Son Poems - Poems For Son

Poems about son. You can read the best son poems. Browse through all son poems.


Rose The Red And White Lily - Poem by Andrew Lang

O Rose the Red and White Lilly,
Their mother dear was dead,
And their father married an ill woman,
Wishd them twa little guede.

Yet she had twa as fu fair sons
As eer brake manis bread,
And the tane of them loed her White Lilly,
And the tither lood Rose the Red.

O, biggit ha they a bigly bowr,
And strawn it oer wi san,
And there was mair mirth i the ladies' bowr
Than in a' their father's lan.

But out it spake their step-mother,
Wha stood a little foreby:
'I hope to live and play the prank
Sal gar your loud sang ly.'

She's calld upon her eldest son:
'Come here, my son, to me;
It fears me sair, my eldest son,
That ye maun sail the sea.'

'Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear,
Your bidding I maun dee;
But be never war to Rose the Red
Than ye ha been to me.'

'O had your tongue, my eldest son,
For sma sal be her part;
You'll nae get a kiss o her comely mouth
Gin your very fair heart should break.'

She's calld upon her youngest son:
'Come here, my son, to me;
It fears me sair, my youngest son,
That ye maun sail the sea.'

'Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear,
Your bidding I maun dee;
But be never war to White Lilly
Than ye ha been to me.'

'O haud your tongue, my youngest son,
For sma sall be her part;
You'll neer get a kiss o her comely mouth
Tho your very fair heart should break.'

When Rose the Red and White Lilly
Saw their twa loves were gane,
Then stopped ha they their loud, loud sang,
And tane up the still moarnin;
And their step-mother stood listnin by,
To hear the ladies' mean.

Then out it spake her, White Lily;
'My sister, we'll be gane;
Why shou'd we stay in Barnsdale,
To waste our youth in pain?'

Then cutted ha they their green cloathing,
A little below their knee;
And sae ha they their yallow hair,
A little aboon there bree;
And they've doen them to haely chapel
Was christened by Our Ladye.

There ha they changed their ain twa names,
Sae far frae ony town;
And the tane o them hight Sweet Willy,
And the tither o them Roge the Roun.

Between this twa a vow was made,
An they sware it to fulfil;
That at three blasts o a buglehorn,
She'd come her sister till.

Now Sweet Willy's gane to the kingis court,
Her true-love for to see,
And Roge the Roun to good green wood,
Brown Robin's man to be.

As it fell out upon a day,
They a did put the stane;
Full seven foot ayont them a
She gard the puttin-stane gang.

She leand her back against an oak,
And gae a loud Ohone!
Then out it spake him Brown Robin,
'But that's a woman's moan!'

'Oh, ken ye by my red rose lip?
Or by my yallow hair;
Or ken ye by my milk-white breast?
For ye never saw it bare?'

'I ken no by your red rose lip,
Nor by your yallow hair;
Nor ken I by your milk-white breast,
For I never saw it bare;
But, come to your bowr whaever sae likes,
Will find a ladye there.'

'Oh, gin ye come to my bowr within,
Thro fraud, deceit, or guile,
Wi this same bran that's in my han
I swear I will thee kill.'

'But I will come thy bowr within,
An spear nae leave,' quoth he;
'An this same bran that's i my ban,
I sall ware back on the.'

About the tenth hour of the night,
The ladie's bowr door was broken,
An eer the first hour of the day
The bonny knave bairn was gotten.

When days were gane and months were run,
The ladye took travailing,
And sair she cry'd for a bow'r-woman,
For to wait her upon.

Then out it spake him, Brown Robin:
'Now what needs a' this din?
For what coud any woman do
But I coud do the same?'

'Twas never my mither's fashion,' she says,
'Nor sall it ever be mine,
That belted knights shoud eer remain
Where ladies dreed their pine.

'But ye take up that bugle-horn,
An blaw a blast for me;
I ha a brother i the kingis court
Will come me quickly ti.'

