China 1899
She lies, a grave disdain all her defence,
Too imperturbable for scorn. She hears
Only the murmur of the flowing years
That thunder slowly on her shores immense
And ebb away in moaning impotence.
Giants enduring, she and Time are peers--
Her dream-hazed eyes knowing no hopes, no tears,
Her glance a langour-lidded insolence.
And though the rabble of the restless West
In her deserted courts set their rash sway,
She heeds them not; as when the sun, withdrawn
From his untarnished sky, knows it distressed
By storm of weakling stars, that he at dawn
Will wither with one ruthless glance away.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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Related quotes
Recollections
I.
Years upon years, as a course of clouds that thicken
Thronging the ways of the wind that shifts and veers,
Pass, and the flames of remembered fires requicken
Years upon years.
Surely the thought in a man's heart hopes or fears
Now that forgetfulness needs must here have stricken
Anguish, and sweetened the sealed-up springs of tears.
Ah, but the strength of regrets that strain and sicken,
Yearning for love that the veil of death endears,
Slackens not wing for the wings of years that quicken -
Years upon years.
II.
Years upon years, and the flame of love's high altar
Trembles and sinks, and the sense of listening ears
Heeds not the sound that it heard of love's blithe psalter
Years upon years.
Only the sense of a heart that hearkens hears,
Louder than dreams that assail and doubts that palter,
Sorrow that slept and that wakes ere sundawn peers.
Wakes, that the heart may behold, and yet not falter,
Faces of children as stars unknown of, spheres
Seen but of love, that endures though all things alter,
Years upon years.
III.
Years upon years, as a watch by night that passes,
Pass, and the light of their eyes is fire that sears
Slowly the hopes of the fruit that life amasses
Years upon years.
Pale as the glimmer of stars on moorland meres
Lighten the shadows reverberate from the glasses
Held in their hands as they pass among their peers.
Lights that are shadows, as ghosts on graveyard grasses,
Moving on paths that the moon of memory cheers,
Shew but as mists over cloudy mountain passes
Years upon years.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The Vigil
THE rain is falling on the roof,
And no sound else disturbs the wife,
Except the trees and winds at strife,
Now near at hand and now aloof;
But listening, leaning evermore,
She waits a knock upon the door.
Her hair is braided round her head;
Her eyes are large and fierce and bright;
Her shapely throat is soft and white;
And on her mouth there burns the red
Of that rich, storied gem that shone
Upon the breast of Prester John.
Upon the couch her husband lies.
How is it that he lies so still?
Why sleeps he there so pale and chill,
The lamplight on his lidded eyes?
Has she not fire, and more than fire
To thrill his flesh with hot desire?
Anon she lifts her rounded arms
As though to feel that she is free;
And her large eyes exultantly
Light up, as when the dawn-glow charms
With roseate lights that gleam and glance
Twin pools to sudden radiance.
The rain is falling on the roof;
Yet, though her ears are open wide,
There is no other sound outside —
No fall of foot, nor tramp of hoof.
And on his couch with lidded eyes
The husband, cold and pallid, lies.
The midnight sky is wild and black
And drenches earth with ceaseless tears;
And now it seems to her she hears
Hoof-strokes upon the sodden track;
And now she rises, sweet as sin,
To let the late night-strayer in.
The lamplight gleams upon his face,
And glistens on his reddened spur;
He stretches out his arms to her
And folds her in a rude embrace. . . .
How can it be the husband lies
So still, with heavy-lidded eyes?
Perchance he neither sees nor hears,
And sleeps unmoved by chance or change.
And yet. . . .and yet, it seems so strange —
If he be dead there should be tears.
Not love nor smiles, nor midnight bliss,
Nor mouths that marry in a kiss.
The loud winds thrust upon the door,
The raindrops plash against the roof,
The trickles from a waterproof
Make little pools upon the floor;
No foe between, no more apart,
They stand, heart throbbing back to heart.
Anon she says: 'He died this morn.
He did not die a whit too soon;
Life's day, alas, makes towards its noon.
He should have died when love was born.
He should have died long since. And now
Kiss me again — my mouth, my brow!'
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Just a glance
You've taken away my looks, my identity, by just a glance.
You've taken away my looks, my identity, by just a glance.
By making me drink the wine of love-potion,
You've intoxicated me by just a glance;
My fair, delicate wrists with green bangles in them,
Have been held tightly by you with just a glance.
I give my life to you, Oh my cloth-dyer,
You've dyed me in yourself, by just a glance.
