En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Heaven Help Ye

Heaven help ye, lorn ones! bending
'Neath your weary life of pain,
Tears of ceaseless anguish blending
With the bitter cup ye drain;
Yet think not your prayers ascending,
Shall forever rise in vain.

Hearts there are of human feeling,
That have felt your cry of woe;
Bear awhile! and soon revealing
Brighter prospects with its glow,
Light across your night-clouds stealing
Hours of freedom yet may show.

poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Christian’s New Year Prayer

Thou Christ of mine, Thy gracious ear low bending
Through these glad New Year days,
To catch the countless prayers to heaven ascending –
For e’en hard hearts do raise
Some secret wish for fame, or gold, or power,
Or freedom from all care –
Dear, patient Christ, who listeneth hour on hour,
Hear now a Christian’s prayer.

Let this young year, silent, walks beside me,
Be as a means of grace
To lead me up, no matter what betide me,
Nearer the Master’s face.
If it need be ere I reach the Fountain
Where living waters play,
My feet should bleed from sharp stones on the mountain,
Then cast them in my way.

If my vain soul needs blows and bitter losses
To shape it for Thy crown,
Then bruise it, burn it, burden it with crosses,
With sorrows bear it down.
Do what Thou wilt to mould me to Thy pleasure,
And if I should complain,
Heap full of anguish yet another measure
Until I smile at pain.
Send dangers – deaths! but tell me how to dare them;
Enfold me in Thy care.
Send trials, tears! but give me strength to bear them –
This is a Christian’s prayer.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Life is too short

Life is too short for any vain regretting;
Let dead delight bury its dead, I say,
And let us go upon our way forgetting
The joys and sorrows of each yesterday
Between the swift sun's rising and its setting
We have no time for useless tears or fretting:
Life is too short.
Life is too short for any bitter feeling;
Time is the best avenger if we wait;
The years speed by, and on their wings bear healing;
We have no room for anything like hate.
This solemn truth the low mounds seem revealing
That thick and fast about our feet are stealing:
Life is too short.
Life is too short for aught but high endeavor—
Too short for spite, but long enough for love.
And love lives on forever and forever;
It links the worlds that circle on above:
'Tis God's first law, the universe's lever.
In His vast realm the radiant souls sigh never
'Life is too short.'

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Candels In The Grotto

Candles in the grotto
Flickering in the night
Hoping God will see them
On this cold and lonely night
For they are the prayers of many
Who are hurting and afraid
Wishes from so many
That only the Lord and His mother
Can make the pain go away
Oh how they shine
Bring fourth their light
Showing the Lord and His mother
Their hearts of love for them tonite
May their prayers be answered
As their lights begin to fade
May the light of heaven
Bring you brighter days

poem by David Kush
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Dream Dream

Dream dream like falling rain
All is beautiful though searched in vain
Love is a pain - love is a feeling
Something of a passion somewhere stealing
Love comes and goes like it glows
All is a dream - a dream that goes

Feeling from the darker night
Taking all the blues away
Flying light sweet soft light
That meets another day
Everything that comes to shine
Gives a brighter on day
Something that makes you feel fine
Taking the shadows away

Love is never out of touch
In all its temperaments and play
It’s a mood to feel so much
And never the same, always to stay
Love comes and goes like it glows
All is a dream - a dream that goes

Sometimes when we are far apart
And nothing seem comfortably right
It’s only the inside beating heart
That makes my dreamy on flight
All is a dream - a dream that goes
Love song of feelings that inside glows

Dream dream like falling rain
All is beautiful though searched in vain
Love is a pain - love is a feeling
Something of a passion somewhere stealing
Love comes and goes like it glows
All is a dream - a dream that goes

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Think of the Slave

Think of the slave, in your hours of glee,
Ye who are treading life's flowery way;
Nought but its rankling thorns has he,
Nought but the gloom of its wintry day.

Think of the slave, in your hours of woe!—
What are your sorrows, to that he bears?
Quenching the light of his bosom's glow,
With a life-long stain of gushing tears.

