On a picture of my father
I strive in vain those features to restore
To Memory's faded tablets, which on me,
From the mute ivory, beam so lovingly,
And to recall their living light once more.
In vain I strive to pierce that veil of years,
And turn away all blinded with my tears.
But sometimes when the garish day is passed,
And night and sleep their spell upon me cast,
Thou comest to me, my father, from above,
And then for that brief moment I am blest,
For I am folded to thy sheltering breast;
And in the sacred rapture of thy love
A holy spell is on my spirit laid:
This mighty hunger of my heart is stayed.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
As When From Dreams Awaking
AS when from dreams awaking
The dim forms float away
Whose visioned smiles were making
Our darkness bright as day;
We vainly strive, while weeping,
From their shining spirit track,
(Where they fled while we were sleeping,)
To call those dear ones back!
Like the stars, some power divides them
From a world of want and pain;
They are there, but daylight hides them,
And we look for them in vain.
For a while we dwell with sadness,
On the beauty of that dream,
Then turn, and hail with gladness
The light of morning's beam.
So, when memory's power is wringing
Our lonely hearts to tears,
Dim forms around us bringing
That brightened former years:
Fond looks and low words spoken,
Which those dreamy days could boast,
Rise; till the spell be broken,
We forget that they are lost!
But when the hour of darkness rolls
Like heavy night away;
And peace is stealing o'er our souls,
Like the dawn of summer day:
The dim sweet forms that used to bless,
Seem stealing from us too;
We loved them-but joy's sunniness
Hath hid them from our view!
Oh could day beam eternally,
And Memory's power cease,
This world, a world of light would be,
Our hearts were worlds of peace:
But dreams of joy return with night,
And dwell upon the past-
And every grief that clouds our light,
Reminds us of the last!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Comfort In Tears
How happens it that thou art sad,
While happy all appear?
Thine eye proclaims too well that thou
Hast wept full many a tear.
"If I have wept in solitude,
None other shares my grief,
And tears to me sweet balsam are,
And give my heart relief."
Thy happy friends invite thee now,--
Oh come, then, to our breast!
And let the loss thou hast sustain'd
Be there to us confess'd!
"Ye shout, torment me, knowing not
What 'tis afflicteth me;
Ah no! I have sustained no loss,
Whate'er may wanting be."
If so it is, arise in haste!
Thou'rt young and full of life.
At years like thine, man's blest with strength.
And courage for the strife.
"Ah no! in vain 'twould be to strive,
The thing I seek is far;
It dwells as high, it gleams as fair
As yonder glitt'ring star."
The stars we never long to clasp,
We revel in their light,
And with enchantment upward gaze,
Each clear and radiant night.
"And I with rapture upward gaze,
On many a blissful day;
Then let me pass the night in tears,
Till tears are wip'd away!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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November Fifth
Anniversary of the Loss of H.M.S. Tweed
Oh, what relief to gaze on yonder sky,
Where all is holy, calm, and purely bright!
Within, the sound of mirth and revelry
Startles the timid ear of sober night.
And eyes are bright and silver voices thrill,
As the harp echoes through the glittering hall;
The jest is there that wakes the laugh at will,
And mirth has cast her fairy spell o'er all.
I turn, fair spirit of light! where peaceful thou
Art shining in unatler'd majesty;
The thin clouds float across thy placid brow,
And catch its silver beam in passing by.
To-night!—oh! on this night—nor many years
Have wasted, since in sad regret and pain,
Upon the wave, the sound of woe, and tears,
And frantic pray'rs arose—arose in vain!
Thy light was shrouded then in deepest gloom;
On that dark coast no friendly radiance shone
To warn the victims of their gaping tomb—
Despair and death and horror reign'd alone!
Shine on, shine on, thou treacherous planet still;
Gild with thy beams the now untroubled wave:
Alas! thou fair and fatal cause of ill,
Thy smiles are lovely—but too late to save!
