My Childhood's Home
I HAVE tasted each varied pleasure,
And drunk of the cup of delight;
I have danced to the gayest measure
In the halls of dazzling light.
I have dwelt in a blaze of splendour,
And stood in the courts of kings;
I have snatched at each toy that could render
More rapid the flight of Time's wings.
But vainly I've sought for joy or peace,
In that life of light and shade;
And I turn with a sigh to my own dear home-
The home where my childhood played!
When jewels are sparkling round me,
And dazzling with their rays,
I weep for the ties that bound me
In life's first early days.
I sigh for one of the sunny hours
Ere day was turned to-night;
For one of my nosegays of fresh wild flowers,
Instead of those jewels bright.
I weep when I gaze on the scentless buds
Which never can bloom or fade;
And I turn with a sigh to those gay green fields-
The home where my childhood played.
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Related quotes
The Days When We Were Young
Sister! Sister! don't you remember
The days when we were young?
The long, long days, with a light and a shade
Like the pearls of a necklace strung,
Like the pearls of a necklace strung?
They are gone, with all our yesterdays --
We seek their like in vain;
But we will shed no tears for them
While the bright todays remain,
While the bright todays remain.
Sister! Sister! don't you remember
The days when we were young?
The homely house in the fat, far away,
Where the love of our childhood clung,
Where the love of our childhood clung?
There is naught to mark that sacred spot,
Save now the beaten loam;
Yet distant altars have we rear'd
In the bless-ed name of home,
In the bless-ed name of home.
Sister! Sister! don't you remember
The days when we were young?
The mates of childhood -- the friend of our youth --
We companion'd and lov'd among,
We companion'd and lov'd among?
Some are wand'ring far, and some in death
Have closed their weary eyes;
But we rejoice in new found friends,
While we weep for broken ties,
While we weep for broken ties.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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My Old Kentucky Home, Good Night!
1 The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home,
2 'Tis summer, the darkies are gay,
3 The corn top's ripe and the meadow's in the bloom
4 While the birds make music all the day.
5 The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
6 All merry, all happy and bright:
7 By'n by Hard Times comes a knocking at the door,
8 Then my old Kentucky Home, good night!
9 [Chorus] Weep no more, my lady, oh! weep no more to-day!
10 We will sing one song
11 For the old Kentucky Home,
12 For the old Kentucky Home, far away.
13 [Solo] They hunt no more for the possum and the coon
14 On the meadow, the hill and the shore,
15 They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
16 On the bench by the old cabin door.
17 The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,
18 With sorrow where all was delight:
19 The time has come when the darkies have to part,
20 Then my old Kentucky Home, good-night!
21 [Chorus] Weep no more, my lady, oh! weep no more to-day!
22 We will sing one song
23 For the old Kentucky Home,
24 For the old Kentucky Home, far away.
25 [Solo] The head must bow and the back will have to bend,
26 Wherever the darkey may go:
27 A few more days, and the trouble all will end
28 In the field where the sugar-canes grow.
29 A few more days for to tote the weary load,
30 No matter 'twill never be light,
31 A few more days till we totter on the road,
32 Then my old Kentucky Home, good-night!
33 [Chorus] Weep no more, my lady, oh! weep no more to-day!
34 We will sing one song
35 For the old Kentucky Home,
36 For the old Kentucky Home, far away.
poem by Stephen C. Foster
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Solitude
Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow it's mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.
Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Heart Of Joy
DEAR, do you sigh that your love may not stay with you,
Laugh with and play with you,
Weep with and pray with you,
All his life through?
Think, O my heart, if you never had found me,
Crept through the cere-clothes the world has wound round me,
What would you do?
Wide is the world, and so many would sigh for you,
Long for and cry for you,
Weep for and die for you,
You being you.
I only I, am the man you could sigh for,
Live for and suffer for, sorrow and die for,
Twenty lives through.
Think! Had I missed you! The world was so wide for us,
Traps on each side for us,
Nothing as guide for us,
Yet I and you
Found Life's great treasure, the last and the first, love;
Life's little things, Time and Space, do their worst, love!
What, after all, can they do?
poem by Edith Nesbit
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To Laura (Mystery Of Reminiscence)
Who and what gave to me the wish to woo thee--
Still, lip to lip, to cling for aye unto thee?
