Sailing to Byzantium
That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
Related quotes
The Tower
SAILING TO BYZANTIUM
I
THAT is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
-- Those dying generations -- at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out Of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
WHAT shall I do with this absurdity --
O heart, O troubled heart -- this caricature,
Decrepit age that has been tied to me
As to a dog's tail?
Never had I more
Excited, passionate, fantastical
Imagination, nor an ear and eye
That more expected the impossible --
No, not in boyhood when with rod and fly,
Or the humbler worm, I climbed Ben Bulben's back
And had the livelong summer day to spend.
It seems that I must bid the Muse go pack,
Choose Plato and Plotinus for a friend
Until imagination, ear and eye,
Can be content with argument and deal
In abstract things; or be derided by
A sort of battered kettle at the heel.
I pace upon the battlements and stare
On the foundations of a house, or where
Tree, like a sooty finger, starts from the earth;
And send imagination forth
Under the day's declining beam, and call
Images and memories
From ruin or from ancient trees,
For I would ask a question of them all.
Beyond that ridge lived Mrs. French, and once
When every silver candlestick or sconce
Lit up the dark mahogany and the wine.
A serving-man, that could divine
That most respected lady's every wish,
Ran and with the garden shears
Clipped an insolent farmer's ears
And brought them in a little covered dish.
Some few remembered still when I was young
A peasant girl commended by a Song,
Who'd lived somewhere upon that rocky place,
And praised the colour of her face,
And had the greater joy in praising her,
Remembering that, if walked she there,
Farmers jostled at the fair
So great a glory did the song confer.
And certain men, being maddened by those rhymes,
Or else by toasting her a score of times,
Rose from the table and declared it right
To test their fancy by their sight;
But they mistook the brightness of the moon
For the prosaic light of day --
Music had driven their wits astray --
And one was drowned in the great bog of Cloone.
Strange, but the man who made the song was blind;
Yet, now I have considered it, I find
That nothing strange; the tragedy began
With Homer that was a blind man,
And Helen has all living hearts betrayed.
O may the moon and sunlight seem
One inextricable beam,
For if I triumph I must make men mad.
And I myself created Hanrahan
And drove him drunk or sober through the dawn
From somewhere in the neighbouring cottages.
Caught by an old man's juggleries
He stumbled, tumbled, fumbled to and fro
And had but broken knees for hire
And horrible splendour of desire;
I thought it all out twenty years ago:
Good fellows shuffled cards in an old bawn;
And when that ancient ruffian's turn was on
He so bewitched the cards under his thumb
That all but the one card became
A pack of hounds and not a pack of cards,
And that he changed into a hare.
Hanrahan rose in frenzy there
And followed up those baying creatures towards --
O towards I have forgotten what -- enough!
I must recall a man that neither love
Nor music nor an enemy's clipped ear
Could, he was so harried, cheer;
A figure that has grown so fabulous
There's not a neighbour left to say
When he finished his dog's day:
An ancient bankrupt master of this house.
Before that ruin came, for centuries,
Rough men-at-arms, cross-gartered to the knees
Or shod in iron, climbed the narrow stairs,
And certain men-at-arms there were
Whose images, in the Great Memory stored,
Come with loud cry and panting breast
To break upon a sleeper's rest
While their great wooden dice beat on the board.
As I would question all, come all who can;
Come old, necessitous. half-mounted man;
And bring beauty's blind rambling celebrant;
The red man the juggler sent
Through God-forsaken meadows; Mrs. French,
Gifted with so fine an ear;
The man drowned in a bog's mire,
When mocking Muses chose the country wench.
Did all old men and women, rich and poor,
Who trod upon these rocks or passed this door,
Whether in public or in secret rage
As I do now against old age?
But I have found an answer in those eyes
That are impatient to be gone;
Go therefore; but leave Hanrahan,
For I need all his mighty memories.
Old lecher with a love on every wind,
Bring up out of that deep considering mind
All that you have discovered in the grave,
For it is certain that you have
Reckoned up every unforeknown, unseeing
plunge, lured by a softening eye,
Or by a touch or a sigh,
Into the labyrinth of another's being;
Does the imagination dwell the most
Upon a woman won or woman lost.?
