En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Sympathy

here should be no despair for you
While nightly stars are burning;
While evening pours its silent dew,
And sunshine gilds the morning.
There should be no despair—though tears
May flow down like a river:
Are not the best beloved of years
Around your heart for ever?

They weep, you weep, it must be so;
Winds sigh as you are sighing,
And winter sheds its grief in snow
Where Autumn's leaves are lying:
Yet, these revive, and from their fate
Your fate cannot be parted:
Then, journey on, if not elate,
Still never broken-hearted!

poem by Emily Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sympathy

There should be no despair for you
While nightly stars are burning,
While evening pours its silent dew
And sunshine gilds the morning.
There should be no despair - though tears
May flow down like a river:
Are not the best beloved of years
Around your heart forever?

They weep - you weep - it must be so;
Winds sigh as you are sighing,
And Winter sheds his grief in snow
Where Autumn's leaves are lying:
Yet these revive, and from their fate
Your fate cannot be parted,
Then journey on, if not elate,
Still, never broken-hearted!

poem by Emily Jane Brontë
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Despair Of The Early Morning

DESPAIR OF THE EARLY MORNING

Despair of the early morning
Despair of the darkness
Despair of the Despair
Despair of Old Age
Despair of the road closed
Despair of nothing to do
Despair of nowhere to go
Despair of endless errands
Despair of money running out
Despair of the message of Despair
One transmits to those one loves.

Despair that has to be resisted
Despair that the light of the day
Will help me overcome
Despair I will pray my way out of
Despair I will in the course of the day
Sometime overcome.

Not the great Despair
The unending Despair
The final Despair.

The small Despair of who I am and where I am now.
The Despair that still can be resisted,
By the writing of a few awkward lines
Early in the morning.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Laugh With The World But Weep Alone!

LAUGH WITH THE WORLD
BUT WEEP ALONE!

I have come to bear my own cross,
And to weep alone and dry my tears!
For this sad old world have troubles
galore,
With no time to spare for me or despair!
When I laugh the world laughs with me,
And is ever ready to share my happy times;
But in my hour of grief they shrug and say, -
' A friend in grief is no friend of mine! '

Yet our tears get attached to our joys
and mirth,
Happy moments always bring tears to
our eyes!
For my tears celebrate those short-lived
hours,
Since only happines can never be mine!
So tears flow in silence without a sound,
Knowing that it can't be the other way round!
For when I weep I must weep alone,
With none to share my grief and despair!
This one way traffic is an erroneous rule,
Which mistakenly many believe and share!

With my tears I try to cleanse my soul,
A soul which truly belongs to me!
And those crystal drops reflects the
rainbow,
A grand view my soul gets to see!
But when I share my tears with other's,
I lessen their grief and give them hope;
In caring and sharing we are twice blessed,
Strengthening the bond between human folks!
But should we only share the good times,
While refraining from sharing other's sorrow
and pain,
Our happiness gets all confined,
And our living becomes all in vain!
With a soul which is never blessed,
An uncleansed soul which is left unclean,
That rainbow remains out of sight!
And salvation a distant dream!

-Raj Nandy
New Delhi
02 May 08

poem by Raj Nandy
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Weep Not For Him That Dieth

I.

WEEP not for him that dieth--
For he sleeps, and is at rest;
And the couch whereon he lieth
Is the green earth's quiet breast:
But weep for him who pineth
On a far land's hateful shore,
Who wearily declineth
Where ye see his face no more!
II.

Weep not for him that dieth,
For friends are round his bed,
And many a young lip sigheth
When they name the early dead;
But weep for him that liveth
Where none will know or care,
When the groan his faint heart giveth
Is the last sigh of despair.
III.

Weep not for him that dieth,
For his struggling soul is free,
And the world from which it flieth
Is a world of misery;
But weep for him that weareth
The captive's galling chain:
To the agony he beareth,
Death were but little pain.
IV.