Who made thy glances to my soul the link--
Who bade me burn thy very breath to drink--
My life in thine to sink?
As from the conqueror's unresisted glaive,
Flies, without strife subdued, the ready slave--
So, when to life's unguarded fort, I see
Thy gaze draw near and near triumphantly--
Yields not my soul to thee?
Why from its lord doth thus my soul depart?--
Is it because its native home thou art?
Or were they brothers in the days of yore,
Twin-bound both souls, and in the link they bore
Sigh to be bound once more?
Were once our beings blent and intertwining,
And therefore still my heart for thine is pining?
Knew we the light of some extinguished sun--
The joys remote of some bright realm undone,
Where once our souls were ONE?
Yes, it is so!--And thou wert bound to me
In the long-vanish'd Eld eternally!
In the dark troubled tablets which enroll
The Past--my Muse beheld this blessed scroll--
"One with thy love my soul!"
Oh yes, I learned in awe, when gazing there,
How once one bright inseparate life we were,
How once, one glorious essence as a God,
Unmeasured space our chainless footsteps trod--
All Nature our abode!
Round us, in waters of delight, forever
Voluptuous flowed the heavenly Nectar river;
We were the master of the seal of things,
And where the sunshine bathed Truth's mountain-springs
Quivered our glancing wings.
Weep for the godlike life we lost afar--
Weep!--thou and I its scattered fragments are;
And still the unconquered yearning we retain--
Sigh to restore the rapture and the reign,
And grow divine again.
And therefore came to me the wish to woo thee--
Still, lip to lip, to cling for aye unto thee;
This made thy glances to my soul the link--
This made me burn thy very breath to drink--
My life in thine to sink;
And therefore, as before the conqueror's glaive,
Flies, without strife subdued, the ready slave,
So, when to life's unguarded fort, I see
Thy gaze draw near and near triumphantly--
Yieldeth my soul to thee!
Therefore my soul doth from its lord depart,
Because, beloved, its native home thou art;
Because the twins recall the links they bore,
And soul with soul, in the sweet kiss of yore,
Meets and unites once more!
Thou, too--Ah, there thy gaze upon me dwells,
And thy young blush the tender answer tells;
Yes! with the dear relation still we thrill,
Both lives--though exiles from the homeward hill--
One life--all glowing still!
poem by Friedrich Schiller
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Sonnet: On seeing Miss Helen Maria Williams weep at a tale of distress
She wept.--Life's purple tide began to flow
In languid streams through every thrilling vein;
Dim were my swimming eyes--my pulse beat slow,
And my full heart was swell'd to dear delicious pain.
Life left my loaded heart, and closing eye;
A sigh recall'd the wanderer to my breast;
Dear was the pause of life, and dear the sigh
That call'd the wanderer home, and home to rest.
That tear proclaims--in thee each virtue dwells,
And bright will shine in misery's midnight hour;
As the soft star of dewy evening tells
What radiant fires were drown'd by day's malignant pow'r,
That only wait the darkness of the night
To cheer the wand'ring wretch with hospitable light.
poem by William Wordsworth
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The Firefly's Fascination
On the flight of the moon to aflame the night,
A firefly's looking up to the light he much adored,
Seem a light of a firefly that he's longing for.
Her brilliant dancing fire,
The endless flashes of light,
Her dazzling face he desire
It was so bright,
so bright.
All he did by night was to look above
He never let his light fade just awhile,
He hopes to be noticed by her love,
Just see his light, then shine and smile.
The luminous rays of the skies,
The beautiful stars at night,
Her shining diamond eyes
It was so bright,
so bright.
Nights and more nights had passed,
All he did by night was to look above
The firefly's light was fading too fast
When he see the truth about his love
The dazzling light did shine no more
The brilliant fire slowly died by night
The luminous sky sings its last roar
The dying light,
fading light.
