The Saddest Fate
To touch a broken lute,
To strike a jangled string,
To strive with tones forever mute
The dear old tunes to sing--
What sadder fate could any heart befall?
Alas! dear child, never to sing at all.
To sigh for pleasures flown,
To weep for withered flowers,
To count the blessings we have known,
Lost with the vanished hours--
What sadder fate could any heart befall?
Alas! dear child, ne'er to have known them at all.
To dream of love and rest,
To know the dream has past,
To bear within an aching breast
Only a void at last--
What sadder fate could any heart befall?
Alas! dear child, ne'er to have loved at all.
To trust an unknown good,
To hope, but all in vain,
Over a far-off bliss to brood,
Only to find it pain--
What sadder fate could any soul befall?
Alas! dear child, never to hope at all.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Related quotes
Ni-Chan’s Dirge For Yen-Oey
SO soon asleep! Now must the coming years
Weep ignorantly their loss they cannot know,
And life miss ever what has never been
We weep to-day, let theirs be sadder tears
Who have not seen thee near as we have seen,
Who shall but learn a hope died long ago.
Alas for flowers untimely winds have broken,
That should have scattered seed of following flowers!
Alas for ruin of unbuilded towers!
Alas for ripening words that die unspoken!
But let them weep with sadder tears than ours
Who shall but learn a hope died long ago,
A world's hope long ago.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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God Gave To Me A Child In Part
GOD gave to me a child in part,
Yet wholly gave the father's heart:
Child of my soul, O whither now,
Unborn, unmothered, goest thou?
You came, you went, and no man wist;
Hapless, my child, no breast you kist;
On no dear knees, a privileged babbler, clomb,
Nor knew the kindly feel of home.
My voice may reach you, O my dear-
A father's voice perhaps the child may hear;
And, pitying, you may turn your view
On that poor father whom you never knew.
Alas! alone he sits, who then,
Immortal among mortal men,
Sat hand in hand with love, and all day through
With your dear mother wondered over you.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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To the Memory of
I once could hope—alas! no more
Her bright wings wave for me;
The sunlit hours of life are o'er,
I weep, dear love, for thee!
And in those tears—and in that sigh
Will fond remembrance dwell;
'Tis all remains when dear ones lie
Within death's darksome cell.
So young! so pure!—alas! that thou
In marble tomb should sleep!
And leave the weary heart and brow
Thy vigils lone to keep.
And yet 'tis better thus than feel
The crushed heart's mad despair;
Alas! no balm those woes may heal
Love—death—have planted there.
Farewell! farewell! my buried love,
No pangs may wring thy heart;
Enough for me to gaze above,
To meet where none may part!
poem by Edward Henry Bickersteth
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Sadder Still
sadder still, sadder still, sadder still
you watch it die
betrayal of the heart
is the hardest part of letting go
now you see the truth of me
so what's the point? it's so cold
time will take your soul
time will take your dream
time will take your life away
away
fading lights
shattered dreams
of lost love
i remember the past
betrayal of the heart
is the hardest thing to let go
so now i don't dream
no, i don't feel
anything at all, anymore
time will take your soul
song performed by by Velvet Acid Christ
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Common Lot
It is a common fate – a woman’s lot –
To waste on one the riches of her soul,
Who takes the wealth she gives him, but cannot
Repay the interest, and much less the whole.
As I look up into your eyes, and wait
For some response to my fond gaze and touch,
It seems to me there is no sadder fate
Than to be doomed to loving overmuch.
Are you not kind? Ah, yes, so very kind –
So thoughtful of my comfort, and so true.
Yes, yes, dear heart; but I, not being blind,
Know that I am not loved, as I love you.
One tenderer word, a little longer kiss,
Will fill my soul with music and with song;
And if you seem abstracted, or I miss
The heart-tone from your voice, my world goes wrong.
And oftentimes you think me childish – weak –
When at some thoughtless word the tears will start;
You cannot understand how aught you speak
Has power to stir the deapths of my poor heart.
I cannot help it, dear – I wish I could,
Or feign indifference where I now adore;
For if I seemed to love you less, you would,
Manlike, I have no doubt, love me the more.
‘Tis a sad gift, that much applauded thing,
A constant heart; for fact doth daily prove
That constancy finds oft a cruel sting,
While fickle natures win the deeper love.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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KISS ME DEAR part 2! ! !
