En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Daylight is Dying

The daylight is dying
Away in the west,
The wild birds are flying
in silence to rest;
In leafage and frondage
Where shadows are deep,
They pass to its bondage--
The kingdom of sleep
And watched in their sleeping
By stars in the height,
They rest in your keeping,
O wonderful night.
When night doth her glories
Of starshine unfold,
'Tis then that the stories
Of bush-land are told.

Unnumbered I told them
In memories bright,
But who could unfold them,
Or read them aright?
Beyond all denials
The stars in their glories,
The breeze in the myalls,
Are part of these stories.

The waving of grasses,
The song of the river
That sings as it passes
For ever and ever,
The hobble-chains' rattle,
The calling of birds,
The lowing of cattle
Must blend with the words.

Without these, indeed you
Would find it ere long,
As though I should read you
The words of a song
That lamely would linger
When lacking the rune,
The voice of a singer,
The lilt of the tune.

But as one halk-bearing
An old-time refrain,
With memory clearing,
Recalls it again,
These tales roughly wrought of
The Bush and its ways,
May call back a thought of
The wandering days;
And, blending with each
In the memories that throng
There haply shall reach
You some echo of song.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Daylight is Dying

The daylight is dying
Away in the west,
The wild birds are flying
In silence to rest;
In leafage and frondage
Where shadows are deep,
They pass to its bondage—
The kingdom of sleep.
And watched in their sleeping
By stars in the height,
They rest in your keeping,
Oh, wonderful night.
When night doth her glories
Of starshine unfold,
’Tis then that the stories
Of bush-land are told.

Unnumbered I hold them
In memories bright,
But who could unfold them,
Or read them aright?
Beyond all denials
The stars in their glories
The breeze in the myalls
Are part of these stories.

The waving of grasses,
The song of the river
That sings as it passes
For ever and ever,
The hobble-chains’ rattle,
The calling of birds,
The lowing of cattle
Must blend with the words.

Without these, indeed, you
Would find it ere long,
As though I should read you
The words of a song
That lamely would linger
When lacking the rune,
The voice of the singer,
The lilt of the tune.

But, as one half-hearing
An old-time refrain,
With memory clearing,
Recalls it again,
These tales, roughly wrought of
The bush and its ways,
May call back a thought of
The wandering days,

And, blending with each
In the memories that throng,
There haply shall reach
You some echo of song.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sacred to the Memory of “Unknown”

Oh, the wild black swans fly westward still,
While the sun goes down in glory—
And away o’er lonely plain and hill
Still runs the same old story:
The sheoaks sigh it all day long—
It is safe in the Big Scrub’s keeping—
’Tis the butcher-birds’ and the bell-birds’ song
In the gum where ‘Unknown’ lies sleeping—
(It is heard in the chat of the soldier-birds
O’er the grave where ‘Unknown’ lies sleeping).
Ah! the Bushmen knew not his name or land,
Or the shame that had sent him here—
But the Bushmen knew by the dead man’s hand
That his past life lay not near.
The law of the land might have watched for him,
Or a sweetheart, wife, or mother;
But they bared their heads, and their eyes were dim,
For he might have been a brother!
(Ah! the death he died brought him near to them,
For he might have been a brother.)

Oh, the wild black swans to the westward fade,
And the sunset burns to ashes,
And three times bright on an eastern range
The light of a big star flashes,
Like a signal sent to a distant strand
Where a dead man’s love sits weeping.
And the night comes grand to the Great Lone Land
O’er the grave where ‘Unknown’ lies sleeping,
And the big white stars in their clusters blaze
O’er the Bush where ‘Unknown’ lies sleeping.

poem by Henry Lawson
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The River Sings

The river sings
A voice rises above
Fairer than the water, rings

I know you well
For the river has told
All there is to tell

It sung of a maiden
Fair as the water’s song
Her heart heavy laden

Though she sang
Her song was sorrowed
In voice the sadness rang

No words were needed
The river knew
Her voice it heeded

She walked alone
Her gaiety was lost
River, her only home

She listened to the water
Telling a story
Calling her River Daughter

The river sang, through day and night
Sang for her, the only listener
She joined the song, through dark and light

