To-morrow
The lighthouse shines across the sea;
The homing fieldfares sing for glee:
'Behold the shore!'
Alas for shattered wing and breast!
The lighthouse breakers make their nest,
And hedges bloom for them no more -
No more.
In their old church the lovers stand.
His wedding ring is on her hand,
All partings o'er.
Alas for mother still and cold
The babe her dead young arms enfold!
Her lover will know love no more -
No more.
What fate is this for birds and men?
The blue empyrean theirs - and then -
This fast-closed door.
One answers from his bended knee:
'Another morrow comes, saith he,
'A day that brings the night no more -
No more.'
Ah, happy one! Yet happier he
Who knows he knows not what will be;
Who has no lore
To read the runes of life and death,
But lives his best while he has breath,
And leaves with God the evermore -
The evermore.
poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Guiding Light
Like a lighthouse on a stormy night,
that shines bright for ailing ships,
to steer them to a friendly port.
I need a light to guide me,
to her awaiting arms.
A guiding light to lead me safely,
to her open door.
That I may end my search,
with love warmth evermore.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Night to Ponder
A Night to Ponder
By: Adam M. Snow
Alone I sat a night to ponder, in my chambers going yonder.
Alas! I pondered all is dreary, like the weeping reaper weary,
Like the ancient lore spoke unto me evermore,
Quoth a line, a verse from vital flame -
'A life to live, to live a dream' a secret to life, so it seems.
It is but that and nothing more, quoth the verse, the forgotten lore.
And so shall come the life's of some, alas! Mine shall be the dreadful: nevermore!
Alas! Mine shall be divine, echoes of sorrow reached across time for evermore.
It is but that and nothing more, quoth the verse, the forgotten lore.
Suddenly I came to remember the dawn of morning ember,
On a cold, cold November morn,
I rose from my chambers locked in shackles,
The feelings of betrayal, thoughts of hackles kept me sane.
I laughed and jest as I laid to rest,
Betrayed as the world could see.
I know of no reason why I darkened my season,
But it be sanctimonious, felonious my erroneous alone,
But I beseeched my demons, my own,
For melancholy is my one desire, cast out into a pit of fire.
To die and be reborn again and again,
Only to find myself dreaming of every sin.
But still I long for the forgotten lore,
A spoken truth now lies.
I pondered all the lore's of some, not knowing when the Dawn will come,
And so shall come the life's of some, alas! Mine shall be the dreadful: nevermore!
poem by Adam M. Snow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Story
They met each other in the glade –
She lifted up her eyes;
Alack the day! Alack the maid!
She blushed in swift surprise.
Alas! Alas! the woe that comes from lifting up the eyes.
The pail was full, the path was steep –
He reached to her his hand;
She felt her warm young pulses leap,
But did not understand.
Alas! Alas! the woe that comes from clasping hand with hand.
She sat beside him in the wood –
He wooed with words and sighs;
Ah! love in spring seems sweet and good,
And maidens are not wise.
Alas! Alas! the woe that comes from listing lovers’ sighs.
The summer sun shone fairly down,
The wind blew from the south;
As his blue eyes gazed in eyes of brown,
His kiss fell on her mouth.
Alas! Alas! the woe that comes from kisses on the mouth.
And now the autumn time is near,
The lover roves away,
With breaking heart and falling tear,
She sits the livelong day.
Alas! Alas! for breaking hearts when lovers rove away.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lighthouse the little heaven
i have seen the heaven, i have conquer the sky
i have surf the ocean and expose the wild wind
in my outmost form.... I am a witness to all
I come in many heights and bends various degrees,
just to let you see, the vast sea that everybody want
to look, I kept people happy anytime of the day, as
they climb to the stair their hearts and body makes
them very healthy
everyone’s wish in the top they quest, as the fresh
breath air comes, their lonely soul quench for more
for in the lighthouse they always stopped, my stand
brings them see the beauty of the sky they wish
to be, now I know why old and young wants me to
stay
birds dive from the distance blue water, aim to hold
for another day, as wind blew from the waving shore,
my stand had waited them to fall, and the light glance
shows as it paste in my daring wall as they anchored
wish may go for century I guided the mariners, the lost
ship and the fishermen surmounting the angry
wave and the trembling roar of the hungry sea, the
turmoil of wind shelter the astray flying species for,
where ever I may go they will always be there to stay
I take the pride, for what more wish I pray, I will still be
remained ….. a lighthouse…… a little heaven... near the
blue water sea’s
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Way Home
The long and lonely Ocean dark and silent,
The only thing that shines is the lighthouse,
Long and narrow and shows the way home,
The kids are happy to hear the horn of the ship,
Daddy’s almost home,
Daddy sees the lighthouse, he’s happy and joyous,
The light shines bright that shows the way home,
The long and narrow building,
The lighthouse,
Oh the lighthouse,
Thank God we’re almost home
poem by Jessica Losoya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Corn Grinders
O little mouse, why dost thou cry
While merry stars laugh in the sky?
