En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Good Morning

Day's coming up now, joy's returned,
Sorrow's dark cloud-castles captured and burned;
Over the mountain-tops glowing
Light-king his armies is throwing.
'Up now, up now!' calls the bird,
'Up now, up now!' child-voice heard,
Up now my hope in sunshine. '

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Bird Of Hope

Soar not too high, O bird of Hope!
Because the skies are fair;
The tempest may come on apace
And overcome thee there.

When far above the mountain tops
Thou soarest, over all –
If, then, the storm should press thee back,
How great would be thy fall!

And thou wouldst lie here at my feet,
A poor and lifeless thing, -
A torn and bleeding birdling,
With limp and broken wing.

Sing not too loud, O bird of Hope!
Because the day is bright;
The sunshine cannot always last –
The morn precedes the night.

And if thy song is of the day,
Then when the day grows dim,
Forlorn and voiceless thou wouldst sit
Among the shadows grim.

Oh! I would have thee soar and sing,
But not too high, or loud,
Remembering that day meets night –
The brilliant sun the cloud.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Chanson Sans Paroles

I the deep violet air,
Not a leaf is stirred;
There is no sound heard,
But afar, the rare
Trilled voice of a bird.

Is the wood's dim heart,
And the fragrant pine,
Incense, and a shrine
Of her coming. Apart,
I wait for a sign.

What the sudden hush said,
She will hear, and forsake,
Swift, for my sake,
Her green, grassy bed:
She will hear and awake!

She will hearken and glide,
From her place of deep rest,
Dove-eyed, with the breast
Of a dove, to my side:
The pines bow their crest.

I wait for a sign:
The leaves to be waved,
The tall tree-tops laved
In a flood of sunshine,
This world to be saved!

In the deep violet air,
Not a leaf is stirred;
There is no sound heard,
But afar, the rare
Trilled voice of a bird.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Look-Out Mountain

WHO inhabiteth the Mountain
That it shines in lurid light,
And is rolled about with thunders,
And terrors, and a blight,
Like Kaf the peak of Eblis-
Kaf, the evil height?
Who has gone up with a shouting
And a trumpet in the night?

There is battle in the Mountain-
Might assaulteth Might;
'Tis the fastness of the Anarch,
Torrent-torn, an ancient height;
The crags resound the clangor
Of the war of Wrong and Right;
And the armies in the valley
Watch and pray for dawning light.

Joy, joy, the day is breaking,
And the cloud is rolled from sight;
There is triumph in the Morning
For the Anarch's plunging flight;
God has glorified the Mountain
Where a banner burneth bright,
And the armies of the valley
They are fortified in right.

poem by Herman Melville
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My Mother's Gift

You visited me near dawn -

I saw you
and felt your joy
and heard your voice,
like a memory of waking to bird-song
on a warm, Ohio summer's morn -

you used to sing 'rise and shine! '
bringing me bleary-eyed, bounding
into my childhood's
glowing day.

And last night
I saw you again.

I love my dreams about you.
You sweep away
all fear
with your calm voice.

But always after,
when I wake up,
you are gone,
and I face another indifferent day
in this agnostic world.

But this time was different!
'You are glowing! ' I said
from the deep mist of my sleep,
'Why does your face shine?
Are you with him, with Dad?
Is that why you're so happy? '

You smiled (as at a naive child's prodding)
'Well, yes, of course he's here too...
but that's not it.

It is because He Is.'

And though I could not see
what you ceaselessly see,
I gazed upon the overwhelming,
reflected light
enfolding you,
and I tried,
oh I tried, to find its source
but could only feel
its sudden glory...
its unremitting,
warm embrace
of unconditional
love.

I did not want to wake...
I wanted to stay with you,
to die in the warmth
of this revelation,

but of course,
I returned to the morning
to the pale sun,
to the granite and steel world,
to the darkness of the mirror,
to life,

and yet,
your loving mother's gift
still remains
cadescent
in my soul's
deepest core.

poem by Steven Federle
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The Happy Child

I saw this day sweet flowers grow thick --
But not one like the child did pick.