Think of the slave, in your hours of prayer,
When worldly thoughts in your hearts are dim,
Offer your thanks for the bliss ye share,
But pray for a brighter lot for him.

poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Sun Will Rise Again

I know the sun will rise again
I saw the sun set on my dream
I saw myself toil in vain
I saw my tears flow like a stream
But I know the sun will rise again

I know the sun will rise again
The other day I was a hero
Yet today I feel the pain
As I wind down to zero
But I know the sun will rise again

I am lost in this stormy rain
Tossed by fierce winds day after day
My strength the storm has drain
But I wait on hope's smiley ray
When the sun will rise again

I know the sun will rise again
I have groped in pitch darkness
Searching for answers, searching in vain
But I wait on the morning brightness
When the sun will rise again.

poem by Joseph Eli Atisu
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Anguish, pain, misery, sorrow and retribution

Some say life is full of anguish,
old man once sang that life is full of pain
some even preach that life comes fully laced with misery and sorrow,
and some believe that life offers no retribution
ideas clearly instilled in the hearts and souls of many a man,
but the truth of the matter is,
life is anguish,
life is pain,
life is misery and sorrow,
in the same way as rain is water
and water is rain
for where can one get one`s own share of anguish,
who`d we ever have known pain if we never had life
without life, would we live through misery and sorrow
life in itself is retribution,
for he who has life can stand ground against
anguish, pain, misery and sorrow
and live to see brighter days seemingly unscathed
but woo to he who loses his life
in anguish, or pain, or misery , or sorrow
for he will receive no further retribution
and he will depart this earth with nothing but
anguish, pain, misery, sorrow
and retribution lost

poem by Tinashe Severa
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I’ve Heard Some Say

With trembling
voice of desperate hope
with longing
voice of broken hope.

I’ve heard some say.
The sun will rise one day.
I’ve heard some say.
The sun will rise one day.

Yet I welcome not; oncoming light
for all is stark, rigid, clear; obliterating bright
inflexible, absolute; in piercing glaring light
no place to hide, in refuge; as in shelter night.

Intense mushroomed brightness; obliterates sight
a disagreeable dazzling damning; atom splitting light
fierce hard overpowering; atom splitting obliterating sight
no place of mindful refuge lit; as in dreams of hope filled night.

It is hard
to face, oncoming day,
when hope
filled dreams, are stripped away.

To face impossible
fruitless reality, sow mortality.
A decisive bitter blow.
Youth contemplates senility.

When glorious dreams
are shredded ripped apart.
Where can distraught
mind go? To restart?

Fear to face
fresh newborn day.
Fear to face
illuminated mushroomed day.

Illuminated
full
born
prospects.

Heralded in atomic
calculating
mechanical
lifeless age.

An
apocalyptic
revelation
day.

The sun will rise one day.
Some tears get in the way.
The sun will rise one day.
Heart haven’t left to face such day.

The sun will set one day.
Beautiful red flash glow.
Bathes illuminated peaks.
Illuminated in rose red glow.

Across the sky
a rose red glow
promise of warmth;
invading heat wave;

in welcoming
embracing
finale closing
curtains show.

Free of blistering burning pain
in sweet tormenting restful death.
Freedom of soul releasing death
finally tormented; humanity laid to rest.

Finally ultimately
in apocalyptic death.
Humanity struggles free,
of pain life’s wife strife.

A fading
water
coloured
fresco;

of defeated
expectations,
heartache
needless strife.

The sun will set one day
come embrace my friend with the night.
The sun will set one day
in death’s dust we all will lay tonight.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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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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Heaven Grows

Heaven grows
On barren hearts
Fertilized with pain
When barren hearts fall apart
Heaven starts to grow

Heaven grows
On barren hearts
Drenched in tears
When the flood waters part
Heaven starts to grow

Heaven grows
On barren hearts
During darkest night
With the faintest light
Heaven starts to grow

Heaven grows best
When filled with pain
Drenched in tears
During the darkest night
When we call out his name

poem by Brian Kilpatrick
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My Freedom

Midnight is arriving,
Sun is fading away,
Cloud by day,
Fire by night,
My emotions, gone,
My urge burning,
Burning ready for your presence.

I was once blinded from what
you were revealing to me.
Ignoring you of what you are
giving upon me.
But you gave me mercy.
I repented, gave you my life.
You took hold, made something out of it.
Gave me a reason, told me I have
a reason to live for.

You gave me my freedom!
My freedom...
You broke the chains,
Shakles and cuffs demolished,
Tears and pain deminished!
Tore down the strongholds.
Cast down the demons.
MY FREEDOM! ! ! !
I could just scream it!
You saved my life! ! ! !
How do I repay you?
FREEDOM! ! ! ! ! !

You gave me life, love,
peace, joy, strength, happiness,
possibilaties...
When the prince gave me hate, sorrow,
pain, fears, tears, searing screaches,
mind boteling screams...