If on the lost, admit you turned aside
From a great labyrinth out of pride,
Cowardice, some silly over-subtle thought
Or anything called conscience once;
And that if memory recur, the sun's
Under eclipse and the day blotted out.
III
It is time that I wrote my will;
I choose upstanding men
That climb the streams until
The fountain leap, and at dawn
Drop their cast at the side
Of dripping stone; I declare
They shall inherit my pride,
The pride of people that were
Bound neither to Cause nor to State.
Neither to slaves that were spat on,
Nor to the tyrants that spat,
The people of Burke and of Grattan
That gave, though free to refuse --
pride, like that of the morn,
When the headlong light is loose,
Or that of the fabulous horn,
Or that of the sudden shower
When all streams are dry,
Or that of the hour
When the swan must fix his eye
Upon a fading gleam,
Float out upon a long
Last reach of glittering stream
And there sing his last song.
And I declare my faith:
I mock plotinus' thought
And cry in plato's teeth,
Death and life were not
Till man made up the whole,
Made lock, stock and barrel
Out of his bitter soul,
Aye, sun and moon and star, all,
And further add to that
That, being dead, we rise,
Dream and so create
Translunar paradise.
I have prepared my peace
With learned Italian things
And the proud stones of Greece,
Poet's imaginings
And memories of love,
Memories of the words of women,
All those things whereof
Man makes a superhuman,
Mirror-resembling dream.
As at the loophole there
The daws chatter and scream,
And drop twigs layer upon layer.
When they have mounted up,
The mother bird will rest
On their hollow top,
And so warm her wild nest.
I leave both faith and pride
To young upstanding men
Climbing the mountain-side,
That under bursting dawn
They may drop a fly;
Being of that metal made
Till it was broken by
This sedentary trade.
Now shall I make my soul,
Compelling it to study
In a learned school
Till the wreck of body,
Slow decay of blood,
Testy delirium
Or dull decrepitude,
Or what worse evil come --
The death of friends, or death
Of every brilliant eye
That made a catch in the breath -- .
Seem but the clouds of the sky
When the horizon fades;
Or a bird's sleepy cry
Among the deepening shades.
THE TOWER
I
HDRWHAT shall I do with this absurdity --
O heart, O troubled heart -- this caricature,
Decrepit age that has been tied to me
As to a dog's tail?
Never had I more
Excited, passionate, fantastical
Imagination, nor an ear and eye
That more expected the impossible --
No, not in boyhood when with rod and fly,
Or the humbler worm, I climbed Ben Bulben's back
And had the livelong summer day to spend.
It seems that I must bid the Muse go pack,
Choose Plato and Plotinus for a friend
Until imagination, ear and eye,
Can be content with argument and deal
In abstract things; or be derided by
A sort of battered kettle at the heel.
I pace upon the battlements and stare
On the foundations of a house, or where
Tree, like a sooty finger, starts from the earth;
And send imagination forth
Under the day's declining beam, and call
Images and memories
From ruin or from ancient trees,
For I would ask a question of them all.
Beyond that ridge lived Mrs. French, and once
When every silver candlestick or sconce
Lit up the dark mahogany and the wine.
A serving-man, that could divine
That most respected lady's every wish,
Ran and with the garden shears
Clipped an insolent farmer's ears
And brought them in a little covered dish.
Some few remembered still when I was young
A peasant girl commended by a Song,
Who'd lived somewhere upon that rocky place,
And praised the colour of her face,
And had the greater joy in praising her,
Remembering that, if walked she there,
Farmers jostled at the fair
So great a glory did the song confer.
And certain men, being maddened by those rhymes,
Or else by toasting her a score of times,
Rose from the table and declared it right
To test their fancy by their sight;
But they mistook the brightness of the moon
For the prosaic light of day --
Music had driven their wits astray --
And one was drowned in the great bog of Cloone.
Strange, but the man who made the song was blind;
Yet, now I have considered it, I find
That nothing strange; the tragedy began
With Homer that was a blind man,
And Helen has all living hearts betrayed.
O may the moon and sunlight seem
One inextricable beam,
For if I triumph I must make men mad.
And I myself created Hanrahan
And drove him drunk or sober through the dawn
From somewhere in the neighbouring cottages.
