En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Song

Songs that could span the earth,
When leaping thought had stirred them,
In many an hour since birth,
We heard or dreamed we heard them.

Sometimes to all their sway
We yield ourselves half fearing,
Sometimes with hearts grown grey
We curse ourselves for hearing.

We toil and but begin;
In vain our spirits fret them,
We strive, and cannot win,
Nor evermore forget them.

A light that will not stand,
That comes and goes in flashes,
Fair fruits that in the hand
Are turned to dust and ashes.

Yet still the deep thoughts ring
Around and through and through us,
Sweet mights that make us sing,
But bring no resting to us.

poem by Archibald Lampman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Child's Laughter

ALL the bells of heaven may ring,
All the birds of heaven may sing,
All the wells on earth may spring,
All the winds on earth may bring
All sweet sounds together---
Sweeter far than all things heard,
Hand of harper, tone of bird,
Sound of woods at sundawn stirred,
Welling water's winsome word,
Wind in warm wan weather,

One thing yet there is, that none
Hearing ere its chime be done
Knows not well the sweetest one
Heard of man beneath the sun,
Hoped in heaven hereafter;
Soft and strong and loud and light,
Very sound of very light
Heard from morning's rosiest height,
When the soul of all delight
Fills a child's clear laughter.

Golden bells of welcome rolled
Never forth such notes, nor told
Hours so blithe in tones so bold,
As the radiant mouth of gold
Here that rings forth heaven.
If the golden-crested wren
Were a nightingale---why, then,
Something seen and heard of men
Might be half as sweet as when
Laughs a child of seven.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Is There Anyone Home

Is there anyone home in this house made of stone?
Anyone inside know my name
Ive been around for a half of a hundred days.
Never saw a door shut so tight
Turn around, dont look down
Theres a man behind you with a gun
Like any wandering child in the wilderness,
Wild and uncaged are your ways
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
Theres a light around you
Ive come to switch it on
It will brighten every room
Dont be ashamed if you feel a whole lot warmer in you heart.
You got that feelin in your soul
Is there anyone home in this house made of stone?
Anyone in there who might care
Ive grown weary and wise and I feel much amazed.
Got a few good tales to unwind
Turn around, dont look down
Theres a man behind you with a gun.
Like any wandering minstrel Ive dawned in the house of a thousand delights.
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred

song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Picture Of A Young Lady

When I was sitting, sad, and all alone,
Remembering youth and love for ever fled,
And many friends now resting with the dead,
While the still summer's light departing shone,
Like many sweet and silent summers gone;
Thou camest, as a vision, with a mien
And smile like those I once on earth had seen,
And with a voice of that remembered tone
Which I in other days, long since, had heard:
Like Peace approaching, when distempers fret
Most the tired spirit, thy fair form appeared;
And till I die, I never shall forget,--
For at thy footstep light, the gloom was cheered,--
Thy look and voice, oh! gentle Margaret.

poem by William Lisle Bowles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Songs for the People

Let me make the songs for the people,
Songs for the old and young;
Songs to stir like a battle-cry
Wherever they are sung.

Not for the clashing of sabres,
For carnage nor for strife;
But songs to thrill the hearts of men
With more abundant life.

Let me make the songs for the weary,
Amid life's fever and fret,
Till hearts shall relax their tension,
And careworn brows forget.

Let me sing for little children,
Before their footsteps stray,
Sweet anthems of love and duty,
To float o'er life's highway.

I would sing for the poor and aged,
When shadows dim their sight;
Of the bright and restful mansions,
Where there shall be no night.

Our world, so worn and weary,
Needs music, pure and strong,
To hush the jangle and discords
Of sorrow, pain, and wrong.

Music to soothe all its sorrow,
Till war and crime shall cease;
And the hearts of men grown tender
Girdle the world with peace.

poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Sonnet XXVIII: Reign In My Thoughts

Reign in my thoughts, fair hand, sweet eye, rare voice:
Possess me whole, my heart's triumvirate;
Yet heavy heart to make so hard a choice,
Of such as spoil thy poor afflicted stated.
For whilst they strive which shall be Lord of all,
All my poor life by them is trodden down;
They all erect their Trophies on my fall,
And yield me nought that gives them their renown.
When back I look, I sigh my freedom past,
And wail the state wherein I present stand,
And see my fortune ever like to last,
Finding me reign'd with such a heavy hand.
What can I do by yield, and yield I do,
And serve all three, and yet they spoil me too.

poem by Samuel Daniel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Psalm 39 part 2

v.4-7
C. M.
The vanity of man as mortal.

