The Butterfly War by Dennis Allen Lange

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A butterfly that would a bomber be,
…To rise and take its load, as if a shell,
To drop upon the world the fragrancy
…Of petals, would spread peace and wish it well.

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photo by Photonut at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/2dQN59g/Butterfly

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

 

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The Song Of The Mountains by Dennis Lange

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Oh, peaceful Mountains where I’ve set my feet,
My eyes and ears drink in your flowing treat.
Each trail I take, each way I turn my head,
…Your streams are falling down around the stones
That lie asleep in their wet gurgling bed. 

In them, o’ Mountains, is your song to me,
An ever-restless rushed tranquility.
It must be that they calm both me and you.
…We ants sigh but, you Mountains, never moan.
You sit serenely, and with troubles few. 

Perhaps your song is not for me at all
But yours you can’t contain in joy’s thrall
And thus, your glee does find me, also bless,
…For I am cheered and cannot further groan.
We two then rise above the world’s distress. 

Oh, Mountains! I could listen all the day
To the glad songs your rippling rivers play.
Their melodies would slow my rushing soul
…From world’s swift pace to Nature’s own,
And heal my wounds and make me whole.

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The photo is mine, of a stream coming down a
slope of the Smoky Mountains.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.

 

 

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The Coral Grove by James Gates Percival

Deep in the wave is a coral grove,
Where the purple mullet, and gold-fish rove,
Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue,
That never are wet with falling dew,
But in bright and changeful beauty shine,
Far down in the green and glassy brine.
The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift,
And the pearl shells spangle the flinty snow;
From coral rocks the sea plants lift
Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow;
The water is calm and still below,
For the winds and waves are absent there,
And the sands are bright as the stars that glow
In the motionless fields of upper air:
There with its waving blade of green,
The sea-flag streams through the silent water,
And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen
To blush, like a banner bathed in slaughter:
There with a light and easy motion,
The fan-coral sweeps through the clear deep sea;
And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean,
Are bending like corn on the upland lea:
And life, in rare and beautiful forms,
Is sporting amid those bowers of stone,
And is safe, when the wrathful spirit of storms,
Has made the top of the wave his own:
And when the ship from his fury flies,
Where the myriad voices of ocean roar,
When the wind-god frowns in the murky skies,
And demons are waiting the wreck on shore;
Then far below in the peaceful sea,
The purple mullet, and gold-fish rove,
Where the waters murmur tranquilly,
Through the bending twigs of the coral grove.

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