They Desire A Better Country
I
I would not if I could undo my past,
Tho' for its sake my future is a blank;
My past, for which I have myself to thank,
For all its faults and follies first and last.
I would not cast anew the lot once cast,
Or launch a second ship for one that sank,
Or drug with sweets the bitterness I drank,
Or break by feasting my perpetual fast.
I would not if I could: for much more dear
Is one remembrance than a hundred joys,
More than a thousand hopes in jubilee;
Dearer the music of one tearful voice
That unforgotten calls and calls to me,
'Follow me here, rise up, and follow here.'
II
What seekest thou far in the unknown land?
In hope I follow joy gone on before,
In hope and fear persistent more and more,
As the dry desert lengthens out its sand.
Whilst day and night I carry in my hand
The golden key to ope the golden door
Of golden home; yet mine eye weepeth sore
For the long journey that must make no stand.
And who is this that veiled doth walk with thee?
Lo, this is Love that walketh at my right;
One exile holds us both, and we are bound
To selfsame home-joys in the land of light.
Weeping thou walkest with him; weepeth he?—
Some sobbing weep, some weep and make no sound.
III
A dimness of a glory glimmers here
Thro' veils and distance from the space remote,
A faintest far vibration of a note
Reaches to us and seems to bring us near,
Causing our face to glow with braver cheer,
Making the serried mist to stand afloat,
Subduing langour with an antidote,
And strengthening love almost to cast out fear,
Till for one moment golden city walls
Rise looming on us, golden walls of home,
Light of our eyes until the darkness falls;
Then thro' the outer darkness burdensome
I hear again the tender voice that calls,
'Follow me hither, follow, rise, and come.'
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Related quotes
I Will Follow
Yonder mountain so high
I cant make it all on my own, no
Rolling river why so wide?
To sweep me up and to bear me on
Up against the sky so bright
That I cant even close my eyes
I know I will follow (follow love)
Yes, yes, I will follow (follow love)
I will follow (follow love)
Follow love
Growing slowly like a tree
Someday soon, darling I love you
I love you
Soft and gentle, full summer moon
Set my soul free
Thank you, baby
Drifting like a cloud in the sky
I can see myself from high above
I know I must follow (follow love)
Somehow I will follow (follow love)
I must follow (follow love)
Follow love
Oh, half the future and half the past
Theyre waiting inside your eyes
Yes, and after all of this
To last and last
Till at last its your time to rise, rise
True believer that I am
I am blind, lead me on (lead me on)
Blessed receiver of your love
I own my own time
And Ive been holding on (holding on)
Leave the word unspoken
And the spell will not be broken
And Im bound to follow, now (follow love)
I know I must go (follow love)
I must follow (follow love)
Yes, I must follow (follow love)
Someone to hold my hand (follow love)
Somebody to lead me on(follow love)
Somebody to walk beside me (follow love)
Someone to follow me now (follow love)
I must follow love (follow love)
I will fall in love
I will follow love (follow love)
Anywhere it leads me
I will follow love (follow love)
Follow love
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Two Rivers
Slowly the hour-hand of the clock moves round;
So slowly that no human eye hath power
To see it move! Slowly in shine or shower
The painted ship above it, homeward bound,
Sails, but seems motionless, as if aground;
Yet both arrive at last; and in his tower
The slumberous watchman wakes and strikes the hour,
A mellow, measured, melancholy sound.
Midnight! the outpost of advancing day!
The frontier town and citadel of night!
The watershed of Time, from which the streams
Of Yesterday and To-morrow take their way,
One to the land of promise and of light,
One to the land of darkness and of dreams!
II.
O River of Yesterday, with current swift
Through chasms descending, and soon lost to sight,
I do not care to follow in their flight
The faded leaves, that on thy bosom drift!
O River of To-morrow, I uplift
Mine eyes, and thee I follow, as the night
Wanes into morning, and the dawning light
Broadens, and all the shadows fade and shift!
I follow, follow, where thy waters run
Through unfrequented, unfamiliar fields,
Fragrant with flowers and musical with song;
Still follow, follow; sure to meet the sun,
And confident, that what the future yields
Will be the right, unless myself be wrong.
III.
Yet not in vain, O River of Yesterday,
Through chasms of darkness to the deep descending,
I heard thee sobbing in the rain, and blending
Thy voice with other voices far away.
I called to thee, and yet thou wouldst not stay,
But turbulent, and with thyself contending,
And torrent-like thy force on pebbles spending,
Thou wouldst not listen to a poet's lay.