She called to her lover
Come free me!
Called with song and river

poem by Rachel Harris
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After Drafting

NIGHT has fallen, night and darkness,
Night with star and planet splendid;
And the earth lies like a giant
Wrapt in sleep, with limbs extended.
Rest has stolen on the homestead,
On the long day's rush and riot,
And no sound of horse or rider
Breaks the soft and dewy quiet.
Yet, like heart-cries
After battle,
Comes the calling, ceaseless calling,
Of the dun and dappled cattle.
Sleep is sweet, and sweet is silence,
When the long day's work is over,
For the toiler and the moiler,
And the rider and the rover.
Not a breeze abroad at night-time
Sets the barley-grass aquiver,
And from dewfall on to sunrise
Sleeps the curlew by the river.
Yet no slumber
Anguish smothers;
Hark the calling, plaintive calling,
Of the robbed and stricken mothers!
Oh, how still are plain and river —
How all-sweet, how all-amazing!
By the stars' march night is numbered —
Rising, setting, zenith-blazing.
Peace has come upon the homestead;
Passed the long day's rush and riot;
Only from the drafted cattle
Comes a note of sad disquiet:
Dun and dappled,
Horned and poley —
They are lowing, lowly lowing,
With a helpless melancholy.

poem by Roderic Quinn
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A Noon Song

There are songs for the morning and songs for the night,
For sunrise and sunset, the stars and the moon;
But who will give praise to the fulness of light,
And sing us a song of the glory of noon?
Oh, the high noon, the clear noon,
The noon with golden crest;
When the blue sky burns, and the great sun turns
With his face to the way of the west!

How swiftly he rose in the dawn of his strength;
How slowly he crept as the morning wore by;
Ah, steep was the climbing that led him at length
To the height of his throne in the wide summer sky.
Oh, the long toil, the slow toil,
The toil that may not rest,
Till the sun looks down from his journey's crown,
To the wonderful way of the west!

Then a quietness falls over meadow and hill,
The wings of the wind in the forest are furled,
The river runs softly, the birds are all still,
The workers are resting all over the world.
Oh, the good hour, the kind hour,
The hour that calms the breast!
Little inn half-way on the road of the day,
Where it follows the turn to the west!

There's a plentiful feast in the maple-tree shade,
The lilt of a song to an old-fashioned tune,
The talk of a friend, or the kiss of a maid,
To sweeten the cup that we drink to the noon.
Oh, the deep noon, the full noon,
Of all the day the best!
When the blue sky burns, and the great sun turns
To his home by the way of the west.

poem by Henry Van Dyke
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New Year's Chimes

What is the song the stars sing?
(And a million songs are as song of one)
This is the song the stars sing:
(Sweeter song's none)

One to set, and many to sing,
(And a million songs are as song of one)
One to stand, and many to cling,
The many things, and the one Thing,
The one that runs not, the many that run.

The ever new weaveth the ever old,
(And a million songs are as song of one)
Ever telling the never told;
The silver saith, and the said is gold,
And done ever the never done.

The chase that's chased is the Lord o' the chase,
(And a million songs are as song of one)
And the pursued cries on the race;
And the hounds in leash are the hounds that run.

Hidden stars by the shown stars' sheen:
(And a million suns are but as one)
Colours unseen by the colours seen,
And sounds unheard heard sounds between,
And a night is in the light of the sun.

An ambuscade of lights in night,
(And a million secrets are but as one)
And anight is dark in the sun's light,
And a world in the world man looks upon.

Hidden stars by the shown stars' wings,
(And a million cycles are but as one)
And a world with unapparent strings
Knits the stimulant world of things;
Behold, and vision thereof is none.

The world above in the world below,
(And a million worlds are but as one)
And the One in all; as the sun's strength so
Strives in all strength, glows in all glow
Of the earth that wits not, and man thereon.

Braced in its own fourfold embrace
(And a million strengths are as strength of one)
And round it all God's arms of grace,
The world, so as the Vision says,
Doth with great lightning-tramples run.

And thunder bruiteth into thunder,
(And a million sounds are as sound of one)
From stellate peak to peak is tossed a voice of wonder,
And the height stoops down to the depths thereunder,
And sun leans forth to his brother-sun.

