The Sands Of Dee
"O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home
Across the sands of Dee";
The western wind was wild and dank with foam,
And all alone went she.
The western tide crept up along the sand,
And o'er and o'er the sand,
And round and round the sand,
As far as eye could see.
The rolling mist came down and hid the land:
And never home came she.
"Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair--
A tress of golden hair,
A drownèd maiden's hair
Above the nets at sea?
Was never salmon yet that shone so fair
Among the stakes on Dee."
They rowed her in across the rolling foam,
The cruel crawling foam,
The cruel hungry foam,
To her grave beside the sea:
But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home
Across the sands of Dee.
poem by Charles Kingsley
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
Related quotes
The Sea-Child
Into the world you sent her, mother,
Fashioned her body of coral and foam,
Combed a wave in her hair's warm smother,
And drove her away from home
In the dark of the night she crept to the town
And under a doorway she laid her down,
The little blue child in the foam-fringed gown.
And never a sister and never a brother
To hear her call, to answer her cry.
Her face shone out from her hair's warm smother
Like a moonkin up in the sky.
She sold her corals; she sold her foam;
Her rainbow heart like a singing shell
Broke in her body: she crept back home.
Peace, go back to the world, my daughter,
Daughter, go back to the darkling land;
There is nothing here but sad sea water,
And a handful of sifting sand.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cattle Call
Cattle Call
(sung by Elvis in concerts of the 1950s)
[In der mir vorliegenden Version summt er nur die Melodie.]
(Tex Owens)
The cattle are prowlin' and the coyotes are howlin'
Way out where the dogies bawl
Where spurs are a-jinglin' a cowboy is singin'
This lonesome cattle call
Woo-hoo woo-hoo hoo hoo
Woo-hoo woo-hoo hoo hoo
Woo-hoo woo-hoo hoo hoo hoo
Woo-hoo woo-hoo hoo
He rides in the sun, till his days work is done
And he rounds up the cattle each fall
Woo-hoo woo-hoo hoo hoo
Singin' his cattle call.
For hours he will ride on the range far and wide
When the night wind blows up a squall
His heart is a feather in all kinds of weather
He sings his cattle call
Woo-hoo woo-hoo hoo hoo
Woo-hoo woo-hoo hoo hoo
Woo-hoo woo-hoo hoo hoo hoo
Woo-hoo woo-hoo hoo
He's brown as a berry from ridin' the prairie
And sings with an ol' western drawl
Woo-hoo woo-hoo hoo hoo
Singin' his cattle call
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Cattle Call
(tex owens)
Woo - hoo - woo - ooo - ti - de
Woo - hoo - ooo - oop - I - de - de
Woo - hoo - woo - ooo - ti - de
Yod-el - od-el- lo - ti - de.
The cattle are prowlin the coyotes are howlin
Way out where the dogies bawl
Where spurs are a-jinglin, a cowboy is singin
This lonesome cattle call.
He rides in the sun til his days work is done
And he rounds up the cattle each fall
Woo - hoo - woo - ooo - ti - de
Singin his cattle call.
For hours he will ride on the range far and wide
When the night winds blow up a squall
His heart is a feather in all kinds of weather
He sings his cattle call.
Hes brown as a berry from ridin the prairie
And he sings with an ol western drawl
Woo - hoo - woo - ooo - ti - de
Singin his cattle call.
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Cattle Call (feat. Eddy Arnold)
[LEANN]
[Yodels]
The cattle are prowlin'
The coyotes are howlin'
Way out where the doggies roam
Where the spurs are a jinglin'
And the cowboy is singin'
His lonesome cattle call
[Yodels]
He rides in the sun
'Til his days work is done,
And he rounds up the cattle each fall
[Yodels]
Singing his cattle call
[EDDY]
For hours he would ride
On the range far and wide
When the night winds blows up like smoke
His heart is a feather
In all kinds of weather
He sings his cattle call
[Yodels]
He's browned as a fairy
From riding the prairie
And he sings with an old western drawl
[Yodels]
Singin' his cattle call
song performed by by LeAnn Rimes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Root Like A Rose
There's a green, green palce
Where you lift your face
To the sound of the waves and the wind
Down by the shore
Where my soul does endure
Where the mother sea ends and begins.
Take me home
To the sand and the foam
Where my dreams walk in the mist
I'll fall to the earth and root like a rose
In the salt land
That gave me my verse.
Though I wander afar
The same sea, the same stars
Still shine to the tears in my eyes
They take me home to a land
That my soul understands
Where the heart of the rose never dies.
