The Welsh Marches
High the vanes of Shrewsbury gleam
Islanded in Severn stream;
The bridges from the steepled crest
Cross the water east and west.
The flag of morn in conqueror's state
Enters at the English gate:
The vanquished eve, as night prevails,
Bleeds upon the road to Wales.
Ages since the vanquished bled
Round my mother's marriage-bed;
There the ravens feasted far
About the open house of war:
When Severn down to Buildwas ran
Coloured with the death of man,
Couched upon her brother's grave
That Saxon got me on the slave.
The sound of fight is silent long
That began the ancient wrong;
Long the voice of tears is still
That wept of old the endless ill.
In my heart it has not died,
The war that sleeps on Severn side;
They cease not fighting, east and west,
On the marches of my breat.
Here the truceless armies yet
Trample, rolled in blood and sweat;
They kill and kill and never die;
And I think that each is I.
None will part us, none undo
The knot that makes one flesh of two,
Sick with hatred, sick with pain,
Strangling-- When shall we be slain?
When shall I be dead and rid
Of the wrong my father did?
How long, how long, till spade and hearse
Puts to sleep my mother's curse?
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
West End Girls
(....forever)
Sometimes youre better off dead
Theres gun in your hand and its pointing at your head
You think youre mad, too unstable
Kicking in chairs and knocking down tables
In a restaurant in a west end town
Call the police, theres a madman around
Running down underground to a dive bar
In a west end town
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
West end girls
Too many shadows, whispering voices
Faces on posters, too many choices
If, when, why, what?
How much have you got?
Have you got it, do you get it, if so, how often?
And which do you choose, a hard or soft option?
(how much do you need? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
West end girls
West end girls
(how much do you need? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
Oooh west end town, a dead end world
East end boys, west end girls
West end girls
Youve got a heart of glass or a heart of stone
Just you wait till I get you home
Weve got no future, weve got no past
Here today, built to last
In every city, in every nation
From lake geneva to the finland station
(how far have you been? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
A west end town, a dead end world
East end boys, west end girls
West end girls
West end girls
West end girls
(how far have you been? )
Girls
East end boys
And west end girls
And west end girls
And west end girls
East end boys
The west end girls
The west end boys
And west end girls
The west end girls
The west end boys
The west end girls
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Roll Me Away
Words and music by bob seger
Took a look down a westbound road,
Right away I made my choice
Headed out to my big two-wheeler,
I was tired of my own voice
Took a bead on the northern plains
And just rolled that power on
Twelve hours out of mackinaw city
Stopped in a bar to have a brew
Met a girl and we had a few drinks
And I told her what Id decided to do
She looked out the window a long long moment
Then she looked into my eyes
She didnt have to say a thing,
I knew what she was thinkin
Roll, roll me away,
Wont you roll me away tonight
I too am lost, I feel double-crossed
And Im sick of whats wrong and whats right
We never even said a word,
We just walked out and got on that bike
And we rolled
And we rolled clean out of sight
We rolled across the high plains
Deep into the mountains
Felt so good to me
Finally feelin free
Somewhere along a high road
The air began to turn cold
She said she missed her home
I headed on alone
Stood alone on a mountain top,
Starin out at the great divide
I could go east, I could go west,
It was all up to me to decide
Just then I saw a young hawk flyin
And my soul began to rise
And pretty soon
My heart was singin
Roll, roll me away,
Im gonna roll me away tonight
Gotta keep rollin, gotta keep ridin,
Keep searchin till I find whats right
And as the sunset faded
I spoke to the faintest first starlight
And I said next time
Next time
Well get it right
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Echo
Of A Ballad Sung By H. Plunket Greene To His Old School
Twice three hundred boys were we,
Long ago, long ago,
Where the Downs look out to the Severn Sea.
Clifton for aye!
We held by the game and hailed the team,
For many could play where few could dream.
City of Song shall stand alway.
Some were for profit and some for pride,
Long ago, long ago,
Some for the flag they lived and died.
Clifton for aye!
The work of the world must still be done,
And minds are many though truth be one.
City of Song shall stand alway.
But a lad there was to his fellows sang,
Long ago, long ago,
And soon the world to his music rang.
Clifton for aye!
Follow your Captains, crown your Kings,
But what will ye give to the lad that sings?
City of Song shall stand alway.
For the voice ye hear is the voice of home,
Long ago, long ago,
And the voice of Youth with the world to roam.
Clifton for aye!
The voice of passion and human tears,
And the voice of the vision that lights the years.
City of Song shall stand alway.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Farewell to Barn and Stack and Tree
"Farewell to barn and stack and tree,
Farewell to Severn shore.