'O gin ye ha a brither on earth
That ye love better nor me,
Ye blaw the horn yoursel,' he says,
'For ae blast I winna gie.'

She's set the horn till her mouth,
And she's blawn three blasts sae shrill;
Sweet Willy heard i the kingis court,
And came her quickly till.

Then up it started Brown Robin,
An an angry man was he:
'There comes nae man this bowr within
But first must fight wi me.'

O they hae fought that bowr within
Till the sun was gaing down,
Till drops o blude frae Rose the Red
Cam trailing to the groun.

She leand her back against the wa,
Says, 'Robin, let a' be;
For it is a lady born and bred
That's foughten sae well wi thee.'

O seven foot he lap a back;
Says, 'Alas, and wae is me!
I never wisht in a' my life,
A woman's blude to see;
An ae for the sake of ae fair maid
Whose name was White Lilly.'

Then out it spake her White Lilly,
An a hearty laugh laugh she:
'She's lived wi you this year an mair,
Tho ye kenntna it was she.'

Now word has gane thro a' the lan,
Before a month was done,
That Brown Robin's man, in good green wood,
Had born a bonny young son.

The word has gane to the kingis court,
An to the king himsel;
'Now, by my fay,' the king could say,
'The like was never heard tell!'

Then out it spake him Bold Arthur,
An a hearty laugh laugh he:
'I trow some may has playd the loun,
And fled her ain country.'

'Bring me my steed,' then cry'd the king,
'My bow and arrows keen;
I'll ride mysel to good green wood,
An see what's to be seen.'

'An't please your grace,' said Bold Arthur,
'My liege, I'll gang you wi,
An try to fin a little foot-page,
That's strayd awa frae me.'

O they've hunted i the good green wood
The buck but an the rae,
An they drew near Brown Robin's bowr,
About the close of day.

Then out it spake the king in hast,
Says, 'Arthur look an see
Gin that be no your little foot-page
That leans against yon tree.'

Then Arthur took his bugle-horn,
An blew a blast sae shrill;
Sweet Willy started at the sound,
An ran him quickly till.

'O wanted ye your meat, Willy?
Or wanted ye your fee?
Or gat ye ever an angry word,
That ye ran awa frae me?'

'I wanted nought, my master dear;
To me ye ay was good;
I came but to see my ae brother,
That wons in this green wood.'

Then out it spake the king again,
Says, 'Bonny boy, tell to me,
Wha lives into yon bigly bowr,
Stands by yon green oak tree?'

'Oh, pardon me,' says Sweet Willie,
'My liege, I dare no tell;
An I pray you go no near that bowr,
For fear they do you fell.'

'Oh, haud your tongue, my bonny boy,
For I winna be said nay;
But I will gang that bowr within,
Betide me weal or wae.'

They've lighted off their milk-white steeds,
An saftly enterd in,
And there they saw her White Lilly,
Nursing her bonny young son.

'Now, by the rood,' the king coud say,
'This is a comely sight;
I trow, instead of a forrester's man,
This is a lady bright!'

Then out it spake her, Rose the Red,
An fell low down on her knee:
'Oh, pardon us, my gracious liege,
An our story I'll tell thee.

'Our father was a wealthy lord,
That wond in Barnsdale;
But we had a wicked step-mother,
That wrought us meickle bale.

'Yet she had twa as fu fair sons
As ever the sun did see,
An the tane of them lood my sister dear,
An the tother said he lood me.'

Then out it spake him Bold Arthur,
As by the king he stood:
'Now, by the faith o my body,
This shoud be Rose the Red!'

Then in it came him Brown Robin,
Frae hunting O the deer;
But whan he saw the king was there,
He started back for fear.

The king has taen him by the hand,
An bide him naithing dread;
Says, 'Ye maun leave the good greenwood,
Come to the court wi speed.'

