By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung.
quote by William Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode Written In The Beginning Of The Year 1746
How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallowed mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair
To dwell a weeping hermit there!
poem by William Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode
HOW sleep the Brave, who sink to Rest,
By all their Country's Wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy Fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallow'd Mold,
She there shall dress a sweeter Sod,
Than Fancy's Feet have ever trod.
2.
By Fairy Hands their Knell is rung,
By Forms unseen their Dirge is sung;
There Honour comes, a Pilgrim grey,
To bless the Turf that wraps their Clay,
And Freedom shall a-while repair,
To dwell a weeping Hermit there!
poem by William Taylor Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Sleep The Brave
HOW sleep the brave, who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallow'd mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair
To dwell, a weeping hermit, there!
poem by William Taylor Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode Written In The Beginning Of The Year 1746
How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallowed mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair
To dwell a weeping hermit there!
poem by William Taylor Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You said that you'd call me!
Don't hate me for caring
Don't tear me apart
I'm lost without you
Please don't break my heart
You said that you'd call me
But my phone hasn't rung
Now the radio's playing
Our song that you sung
My world isn't worth it
Without you by my side
The pains getting worse
But i have to bide by the time
You said that you'd call me
But my phone hasn't rung
Now the radio's playing
Our song that you sung
Everything reminds me of you
I'm scared of never seeing your face again
Your eyes
Your smile
Your lips
Or hearing you speak
Or hearing you laugh
Even hearing you cry
I need you
Here
Here by my side
You said that you'd call me
But my phone hasn't rung
Now the radio's playing
Our song that you sung
poem by Lucy Vernezze
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The death-knell of the republic had rung as soon as the active power became lodged in the hands of those who sought, not to do justice to all citizens, rich and poor alike, but to stand for one special class and for its interests as opposed to the interests of others.
quote by Theodore Roosevelt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The death-knell of the republic had rung as soon as the active power became lodged in the hands of those who sought, not to do justice to all citizens, rich and poor alike, but to stand for one special class and for its interests as opposed to the interests of others.
quote by Theodore Roosevelt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God Give Me Strength
(words sung by the character in the movie given in brackets)
Now I have nothing, so God give me strength
cause Im weak in her [his] wake
And if Im strong I might still break
And I dont have anything to share
That I wont throw away into the air
That song is sung out
This bell is rung out [this belle is wrung out]
[he] she was the light that Id bless
[he] she took my last chance at happiness
So God give me strength, God give me strength
I cant hold onto [him] her, God give me strength
When the phone doesnt ring
And Im lost in imagining
Everything that kind of love is worth
As I tumble back down to the earth
That song is sung out
This bell is rung out
[he] she was the light that Id bless
[he] she took my last chance at happiness
So God give me strength,
God if [hed] shed grant me [his] her indulgence and decline
I might as well wipe [him] her from my memory
Fracture the spell as [he] she becomes my enemy
Maybe I was washed out like a lip-print on his shirt
See, Im only human, I want him to hurt
I want him
I want him to hurt
[instrumental]
Since I lost the power to pretend
That there could ever be a happy ending
That song is sung out
This bell is rung out
[he] she was the light that Id bless
[he] she took my last chance at happiness
So God give me strength, God give me strength
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Smoke rings
Didn't life see us dance?
In the arms of death,
That giver of breath, if, so.
What commodities, do
These smoke rings have left.
Surely in essences burned
It is purer, watered and fed.
Better than a single scant,
Mountain-rowan tree:
Whose berries be amber
Pink, white or red,
Who amongst us need lodgings?
When vapours condense
Beyond the rip-shore-tides
Of flesh: Better to be, the
Music; never heard sung.
Than one, that has rung.
And rung, and rung...
Only to be virulently alive!
But;
Still in essence, tone deaf.
poem by Mark Heathcote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Land of Promise
Although the faiths to which we fearful clung
Fall from us, or no more have might to save;
Although the past, recalling gifts it gave,
O'er lost delights a doleful knell have rung;
Although the present, forth from ashes sprung,
Postpone from day to day what most we crave,
And, promising, beguile us to the grave,—
Yet, toward the Future, we are always young!