Terence, look your last at me,
For I come home no more.
"The sun burns on the half-mown hill,
By now the blood is dried;
And Maurice amongst the hay lies still
And my knife is in his side.
"My mother thinks us long away;
'Tis time the field were mown.
She had two sons at rising day,
To-night she'll be alone.
"And here's a bloody hand to shake,
And oh, man, here's good-bye;
We'll sweat no more on scythe and rake,
My bloody hands and I.
"I wish you strength to bring you pride,
And a love to keep you clean,
And I wish you luck, come Lammastide,
At racing on the green.
"Long for me the rick will wait,
And long will wait the fold,
And long will stand the empty plate,
And dinner will be cold."
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
England
ENGLAND, England, England,
Girdled by ocean and skies,
And the power of a world, and the heart of a race,
And a hope that never dies.
England, England, England,
Wherever a true heart beats,
Wherever the rivers of commerce flow,
Wherever the bugles of conquest blow,
Wherever the glories of liberty grow,
'Tis the name that the world repeats.
And ye, who dwell in the shadow
Of the century-sculptured piles,
Where sleep our century-honoured dead,
Whilst the great world thunders overhead,
And far out, miles on miles,
Beyond the smoke of the mighty town,
The blue Thames dimples and smiles;
Not yours alone the glory of old,
Of the splendid thousand years,
Of Britain's might and Britain's right
And the brunt of British spears.
Not yours alone, for the great world round,
Ready to dare and do,
Scot and Celt and Norman and Dane,
With the Northman's sinew and heart and brain,
And the Northman's courage for blessing or bane,
Are England's heroes too.
North and south and east and west,
Wherever their triumphs be,
Their glory goes home to the ocean-girt isle,
Where the heather blooms and the roses smile,
With the green isle under her lee.
And if ever the smoke of an alien gun
Should threaten her iron repose,
Shoulder to shoulder against the world,
Face to face with her foes,
Scot, and Celt and Saxon are one
Where the glory of England goes.
And we of the newer and vaster West,
Where the great war-banners are furled,
And commerce hurries her teeming hosts,
And the cannon are silent along our coasts,
Saxon and Gaul, Canadians claim
A part in the glory and pride and aim
Of the Empire that girdles the world.
England, England, England,
Wherever the daring heart
By Arctic floe or torrid strand
Thy heroes play their part;
For as long as conquest holds the earth,
Or commerce sweeps the sea,
By orient jungle or western plain
Will the Saxon spirit be:
And whatever the people that dwell beneath,
Or whatever the alien tongue,
Over the freedom and peace of the world
Is the flag of England flung,
Till the last great freedom is found,
And the last great truth be taught,
Till the last great deed be done,
And the last great battle is fought;
Till the last great fighter is slain in the last great fight,
And the war-wolf is dead in his den–
England, breeder of hope and valour and might,
Iron mother of men.
Yea, England, England, England,
Till honour and valour are dead,
Till the world's great cannons rust,
Till the world's great hopes are dust,
Till faith and freedom be fled,
Till wisdom and justice have passed
To sleep with those who sleep in the many-chambered vast,
Till glory and knowledge are charnelled dust in dust,
To all that is best in the world's unrest,
In heart and mind you are wed.
While out from the Indian jungle
To the far Canadian snows,
Over the East and over the West,
Over the worst and over the best,
The flag of the world to its winds unfurled,
The blood-red ensign blows.
poem by William Wilfred Campbell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Old Ireland
FAR hence, amid an isle of wondrous beauty,
Crouching over a grave, an ancient, sorrowful mother,
Once a queen--now lean and tatter'd, seated on the ground,
Her old white hair drooping dishevel'd round her shoulders;
At her feet fallen an unused royal harp,
Long silent--she too long silent--mourning her shrouded hope and
heir;
Of all the earth her heart most full of sorrow, because most full of
love.
Yet a word, ancient mother;
You need crouch there no longer on the cold ground, with forehead
between your knees;
O you need not sit there, veil'd in your old white hair, so
dishevel'd; 10
For know you, the one you mourn is not in that grave;
It was an illusion--the heir, the son you love, was not really dead;
The Lord is not dead--he is risen again, young and strong, in another
country;
Even while you wept there by your fallen harp, by the grave,
What you wept for, was translated, pass'd from the grave,
The winds favor'd, and the sea sail'd it,
And now with rosy and new blood,
Moves to-day in a new country.
poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Sea Burthen
A ship swinging
As the tide swings, up and down,
And men's voices singing, -
East away O! West away!
And a very long way from London Town!
A lantern glowing
And stars looking down,
And the sea smells blowing, -
East away O! West away!