Thoughts, like a loud and sudden rush of wings,
Regrets and recollections of things past,
With hints and prophecies of things to be,
And inspirations, which, could they be things,
And stay with us, and we could hold them fast,
Were our good angels,--these I owe to thee.
IV.
And thou, O River of To-morrow, flowing
Between thy narrow adamantine walls,
But beautiful, and white with waterfalls,
And wreaths of mist, like hands the pathway showing;
I hear the trumpets of the morning blowing,
I hear thy mighty voice, that calls and calls,
And see, as Ossian saw in Morven's halls,
Mysterious phantoms, coming, beckoning, going!
It is the mystery of the unknown
That fascinates us; we are children still,
Wayward and wistful; with one hand we cling
To the familiar things we call our own,
And with the other, resolute of will,
Grope in the dark for what the day will bring.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Jesus Calls Us
Jesus calls us; o'er the tumult
of our life's wild, restless sea,
day by day his clear voice soundeth,
saying, 'Christian, follow me;'
as, of old, Saint Andrew heart it
by the Galilean lake,
turned from home and toil and kindred,
leaving all for his dear sake.
Jesus calls us from the worship
of the vain world's golden store;
from each idol that would keep us,
saying, 'Christian, love me more.'
In our joys and in our sorrows,
days of toil and hours of ease,
still he calls, in cares and pleasures,
'Christian, love me more than these.'
Jesus calls us! By thy mercies,
Savior, may we hear thy call,
give our hearts to thine obedience,
serve and love thee best of all.
poem by Cecil Frances Alexander
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Despised And Rejected
My sun has set, I dwell
In darkness as a dead man out of sight;
And none remains, not one, that I should tell
To him mine evil plight
This bitter night.
I will make fast my door
That hollow friends may trouble me no more.
'Friend, open to Me.'—Who is this that calls?
Nay, I am deaf as are my walls:
Cease crying, for I will not hear
Thy cry of hope or fear.
Others were dear,
Others forsook me: what art thou indeed
That I should heed
Thy lamentable need?
Hungry should feed,
Or stranger lodge thee here?
'Friend, My Feet bleed.
Open thy door to Me and comfort Me.'
I will not open, trouble me no more.
Go on thy way footsore,
I will not rise and open unto thee.
'Then is it nothing to thee? Open, see
Who stands to plead with thee.
Open, lest I should pass thee by, and thou
One day entreat My Face
And howl for grace,
And I be deaf as thou art now.
Open to Me.'
Then I cried out upon him: Cease,
Leave me in peace:
Fear not that I should crave
Aught thou mayst have.
Leave me in peace, yea trouble me no more,
Lest I arise and chase thee from my door.
What, shall I not be let
Alone, that thou dost vex me yet?
But all night long that voice spake urgently:
'Open to Me.'
Still harping in mine ears:
'Rise, let Me in.'
Pleading with tears:
'Open to Me that I may come to thee.'
While the dew dropped, while the dark hours were cold:
'My Feet bleed, see My Face,
See My Hands bleed that bring thee grace,
My Heart doth bleed for thee,
Open to Me.'
So till the break of day:
Then died away
That voice, in silence as of sorrow;
Then footsteps echoing like a sigh
Passed me by,
Lingering footsteps slow to pass.
On the morrow
I saw upon the grass
Each footprint marked in blood, and on my door
The mark of blood for evermore.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Voice
Too soon a voice calls out to us
and we hear it sorrowfully.
The words we hear we have heard before.
They echo eternity.
The voice sings praises to our soul
and soothes our troubled mind.
And as we reckon with what's to come
we feel a voice so kind.
We cross the space from here to there
and leave mortality.
Even though our mind has been troubled
we'll miss the sky and sea.
For what we've experienced while on earth
no matter bad or good.
will leave with us as memories
that follow us as they should.
The voice we hear is so familiar
that we recognize at last
it's the voice from everyone we've been
that defines all of our past.
So when the voice calls out with love
cast aside all fear.