FREEDOM! ! !
FREEDOM! ! !
FREEDOM! ! !
You gave me my freedom! ! !
Im set free!
Relieved, rescued, SAVED! ! !
You gave me freedom,
Freedom to live, love, worship,
power...
Freedom.....

poem by Kaia Williams
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If This Be All

O God! if this indeed be all
That Life can show to me;
If on my aching brow may fall
No freshening dew from Thee, -
If with no brighter light than this
The lamp of hope may glow,
And I may only dream of bliss,
And wake to weary woe;

If friendship's solace must decay,
When other joys are gone,
And love must keep so far away,
While I go wandering on, -

Wandering and toiling without gain,
The slave of others' will,
With constant care, and frequent pain,
Despised, forgotten still;

Grieving to look on vice and sin,
Yet powerless to quell
The silent current from within,
The outward torrent's swell:

While all the good I would impart,
The feelings I would share,
Are driven backward to my heart,
And turned to wormwood, there;

If clouds must ever keep from sight
The glories of the Sun,
And I must suffer Winter's blight,
Ere Summer is begun;

If life must be so full of care,
Then call me soon to Thee;
Or give me strength enough to bear
My load of misery.

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

I AM no priest of crooks nor creeds,
For human wants and human needs
Are more to me than prophets' deeds;
And human tears and human cares
Affect me more than human prayers.
Go, cease your wail, lugubrious saint!
You fret high Heaven with your plaint.
Is this the 'Christian's joy' you paint?
Is this the Christian's boasted bliss?
Avails your faith no more than this?
Take up your arms, come out with me,
Let Heav'n alone; humanity
Needs more and Heaven less from thee.
With pity for mankind look 'round;
Help them to rise — and Heaven is found.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Evening Hymn

The crag-pent breezes sob and moan where hidden waters glide;
And twilight wanders round the earth with slow and shadowy stride.
The gleaming clouds, above the brows of western steeps uphurled,
Look like the spires of some fair town that bounds a brighter world.
Lo, from the depths of yonder wood, where many a blind creek strays,
The pure Australian moon comes forth, enwreathed with silver haze.
The rainy mists are trooping down the folding hills behind,
And distant torrent-voices rise like bells upon the wind.
The echeu's* songs are dying, with the flute-bird's mellow tone,
And night recalls the gloomy owl to rove the wilds alone;
Night, holy night, in robes of blue, with golden stars encrowned,
Ascending mountains like to walls that hem an Eden round.

Oh, lovely moon! oh, holy night! how good your God must be,
When, through the glories of your light, He stoops to look at me!
Oh, glittering clouds and silvery shapes, that vanish one by one!
Is not the kindness of our Lord too great to think upon?
If human song could flow as free as His created breeze,
When, sloping from some hoary height, it sweeps the vacant seas,
Then should my voice to heaven ascend, my tuneful lyre be strung,
And music sweeter than the winds should roam these glens among.
Go by, ye golden-footed hours, to your mysterious bourne,
And hide the sins ye bear from hence, so that they ne'er return.
Teach me, ye beauteous stars, to kiss kind Mercy's chastening rod,
And, looking up from Nature's face, to worship Nature's God.

poem by Henry Kendall
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Oh Tell Me Not, I Shall Forget

Oh! tell me not I shall forget,
Amid the scenes of nature's reign,
The cheeks with bitter tear-drops wet,
The hearts whose every throb is pain.

The wood-bird's merry notes may ring,
Exulting ‘neath the clear blue sky:
But louder still the breezes bring
The echo of a sister's cry.

The forest brook may sparkle fair,
And win my heart to love its sheen;
But still it shows me, mirror'd there,
The image of a distant scene.

The verdant sod around my feet,
The treasure of its flowers may spread,
And close embowering branches meet,
In fresh'ning coolness, o'er my head.

Yet not for these, oh! not for these,
Can I forget the Afric's woe,—
The sighs that float on every breeze,
The streaming tears that ceaseless flow.

No! though the loveliness of earth
Hath touch'd my spirit like a spell,
And sooth'd me back to joy and mirth,
When darkness else had round it fell.