And the more ample years unfold
(With a million songs as song of one)
A little new of the ever old,
A little told of the never told,
Added act of the never done.

Loud the descant, and low the theme,
(A million songs are as song of one)
And the dream of the world is dream in dream,
But the one Is is, or nought could seem;
And the song runs round to the song begun.

This is the song the stars sing,
(Tonèd all in time)
Tintinnabulous, tuned to ring
A multitudinous-single thing
(Rung all in rhyme).

poem by Francis Thompson
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Memories

Im thinkin bout my baby right now,
And Im feelin sentimental.
Shes all I got in my memory,
But it really isnt accidental.
All I have are these memories,
Memories keep haunting me.
All I have are these memories,
Memories keep haunting me.
I think about her though shes gone from me,
And I want to get her back sincerely.
I pray to heaven shes alright tonight,
cause you know I love her, lover her dearly.
But, ...
All I have is this lonely song,
Lonely song Im singin all night long.
All I have are these memories,
Memories keep haunting me.
Oooooo, oooooo, oooooo ...
Oooooo, oooooo, oooooo ...
Oooooo, oooooo, oooooo ...
Oh ...
Oooooo, oooooo, oooooo ...
All I have are these memories,
Memories keep haunting me.
All I have is this lonely song,
Lonely song Im singin all night long.
All I have are these memories,
Memories keep haunting me.
All I have is this lonely song,
Lonely song Im singin all night long.
(to fade ...)

song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song For All Day

A rollicking song for the morn, my boy,
A rollicking song for the morn:
It's up and out with a laugh and shout,
While the bright sun circles the world about,
And the dew is on the corn, my boy,
The dew is on the corn.
Barefoot, brown, with trousers torn,
It's up and out with the morn.

A jolly good song for the noon, my boy,
A jolly good song for the noon:
It's out and away where the wild woods sway,
And the wind and the birds have a holiday,
And whistle an oldtime tune, my boy,
And whistle an oldtime tune.
Healthy, happy, a heart of June,
It's out in the woods at noon.

A wonderful song for the eve, my boy,
A wonderful song for the eve:
The sunset's bars and a trail of stars,
And the falls of the creek a mine of spars,
Or a weft of crystal weave, my boy,
A weft of crystal weave.
Hungry, tired, with nothing to grieve,
It's home again at eve.

A lullaby song for the night, my boy,
A lullaby song for the night:
When crickets cry and owlets fly,
And the house-hound bays the moon on high,
And the window-lamp shines bright, my boy,
The window-lamp shines bright.
A drowsy kiss and a bed snow-white,
And a lullaby-song for the night.

poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Lay Down Your Weary Tune

Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
Struck by the sounds before the sun,
I knew the night had gone.
The morning breeze like a bugle blew
Against the drums of dawn.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
The ocean wild like an organ played,
The seaweeds wove its strands.
The crashin waves like cymbals clashed
Against the rocks and sands.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
I stood unwound beneath the skies
And clouds unbound by laws.
The cryin rain like a trumpet sang
And asked for no applause.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
The last of leaves fell from the trees
And clung to a new loves breast.
The branches bare like a banjo played
To the winds that listened best.
I gazed down in the rivers mirror
And watched its winding strum.
The water smooth ran like a hymn
And like a harp did hum.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Swan Song(dying sentence)

Remember me, remember my swan song,

I can't re-orient myself,
I can't live it all over again,
I can't re-orient myself,
I can't live that stain of my plastered smile again,

Let this be the last moment,
Let me say the last good-bye,
It won't count anything now,
So let me lay in silence,

Life has treated me well and I have had enough of it,
Lets end this game,
Enough of milling in and out,
Hear my swan song,

And let this end now,
I need to be away,
away from these thorns,
far far away,

Where you'll only see my memories,
my shadows,
my untold stories buried after me,
and my last swan song,

Hear my swan song,
I feel like a fish out of water,
from pillar to post,
fallen back upon,

Let me be buried under sand,
let me give my final test,
I'll never return, its time to sing,
sing my last swan song,

Hear my swan song,
maybe this moment or the other,
my soul would rest in peace,
before disappearing,
let me sing,
sing my swan song,

I only remember now the memory lived in me,
a perfectly encapsulated morsel,
of a good past,
from piebald brush strokes swaying,
to barren now, that I'd become,

As I'll say my last goodbye,
hear my swan song,
because now you'll never hear my voice again,
for ever and ever and ever...