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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To The Eye
THRONE of expression! whence the spirit's ray
Pours forth so oft the light of mental day,
Where fancy's fire, affection's melting beam,
Thought, genius, passion, reign in turn supreme,
And many a feeling, words can ne'er impart,
Finds its own language to pervade the heart;
Thy power, bright orb, what bosom hath not felt,
To thrill, to rouse, to fascinate, to melt!
And by some spell of undefined control,
With magnet-influence touch the secret soul!
Light of the features! in the morn of youth
Thy glance is nature, and thy language truth;
And ere the world, with all-corrupting sway,
Hath taught e'en thee to flatter and betray,
The ingenuous heart forbids thee to reveal,
Or speak one thought that interest would conceal;
While yet thou seem'st the cloudless mirror, given
But to reflect the purity of heaven;
O! then how lovely, there unveil'd, to trace
The unsullied brightness of each mental grace!
When Genius lends thee all his living light,
Where the full beams of intellect unite;
When love illumes thee with his varying ray,
Where trembling Hope and tearful Rapture play;
Or Pity's melting cloud thy beam subdues,
Tempering its lustre with a veil of dews;
Still does thy power, whose all-commanding spell
Can pierce the mazes of the soul so well,
Bid some new feeling to existence start,
From its deep slumbers in the inmost heart.
And O! when thought, in ecstacy sublime,
That soars triumphant o'er the bounds of time,
Fires thy keen glance with inspiration's blaze,
The light of heaven, the hope of nobler days,
(As glorious dreams, for utterance far too high,
Flash through the mist of dim mortality
Who does not own, that through thy lightning-beams
A flame unquenchable, unearthly, streams?
That pure, though captive effluence of the sky,
The vestal-ray, the spark that cannot die!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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On The Death Of A Believer
In vain my fancy strives to paint
The moment after death
The glories that surround the saint,
When yielding up its breath.
One gentle sigh their fetters breaks,
We scarce can say, They're gone!
Before the willing spirit takes
Her mansion near the throne.
Faith strives, but all its efforts fail,
To trace her in her flight;
No eye can pierce within the veil
Which hides that world of light.
Thus much (and this is all) we know,
They are completely blest
Have done with sin, and care, and woe,
And with their Saviour rest.
On harps of gold they praise his name,
His face they always view;
Then let us follow'rs be of them,
That we may praise him too.
Their faith and patience, love and zeal,
Should make their memory dear;
And, Lord, do thou the prayers fulfil,
They offered for us here.
While they have gained, we losers are,
We miss them day by day;
But thou canst every breach repair,
And wipe our tears away.
We pray, as in Elisha's case,
When great Elijah went,
May double portions of thy grace,
To us who stay, be sent.
poem by John Newton
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The Maiden's Lament
The clouds fast gather,
The forest-oaks roar--
A maiden is sitting
Beside the green shore,--
The billows are breaking with might, with might,
And she sighs aloud in the darkling night,
Her eyelid heavy with weeping.
"My heart's dead within me,
The world is a void;
To the wish it gives nothing,
Each hope is destroyed.
I have tasted the fulness of bliss below
I have lived, I have loved,--Thy child, oh take now,
Thou Holy One, into Thy keeping!"
"In vain is thy sorrow,
In vain thy tears fall,
For the dead from their slumbers
They ne'er can recall;
Yet if aught can pour comfort and balm in thy heart,
Now that love its sweet pleasures no more can impart,
Speak thy wish, and thou granted shalt find it!"
"Though in vain is my sorrow,
Though in vain my tears fall,--
Though the dead from their slumbers
They ne'er can recall,
Yet no balm is so sweet to the desolate heart,
When love its soft pleasures no more can impart,
As the torments that love leaves behind it!"
poem by Friedrich Schiller
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The Earth Laments for Day
THERE’S music wafting on the air,
The evening winds are sighing
Among the trees—and yonder stream
Is mournfully replying,
Lamenting loud the sunny light
That in the west is dying.