Teach me the measure of my days,
Thou Maker of my frame;
I would survey life's narrow space,
And learn how frail I am.

A span is all that we can boast,
An inch or two of time;
Man is but vanity and dust
In all his flower and prime.

See the vain race of mortals move
Like shadows o'er the plain;
They rage and strive, desire and love,
But all the noise is vain.

Some walk in honor's gaudy show,
Some dig for golden ore;
They toil for heirs, they know not who,
And straight are seen no more.

What should I wish or wait for, then,
From creatures earth and dust?
They make our expectations vain,
And disappoint our trust.

Now I forbid my carnal hope,
My fond desires recall;
I give my mortal interest up,
And make my God my all.

poem by Isaac Watts
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The singing falcon (hybridanelle)

I heard the falcon’s cry,
a myth of native lore
from high up in the sky

like a golden-hot ray
it came from the sun
at the break of day

sublime the notes came as I
walked the veldt, with beauty at the core.
I heard the falcon’s cry;

it was very high and far away
only a speck in the solar gradient,
it came from the sun.

I could not see it with my eye
it turned on upper winds to explore
from high up in the sky

it was triumphant, glowing radiant,
pure as light turned to sound
only a speck in the solar gradient,

the air was azure and the day was dry
and I was on the track of a lone lion before
I heard the falcon’s cry

and great beauty that I found
as if hearing a flying trumpet sing
pure as light turned to sound

I saw the soaring predator fly
with claws and beak ready to gore
from high up in the sky

and it made my ears ring,
inside its resonance
as if hearing a flying trumpet sing

a thing no money could buy
or imitate in a musical score.
I heard the falcon’s cry
from high up in the sky

pristine without dissonance
like a golden-hot ray
inside its resonance
at the break of day.

[References: The Singing Hawk by Roy Campbell. With great thanks to Ronald Peat for his help.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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For A Nephew And A Niece

i will give you sweet memories.
nice dining. stories. fairy tales.
some realities.
shells and the sounds of its songs
when felt by your ears.
i give you laughter.
jokes that you have not heard before.
i can be your clown
and you trusted adviser about first love.
these moments you must always remember.
we feast on a beautiful sunrise.
wide span of grass, so green.
we breathe the cool sea breeze.
here. we make the bond. we seal the day
in peace. in harmony.
i have become your friend
i bring you tidings. I bring you sweet years.

when i get old and you become your own selves
i ask you, let us relive these moments.
do not forget, we had the nicest times together.
do not forget, i will just be a memory.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Song of The Stream-Drops

By silent forest and field and mossy stone,
We come from the wooden hill, and we go to the sea.
We labour, and sing sweet songs, but we never moan,
For our mother, the sea, is calling us cheerily.
We have heard her calling us many and many a day
From the cool grey stones and the white sands far away.

The way is long, and winding and slow is the track,
The sharp rocks fret us, the eddies bring us delay,
But we sing sweet songs to our mother, and answer her back;
Gladly we answer our mother, sweetly repay.
Oh, we hear, we hear her singing wherever we roam,
Far, far away in the silence, calling us home.

Poor mortal, your ears are dull, and you cannot hear;
But we, we hear it, the breast of our mother abeat;
Low, far away, sweet and solemn and clear,
Under the hush of the night, under the noon-tide heat:
And we sing sweet songs to our mother, for so we shall please her best,
Songs of beauty and peace, freedom and infinite rest.

We sing, and sing, through the grass and the stones and the reeds,
And we never grow tired, though we journey ever and aye,
Dreaming, and dreaming, wherever the long way leads,
Of the far cool rocks and the rush of the wind and the spray.
Under the sun and the stars we murmur and dance and are free,
And we dream and dream of our mother, the width of the sheltering sea.

poem by Archibald Lampman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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* * *

Sing me no sad songs cause my hearts
been broken too many times and I've cried
myself asleep too many nights.

Sing me no sad songs cause they bring
back all the hurt and all the memories that
I'm tryin' to forget.

Sing me no sad songs cause I'm feelin'
low and those songs just keep me down.
They keep me from smiling or seein' the sun.

