Vision
There shall broad streets their stately walls extend;
Embellished villas crown the landscape scene,
Farms wave with gold, and orchards blush between
There shall tall spires and dome-capt towers ascend,
And piers and quays their massy structures blend;
While each breeze approaching vessels glide,
And northern treasures dance on every tide.
poem by Anonymous Oceania
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Sonnet V
A tide of beauty with returning May
Floods the fair city; from warm pavements fume
Odors endeared; down avenues in bloom
The chestnut-trees with phallic spires are gay.
Over the terrace flows the thronged cafe;
The boulevards are streams of hurrying sound;
And through the streets, like veins when they abound,
The lust for pleasure throbs itself away.
Here let me live, here let me still pursue
Phantoms of bliss that beckon and recede, --
Thy strange allurements, City that I love,
Maze of romance, where I have followed too
The dream Youth treasures of its dearest need
And stars beyond thy towers bring tidings of.
poem by Alan Seeger
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Old Towers Of Mount Royal, Or Ville Marie
On proud Mount Royal’s Eastern side,
In view of St. Lawrence’s silver tide,
Are two stone towers of masonry rude,
With massive doors of time-darken’d wood:
Traces of loop-holes are in the walls,
While softly across them the sun-light falls;
Around broad meadows, quiet and green,
With grazing cattle—a pastoral scene.
Those towers tell of a time long past,
When the red man roamed o’er regions vast,
And the settlers—men of bold heart and brow—
Had to use the sword as well as the plough;
When women (no lovelier now than then)
Had to do the deeds of undaunted men,
And when higher aims engrossed the heart
Than study of fashions or toilet’s art.
A hardy race from beyond the sea
Were those ancient founders of Ville Marie!
The treacherous Sioux and Iroquois bold
Gathered round them as wolves that beset a fold,
Yet they sought their rest free from coward fears;
Though war-whoops often reached their ears,
Or battle’s red light their slumbers dispel,—
They knew God could guard and protect them well.
Look we back nigh two hundred years ago:
Softly St. Lawrence bright waters flow,
Shines the glad sun on each purple hill,
Rougemont, St. Hilary, Boucherville,
Kissing the fairy-like isle of St Paul’s,
Where, hushed and holy, the twilight falls,
Or St. Helen’s, amid the green wave’s spray,
All lovely and calm as it is today.
No villas with porticos handsome, wide,
Then dotted our queenly mountain’s side;
No busy and populous city nigh
Raised steeples and domes to the clear blue sky;
Uncleared, unsettled our forests hoar
Unbridged out river, unwharfed each shore;
While over the waves of emerald hue
Glided, lightly, the Indian’s bark canoe.
It was in those towers—the Southern one—
Sister Margaret Bourgeoys, that sainted nun,
Sat patiently teaching, day after day,
How to find to Jesus the blessed way,
’Mid the daughters swarth of the forest dell,
Who first from her lips of a God heard tell,
And learned the virtues that woman should grace,
Whatever might be her rank or race.
Here, too, in the chapel-tower buried deep,
An Indian brave and his grand-child sleep.
True model of womanly virtues—she—
Acquired at Margaret Bourgeoys’ knee;
He, won to Christ from his own dark creed,
From the trammels fierce of his childhood freed,
Lowly humbled his savage Huron pride,
And amid the pale-faces lived and died.
With each added year grows our city fair,
The steepled church, and spacious square,
Villas and mansions of stately pride
Embellish it now on every side;
Buildings—old land marks—vanish each day,
For stately successors to make way;
But from change like that may time leave free
The ancient towers of Ville Marie!
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One
One, where the pale sea foamed at the yellow sand,
With wave upon slowly shattering wave,
Turned to the city of towers as evening fell;
And slowly walked by the darkening road toward it;
And saw how the towers darkened against the sky;
And across the distance heard the toll of a bell.
Along the darkening road he hurried alone,
With his eyes cast down,
And thought how the streets were hoarse with a tide of people,
With clamor of voices, and numberless faces . . .
And it seemed to him, of a sudden, that he would drown
Here in the quiet of evening air, These empty and voiceless places . . .
And he hurried towards the city, to enter there.
Along the darkening road, between tall trees
That made a sinister whisper, loudly he walked.
Behind him, sea-gulls dipped over long grey seas.
Before him, numberless lovers smiled and talked.
And death was observed with sudden cries,
And birth with laughter and pain.