I heard the packhounds in green park --
But no dog like the child heard bark.

I heard this day bird after bird --
But not one like the child has heard.

A hundred butterflies saw I --
But not one like the child saw fly.

I saw the horses roll in grass --
But no horse like the child saw pass.

My world this day has lovely been --
But not like what the child has seen.

poem by William Henry Davies
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Little Ray Of Sunshine

You’re the little ray of sunshine
when dark clouds cloud my mind,
that little ray of hope
when my mind is in despair.
When it gets unbearable,
you are always there
with a smile
to chase the gloom away.
You’re the little ray of sunshine
that awakens up my mind
from negative to positive
and makes my world fine.
You’re with me each day
come sunshine or rain
as a little ray of hope
to make things fine again.
That little ray of sunshine
every one of us needs.

3 August 2009

poem by David Harris
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The Watcher on the Tower

I
The Voice of a Man

WHAT of the Night, O Watcher?

The Voice of a Woman

Yea, what of it?

The Watcher

A star has risen; and a wind blows strong.

Voice of the Man

The Night is dark.

The Watcher

But God is there above it.

Voice of the Woman

The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.

II
Voice of the Man

What of the Night, O Watcher?

Voice of the Woman

Night of sorrow!

The Watcher

Out of the East there comes a sound, like song.

Voice of the Man

The Night is dark.

The Watcher

Have courage! There’s To-morrow!

Voice of the Woman

The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.

III
Voice of the Man

What of the Night, O Watcher?

Voice of the Woman

Is it other?

The Watcher

I see a gleam; a thorn of light; a thong.

Voice of the Man

The Night is dark.

The Watcher

The Morning comes, my Brother.

Voice of the Woman

The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.

IV
Voice of the Man

What now, what now, O Watcher?

The Watcher

Red as slaughter
The Darkness dies. The Light comes swift and strong.

Voice of the Man

The Night was long.—What sayest thou, my Daughter?

Voice of the Woman

The Night was dark; the Night was dark and long.

poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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You're The Captain

I'd crawl a mile,
I'd climb the highest hill.
To bring you back to
A life that's real
You burned your mind out,
With your foolish games
May you lie there helpless,
Will you ever be the same.
You're the captain,
The leader of your ship.
Don't get captured (captured),
Cause you just might never quit.
You're the captain,
I hope you realize,
Don't be a fool,
Better open up your eyes.
I've traveled this world,
I've seen most of it.
I've seen the best ones
Go down with the ship.
Fortune and fame,
They don't mean a thing.
When you're hooked on junk,
That's your only game.
You're the captain,
The leader of your ship.
Don't get captured (captured),
Cause you just might never quit.
You're the captain,
I hope you realize,
Don't be a fool,
Better open up your eyes.
Just a part of life,
That we all must go through.
Gettin' high with friends,
Was all in being cool.
Hope you never see, this misery.
A prisoner by drugs
With no right to be free.
You're the captain,
The leader of your ship.
Don't get captured (captured),
Cause you just might never quit.
You're the captain,
I hope you realize,
Don't be a fool,
Better open up your eyes.
You're the captain,
The leader of your ship.
Don't get captured (captured),
Cause you just might never quit.
You're the captain,
I hope you realize,
Don't be a fool,
Better open up your eyes.

song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rising

Rising
On the stream of music
When the dawn shines again new,
From the twilight
From the dark;
Coming through - the rays of light,
Sunshine - sunshine!

Sparkling glisten
Fire steams,
Growing light - beyond the dark;
Red and yellow
Sparkling sparkles,
Twisting shadows
To the deep!

Shades of tempers
Lights of amber,
Orange red and hot!
Flowing like the water
In the blood of fire!

Sparking glisten!
Sparking glisten!
Through the night
Of eternal space,
Through the haze
Of starry rays…

Morning comes and softens the night,
Morning gives the sparkling day.