The moon is rising o’er the hill,
Her slanting rays are creeping
Where Nature lies profoundly still
In happy quiet sleeping,
And resting on her face, they’ll find
The earth is wet with weeping.
She mourneth for the lovely day,
Now deep in darkness shaded;
She sheds the dewy tear because
Of morning’s mantle faded;
She misses from her breast the garb
In which the moon array’d it.
The evening queen will strive in vain
To break the spell which bound her;
A million stars can never throw
Departed warmth around her;
They all must pass away and leave
The earth as they had found her.
But why should gentle Nature weep
That night has overtaken
The wearied world that needed sleep,
Refreshed to re-awaken,
So richer light might burst around,
The gloomy shadows breaking?
Oh, can she not from yonder sky
That gleams above her, borrow
A single ray, or find a way
To check the tear of sorrow?
A beam of hope would last her till
The dawning of to-morrow.
poem by Henry Kendall
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Israphel
A dreamer midst the stars doth dwell,
Known to the gods as Israphel.
His heart-strings are a lute;
And when, the magic notes outpouring,
He parts his lips, the gods, adoring,
Listen in transport mute,
Subdued and softened by the spell
Of the dreamer, Israphel!
And mortals, when they hear him, start,
And, full of wonder, call him—Art,
And, fain his gift to gain,
Essay to imitate the fashion
Of his rare song, and breathe its passion,—
But, ah, they strive in vain;
For his song is more than art,
Whose lute-strings are his heart!
And others, unto whom he wings
The sweetest melodies he sings,
In worship, name him—Love;
Yet longing the pure strain to capture,
When at the very height of rapture,
A sadness oft approve,
And fancy, strangely, that he wrings
The music from their own heart-strings!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Love In Vain
Long night, too long and lonely
Laying there asking myself
Hey, what's going on with you and me
How could I be so unaware
So blind I could not see
Knowing you'd be there
And always would be
Is anyone to blame but me
I've been so concerned with myself
Now I need you desperately
If you've fallen for another
Let's be honest with each other
Is there still a chance
And maybe hope to save our romance
We can't be strangers
You mean too much to me
I won't let this be a love in vain
Don't want the loneliness
Of just a memory
I don't want a love in vain
Just one more night, I want to spend with you
We'll let our hearts do the talking
Like we used to do
We'll make our first kiss last forever
Put the pieces back together
'Cause there's still a chance
There may be hope to save our romance
We can't be strangers
You mean to much to me
I won't let this be a love in vain, don't want a love in vain
I don't want the loneliness
Of just a memory
Don't want a love in vain
Oh, woman look what you've done to me
I'll show you how this love should be
Don't let it be a love in vain
Please don't, don't you know
You got my heart on a string
Don't let go
Don't let this love be a love in vain
We can't be strangers
It's not our destiny
I won't let this be a love in vain, don't want a love in vain
Don't want the loneliness
Of just a memory
Don't let this be a love in vain
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The True Knowledge
Thou knowest all; I seek in vain
What lands to till or sow with seed -
The land is black with briar and weed,
Nor cares for falling tears or rain.
Thou knowest all; I sit and wait
With blinded eyes and hands that fail,
Till the last lifting of the veil
And the first opening of the gate.
Thou knowest all; I cannot see.
I trust I shall not live in vain,
I know that we shall meet again
In some divine eternity.
poem by Oscar Wilde
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A Hymn
Eternal power of earth and air,
Unseen, yet seen in all around,
Remote, but dwelling everywhere,
Though silent, heard in every sound.
If e'er thine ear in mercy bent
When wretched mortals cried to thee,
And if indeed thy Son was sent
To save lost sinners such as me.
Then hear me now, while kneeling here;
I lift to thee my heart and eye
And all my soul ascends in prayer;
O give me - give me Faith I cry.
