En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Knitting Socks

CLICK, click! how the needles go
Through the busy fingers, to and fro--
With no bright colors of berlin wool,
Delicate hands today are full:
Only a yarn of deep, dull blue,
Socks for the feet of the brave and true.
Yet click, click, how the needles go,
'Tis a power within that nerves them so.
In the sunny hours of the bright spring day,
And still in the night time far away.
Maiden, mother, grandame sit
Earnest and thoughtful while they knit.
Many the silent prayers they pray,
Many the tear drops brushed away.
While busy on the needles go,
Widen and narrow, heel and toe.
The grandame thinks with a thrill of pride
How her mother knit and spun beside
For that patriot band in olden days
Who died the Stars and Stripes to raise--
Now she in turn knits for the brave
Who'd die that glorious flag to save.
She is glad, she says, ''the boys' have gone,
'Tis just as their grandfathers would have done.
But she heaves a sigh and the tears will start,
For 'the boys' were the pride of grandame's heart.
The mother's look is calm and high,
God only hears her soul's deep cry--
In Freedom's name, at Freedom's call,
She gave her sons--in them her all.
The maiden's cheek wears a paler shade.
But the light in her eyes is undismayed.
Faith and hope give strength to her sight,
She sees a red dawn after the night.
Oh, soldiers brave, will it brighten the day,
And shorten the march on the weary way,
To know that at home the loving and true
Are knitting and hoping and praying for your
Soft are the voices when speaking your name,
Proud are their glories when hearing your fame.
And the gladdest hour in their lives will be
When they greet you after the victory.

poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Countenance

Click, click, click, click, click
That’s what I hear, so, stick
Or should I make a move now; quick
Before the others could make me sick

Ponderous thoughts, beating heart
I should have quit right at the start
The adrenalin pushes me to part
With something, nothing, far apart

From Brooklyn, London, Tokyo, Paris
Faceless names which mean to harass
Me now hanging on the crevice
Oh where is now the stupid novice?

Oh well the time is passing by
No longer do I need to cry
It’s just a game so ask me why
Do I bother to groan and sigh?

poem by John B Hayes
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My Vision

Wherever my feet may wander
Wherever I chance to be,
There comes, with the coming of even' time
A vision sweet to me.
I see my mother sitting
In the old familiar place,
And she rocks to the tune her needles sing,
And thinks of an absent face.

I can hear the roar of the city
AAbout me now as I write;
But over an hundred miles of snow
My thought-steeds fly tonight,
To the dear little cozy cottage,
And the room where mother sits,
And slowly rocks in her easy chair
And thinks of me as she knits.

Sometimes with the merry dancers
When my feet are keeping time,
And my heart beats high, as young hearts will,
To the music's rhythmic chime.
My spirit slips over the distance
Over the glitter and whirl,
To my mother who sits, and rocks, and knits,
And thinks of her "little girl."

And when I listen to voices that flatter,
And smile, as women do,
To whispered words that may be sweet,
But are not always true;
I think of the sweet, quaint picture
Afar in quiet ways,
And I know one smile of my mother's eyes
Is better than all their praise.

And I know I can never wander
Far from the path of right,
Though snares are set for a woman's feet
In places that seem most bright.
For the vision is with me always,
Wherever I chance to be,
Of mother sitting, rocking, and knitting,
Thinking and praying for me.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Telegraph Clerk

Sitting here by my desk all day,
Hearing the constant click
As the messages speed on their way,
And the call comes sharp and quick--
Oh, what a varied tale they tell
Of joy and hope and fear!
The funeral knell and the marriage bell
In their steady tick I hear.

'Mother is dying; come at once.'

And the tears will almost start,
For tender daughters and loving sons--
God pity each aching heart!
Ah! how the haunting memories press
Of the mother's unfailing tenderness,
That is now forever o'er.

'I am well; will come tonight.'

How bright some eyes will glow
All day long with a happy light
As they watch the moments go.

Have had no letters; is something wrong?'

Some heart is sad today,
Counting the hours that seem so long
For the sake of one away.

'Arthur Ross, by accident killed;
Tell his mother, am coming home.'

Alas for the home with such sorrow filled,
When the bitter tidings come!

'Alice is better; gaining fast.'

And hearts that have been bowed
Under their weight of fear, at last
Shall lose their weary load.