Sunshine - sunshine!
Shades of tempers,
Sunshine - sunshine!
Beyond the night,
Sunshine - sunshine!
Traveler in dark!

Nirvana,
Haunt me not,
From your dwelling!

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Lady of Sunshine

Lady of Sunshine
You are now coming
Through the sky's red line
And breezing tunes strumming

I'm glad to see you here
With your hopes giving
And sunshine everywhere
In to new days living

Lady of Sunshine
You'll bring me new luck
Through the dark's brine
That got me here stuck

With flowers growing high
From under earth's snow
Opening the sapphire sky
For the coming morning glow

Lady of Sunshine
Through the air you bring
Touches from your flames shrine
For the spirits of spring

Every hope's coming through
And bringing their best
Forthcoming days to renew
And with your chance are blessed

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Clouds

Yellow, glowing
Softness, soothing
There...never a sound,

Somewhere between
A cloud and ground
Between lips and thought

Somewhere where there is nowhere
Somehow when we don't know-how
Somewhat of an afterthought

As silently as a whisper
From an owl
In the darkest reaches
Of loneliness hidden in the
Corners of sorrow, hide tiny tears.
Painful tears
Too small to see streaks
Upon those cheeks

The cloud is all fluff,
Vapor and dust
Come cloud my memories
Away

April 1,2002

poem by Midnights Voice
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Crying For No Tears

No one knows why I cry
But then again no one knows that I cry
I don't like to cry
So when everyone is away and it's dark, I cry

I cry in the dark because I can't in the light
I have to stay strong and represent strength and the light
Light that there is hope, and that there really is a light
So in the dark I cry and dry my tears, before comes the light

My tears are a mere reflection of my sorrow
How the past, the present, and maybe future are my sorrow
A lot of mistakes turned tears, are my sorrow
Friends, family, and situation, are my sorrow

None of these right now, I can change
But being strong is my change
And keeping others strong, is my change
Hoping that one day no more tears, will be my change

poem by Mr. Cheese
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Farewell

As we travel Life's weary journey,
And plod through the gathering years,
With our burdens of care and sorrow,
O'er a pathway bedewed with tears.
If, perchance, for a fleeting moment
Our hearts should with rapture swell,
We have added but one more sorrow,
When we bid the glad time "Farewell".

I have watched the bright dawn awaking,
And noted each changing light,
As the sun, in its morning splendour,
Dispelled the dark gloom of night.
I have welcomed its bright rays stealing
Over hill-top, and wood, and dell;
Yet, my joy was alloyed with sorrow,
As I bade the bright stars "Farewell".

I have seen the red sun descending
To its home in the glowing west,
Whilst the tremulous voice of nature
Was solemnly lulled to rest.
I have welcomed the stars, appearing,
And greeted them one by one,
Yet, my greeting was toned with sadness,
As I said "Farewell" to the sun.

When we welcome the summer sunshine,
Farewell to the flowers of Spring.
Adieu to the fruits of Autumn,
When we welcome the frosty king.
Good-bye to the joys of childhood,
When vigorous youth appears;
Then - a season of strife and turmoil,
And - farewell to the vanished years.

I am sighing a farewell message,
As I sit in the gathering gloom.
Farewell to all earthly sorrows,
Then - rest, in the silent tomb.
Farewell to the trees, and flowers,
To mountain, and stream, and dell,
Farewell to the glorious sunlight,
To the moon and stars, "Farewell"

poem by Thomas E. Spencer
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King Of The Mountain