Caught by an old man's juggleries
He stumbled, tumbled, fumbled to and fro
And had but broken knees for hire
And horrible splendour of desire;
I thought it all out twenty years ago:
Good fellows shuffled cards in an old bawn;
And when that ancient ruffian's turn was on
He so bewitched the cards under his thumb
That all but the one card became
A pack of hounds and not a pack of cards,
And that he changed into a hare.
Hanrahan rose in frenzy there
And followed up those baying creatures towards --
O towards I have forgotten what -- enough!
I must recall a man that neither love
Nor music nor an enemy's clipped ear
Could, he was so harried, cheer;
A figure that has grown so fabulous
There's not a neighbour left to say
When he finished his dog's day:
An ancient bankrupt master of this house.
Before that ruin came, for centuries,
Rough men-at-arms, cross-gartered to the knees
Or shod in iron, climbed the narrow stairs,
And certain men-at-arms there were
Whose images, in the Great Memory stored,
Come with loud cry and panting breast
To break upon a sleeper's rest
While their great wooden dice beat on the board.
As I would question all, come all who can;
Come old, necessitous. half-mounted man;
And bring beauty's blind rambling celebrant;
The red man the juggler sent
Through God-forsaken meadows; Mrs. French,
Gifted with so fine an ear;
The man drowned in a bog's mire,
When mocking Muses chose the country wench.
Did all old men and women, rich and poor,
Who trod upon these rocks or passed this door,
Whether in public or in secret rage
As I do now against old age?
But I have found an answer in those eyes
That are impatient to be gone;
Go therefore; but leave Hanrahan,
For I need all his mighty memories.
Old lecher with a love on every wind,
Bring up out of that deep considering mind
All that you have discovered in the grave,
For it is certain that you have
Reckoned up every unforeknown, unseeing
plunge, lured by a softening eye,
Or by a touch or a sigh,
Into the labyrinth of another's being;
Does the imagination dwell the most
Upon a woman won or woman lost.?
If on the lost, admit you turned aside
From a great labyrinth out of pride,
Cowardice, some silly over-subtle thought
Or anything called conscience once;
And that if memory recur, the sun's
Under eclipse and the day blotted out.
III
It is time that I wrote my will;
I choose upstanding men
That climb the streams until
The fountain leap, and at dawn
Drop their cast at the side
Of dripping stone; I declare
They shall inherit my pride,
The pride of people that were
Bound neither to Cause nor to State.
Neither to slaves that were spat on,
Nor to the tyrants that spat,
The people of Burke and of Grattan
That gave, though free to refuse --
pride, like that of the morn,
When the headlong light is loose,
Or that of the fabulous horn,
Or that of the sudden shower
When all streams are dry,
Or that of the hour
When the swan must fix his eye
Upon a fading gleam,
Float out upon a long
Last reach of glittering stream
And there sing his last song.
And I declare my faith:
I mock plotinus' thought
And cry in plato's teeth,
Death and life were not
Till man made up the whole,
Made lock, stock and barrel
Out of his bitter soul,
Aye, sun and moon and star, all,
And further add to that
That, being dead, we rise,
Dream and so create
Translunar paradise.
I have prepared my peace
With learned Italian things
And the proud stones of Greece,
Poet's imaginings
And memories of love,
Memories of the words of women,
All those things whereof
Man makes a superhuman,
Mirror-resembling dream.
As at the loophole there
The daws chatter and scream,
And drop twigs layer upon layer.
When they have mounted up,
The mother bird will rest
On their hollow top,
And so warm her wild nest.
I leave both faith and pride
To young upstanding men
Climbing the mountain-side,
That under bursting dawn
They may drop a fly;
Being of that metal made
Till it was broken by
This sedentary trade.
Now shall I make my soul,
Compelling it to study
In a learned school
Till the wreck of body,
Slow decay of blood,
Testy delirium
Or dull decrepitude,
Or what worse evil come --
The death of friends, or death
Of every brilliant eye
That made a catch in the breath -- .