On the shine of the sun to aflame the day,
A firefly's looking down to shed his tears
when he learned that the one he love
Was nothing but far away star.
poem by Raymond Cabrera
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Wild Times
Wild times, until the light has gone
Wild, until the rising sun
Let us hear the sigh,
Of all the days gone buy
Wild times
Shine the light, down through the years
Through the fields of yonder, the veil off tears
And well take the time,
That is yours and mine
Wild times
Wild times, into the dawn
These wild times, will not be gone
And the music plays,
To these golden days
Wild times
You can here the sigh,
Of all the days gone by
Wild times
And well take the time,
That is yours and mine
Wild times
Wild times
Wild times
Wild times
Wild times
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song: Tis Not the Beam
'Tis not the beam of her bright blue eye,
Nor the smile of her lip of rosy dye,
Nor the dark brown wreaths of her glossy hair,
Nor her changing cheek, so rich and rare.
Oh! these are the sweets of a fairy dream,
The changing hues of an April sky.
They fade like dew in the morning beam,
Or the passing zephyr's odour'd sigh.
'Tis a dearer spell that bids me kneel,
'Tis the heart to love, and the soul to feel:
'Tis the mind of light, and the spirit free,
And the bosom that heaves alone for me.
Oh! these are the sweets that kindly stay
From youth's gay morning to age's night;
When beauty's rainbow tints decay,
Love's torch still burns with a holy light.
Soon will the bloom of the fairest fade,
And love will droop in the cheerless shade,
Or if tears should fall on his wing of joy,
It will hasten the flight of the laughing boy.
But oh! the light of the constant soul
Nor time can darken nor sorrow dim;
Though woe may weep in life's mingled bowl,
Love still shall hover around its brim.
poem by Joseph Rodman Drake
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Sappho
I sigh at day-dawn, and I sigh
When the dull day is passing by.
I sigh at evening, and again
I sigh when night brings sleep to men.
Oh! it were far better to die
Than thus forever mourn and sigh,
And in death's dreamless sleep to be
Unconscious that none weep for me;
Eased from my weight of heaviness,
Forgetful of forgetfulness,
Resting from care and pain and sorrow
Thro' the long night that knows no morrow;
Living unloved, to die unknown,
Unwept, untended, and alone.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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I'm A Small And Lonely Light
The stairs are dark and silent
The morning cold and gray
A last look at the things I knew
And slowly turn away
And as I watch the scenery unwind
My childhood slips a hundred miles behind
Leave the bus in Houston
Walk around the town
But all the strange, unfriendly faces
Seem to get me down
And in the park where little children play
I sit and watch the dying of the day
I'm a small and lonely light
A bird that's lost in flight
And it's too late at night to go home
I'm a tall and weary kite
A face that's out of sight
And it's too late at night to go home
Always had the good life
Never felt unsure
But now the good life's not enough
There must be something more
And so I sit and shiver in the dawn
And watch the world and wait to be reborn
I'm a small and lonely light
A bird that's lost in flight
And it's too late at night to go home
I'm a tall and weary kite
A face that's out of sight
And it's too late at night to go home
Too late at night to go home
But I've talked too long my friend
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Long Years Have Past Since Last I Stood
LONG years have past since last I stood
Alone amid this mountain scene,
Unlike the future which I dreamed,
How like my future it has been!
A cold grey sky o'erhung with clouds,
With showers in every passing shade,
How like the moral atmosphere
Whose gloom my horoscope has made!
I thought if yet my weary feet
Could rove my native hills again,
A world of feeling would revive,
Sweet feelings wasted, worn in vain.
My early hopes, my early joys,
I dreamed those valleys would restore;
I asked for childhood to return,
For childhood, which returns no more.
Surely the scene itself is changed!
There did not always rest as now
That shadow in the valley's depth,
That gloom upon the mountain-brow.
Wild flowers within the chasms dwelt
Like treasures in stone fairy hold,
And morning o'er the mountains shed
Her kindling world of vapoury gold.
Another season of the year
Is now upon the earth and me;
Another spring will light these hills—
No other spring mine own may be:
I must retune my unstrung harp,
I must awake the sleeping tomb,
I must recall the loved and lost,
Ere spring again for me could bloom.
I've wandered, but it was in vain,
In many a far and foreign clime,
Absence is not forgetfulness,
And distance cannot vanquish time.
One face was ever in my sight,
One voice was ever on my ear,
From all earth's loveliness I turned
To wish, Ah that the dead were here!