Then up he took White Lilly's son,
An set him on his knee;
Says--'Gin ye live to wield a bran,
My bowman ye sall bee.'

The king he sent for robes of green,
An girdles o shinning gold;
He gart the ladies be arrayd
Most comely to behold.

They've done them unto Mary kirk,
An there gat fair wedding,
An fan the news spread oer the lan,
For joy the bells did ring.

Then out it spake her Rose the Red,
An a hearty laugh laugh she:
'I wonder what would our step-dame say,
Gin she his sight did see!'


Comments about Rose The Red And White Lily by Andrew Lang

There is no comment submitted by members..

Poems About Son

  1. 1. Rose The Red And White Lily , Andrew Lang
  2. 2. La Chronique Ascendante Des Ducs De Norm.. , Wace
  3. 3. Without My Son , Nakia Crespin
  4. 4. My Son , Misty Talbot
  5. 5. Dad And Son , JeanFrancois Denis
  6. 6. Fingal - Book Iv , James Macpherson
  7. 7. ...A Showcase For Ph Poets: February 201.. , Bri Edwards
  8. 8. Beowulf , Anonymous Works
  9. 9. Fingal - Book Vi , James Macpherson
  10. 10. Father, Son, Spirit , Teresa Gonzalez-Lee
  11. 11. The Odyssey: Book 11 , Homer
  12. 12. The Manuscript Of Saint Alexius , Augusta Davies Webster
  13. 13. Comala, A Dramatic Poem , James Macpherson
  14. 14. Dar-Thula , James Macpherson
  15. 15. Temora - Book Ii , James Macpherson
  16. 16. L’invention , Andre Marie de Chenier
  17. 17. The Iliad: Book 13 , Homer
  18. 18. A Pair Of Eyes , Heather Burns
  19. 19. My Favorite Anecdote From Urdu , S.zaynub Kamoonpuri
  20. 20. Cathlin Of Clutha , James Macpherson
  21. 21. Oithona , James Macpherson
  22. 22. Ch 03 On The Excellence Of Contentment S.. , Saadi Shirazi
  23. 23. L’art Des Transports De L’ame , Andre Marie de Chenier
  24. 24. Fingal - Book Iii , James Macpherson
  25. 25. To The Others , Katharine Tynan
  26. 26. The Heritage , James Russell Lowell
  27. 27. The Four Monarchyes, The Assyrian Being .. , Anne Bradstreet
  28. 28. A True Story Of Love , Pirate Love Magic Man
  29. 29. A Hero's Grave , Sydney Thompson Dobell
  30. 30. Temora - Book I , James Macpherson
  31. 31. A Lesson In Drawing , White Rose
  32. 32. Temora - Book Iii , James Macpherson
  33. 33. Ch 06 On Weakness And Old Age Story 03 , Saadi Shirazi
  34. 34. Berrathah , James Macpherson
  35. 35. A Showcase For Ph Poets: February 2015: .. , Bri Edwards
  36. 36. Genesis Bk Xviii , Caedmon
  37. 37. The Absent-Minded Beggar , Rudyard Kipling
  38. 38. Le Mendiant , Andre Marie de Chenier
  39. 39. ' The Son-Flower... ' , MoonBee Canady
  40. 40. My Son, My Precious One , Sally Campbell
  41. 41. Cathloda — Duan Iii , James Macpherson
  42. 42. The Odyssey , Homer
  43. 43. Ô Qu'Heureux Est Celui Qui Peut Passer S.. , Joachim du Bellay
  44. 44. Carric-Thura , James Macpherson
  45. 45. The Odyssey: Book 4 , Homer
  46. 46. The Mother Exultant , Adelaide Crapsey
  47. 47. My Love Is Thine , Ernestine Northover
  48. 48. To G. M. W. And G. F. W. , Ellis Parker Butler
  49. 49. Conlath And Cuthona , James Macpherson
  50. 50. Y..... Zebra , Aufie Zophy
[Hata Bildir]