Seem but the clouds of the sky
When the horizon fades;
Or a bird's sleepy cry
Among the deepening shades.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Holy Is The Lord
Holy is your name, in all the earth I worship you
Holy is your name, in all the earth I come to you
Holy is your name, in all the earth I sing to you
Holy, Holy, Holy is your name
Holy are you Lord, I come before your throne and bow
Holy are you Lord, I come into your presence now
Holy are you Lord I listen to the angels sing
Holy, Holy, Holy are you Lord
Holy are you Lord, my heart it leaps within my chest
Holy are you Lord, Its in your arms I find my rest
Holy are you Lord, the saints around the world they sing
Holy, Holy, Holy are you Lord
Now listen to the saints, they sing Holy are you Lord
Now listen to them cry to you, Holy are you Lord
There is a cry around the world, they lift their voice and sing
Holy, Holy, Holy are you Lord
I come before your throne to sing, Holy is your name
I come before your throne to sing, I'll never be the same
Pour our out your fire of love on me, this is what I sing
Holy, Holy, to the risen King
poem by Frank McEleny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anima Ignis (Soul Fire)
This is the gift unto me: The power of the Judah Lion!
A holy, holy, present I see: It comes from the Mount Zion!
My Soul burns, My Spirit truly yearns,
God has given the power that discerns,
And gives my Soul Fire!
Many and many a moon ago,
A devil of temptation brought man low!
Yet a sacrifice was given to sinful man,
And achieved the impossible, which only holy blood can!
Through great pain and tempting,
His death brings me gain and my soul is singing...
Of all this weariness of Mortal Attire,
I sing of my Salvation, and my Soul Fire!
This is the Gift unto me: The power of the Judah Lion,
A holy, holy present is He: He comes from the Mount Zion,
My Soul burns, My Spirit yearns,
God has given the Power that discerns,
And gives me my Soul Fire!
poem by Joseph Oliver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When I Sing For Him
When I sing for him oh praise God's holy name I can feel his presence in my soul
When I sing for him oh blessed be his name how I rejoice within when I sing for him
As I sing a melody that he gave when I speak God's name in song or kneel to pray
Oh I have a special feeling deep within when I sing for him
When I sing for him in person hallelujah when I look to my new home hallelujah
Oh the angels will be singing hallelujah amen when I sing for him when I sing for him
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Holly Holy
Holly holy eyes
Dream of only you
Well I am what I am,
What I believe in
Holly holy
Holly holy dreams
Wanting only you
Yes she comes
And I run just like the wind will
Holly holy
Sing, sing a song
Sing, sing a song of songs
Sing, sing it out loud
Well sing a song
Let me hear you say, yeah, yeah - yeah
Call the sun in the dead of the night
And the sun will rise in the sky
Touch a man who cant walk upright
And the lame man, will be alright
And I fly
And I fly
Holly holy eyes
Wanting only you
And I see, will it be for everyone
Holly holy
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golden Streets Of Glory
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
Theres a city where the streets are paved in gold
A land where the milk and the honey flow
And a mansion which for me
cause my Bible tells the story
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Green meadows where the little children play
No sorrow there, just one long happy day
And none will litter there except the pure and the holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
And when Ive reached my journeys end
And if Im worthy to go in
Golden streets of glory, I walk on
And the golden streets of my new home
Will lead me up to the masters throne
With the angel band Ill sing
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Hallelujah, I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
And when Ive reached my journeys end
And if Im worthy to go in
Golden streets of glory, Ill walk on
And the golden streets of my new home
Will lead me up to the masters throne
With the angel band Ill sing
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Hallelujah, I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Alone Is Worthy
Sing along with the angels,
Adorned in white,
Kneel before Him
In honor of His throne
Sing along.
Thank Him for His mercy
For His council
Thank Him for His Glory
Thank Him.
Holy holy holy
Is His name
King forever
King of heaven and earth
Holy holy is He.
Mighty is His name
His kingdom everlasting
His love all enduring
Mighty is He.
Clap your hands
Stamp your feet
Raise your voices
And praise Him
For He alone is worthy
He alone is holy
Praise Him.
poem by Buxton Shippy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stonehaven Sunset
This song appears on three albums, and was first released on the flower that shattered the stone album, and has also been released on the stonehaven sunrise and the john denver collection - caly
Lbums.
