Quotes About Nature

When Green Buds Hang in the Elm Like Dust When green buds hang in the elm like dust And sprinkle the lime like rain, Forth I wander, forth I must, And drink of life again. Forth I must by hedgerow bowers To look at the leaves uncurled, And stand in the fields where cuckoo-flowers Are lying about the world.

From far, from eve and morning And yon twelve-winded sky, The stuff of life to knit me Blew hither: here am I. Now--for a breath I tarry Nor yet disperse apart-- Take my hand quick and tell me, What have you in your heart. Speak now, and I will answer; How shall I help you, say; Ere to the wind's twelve quarters I take my endless way.

First don: O cuckoo, shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice? Second don: State the alternative preferred, With reasons for your choice.

Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me.

Tis the old wind in the old anger, But then it threshed another wood.

By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade.

I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone.

LOVELIEST of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough, And stands about the woodland ride Wearing white for Eastertide.

Stars, I have seen them fall, But when they drop and die No star is lost at all From all the star-sown sky. The toil of all that be Helps not the primal fault; It rains into the sea And still the sea is salt.

Give me a land of boughs in leaf A land of trees that stand; Where trees are fallen there is grief; I love no leafless land.

With Rue My Heart Is Laden With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade.

Stone, steel, dominions pass, Faith too, no wonder; So leave alone the grass That I am under.

Oh fair enough are sky and plain, But I know fairer far: Those are as beautiful again That in the water are; The pools and rivers wash so clean The trees and clouds and air, The like on earth was never seen, And oh that I were there. These are the thoughts I often think As I stand gazing down In act upon the cressy brink To strip and dive and drown; But in the golden-sanded brooks And azure meres I spy A silly lad that longs and looks And wishes he were I.

The Earth is nothing but phlegm spat out by the Sun, and our immediate solar system a whirlwind of boulders. There is no delicate balance.

The old gods have the beauty and goodness of the sun, the sea, the wind, the mountains, great wild animals; splendid, powerful, and dangerous realities that do not come within the sphere of human morality, and are in no way concerned about the human race.

If you wanted reflections on the nature of the universe and your place in it, you should have stayed in school. You want fart noises and cock jokes, I'm your man.

Pre-high tech, objects thunked and crashed and clopped, amid a thunder of drums, a tumult of trumpets. Today things beep and cheep and whistle. We have come from the roar of the lion to the chirp of the tree frog, ceaselessly bleating our identities while the frog-eating bats hover above us.

Shape? Does a fog have shape? Does the twilight? Does the onset of darkness?

Where I am going, nothing of me will remain: yet, I'll drift through the voices of coyotes, drip into florets by a mountain rock.

Small boys often produce their own plays; but usually the parts are not written out. They hardly need to be, for the main line of each character is always "Stick 'em up!" In these plays the curtain is always rung down on a set of corpses, for small boys are by nature through and uncompromising.

I set an essay . . . 'Give a snail's description from the front door to the school gate.

Bir denizi, bir evi, bir a?ac? yok dü?ünebilir miyiz? ?iirin de böyle varolmas?. Bence ?iirin bu dedi?im yoldan varolmas?na en büyük engel anlamd?r. Nitekim denizin varolmas? da, onu d???m?zda dü?ünmekten vazgeçip, ya?am?m?za kar??t?rd???m?z zaman ba?lar. Bu çe?it varolmak onu anlamak istememizle ilgilidir

Bir ?iirde dizeler bir duvar?n ta?lar? gibidir. Ta?, bir duvarda nas?l ta? olmaktan ç?kmaz, yap?s?n?, do?as?n? korursa, dizeler de öyledir." ?lhan Berk, 'Poetika', sayfa 33

?yi bir ?iir anlamla yola ç?kmaya her zaman engeldir. Her ?eyden önce bir ?iirden düzyaz?dan anlad???m?z anlamda bir anlam beklemek, ona öyle yakla?mak ?iirin do?as?na ayk?r?d?r." ?lhan Berk, 'Poetika', sayfa 55