Multitudes Turn In Darkness
The half-shut doors through which we heard that music
Are softly closed. Horns mutter down to silence,
The stars wheel out, the night grows deep.
Darkness settles upon us; a Vague refrain
Drowsily teases at the drowsy brain.
In numberless rooms we stretch ourselves and sleep.
Where have we been ? What savage chaos of music
Whirls in our dreams? We suddenly rise in darkness,
Open our eyes, cry out, and sleep once more.
We dream we are numberless sea-waves, languidly foaming
A warm white moonlit shore;
Or clouds blown windily over a sky at midnight,
Or chords of music scattered in hurrying darkness,
Or a singing sound of rain
We open our eyes and stare at the coiling darkness,
And enter our dreams again.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 13: The half-shut doors through which we heard that music
The half-shut doors through which we heard that music
Are softly closed. Horns mutter down to silence.
The stars whirl out, the night grows deep.
Darkness settles upon us. A vague refrain
Drowsily teases at the drowsy brain.
In numberless rooms we stretch ourselves and sleep.
Where have we been? What savage chaos of music
Whirls in our dreams?—We suddenly rise in darkness,
Open our eyes, cry out, and sleep once more.
We dream we are numberless sea-waves languidly foaming
A warm white moonlit shore;
Or clouds blown windily over a sky at midnight,
Or chords of music scattered in hurrying darkness,
Or a singing sound of rain . . .
We open our eyes and stare at the coiling darkness,
And enter our dreams again.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Air I Breath...The Music I Hear...
You are the music, in the
symphony of life.
You are the music in the peace
solitude and stillness of the
early a.m., for you are the
song in my heart.
You are the music on an ocean's front,
for you are the roar of the waves,
the power of the sea,
and the salt in the air.
You are the music amidst a crowd
and the chorus of city sounds
.for that is my song,
and you are the music.
You are the music in my thoughts
of each new day, and the last image
I glimpse, as my eyes are
closed upon a feathered pillow.
You are the music, In that secret place
called sleep. I search for you through
all the songs of life. It is you that
I search for, through shades of darkness
and clouds of cotton.
When I think of you, the music is always and
forever. Every moment of my life. And, when
the final sleep does come and if there is music,
I shall think of you.
(dcbl) ..............You Are My Music
You are the music, in the
symphony of life.
You are the music in the peace
solitude and stillness of the
early a.m., for you are the
song in my heart.
You are the music on an ocean's front,
for you are the roar of the waves,
the power of the sea,
and the salt in the air.
You are the music amidst a crowd
and the chorus of city sounds
..for that is my song,
and you are the music.
You are the music in my thoughts
of each new day, and the last image
I glimpse, as my eyes are
closed upon a feathered pillow.
You are the music, In that secret place
called sleep. I search for you through
all the songs of life. It is you that
I search for, through shades of darkness
and clouds of cotton.
When I think of you, the music is always and
forever. Every moment of my life. And, when
the final sleep does come and if there is music,
I shall think of you.
You Are The Music Of Life...
You are the music, in the
symphony of life.
You are the music in the peace
solitude and stillness of the
early a.m., for you are the
song in my heart.
You are the music on an ocean's front,
for you are the roar of the waves,
the power of the sea,
and the salt in the air.
You are the music amidst a crowd
and the chorus of city sounds
..for that is my song,
and you are the music.
You are the music in my thoughts
of each new day, and the last image
I glimpse, as my eyes are
closed upon a feathered pillow.
You are the music, In that secret place
called sleep. I search for you through
all the songs of life. It is you that
I search for, through shades of darkness
and clouds of cotton.
When I think of you, the music is always and
forever. Every moment of my life. And, when
the final sleep does come and if there is music,
I shall think of you.
The Song...The Music...Is You
You are the music, in the
symphony of life.
You are the music in the peace
solitude and stillness of the
early a.m., for you are the
song in my heart.
You are the music on an ocean's front,
for you are the roar of the waves,
the power of the sea,
and the salt in the air.
You are the music amidst a crowd
and the chorus of city sounds
.for that is my song,
and you are the music.
You are the music in my thoughts
of each new day, and the last image
I glimpse, as my eyes are
closed upon a feathered pillow.
You are the music, In that secret place
called sleep. I search for you through
all the songs of life. It is you that
I search for, through shades of darkness
and clouds of cotton.
When I think of you, the music is always and
forever. Every moment of my life. And, when
the final sleep does come and if there is music,
I shall think of you.
You Are My Symphony Of Life...
You are the music, in the
symphony of life.
You are the music in the peace
solitude and stillness of the
early a.m., for you are the
song in my heart.
You are the music on an ocean's front,
for you are the roar of the waves,
the power of the sea,
and the salt in the air.