And a very long way from London Town!
Lights in wild weather
From a tavern window old and brown,
And men singing together, -
East away O! West away!
And a very long way from London Town!
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
O, water, voice of my heart...
O water, voice of my heart, crying in the sand,
All night long crying with a mournful cry,
As I lie and listen, and cannot understand
The voice of my heart in my side or the voice of the sea,
O water, crying for rest, is it I, is it I?
All night long the water is crying to me.
Unresting water, there shall never be rest
Till the last moon droop and the last tide fail,
And the fire of the end begin to burn in the west;
And the heart shall be weary and wonder and cry like the sea,
All life long crying without avail,
As the water all night long is crying to me.
poem by Arthur Symons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Three Kings [1]
The East is dead and the West is done, and again our course lies thus
South-east by Fate and the Rising Sun where the Three Kings wait for us.
When our hearts are young and the world is wide, and the heights seem grand to climb—
We are off and away to the Sydney-side; but the Three Kings bide their time.
‘I’ve been to the West,’ the digger said: he was bearded, bronzed and old;
Ah, the smothering curse of the East is wool, and the curse of the West is gold.
I went to the West in the golden boom, with Hope and a life-long mate,
‘They sleep in the sand by the Boulder Soak, and long may the Three Kings wait.’
‘I’ve had my fling on the Sydney-side,’ said a blacksheep to the sea,
Let the young fool learn when he can’t be taught: I’ve learnt what’s good for me.’
And he gazed ahead on the sea-line dim—grown dim in his softened eyes—
With a pain in his heart that was good for him—as he saw the Three Kings rise.
A pale girl sits on the foc’sle head—she is back, Three Kings! so soon;
But it seems to her like a life-time dead since she fled with him ‘saloon.’
There is refuge still in the old folks’ arms for the child that loved too well;
They will hide her shame on the Southern farm—and the Three Kings will not tell.
’Twas a restless heart on the tide of life, and a false star in the skies
That led me on to the deadly strife where the Southern London lies;
But I dream in peace of a home for me, by a glorious southern sound,
As the sunset fades from a moonlit sea, and the Three Kings show us round.
Our hearts are young and the old hearts old, and life, on the farms is slow,
And away in the world there is fame and gold—and the Three Kings watch us go.
Our heads seem wise and the world seems wide, and its heights are ours to climb,
So it’s off and away in our youthful pride—but the Three Kings bide our time.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The School At War
All night before the brink of death
In fitful sleep the army lay,
For through the dream that stilled their breath
Too gauntly glared the coming day.
But we, within whose blood there leaps
The fulness of a life as wide
As Avon's water where he sweeps
Seaward at last with Severn's tide,
We heard beyond the desert night
The murmur of the fields we knew,
And our swift souls with one delight
Like homing swallows Northward flew.
We played again the immortal games,
And grappled with the fierce old friends,
And cheered the dead undying names,
And sang the song that never ends;
Till, when the hard, familiar bell
Told that the summer night was late,
Where long ago we said farewell
We said farewell by the old gate.
'O Captains unforgot,' they cried,
'Come you again or come no more,
Across the world you keep the pride,
Across the world we mark the score.'
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The English Way
After the fight at Otterburn,
Before the ravens came,
The Witch-wife rode across the fern
And spoke Earl Percy's name.
'Stand up-stand up, Northumberland!
I bid you answer true,
If England's King has under his hand
A Captain as good as you?'
Then up and spake the dead Percy-
Oh, but his wound was sore!
'Five hundred Captains as good,' said he,
'And I trow five hundred more.
'But I pray you by the lifting skies,
And the young wind over the grass,
That you take your eyes from off my eyes,
And let my spirit pass.'
'Stand up-stand up, Northumberland!
I charge you answer true,
If ever you dealt in steel and brand,
How went the fray with you?'
'Hither and yon,' the Percy said;
'As every fight must go;
For some they fought and some they fled,
And some struck ne'er a blow.
'But I pray you by the breaking skies,
And the first call from the nest,
That you turn your eyes away from my eyes,
And let me to my rest.'
'Stand up-stand up, Northumberland!
I will that you answer true,
If you and your men were quick again,
How would it be with you?'
'Oh, we would speak of hawk and hound,
And the red deer where they rove,
And the merry foxes the country round,
And the maidens that we love.
'We would not speak of steel or steed,
Except to grudge the cost;
And he that had done the doughtiest deed
Would mock himself the most.
'But I pray you by my keep and tower,
And the tables in my hall,
And I pray you by my lady's bower
(Ah, bitterest of all!)