Weep not for him that dieth,
For he hath ceased from tears,
And a voice to his replieth
Which he hath not heard for years;
But weep for him who weepeth
On that cold land's cruel shore--
Blest, blest is he that sleepeth,--
Weep for the dead no more!

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Rhyme: Bury Your Dead

Grieving is a divine healing;
God's helping you bury your dead.
There's peace in the palm of His hand,
Let go now take His hand instead.
We feel despair, we sob, we cry,
It's what we do when people die.
We feel sadness, we weep, we sigh,
It's what we do when we say, goodbye!
We dig through boxes of keepsakes,
Mementos, music, and old mail.
A sentimental picture comes
From a sound, a touch, or a smell.
We feel despair, we sob, we cry,
It's what we do when people die.
We feel sadness, we weep, we sigh,
It's what we do when we say, goodbye!
We go back, revisit their home,
The place we can see them so clear.
We remember the things we shared—
All the tears, all the joys, all the years.

poem by Caryl Ramsdale
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Where Does The Broken-Hearted Go

Where does the broken-hearted go
when its world is in despair.
Where does it run to
and in whom does it console.

Where does the broken-hearted go
when winter chills the soul.
Will it mend and find
another to love again.

Where does the broken-hearted go
when day turns into night
and the candle flickers and dies
extinguishing all the light.

Where do the broken-hearted go
please tell me someone?
My heart has been broken
and I need to know where to go.

20 July 2010

poem by David Harris
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But Don't Despair

Despair, if you must –
But how's it going to pull you through?
Despair, when you trust
Naught since then there's naught to do.
Despair, should you thrust
Aside your pride, your self-esteem.
And so despair, if it's dust,
The only substance that you deem.
Despair, when a gust
Of slightly breeze can break your stance.
And do despair, when lust
Is your interpretation of romance.

But don't despair, if you can care
About the plight of any other being.
And you can focus on the help,
Support, and altruistic further actions
For the seeing. Be believing,
As despair will start receding
All around – simply since you found
A way to steer you clear
From this: the very cause of your despair!

So give to others; give them all a helping lift:
Despair, you'll find will disappear –
And that has got to be a well-deserved
And saintly gift!

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009

Rain of despair

despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
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despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
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despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Hill Maples

Here on a hill of the occident stand we shoulder to shoulder,
Comrades tried and true through a mighty swath of the years!
Spring harps glad laughter through us, and ministrant rains of the autumn
Sing us again the songs of ancient dolor and tears.

The glory of sunrise smites on our fair, free brows uplifted
When the silver-kirtled day steps over the twilight's bars;
At evening we look adown into valleys hearted with sunset,
And we whisper old lore together under the smouldering stars.

Crescent moons of the summer gleam through our swaying branches,
Knee-deep in fern we stand while the days of the sun-time go;
And the winds of winter love us­the keen, gay winds of the winter,
Coming to our gray arms from over the plains of snow.

Down in the valleys beneath us is wooing and winning and wedding,
Down in the long, dim valleys earth-children wail and weep;
But here on these free hills we grow and are strong and flourish,
Comrades shoulder to shoulder our watch of the years to keep.

poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Laugh, Laugh With All!

Laugh and the world laughs with
you but when you weep you all
alone and so called human world laughs at you,
But not the trees and plants,
And not the flowering plants,
More over neither Earth nor the air,
Only when we weep our tears can wet only our heart,
Not even if wet's beloved God's heart,
Wipe your tears and say,
All is well and it is my own fate!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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An Orphan's Lament

She's gone - and twice the summer's sun
Has gilt Regina's towers,
And melted wild Angora's snows,
And warmed Exina's bowers.
The flowerets twice on hill and dale
Have bloomed and died away,
And twice the rustling forest leaves
Have fallen to decay,

And thrice stern winter's icy hand
Has checked the river's flow,
And three times o'er the mountains thrown
His spotless robe of snow.

Two summers springs and autumns sad
Three winters cold and grey --
And is it then so long ago
That wild November day!

They say such tears as children weep
Will soon be dried away,
That childish grief however strong
Is only for a day,

And parted friends how dear soe'er
Will soon forgotten be;
It may be so with other hearts,
It is not thus with me.