Without some glimmering in my heart,
I could not raise this fervent prayer;
But O a stronger light impart,
And in thy mercy fix it there!
While Faith is with me I am blest;
It turns my darkest night to day;
But while I clasp it to my breast
I often feel it slide away.
Then cold and dark my spirit sinks,
To see my light of life depart,
And every fiend of Hell methinks
Enjoys the anguish of my heart.
What shall I do if all my love,
My hopes, my toil, are cast away,
And if there be no God above
To hear and bless me when I pray?
If this be vain delusion all,
If death be an eternal sleep,
And none can hear my secret call,
Or see the silent tears I weep.
O help me God! for thou alone
Canst my distracted soul relieve;
Forsake it not -- it is thine own,
Though weak yet longing to believe.
O drive these cruel doubts away
And make me know that thou art God;
A Faith that shines by night and day
Will lighten every earthly load.
If I believe that Jesus died
And waking rose to reign above,
Then surely Sorrow, Sin and Pride
Must yield to peace and hope and love.
And all the blessed words he said
Will strength and holy joy impart,
A shield of safety o'er my head,
A spring of comfort in my heart.
poem by Anne Brontë
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In Laughter Live
Each one in turn tests life’s allotted cell,
base line from which wills strive to win wide world.
On each Chance, Time, crime's partners, cast fell spell
churn Fortune’s tides, rides so diversely swirled.
What if we seem to prosper for a spell,
do well from womb - too soon in tomb we’re curled,
and what came first, the chicken or its shell?
Oft, final ends surprise, by Time unfurled.
What hope of Heaven if there be no Hell?
We ask, “Could God exist? ” as swift we whirl
across bane bridge Coincidence pell-mell
haphazardly casts on life’s vain pain pearl.
Make every moment matter, dark expel,
in laughter live until death's tocsin knell.
7 May 1989 latest revision 15 May 2009
robi03_0252_robi03_0000 SXX_CDZ
for previous version see below
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
In Laughter Live
Each one of us has his allotted cell,
a base from which to conquer all the world.
On each do Chance and Time cast secret spell
on Fortune’s tide are all diversely swirled.
What if we seem to prosper for a spell,
do well from womb - too soon in tomb we’re curled,
and what came first, the chicken or its shell?
Oft, final ends surprise, by Time unfurled.
What hope of Heaven if there be no Hell?
We ask, « Does God exist? » as we are whirled
across the bridge Coincidence pell-mell,
haphazardly light throws light on life’s pearl.
Make every moment matter, dark expel,
in laughter live until the final knell!
7 May 1989
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Aurobindo 137 Savitri Book 10
An appreciation on Savitri-
Book Ten: The Book of the Double Twilight
Canto One: The Dream Twilight of the Ideal
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's
'All still was darkness dread and desolate; '
'It was as if she must pay now her debt,
Her vain presumption to exist and think,
To some brilliant Maya that conceived her soul.'
'In that tremendous darkness heavy and bare
She atoned for all since the first act whence sprang
The error of the consciousness of Time,
The rending of the Inconscient's seal of sleep, '
'Accursed in what had been her godhead source,
Condemned to live for ever empty of bliss,
Her immortality her chastisement,
Her spirit, guilty of being, wandered doomed,
Moving for ever through eternal Night.
But Maya is a veil of the Absolute; '
'The inconscient world is the spirit's self-made room,
Eternal Night shadow of eternal Day.'....
What definition else could be more appropriate
Than Thou words to beautify Inconscience..?
'Night is not our beginning nor our end;
We came to her from a supernal Light,
By Light we live and to the Light we go.
Here in this seat of Darkness mute and lone,
In the heart of everlasting Nothingness
Light conquered now even by that feeble beam: '
'A golden fire came in and burned Night's heart; '
'The Inconscient conscious grew, Night felt and thought.'
'Passed was the heaviness of the eyeless dark
And all the sorrow of the night was dead: '
'Surprised by a blind joy with groping hands'
'She slipped; there far-off raptures drew more close'...
