Carnegie Hill Village
Staying connected in your own community
II THE PINE OF MONTE MARIO AT ROME
I saw far off the dark top of a Pine
Look like a cloud--a slender stem the tie
That bound it to its native earth--poised high
'Mid evening hues, along the horizon line,
Lines of lamp-light
Splinter the black water,
And all through
The dim park
Are lamps
Hanging among the trees.
But they are only like fire-flies
Pricking the darkness,
And I lean my body against it
And spread out my fingers
To let it drift through them.
Hey Frances, I don't know about you but
I kinda need a break
Maybe a trip or something
Fly me to the moon
Let me play up there with those stars
Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, baby, kiss me
If everybody had an ocean
Across the U. S. A.
Then everybody'd be surfin'
Like Californi-a
You'd seem 'em wearing their baggies
Huarache sandals too
A bushy bushy blonde hairdo
Look at me, I'm as helpless as a kitten up a tree
And I feel like I'm clinging to a cloud, I can't understand
I get misty, just holding your hand
Walk my way, and a thousand violins begin to play
Or it might be the sound of your hello, that music I hear
I HAVE not told my garden yet,
Lest that should conquer me;
I have not quite the strength now
To break it to the bee.
I will not name it in the street,
For shops would stare, that I,
So shy, so very ignorant,
Should have the face to die.
I HAVE not told my garden yet,
Lest that should conquer me;
I have not quite the strength now
To break it to the bee.
I will not name it in the street,
For shops would stare, that I,
So shy, so very ignorant,
Should have the face to die.
Who’s this—alone with stone and sky?
It’s only my old dog and I—
It’s only him; it’s only me;
Alone with stone and grass and tree.
What share we most—we two together?
Smells, and awareness of the weather.
What is it makes us more than dust?