You are the music amidst a crowd
and the chorus of city sounds
.for that is my song,
and you are the music.
You are the music in my thoughts
of each new day, and the last image
I glimpse, as my eyes are
closed upon a feathered pillow.
You are the music, In that secret place
called sleep. I search for you through
all the songs of life. It is you that
I search for, through shades of darkness
and clouds of cotton.
When I think of you, the music is always and
forever. Every moment of my life. And, when
the final sleep does come and if there is music,
I shall think of you.
Let The Music Play On...
You are the music, in the
symphony of life.
You are the music in the peace
solitude and stillness of the
early a.m., for you are the
song in my heart.
You are the music on an ocean's front,
for you are the roar of the waves,
the power of the sea,
and the salt in the air.
You are the music amidst a crowd
and the chorus of city sounds
.for that is my song,
and you are the music.
You are the music in my thoughts
of each new day, and the last image
I glimpse, as my eyes are
closed upon a feathered pillow.
You are the music, In that secret place
called sleep. I search for you through
all the songs of life. It is you that
I search for, through shades of darkness
and clouds of cotton.
When I think of you, the music is always and
forever. Every moment of my life. And, when
the final sleep does come and if there is music,
I shall think of you.
Let The Music Play...
You are the music, in the
symphony of life.
You are the music in the peace
solitude and stillness of the
early a.m., for you are the
song in my heart.
You are the music on an ocean's front,
for you are the roar of the waves,
the power of the sea,
and the salt in the air.
You are the music amidst a crowd
and the chorus of city sounds
..for that is my song,
and you are the music.
You are the music in my thoughts
of each new day, and the last image
I glimpse, as my eyes are
closed upon a feathered pillow.
You are the music, In that secret place
called sleep. I search for you through
all the songs of life. It is you that
I search for, through shades of darkness
and clouds of cotton.
When I think of you, the music is always and
forever. Every moment of my life. And, when
the final sleep does come and if there is music,
I shall think of you.
You Are My Music...
You are the music, in the
symphony of life.
You are the music in the peace
solitude and stillness of the
early a.m., for you are the
song in my heart.
You are the music on an ocean's front,
for you are the roar of the waves,
the power of the sea,
and the salt in the air.
You are the music amidst a crowd
and the chorus of city sounds
.for that is my song,
and you are the music.
You are the music in my thoughts
of each new day, and the last image
I glimpse, as my eyes are
closed upon a feathered pillow.
You are the music, In that secret place
called sleep. I search for you through
all the songs of life. It is you that
I search for, through shades of darkness
and clouds of cotton.
When I think of you, the music is always and
forever. Every moment of my life. And, when
the final sleep does come and if there is music,
I shall think of you.
You Are My Music
You are the music, in the
symphony of life.
You are the music in the peace
solitude and stillness of the
early a.m., for you are the
song in my heart.
You are the music on an ocean's front,
for you are the roar of the waves,
the power of the sea,
and the salt in the air.
You are the music amidst a crowd
and the chorus of city sounds
..for that is my song,
and you are the music.
You are the music in my thoughts
of each new day, and the last image
I glimpse, as my eyes are
closed upon a feathered pillow.
You are the music, In that secret place
called sleep. I search for you through
all the songs of life. It is you that
I search for, through shades of darkness
and clouds of cotton.
When I think of you, the music is always and
forever. Every moment of my life. And, when
the final sleep does come and if there is music,
I shall think of you.
You Are My Music
You are the music, in the
symphony of life.
You are the music in the peace
solitude and stillness of the
early a.m., for you are the
song in my heart.
You are the music on an ocean's front,
for you are the roar of the waves,
the power of the sea,
and the salt in the air.
You are the music amidst a crowd
and the chorus of city sounds
..for that is my song,
and you are the music.
You are the music in my thoughts
of each new day, and the last image
I glimpse, as my eyes are
closed upon a feathered pillow.
You are the music, In that secret place
called sleep. I search for you through
all the songs of life. It is you that
I search for, through shades of darkness
and clouds of cotton.
When I think of you, the music is always and
forever. Every moment of my life. And, when
the final sleep does come and if there is music,
I shall think of you.
poem by Waldon Pond Productions
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonata
The grave is empty.
Darkness, half lit by the blurred moon,
Chilled by the sea, the fog waiting,
The enthralled stars, nearly lost,
Searching for another earth,
The dark soil waiting for the seed.
Chaos-night.
The memory of a fireplace,
Warmth with music
Undulating arias
Like small birds falling into darkness.
Cold rain
Driving against my window.
Muffled music and dreams of water,
And another grave.
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hope
an angel a bridge
of heart
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
a light
of humanity tree
Darkness Of...