Take me home
To the sand and the foam
Where my dreams walk in the mist
I'll fall to the earth and root like a rose
In the salt land
That gave me my verse...
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
In Praise of Songs that Die
AFTER HAVING READ A GREAT DEAL OF GOOD CURRENT POETRY IN THE MAGAZINES AND NEWSPAPERS
Ah, they are passing, passing by,
Wonderful songs, but born to die!
Cries from the infinite human seas,
Waves thrice-winged with harmonies.
Here I stand on a pier in the foam
Seeing the songs to the beach go home,
Dying in sand while the tide flows back,
As it flowed of old in its fated track.
Oh, hurrying tide that will not hear
Your own foam children dying near
Is there no refuge-house of song,
No home, no haven where songs belong?
Oh, precious hymns that come and go!
You perish, and I love you so!
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Llano Vaqueros
Padilla unloads mangy herd of Mexican
cattle in the field.
Meaner, horns long and sharp
for bloody battle, lean from a diet
of prairie weed, looking more
like cattle did years ago
on the plains
than cattle now–
sluggish, pampered globs
stalled year round
for State Fair Judges to admire,
stall-salon dolls, hooves manicured
and polished, hide-hair blow-dried, lips
and lashes waxed.
I ride down the dirt road
on Sunshine (my bay mare)
and she smarts
away from their disdainful glare–
come in, try to lasso us,
try to comb our hair.
I admire my ancestors, llano vaqueros,
who flicked a home-made cigarette in dust,
spit in scuffed gloves, grabbed one
by the horns, wrestled it down,
branded it, with the same pleasure
they enjoyed in a bunk-house brawl.
poem by Jimmy Santiago Baca
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The place I call home
I'm leaving now.
I'm going home.
I'm leaving now.
To the place I call home.
I won't come back.
I'll be at home.
I'll be happy there.
The place I call home.
Where the birds sing.
And the flowers dance.
Where the wind whispers.
In the place I call home.
The children play.
The stars sparkle.
The dogs bark.
In the place I call home.
I'm going now.
To my home.
Where I'll live freely
In the place I call home
poem by MyLittle Secret
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Coarse Morning
OH the yellow boisterous sea,
The surging, chafing, murderous sea!
And the wind-gusts hurtle the torn clouds by,
On to the south through a shuddering sky,
And the bare black ships scud aloof from the land.
'Tis as like the day as can be,
When the ship came in sight that came never to strand,
The ship that was blown on the sunken sand—
And he coming back to me!
Oh the great white snake of foam,
The coiling, writhing, snake of white foam,
Hissing and huddering out in the bay,
Over the banks where the wrecked ship lay,
Over the sands where the dead may lie deep!
There are some in the churchyard loam,
Some two or three the sea flung to our keep:
Their mothers can sit by a grave to weep,
But my son never came home.
Never, never, living or dead—
Oh, never, Willie, living or dead,
Could you keep your word and come back to me!
Oh, my darling! As like this day as can be,
When the ship came in sight that came never to strand,
When the ship came rounding the head,
Close to the haven and close to the sand.—
And their graves are long green that were tossed to land.
Ah, 'Sure to come back,' he said!
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You Call It Jogging
By: john loudermilk
You call it jogging i call it running around
You say you're losing weight but you ain't lost a pound
While you're out jogging with your other friends
I'm home feeding the kids again
You call it joggin' i call it running around
You call it joggin' i call it running around
It's the best release you say you've ever found
Your friends all smile and agree yeah you were running around on me
You call it joggin' i call it running around
Somebody said they saw you down at the corner getting out of some stranger's car
You come home after running for hours ain't even breathing hard
Hmmm
You call it joggin' i call it running around
The soles of your running shoes they ain't wearing down
While you're out running up and down the streets
I'm at home trying to get the kids to sleep
Shhh
You call it joggin' i call it running around
(let's take a lap or two)
You been out since 5pm
It's now 30 minutes past 10
You blow in all out of breath
Honey you been drinking gin again?
You call it joggin' i call it running around
Draggin that silly old towel all over town
You come home grinning with your hair all wet
Smelling like shampoo instead of sweat
Mmm mmm mmm
You call it joggin' i call it running around
Oh yeah
You all it joggin' i call it running around
Yeah
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Drovers Twain
WHERE was no shadow on the land,
No cloud in heaven's dome,
When, bearded man and beardless boy,
Our hearts alight with morning joy,
Across the hills of Duckmaloi
We drove the cattle home.