............My consciousness this moment,
O'Guru, I'm in awe....in invincible heights
Ineffable Thee embellishing poetic creation
My inquisitive apprehension, erring Thee may opine
May thereso, let Savitri in my self arise
Aroused thereso be knowledge and fortune
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Casting A Spell
LA'-LA-E/LA-LA'-E'
Oi
Maria mondou me dizer
Maria mondou me dizer
Nao (eu) quero falar com voce
Oi
She's just testing her wings and if you give in to her, you'll be just another feather in her cap-she'll drop you in a flash.
She's casting a spell, she's casting a spell, well if she's casting a spell, I can castone as well.
So I said. "No, no, no, I ain't falling for this!
This girl is built to tease; she's only testing the efficiency of her kiss."
She's casting a spell.
Well, if she's casting a spell; I can cast one as well.
She wants to check out how you check out on her test-bed:
Will you get in her book or will you go right to her head?
She's casting a spell.
Well, if she's casting a spell; I can cast one as well.
And so, I cast it right back on her, don't you know my luck; she fell under the influence and then the thunder struck.
Now we're casting a spell, we're casting a spell-you can cast one as well!
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Doubter's Prayer
Eternal Power, of earth and air!
Unseen, yet seen in all around,
Remote, but dwelling everywhere,
Though silent, heard in every sound.
If e'er thine ear in mercy bent,
When wretched mortals cried to Thee,
And if, indeed, Thy Son was sent,
To save lost sinners such as me:
Then hear me now, while, kneeling here,
I lift to thee my heart and eye,
And all my soul ascends in prayer,
Oh, give me - give me Faith! I cry.
Without some glimmering in my heart,
I could not raise this fervent prayer;
But, oh! a stronger light impart,
And in Thy mercy fix it there.
While Faith is with me, I am blest;
It turns my darkest night to day;
But while I clasp it to my breast,
I often feel it slide away.
Then, cold and dark, my spirit sinks,
To see my light of life depart;
And every fiend of Hell, methinks,
Enjoys the anguish of my heart.
What shall I do, if all my love,
My hopes, my toil, are cast away,
And if there be no God above,
To hear and bless me when I pray?
If this be vain delusion all,
If death be an eternal sleep,
And none can hear my secret call,
Or see the silent tears I weep!
Oh, help me, God! For thou alone
Canst my distracted soul relieve;
Forsake it not: it is thine own,
Though weak, yet longing to believe.
Oh, drive these cruel doubts away;
And make me know, that Thou art God!
A faith, that shines by night and day,
Will lighten every earthly load.
If I believe that Jesus died,
And, waking, rose to reign above;
Then surely Sorrow, Sin, and Pride,
Must yield to Peace, and Hope, and Love.
And all the blessed words He said
Will strength and holy joy impart:
A shield of safety o'er my head,
A spring of comfort in my heart.
poem by Anne Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Wedding Song
Ive been having dreams and visions
In them you are always standing
Right beside me
I reach out for your hand
To see your arms extending
Outstretched towards me
For you I don the veil
By your light
Others pale by comparison
I place my faith in love
My fate in this communication
Ive been having dreams and visions
In them you are always standing
Right beside me
I reach out for your hand
To see your arms extending
Outstretched towards me
To you I give my pledge
I honor all thats good
In this life were living
To think not only of myself
But of the greater union
Can I get a witness
There is salvation and rapture for the lonely
Can I get a witness
Bless this day sacred and holy
Sacred and holy
Ive been having dreams and visions
In them you are always standing
Right beside me
I reach out for your hand
To see your arms extending
Outstretched towards me
With you I am revealed
All my shame all my faults and virtues
Behold body mind and spirit
Heart and soul devoted all to you
Can I get a witness
Bless this day sacred and holy
Sacred and holy
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Can Do Magic
I never believed in things that I couldnt see
I said if I cant feel it then how can it be
No, no magic could happen to me
And then I saw you
I couldnt believe it, you took my heart
I couldnt retrieve it, said to myself
Whats it all about
Now I know there can be no doubt
You can do magic
You can have anything that you desire
Magic, and you know
Youre the one who can put out the fire
You know darn well
When you cast your spell you will get your way
When you hypnotize with your eyes
A heart of stone can turn to clay
Doo, doo, doo ...