Remember your loves. Remember your life
and all that you held dear.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Im Gonna Walk Dem Golden Stairs
(words & music by cully holt)
Im gonna walk, walk dem golden stairs
cause I know my jesus answers all my prayers
Well, well I know when he calls me to my home on high
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die, when I die
Oh lord you know I can hardly wait
To reach that suite by and by by by
And now I see those per, per, pearly gate
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die, when I die
Well, well, well
Im gonna walk, walk dem golden stairs
cause I know my jesus answers all my prayers
Well, well I know when he calls me to my home on high
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die, when I die
When jesus says to me well done
And all my cares are laid by
Ill lay down my soul, my battles are won
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die when I die
Well, well, well
Im gonna walk, walk dem golden stairs
cause I know my jesus answers all my prayers
Well, well I know when he calls me to my home on high
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die, when I die
Well, well
Im gonna walk, walk dem golden stairs
cause I know my jesus answers all my prayers
Well, well I know when he calls me to my home on high
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die, when I die
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Follow The Wind
I give, cause every road was tough
I give, cause I cant find love
So I live, its where I was
But in my darkness
You were there to light my way
Ill follow
Follow the winds into tomorrow
I trust where it leads me
And I know, that Ill blow home
I give, cause I tried and failed
I give, to choose someone else
No one lives here
Its what I tell my self
But like a compass you were there to point the way
Ill follow
Follow the winds into tomorrow
I trust where it leads me
And I know, that Ill blow home
Now that Ive come to know your love for me
No reason to look any further
Now that the sun has come and set me free
I will stand and take your hand
Ill follow (Ill follow)
Follow the winds into tomorrow (tomorrow)
I trust where it leads me
And I know, that Ill blow
Ill follow (Ill follow)
Follow the winds into tomorrow (tomorrow)
I trust where it leads me
And I know, that Ill blow home
(Ill follow)
Follow the wind into tomorrow
(tomorrow)
I trust where it leads me
And I know that Ill blow home
Ooh blow home
song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Cold in the Earth
When cold in the earth lies the friend thou hast loved,
Be his faults and his follies forgot by thee then;
Or, if from their slumber the veil be removed,
Weep o'er them in silence, and close it again.
And oh! if 'tis pain to remember how far
From the pathways of light he was tempted to roam,
Be it bliss to remember that thou wert the star
That arose on his darkness, and guided him home.
From thee and thy innocent beauty first came
The revealings, that taught him true love to adore,
To feel the bright presence, and turn him with shame
From the idols he blindly had knelt to before.
O'er the waves of a life, long benighted and wild,
Thou camest, like a soft golden calm o'er the sea;
And if happiness purely and glowingly smiled
On his evening horizon, the light was from thee.
And though sometimes the shades of past folly might rise,
And though falsehood again would allure him to stray,
He but turn'd to the glory that dwelt in those eyes,
And the folly, the falsehood, soon vanish'd away.
As the Priests of the Sun, when their altar grew dim,
At the day-beam alone could its lustre repair,
So, if virtue a moment grew languid in him,
He but flew to that smile and rekindled it there.
poem by Thomas Moore
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The Frontier-Land
YOU of the past, are you present?
Draw nearer! my heart is sore.
Was yours the fall of the foot in the hall?
Was yours the face at the door?
As I lifted my eyes I saw you;
You vanished, and all was still;
And only outside the white owl cried,
And the moon stared over the hill.
Wan-blue were your eyes, O Shadow,
And paler your aspect than seems
The mystical star, that glimmers afar
In a land of mysterious dreams.
O Shadow, the past is present,
And empty your coffin and tomb;
Draw near, draw near, chill child of fear,
From the frontier-land of Gloom!
Did you know that I loved you, Shadow?
Did you guess whence the violets came?
And the delicate heart with its Cupid dart,
All opal and ruby-flame?
Ah, once brown-gold were the lashes
That shadowed your dreaming eyes,
And your teeth were pearl 'neath the coral curl
Of twin portals of Paradise.
And warmer your cheeks were and softer
(Alas, they are pale and cold!)
Than the rose of the East, or the wine of the feast
Red-rimming its carven gold.
It was all so sad, O Shadow,
And you faded away so soon,
Like a note that flies, and fades, and dies
Ere it grows to a golden tune.
Gone! utterly gone, O Shadow;
No whisper, no word let fall;
No light is shed, and the moon is dead,
And a chill creeps up the hall.
I shall follow and follow you, Shadow,
Till the sun, remote and red,
Burns like a spark, and dim and dark
Rise up the hosts of the dead.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Where Forlorn Sunsets Flare And Fade
Where forlorn sunsets flare and fade
On desolate sea and lonely sand,
Out of the silence and the shade
What is the voice of strange command
Calling you still, as friend calls friend
With love that cannot brook delay
To rise and follow the ways that wend
Over the hills and far away?
Hark in the city, street on street
A roaring reach of death and life,
Of vortices that clash and fleet
And ruin in appointed strife,
Hark to it calling, calling clear,
Calling until you cannot stay
From dearer things than your own most dear
Over the hills and far away?