'That you lift your eyes from outen my eyes,
Your hand from off my breast,
And cover my face from the red sun-rise,
And loose me to my rest!'
She has taken her eyes from out of his eyes-
Her palm from off his breast,
And covered his face from the red sun-rise,
And loosed him to his rest.
'Sleep you, or wake, Northumberland-
You shall not speak again,
And the word you have said 'twixt quick and dead
I lay on Englishmen.
'So long as Severn runs to West
Or Humber to the East,
That they who bore themselves the best
Shall count themselves the least.
'While there is fighting at the ford,
Or flood along the Tweed,
That they shall choose the lesser word
To cloke the greater deed.
'After the quarry and the kill-
The fair fight and the fame-
With an ill face and an ill grace
Shall they rehearse the same.
'Greater the deed, greater the need
Lightly to laugh it away,
Shall be the mark of the English breed
Until the Judgment Day!'
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Homeless Man's Departure
After the Rebellion of 755, all was silent wasteland,
gardens and cottages turned to grass and thorns.
My village had over a hundred households,
but the chaotic world scattered them east and west.
No information about the survivors;
the dead are dust and mud.
I, a humble soldier, was defeated in battle.
I ran back home to look for old roads
and walked a long time through the empty lanes.
The sun was thin, the air tragic and dismal.
I met only foxes and raccoons,
their hair on end as they snarled in rage.
Who remains in my neighborhood?
One or two old widows.
A returning bird loves its old branches,
how could I give up this poor nest?
In spring I carry my hoe all alone,
yet still water the land at sunset.
The county governor's clerk heard I'd returned
and summoned me to practice the war-drum.
This military service won't take me from my state.
I look around and have no one to worry about.
It's just me alone and the journey is short,
but I will end up lost if I travel too far.
Since my village has been washed away,
near or far makes no difference.
I will forever feel pain for my long-sick mother.
I abandoned her in this valley five years ago.
She gave birth to me, yet I could not help her.
We cry sour sobs till our lives end.
In my life I have no family to say farewell to,
so how can I be called a human being?
As Through the Wild Green Hills of Wyre
As through the wild green hills of Wyre
The train ran, changing sky and shire,
And far behind, a fading crest,
Low in the forsaken west
Sank the high-reared head of Clee,
My hand lay empty on my knee.
Aching on my knee it lay:
That morning half a shire away
So many an honest fellow's fist
Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist.
Hand, said I, since now we part
From fields and men we know by heart,
For strangers' faces, strangers' lands,--
Hand, you have held true fellows' hands.
Be clean then; rot before you do
A thing they'll not believe of you.
You and I must keep from shame
In London streets the Shropshire name;
On banks of Thames they must not say
Severn breeds worse men than they;
And friends abroad must bear in mind
Friends at home they leave behind.
Oh, I shall be stiff and cold
When I forget you, hearts of gold;
The land where I shall mind you not
Is the land where all's forgot.
And if my foot returns no more
To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore,
Luck, my lads, be with you still
By falling stream and standing hill,
By chiming tower and whispering tree,
Men that made a man of me.
About your work in town and farm
Still you'll keep my head from harm,
Still you'll help me, hands that gave
A grasp to friend me to the grave.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Jesus Died For Me
JESUS DIED FOR ME
WRITER HANK WILLIAMS
When (C)everything goes wrong And it (F)seems all hope is (C)gone I remember how my Savior (G7)died He (C)died there on the cross So this (F)world would not be (C)lost Jesus died for (G7)me long a(C)go (CHORUS) Jesus died for me long ago On a hillside far a(G7)way He was (C)tortured and slain God (F)bless His Holy (C)name Jesus died for (G7)me long a(C)go What pain He suffered there The (F)Holy One so (C)dear So that you and I could (G7)live I'll (C)try to repay For His (F)sufferin' on that (C)day Jesus died for (G7)me long a(C)go CHORUS As He hung there all alone His (F)life's blood almost (C)gone He never stopped prayin' for (G7)me So I'll (C)follow all the way And (F)live with Him some(C)day Jesus died for (G7)me long a(C)go CHORUS Jesus Died For Me
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Warriors
The soul speaks from a warrior's spirit
Chants of war, execution of arts
In gruesome battle, one fears it
Death is when war starts
Agony cries god is pain
Brutality lords the field
Innocence killed hearts slain
Other hearts to ferocity yield
Strange calm, war mediation
Prayers to the brave
Tears in formation
Bodies march to the grave
Acts remembered, bodies burn
Ancient drum rolls
Human valor they earn
The valor of dead souls!