KISS ME DEAR, KISS ME WITH YOUR LOVE FATE*
KISS ME DEAR, KISS ME WITH YOUR FAVOURITE FATE*
KISS ME DEAR, KISS ME WITH YOUR HEART FATE*
KISS ME DEAR, KISS ME WITH OUR LOVE FATE*
I'KISS YOU DEAR, I'KISS YOU BECAUSE I'LOVE YOU*
I'KISS YOU DEAR, I'KISS YOU BECAUSE I'WANTED YOU*
I'KISS YOU DEAR, I'KISS YOU BECAUSE YOU THE LIFE IN MY LIFE*
I'KISS YOU DEAR, I'KISS YOU BECAUSE YOU MY HEARTBEAT*
KISS BY ME, YOU KISSED ME IN ONE LOVE*
KISS BY ME, YOU KISSED ME IN ONE LOYALTY*
KISS BY ME, YOU KISSED ME IN ONE YEARNING*
KISS BY ME, YOU KISSED ME IN ONE WARMTH*
KISS ME DEAR, KISS ME WITH EXPRESSION*
KISS ME DEAR, KISS ME WITH PERFECTION*
KISS ME DEAR, KISS ME WITH ADMIRE*
KISS ME DEAR, KISS ME WITH AFFECTION*
KISS ME DEAR, KISS ME WITH YOUR AIM*
YOUR KISS WAS THE AFFECTION EXPRESSION AND NEVER WAS FINISHED FOR ONLY ONE KISS*
Song: XI
Mother, mother, do you not hear?
Mother, they come; there is news to tell!
– Give me your hands, my daughter dear:
'Tis but a ship that saileth well.
Mother dear, have a care, give heed!
–They go, my daughter, away they speed.
Mother, the danger is sore, alas!
– Child, my child, it will quickly pass.
Mother, mother, She draweth near!
– It is down in the harbour, daughter dear.
Mother, mother, She opens the door!
– Child, they go, to return no more.
Mother, She enters! I am afraid!
– Child, they now have the anchor weighed.
Mother, I hear Her speaking low.
– Child, my child, it is they that go.
Mother, She makes the stars go dark!
– Child, 'tis the sails of a shadowy bark.
Mother, She knocks at the casement still!
– Child, maybe it is fastened ill. . . .
Mother, mother, my sight grows dim. . . .
– Child, they sail for the open sea.
On every hand I can hear but Him. . . .
– O child, what is it, and who is He?
poem by Maurice Polydore-Marie-Bernard Maeterlinck
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Ballad III
Now in good sooth my joy is vanished clean,
And all my gladness changed to grievous ire :
What profits it, dear flower ! since I have seen
Thy going hence, that I could never tire
When thou wast here
To greet thee every day in every year ?
Delight that was is grown disaster fell :
Alas ! How can I bid thee now farewell !
My love, my choice, my lady and my queen,
For whom my heart is kindled in desire,
What shall I do when love from what hath been
Taketh the gold and leaveth me the mire ?
Nor far nor near
Is comfort found, nor any pleasant cheer.
Gone is thy beauty, that did all excel :
Alas ! How can I bid thee now farewell !
Thine is the deed, O evil tongue and keen !
Forged for my fate upon an anvil dire :
Fortune, that loveth not my hand, I ween,
Nor yet my pen, did in the task conspire.
No help is clear
Save Death, when God shall grant him to appear
Else thou alone could'st win me out of hell.
Alas ! How can I bid thee now farewell !
Ah, simple and dear !
At least behold me and my mourning drear.
Thy loss is torment more than I can tell.
Alas ! How can I bid thee now farewell !
poem by Christine de Pizan
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Light Love
'Oh, sad thy lot before I came,
But sadder when I go;
My presence but a flash of flame,
A transitory glow
Between two barren wastes like snow.
What wilt thou do when I am gone,
Where wilt thou rest, my dear?
For cold thy bed to rest upon,
And cold the falling year
Whose withered leaves are lost and sere.'
She hushed the baby at her breast,
She rocked it on her knee:
'And I will rest my lonely rest,
Warmed with the thought of thee,
Rest lulled to rest by memory.'
She hushed the baby with her kiss,
She hushed it with her breast:
'Is death so sadder much than this—
Sure death that builds a nest
For those who elsewhere cannot rest?'
'Oh, sad thy note, my mateless dove,
With tender nestling cold;
But hast thou ne'er another love
Left from the days of old,
To build thy nest of silk and gold,
To warm thy paleness to a blush
When I am far away—
To warm thy coldness to a flush,
And turn thee back to May,
And turn thy twilight back to day?'
She did not answer him again,
But leaned her face aside,
Weary with the pang of shame and pain,
And sore with wounded pride:
He knew his very soul had lied.