Oh! weary wandering to no home,
Oh! weary wandering alone,
I turned to childhood's once glad scenes
And found life's last illusion flown.
Ah! those who left their childhood's scenes
For after-years of toil and pain,
Who but bring back the breaking heart
Should never seek those scenes again.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Sweet Sister
Sweet sister, if you knew, like me,
The charms of guileless infancy,
No more you'd envy riper years,
Or smiles, more bitter than your tears.
But childhood passes in an hour,
As perfume from a faded flower;
The joyous voice of early glee
Flies, like the Halcyon, o'er the sea.
Enjoy your morn of early Spring;
Soon time maturer thoughts must bring;
Those hours, like flowers that interclimb,
Should not be withered ere their time.
Too soon you'll weep, as we do now,
O'er faithless friend, or broken vow,
And hopeless sorrows, which our pride
In pleasure's whirl would vainly hide.
Laugh on! unconscious of thy doom,
All innocence and opening bloom;
Laugh on! while yet thine azure eye
Mirrors the peace that reigns on high.
poem by Victor Hugo
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Weep No More
Mary, don't you weep no more
Mary, don't you weep no more
'Cuz, I got your letter today
Pack my bags and I'm on my way
So, don't you weep no more
Don't you weep no more
Dry your eyes
Don't you shed no tears
The sun is risin'
So, put away your fears
Cuz, I know I once done you wrong
I want to say I'm sorry
And I'm comin' back home
So, don't you weep no more
Don' t you weep no more
I hear your voice in the wind
And I feel your tears in the rain
Shadows of night are falling
Can't you hear me call your name
I'm comin' home
I'm comin' home
So, don't you weep
Don't you weep
Don't you weep
Don't you weep no more
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dying Child
Mother, I'm tired, and I would fain be sleeping;
Let me repose upon thy bosom sick;
But promise me that thou wilt leave off weeping,
Because thy tears fall hot upon my cheek.
Here it is cold: the tempest raveth madly;
But in my dreams all is so wondrous bright;
I see the angel-children smiling gladly,
When from my weary eyes I shut out light.
Mother, one stands beside me now! and, listen!
Dost thou not hear the music's sweet accord?
See how his white wings beautifully glisten?
Surely those wings were given him by the Lord!
Green, gold, and red, are floating all around me;
They are the flowers the angel scattereth.
Should I have also wings while life has bound me?
Or, mother, are they given alone in death?
Why dost thou clasp me as if I were going?
Why dost thou press thy cheek so unto mine?
Thy cheek is hot, and yet thy tears are flowing!
I will, dear mother, will be always thine!
Do not sigh thus - it marreth my reposing;
But if thou weep, then I must weep with thee!
Ah, I am tired - my weary eyes are closing -
Look, mother, look! the angel kisseth me!
poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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Two Souls In Communion
What are they seeing, when they look in each other's eyes?
What are they feeling, when they see each other smile?
Is it love, I don't know - or an emotion that I've outgrown?
Did I take a wrong turn - in on life's winding road?
Won't somebody help me find the right way to go?
My life need some correction, alteration and direction.
Wont somebody stand by me - yes, I'm lost, yes, I'm lost, yes, I'm lost.
What is the secret of this time of mine?
Two souls in communion, both body and mind.
Is it special magic, or just the nature of things?
Come see the great spirit, not for beggars but for kings.
You who have found it please help me along.
I'm a man, I'm a man, - I'm not made out of stone.
My needs they are simple, I don't want anything,
but I surely want to fly on those wings, on the run, one more time.
All I wanna do, fly up, fly home.
Fly on those wings of love, fly up, fly home,
I'm a staying in your town, fly up, fly home,
Help me somebody please! Fly up, fly home.
I wake up early in the morning, fly up, fly home,
you know I never saw you babe, fly up, fly home.
I just can't seem to understand,
can't seem to understand what's wrong, fly up, fly home.
What I wanna do is take a little ride with you, on the wings of love,
woh-oh one more time, one more time
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wreath Of Forest Flowers
In a fair and sunny forest glade
O’erarched with chesnuts old,
Through which the radiant sunbeams made
A network of bright gold,
A girl smiled softly to herself,
And dreamed the hours away;
Lulled by the sound of the murmuring brook
With the summer winds at play.