Archangels of war's path
Passion engulfs nature's law
The heart of war's wrath
The most dangerous organ man saw
Fight, fight, fight
Violence man's only right
Kill, kill, kill
The enemy and blood shall spill
Into earth's soil
Man's real home
Man's bloody ego
To live in loam
With souls dead long ago
Total war
What man's malice is for
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Come A Long Way
Swing low, could be the last call for two of us
I said swing high, reach out and touch the sky
But dont cry yet, its not time yet
See this race is wrong
Come see, this race is right
See millions of years pass with no end in sight
Sleep tight, you couldnt count the cost through the night
cause its not right, it never was right
Come a long, long
Come a long, long way
Come a long, long
Come a long, long way
Come a long, long
Come a long, long way
Come a long, long
Come a long, long way
Up on may day, and there is a carnival on my street tonight
I hear them dancing, I hear them dancing
But on a clear day
If this thing dont move here
Then this thing just dont have no heartbeat
Get on the street, I say
Sweet hours to live, I got no time to kill
I said hold back those arms raised hold back the bill
Sleep tight, you couldnt count the cost through the night
cause its not right, it never was right
Come a long, long
Come a long, long way
Come a long, long
Come a long, long way
Come a long, long
Come a long, long way
Come a long, long
Come a long, long way
Swing low, could be the last call for two of us
I said swing high, reach out and touch the sky
But dont cry yet, its not time yet
Come a long, long
Come a long, long way
Come a long, long
Come a long, long way
Come a long, long
Words and music : simple minds (c) emi music (publ) ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Watcher on the Tower
I
The Voice of a Man
WHAT of the Night, O Watcher?
The Voice of a Woman
Yea, what of it?
The Watcher
A star has risen; and a wind blows strong.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
But God is there above it.
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
II
Voice of the Man
What of the Night, O Watcher?
Voice of the Woman
Night of sorrow!
The Watcher
Out of the East there comes a sound, like song.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
Have courage! There’s To-morrow!
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
III
Voice of the Man
What of the Night, O Watcher?
Voice of the Woman
Is it other?
The Watcher
I see a gleam; a thorn of light; a thong.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
The Morning comes, my Brother.
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
IV
Voice of the Man
What now, what now, O Watcher?
The Watcher
Red as slaughter
The Darkness dies. The Light comes swift and strong.
Voice of the Man
The Night was long.—What sayest thou, my Daughter?
Voice of the Woman
The Night was dark; the Night was dark and long.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Westward on the High-Hilled Plains
Westward on the high-hilled plains
Where for me the world began,
Still, I think, in newer veins
Frets the changeless blood of man.
Now that other lads than I
Strip to bathe on Severn shore,
They, no help, for all they try,
Tread the mill I trod before.
There, when hueless is the west
And the darkness hushes wide,
Where the lad lies down to rest
Stands the troubled dream beside.
There, on thoughts that once were mine,
Day looks down the eastern steep,
And the youth at morning shine
Makes the vow he will not keep.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Worst Person
i am a worst person
worst person who wish to kill my enemy
i want to kill them until they ask for a pity
kill them until their tears is falling
until their blood flow like a river
i want to see them screaming
screaming to me with tears of blood
blood of their own
i want to revenge for justice
justice that im asking for so long
so long that I've been to silence
so long that I'm crying as i sleep
because before i have no strength to fight
but now i found my strength
i don't have to cry as i sleep
my face will be brighten again
if i will kill them
i can taste the sweetness of a revenge
i don't have a pity with them anymore
because i am a worst person
poem by Shirralyn Poquiz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Back To Front
Just come back where I came from,
Looks the same as somethings wrong.
And all my friends that used to be,
Have gone and turned their backs on me.
Everyones got different views,
Now Im all shook up and all confused.
East is west, left is right,
Up is down, and black is white,
Inside-out, wrong is right,
Its back to front and Im all uptight.
Ive just come back from fantasy,
Right back to reality.
Stayed away too long but now Ive found,
My world is turning upside-down.
I dont fit in but I dont stand out,
I should stay cool but want to shout.
East is west, left is right,
Up is down, and black is white,
Inside-out, wrong is right,
Its back to front and Im all uptight.
No one knows where I come from,
Who are you and what do you want?
Youve thrown away all that we had,
Its down the drain, its all gone mad.
The word is out, Ive seen the sign,
So you go your way, I go mine.
East is west, left is right,
Up is down, and black is white,
Inside-out, wrong is right,
Its back to front and Im all uptight.
East is west, left is right,
Up is down, and black is white,
Inside-out, wrong is right,
Its back to front and Im all uptight (alright).
Its back to front and Im all uptight (alright, alright, alright, alright).
Are you listening?
(no!)
Well then, Ill have to do it all over again!
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!