I give my whole life to you Oh, Nijam,
You've made me your bride, by just a glance.
You've taken away my looks, my identity, by just a glance.
poem by Amir Khusro
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Years of Tears
Years of tears for no ears to hear, lonely for years am I
Years of tears for no ears to hear in silence they dropp and die
Years of tears, hidden deep, I cannot weep, nor cry.
Years of tears, for many fears of dying alone, I sigh.
Years of tears which no one hears as many years go by.
Years of tears in the lonely sky, my tears grow wings and fly.
Years of tears, my smile shines, through its little lines, I lie.
Years of tears, my somber peers through my melancholy eye
Tears of tears, Years of Years, in my soul, I tie.
Years of tears for no ears to hear my tears weep goodbye….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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They Might Be Giants
Hang on
Hang on tight
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants
They might be rain
They might be heat
They might be frying up a stalk of wheat
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants
They might be brain
They might be washed
They might be dr. spocks back-up band
To make the merry-go-round go faster
So that everyone needs to hang on tighter
Just to keep from being thrown to the wolves
Tabloid footprints in your hair
Tabloid footprints everywhere
We cant be silent
cause they might be giants
And what are we going to do unless they are
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants
They might be bald
They might be snow
They might be something else in the snow
Hang on tight
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants
They might be fake
They might be lies
They might be big, big, fake, fake lies
Tabloid footprints in your hair
Tabloid footprints everywhere
We cant be silent
cause they might be giants
And what are we going to do unless they are
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lines on the Death of Edward John Trelawny
LAST high star of the years whose thunder
Still men’s listening remembrance hears,
Last light left of our fathers’ years,
Watched with honour and hailed with wonder
Thee too then have the years borne under,
Thou too then hast regained thy peers.
Wings that warred with the winds of morning,
Storm-winds rocking the red great dawn,
Close at last, and a film is drawn
Over the eyes of the storm-bird, scorning
Now no longer the loud wind’s warning,
Waves that threaten or waves that fawn.
Peers were none of thee left us living,
Peers of theirs we shall see no more.
Eight years over the full fourscore
Knew thee: now shalt thou sleep, forgiving
All griefs past of the wild world’s giving,
Moored at last on the stormless shore.
Worldwide liberty’s lifelong lover,
Lover no less of the strength of song,
Sea-king, swordsman, hater of wrong,
Over thy dust that the dust shall cover
Comes my song as a bird to hover,
Borne of its will as of wings along.
Cherished of thee were this brief song’s brothers
Now that follows them, cherishing thee.
Over the tides and the tideless sea
Soft as a smile of the earth our mother’s
Flies it faster than all those others,
First of the troop at thy tomb to be.
Memories of Greece and the mountain’s hollow
Guarded alone of thy loyal sword
Hold thy name for our hearts in ward:
Yet more fain are our hearts to follow
One way now with the southward swallow
Back to the grave of the man their lord.
Heart of hearts, art thou moved not, hearing
Surely, if hearts of the dead may hear,
Whose true heart it is now draws near?
Surely the sense of it thrills thee, cheering
Darkness and death with the news now nearing
Shelley, Trelawny rejoins thee here.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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On Seeing a Piece of Our Heavy Artillery Brought into Action
Be slowly lifted up, thou long black arm,
Great Gun towering towards Heaven, about to curse;
Sway steep against them, and for years rehearse
Huge imprecations like a blasting charm!
Reach at that Arrogance which needs thy harm,
And beat it down before its sins grow worse.
Spend our resentment, cannon, -- yea, disburse
Our gold in shapes of flame, our breaths in storm.
Yet, for men's sakes whom thy vast malison
Must wither innocent of enmity,
Be not withdrawn, dark arm, thy spoilure done,
Safe to the bosom of our prosperity.
But when thy spell be cast complete and whole,
May God curse thee, and cut thee from our soul!
poem by Wilfred Owen
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On Seeing a Piece of Our Artillery Brought into Action
Be slowly lifted up, thou long black arm,
Great gun towering towards Heaven, about to curse;
Sway steep against them, and for years rehearse
Huge imprecations like a blasting charm!
Reach at that Arrogance which needs thy harm,
And beat it down before its sins grow worse;
Spend our resentment, cannon,--yea, disburse
Our gold in shapes of flame, our breaths in storm.
Yet, for men's sakes whom thy vast malison
Must wither innocent of enmity,
Be not withdrawn, dark arm, thy spoilure done,
Safe to the bosom of our prosperity.