So over the wires the tidings speed,
Bitter and grave and gay;
Some hearts shall beat, and some shall bleed,
For the tale they have to say.
As I sit all day by my desk alone
I hear the steam go by,
And catch the wires' changeful tone
With a smile and then a sigh.

poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tippity Tap

Tap Tap, Click Click

On the train

Leeds To London

Click Click go the mice

Strange Tunes from phones

Is there no time

To kick back

To take time

To enjoy the ride

Worker drones drone on

Click Click

Ring Ring

Work appears to end

Beer & wine from the trolley

Relax time

Work time

Travel time is now

Other times

poem by Jason Palmer
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Up On The Housetop

(traditional - arranged by reba mcentire)
Up on the housetop reindeer pause
Out jumps good old santa claus
Down through the chimney with lots of toys
All for the little ones, christmas joys
Ho, ho ho! who wouldnt go? ho, ho ho! who wouldnt go?
Up on the housetop, click, click, click
Down through the chimney with old saint nick
First comes the stocking of little nell
Oh, dear santa fill it well
Give her a dolly that laughs and cries
One that will open and shut her eyes
Ho, ho, ho! who wouldnt go? ho, ho, ho! who wouldnt go?
Up on the housetop, click, click, click
Down through the chimney with old saint nick
Next comes the stocking of little will
Oh, just see what a glorious fill
Here is a hammer and lots of tacks
Also a ball and a whip that cracks
Ho, ho ho! who wouldnt go? ho, ho, ho! who wouldnt go?
Up on the housetop, click, click, click
Down through the chimney with old saint nick

song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Flag

See the glorious stars and stripes,
Floating over there;
See how gracefully they wave
In the summer air.
We love to see that starry flag,
Wave in peace with ease,
And its colors, red, white and blue,
Unfurled to the breeze.

God grant that flag may ever wave
O'er our native land,
Where sons of freemen are united
In a happy band,
To celebrate the glorious Fourth,
The day we should adore;
Hail each anniversary day,
Now and evermore.

Our fathers fought beneath that flag
In the days of yore,
To gain their freedom from British laws,
Which they could not endure.
The cry was then for liberty,
On land and on sea;
They gained the glorious victory --
Our country now is free.

The land of Columbia's sons,
To-day is filled with joy;
Every heart should beat as one,
In the blessings we enjoy.
We should love our native land,
Where our fathers died,
We should keep the country free --
The early pilgrim's pride.

See the glorious stars and stripes,
Waving over there,
See the starry emblem, friends,
Floating in the air.
Proud it waves o'er our land,
Where it has waved for years,
May every freeman greet that flag
With three rousing cheers.

poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hyperlink (Deep Down)

i want a click, a click to your heart
a hyperlink into you.
a sexual browser from here to the end
a newsgroup one on one
don't need a modem to connect to your mind
no search engine to find you
i want a click, a click to your heart
a hyperlink to go inside you.
deep down, deep down,
dari dara dada du dara.
deep down, deep down,
dari da da.
deep down, deep down,
dari dara dada du dara.
deep down, deep down,
dari da da.

song performed by by Eiffel 65
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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November in Ireland

November days in Ireland
The skies are dull and grey,
But Oh! The clear strong flame of love,
That burns by night and day.
As swift and bright the whispered prayers fly to the Heavens O'erhead,
From faithful hearts in Ireland, remembering their dead.

No primroses or cowslips now,
But cold November rain,
No hawthorns in the hedges,
Till Spring comes round again,
But roses bloom in chapels lone and cabins far apart
Dear rosaries of remembrance said to Mary's loving heart.

"For all the Holy Souls we pray,
God give them peace and light
For the brave boys that died for us,
We pray both day and night.
We can feel their presence near us-we can hear their voices call,
For the dead folk in Ireland are the 'livest' of us all"

November days in Ireland
Are just one round of prayer,
Of loving help, and sacrifice,
For those who claim our care.
And Oh! Look up with hope to Heaven: the starry, shining dome,
Is vibrant with the beating wings of glad souls going home.

poem by Alice Guerin Crist
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The clock is clicking

The clock is clicking
It is clicking to show just then
A time span of one second
Has become the past
The clock is clicking

Each click means a step
Towards your progress and growth
Optimistic wisdom says
The clock is clicking

Each click means a nail
Onto your coffin
Philosophical wisdom says
The clock is clicking

Each click means the arrival
Of a child in India
Population expert worries
The clock is clicking

Each click means the committal
Of a crime
Police personnel observes
The clock is clicking

Each click means a travel of 2.5 km
In space of the earth's surface
Astromer estimates
The clock is clicking

Each click means a change
In fortune of an individual
Astrologer announces
The clock is clicking

Each click means the admission
Of a heart patient
Health specialist heaves
The clock is clicking

Each click means the drain
Of my battery
The clock cries within
The clock is clicking

Let the clock be clicking
Let any one have his or her inkling
Let us be lively and kicking
Let nothing stop us becoming a king

The clock is clicking

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Brave Boys Are They!

Heavily falls the rain;
Wild are the breezes tonight;
But 'neath the roof, the hours as they fly,
Are happy and calm and bright.
Gathering round our fireside,
Tho' it be summer time,
We sit and talk of brothers abroad
Forgetting the midnight chime

Brave boys are they!
Gone at their country's call;
And yet, and yet we cannot forget
That many brave boys must fall.