Come on
Im gonna climb the mountain
Im gonna hit the top
I wanna go where nobodys ever been
Im never gonna stop
Im gonna reign, Im gonna shine
Im gonna beat the ground
Im gonna shoot through the night like a shot gun
Im gonna get on down, I wanna get on down
Im the king of the mountain, Im the king of the mountain
Listen, dont try to save my soul from destruction
Im never gonna fall
Dont try to give me a piece of the action
Im gonna take it all
All the kings horses, all the kings men
Were gettin crazy again and again
Make up your mind, its time we get goin
Were gonna get on down, were gonna get on down
Im the king of the mountain, Im the king of the mountain
Im the king of the mountain, Im the king of the mountain
Yeah, now
Oh, yeah, king of the mountain
Say it, king of the mountain
Im the king of the mountain, Im the king of the mountain, yeah
Im the king of the mountain
And the winner takes it all, lets go, lets go, lets go

song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rock In The Sea

Think of our blindness where the water burned!
Are we so certain that those wings, returned
And turning, we had half discerned
Before our dazzled eyes had surely seen
The bird aloft there, did not mean?—
Our hearts so seized upon the sign!

Think how we sailed up-wind, the brine
Tasting of daphne, the enormous wave
Thundering in the water cave—
Thunder in stone. And how we beached the skiff
And climbed the coral of that iron cliff
And found what only in our hearts we’d heard—
The silver screaming of that one, white bird:
The fabulous wings, the crimson beak
That opened, red as blood, to shriek
And clamor in that world of stone,
No voice to answer but its own.

What certainty, hidden in our hearts before,
Found in the bird its metaphor?

poem by Archibald MacLeish
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The Voice

One feather is a bird,
I claim; one tree, a wood;
In her low voice I heard
More than a mortal should;
And so I stood apart,
Hidden in my own heart.

And yet I roamed out where
Those notes went, like the bird,
Whose thin song hung in air,
Diminished, yet still heard:
I lived with open sound,
Aloft, and on the ground.

That ghost was my own choice,
The shy cerulean bird;
It sang with her true voice,
And it was I who heard
A slight voice reply;
I heard; and only I.

Desire exults the ear:
Bird, girl, and ghostly tree,
The earth, the solid air--
Their slow song sang in me;
The long noon pulsed away,
Like any summer day.

poem by Theodore Roethke
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The Mountain Sprite

In yonder valley there dwelt, alone,
A youth, whose moments had calmly flown,
'Till spells came o'er him, and, day and night,
He was haunted and watch'd by a Mountain Sprite.

As once, by moonlight, he wander'd o'er
The golden sands of that Island shore,
A foot-print sparkled before his sight --
'Twas the fairy foot of the Mountain Sprite!

Beside a fountain, one sunny day,
As bending over the stream he lay,
There peep'd down o'er him two eyes of light,
And he saw in that mirror the Mountain Sprite.

He turn'd, but, lo, like a startled bird,
That spirit fled! -- and the youth but heard
Sweet music, such as marks the flight
Of some bird of song, from the Mountain Sprite.

One night, still haunted by that bright look,
The boy, bewilder'd, his pencil took.
And, guided only by memory's light,
Drew the once-seen form of the Mountain Sprite.

"Oh thou, who lovest the shadow," cried
A voice, low whispering by his side,
"Now turn and see," -- here the youth's delight
Seal'd the rosy lips of the Mountain Sprite.

"Of all the Spirits of land and sea,"
Then rapt he murmur'd, "there's none like thee,
And oft, oh oft, may thy foot thus light
In this lonely bower, sweet Mountain Sprite!"

poem by Thomas Moore
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In a Museum

I

Here's the mould of a musical bird long passed from light,
Which over the earth before man came was winging;
There's a contralto voice I heard last night,
That lodges with me still in its sweet singing.

II

Such a dream is Time that the coo of this ancient bird
Has perished not, but is blent, or will be blending
Mid visionless wilds of space with the voice that I heard,
In the full-fuged song of the universe unending.

poem by Thomas Hardy
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A Girl’s Day Dream And Its Fulfilment

“Child of my love, why wearest thou
That pensive look and thoughtful brow?
Can’st gaze abroad on this world so fair
And yet thy glance be fraught with care?
Roses still bloom in glowing dyes,
Sunshine still fills our summer skies,
Earth is still lovely, nature glad—
Why dost thou look so lone and sad?”