Though not the simplest bud, that droops
Beneath its weight of morning dew,
When light the orient zephyr stoops
To trifle with its petals blue;

Though not a breeze that stirs the grove,
Or wing that cleaves the summer air,
But hath a link upon my love,
Or strikes some chord of feeling there;

Yet think not they can lull my heart,
To carelessness of human woe;
Or bid the bitter tears that start
For Afric's wrongs, no longer flow.

poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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You Dont Know What Love Is

(steve bogard/marv green)
You say Im aggressive, too possessive
Its too soon, too much
You want to wait around, slow it down, but Im burnin up
What can I do to get through to you, I know that youre the one
cause theres no controllin this emotion, its bigger than us
You dont know what love is
If you think that I can fight this feeling
Keep my true heart from revealing
Everything inside
You dont know what love is
If you hear me say your mine forever
Feel our two hearts beat together
And think you can resist
You dont know what love is
Its soft and gentle, its sentimental, cant you feel it too
Theres no denyin or compromising, its perfectly true
Its overpowering, its all around me when Im around you
You dont know what love is
If you think that I can fight this feeling
Keep my true heart from revealing
Everything inside
You dont know what love is
If you hear me say your mine forever
Feel our two hearts beat together
And think you can resist
You dont know what love is
I see you smile and girl Im sure Ive found it
Heaven knows theres just no doubt about it now
You dont know what love is
If you think that I can fight this feeling
Keep my true heart from revealing
Everything inside
You dont know what love is
If you hear me say your mine forever
Feel our two hearts beat together
And think you can resist
You dont know what love is
You dont know what love is
You dont know what love is
You dont know what love is
You dont know what love is

song performed by by Lonestar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lift Every Voice and Sing

Lift ev'ry voice and sing,
Till earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the list'ning skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on till victory is won.

Stony the road we trod,
Bitter the chast'ning rod,
Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;
Yet with a steady beat,
Have not our weary feet
Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?
We have come over a way that with tears has been watered.
We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,
Out from the gloomy past,
Till now we stand at last
Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.

God of our weary years,
God of our silent tears,
Thou who hast brought us thus far on the way;
Thou who hast by Thy might,
Led us into the light,
Keep us forever in the path, we pray.
Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,
Lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee;
Shadowed beneath Thy hand,
May we forever stand,
True to our God,
True to our native land.

poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Think of Our Country's Glory

Think of our country's glory,
All dimm'd with Afric's tears—
Her broad flag stain'd and gory
With the hoarded guilt of years!

Think of the frantic mother,
Lamenting for her child,
Till falling lashes smother
Her cries of anguish wild!

Think of the prayers ascending,
Yet shriek'd, alas! in vain,
When heart from heart is rending
Ne'er to be join'd again.

Shall we behold, unheeding,
Life's holiest feelings crush'd?—
When woman's heart is bleeding,
Shall woman's voice be hush'd?

Oh, no! by every blessing
That Heaven to thee may lend—
Remember their oppression,
Forget not, sister, friend.

poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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An Emblem of Life

Oh! Life is like the summer rill, where weary daylight dies;
We long for morn to rise again, and blush along the skies:
For dull and dark that stream appears, whose waters in the day,
All glad, in conscious sunniness, went dancing on their way.
But when the glorious sun hath 'woke, and look'd upon the earth,
And over hill and dale there float the sounds of human mirth;
We sigh to see day hath not brought its perfect light to all,
For with the sunshine on those waves, the silent shadows fall.

Oh! like that changeful summer rill our years go gliding by,
Now bright with joy, now dark with tears, before youth's eager eye.
And thus we vainly pant for all the rich and golden glow,
Which young Hope, like an early sun, upon its course can throw,
Soon o'er our half illumined hearts the stealing shadows come,
And every thought that 'woke in light receives its share of gloom;
And we weep while joys and sorrows both are fading from our view,
To find, wherever sunbeams fall, the shadow cometh too.

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Gipsies

Yet are they here the same unbroken knot
Of human Beings, in the self-same spot!
Men, women, children, yea the frame
Of the whole spectacle the same!
Only their fire seems bolder, yielding light,
Now deep and red, the colouring of night;
That on their Gipsy-faces falls,
Their bed of straw and blanket-walls.
--Twelve hours, twelve bounteous hours are gone, while I
Have been a traveller under open sky,
Much witnessing of change and cheer,
Yet as I left I find them here!
The weary Sun betook himself to rest;--
Then issued Vesper from the fulgent west,
Outshining like a visible God
The glorious path in which he trod.
And now, ascending, after one dark hour
And one night's diminution of her power,
Behold the mighty Moon! this way
She looks as if at them--but they
Regard not her:--oh better wrong and strife
(By nature transient) than this torpid life;
Life which the very stars reprove
As on their silent tasks they move!
Yet, witness all that stirs in heaven or earth!
In scorn I speak not;--they are what their birth
And breeding suffer them to be;
Wild outcasts of society!

poem by William Wordsworth
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