Sing me no sad songs, cause I'm tryin' to
raise myself up and lookin' for a feel
good song and a feel good smile.

Sing me no sad songs cause they chase away
all the stuff that's good in life. Those sad songs...
they always make my brown eyes blue and lock
the door on love and such.

Baby...sing me no sad songs, just hold me and
sing softly...the songs of love and the songs of hope.

If I live to be a hundred I never want to hear those
bad feelin' sad songs again.

poem by Joe Fazio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sing Me No Sad Songs

Sing me no sad songs cause my hearts
been broken too many times and I've cried
myself asleep too many nights.

Sing me no sad songs cause they bring
back all the hurt and all the memories that
I'm tryin' to forget.

Sing me no sad songs cause I'm feelin'
low and those songs just keep me down.
They keep me from smiling or seein' the sun.

Sing me no sad songs, cause I'm tryin' to
raise myself up and lookin' for a feel
good song and a feel good smile.

Sing me no sad songs cause they chase away
all the stuff that's good in life. Those sad songs...
they always make my brown eyes blue and lock
the door on love and such.

Baby...sing me no sad songs, just hold me and
sing softly...the songs of love and the songs of hope.

If I live to be a hundred I never want to hear those
bad feelin' sad songs again.

poem by Joe Fazio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Happy Song...

Sing me no sad songs cause my hearts
been broken too many times and I've cried
myself asleep too many nights.

Sing me no sad songs cause they bring
back all the hurt and all the memories that
I'm tryin' to forget.

Sing me no sad songs cause I'm feelin'
low and those songs just keep me down.
They keep me from smiling or seein' the sun.

Sing me no sad songs, cause I'm tryin' to
raise myself up and lookin' for a feel
good song and a feel good smile.

Sing me no sad songs cause they chase away
all the stuff that's good in life. Those sad songs...
they always make my brown eyes blue and lock
the door on love and such.

Baby...sing me no sad songs, just hold me and
sing softly...the songs of love and the songs of hope.

If I live to be a hundred I never want to hear those
bad feelin' sad songs again.

poem by Joe Fazio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smoke & Ashes

Id heard rumors and Id heard talk
About the trail youd left of broken hearts
About the sea of tears too wide to cross
But a little bad press has never scared me off
So I burned a path to figure out
How to get me some of what you got
Ive got a red hot heart
If the talk is true yours is the same
And we should be together
And let our passions fan loves flame
When I looked for you I almost passed you by
You were so cool and calm I thought my friends had lied
But I thought so much reserve must make you wild inside
It was there and then that I knew I had to get some of what you got
Ive got a red hot heart
If the talk is true yours is the same
And we should be together
And let our passions fan loves flame
I thought Id won your heart when I held you hand in mine
I thought it was true love the way we complemented each other
But my right is your wrong
And when youre right then Im left with nothing
Your light and your heat have all been spent
Leaving only smoke and ashes
Only smoke and ashes baby
Ive got a red hot heart
Any your hearts as blue as the blood in your veins
I say theres fire down below
You say its only smoke and ashes baby
Im crying all the time
Salty stinging tears
And mourning for the past carbon-dated years
But knowing now for certain that you were always right
Because if a breeze could blow you out of my life
Its only smoke and ashes baby
Only smoke and ashes baby
Ive got a red hot heart
And your hearts as blue as the blood in your veins
I say theres fire down below
You say its only smoke and ashes baby
I was blinded by devotion
My unwavering love for you
So blinded that I thought all your lies were true
But now I know for certain since youve gone away
It was just a smoldering fire I mistook for a blaze
Only smoke and ashes baby
Ive got a red hot heart
And your hearts as blue as the blood in your veins
I say theres fire down below
You say its only smoke and ashes baby
Only smoke and ashes baby, baby ...

song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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006-Sing Me No Sad Songs

Sing me no sad songs cause my hearts
been broken too many times and I've cried
myself asleep too many nights.

Sing me no sad songs cause they bring
back all the hurt and all the memories that
I'm tryin' to forget.

Sing me no sad songs cause I'm feelin'
low and those songs just keep me down.
They keep me from smiling or seein' the sun.

Sing me no sad songs, cause I'm tryin' to
raise myself up and lookin' for a feel
good song and a feel good smile.