And the trees grew taller and blacker against the skies
And night came down again.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The House Of Dust: Part 01: 03: One, where the pale sea foamed at the yellow sand
One, where the pale sea foamed at the yellow sand,
With wave upon slowly shattering wave,
Turned to the city of towers as evening fell;
And slowly walked by the darkening road toward it;
And saw how the towers darkened against the sky;
And across the distance heard the toll of a bell.
Along the darkening road he hurried alone,
With his eyes cast down,
And thought how the streets were hoarse with a tide of people,
With clamor of voices, and numberless faces . . .
And it seemed to him, of a sudden, that he would drown
Here in the quiet of evening air,
These empty and voiceless places . . .
And he hurried towards the city, to enter there.
Along the darkening road, between tall trees
That made a sinister whisper, loudly he walked.
Behind him, sea-gulls dipped over long grey seas.
Before him, numberless lovers smiled and talked.
And death was observed with sudden cries,
And birth with laughter and pain.
And the trees grew taller and blacker against the skies
And night came down again.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Islands
Earth, stream and tree encircled by sea
Waves sweep the sand from my island.
My sunsets fade.
Field and glade wait only for rain
Grain after grain love erodes my
High weathered walls which fend off the tide
Cradle the wind
To my island.
Gaunt granite climbs where gulls wheel and glide
Mournfully glide oer my island.
My dawn brides veil, damp and pale,
Dissolves in the sun.
Loves web is spun - cats prowl, mice run
Wreathe snatch-hand briars where owls know my eyes
Violet skies
Touch my island,
Touch me.
Beneath the wind turned wave
Infinite peace
Islands join hands
neathe heavens sea.
Dark harbour quays like fingers of stone
Hungrily reach from my island.
Clutch sailors words - pearls and gourds
Are strewn on my shore.
Equal in love, bound in circles.
Earth, stream and tree return to the sea
Waves sweep sand from my island,
From me.
song performed by by King Crimson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Gentlemen the Queen
A view to see of red and gold
the horses march ahead
and through the great imperial gate
the stately coach is led
With many years of joy and tears
the Queen admires the crowd
she's seen it all her head still tall
a wave a smile a bow
A sea of heads and arms and legs
erupt as she goes by
the banners wave the big parade
the screams the shouts the cries
Only in old London town
could such a sight be seen
oh what a wonder she endows
gentlemen the Queen.
poem by Charles M. Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The City In The Sea
Lo! Death has reared himself a throne
In a strange city lying alone
Far down within the dim West,
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best
Have gone to their eternal rest.
There shrines and palaces and towers
(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)
Resemble nothing that is ours.
Around, by lifting winds forgot,
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters he.
No rays from the holy heaven come down
On the long night-time of that town;
But light from out the lurid sea
Streams up the turrets silently-
Gleams up the pinnacles far and free-
Up domes- up spires- up kingly halls-
Up fanes- up Babylon-like walls-
Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers
Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers-
Up many and many a marvellous shrine
Whose wreathed friezes intertwine
The viol, the violet, and the vine.
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
So blend the turrets and shadows there
That all seem pendulous in air,
While from a proud tower in the town
Death looks gigantically down.
There open fanes and gaping graves
Yawn level with the luminous waves;
But not the riches there that lie
In each idol's diamond eye-
Not the gaily-jewelled dead
Tempt the waters from their bed;
For no ripples curl, alas!
Along that wilderness of glass-
No swellings tell that winds may be
Upon some far-off happier sea-
No heavings hint that winds have been
On seas less hideously serene.
But lo, a stir is in the air!
The wave- there is a movement there!
As if the towers had thrust aside,
In slightly sinking, the dull tide-
As if their tops had feebly given
A void within the filmy Heaven.
The waves have now a redder glow-
The hours are breathing faint and low-
And when, amid no earthly moans,
Down, down that town shall settle hence,
Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,
Shall do it reverence.
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mannahatta
I WAS asking for something specific and perfect for my city,
Whereupon, lo! upsprang the aboriginal name!