She strained his baby in her arms,
His baby to her heart:
'Even let it go, the love that harms:
We twain will never part;
Mine own, his own, how dear thou art.'
'Now never teaze me, tender-eyed,
Sigh-voiced,' he said in scorn:
'For nigh at hand there blooms a bride,
My bride before the morn;
Ripe-blooming she, as thou forlorn.
Ripe-blooming she, my rose, my peach;
She woos me day and night:
I watch her tremble in my reach;
She reddens, my delight,
She ripens, reddens in my sight.'
'And is she like a sunlit rose?
Am I like withered leaves?
Haste where thy spiced garden blows:
But in bare Autumn eves
Wilt thou have store of harvest sheaves?
Thou leavest love, true love behind,
To seek a love as true;
Go, seek in haste: but wilt thou find?
Change new again for new;
Pluck up, enjoy—yea, trample too.
'Alas for her, poor faded rose,
Alas for her her, like me,
Cast down and trampled in the snows.'
'Like thee? nay, not like thee:
She leans, but from a guarded tree.
Farewell, and dream as long ago,
Before we ever met:
Farewell; my swift-paced horse seems slow.'
She raised her eyes, not wet
But hard, to Heaven: 'Does God forget?'
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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My Dear Child
Come hither my dear child
It's late - The E'en has fallen
Hark now my dear child
Hie to bed - Thou should'st
Thee forgot thy keys again my dear child
Wait for thou - I must
Methinks that it's getting late my dear child
Perchance - Something has happened to her
Wherefore have thou forgotten thy keys my dear child
I sit here heavy - Awaiting your anon arrival
Wherefore have thou left aroint from me my dear child
I lie here and pray - That thee arrives safely
Doth thou not realise of your keys my dear child
Why art thou - Do this oft to me and leave me heavy
Hark she has arrived my dear child
Mark me - Thou would'st not do this again
Hark now my dear child
Hie to your bed - Aroint in your dreams
poem by Gabriel Gauci Maistre
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Songs Set To Music: 20. Set By Mr. De Fesch
Since by ill fate I'm forced away,
And snatch'd so soon from those dear arms,
Against my will I must obey,
And leave those sweet endearing charms.
Yet still love on, and never fear
But you and constancy will prove
Enough my present flame to bear,
And make me, though in absence, love.
For though your presence Fate denies,
I feel, alas! the killing smart,
And can with undiscerned eyes
Behold your picture in my heart.
poem by Matthew Prior
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Alas my Rose
Alas my rose
Stole my youth years
I love the hands were
Happened to me does not smell roses
Alas Alas rose my rose
I do not know my carpet what happens when
I've been nomadic cranes
I had ants on the road
I remember one dear
Alas Alas rose rose
Did not hurt me cruel...
Weird strange world
I got called in Konya
Shabby wrote my tag
Oh, my dear rose rose
Was not keep my hands, slice..
İnce waist, did not hold
friend not formed into the hands of
I do not get Muradiye
Rose Alas, alas rose
My arm was broken wings..
sabit ince Kayseri 05/10/2012
poem by Sabit Ince
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Alas, So Long!
AH! dear one, we were young so long,
It seemed that youth would never go,
For skies and trees were ever in song
And water in singing flow
In the days we never again shall know.
Alas, so long!
Ah! then was it all Spring weather?
Nay, but we were young and together.
Ah! dear one, I've been old so long,
It seems that age is loth to part,
Though days and years have never a song,
And oh! have they still the art
That warmed the pulses of heart to heart?
Alas, so long!
Ah! then was it all Spring weather?
Nay, but we were young and together.
Ah! dear one, you've been dead so long,—
How long until we meet again,
Where hours may never lose their song
Nor flowers forget the rain
In glad noonlight that never shall wane?
Alas, so long!
Ah! shall it be then Spring weather,
And ah! shall we be young together?
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Burnt Hands
Back off! my dearest
for the sparkling jewel that you see
are glittering coal
that could burn your delicate hands
I beg off you, my love
stay away
for your innocence is misleading you
WHY? ? ?
asked innocence
and the questioned remained unanswered
she inquired again; no reply
equipped with faith, she stepped forward
to rescue the misplaced gem; among the burning coal
she advanced with glaring eyes-and hope
patted her shoulder-go on dear
Screamed innocence, as she touched
the gem was equally hot
as hot as any coal
Screamed innocence- I burnt my hands
I burnt my hands, dear faith
it really hurts, she turned to hope
at this ruthless sight
faith was speechless
and hope stood back, ashamed
is this my fate? she questioned
as she glanced at her blistered hands
is this my fate? ? ? ? ? -innocence wept like a child
silence there was
and then a whisper
it will soon heal, my dear
she looked up; with tear shedding eyes
she rushed to embrace hope
faith smiled to himself
O! dear dear innocent innocence
how I wish you to know
you burnt your hands but rescued gem
your fate?
is that you should not know……
for there are infinite gem
to be rescued; by you
yet, you will never know
you will never know
my dear burnt handed innocence
you will never know.