Written on 5/6/11

poem by Ayesha Riaz
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Song of the Future

'Tis strange that in a land so strong
So strong and bold in mighty youth,
We have no poet's voice of truth
To sing for us a wondrous song.
Our chiefest singer yet has sung
In wild, sweet notes a passing strain,
All carelessly and sadly flung
To that dull world he thought so vain.

"I care for nothing, good nor bad,
My hopes are gone, my pleasures fled,
I am but sifting sand," he said:
What wonder Gordon's songs were sad!

And yet, not always sad and hard;
In cheerful mood and light of heart
He told the tale of Britomarte,
And wrote the Rhyme of Joyous Garde.

And some have said that Nature's face
To us is always sad; but these
Have never felt the smiling grace
Of waving grass and forest trees
On sunlit plains as wide as seas.

"A land where dull Despair is king
O'er scentless flowers and songless bird!"
But we have heard the bell-birds ring
Their silver bells at eventide,
Like fairies on the mountain side,
The sweetest note man ever heard.

The wild thrush lifts a note of mirth;
The bronzewing pigeons call and coo
Beside their nests the long day through;
The magpie warbles clear and strong
A joyous, glad, thanksgiving song,
For all God's mercies upon earth.

And many voices such as these
Are joyful sounds for those to tell,
Who know the Bush and love it well,
With all its hidden mysteries.

We cannot love the restless sea,
That rolls and tosses to and fro
Like some fierce creature in its glee;
For human weal or human woe
It has no touch of sympathy.

For us the bush is never sad:
Its myriad voices whisper low,
In tones the bushmen only know,
Its sympathy and welcome glad.
For us the roving breezes bring
From many a blossum-tufted tree --
Where wild bees murmur dreamily --
The honey-laden breath of Spring.

* * * *

We have our tales of other days,
Good tales the northern wanderers tell
When bushmen meet and camp-fires blaze,
And round the ring of dancing light
The great, dark bush with arms of night
Folds every hearer in its spell.

We have our songs -- not songs of strife
And hot blood spilt on sea and land;
But lilts that link achievement grand
To honest toil and valiant life.

Lift ye your faces to the sky
Ye barrier mountains in the west
Who lie so peacefully at rest
Enshrouded in a haze of blue;
'Tis hard to feel that years went by
Before the pioneers broke through
Your rocky heights and walls of stone,
And made your secrets all their own.

For years the fertile Western plains
Were hid behind your sullen walls,
Your cliffs and crags and waterfalls
All weatherworn with tropic rains.

Between the mountains and the sea
Like Israelites with staff in hand,
The people waited restlessly:
They looked towards the mountains old
And saw the sunsets come and go
With gorgeous golden afterglow,
That made the West a fairyland,
And marvelled what that West might be
Of which such wondrous tales were told.

For tales were told of inland seas
Like sullen oceans, salt and dead,
And sandy deserts, white and wan,
Where never trod the foot of man,
Nor bird went winging overhead,
Nor ever stirred a gracious breeze
To wake the silence with its breath --
A land of loneliness and death.

At length the hardy pioneers
By rock and crag found out the way,
And woke with voices of today
A silence kept for years and tears.

Upon the Western slope they stood
And saw -- a wide expanse of plain
As far as eye could stretch or see
Go rolling westward endlessly.
The native grasses, tall as grain,
Bowed, waved and rippled in the breeze;
From boughs of blossom-laden trees
The parrots answered back again.
They saw the land that it was good,
A land of fatness all untrod,
And gave their silent thanks to God.

The way is won! The way is won!
And straightway from the barren coast
There came a westward-marching host,
That aye and ever onward prest
With eager faces to the West,
Along the pathway of the sun.

The mountains saw them marching by:
They faced the all-consuming drought,
They would not rest in settled land:
But, taking each his life in hand,
Their faces ever westward bent
Beyond the farthest settlement,
Responding to the challenge cry
of "better country farther out".