Darkness is not the darkness of night
it is the darkness of mind and soul.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of discrimination between poor and rich.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of dishonesty.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of aggravate.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is darkness of corruption.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of indiscipline.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of animosity.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of inveterate.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of perjury.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness that we all brought up inside us,
so, light the lamp of light inside you...
poem by Suniya Garg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ballade Of The Dream
Swift as sound of music fled
When no more the organ sighs,
Sped as all old days are sped,
So your lips, love, and your eyes,
So your gentle-voiced replies
Mine one hour in sleep that seem,
Rise and flit when slumber flies,
Following darkness like a dream!
Like the scent from roses red,
Like the dawn from golden skies,
Like the semblance of the dead
From the living love that hies,
Like the shifting shade that lies
On the moonlight-silvered stream,
So you rise when dreams arise,
Following darkness like a dream!
Could some spell, or sung or said,
Could some kindly witch and wise,
Lull for aye this dreaming head
In a mist of memories,
I would lie like him who lies
Where the lights on Latmos gleam, -
Wake not, find not Paradise
Following darkness like a dream!
ENVOY.
Sleep, that giv'st what Life denies,
Shadowy bounties and supreme,
Bring the dearest face that flies
Following darkness like a dream!
poem by Andrew Lang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Prelude
As evening falls,
And the yellow lights leap one by one
Along high walls
And along black streets that glisten as if with rain,
The muted city seems
Like one in a restless sleep who lies and dreams
Of vague desires, vague memories, and half-forgotten pain
Along dark veins like lights the quick dreams run,
Flash, are extinguished, flash again,
To mingle and glow at last in the enormous brain
And die away
As evening falls,
A dream dissolves these insubstantial walls,
A myriad secretly gliding lights lie bare.
The lover rises, the harlot combs her hair,
The dead man's face grows blue in the dizzy lamplight,
The watchman climbs the stair
The bank-defaulter leers at a chaos of figures
And runs among them and is beaten down ;
The sick man coughs, and hears the chisels ringing;
The tired clown
Sees the enormous crowd—a million faces
Motionless in their places,
Ready to laugh, and seize, and crush, and tear ....
The dancer smooths her hair,
Laces her golden slippers and runs through the door
To dance once more,
Hearing swift music like an enchantment rise,
Feeling the praise of a thousand eyes.
As darkness falls,
The walls grow luminous and warm, the walls
Tremble and glow with the lives within them moving,
Moving like music, secret and rich and warm.
How shall we live tonight, where shall we turn?
To what new light or darkness yearn ?
A thousand winding stairs lead down before us;
And one by one in myriads we descend
By lamp-lit flowered walls, long balustrades,
Through half-lit halls which reach no end.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem That Comes From Hearing The Poem Of Another
The poem that comes from hearing the poem of another
And tries to ride on its rhythm
Like the sea on its own waves-
A forced music finding nowhere in itself a music of its own
Because all the poems are melodies made light by more light
As all the poems are dreams made dreamlike by more dreaming-
And we in our poetic fervor hearing that lyric sound
Go round and round again and again
As if we were the music of the stars
When the universe empirically spherical –
But now in this more deeply instrumented time,
When what we see with our eyes is always less than what we measure
Time and Time again tells us that Space and Space again tell us
That all we are in this long distance darkness
Is one small point of light which in its own sad way will fade out before its music endures-
For the stars have only our imagined music
and not more than the light
of their own violent dying –
So here having heard the poem of another
And open to my own inner voice,
I cry and cry again for another sky and another music
That only God Who is Beyond these earthly hapless sounds
Can Dream and Feel and Know
In the Lyric Ending that justifies our home.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The End
It is time for me to go, mother; I am going.
When in the paling darkness of the lonely dawn you stretch out
your arms for your baby in the bed, I shall say, "Baby is not
here!"-mother, I am going.
I shall become a delicate draught of air and caress you and
I shall be ripples in the water when you bathe, and kiss you and
kiss you again.
In the gusty night when the rain patters on the leaves you
will hear my whisper in your bed, and my laughter will flash with
the lightning through the open window into your room.
If you lie awake, thinking of your baby till late into the
night, I shall sing to you from the stars, "Sleep, mother, sleep."
One the straying moonbeams I shall steal over your bed, and
lie upon your bosom while you sleep.
I shall become a dream, and through the little opening of your
eyelids I shall slip into the depths of your sleep; and when you
wake up and look round startled, like a twinkling firefly I shall
flit out into the darkness.
When, on the great festival of puja, the neighbours' children
come and play about the house, I shall melt into the music of the
flute and throb in your heart all day.
Dear auntie will come with puja-presents and will ask,"Where
is our baby, sister?" Mother, you will tell her softly, "He is in
the pupils of my eyes, he is in my body and in my soul."