Out of the sound of the ebb-and-flow,
Out of the sight of the lamp and star,
It calls you where the good winds blow,
And the unchanging meadows are;
From faded hopes and hopes agleam,
It calls you, calls you night and day
Beyond the dark into the dream
Over the hills and far away.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Over the Hills and Far Away
Where forlorn sunsets flare and fade
On desolate sea and lonely sand,
Out of the silence and the shade
What is the voice of strange command
Calling you still, as friend calls friend
With love that cannot brook delay,
To rise and follow the ways that wend
Over the hills and far away?
Hark in the city, street on street
A roaring reach of death and life,
Of vortices that clash and fleet
And ruin in appointed strife,
Hark to it calling, calling clear,
Calling until you cannot stay
From dearer things than your own most dear
Over the hills and far away.
Out of the sound of the ebb-and-flow,
Out of the sight of lamp and star,
It calls you where the good winds blow,
And the unchanging meadows are;
From faded hopes and hopes agleam,
It calls you, calls you night and day
Beyond the dark into the dream
Over the hills and far away.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Hesperus
Through the starry hollow
Of the summer night
I would follow, follow
Hesperus the bright,
To seek beyond the western wave
His garden of delight.
Hesperus the fairest
Of all gods that are,
Peace and dreams thou bearest
In thy shadowy car,
And often in my evening walks
I’ve blessed thee from afar.
Stars without number,
Dust the noon of night,
Thou the early slumber
And the still delight
Of the gentle twilit hours
Rulest in thy right.
When the pale skies shiver,
Seeing night is done,
Past the ocean-river,
Lightly thou dost run,
To look for pleasant, sleepy lands,
That never fear the sun.
Where, beyond the waters
Of the outer sea,
Thy triple crown of daughters
That guards the golden tree
Sing out across the lonely tide
A welcome home to thee.
And while the old, old dragon
For joy lifts up his head,
They bring thee forth a flagon
Of nectar foaming red,
And underneath the drowsy trees
Of poppies strew thy bed.
Ah! that I could follow
In thy footsteps bright,
Through the starry hollow
Of the summer night,
Sloping down the western ways
To find my heart’s delight!
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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Golden Streets Of Glory
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
Theres a city where the streets are paved in gold
A land where the milk and the honey flow
And a mansion which for me
cause my Bible tells the story
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Green meadows where the little children play
No sorrow there, just one long happy day
And none will litter there except the pure and the holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
And when Ive reached my journeys end
And if Im worthy to go in
Golden streets of glory, I walk on
And the golden streets of my new home
Will lead me up to the masters throne
With the angel band Ill sing
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Hallelujah, I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
And when Ive reached my journeys end
And if Im worthy to go in
Golden streets of glory, Ill walk on
And the golden streets of my new home
Will lead me up to the masters throne
With the angel band Ill sing
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Hallelujah, I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Follow Thy Fair Sun
1 Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow;
2 Though thou be black as night,
3 And she made all of light,
4 Yet follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow.
5 Follow her, whose light thy light depriveth;
6 Though here thou liv'st disgrac'd,
7 And she in heaven is plac'd,
8 Yet follow her whose light the world reviveth.
9 Follow those pure beams, whose beauty burneth;
10 That so have scorched thee,
11 As thou still black must be,
12 Till her kind beams thy black to brightness turneth.
13 Follow her, while yet her glory shineth;
14 There comes a luckless night
15 That will dim all her light;
16 And this the black unhappy shade divineth.
17 Follow still, since so thy fates ordained;
18 The sun must have his shade,
19 Till both at once do fade,
20 The sun still proud, the shadow still disdained.
poem by Thomas Campion
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Follow Thy Fair Sun
Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow;
Though thou be black as night,
And she made all of light,
Yet follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow.
Follow her, whose light thy light depriveth;
Though here thou liv'st disgrac'd,
And she in heaven is plac'd,
Yet follow her whose light the world reviveth.
Follow those pure beams, whose beauty burneth;
That so have scorched thee,
As thou still black must be,
Till her kind beams thy black to brightness turneth.
Follow her, while yet her glory shineth;
There comes a luckless night
That will dim all her light;
And this the black unhappy shade divineth.
Follow still, since so thy fates ordained;
The sun must have his shade,
Till both at once do fade,
The sun still proud, the shadow still disdained.
poem by Thomas Campion
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The Clock's Clear Voice Into The Clearer Air
THE cock's clear voice into the clearer air
Where westward far I roam,
Mounts with a thrill of hope,
Falls with a sigh of home.
A rural sentry, he from farm and field
The coming morn descries,
And, mankind's bugler, wakes
The camp of enterprise.
He sings the morn upon the westward hills
Strange and remote and wild;
He sings it in the land
Where once I was a child.
He brings to me dear voices of the past,
The old land and the years:
My father calls for me,
My weeping spirit hears.