Under the homestead roof
Nestled so cozy and warm,
While soldiers sleep, with little or naught
To shelter them from the storm.
Resting on grassy couches,
Pillow'd on hillocks damp;
Of martial fare, how little we know,
Till brothers are in the camp.

Thinking no less of them,
Loving our country the more,
We sent them forth to fight for the flag
Their fathers before them bore.
Though the great tear drops started,
This was our parting trust:
God bless you, boys! we'll welcome you home
When rebels are in the dust.

May the bright wings of love
Guard them wherever they roam;
The time has come when brothers must fight,
And sisters must pray at home.
Oh! The dread field of battle!
Soon to be strewn with graves!
If brothers fall, then bury them where
Our banner in triumph waves.

poem by Henry Clay Work
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Up On The Housetop

Album: Wrangler Cowboy Christmas
(B.R. Hanby)
Up on the housetop reindeer pause
Out jumps good old Santa Claus
Down thru the chimney with lots of toys
All for the little ones Christmas joys
Chorus
Ho, ho, ho!
Who wouldn't go!
Ho, ho, ho!
Who wouldn't go!
Up on the housetop
Click, click, click
Down thru the chimney with
Good Saint Nick
--- Instrumental ---
First comes the stocking of little Nell
Oh, dear Santa, fill it well
Give her a dolly that laughs and cries
One that will open and shut her eyes
Chorus
Ho, ho, ho!
Who wouldn't go!
Ho, ho, ho!
Who wouldn't go!
Up on the housetop
Click, click, click
Down thru the chimney with
Good Saint Nick
Up on the housetop
Click, click, click
Down thru the chimney with
Good Saint Nick...

song performed by by Gary Allan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Mother Is...

a mother is loving,
she stays up all night with
your sicknesses coughing and howling
patting you back, comforting
a mother is loving

a mother is caring
she holds you when your
heart feels like breaking
crying with you when you are aching
a mother is caring

a mother is interested
she asks about your days
and what boys did what and the flirting
“25 cents in the jar please? ! ”
a mother is interested

a mother wants what’s best
curfew broken, I’m so sorry you can’t
late for church family prayers, scripture study
have to get A’s be home before time
a mother knows what’s best

a mother is delicate
“Please don’t do that, come back
you know better choose the right
I love you! ”
a mother is delicate

a mother is you
we’ll get through this together
think of the memories only memories
I am here for you be happy he would want that
a mother is YOU!

poem by S.M. Riggin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song of the Sailor Boy

Cheer up, cheer up, my mother dear!
Ah! Why do you sit and weep?
Do you think that he who guards me here,
Forsakes me on the deep?
Let hope and faith light up your glance,
When you see our ship set sail;
Look, look at her now, and see her dance;
Oh! Why do you turn so pale?
There's an English flag, and an English crew;
So, mother, be proud of your boy in blue.

Ah! Wonder not that, next to thee,
I love the galloping wave;
'Tis the first of coursers, bold and free -
And fit to carry the brave.
It may bear me on to a dark lee-shore,
To sink with a gallant band;
But early or late - here's a heart for my fate,
Let it come on the sea or the land.
The storm and the battle shall find me true,
So, mother, be proud of your boy in blue.

And if the breakers kill our ship,
And your boy goes down in the foam,
Be sure the last breath on his lip
Was a prayer for those at home.
But come, cheer up! methinks I heard
A voice in the anchor chain,
That whispered, like a fairy bird,
'The Ship will come again.'
God bless thee, mother, adieu, adieu!
But never weep for your boy in blue.

poem by Eliza Cook
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Home Of The Brave

Heres to johnny with his jo
And mickeys got a wife
And heres to jerry
He has got his joyce
And me, Im shaking
In my boots tonight
For the daughters and the sons
Lost in the home of the brave
And heres to the home of the brave
And heres to the life thats not saved
Heres to the home of the brave
Heres to the home of the brave
Heres to frank hit in some bar
In picturesque brooklyn heights
And heres to a friend who jumped in front of a train
At seven oclock one night
And another friend who thinks he lacks worth
Has disappeared from sight
Somewhere in the home
Of the brave
And heres to the home of the brave
And heres to the life thats not saved
Heres to the home of the brave
Heres to the home of the brave
The stars are hiding in their clouds
The street lights are too bright
A mans kicking a woman
Whos clutching his leg tight
And I think suddenly of you
And blink my eyes in fright
And rush off to the home
Of the brave
And heres to the home of the brave
Heres to the home of the brave
And heres to the life that is saved
Heres to the home of the brave
And everyday you have to die some
Cry some and die some
And everyday you have to die some
Cry some and die
In the home of the brave
Home of the brave

song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Click, Click

Youthful, delicate, feminine, photogenic,
Her walk stops talk,
Lookers look on,

She catches my eye, points to herself,
her camera ready,
my hands willing, my fingers unsteady,

Her magnetic smile draws eyes
of passers-by,
A wolf-whistle, - Loud,
Laughter from the crowd,

Cameras lifted, click, click,
A reincarnation divine,
burst through eons of time,

Saphire eyes, raven hair,
confidence magnifed in electrified air,
Someone's shout: Elizabeth Taylor,

She puckers her lips,
a camera kiss,
Another wolf-whistle - Loud,
Laughter from the Crowd!