Jewels gleamed not in the tresses fair
That fell in shining showers,
Naught decked that brow of beauty rare
But a wreath of forest flowers;
And the violet wore no deeper blue
Than her own soft downcast eye,
Whilst her bright cheek with the rose’s hue
In loveliness well might vie.
But she was too fair to bloom unknown
By forest or valley side,
And long ere two sunny years had flown,
The girl was a wealthy bride—
Removed to so high and proud a sphere
That she well at times might deem
The humble home of her childhood dear
A fleeting, changeful dream.
No more her foot sought the grassy glade
At the break of summer day;
No more neath the chesnut spreading shade
In reverie sweet she lay;
But in abodes of wealth and pride,
With serious, stately mien,
That envy’s rancorous tongue defied,
She now alone was seen.
But was she happier? Who might know?
Wealth, fortune, on her smiled;
Yet there were some who whispered low
That she, fates favored child,
Oft pressed her brow with a weary hand,
In gay and festive hours,
And fain would change her jewell’d band
For a wreath of forest flowers.
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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On Some Rose Leaves Brought From The Vale Of Cashmere
Faded and pale their beauty, vanished their early bloom,
Their folded leaves emit alone a sweet though faint perfume,
But, oh! than brightest bud or flower to me are they more dear,
They come from that rose-haunted land, the bright Vale of Cashmere.
Cashmere! a spell is in that name! what dreams its sound awakes
Of roses sweet as Eden’s flowers, of minarets and lakes,
Of scenes as vaguely, strangely bright as those of fairy land,
Springing to life and loveliness ’neath some enchanter’s wand!
Cashmere! poetic in its name, its clear and brilliant skies
That seem to clothe earth, flower and wave in their own lovely dyes;
Poetic in its legend lore, and spell more dear than all,
Enshrined in poet’s inmost heart, the home of “Nourmahal.”
Yes, there oft fell her fairy feet, there shone the glances bright,
That won for her the glorious name of harem’s queen and light;
There, as she wandered ’mid its bowers, her royal love beside,
She taught him to forget all else save her, his beauteous, bride.
Cashmere! what would this heart not give to see thy favored earth,
So rich in nature’s peerless gifts, in beauty’s dazzling worth,
Rich in a name that in mine ear from childhood’s hour hath rung,
The land of which impassioned Moore with such sweet power hath sung.
Yet, were I there, oh! well I know the time would surely come
When my yearning heart would turn again to my far Canadian home,
Longing to look once more upon its wintry wastes of snow,
And the friends whose hearts throb like mine own, with friendship’s changeless glow.
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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Im A Small & Lonely Light
(farrar/best)
The stairs are dark and silent
The morning cold and gray
A last look at the things I knew
And slowly turn away
And as I watch the scenery unwind
My childhood slips a hundred miles behind
Leave the bus in houston
Walk around the town
But all the strange, unfriendly faces
Seem to get me down
And in the park where little children play
I sit and watch the dying of the day
Im a small and lonely light
A bird thats lost in flight
And its too late at night to go home
Im a tall and weary kite
A face thats out of sight
And its too late at night to go home
Always had the good life
Never felt unsure
But now the good lifes not enough
There must be something more
And so I sit and shiver in the dawn
And watch the world and wait to be reborn
Im a small and lonely light
A bird thats lost in flight
And its too late at night to go home
Im a tall and weary kite
A face thats out of sight
And its too late at night to go home
Too late at night to go home
But Ive talked too long my friend
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Evening Song
WHEN all the weary flowers,
Worn out with sunlit hours,
Droop o'er the garden beds
Their little sleepy heads,
The dewy dusk on quiet wings comes stealing;
And, as the night descends,
The shadows troop like friends
To bring them healing.
So, weary of the light
Of life too full and bright,
We long for night to fall
To wrap us from it all;
Then death on dewy wings draws near and holds us,
And like a kind friend come
To children far from home,
With love enfolds us.
But when the night is done,
Fresh to the morning sun,
Their little faces yet
With night's sweet dewdrops wet,
The flowers awake to the new day's new graces;
And we, ah! shall we too
Turn to the daydawn new
Our tear-wet faces?
poem by Edith Nesbit
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