“Ah! mother it once sufficed thy child
To cherish a bird or flow’ret wild;
To see the moonbeams the waters kiss,
Was enough to fill her heart with bliss;
Or o’er the bright woodland stream to bow,
But these things may not suffice her now.”

“Perhaps ’tis music thou seekest, child?
Then list the notes of the song birds wild,
The gentle voice of the mountain breeze,
Whispering among the dark pine trees,
The surge sublime of the sounding main,
Or thy own loved lute’s soft silvery strain.”

“Mother, there’s music sweeter I know
Than bird’s soft note or than ocean’s flow,
Vague to me yet as sounds of a dream,
Yet dearer, brighter than sunshine’s gleam;
Such is the music I fain would hear,
All other sounds but tire mine ear!”

“Ah! thou seekest then a loving heart,
That in all thy griefs will bear a part,
That shelter will give in doubt and fear,
Come to me, loved one, thou’lt find it here!”

“Sweet mother, I almost fear to speak,
And remorseful blushes dye my cheek,
For though thou’st watched me from childhood’s hour,
As thou would’st have done a precious flower,
Though I love thee still as I did of yore,
Yet this weak heart seeketh something more:

A bliss as yet to my life unknown,
A heart whose throbs will be all mine own,
The tender tones of a cherished voice,
Of him who shall be my heart’s first choice;
And who at my feet alone shall bow,
This, this is the dream that haunts me now.”

“Alas, poor child, has it come to this?
Then bid farewell to thy childhood’s bliss,
To thy girlhood’s bright unfettered hours,
Thy sunny revels ’mid birds and flowers;
Of the golden zone yield up each strand
To cling to a hope, unstable as sand,
And forget the joys thy youth hath wove
In the stormy doubts of human love,
The feverish hopes and wearing pain
That form the links of Love’s bright chain!”
Alas! the mother spoke in vain!

The girl’s dream was soon fulfilled,
Her hopes by no dark cloud were chilled;
A lover ardent, noble too,
With flashing eyes of jetty hue,
With voice like music, sweet and soft,
Such as her dreams had pictured oft,
Now at her feet, a suppliant bowed,
And love eternal, changeless vowed.

Listening, then, with glowing cheek,
And rapture which no words might speak,
She thought, with bright and joyous smile,
They erred who thus could love revile,
Or say it had many a dark alloy,—
Had it not proved a dream of joy?

But, alas for her! she learned too soon
That love is fleeting as rose of June,
That her eyes might shine with olden light,
And yet be found no longer bright;
That she might devoted, faithful prove,
Yet her lover grow weary of her love.
Many an hour of silent tears,
Of heart-sick doubts, of humbling fears,
Of angry regrets, were hers, before
Her heart would say, “He loves no more.”

Weary of life and its thorny ways,
She sought the friend of her early days:
“Mother, I bring thee a breaking heart,
In sorrows deep it hath borne a part;
Speak to me tenderly as of yore,
Let thy kiss rest on my brow once more;
To the joys of my girlhood back I flee,
To live alone for them and for thee!”

poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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Clocks.

(Emmylou Harris)
Old brown clock ticking on my shelf
Take my mind to someplace else
Little gold clock ticking by my bed
Funny little people dancing 'round my head
Morning brings me things to do
Morning brings me thoughts of you
Gentle sunshine through the curtain lace
Some of which shining on your sweet face
Counting hours making days
Watching time throwing love away
Nothing golden never stays
That's what I heard the poets say Mmm ...
Time is always taking me
Places I don't want to be
But when the morning rise the moon
I know a bird day's coming soon
Counting hours making days
Watching time throwing love away
Nothing golden never stays
That's what I heard the poets say Mmm ...
Morning brings me things to do
Morning brings me thoughts of you
Gentle sunshine through the curtain lace
Some of which shining on your sweet face

song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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