Alas! alas! my lord is dead!
Ah, who will ease my bitter pain?
He went to seek a millet-grain
In the rich farmer's granary shed;
They caught him in a baited snare,
And slew my lover unaware:
Alas! alas! my lord is dead.
O little deer, why dost thou moan,
Hid in thy forest-bower alone?
Alas! alas! my lord is dead!
Ah! who will quiet my lament?
At fall of eventide he went
To drink beside the river-head;
A waiting hunter threw his dart,
And struck my lover through the heart.
Alas! alas! my lord is dead.
O little bride, why dost thou weep
With all the happy world asleep?
Alas! alas! my lord is dead!
Ah, who will stay these hungry tears,
Or still the want of famished years,
And crown with love my marriage-bed?
My soul burns with the quenchless fire
That lit my lover's funeral pyre:
Alas! alas! my lord is dead.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Hunting Song
Hunters, where does Hope nest?
Not in the half-oped breast,
Nor the young rose,
Nor April sunrise—those
With a quick wing she brushes,
The wide world through,
Greets with the throat of thrushes,
Fades from as fast as dew.
But, would you spy her sleeping,
Cradled warm,
Look in the breast of weeping,
The tree stript by storm;
But, would you bind her fast,
Yours at last,
Bed-mate and lover,
Gain the last headland bare
That the cold tides cover,
There may you capture her, there,
Where the sea gives to the ground
Only the drift of the drowned.
Yet, if she slips you, once found,
Push to her uttermost lair
In the low house of despair.
There will she watch by your head,
Sing to you till you be dead,
Then, with your child in her breast,
In another heart build a new nest.
poem by Edith Wharton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Autumnal
THE Autumn leaves are dying quietly,
Scarlet and orange, underfoot they lie;
They had their youth and prime
And now's the dying time;
Alas, alas, the young, the beloved, must die!
They are dying like the leaves of Autumn fast,
Scattered and broken, blown on every blast:
The darling young, the brave,
Love had no power to save.
Poor Love-lies-bleeding, Love's in ruins, downcast.
Alas, alas, the Autumn leaves are flying!
They had their Summer and 'tis time for dying.
But these had barely Spring.
Love trails a broken wing,
Walks through deserted woods, moaning and sighing.
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wedding Bands
Wedding Bands
I placed a ring on her left hand
A plain white gold wedding band
With all my love this ring is from me
I also wore a ring for people to see
Today the rings have become something more
They also tie us together for evermore
Mine is still on my left hand
From my neck hangs her wedding band
I feel her in my heart and in my life
I still think of her as my wife
poem by Michael Gelb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Lighthouse
The Lighthouse
By: Adam M. Snow
Come to my lighthouse;
so that I may light your way.
Come to my lighthouse;
a place for you to stay.
Where darkness hides;
the demons flees.
For I'll provide;
and you'll be at ease.
Come to my lighthouse;
for all is welcome;
even your spouse;
and those who are numb.
Come to my lighthouse;
my friend, my child.
to a place where there is no louse;
for you are also mild.
Come to my lighthouse;
so that I may light your way.
Come to my lighthouse;
a place for you to stay.
poem by Adam M. Snow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Belated Swallow
And the birds of the air have nests.”
Belated swallow, whither flying?
The day is dead, the light is dying,
The night draws near:
Where is thy nest, slow put together,
Soft-lined with moss and downy feather,
For shelter-place in stress of weather
And darkness drear?
Past, past, above the lighted city,
Unknowing of my wondering pity,
Seaward she flies.
Alas, poor bird! what rude awaking
Has driven thee forth, when storms are breaking,
And frightened gulls the waves forsaking
With warning cries?
Alas, my soul! while leaves are greenest
Thy heedless head thou fondly screenest
Beneath thy wing.