My mother, thou wilt weep no more
For thou art gone above,
But can I ever cease to mourn
Thy good and fervent love?

While that was mine the world to me
Was sunshine bright and fair;
No feeling rose within my heart
But thou couldst read it there.

And thou couldst feel for all my joys
And all my childish cares
And never weary of my play
Or scorn my foolish fears.

Beneath thy sweet maternal smile
All pain and sorrow fled,
And even the very tears were sweet
Upon thy bosom shed.

Thy loss can never be repaired;
I shall not know again
While life remains, the peaceful joy
That filled my spirit then.

Where shall I find a heart like thine
While life remains to me,
And where shall I bestow the love
I ever bore for thee?

poem by Anne Brontë
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Silent Dispair

Silent Despair

I sit here sad and it's still the same,
Crying for hours holding in all the pain.
How you can sit and pretend everything's OK,
Continue moving on, day after day.

So as I continue to carry my silent guilt,
Wondering if my life can ever be rebuilt.
All the tears I weep when I' m all alone,
Behind my wall that has increasing grown.

Reflects some of the pain that tortures me,
I've tried and tried and can't seem to get free
The deepest scars of my life inflicted with such pain,
Of the betrayal that prevents me from being whole again
.
The trust that now has been broken, is there even a repair?
To free me from the darkest haunts of my silent despair.

Jim 1985

poem by James Casey
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Fate Stay With Me

What did you think Id be doing now
While you left me, I was thinking aloud
Would there be no end to my sorrow
Will I make it through tomorrow
Chorus:
Let the autumn leaves fall
The chilly raindrops freeze
The white snow melts
Ill just sail on those seas
Fate, fate, fate stay with me
I wanna be, wanna be, wanna be free
Fate, fate, fate stay with me
I wanna be, wanna be, wanna be free
That wouldnt be any fun
Id rather be lying on the sun
Together alone with you
Beneath the sky of blue
Repeat chorus
Tell me! tell me!
Will my light be blown out crying
Baby! baby!
I feel as though Im dying
Fate, fate, fate
Repeat chorus into fade

song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dispair

Despair

I sit home sad and not the same,
Crying for hours holding in all the pain.
How you can sit and pretend everything's OK,
Moving on, day by day.
So as I carry my silent guilt,
Wondering if my life can be rebuilt.
The tears I weep when alone,
Behind my wall that has grown.
Reflects the pain that tortures me,
Until I feel to the lowest degree.
The deepest scars of my life inflicted with such pain,
Of the betrayal that prevents me from being whole again.
The trust that once was broken, can it ever be repaired?
To free me from the darkest hours of my silent despair.

Jim 1978

poem by James Casey
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Years of Tears

Years of tears for no ears to hear, lonely for years am I
Years of tears for no ears to hear in silence they dropp and die
Years of tears, hidden deep, I cannot weep, nor cry.
Years of tears, for many fears of dying alone, I sigh.
Years of tears which no one hears as many years go by.
Years of tears in the lonely sky, my tears grow wings and fly.
Years of tears, my smile shines, through its little lines, I lie.
Years of tears, my somber peers through my melancholy eye
Tears of tears, Years of Years, in my soul, I tie.
Years of tears for no ears to hear my tears weep goodbye….

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Autumn.

I in the autumn of my days
Stand by a place of tears,
And hear the unborn children weep
Within the unborn years;
And feel how all God's sorrow must
Go wailing on until
Man's autumn, too, is past, and he
May winter from all ill.
* * * * *
A pale light in the fading wood,
The sob of dying leaves —
A lorn bird lying in the dusk
Of life that wakes and grieves!
O mournful heart whose love is dust,
In the decaying wood
Death's deepening mystery will cling
Round thee like solitude.

poem by Robert Crawford
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Venite Descendamus

Let be at last; give over words and sighing,
Vainly were all things said:
Better at last to find a place for lying,
Only dead.

