My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water'd shoot; My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit; My heart is like a rainbow shell That paddles in a halcyon sea; My heart is gladder than all these, Because my love is come to me.
Oh, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In Englandnow!Robert Browning
I got me flowers to strewThy way, I got me boughs off many a tree; But Thou wast up by break of day, And brought'st Thy sweets along withThee.George Herbert
Beneath the crisp and wintry carpet hidA million buds but stay their blossomingAnd trustful birds have built their nests amidThe shuddering boughs, and only wait to singTill one soft shower from the south shall bidAnd hither tempt the pilgrim steps of Spring.robert bridges
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:I cannot say what loves have come and gone,I only know that summer sang in meA little while, that in me sings no more.edna st. vincent millay
I saw thee in a vision of the night Transfigured; for it seemed that on thy brows The heavens did rest with all their stars, like boughs Laden with blossoms; round thy feet the bright Green waves, like grass, ran rippling, strewn with white Star-fragments of rent petals: wasted vows, And ruined prayers I thought them, such as house In hearts that love and are not loved aright.john evelyn barlas
It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard; It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.lord byron
He seem'd as lithe and free and tall And restless as the boughs that stir Perpetual topt poplar trees. And one, that one, had eyes to teach The art of love, and tongue to preach Life's hard and sober homilies; And yet his eager hands, his speech, All spoke the bold adventurer; While zoned about the belt of each There swung a girt of steel, till all Did seem a walking arsenal.joaquin miller
O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep, Nature's observatory whence the dell, In flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell, May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep 'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.john keats
The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.Edmund Waller
Superfluous branches We lop away, that bearing boughs may live.william shakespeare
Is it where the flow'r of the orange blows, And the fireflies dance thro' the myrtle boughs?felicia hemans
Oh to be in England now that April's there. And whoever wakes in England sees some morning, unaware. That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, while the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough in England - now!Robert Browning
The rugged trees are mingling Their flowery sprays in love, The ivy climbs the laurel To clasp the boughs above.william cullen bryant
When the sappy boughs Attire themselves with blooms, sweet rudiments Of future harvest.
Farther on, there frowned a grove of blended banian boughs, thick-ranked manchineels, and many a upas; their summits gilded by the sun; but below, deep shadows, darkening night-shade ferns, and mandrakes.
It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard; It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whispered word; And gentle winds, and waters near, Make music to the lonely ear. Each flower the dews have lightly wet, And in the sky the stars are met, And on the wave is deeper blue, And on the leaf a browner hue, And in the heaven that clear obscure, So softly dark, and darkly pure. Which follows the decline of day, As twilight melts beneath the moon away.lord byron
Invite the rook who high amid the boughs, In early spring, his airy city builds, And ceaseless caws amusive.james thomson
Such phantom blossoms palely shining Over the lifeless boughs of Time.
Whate'er you are, That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever you have look’d on better days, If ever been where bells have knoll’d to church, If ever sat at any good man’s feast, If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear, And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied Let gentleness my strong enforcement be.
It is the winterwind that blows, wailing all night long, wailing for the far-off day; the branches toss, the boughs sway, it is the winterwind that blows... And the winds of winter sing a song of loneliness and silent sorrow; echo-less their lament dies away over the empty veld in the night, sighing through the grass seeds, and drawn is far away.