How bravely thou thy plumage wearest,
How lightly thou life's burthen bearest,
How happily thy home preparest,
In careless spring!
Yet Destiny the hour may bring thee
When none of all that sing can sing thee
To joy or rest!
When all the winds that blow shall blow thee;
And, ere the floods shall overflow thee,
The sunlight linger but to show thee
Thy shattered nest
poem by Mary Hannay Foott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Variations of Greek Themes
I
A HAPPY MAN
(Carphyllides)
When these graven lines you see,
Traveler, do not pity me;
Though I be among the dead,
Let no mournful word be said.
Children that I leave behind,
And their children, all were kind;
Near to them and to my wife,
I was happy all my life.
My three sons I married right,
And their sons I rocked at night;
Death nor sorrow ever brought
Cause for one unhappy thought.
Now, and with no need of tears,
Here they leave me, full of years,—
Leave me to my quiet rest
In the region of the blest.
II
A MIGHTY RUNNER
(Nicarchus)
The day when Charmus ran with five
In Arcady, as I’m alive,
He came in seventh.—“Five and one
Make seven, you say? It can’t be done.”—
Well, if you think it needs a note,
A friend in a fur overcoat
Ran with him, crying all the while,
“You’ll beat ’em, Charmus, by a mile!”
And so he came in seventh.
Therefore, good Zoilus, you see
The thing is plain as plain can be;
And with four more for company,
He would have been eleventh.
III
THE RAVEN
(Nicarchus)
The gloom of death is on the raven’s wing,
The song of death is in the raven’s cries:
But when Demophilus begins to sing,
The raven dies.
IV
EUTYCHIDES
(Lucilius)
Eutychides, who wrote the songs,
Is going down where he belongs.
O you unhappy ones, beware:
Eutychides will soon be there!
For he is coming with twelve lyres,
And with more than twice twelve quires
Of the stuff that he has done
In the world from which he’s gone.
Ah, now must you know death indeed,
For he is coming with all speed;
And with Eutychides in Hell,
Where’s a poor tortured soul to dwell?
V
DORICHA
(Posidippus)
So now the very bones of you are gone
Where they were dust and ashes long ago;
And there was the last ribbon you tied on
To bind your hair, and that is dust also;
And somewhere there is dust that was of old
A soft and scented garment that you wore—
The same that once till dawn did closely fold
You in with fair Charaxus, fair no more.
But Sappho, and the white leaves of her song,
Will make your name a word for all to learn,
And all to love thereafter, even while
It’s but a name; and this will be as long
As there are distant ships that will return
Again to your Naucratis and the Nile.
VI
THE DUST OF TIMAS
(Sappho)
This dust was Timas; and they say
That almost on her wedding day
She found her bridal home to be
The dark house of Persephone.
And many maidens, knowing then
That she would not come back again,
Unbound their curls; and all in tears,
They cut them off with sharpened shears.
VII
ARETEMIAS
(Antipater of Sidon)
I’m sure I see it all now as it was,
When first you set your foot upon the shore
Where dim Cocytus flows for evermore,
And how it came to pass
That all those Dorian women who are there
In Hades, and still fair,
Came up to you, so young, and wept and smiled
When they beheld you and your little child.
And then, I’m sure, with tears upon your face
To be in that sad place,
You told of the two children you had borne,
And then of Euphron, whom you leave to mourn.
“One stays with him,” you said,
“And this one I bring with me to the dead.”
VIII
THE OLD STORY
(Marcus Argentarius)
Like many a one, when you had gold
Love met you smiling, we are told;
But now that all your gold is gone,
Love leaves you hungry and alone.
And women, who have called you more
Sweet names than ever were before,
Will ask another now to tell
What man you are and where you dwell.
Was ever anyone but you
So long in learning what is true?
Must you find only at the end
That who has nothing has no friend?
IX
TO-MORROW
(Macedonius)
To-morrow? Then your one word left is always now the same;
And that’s a word that names a day that has no more a name.
To-morrow, I have learned at last, is all you have to give:
The rest will be another’s now, as long as I may live.
You will see me in the evening?—And what evening has there been,
Since time began with women, but old age and wrinkled skin?
X
LAIS TO APHRODITE
(Plato)
When I, poor Lais, with my crown
Of beauty could laugh Hellas down,
Young lovers crowded at my door,
Where now my lovers come no more.
So, Goddess, you will not refuse
A mirror that has now no use;
For what I was I cannot be,
And what I am I will not see.