And lo, a miracle! the land
But yesterday was all unknown,
The wild man's boomerang was thrown
Where now great busy cities stand.
It was not much, you say, that these
Should win their way where none withstood;
In sooth there was not much of blood --
No war was fought between the seas.

It was not much! but we who know
The strange capricious land they trod --
At times a stricken, parching sod,
At times with raging floods beset --
Through which they found their lonely way
Are quite content that you should say
It was not much, while we can feel
That nothing in the ages old,
In song or story written yet
On Grecian urn or Roman arch,
Though it should ring with clash of steel,
Could braver histories unfold
Than this bush story, yet untold --
The story of their westward march.

* * * *

But times are changed, and changes rung
From old to new -- the olden days,
The old bush life and all its ways,
Are passing from us all unsung.
The freedom, and the hopeful sense
Of toil that brought due recompense,
Of room for all, has passed away,
And lies forgotten with the dead.
Within our streets men cry for bread
In cities built but yesterday.
About us stretches wealth of land,
A boundless wealth of virgin soil
As yet unfruitful and untilled!
Our willing workmen, strong and skilled,
Within our cities idle stand,
And cry aloud for leave to toil.

The stunted children come and go
In squalid lanes and alleys black:
We follow but the beaten track
Of other nations, and we grow
In wealth for some -- for many, woe.

And it may be that we who live
In this new land apart, beyond
The hard old world grown fierce and fond
And bound by precedent and bond,
May read the riddle right, and give
New hope to those who dimly see
That all things yet shall be for good,
And teach the world at length to be
One vast united brotherhood.

* * * *

So may it be! and he who sings
In accents hopeful, clear, and strong,
The glories which that future brings
Shall sing, indeed, a wondrous song.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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And... The River Runs Through It

Those sweet memories still linger in my mind
The chain of mountains, The birds singing their song,
The outspread meadows...
And the river that runs through it!

I still see us walking along the river bank holding each other's hand.
And as we lie down on the grass, Interlocked in arms, looking at the sky,
The rock sings for us, a melodious song,
As the river runs through it!

I still go there
Sometimes in dreams and sometimes in real.
The birds are still singing and the rock still sings.
Everything is unchanged except the fact that
You are nowhere to be seen.
You have crossed over to the other side of the river,
The outstretched field of heaven!
And as I sit on the grass, sorrow grips my mind
And... The river runs through it!

poem by Arti Honrao
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History?

Has history taught us nothing
but tales and ancient lies?
All wrapped up in stories
not told us by the wise?
Told by the vicars who consecrated death
Told by the rulers
with power in their breath.
Passed on in written words
in books the masses read,
never questioned, never disputed
in the minds they lead.

Slanted stories still present
right to our present day.
Foes of peace seen as heroes
in ungodly ways
and as we live the history writers
will pen each blazing act
as benificent for these difficult times,
more fiction than true fact.
So those who follow in our steps
will read our history book
and what they read will be fantasy
with a different look.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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My Success Stories

Another day passed on the way.... Another day lost,
Loosing not only hope loosing each second which having huge cost....
Trying to fix life, each part of it,
Trying to earning, trying to full fill each need....
Earning not only a single rupee also few memories,
Memories which having success also having future stories.....
Trying hard to survive in this filed.... Field of success field of failure.
Where every one want success, failure attached with a word never....
Though failure is the way to reach the top,
You have to beat it each time till last, never say I want to stop....
Knowing this doing my part, trying each day to earning respect earning some glories,
May be some day comes when all will read my journey, my success stories....

poem by Argha Paul
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Never Again Would Bird's Song Be the Same

He would declare and could himself believe
That the birds there in all the garden round
From having heard the daylong voice of Eve
Had added to their own an oversound,
Her tone of meaning but without the words.
Admittedly an eloquence so soft
Could only have had an influence on birds
When call or laughter carried it aloft.
Be that as may be, she was in their song.
Moreover her voice upon their voices crossed
Had now persisted in the woods so long
That probably it never would be lost.
Never again would birds' song be the same.
And to do that to birds was why she came.

poem by Robert Frost
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In Early Spring