Stonehaven sunset the waters on fire
My true love of singing, we kiss and conspire
Sing a song for the ocean a song for the sky
A song for tomorrow love sweet by and by
For the child who is coming and for dreams that come true
Sing a song for each other for me and for you
Sing a song for all lovers all the stars in the skies
Sing of stonehaven water home, stonehaven sunrise
Stonehaven sunset the deserts on fire
Christ on the cross again burns with desire
They are shooting at random though they aim at us all
Its the children who rise up and children who fall
All the angels are weeping the sweetest of tears
Fall like rivers of mercy to wash all our fears
Sing a song for old glory and a future that dies
Sing of stonehaven desert home, stonehaven sunrise
Stonehaven sunset the citys on fire
The soldiers just smile and say this guns for hire
Give in to the beast boy give in to the thrill
Its just human nature to hunt and to kill
We all die together and yet somehow alone
Just together we have memories and many are gone
Singing songs for old soldiers a chorus of sighs
Sing of stonehaven city home, stonehaven sunrise
Stonehaven sunset the mountains on fire
My spirit is lifted, rising higher and higher
All the prophets are laughing they say we told you so
Its one thing to play guessing games, another to know
For the needs of many are the sins of a few
And the day is forthcoming when accounting is due
Sing a song for sweet justice with a fire in her eyes
Sing of stonehaven mountain home, stonehaven sunrise
Stonehaven sunset the waters on fire
My true love of singing, we kiss and conspire
Sing a song for the ocean a song for the sky
A song for tomorrow love sweet by and by
For the child who is coming and for dreams that come true
Sing a song for each other for me and for you
Sing a song for all lovers all the stars in the skies
Sing of stonehaven water home, stonehaven sunrise
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Holy City
Midnight in the holy city
Playground for restless souls
Graveyards for the sons of ft. sumpter
And the ghostly daughters
Wait for their boys to come home
Moonlight in the holy city
So thick it warms the air
Burned my heart on a sweet southern flame
Like a hug from your mama saying it will be ok
Spilt my blood, in the holy city
Seen the flood of a thousand rains
I ran away from the holy city
Heard the spirits in the steeple singing
Youll be back again
Sunrise in the holy city
The kings and queens shuffle by
Im born here of my own ashes
Just lay me down here when I die
Spilt my blood, in the holy city
Seen the flood of a thousand rains
I ran away from the holy city
Heard the spirits in the steeple singing
Youll be back again
Ive seen visions
Lord Ive seen visions
Hanging in the summer sky
I fell in love, lost my heart
Laughed until I cried
song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song Of Singing
Sing! gangling lad, along the brink
Of wild brook-ways of shoal and deep,
Where killdees dip, and cattle drink,
And glinting little minnows leap!
Sing! slimpsy lass who trips above
And sets the foot-log quivering!
Sing! bittern, bumble-bee, and dove--
Sing! Sing! Sing!
Sing as you will, O singers all
Who sing because you _want_ to sing!
Sing! peacock on the orchard wall,
Or tree-toad by the trickling spring!
Sing! every bird on every bough--
Sing! every living, loving thing--
Sing any song, and anyhow,
But Sing! Sing! Sing!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Purified
Verse1
Where the angels see
You are praised as You should be.
But how can I express
My yearning for Your Holiness.
May it be (that)
Chorus
I will open my heart
Search me in the deepest part.
And I will stand in cleansing fire,
By You, purified,
By You I'm purified.
Verse 2
Savior of my soul
To your strength I yield control.
Purge me of my stain
Sin will lose it's mortal reign.
Make me free (and)
Chorus
I will open my heart
Search me in the deepest part.
And I will stand in cleansing fire,
By You, purified,
By You I'm purified.
Bridge
You are Holy
You are Holy
Yes You are Holy
You are Holy
You are Holy
Holy
Chorus
I will open my heart
Search me in the deepest part.
And I will stand in cleansing fire,
By You, purified,
By You I'm purified.
Bridge
You are Holy
You are Holy
Yes You are Holy
You are Holy
You are Holy
Holy
song performed by by Michael W. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A spirit and them.