The sunrays danced a merry jig
On grass and bracken brown;
And right and left, and left and right,
The magpies piped in sheer delight,
As over creekside flat and height
We drove the cattle down.
With fiery eyes and tossing horns,
And swaying sides and hips,
They moved — red hides and hides of black —
And ever, as they left the track,
We wheeled, and held, and drove them back
With shouts and cracking whips.
There is no joy in all the world
Of such a bloom and blush
As that the charging rider feels
When at some frenzied scrubber's heels,
His stockwhip making curves and wheels,
He thunders through the bush.
Knees gripping hard, he dashes on,
The swift wind in his hair;
Whate'er befall, whate'er betide,
All thought of peril thrust aside,
He feels the glory and the pride
Of those who finely dare.
The moving mob was mountain-reared
And mountain-bred and born,
Their hides of brand and marking clear —
As shy as deer, as swift as deer
Who over heath and highland hear
The huntsman's early horn.
And yet with dog and spur and whip,
Our horses flaked with foam,
The magpies singing all the while,
Through hour and hour and mile and mile,
For all their speed of hoof and guile,
We brought the cattle home.
A score of years has passed away,
Slow filing on, since then;
And Time, who knows no sparing ruth,
And Wisdom, armed with bitter truth,
Have tamed the heart of reckless youth
And greyed the beards of men.
Yet evermore, when cattle low
Across the bracken brown,
I see again that man and boy
As when, alight with morning joy,
Across the hills of Duckmaloi
They drove the cattle down.
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Waves
From where come the waves
That beg and foam,
Call and plead
Rolling on never alone -
The sound and soul
Of the eternal sea,
In the spray upon the air
Come to fill a depth deep within me -
I hear and smell,
And become known;
Yet, knowing not the mystical
Flowing always, onward home -
Is this all in the great waters,
Or simply in how I see;
Are the waves the ocean
Or are the waves me?
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You Call It Joggin
By: john loudermilk
You call it jogging I call it running around
You say youre losing weight but you aint lost a pound
While youre out jogging with your other friends
Im home feeding the kids again
You call it joggin I call it running around
You call it joggin I call it running around
Its the best release you say youve ever found
Your friends all smile and agree yeah you were running around on me
You call it joggin I call it running around
Somebody said they saw you down at the corner getting out of some strangers car
You come home after running for hours aint even breathing hard
Hmmm
You call it joggin I call it running around
The soles of your running shoes they aint wearing down
While youre out running up and down the streets
Im at home trying to get the kids to sleep
Shhh
You call it joggin I call it running around
(lets take a lap or two)
You been out since 5pm
Its now 30 minutes past 10
You blow in all out of breath
Honey you been drinking gin again?
You call it joggin I call it running around
Draggin that silly old towel all over town
You come home grinning with your hair all wet
Smelling like shampoo instead of sweat
Mmm mmm mmm
You call it joggin I call it running around
Oh yeah
You all it joggin I call it running around
Yeah
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Long Way Home
Oh, its cold and lonely here-
Here in this telephone booth
Theres three sides to every story:
Yours and mine and the cold, hard truth
I think theres something missing round here
I dont know where its gone
But its a long way back home
The heat dont work
The toaster dont work
The car dont work
And I guess I know why
This house dont work and this dream dont
Work no more
And lover, neither do you and i
I fall asleep with the colors flying
Over sand and foam
But its a long way back home
And its a long way back home
And its a long way back home
Its a long way back home
song performed by by Don Henley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Cry For Home
Ill be waiting
Ill be waiting on that shore
To hear the cry for home
You wont have to worry anymore
When you hear the cry for home
When you hear, hear the call
You wont have to fake at all
Hear the cry for home
Ill be standing
Ill be standing within reach
When you hear, hear the call
Ill be waiting
Ill be waiting in the breach
For you, when you hear
When you hear, hear the call
You wont have to fake at all
Hear the cry for home
(instrumental)
When I listen
When I listen to the song
Well it feels, it feels so free
And you tell me
You will come and go with me
When you hear the cry for home
When you hear the call
You wont have to think at all
Hear the cry for home
Spoken (one more, one more time)
When you hear, hear the call
You wont have to fake at all
Hear the cry for home
(one more open it up, open it up) (spoken)
When you hear, hear the call
You wont have to fake at all
Hear the cry for home
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Tribute To Canada Revised
Canada is home to the Roccky Mountains
Canada is home to the golden mine
Canada is home to the Fishery in dustries
Canada is home to the oil industries
Canada is a land that was made for the refues from all over the world
That came here to start a new lives also
Canada is multicultural
Canada stand strong and free
Canada is my home also and I am proud also to call Canada my home
Canada is home to thte seaguls and the robyns
Canada is home to the foxes
Canada is home to the wild bears
Canada is home to the deers
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Children Of The Foam
OUT forever and forever,
Where our tresses glint and shiver
On the icy moonlit air;
Come we from a land of gloaming,
Children lost, forever homing,
Never, never reaching there;
Ride we, ride we, ever faster,
Driven by our demon master,
The wild wind in his despair.