O Spring, I know thee! Seek for sweet surprise
In the young children's eyes.
But I have learnt the years, and know the yet
Leaf-folded violet.
Mine ear, awake to silence, can foretell
The cuckoo's fitful bell.
I wander in a gray time that encloses
June and the wild hedge-roses.
A year's procession of the flowers doth pass
My feet, along the grass.
And all you sweet birds silent yet, I know
The notes that stir you so,
Your songs yet half devised in the dim dear
Beginnings of the year.
In these young days you meditate your part;
I have it all by heart.
I know the secrets of the seeds of flowers
Hidden and warm with showers,
And how, in kindling Spring, the cuckoo shall
Alter his interval.
But not a flower or song I ponder is
My own, but memory's.
I shall be silent in those days desired
Before a world inspired.
O dear brown birds, compose your old song-phrases,
Earth, thy familiar daisies.

The poet mused upon the dusky height,
Between two stars towards night,
His purpose in his heart. I watched, a space,
The meaning of his face:
There was the secret, fled from earth and skies,
Hid in his gray young eyes.
My heart and all the Summer wait his choice,
And wonder for his voice.
Who shall foretell his songs, and who aspire
But to divine his lyre?
Sweet earth, we know thy dimmest mysteries,
But he is lord of his.

poem by Alice Meynell
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The Remembering: High The Memory

As the silence of seasons on
We relive abridge sails afloat
As to call light the soul shall sing
Of the velvet sailors course on
Of the velvet sailors course on
Shine or moons send me memories trail
Oer days of forgotten tales
Course the compass to offer
Into a time that we've all seen on
Into a time that we've all seen on
High the memory carry on
While the moments start to linger
Sail away among your dreams
The strength regains us in between our time
The strength regains us in between our time
As we shall speak to differ also
The ends meet the river's son
So the ends meet the river's son
Ours the story shall we carry on
And search the forest of the sun
We dream as we dream, dream as one
And I do think very well that the son might take you silently
They move fast, they tell me
There's someone, rainbow
Alternate tune
In the days of summer so long
We danced as evening sang their song
We wander out the day so long
And I do feel very well that the evenings take you silently
They move round, sunlight
Seeing ground
Whispers of clay, alternate ways
Softer messages bringing light
To a truth long forgotten on
As we shall speak to differ also
The ends meet the river's son
So the ends meet the river's son
I reach over and the fruit of life stands still
Stand awhile we search our past anew
The music sings of love you knew
We walk around the story
Out in the city running free
Sands of companions sides that be
The strength of the meeting lies with you
Wait all the more regard your past
Schoolgates remind us of our class
Chase all confusion away with us
Stand on hills of long forgotten yesterdays
Pass amongst your memories told returnig ways
As certain as we walk today
We walk around the story
Out in the city running free
Days pass as seconds turn the key
The strength of the moment lies with you
Don the cap and close your eyes
Imagine all the glorious challenge
Iron metal cast to others
Distant drums
Force the bit betwenn the mouth of freedom
Didn't we learn to fly
Remember to sail the skies
Distant suns
Will we reach
Winds allow
Other skylines
Other skylines to hold you
Relayer, all the dying cried before you
Relayer, we've rejoiced in all their meaning
Relayer, we advance, we retrace our stories
Like a dreamer all our lives
Are only lost begotten changes
We relive in seagull's pages
Outward ways
Things are all in colours
And the size of others shall send you forward
Arranged to sail you toward
A peace of mind
Will we reach
Winds allow
Other skylines
Other skylines to hold you
Relayer, all the passion spent on one cross
Relayer, sail the futile wars they suffer
Relayer, we advance, we retrace our story
Fail safe now
Stand on hills of long forgotten yesterdays
Pass amongst your memories told returning ways
As certain as we walk today
Press over moments leaving you
Out in the city runnig free
Days pass as seconds turn the key
The strength of the moment lies with you
Out tender outward lights of you
Shine over mountains make the view
The strength of you seeing lies with you
Ours entrance we surely carry on
And change the passing as the sun
We don't even need to try, we are one
And I do think very well as the truth unfolds you silently
They move time, rainbows
Sunlight
Alternate tune, alternate tune
Rainbows, soft light
Alternate view
Sunlight tell me
Someone
Alternate view
Alternate view
Surely, surely

song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Remembering: High The Memory