She was cute, energetic and young,
possessed by the spirit and she sang,
The same old movie song that her dead lover liked,
Every new moon day she become irked,
Sparkling eyes of her twinkled in the starless nights,
Talked like a man and ate like a man,
She used to sing the famous Tamil song,
‘On the banks of the lake,
A lady walks,
Lady Peahen, please stop,
Let us talk and walk together'
While the head of the nuns,
Who was a good, evil spirit chaser,
Was busy with the holy cross and holy water,
Our friend continued to sing and clatter,
and the nun forced her to hold the holy cross,
And sprinkled the holy water on her head,
The girl never stopped singing and smiling,
The same old movie song to the sister,
Who was bold and enterprising in nature,
She ate everything raw, plant origin not animal,
When The sister ordered the evil spirit,
In the name of the Father, the son and the holy spirit,
to get out of her to rest in the Neem trees,
The trees, the Hindus plant in front of their homes,
The sister thought the guest had left quietly,
The girl started to snore heavily
The Sister dismissed herself voluntarily,
The male spirit smiled and winked at other girls regularly,
While they peeped through the blanket fearfully,
In the middle of the moonless night, monthly.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chorus The Ring
Hey there now young one wholly,
Swing along quote the scriptures,
Keep them guessing which pit you crawled from
Just defy it, just deny it,
Was it fun?
Your time has come
What have you done?
What have you done?
Thats when the insults start to sting
You cant remember anything
The chorus chiming
The greek chorus, the machine of god, singin
Its the poison that in measures
Brings illuminating vision
Its the knowing with a wink
That we expect in southern women
Its the wolf that knows which root to dig to save itself
Its the octopus that crawled back to the sea.
Thats when the insults start to sting
You cant remember anything
The chorus chiming, the greek chorus,
The machine of God sing.....
Hammered, shooting plywood in the backyard
Laughing cause the racket makes the blackbirds sing
Write the holy terror
Suck the marrow from the bone
Singe your own wings burning books,
You got the chorus and the ring
Thats when the insults start to sting
You cant remember anything
The chorus chiming, the greek chorus,
The machine sings.
Thats when the insults starts to sting
You cant remember anything
The chorus chiming, the greek chorus,
The machine sings.
Thats when the calibration brittle
As a stick hits you
The gold ring in the tar museum
Che quevera wink,
Gold ring
Gold ring.
Sing.
Sing.
Sing.
Sing.
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chorus & The Ring
Hey there now young one wholly,
Swing along quote the scriptures,
Keep them guessing which pit you crawled from
Just defy it, just deny it,
Was it fun?
Your time has come
What have you done?
What have you done?
That's when the insults start to sting
You can't remember anything
The chorus chiming
The greek chorus, the machine of god, singin'
It's the poison that in measures
Brings illuminating vision
It's the knowing with a wink
That we expect in southern women
It's the wolf that knows which root to dig to save itself
It's the octopus that crawled back to the sea.
That's when the insults start to sting
You can't remember anything
The chorus chiming, the greek chorus,
The machine of god sing.....
Hammered, shooting plywood in the backyard
Laughing 'cause the racket makes the blackbirds sing
Write the holy terror
Suck the marrow from the bone
Singe your own wings burning books,
You got the chorus and the ring
That's when the insults start to sting
You can't remember anything
The chorus chiming, the greek chorus,
The machine sings.
That's when the insults starts to sting
You can't remember anything
The chorus chiming, the greek chorus,
The machine sings.
That's when the calibration brittle
As a stick hits you
The gold ring in the tar museum
Che quevera wink,
Gold ring
Gold ring.
Sing.
Sing.
Sing.
Sing.
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Olive Fire
An olive fire's a lovely thing;
Somehow it makes me think of Spring
As in my grate it over-spills
With dancing flames like daffodils.
They flirt and frolic, twist and twine,
The brassy fire-irons wink and shine. . . .
Leap gold, you flamelets! Laugh and sing:
An olive fire's a lovely thing.
An olive fire's a household shrine:
A crusty loaf, a jug of wine,
An apple and a chunk of cheese -
Oh I could be content with these.
But if my curse of oil is there,
To fry a fresh-caught fish, I swear
I do not envy any king,
As sitting by my hearth I sing:
An olive fire's a lovely thing.
When old and worn, of life I tire,
I'll sit before an olive fire,
And watch the feather ash like snow
As softly as a rose heart glow;
The tawny roots will loose their hoard
Of sunbeams centuries have stored,
And flames like yellow chicken's cheep,
Till in my heart Peace is so deep:
With hands prayer-clasped I sleep . . . and sleep.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Four Angels
As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree
The Angel of the Earth came down, and offered Earth in fee;
But Adam did not need it,
Nor the plough he would not speed it,
Singing: --"Earth and Water, Air and Fire,
What more can mortal man desire?"