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The House Of Dust: Part 03: 01: As evening falls
As evening falls,
And the yellow lights leap one by one
Along high walls;
And along black streets that glisten as if with rain,
The muted city seems
Like one in a restless sleep, who lies and dreams
Of vague desires, and memories, and half-forgotten pain . . .
Along dark veins, like lights the quick dreams run,
Flash, are extinguished, flash again,
To mingle and glow at last in the enormous brain
And die away . . .
As evening falls,
A dream dissolves these insubstantial walls,—
A myriad secretly gliding lights lie bare . . .
The lovers rise, the harlot combs her hair,
The dead man's face grows blue in the dizzy lamplight,
The watchman climbs the stair . . .
The bank defaulter leers at a chaos of figures,
And runs among them, and is beaten down;
The sick man coughs and hears the chisels ringing;
The tired clown
Sees the enormous crowd, a million faces,
Motionless in their places,
Ready to laugh, and seize, and crush and tear . . .
The dancer smooths her hair,
Laces her golden slippers, and runs through the door
To dance once more,
Hearing swift music like an enchantment rise,
Feeling the praise of a thousand eyes.
As darkness falls
The walls grow luminous and warm, the walls
Tremble and glow with the lives within them moving,
Moving like music, secret and rich and warm.
How shall we live tonight? Where shall we turn?
To what new light or darkness yearn?
A thousand winding stairs lead down before us;
And one by one in myriads we descend
By lamplit flowered walls, long balustrades,
Through half-lit halls which reach no end.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The House Of Dust: Part 04: 05: The Bitter Love-Song
No, I shall not say why it is that I love you—
Why do you ask me, save for vanity?
Surely you would not have me, like a mirror,
Say 'yes,—your hair curls darkly back from the temples,
Your mouth has a humorous, tremulous, half-shy sweetness,
Your eyes are April grey. . . .with jonquils in them?'
No, if I tell at all, I shall tell in silence . . .
I'll say—my childhood broke through chords of music
—Or were they chords of sun?—wherein fell shadows,
Or silences; I rose through seas of sunlight;
Or sometimes found a darkness stooped above me
With wings of death, and a face of cold clear beauty. .
I lay in the warm sweet grass on a blue May morning,
My chin in a dandelion, my hands in clover,
And drowsed there like a bee. . . .blue days behind me
Stretched like a chain of deep blue pools of magic,
Enchanted, silent, timeless. . . .days before me
Murmured of blue-sea mornings, noons of gold,
Green evenings streaked with lilac, bee-starred nights.
Confused soft clouds of music fled above me.
Sharp shafts of music dazzled my eyes and pierced me.
I ran and turned and spun and danced in the sunlight,
Shrank, sometimes, from the freezing silence of beauty,
Or crept once more to the warm white cave of sleep.
No, I shall not say 'this is why I praise you—
Because you say such wise things, or such foolish. . .'
You would not have me say what you know better?
Let me instead be silent, only saying—:
My childhood lives in me—or half-lives, rather—
And, if I close my eyes cool chords of music
Flow up to me . . . long chords of wind and sunlight. . . .
Shadows of intricate vines on sunlit walls,
Deep bells beating, with aeons of blue between them,
Grass blades leagues apart with worlds between them,
Walls rushing up to heaven with stars upon them. . .
I lay in my bed and through the tall night window
Saw the green lightning plunging among the clouds,
And heard the harsh rain storm at the panes and roof. . . .
How should I know—how should I now remember—
What half-dreamed great wings curved and sang above me?
What wings like swords? What eyes with the dread night in them?
This I shall say.—I lay by the hot white sand-dunes. .
Small yellow flowers, sapless and squat and spiny,
Stared at the sky. And silently there above us
Day after day, beyond our dreams and knowledge,
Presences swept, and over us streamed their shadows,
Swift and blue, or dark. . . .What did they mean?
What sinister threat of power? What hint of beauty?
Prelude to what gigantic music, or subtle?
Only I know these things leaned over me,
Brooded upon me, paused, went flowing softly,
Glided and passed. I loved, I desired, I hated,
I struggled, I yielded and loved, was warmed to blossom . . .
You, when your eyes have evening sunlight in them,
Set these dunes before me, these salt bright flowers,
These presences. . . .I drowse, they stream above me,
I struggle, I yield and love, I am warmed to dream.
You are the window (if I could tell I'd tell you)
Through which I see a clear far world of sunlight.
You are the silence (if you could hear you'd hear me)
In which I remember a thin still whisper of singing.
It is not you I laugh for, you I touch!
My hands, that touch you, suddenly touch white cobwebs,
Coldly silvered, heavily silvered with dewdrops;
And clover, heavy with rain; and cold green grass. . .
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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