Now I see what there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane, unruly,
musical, self-sufficient;
I see that the word of my city is that word up there,
Because I see that word nested in nests of water-bays, superb, with
tall and wonderful spires,
Rich, hemm'd thick all around with sailships and steamships--an
island sixteen miles long, solid-founded,
Numberless crowded streets--high growths of iron, slender, strong,
light, splendidly uprising toward clear skies;
Tide swift and ample, well-loved by me, toward sundown,
The flowing sea-currents, the little islands, larger adjoining
islands, the heights, the villas,
The countless masts, the white shore-steamers, the lighters, the
ferry-boats, the black sea-steamers well-model'd; 10
The down-town streets, the jobbers' houses of business--the houses of
business of the ship-merchants, and money-brokers--the river-
streets;
Immigrants arriving, fifteen or twenty thousand in a week;
The carts hauling goods--the manly race of drivers of horses--the
brown-faced sailors;
The summer air, the bright sun shining, and the sailing clouds aloft;
The winter snows, the sleigh-bells--the broken ice in the river,
passing along, up or down, with the flood tide or ebb-tide;
The mechanics of the city, the masters, well-form'd, beautiful-faced,
looking you straight in the eyes;
Trottoirs throng'd--vehicles--Broadway--the women--the shops and
shows,
The parades, processions, bugles playing, flags flying, drums
beating;
A million people--manners free and superb--open voices--hospitality--
the most courageous and friendly young men;
The free city! no slaves! no owners of slaves! 20
The beautiful city, the city of hurried and sparkling waters! the
city of spires and masts!
The city nested in bays! my city!
The city of such women, I am mad to be with them! I will return after
death to be with them!
The city of such young men, I swear I cannot live happy, without I
often go talk, walk, eat, drink, sleep, with them!
poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cathedral Spires
They have blown away the daylight hours we had
Left a leagcy, a deadly aftermath
We cannot exist in godforsaken lands
As we spiral down into oblivion
Breathing the fumes of fires that they ignite
Losing ground and we are all just losing sight
We shall never see another setting sun
Time to rise up and ascend, the end has come
No more willpower
Choked by hell fire
Darkness above
Blackening out the sun
Gripped by steel claws
Corrosion eating us
So before were all devoured
Time to rise up and retire
In cathedral spires
Watching as the world expires
From up amongst the clouds
In cathedral spires
No names
No graves
No prayers
Can save us
Ashes to dust
Doomsdays upon us now
It cannot be stopped
Genocide all is lost
Oh! were so tired
Time to rise up and conspire
In cathedral spires
Watching as our world expires
From up above the clouds
In cathedral spires
Jaws of corruption
Swallow us as one
Consuming every nation
Evoke resistance getting none
Complete disintegration
No good to defend
There can be but one outcome
We are no more - ascend
Vaporized fury
Offers no sanctuary
Oh! were so tired
Time to rise up and retire
In cathedral spires
Watching as the world expires
From up amongst the clouds
In cathedral
In cathedral spires
Oh! were so tired
Watching the world expire
Time that we retire
Up in cathedral spires
Oh! were so tired
Watching the world expire
Time that we retire
Up in cathedral spires
Oh! were so tired
Watching the world expire
Time that we retire
Up in cathedral spires
Oh! were so tired
Watching the world expire
Time that we retire
Up in cathedral spires
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Birds
Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God.
~ Luke, xii, 6.
TRIBES of the air! whose favored race
May wander through the realms of space,
Free guests of earth and sky;
In form, in plumage, and in song,
What gifts of nature mark your throng
With bright variety!
Nor differ less your forms, your flight,
Your dwellings hid from hostile sight,
And the wild haunts ye love;
Birds of the gentle beak! how dear
Your wood-note, to the wanderer's ear,
In shadowy vale or grove!
Far other scenes, remote, sublime,
Where swain or hunter may not climb,
The mountain-eagle seeks;
Alone he reigns, a monarch there,
Scarce will the chamois' footstep dare
Ascend his Alpine peaks.
Others there are, that make their home
Where the white billows roar and foam,
Around th' o'erhanging rock;
Fearless they skim the angry wave,
Or sheltered in their sea-beat cave,
The tempest's fury mock.
Where Afric's burning realm expands,
The ostrich haunts the desert sands,
Parched by the blaze of day;
The swan, where northern rivers glide,
Through the tall reeds that fringe their tide,
Floats graceful on her way.
The condor, where the Andes tower,
Spreads his broad wing of pride and power,
And many a storm defies;
Bright in the orient realms of morn,
All beauty's richest hues adorn
The Bird of Paradise.
Some, amidst India's grove of palm,
And spicy forests breathing balm,
Weave soft their pendent nest;
Some, deep in western wilds, display
Their fairy form and plumage gay,
In rainbow colors drest.
Others no varied song may pour,
May boast no eagle-plume to soar,
No tints of light may wear;
Yet, know, our Heavenly Father guides
The least of these, and well provides
For each, with tenderest care.
Shall He not then thy guardian be?