(The Apple Tree's in bud)
As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree
The Angel of the Waters offered all the Seas in fee;
But Adam would not take 'em,
Nor the ships he wouldn't make 'em,
Singing:--"Water, Earth and Air and Fire,
What more can mortal man desire? "
(The Apple Tree's in leaf.)
As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree
The Angel of the Air he offered all the Air in fee;
But Adam did not crave it,
Nor the flight he wouldn't brave it,
Singing: --"Air and Water, Earth and Fire,
What more can mortal man desire:"
(The Apple Tree's in bloom.)
As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree
The Angel of the Fire rose up and not a word said he;
But he wished a flame and made it,
And in Adam's heart he laid it,
Singing: --"Fire, Fire, burning Fire!
Stand up, and reach your heart's desire!"
(The Apple Blossom's set.)
As Adam was a-working outside of Eden-Wall,
He used the Earth, he used the Seas, he used the Air and all;
Till out of black disaster
He arose to be a master
Of Earth and Water, Air and Fire,
But never reached his heart's desire!
(The Apple Tree's cut down!)
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hero
Dont you like to see the hero take his licks like a man
Stand up and be tested and be true ?
Would you like to be a hero in your life ? well you can
Did you know its up to you ?
Would you trade your place with jesus on the cross if you could
Shining through eternity ?
Would it bother you to know that you can be just as good
As you really want to be ?
And if youre bound to do your duty then its time that you do
Look your future in the face
For the most important person in the world, which is you,
Or the whole damn human race
Chorus:
Theres a holy band of angels flying high through the night
Where no mortal ever trod
Singing holy, holy, holy, holy, oh, jesus christ
Is the lord almighty god
You see, the good thing is you dont have to be as good as jesus to
Start out with
All you gotta do ask yourself, how would gary cooper have done it
Or john kennedy
Or martin luther king
Or malcom x ?
Chorus:
Theres a holy band of angels flying high through the night
Where no mortal ever trod
Singing holy, holy, holy, holy, oh, jesus christ
Is the lord almighty god
song performed by by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Have A Blessed Christmas
Have a blessed Christmas, with your family,
Enjoy your day so much, let your day be;
Filled with joy, and hope, singing, and fun,
May God be with you, till the day is done.
Have a happy Christmas, and hope, surprises come,
As you remember the birth of Gods only Son;
And sing the carols about the Christmas Story,
How the angels sang, to God be the Glory.
Have a Special Christmas, to the lonely and the old,
To the sick, and Dying, you deserve a gift of Gold;
But gold we think of the Wisemen who came,
To see The New born King, Jesus is His Name.
poem by Margaret Haig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fire and Gold
Fire is gold aflame
Gold is fire solidified
Fire and gold gold and fire
Bring about the sunset of the Indian summer
I presume it caught the eyes of the blind bard
Who created his Helen from its effulgence
No wonder Euripedes hid her in fire
Because privacy of glorious light was her
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sing You Children
(words & music by nelson - burch)
Oh jonah he was desperate in the belly of the whale
Well jonah had a plan, he knew he couldnt fail
He raised his head on high
And looking for the sky
And he sang his song so pretty
The whale told him goodbye
You got to sing you children sing
Sing you children sing
I only know one thing, hey! hey! hey!
Sing you children sing, everybody
Sing you children sing
Sing your troubles away
Well moses said good lord
Open up these waters for me
So I can get your chidren
Across the salty sea
Well the lord parted the waters
And singing hand in hand
Moses and the children
Walked over to the promised land
You got to sing you children sing
Sing you children sing
I only know one thing, hey! hey! hey!
Sing you children sing, everybody
Sing you children sing
Sing your troubles away
Oh joshua had a plan
At the walls of jericho
Hed march around those walls
And on his horn hed blow
That horn would play a tune
And sing a happy song
When joshua got through
Those walls came tumbling down
You got to sing you children sing
Sing you children sing
I only know one thing, hey! hey! hey!
Sing you children sing, everybody
Sing you children sing
Sing your troubles away
You got to sing your troubles away
Sing your troubles away
Sing your troubles away
Sing your troubles away
Sing your troubles away
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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