Fife, fife, into the golden air, O bird,
And sing the morning in;
For the old days are past
And new days begin.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Land, Ho!
I know ’tis but a loom of land,
Yet is it land, and so I will rejoice,
I know I cannot hear His voice
Upon the shore, nor see Him stand;
Yet is it land, ho! land.
The land! the land! the lovely land!
‘Far off,’ dost say? Far off—ah, blessèd home!
Farewell! farewell! thou salt sea-foam!
Ah, keel upon the silver sand—
Land, ho! land.
You cannot see the land, my land,
You cannot see, and yet the land is there—
My land, my land, through murky air—
I did not say ’twas close at hand—
But—land, ho! land.
Dost hear the bells of my sweet land,
Dost hear the kine, dost hear the merry birds?
No voice, ’tis true, no spoken words,
No tongue that thou may’st understand—
Yet is it land, ho! land.
It’s clad in purple mist, my land,
In regal robe it is apparellèd,
A crown is set upon its head,
And on its breast a golden band—
Land, ho! land.
Dost wonder that I long for land?
My land is not a land as others are—
Upon its crest there beams a star,
And lilies grow upon the strand—
Land, ho! land.
Give me the helm! there is the land!
Ha! lusty mariners, she takes the breeze!
And what my spirit sees it sees—
Leap, bark, as leaps the thunderbrand—
Land, ho! land.
poem by Thomas Edward Brown
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Gold
We rovers bold,
To the land of Gold,
Over the bowling billows are gliding:
Eager to toil,
For the golden spoil,
And every hardship biding.
See! See!
Before our prows' resistless dashes
The gold-fish fly in golden flashes!
'Neath a sun of gold,
We rovers bold,
On the golden land are gaining;
And every night,
We steer aright,
By golden stars unwaning!
All fires burn a golden glare:
No locks so bright as golden hair!
All orange groves have golden gushings;
All mornings dawn with golden flushings!
In a shower of gold, say fables old,
A maiden was won by the god of gold!
In golden goblets wine is beaming:
On golden couches kings are dreaming!
The Golden Rule dries many tears!
The Golden Number rules the spheres!
Gold, gold it is, that sways the nations:
Gold! gold! the center of all rotations!
On golden axles worlds are turning:
With phosphorescence seas are burning!
All fire-flies flame with golden gleamings!
Gold-hunters' hearts with golden dreamings!
With golden arrows kings are slain:
With gold we'll buy a freeman's name!
In toilsome trades, for scanty earnings,
At home we've slaved, with stifled yearnings:
No light! no hope! Oh, heavy woe!
When nights fled fast, and days dragged slow.
But joyful now, with eager eye,
Fast to the Promised Land we fly:
Where in deep mines,
The treasure shines;
Or down in beds of golden streams,
The gold-flakes glance in golden gleams!
How we long to sift,
That yellow drift!
Rivers! Rivers! cease your goings!
Sand-bars! rise, and stay the tide!
'Till we've gained the golden flowing;
And in the golden haven ride!
poem by Herman Melville
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Darest Thou Now, O Soul
DAREST thou now, O Soul,
Walk out with me toward the Unknown Region,
Where neither ground is for the feet, nor any path to follow?
No map, there, nor guide,
Nor voice sounding, nor touch of human hand,
Nor face with blooming flesh, nor lips, nor eyes, are in that land.
I know it not, O Soul;
Nor dost thou--all is a blank before us;
All waits, undream'd of, in that region--that inaccessible land.
Till, when the ties loosen, 10
All but the ties eternal, Time and Space,
Nor darkness, gravitation, sense, nor any bounds, bound us.
Then we burst forth--we float,
In Time and Space, O Soul--prepared for them;
Equal, equipt at last--(O joy! O fruit of all!) them to fulfil, O
Soul.
poem by Walt Whitman
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To Perilla
Ah, my Perilla, dost thou grieve to see
Me day by day to steal away from thee?
Age calls me hence, and my grey hairs bid come,
And haste away to mine eternal home.
'Twill not be long, Perilla, after this,
That I must give thee the supremest kiss.
Dead when I am, first cast in salt, and bring
Part of the cream from that religious spring,
With which, Perilla, wash my hands and feet.
That done, then wind me in that very sheet
Which wrapped thy smooth limbs when thou didst implore
The gods' protection but the night before.
Follow me weeping to my turf, and there
Let fall a primrose, and with it a tear;
Then, lastly, let some weekly-strewings be
Devoted to the memory of me:
Then shall my ghost not walk about, but keep
Still in the cool and silent shades of sleep.
poem by Robert Herrick
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