And when the rain is beatin upon the window pane
And when the night it gets so cold, when I cant sleep
Again you come to me
I hold you tight, the rain disappears
Who would believe it
With a word you dry my tears
You can do magic
You can have anything that you desire
Magic, and you know
Youre the one who can put out the fire
You know darn well
When you cast your spell you will get your way
When you hypnotize with your eyes
A heart of stone can turn to clay
Doo, doo, doo ...
And if I wanted to
I could never be free
I never believed it was true
But now its so clear to me
You can do magic
You can have anything that you desire
Magic, and you know
Youre the one who can put out the fire
You know darn well
When you cast your spell you will get your way
When you hypnotize with your eyes
A heart of stone can turn to clay
Doo, doo, doo ...
Youre the one who can put out the fire
Youre the one who can put out the fire
Youre the one who can put out the fire ...
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Maid's Lament
I loved him not; and yet, now he is gone,
I feel I am alone.
I check'd him while he spoke; yet, could he speak,
Alas! I would not check.
For reasons not to love him once I sought,
And wearied all my thought
To vex myself and him: I now would give
My love could he but live
Who lately lived for me, and, when he found
'Twas vain, in holy ground
He hid his face amid the shades of death!
I waste for him my breath
Who wasted his for me! but mine returns,
And this torn bosom burns
With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep,
And waking me to weep
Tears that had melted his soft heart: for years
Wept he as bitter tears!
Merciful God! such was his latest prayer,
These may she never share.
Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold,
Than daisies in the mould,
Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate,
His name and life's brief date.
Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe'er you be,
And oh! pray too for me!
poem by Walter Savage Landor
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The Heart: Two Sonnets
I
The heart you hold too small and local thing,
Such spacious terms of edifice to bear.
And yet, since Poesy first shook out her wing,
The mighty Love has been impalaced there;
That has she given him as his wide demesne,
And for his sceptre ample empery;
Against its door to knock has Beauty been
Content; it has its purple canopy
A dais for the sovereign lady spread
Of many a lover, who the heaven would think
Too low an awning for her sacred head.
The world, from star to sea, cast down its brink--
Yet shall that chasm, till He Who these did build
An awful Curtius make Him, yawn unfilled.
II
O nothing, in this corporal earth of man,
That to the imminent heaven of his high soul
Responds with colour and with shadow, can
Lack correlated greatness. If the scroll
Where thoughts lie fast in spell of hieroglyph
Be mighty through its mighty habitants;
If God be in His Name; grave potence if
The sounds unbind of hieratic chants;
All's vast that vastness means. Nay, I affirm
Nature is whole in her least things exprest,
Nor know we with what scope God builds the worm.
Our towns are copied fragments from our breast;
And all man's Babylons strive but to impart
The grandeurs of his Babylonian heart.
poem by Francis Thompson
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Sonnet V
BECAUSE I know that there is that in me
Of which thou shouldst be proud, and not ashamed,--
Because I feel one made thy choice should be
Not even by fools and slanderers rashly blamed,--
Because I fear, howe'er thy soul may strive
Against the weakness of that inward pain,
The falsehoods which my enemies contrive
Not always seek to wound thine ear in vain,--
Therefore I sometimes weep, when I should smile,
At all the vain frivolity and sin
Which those who know me not (yet me revile)--
My would-be judges--cast my actions in;
But else their malice hath nor sting nor smart--
For I appeal from them, Beloved, to thine own heart!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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