Will not his aid extend to thee?
Oh! safely may'st thou rest!?
Trust in his love, and e'en should pain,
Should sorrow tempt thee to complain,
Know, what He wills is best!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tall Treasures
Golden rings and hair tied with ribbon
Early spring when winters forgiven
Laughing past pleasures warm by the fire
Come inside
Silver vase, take a drink flower petal
Whistling songs like steam from the kettle
Carry silence like driftwood that rides
On the tide, on the tide, on the tide
Tall treasures, large as alaska
There forever, never put out to pasture
Then the night will fall
Bringing peace to all
Darkness there together
Soft light bells and tea, draw the curtain
China cups, some shatter for certain
Laughin past pleasures warm by the fire
Come inside
Tall treasures, large as alaska
There forever, never put out to pasture
Red river runs here beside us
Grey morning will never divide us
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Call of the Bush
Three roads there are that climb and wind
Amongst the hills, and leave behind
The patterned orchards, sloping down
To meet a little country town.
And of these roads I'll take the one
That tops the ridges, where the sun
Is tempered by the mountain-breeze
And dancing shadows of the trees.
The road is rough - but to my feet
Softer than is the city street;
And then the trees! - how beautiful
She-oak and gum - how fresh and cool!
No walls there are to hamper me;
Only in blue infinity
The distant mountain-ramparts rise
Beneath the broad arch of the skies.
And in that high place I shall hear
The wild birds' singing, soft and clear;
And horse-bells tinkling as of old
In amongst the wattles' gold
Far-off is the ocean tide;
But there across the country-side
Roll waves of bush that rise and fall
To break against the mountain-wall.
And every little farm is seen
An island in a sea of green;
And every little farm at night
Flings through the dark its beacon-light -
There in the silence of the hills,
I shall find peace that soothes and stills
The throbbing of the weary brain, -
For I am going home again.
poem by Dora Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Perennial Calendar (excerpt)
If now the sun extends his cheering beam,
And all the landscape casts a golden gleam
Clear is the sky, and calm and soft the air,
And through thin mist each object looks more fair.
Then, where the villa rears its sheltering grove,
Along the southern lawn 'tis sweet to rove:
There dark green pines, behind, their boughs extend,
And bright spruce firs like pyramids ascend,
And round their tops, in many a pendent row,
Their scaly cones of shining auburn show;
There the broad cedar's level branches spread,
And the tall cyprus lifts its spiry head;
With alaternus ilex interweaves,
And laurels mix their glossy oval leaves;
And gilded holly crimson fruit displays,
And white viburnum o'er the border strays.
Where these from storms the spacious greenhouse screen,
Ev'n now the eye beholds a flowery scene;
There crystal sashes ward the injurious cold,
And rows of benches fair exotics hold;
Rich plants, that Afric's sunny cape supplies,
Or o'er the isles of either India rise.
While striped geranium shows its tufts of red,
And verdant myrtles grateful fragrance shed;
A moment stay to mark the vivid bloom,
A moment stay to catch the high perfume.
poem by William Forster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Magic Carpet Ride
Take me for a magic carpet ride.
Let that magic carpet glide
slowly so I can see
all the places where misery
lives every day.
Let it glide over Iraq
so I can see why our boys can't come back
to their babies and wives
and try best they can to get on with their lives.
Let it glide over the Gaza strip
where two nations are joined at the hip
and don't even know it.
I can see the misery from where I sit.
Let it glide over the oil fields
where they pump the lifeblood that the earth yields.
Black gold all for a price
in a bloody war of sacrifice.
Let it glide over the African land
to help me try and understand
why all of its beauty and natural resource
is raped and pillaged with no remorse.
Let it glide over China's great wall
separating its people from the rest of us all,
where liberties are abused on every day,
where no one's allowed to have a say.
Let me glide over the Vatican
where so much praise is given one man.
Gold is there wherever I gaze.
Poverty forgotten, but not the praise.
Let me glide over the streets of our cities
where the smog is thick and makes you wheeze.
The homeless and beggars begging for change
in a land of freedom. I find that strange.
Take me back to my own little home
from wherever my carpet ride did roam.
I've seen too much misery for one long day.