XI
AN INSCRIPTION BY THE SEA
(Glaucus)
No dust have I to cover me,
My grave no man may show;
My tomb is this unending sea,
And I lie far below.
My fate, O stranger, was to drown;
And where it was the ship went down
Is what the sea-birds know.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An Introduction To The Ensuing Discourse.
These lines I at this time present
To all that will them heed,
Wherein I show to what intent
God saith, Convert[2] with speed.
For these four things come on apace,
Which we should know full well,
Both death and judgment, and, in place
Next to them, heaven and hell.
For doubtless man was never born
For this life and no more:
No, in the resurrection morn
They must have weal or woe.
Can any think that God should take
That pains, to form a man
So like himself, only to make
Him here a moment stand?
Or that he should make such ado,
By justice, and by grace;
By prophets and apostles too,
That men might see his face?
Or that the promise he hath made,
Also the threatenings great,
Should in a moment end and fade?
O! no, this is a cheat.
Besides, who is so mad, or worse,
To think that Christ should come
From glory, to be made a curse,
And that in sinners' room,
If nothing should by us be had
When we are gone from hence,
But vanities, while here? O mad
And foolish confidence.
Again, shall God, who is the truth,
Say there is heaven and hell
And shall men play that trick of youth
To say, But who can tell?
Shall he that keeps his promise sure
In things both low and small,
Yet break it like a man impure,
In matters great'st of all?
O, let all tremble at that thought,
That puts on God the lie,
That saith men shall turn unto nought
When they be sick and die.
Alas, death is but as the door
Through which all men do pass,
To that which they for evermore
Shall have by wrath or grace.
Let all therefore that read my lines,
Apply them to the heart:
Yea, let them read, and turn betimes,
And get the better part.
Mind therefore what I treat on here,
Yea, mind and weigh it well;
'Tis death and judgment, and a clear
Discourse of heaven and hell.
poem by John Bunyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ballade Of The Voyage To Cythera
I know Cythera long is desolate;
I know the winds have stripp'd the gardens green.
Alas, my friends! beneath the fierce sun's weight
A barren reef lies where Love's flowers have been,
Nor ever lover on that coast is seen!
So be it, but we seek a fabled shore,
To lull our vague desires with mystic lore,
To wander where Love's labyrinths beguile;
There let us land, there dream for evermore:
'It may be we shall touch the happy isle.'
The sea may be our sepulchre. If Fate,
If tempests wreak their wrath on us, serene
We watch the bolt of heaven, and scorn the hate
Of angry gods that smite us in their spleen.
Perchance the jealous mists are but the screen
That veils the fairy coast we would explore.
Come, though the sea be vex'd, and breakers roar,
Come, for the air of this old world is vile,
Haste we, and toil, and faint not at the oar;
'It may be we shall touch the happy isle.'
Grey serpents trail in temples desecrate
Where Cypris smiled, the golden maid, the queen,
And ruined is the palace of our state;
But happy Loves flit round the mast, and keen
The shrill wind sings the silken cords between.
Heroes are we, with wearied hearts and sore,
Whose flower is faded and whose locks are hoar,
Yet haste, light skiffs, where myrtle thickets smile;
Love's panthers sleep 'mid roses, as of yore:
'It may be we shall touch the happy isle!'
ENVOY.
Sad eyes! the blue sea laughs, as heretofore.
Ah, singing birds your happy music pour!
Ah, poets, leave the sordid earth awhile;
Flit to these ancient gods we still adore:
'It may be we shall touch the happy isle!'
poem by Andrew Lang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When You Think About Love
I smile to myself
as I read each poem
and each word and think
oh what wonder this brings
for loved ones and friends
the expression of love
is so rare to find
and to be able to put
them in words evermore
are a true sign of love
that will endure evermore
when you think about love
is it a sunbeam that reflects of the seas
or a star that bursts and shatters to earth
is it the time as it passes with each loving step
you share with your love now and evermore
is it his laughter his humor
that makes you feel warm inside
is it his talent of wonder
that makes you burst with pride
you smile and cry with laughter and joy
and know that he is yours evermore
my heart is his when he mended it back
together from pieces he found on the floor
with love and affection he brought back to life
my heart my soul my love evermore
he knows who he is my hero my friend
the man of my dreams
now and evermore
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You Have Let The Beauty Of The Day Go Over
You have let the beauty of the day go over,
You have let the glory of the noon go by.