Dear children
Dear children
O dear children,
Imagination and dream of Jen
You are all so dear
Gems of an eyes and words to ears
"Divine gift "as we all say
For your birth we always pray
Go to churches and mosques for blessings
For divine descent in early morning
You are messengers and real hope
Without your presence life is on rope
The home becomes real one
Only when you cry with child's tone
No house can be called heaven
If that has not a single child even
If you want to hear His voice at home
Adopt one child if you don't have to welcome
They need care and proper attention
They are garden flowers and deserve our mention
They are our future hope and destiny
Of course a blessings bestowed by almighty
Especially girl child deserves to be cared more
As they are the one to be praised and adored
The universe expands at their cost and excel
We are here to take their care and speak well
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Fire of Stone
limit my day of stay; I am not a stone but
a fire that close and kindle the cooled Heart
in your beautiful dream; the road comes to
dark without the light, dear someone …
long did I wish for your presence, as far
as the distance of the ocean, I travel up and
high in the blue sky I fly, just to be with
your side, dear heart …
lend me your moment, and guide my
ways to reach you, wherever pain I rejoice
for nothing will soften my heart, than to
love you deep in my soul, my dear hope my
hope …
I come to float far beyond the wrapped
in your vintage arm, and follows the breath
with you dear goodbye; that day will be the
forever you, my dear love …
flow my spark, for I will be in your fire …..
poem by Antonio Liao
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Dear child
dear
u are...
not a dog...
dog is sin word
o..
dear you are
not a dog...
you are my lovely
lover...
thank ful human...
o...
dear u are not
a...
dog...
my heart...
my heart beat
also some time
dog...
not...you are
not dog...
dear and dear
loveable child...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Aiedail's Lullabye
Aiedail's Lullabye
Hush child of Aiedail
Sooth your aching soul
Hush dear child of Aiedail
For soon your world unfolds
Morphing from reality to dream
In a mere few minutes
So hush hush dear child
Dream of Aiedail
Sleep sleep sweet child
Let Aiedail sooth your fears
Though the moon sets
And Aiedail rises
Sleep on child sleep on
Rest in your world
Of sweetness and inncence
Happiness and truth
So hush dear child of Aiedail
Let the lullabye rock you to sleep
-Janelle Morehart-
(heh, give me guesses on what you think Aiedail is)
poem by Janelle Morehart
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Not A Child
'Not a child: I call myself a boy,'
Says my king, with accent stern yet mild,
Now nine years have brought him change of joy;
'Not a child.'
How could reason be so far beguiled,
Err so far from sense's safe employ,
Stray so wide of truth, or run so wild?
Seeing his face bent over book or toy,
Child I called him, smiling: but he smiled
Back, as one too high for vain annoy -
Not a child.
II.
Not a child? alack the year!
What should ail an undefiled
Heart, that he would fain appear
Not a child?
Men, with years and memories piled
Each on other, far and near,
Fain again would so be styled:
Fain would cast off hope and fear,
Rest, forget, be reconciled:
Why would you so fain be, dear,
Not a child?
III.
Child or boy, my darling, which you will,
Still your praise finds heart and song employ,
Heart and song both yearning toward you still,
Child or boy.
All joys else might sooner pall or cloy
Love than this which inly takes its fill,
Dear, of sight of your more perfect joy.
Nay, be aught you please, let all fulfil
All your pleasure; be your world your toy:
Mild or wild we love you, loud or still,
Child or boy.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Tell Me Child
Little one
Sweet child
Play me a song
Let it fill me up
Let it bring me joy
Tell me how to sing along
Tell me how to dance
Tiny one
Lovely child
Give me a game
Let it make me laugh
Let it give me hope
Tell me how to be young
Tell me how to live
Small one
Good child
Give me a day
Let me have a life like yours
Let me follow in your ways
Tell me how to dream
Tell me how to love
Because dear child
In this big bad world
It’s so easy to forget
poem by Fae Sebastian
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