Silence were best, with songs and sighing over;
Now be the music mute;
Now let the dead, red leaves of autumn cover
A vain lute.

Silence is best: for ever and for ever,
We will go down and sleep,
Somewhere beyond her ken, where she need never
Come to weep.

Let be at last: colder she grows and colder;
Sleep and the night were best;
Lying at last where we cannot behold her,
We may rest.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Stanzas

I'll not weep that thou art going to leave me,
There's nothing lovely here;
And doubly will the dark world grieve me,
While thy heart suffers there.

I'll not weep, because the summer's glory
Must always end in gloom;
And, follow out the happiest story -
It closes with a tomb!

And I am weary of the anguish
Increasing winters bear;
Weary to watch the spirit languish
Through years of dead despair.

So, if a tear, when thou art dying,
Should haply fall from me,
It is but that my soul is sighing,
To go and rest with thee.

poem by Emily Jane Brontë
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Songs Set To Music: 4. Set By Mr. Smith

Come, weep no more, for 'tis in vain;
Torment not thus your pretty heart;
Think, Flavia, we may meet again,
As well as that we now must part.

You sigh and weep; the gods neglect
That precious dew your eyes let fall;
Our joy and grief with like respect
They mind, and that is not at all.

We pray, in hopes they will be kind,
As if they did regard our state;
They hear, and the return we find
Is, that no prayers can alter Fate.

Then clear your brow, and look more gay;
Do not yourself to grief resign;
Who knows but that those powers may
The pair they now have parted join?

But since they have thus cruel been,
And could such constant lovers sever,
I dare not trust, lest, now they're in,
They should divide us two for ever.

Then, Flavia, come, and let us grieve,
Remembering, though, upon what score;
This our last parting look believe,
Believe we must embrace no more.

Yet should our sun shine out at last,
And Fortune, without more deceit,
Throw but one reconciling cast,
To make two wandering lovers meet;

How great then would our pleasures be
To find heaven kinder than believed,
And we, who had no hopes to see
Each other, to be thus deceived!

But say, should heaven bring no relief;
Suppose our sun should never rise;
Why, then, what's due to such a grief
We've paid already with our eyes.

poem by Matthew Prior
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From Faust - VII. MARGARET, Placing Fresh Flowers In The Flower-Pots.

O THOU well-tried in grief,

Grant to thy child relief,
And view with mercy this unhappy one!

The sword within thy heart,

Speechless with bitter smart,
Thou Lookest up towards thy dying son.

Thou look'st to God on high,

And breathest many a sigh
O'er his and thy distress, thou holy One!

Who e'er can know

The depth of woe

Piercing my very bone?
The sorrows that my bosom fill,
Its trembling, its aye-yearning will,

Are known to thee, to thee alone!

Wherever I may go,

With woe, with woe, with woe,
My bosom sad is aching!

I scarce alone can creep,

I weep, I weep, I weep,
My very heart is breaking.

The flowers at my window

My falling tears bedewed,
When I, at dawn of morning,

For thee these flow'rets strewed.

When early to my chamber

The cheerful sunbeams stole,
I sat upon my pallet,

In agony of soul.

Help! rescue me from death and misery!

Oh, thou well-tried in grief,

Grant to thy child relief,
And view with mercy my deep agony!

poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Two Seasons

I

The stars were wild that summer evening
As on the low lake shore stood you and I
And every time I caught your flashing eye
Or heard your voice discourse on anything
It seemed a star went burning down the sky.

I looked into your heart that dying summer
And found your silent woman's heart grown wild
Whereupon you turned to me and smiled
Saying you felt afraid but that you were
Weary of being mute and undefiled

II

I spoke to you that last winter morning
Watching the wind smoke snow across the ice
Told of how the beauty of your spirit, flesh,
And smile had made day break at night and spring
Burst beauty in the wasting winter's place.

You did not answer when I spoke, but stood
As if that wistful part of you, your sorrow,
Were blown about in fitful winds below;
Your eyes replied your worn heart wished it could
Again be white and silent as the snow.

poem by Galway Kinnell
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