But when thy spell be cast complete and whole,
May God curse thee, and cut thee from our soul!
poem by Wilfred Owen
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Sonnet: On Seeing A Piece Of Our Heavy Artillery Brought Into Action
Be slowly lifted up, thou long black arm,
Great Gun towering towards Heaven, about to curse;
Sway steep against them, and for years rehearse
Huge imprecations like a blasting charm!
Reach at that Arrogance which needs thy harm,
And beat it down before its sins grow worse.
Spend our resentment, cannon, - yea, disburse
Our gold in shapes of flame, our breaths in storm.
Yet, for men's sakes whom thy vast malison
Must wither innocent of enmity,
Be not withdrawn, dark arm, thy spoilure done,
Safe to the bosom of our prosperity.
But when thy spell be cast complete and whole,
May God curse thee, and cut thee from our soul!
poem by Wilfred Owen
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Memories
let me be that poem
that witnesses your
secret yearning as
your glance falls
into that well of
heaven of his
a tightly guarded
glance that lifts
the veil of longings
to let a fruitful
imagination warm
up your nights
let me be that poem
that witnesses you
open yourself up wholly
to your loved one
without the fear of
losing, brushing his hair
counting each strand
as a blessing you have won
let me be the poem
that witnesses the tears
you let loose the years
years of care and love
expressed with deeds
denied in words
each word of
those years of sacrifice
is now a roll of tears
down a floodgate
greeted by his
heartaching silence
each dropp of tears that runs
thicker than the years
swifter than memory
purifying the window of love
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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I can never dream of God
TELL ME, GOD!
you will let me dream,
that I'l dream of a heaven
I'l never see,
that I'l dream of a hell
that has no pain.
that I'l dream that one day
that I dreamed that I wake!
TELL ME I'L DREAM
that my mother was alive!
Tell me I'l dream
there were tears in my eyes!
Tell me I'l dream
of the first light of day,
TELL ME I'L DREAM!
and I'l dream that I wake!
For, in a grave!
for the rest of my time,
In a grave! in the hell where I lie!
In a grave, where forever I'l sleep,
I'd dream of God,
..........If only I could dream
If Only I Could Dream
TELL ME, GOD!
that you'l let me dream,
that I'l dream of a heaven
I shall never see,
that I'l dream of a hell
that has no pain.
that I'l dream that one day
that I'l dream that I wake!
TELL ME I'L DREAM
that my mother never died!
Tell me I'l dream
there were tears in her eyes!
Tell me I'l dream
of the first light of day,
TELL ME I'L DREAM!
and I'l dream that I wake!
For in a grave!
all the rest of my time,
In a grave!
in the hell where I lie!
In a grave!
where forever I'l sleep,
I'd dream of God,
..........If only I could dream
poem by Cemetery man
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Requiem
NOW veiled in the inviolable past
Love lies asleep, who never more will wake;
Nor would you wake him, even for my sake
Who for your sake pray he sleep sound at last.
What good thing had we of him--we who bore
So long his yoke? what pleasant thing had we
That we should weep his deathlong sleep to see,
Or call on Life to waken him once more?
A little joy he gave, and much of pain,
A little pleasure, and enduring grief,
One flower of joy, and pain piled sheaf on sheaf,
Harvests of loss, for every bud of gain.
Yet where he lies in this deserted place
Divided by his narrow grave we sit,
Welded together by the depths of it,
Watching the years pass, with averted face.
We do not mourn for him, for here is peace;
The old unrest frets not these empty years;
With him went smiles a few, and many tears,
And peace is sweeter far than those or these.
Only--we owe him nothing. If he gave,
We too gave gifts--his gifts were less than ours:
We gave the world, that held so many flowers
For this--the world that only holds his grave.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Stars Are So Innocent
THE STARS ARE SO INNOCENT
The stars are so innocent
When I see them with ignorant eyes-
But when I apply even in my small way
What Astronomy teaches
Oh what hells and darknesses and fires they are –
We can no longer dream as we once did
Even in looking at the stars-
We know too much
And what we know isn’t necessarily
What we would like there to be-
When I glance up in wonder
There is so much I need to forget –
Oh God why did You make it all this way?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Rondel
THESE many years since we began to be,
What have the gods done with us? what with me,
What with my love? they have shown me fates and fears,
Harsh springs, and fountains bitterer than the sea,
Grief a fixed star, and joy a vane that veers,
These many years.
With her, my love, with her have they done well?
