wrapped in brown paper, Without you there'd never be sauce to put on sausage butties, Without you plastic flowers in shop windows would just be plastic flowers in shop windows,

God's Garden

God made a beatous garden With lovely flowers strown, But one straight, narrow pathway That was not overgrown. And to this beauteous garden He brought mankind to live, And said: 'To you, my children, These lovely flowers I give. Prune ye my vines and fig trees, With care my flowerets tend,

"Me Thinks This Heart..."

Me thinks this heart should rest awhile So stilly round the evening falls The veiled sun sheds no parting smile Nor mirth nor music wakes my Halls I have sat lonely all the day Watching the drizzly mist descend And first conceal the hills in grey And then along the valleys wend

'Fall, Leaves, Fall'

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night's decay Ushers in a drearier day.

November

No sun - no moon! No morn - no noon - No dawn - no dusk - no proper time of day. No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease, No comfortable feel in any member - No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds! - November!

The Flower-School

When storm-clouds rumble in the sky and June showers come down. The moist east wind comes marching over the heath to blow its bagpipes among the bamboos. Then crowds of flowers come out of a sudden, from nobody knows where, and dance upon the grass in wild glee. Mother, I really think the flowers go to school underground. They do their lessons with doors shut, and if they want to come out to play before it is time, their master makes them stand in a corner. When the rain come they have their holidays.

A Pause

They made the chamber sweet with flowers and leaves, And the bed sweet with flowers on which I lay; While my soul, love-bound, loitered on its way. I did not hear the birds about the eaves, Nor hear the reapers talk among the sheaves: Only my soul kept watch from day to day, My thirsty soul kept watch for one away:-- Perhaps he loves, I thought, remembers, grieves. At length there came the step upon the stair, Upon the lock the old familiar hand:

The Wind, One Brilliant Day

The wind, one brilliant day, called to my soul with an odor of jasmine. 'In return for the odor of my jasmine, I'd like all the odor of your roses.' 'I have no roses; all the flowers in my garden are dead.' 'Well then, I'll take the withered petals

The Forest Reverie

'Tis said that when The hands of men Tamed this primeval wood, And hoary trees with groans of woe, Like warriors by an unknown foe, Were in their strength subdued, The virgin Earth Gave instant birth To springs that ne'er did flow That in the sun Did rivulets run, And all around rare flowers did blow

In Hardwood Groves

The same leaves over and over again! They fall from giving shade above To make one texture of faded brown And fit the earth like a leather glove. Before the leaves can mount again To fill the trees with another shade, They must go down past things coming up. They must go down into the dark decayed.

In Tintagel Graveyard

Who brought flowers to this grave? I, said the wren. I brought them as seeds and then Watched them grow. No, said the wind. That's not true. I blew them across the moor and sea, I blew them up to the grave's door. They were a gift from me.

(1) A Friendship Bridge

You made me love the teachings of Tagore. My thoughts were mesmerized by your sitar. I kept the little flowers from India, Artfully pressed to span a century. Creative journeys never really end. Our era is a lamp that still burns on. I send some thoughts like flowers overseas Their fragrance will outlast both you and me.