Click, Click.

poem by Elke Nigro
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Needles & Pins

I saw her today, I saw her face it was a face I love
And I knew I had to run away and get down on my knees and pray that they go away
Still it begins needles and pins
Because of all my pride the tears I gotta hide
Oh I thought I was smart I stole her heart
Didnt think I do but now I see
Shes worse to him than me let her go ahead
Take his love instead and one day she will see just how to save me
And get down on her knees thats how it begins
Shell feel those needles and pins - oh, no - oh, no
Why cant I stop and tell myself Im wrong, Im wrong, so wrong
Why cant I stand up and tell myself Im strong because I saw her today
I saw her face it was a face I love
And I knew I had to run away and get down on my knees and pray that they go away
Still it begins needles and pins
Because of all my pride the tears I gotta hide
Hey! needles and pins needles and pins needles and pins

song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Good Old Man

"Children, you will soon lay me in the ground. Then you are to be cheerful, and drink some of this wine; for I have lived a joyful life before God all my days." (Life of Ernst Maurice Arndt. London. 1879. P. 38.)

The old man sate beside the fire,
His years fourscore and two,
His locks were thin and wintry-white,
But his eyes were bright and blue.

His children's children round him stood,
His face with joy did shine;
And he called for a glass, and placed on board
A pint of the ruby wine.

And he said, "Now list to me, brave boys:
I've lived a life, thank God!
Full of bright hours and happy days,
And soon beneath the sod

"Your hands must lay my head. This glass
I fill with thanks to Him
Who made my cup through fourscore years
With joy to overbrim.

"There might be clouds; but they have passed;
For this I surely knew,
Behind the clouds there dwelt a sun
And a dome of glorious blue.

"There might be frets; but not with me
Might fret and murmur dwell;
For God, I knew, was judge of all,
And still he judgeth well.

"Then fill the sparkling glass, brave boys,
And quaff the wine with me
His gift whence flows to men all light
And love and liberty!

"And keep a stout heart in your breast,
And trust in God, brave boys;
And march right forward without fear,
And evermore rejoice.

"And when you lay my head, brave boys,
Beneath the cool green sod,
Remember how I walked in strength
And joy before my God."

poem by John Stuart Blackie from Littell's Living Age, vol. 144
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Needles & Pins

I saw her today, I saw her face
It was a face I loved and I knew
I had to run away
And get down on my knees and pray
That thered come a day
And still it begins, needles and pins
Because of all my pride
The tears Ive got to hide
Oh, I thought I was smart
Ill hold her heart
Didnt think Id do
But know I see
Shes worse to him than me
Let her go ahead, and take his love instead
And one day she will see
Just how to say please
And get down on her knees
Yeah thats how it begins
Needles and pins
I know, I know
Why cant I stop and tell myself Im wrong,
Im wrong, so wrong
Why cant I stand up
And tell myself Im strong?
Because I saw her today, I saw her face
It was a face I loved and I knew
I had to run away
And get down on my knees and pray
Let there come a day
And still it begins, needles and pins
Because of all my pride
The tears Ive got to hide
Oh, like needles and pins
Needles and pins
Needles and pins

song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Death-Day Of Korner

A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
The youth went down to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride.

He went, with his noble heart unworn,
And pure, and high;
An eagle stooping from clouds of morn,
Only to die!

He went with the lyre, whose lofty tone
Beneath his hand
Had thrill'd to the name of his God alone,
And his Father-land.

And with all his glorious feelings yet
In their first glow,
Like a southern stream that no frost hath met
To chain its flow.

A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
For him that went to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride.

He hath left a voice in his trumpet-lays
To turn the flight,
And a guiding spirit for after days,
Like a watch-fire's light.

And a grief in his father's soul to rest,
Midst all high thought;
And a memory unto his mother's breast,
With healing fraught.

And a name and fame above the blight
Of earthly breath,
Beautiful beautiful and bright,
In life and death!

A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
For him that went to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride!

poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Star Spangled Banner

Oh say can you see
by the dawns early light,
what so proudly we hailed
at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars,
through the perilous fight,
o'er the ram-parts we watched were so galantly streaming?
And the rockets red glare,
the bombs bursting in air,
gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
Still does that Star Spangled Banner yet wave
on the land of the free
and the home of the brave
the brave
the brave

song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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