But who shall answer for her? who shall tell
Sweet things or sad, such things as no man hears?
May no tears fall, if no tears ever fell,
From eyes more dear to me than starriest spheres
These many years!
But if tears ever touched, for any grief,
Those eyelids folded like a white-rose leaf,
Deep double shells wherethrough the eye-flower peers,
Let them weep once more only, sweet and brief,
Brief tears and bright, for one who gave her tears
These many years.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Faith, Love and Death
GREY dawn—and lucent star that slowly paled
Beyond the breaking splendour of the years,
When boyhood’s heart looked up to heaven, through tears
Of joy, to see the glory of God unveiled:
High noon—and bridal earth, whose footsteps failed
For very love—when passionate hopes and fears
Dazzled the flowers, made music in the ears,
And through the trancéd wood their splendour trailed.
Calm eventide—afar the lonely west
Dreams of the wondrous day, and dreaming, lies
With folded hands, still lips, and weary eyes
Searching the shadows of eternal rest:
Childhood, and youth, and age—for each a prize,
Faith—Love—and Death—I know not which is best.
poem by Dowell O'Reilly
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The Glance
I saw her smile from across the room
The romance began and my love did bloom
She then gave me a glance, I wanted to dance
Underneath the stars and the glow of the moon.
She would be mine forever that night I thought
As slowly towards her that love I sought
We will dance and laugh, she will become my path
She will be mine when her heart I had caught.
I close my eyes and I see us years from now
Together we became one as I gave my vow
She became my mate, and now our life is our fate
With every step closer that promise I avow.
Closer and closer as I approached her my love
As though watched and coached from angels above
I am so near, now her presence and voice I do hear
Now only her and I is all that I am thinking of.
I finally arrive and each other we finally do see
She must know I am the man that she wants me to be
So I reach out my hand, to make that final stand
Then she turns to me and say, that glance wasn't for me.
poem by Randy McClave
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Prescience
The new moon hung in the sky, the sun was low in the west,
And my betrothed and I in the churchyard paused to rest--
Happy maiden and lover, dreaming the old dream over:
The light winds wandered by, and robins chirped from the nest.
And lo! in the meadow sweet was the grave of a little child,
With a crumbling stone at the feet and the ivy running wild--
Tangled ivy and clover folding it over and over:
Close to my sweetheart's feet was the little mound up-piled.
Stricken with nameless fears, she shrank and clung to me,
And her eyes were filled with tears for a sorrow I did not see:
Lightly the winds were blowing, softly her tears were flowing--
Tears for the unknown years and a sorrow that was to be!
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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Gracious glance of innocence
Just snowed winter afternoon
Post-thanksgiving sales
Attractive less expensive shopping
My wife, our son and I
In one of the big retailers of US
Tired of this buying spree
I found a place to sit close to the entrance
And watched the people shopping
Entered a stroller
Holding an infant
Well protected
With a toy nipple in the mouth
I could make out
It was a baby girl
Very cute
Looking around with her
Inquisitive eyes
That had a grace
It occurred so
That I was in her focus
When her stroller passed beside me
Within a metre or so
Her mother was moving around
Things displayed in that side of the shop
And I was in the field her sight
During most of the time
Of her mother’s shopping
The first glance of the kid
Was telling me
“My glance by itself auspicious
Can make glanced at things
Auspicious too”
The second glance of hers
Which struck me
Beneath a displayed pink gown
Told me
“My glance, you know,
Can free you from all bonds,
If you are a person
Seeking that path.
My glance, at the same time,
Can grant worldly pleasures too,
If you are after them”
Her third glance
After a hide through a pillar
Revealed to me
“My glance has the power
To clear all your doubts
And to shatter
Your negative mind-set,
So that you ever remain confident”
As the infant was
Going out of shop
Her glance had a message
“My glance can purify you
And wash off all your sins
And dirt of your previous actions.
Do not you realise now
The power of
The gracious glance of innocence”
(A modified rewrite of Adi Sankara's meaning of one of the thousand names of Lord Vishnu)
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Tears
Mourn that which will not come again,
The joy, the strength of early years.
Bow down thy head, and let thy tears
Water the grave where hope lies slain.
For tears are like a summer rain,
To murmur in a mourner's ears,
To soften all the field of fears,
To moisten valleys parched with pain.
And though thy tears will not awake
What lies beneath of young or fair
And sleeps so sound it draws no breath,
Yet, watered thus, the sod may break
In flowers which sweeten all the air,
And fill with life the place of death.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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