It smiles upon us in last lingering hours,
If with less radiance, with a light as fair,
As tender, pure, as in our childish years:
It is the fairy realm of fadeless flowers,
Of songs and ever-springing fountains, where
No heart-aches come, no vain regrets, no tears!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Little Fairy
Little Fairy,
Shine so bright.
Little Fairy,
Show your light.
Little Fairy,
I’m amazed.
Little Fairy,
You seem to blaze.
Little Fairy,
I love your allure.
Little fairy,
You are so pure.
Little fairy,
In case you flee,
Little fairy,
First shine on me.
poem by Brittany Graviet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Remains Unseen
The hate that tears at my brain
Remains unseen to you
The self loathing and the pain
I'm swinging at the end of my rope,
If you only knew
I am lost without a hope,
There's nothing I can do
Oh.
I don't want to live this day
It's getting harder every day,
To face what I've become
The fear of what I have become
Remains unseen to you
A heart that's just gone numb
Remains unseen to you
I just want to close my eyes
And pretend this isn't true
Throw my hands up to the skies
There's nothing I can do
Oh.
This feeling of helplessness
And despair remains unseen to you
It's the cross that I must bear,
But it remains unseen to you
I dwell in a twisted reality of hate,
Remains unseen to you
Ugly thoughts, you cannot relate,
So I'll remain unseen to you
song performed by by Unseen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song Thats Sung..
A song that's sung
tells more than a story
a song that's sung
is sung from the heart
a song that's sung
is a story from the soul
a song that's sung
is the greatest love
a song that's sung
is a give from above
a song that's sung
is an emotion in a melody
a song that's sung
can be whatever you want it to be
a song that's sung
can have a million meanings
a song that's sung
is a diary of emotions...
poem by Emily Summers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fairy Song
The moonlight fades from flower and rose
And the stars dim one by one;
The tale is told, the song is sung,
And the Fairy feast is done.
The night-wind rocks the sleeping flowers,
And sings to them, soft and low.
The early birds erelong will wake:
'T is time for the Elves to go.
O'er the sleeping earth we silently pass,
Unseen by mortal eye,
And send sweet dreams, as we lightly float
Through the quiet moonlit sky;--
For the stars' soft eyes alone may see,
And the flowers alone may know,
The feasts we hold, the tales we tell;
So't is time for the Elves to go.
From bird, and blossom, and bee,
We learn the lessons they teach;
And seek, by kindly deeds, to win
A loving friend in each.
And though unseen on earth we dwell,
Sweet voices whisper low,
And gentle hearts most joyously greet
The Elves where'er they go.
When next we meet in the Fairy dell,
May the silver moon's soft light
Shine then on faces gay as now,
And Elfin hearts as light.
Now spread each wing, for the eastern sky
With sunlight soon shall glow.
The morning star shall light us home:
Farewell! for the Elves must go.
poem by Louisa May Alcott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Crow Sat On The Willow
The crow sat on the willow tree
A-lifting up his wings,
And glossy was his coat to see,
And loud the ploughman sings,
'I love my love because I know
The milkmaid she loves me';
And hoarsely croaked the glossy crow
Upon the willow tree.
'I love my love' the ploughman sung,
And all the fields with music rung.
'I love my love, a bonny lass,
She keeps her pails so bright,
And blythe she trips the dewy grass
At morning and at night.
A cotton dress her morning gown,
Her face was rosy health:
She traced the pastures up and down
And nature was her wealth.'
He sung, and turned each furrow down,
His sweetheart's love in cotton gown.
'My love is young and handsome
As any in the town,
She's worth a ploughman's ransom
In the drab cotton gown.'
He sang and turned his furrow oer
And urged his team along,
While on the willow as before
The old crow croaked his song:
The ploughman sung his rustic lay
And sung of Phoebe all the day.
