Sighing softly to the river
Comes the loving breeze,
Setting nature all a-quiver,
Rustling through the trees!
And the brook in rippling measure
Laughs for very love,
While the poplars, in their pleasure,
Wave their arms above!
River, river, little river,
May thy loving prosper ever.
Heaven speed thee, poplar tree,
May thy wooing happy be!
Yet, the breeze is but a rover,
When he wings away,
Brook and poplar mourn a lover!
Ah, the doing and undoing
That the rogue could tell!
When the breeze is out a-wooing,
Who can woo so well?
Pretty brook, thy dream is over,
For thy love is but a rover!
Sad the lot of poplar trees,
Courted by the fickle breeze!
William Schwenck Gilbert, born in London in 1836, was the son of a retired naval surgeon. Except for a kidnapping by Italian brigands in Italy at age two, and a ransomed release, he appears to have had a very normal upbringing. Beyond ordinary schooling, he took training as an artillery officer and was tutored in military science with hopes of participating in the Crimean War. Unfortunately for him, but not for us, he did not graduate until after the War was over. Gilbert subsequently joined the militia and was a member for 20 years. After finishing his military training Gilbert... Read more...
Akhtar ul Iman (Urdu: اختر الایمان) was a noted Urdu poet and screenwriter in Hindi cinema, who had major influence on modern Urdu nazm.
He won the Filmfare Award for Best Dialogue in 1963 for Dharmputra and 1966 for Waqt. He was awarded the 1962 Sahitya Akademi Award in Urdu,...
Gud Hellig-Aand! i Tro os lær
Vor Frelser-Mand alene
Af Hjertet ret at have kiær,
Og Hannem saa at tjene,
At vi fra Dødens Grumhed maae
I Herrens Liv den Redning faae,
Hans Død os dyrt fortjende!
Giv, at din sunde Lærdoms Kraft