Clouds from the West have gathered close and cover
All but a remnant now of our proud sky.
Dumbly the rain beats on our darkened faces.
Hushed are the woods. Alas, for us no bird
Shall sing to--day of pleasure in green places,
No touch shall thrill, no soul of leaves be stirred.
Why did we wait? What faith was ours in fortune?
What was our pride that fate should kneel to us?
Oh, we were fools. Love loves not to importune,
And he is silent here in this sad house.
Alas, dear love, the day for us is ended,
The pleasure of green fields, of streams, of skies.
One hour remains, one only of joy blended
With coming night. Ah, seize it ere it flies.
Draw fast the curtains. Close the door on sorrow.
Shut out the dusk. It only makes us grieve.
Here we may live a life,--and then, to--morrow,
If fate still wills it, we may take our leave.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
At The Last.
The sky grows white with the moon,
And the sea yearns up to the night
As the soul to an unknown height,
Drawn thence by a starry rune.
Only a lost wind strays,
Like the breath of Passion blown
In the vault of the night unknown;
And the heart in me sobs and says:
'After a while we, too,
Shall rest as the stars above,
When we have no more to do
With the dream of life and love.'
O Time! thy feet that run
Over the hills and waves,
Over the cradles and graves,
From the first to the final sun!
Some day thou too shalt cease —
Some way there'll come to thee
Death's white tranquility,
The boon of an awful peace —
When the latest grief shall flow
With the surge that drifts away,
And the Night shall no more go
In her endless chase of Day.
Then shall the worn heart rest,
Then shall the sad Sea yearn
No more for the Moon's return,
Like a bird on its frozen nest
Dead, with her young ones dead
Under her breast on the bough,
Where nothing can wake them now —
Not the Dawn with its golden tread:
Where Death has been good to all,
Good to the mother and young,
And the dreams are beyond recall,
And the songs have all been sung.
So, at the last, to sleep!
So, at the last, to be
Still as the dead still sea!
Never to wake and weep,
Never to know Love's pain,
Never to yearn on for
What is gone for evermore;
To be as we were again
Ere we came o'er the bourne of birth,
Ere we knew of the fading flowers,
Of love and of life on Earth
And the hearts that were not ours!
poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Born On A Natural Wing
Love born on a natural wing,
young hearts that sing
springs song of joy
effects the heart of the sly and coy.
Breeze cool, crisp and clean,
ruffles leaves on trees where lovers lean.
Lanes of a million feet before,
fill again with lover’s lore.
Sleepy hollows feel springs touch;
awaken beauty from the sleepy hush.
The sun spreads warmth from the sky,
looking down with its yellow eye.
Birds fly south on the wing,
now winter has kissed everything.
My, my how times does fly,
hear the wedding bells of June and July.
Again, we wake to an autumn morn;
winds are harsh and full of scorn.
Snow again will adorn our eyes.
A blanket of white before us lies,
Oh we ode for again the spring,
and love born on a natural wing.
1976
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The significant sun
The glow grows by day
And the plants make food
Flowers bloom
Lovers meet
Nighttime heat
The sun shines not at night but
But by day
The birds of the air
Chirp a melody
Whistling and fooling
For the curious to see
Why they play
The sun shines not at night
But by day
He hides his glow
Cause he cannot bear to see
The fright of the dark night
And the rays are no more there
Instead cold, musty air
Cold as the heart of the night
Brought about by no light
The sun shines not at night
But by day
Joyful laughter emerges faces
Greeting the bright mourning
Leaving the eerie night behind
The sun brings hope
The night brings fright
And the innocent hearts
Too fragile to bear the sight
Closes its eyes and wishes
For light
The sun shines not at night
But by day
poem by Rachael Hardy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Water Lady
Alas, the moon should ever beam
To show what man should never see!—
I saw a maiden on a stream,
And fair was she!
I staid awhile, to see her throw
Her tresses black, that all beset
The fair horizon of her brow
With clouds of jet.
I staid a little while to view
Her cheek, that wore in place of red
The bloom of water, tender blue,
Daintily spread.
I staid to watch, a little space,
Her parted lips if she would sing;
The waters closed above her face
With many a ring.
And still I staid a little more,
Alas! she never comes again!
I throw my flowers from the shore,
And watch in vain.
I know my life will fade away,
I know that I must vainly pine,
For I am made of mortal clay,
But she's divine!
poem by Thomas Hood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!