The crow he was in love no doubt
And [so were] many things:
The ploughman finished many a bout,
And lustily he sings,
'My love she is a milking maid
With red rosy cheek;
Of cotton drab her gown was made,
I loved her many a week.'
His milking maid the ploughman sung
Till all the fields around him rung.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not All The Angels Of The Lord Are On The Highest Rung
Not all the angels of the Lord are on the highest rung-
I ascended on the ladder
But have not touched the top rung
And will not -
An angel of the middle and the bottom rows
I nonetheless sing out my praises to God -
While trying to climb higher,
Yet somewhere always
no matter how high I think I come
never touching the top rung.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lines On Captain Wogan. To An Oak Tree
To an Oak Tree, In the Churchyard of --, In the Highlands of Scotland, Said to Mark the Grave of Captain Wogan, Killed in 1649.
Emblem of England's ancient faith,
Full proudly may thy branches wave,
Where loyalty lies low in death,
And valour fills a timeless grave.
And thou, brave tenant of the tomb!
Repine not if our clime deny,
Above thine honoured sod to bloom,
The flowerets of a milder sky.
These owe their birth to genial May;
Beneath a fiercer sun they pine,
Before the winter storm decay-
And can their worth be type of thine?
No! for 'mid storms of Fate opposing,
Still higher swelled thy dauntless heart,
And, while Despair the scene was closing,
Commenced thy brief but brilliant part.
Twas then thou sought'st on Albyn's hill,
(When England's sons the strife resigned),
A rugged race, resisting still,
And unsubdued though unrefined.
Thy death's hour heard no kindred wail,
No holy knell thy requiem rung;
Thy mourners were the plaided Gael;
Thy dirge the clamorous pibroch sung.
Yet who, in Fortune's summer-shine,
To waste life's longest term away,
Would change that glorious dawn of thine,
Though darkened ere its noontide day?
Be thine the Tree whose dauntless boughs
Brave summer's drought and winter's gloom!
Rome bound with oak her patriots' brows,
As Albyn shadows Wogan's tomb.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Land Of Fairy Tales
In the land of fairy tales
Peace and serenity all prevails
Where no one is selfish or mean
And believes in things unseen
In the land of fairy tales
There blows a forceful gale
That always bring with it
Love, serenity and the friendship kit
In the land of fairy tales
No one seems to fail
neither things are bad
Nor anyone feels sad
It is all because over there
Everyone is nice and dear
Who not only cares for them
But with love others life also hem.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fairy Tale High
On a fairy tale high
Don't you believe that your dreams all come true
The fairy tale world inside can bring it to you
You just have to wish, and you'll take off and fly
On a fairy tale high, fairy tale high
Fairy tale high, fairy tale high
On a fairy tale high
Just look around you, the dark clouds are far
Stand on your tiptoes, and reach for a star
As stardust comes sprinkling, it will brighten your eyes
On a fairy tale high, fairy tale high
Fairy tale high, fairy tale high
Fairy tale high, fairy tale high, fairy tale high
On a fairy tale high, feeling higher and higher
On a fairy tale high, feeling higher and higher
On a fairy tale high, feeling higher and higher
On a fairy tale high, feeling higher and higher
On a fairy tale high, feeling higher and higher
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dirge
Prayer unsaid, and mass unsung, Deadman's dirge must still be rung:
Dingle-dong, the dead-bells sound! Mermen chant his dirge around!
Wash him bloodless, smooth him fair, Stretch his limbs, and sleek his hair
Dingle-dong, the dead-bells go! Mermen swing them to and fro!
In the wormless sand shall he Feast for no foul glutton be:
Dingle-dong, the dead-bells chime! Mermen keep the tone and time!
We must with a tombstone brave Shut the shark out from his grave
Dingle-dong, the dead-bells toll! Mermen dirgers ring his knoll!
Such a slab will we lay o'er him All the dead shall rise before him!
Dingle-dong, the dead-bells boom! Mermen lay him in his tomb!
poem by George Darley
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