Ride we, ride we, ever home,
Wan, white children of the foam.
In the wild October dawning,
When the heaven's angry awning
Leans to lakeward, bleak and drear;
And along the black, wet ledges,
Under icy, caverned edges,
Breaks the lake in maddened fear;
And the woods in shore are moaning;
Then you hear our weird intoning,
Mad, late children of the year;
Ride we, ride we, ever home,
Lost, white children of the foam.
All grey day, the black sky under,
Where the beaches moan and thunder,
Where the breakers spume and comb,
You may hear our riding, riding,
You may hear our voices chiding,
Under glimmer, under gloam;
Like a far-off infant wailing,
You may hear our hailing, hailing,
For the voices of our home;
Ride we, ride we, ever home,
Haunted children of the foam.
And at midnight, when the glimmer
Of the moon grows dank and dimmer,
Then we lift our gleaming eyes;
Then you see our white arms tossing,
Our wan breasts the moon embossing,
Under gloom of lake and skies;
You may hear our mournful chanting,
And our voices haunting, haunting,
Through the night's mad melodies;
Riding, riding, ever home,
Wild, white children of the foam.
There, forever and forever,
Will no demon-hate dissever
Peace and sleep and rest and dream:
There is neither fear nor fret there
When the tired children get there,
Only dews and pallid beam
Fall in gentle peace and sadness
Over long surcease of madness,
From hushed skies that gleam and gleam,
In the longed-for, sought-for home
Of the children of the foam.
There the streets are hushed and restful,
And of dreams is every breast full,
With the sleep that tired eyes wear;
There the city hath long quiet
From the madness and the riot,
From the failing hearts of care;
Balm of peacefulness ingliding,
Dream we through our riding, riding,
As we homeward, homeward fare;
Riding, riding, ever home,
Wild, white children of the foam.
Under pallid moonlight beaming,
Under stars of midnight gleaming,
And the ebon arch of night;
Round the rosy edge of morning,
You may hear our distant horning,
You may mark our phantom flight;
Riding, riding, ever faster,
Driven by our demon master,
Under darkness, under light;
Ride we, ride we, ever home,
Wild, white children of the foam.
poem by William Wilfred Campbell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Who Goes Home?
In the city set upon slime and loam
They cry in their parliament 'Who goes home?'
And there comes no answer in arch or dome,
For none in the city of graves goes home.
Yet these shall perish and understand,
For God has pity on this great land.
Men that are men again; who goes home?
Tocsin and trumpeter! Who goes home?
For there's blood on the field and blood on the foam
And blood on the body when Man goes home.
And a voice valedictory . . . Who is for Victory?
Who is for Liberty? Who goes home?
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
The Surfer
He thrust his joy against the weight of the sea;
climbed through, slid under those long banks of
foam--
(hawthorn hedges in spring, thorns in the face stinging).
How his brown strength drove through the hollow and coil
of green-through weirs of water!
Muscle of arm thrust down long muscle of water;
and swimming so, went out of sight
where mortal, masterful, frail, the gulls went wheeling
in air as he in water, with delight.
Turn home, the sun goes down; swimmer, turn home.
Last leaf of gold vanishes from the sea-curve.
Take the big roller’s shoulder, speed and serve;
come to the long beach home like a gull diving.
For on the sand the grey-wolf sea lies, snarling,
cold twilight wind splits the waves’ hair and shows
the bones they worry in their wolf-teeth. O, wind blows
and sea crouches on sand, fawning and mouthing;
drops there and snatches again, drops and again snatches
its broken toys, its whitened pebbles and shells.
poem by Judith Wright
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Who Goes Home?
In the city set upon slime and loam
They cry in their parliament 'Who goes home?'
And there comes no answer in arch or dome,
For none in the city of graves goes home.
Yet these shall perish and understand,
For God has pity on this great land.
Men that are men again; who goes home?
Tocsin and trumpeter! Who goes home?
For there's blood on the field and blood on the foam
And blood on the body when Man goes home.
And a voice valedictory . . . Who is for Victory?
Who is for Liberty? Who goes home?
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!