It's time for me to lie down and pray.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Approaching Spring
spring soon will be here
Away from the winter's snow
Drying up every frosty tear
And causing the landscape to glow
But the shine of spring I need right now
I need all the help I can get
To wave goodbye to this past winter
In hopes that I can forget
I've lost all my real friends
And almost ever other friendship too
Right now I am just amazed
That I haven't yet lost you
The approaching spring will hit restart
It's something that we all need
The approaching spring will fix our hearts
And allow our souls to breathe
poem by Matt Burgett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Can’t Feel Your Heartbeat, But I Can Feel Your Breaths
Hell fire and high heels –
Blue pills and backseats,
Needle points with track meet hearts,
Death rattles, and blood baths, amongst the dead heat.
Now I dance in the moon light,
Gold and good intentions pave my streets.
These words lost in notions of wrong and right,
A sad, sad day when Angels and Demons meet.
She is mental atrophy, emotional paralysis –
Love's sweet and unyielding cancer,
She is pandemonium at its worst, carnage at its best,
This woman is the devils dancer.
Now I dance in the moon light,
Gold and good intentions pave my streets.
These words lost in notions of wrong and right,
A sad, sad day when Angels and Demons meet.
I breathe her.
I need her!
I lust for her lies!
I thirst for her ways.
I crave her legs!
I'm fed by her sinful eyes!
I drink her dire secrets.
I'm nourished by her flaws!
Lost in the walls of her deceit.
It's sad, so sad when the demons creep.
Now I dance in the moon light,
Gold and good intentions pave my streets.
These words lost in notions of wrong and right,
A sad, sad day when Angels and Demons meet.
She is the catalyst of my demise –
The architect of my wayward prayers,
Jezebel seducing Samson,
The owner of all my lustful stares.
Now I dance in the moon light,
Gold and good intentions pave my streets.
These words lost in notions of wrong and right,
A sad, sad day when Angels and Demons meet.
poem by Caleb Crow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To The Sea
Away...
Away...
You may have many problems
But i was never one
All i ask is take me to the sea
You had to take me somewhere
I realize it now
Listen now just take me to the sea
Away from flickering nights and crowded streets
Away from blinding lights and shining needs
Away from person hiding, breathing hard
Away from always paying on your card
This will be my way out
And you will be my guide
Don't argue, take me to the sea
I'm only asking this once
Please take me for a ride
All i ask is take me to the sea
To the sea
To the sea
To the sea
To the sea
Then leave me with the seagulls
Smile your sweetest smile
I'll kiss you like the salty northern breeze
Drop silver on your forehead
And wave my last goodbye
All you do is take me to the sea
To the sea
To the sea
To the sea
To the sea . . .
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
To The Sea
Away...
Away...
You may have many problems
But i was never one
All i ask is take me to the sea
You had to take me somewhere
I realize it now
Listen now just take me to the sea
Away from flickering nights and crowded streets
Away from blinding lights and shining needs
Away from person hiding, breathing hard
Away from always paying on your card
This will be my way out
And you will be my guide
Don't argue, take me to the sea
I'm only asking this once
Please take me for a ride
All i ask is take me to the sea
To the sea
To the sea
To the sea
To the sea
Then leave me with the seagulls
Smile your sweetest smile
I'll kiss you like the salty northern breeze
Drop silver on your forehead
And wave my last goodbye
All you do is take me to the sea
To the sea
To the sea
To the sea
To the sea . . .
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Walls
Walls of stone and walls of brick,
Some walls thin and some walls thick,
Walls so high and walls so low,
Walls to hide and walls to show.
Walls quite short and walls quite tall,
Some walls, last well, some walls fall,
Walls for comfort, walls of hate,
Walls for security, walls ornate.
Some as a barricade, some to support,
Walls of wood and walls of iron wrought,
Walls as a barrier, walls to enclose,
Some are to sit on, some to lean and doze.
Walls we build ourselves, these aren't good,
Walls for privacy, walls that have stood,
So many years through weather foul or fine,
Walls, that are yours, walls that are mine.
Brick by brick they are built to last,
Whether built now or in the past,
They shelter us from so many things,
And shield us from whatever this life brings.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Market Day
White, glittering sunlight fills the market square,
Spotted and sprigged with shadows. Double rows
Of bartering booths spread out their tempting shows
Of globed and golden fruit, the morning air
Smells sweet with ripeness, on the pavement there
A wicker basket gapes and overflows
Spilling out cool, blue plums. The market glows,
And flaunts, and clatters in its busy care.
A stately minster at the northern side
Lifts its twin spires to the distant sky,
Pinnacled, carved and buttressed; through the wide
Arched doorway peals an organ, suddenly --
Crashing, triumphant in its pregnant tide,
Quenching the square in vibrant harmony.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!