Sing me no sad songs cause they chase away
all the stuff that's good in life. Those sad songs...
they always make my brown eyes blue and lock
the door on love and such.

Baby...sing me no sad songs, just hold me and
sing softly...the songs of love and the songs of hope.

If I live to be a hundred I never want to hear those
bad feelin' sad songs again.

poem by Waldon Pond Productions
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Losing My Relgion

Life is bigger
It's bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no I've said too much
I set it up
That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no I've said too much
I haven't said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try
Every whisper
Of every waking hour I'm
Choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool
Oh no I've said too much
I set it up
Consider this
The hint of the century
Consider this
The slip that brought me
To my knees failed
What if all these fantasies
Come flailing around
Now I've said too much
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try
But that was just a dream
That was just a dream

song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Losing My Religion

Life is bigger
It's bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no I've said too much
I set it up

That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no I've said too much
I haven't said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

Every whisper
Of every waking hour I'm
Choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool
Oh no I've said too much
I set it up

Consider this
The hint of the century
Consider this
The slip that brought me
To my knees failed
What if all these fantasies
Come flailing around
Now I've said too much
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

But that was just a dream
That was just a dream

song performed by by R.E.M. from Out of Time
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Losing My Religion

Life is bigger
Its bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no Ive said too much
I set it up
Thats me in the corner
Thats me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I dont know if I can do it
Oh no Ive said too much
I havent said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try
Every whisper
Of every waking hour im
Choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool
Oh no Ive said too much
I set it up
Consider this
The hint of the century
Consider this
The slip that brought me
To my knees failed
What if all these fantasies
Come flailing around
Now Ive said too much
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try
But that was just a dream
That was just a dream

song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Fitz-Greene Halleck

I see the sons of genius rise
The nobles of our land,
And foremost in the gathering ranks
I see the poet-band.
That priesthood of the Beautiful
To whom alone 't is given
To lift our spirits from the dust,
Back to their native heaven.
But there is one among the throng
Not passed his manhood's prime,
The laurel-wreath upon his brow
Has greener grown with time;
And in his eye yet glows the light
Of the celestial fire,
But cast beside him on the earth
Is his neglected lyre.
The lyre whose high heroic notes
A thousand hearts have stirred
Lies mute---the skilful hand no more
Awakes one slumbering chord.
O poet, rouse thee from thy dreams!
Wake from the voiceless slumbers,
And once again give to the breeze
The music of thy numbers.
Sing! for our country claims her bards,
She listens for thy strains;
Sing! for upon our jarring earth
Too much of discord reigns.

poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Last Night I Dreamed Of Heaven

LAST NIGHT I DREAMED OF HEAVEN
WRITER HANK WILLIAMS
Last night I dreamed of heaven and I saw my mother there
Standing with all the angels on a golden stair
I thought I heard her whisper welcome home my boy
Last night I dreamed of heaven and it filled my heart with joy
I heard the angels singing songs of peace and rest
And then there was a silence
Each eye looked toward the west
There sat my Saviour on his golden throne
Last night I dreamed of heaven my eternal home sweet home
Last night I dreamed of heaven that land so pure and sweet
And the joy within me made my glad heart weep
I was there with my Saviour free from grief and strife
Last night I dreamed of heaven the land of eternal life
I heard the angels singing songs of peace and rest
And then there was a silence
Each eye looked toward the west
There sat my Saviour on his golden throne
Last night I dreamed of heaven my eternal home sweet home

song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To a silent poet

I see the sons of Genius rise
The nobles of our land;
And foremost in the gathering ranks
I see the poet band.

That Priesthood of the beautiful,
To whom alone 'tis given
To lift our spirits from the dust,
Back to their native heaven.

But there is one amid the throng,
Not past his manhood's prime;
The laurel wreath upon his brow,
Has greener grown with time.

And in his eye yet glows the light
Of the celestial fire;
But cast beside him, on the earth,
Is his neglected lyre.

The lyre, whose high, heroic notes
A thousand hearts have stirred,
Lies mute, -- the skillful hand no more
Awakes one slumbering chord.

Oh poet! rouse thee from thy dreams!
Wake from thy voiceless slumbers!
And once again give to the breeze
The music of thy numbers.

Sing, for our country claims her bard,
She listens for thy strains;
Sing, for upon our jarring earth,
Too much of discord reigns.

poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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