As the silence of seasons on
We relive abridge sails afloat
As to call light the soul shall sing
Of the velvet sailors course on
Of the velvet sailors course on
Shine or moons send me memories trail
Oer days of forgotten tales
Course the compass to offer
Into a time that we've all seen on
Into a time that we've all seen on
High the memory carry on
While the moments start to linger
Sail away among your dreams
The strength regains us in between our time
The strength regains us in between our time
As we shall speak to differ also
The ends meet the river's son
So the ends meet the river's son
Ours the story shall we carry on
And search the forest of the sun
We dream as we dream, dream as one
And I do think very well that the son might take you silently
They move fast, they tell me
There's someone, rainbow
Alternate tune
In the days of summer so long
We danced as evening sang their song
We wander out the day so long
And I do feel very well that the evenings take you silently
They move round, sunlight
Seeing ground
Whispers of clay, alternate ways
Softer messages bringing light
To a truth long forgotten on
As we shall speak to differ also
The ends meet the river's son
So the ends meet the river's son
I reach over and the fruit of life stands still
Stand awhile we search our past anew
The music sings of love you knew
We walk around the story
Out in the city running free
Sands of companions sides that be
The strength of the meeting lies with you
Wait all the more regard your past
Schoolgates remind us of our class
Chase all confusion away with us
Stand on hills of long forgotten yesterdays
Pass amongst your memories told returnig ways
As certain as we walk today
We walk around the story
Out in the city running free
Days pass as seconds turn the key
The strength of the moment lies with you
Don the cap and close your eyes
Imagine all the glorious challenge
Iron metal cast to others
Distant drums
Force the bit betwenn the mouth of freedom
Didn't we learn to fly
Remember to sail the skies
Distant suns
Will we reach
Winds allow
Other skylines
Other skylines to hold you
Relayer, all the dying cried before you
Relayer, we've rejoiced in all their meaning
Relayer, we advance, we retrace our stories
Like a dreamer all our lives
Are only lost begotten changes
We relive in seagull's pages
Outward ways
Things are all in colours
And the size of others shall send you forward
Arranged to sail you toward
A peace of mind
Will we reach
Winds allow
Other skylines
Other skylines to hold you
Relayer, all the passion spent on one cross
Relayer, sail the futile wars they suffer
Relayer, we advance, we retrace our story
Fail safe now
Stand on hills of long forgotten yesterdays
Pass amongst your memories told returning ways
As certain as we walk today
Press over moments leaving you
Out in the city runnig free
Days pass as seconds turn the key
The strength of the moment lies with you
Out tender outward lights of you
Shine over mountains make the view
The strength of you seeing lies with you
Ours entrance we surely carry on
And change the passing as the sun
We don't even need to try, we are one
And I do think very well as the truth unfolds you silently
They move time, rainbows
Sunlight
Alternate tune, alternate tune
Rainbows, soft light
Alternate view
Sunlight tell me
Someone
Alternate view
Alternate view
Surely, surely

song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night Thought

The world around is sleeping,
The stars are bright o'erhead,
The shades of myalls weeping
Upon the sward are spread;
Among the gloomy pinetops
The fitful breezes blow,
And their murmurs seem the music
Of a song of long ago;
Soft, passionate, and wailing
Is the tender old refrain -
With a yearning unavailing -
"Will he no come back again?"

The camp-fire sparks are flying
Up from the pine-log's glow,
The wandering wind is sighing
That ballad sweet and low;
The drooping branches gleaming
In the firelight, sway and stir;
And the bushman's brain is dreaming
Of the song she sang, and her.
And the murmurs of the forest
Ring home to heart and brain,
As in the pine is chorused
"Wi11 he no come back again?"

poem by Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Still Remember

So youve gone
Singing some old love song
Ive nothing more to lose
Im surrounded
By old stories
With nowhere to hide
I could tear
All your pictures
I could tear everything
You told me
Time makes it easy but you
Never told me time stands still
I cant believe it
I cant believe how it hurts
I cant believe it
I cant believe how love burns away
I remember
I cant sleep
All your words
Seem to let me down
Where are you
Why dont you call
Its been a long long time
I still remember
I still remember it all
I still remember
I still remember how love burned away
This could be
My last song
Everything must end some day

song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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