Angelic Proportions
I perceived this morn, this very morn
A child of angelic proportions born,
He cries for he hath had no warning
That he would never live to see the dawn.
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
When A Child Is Born
A ray of hope flitters in the sky
A shiny star lights up way up high
All across the land dawns a brand new morn
This comes to pass when a child is born
A silent wish sails the seven seas
The winds have changed whisperin the trees
And the walls of doubt crumble tossed and torn
This comes to pass when a child is born
A rosy fume settles all around
Youve got the feel youre on solid ground
For a spell or two no-one seems forlorn
This comes to pass when a child is born
(spoken)
And all of this happened
Because whe world is waiting
Waiting for one child
Black, white, yellow, no one knows
But a child that would grow up and turn tears to laughter
Hate to love, war to peace
And everyone to everyones neighbour
Misery and suffering would be forgotten forever
Its all a dream and illusion now
It must come true, sometimes soon somehow
All across the land dawns a brand new morn
This comes to pass when a child is born
All across the land dawns a brand new morn
This comes to pass when a child is born
When a child is born
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When A Child Is Born
A ray of hope flickers in the sky
A tiny spark lights up way up high
All across the land dawns a brand new morn
This comes to pass when a child is born
A silent wish sails the seven seas
The winds of change whisper in the trees
And the walls of doubt crumble, tossed and torn
This comes to pass when a child is born
A rosy hue settles all around
You've got the feel you're on solid ground
For a spell or two, no one seems forlorn
This comes to pass when a child is born
It's all a dream, an illusion now
It must come true, sometime soon, somehow
All across the land dawns a brand new morn
This comes to pass when a child is born.
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When A Child Is Born
A ray of hope flickers in the sky
A tiny star lights up way up high
All across the land dawns a brand new morn'
This comes to pass
When a child is born
A silent wish sails the seven seas
The winds of change whisper in the trees
And the walls of doubt crumble, tossed and torn
This comes to pass
When a child is born
A rosey hue settles all around
You got the feel, you're on solid ground
For a spell or two no-one seems forlorn
This comes to pass
When a child is born
And all of this happens because the world is waiting
Waiting for one child, black, white, yellow - no one knows
But a child that will grow up and turn tears to laughter
Hate to love, war to peace and everyone to everyone's neighbour
And misery and suffering will be words to be forgotten, forever
It's all a dream, an illusion now
It must come true sometime soon somehow
All across the land dawns a brand new morn'
This comes to pass
When a child is born
This comes to pass
When - a child - is bor-or-orn...
Is bor-or-orn...
Is born...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song Composed For Washington's Birthday
A hundred years and more ago
A little child was born --
To-day, with pomp of martial show,
We hail his natal morn.
Who guessed as that poor infant wept
Upon a woman's knee,
A nation from the centuries stept
As weak and frail as he?
Who saw the future on his brow
Upon that happy morn?
We are a mighty nation now
Because that child was born.
To him, and to his spirit's scope,
Besides a glorious home,
We owe that what we have and hope
Are more than Greece and Rome.
poem by Henry Timrod
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas Hymn
Sing, Christmas bells!
Say to the earth this is the morn
Whereon our Saviour-King is born;
Sing to all men,-the bond, the free,
The rich, the poor, the high, the low,
The little child that sports in glee,
The aged folk that tottering go,-
Proclaim the morn
That Christ is born,
That saveth them and saveth me!
Sing, angel host!
Sing of the star that God has placed
Above the manger in the east;
Sing of the glories of the night,
The virgin's sweet humility,
The Babe with kingly robes bedight,
Sing to all men where'er they be
This Christmas morn;
For Christ is born,
That saveth them and saveth me!
Sing, sons of earth!
O ransomed seed of Adam, sing!
God liveth, and we have a king!
The curse is gone, the bond are free,-
By Bethlehem's star that brightly beamed,
By all the heavenly signs that be,
We know that Israel is redeemed;
That on this morn
The Christ is born
That saveth you and saveth me!
Sing, O my heart!
Sing thou in rapture this dear morn
Whereon the blessed Prince is born!
And as thy songs shall be of love,
So let my deeds be charity,-
By the dear Lord that reigns above,
By Him that died upon the tree,
By this fair morn
Whereon is born
The Christ that saveth all and me!
poem by Eugene Field
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A Christmas Carol
Welcome, sweet Christmas, blest be the morn
That Christ our Saviour was born!
Earth's Redeemer, to save us from all danger,
And, as the Holy Record tells, born in a manger.
Chorus --
Then ring, ring, Christmas bells,
Till your sweet music o'er the kingdom swells,
To warn the people to respect the morn
That Christ their Saviour was born.
The snow was on the ground when Christ was born,
And the Virgin Mary His mother felt very forlorn
As she lay in a horse's stall at a roadside inn,
Till Christ our Saviour was born to free us from sin.
Oh! think of the Virgin Mary as she lay
In a lowly stable on a bed of hay,
And angels watching O'er her till Christ was born,
Therefore all the people should respect Christmas morn.
The way to respect Christmas time
Is not by drinking whisky or wine,
But to sing praises to God on Christmas morn,
The time that Jesus Christ His Son was born;
Whom He sent into the world to save sinners from hell
And by believing in Him in heaven we'll dwell;
Then blest be the morn that Christ was born,
Who can save us from hell, death, and scorn.
Then he warned, and respect the Saviour dear,
And treat with less respect the New Year,
And respect always the blessed morn
That Christ our Saviour was born.
For each new morn to the Christian is dear,
As well as the morn of the New Year,
And he thanks God for the light of each new morn.
Especially the morn that Christ was born.
Therefore, good people, be warned in time,
And on Christmas morn don't get drunk with wine
But praise God above on Christmas morn,
Who sent His Son to save us from hell and scorn.
There the heavenly babe He lay
In a stall among a lot of hay,
While the Angel Host by Bethlehem
Sang a beautiful and heavenly anthem.
Christmas time ought to be held most dear,
Much more so than the New Year,
Because that's the time that Christ was born,
Therefore respect Christmas morn.
And let the rich be kind to the poor,
And think of the hardships they do endure,
Who are neither clothed nor fed,
And Many without a blanket to their bed.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn's Song
.
.
a cardinal sings this autumn morn
the chill refreshes
as a new day is born
the colors golden, and green
so peaceful, and serene
a cardinal sings this autumn morn
voices rip
a quiet now torn
footsteps slide in a pattern
smiles appear
glances of wonder clear
as a cardinal disappears
just like a breeze
a cardinal sang this autumn morn
a melody unheard before
ignored by many
cherished by me
it’s meomory forever more
as flickers of red touch the sky
i ponder the question why
a cardinal sings this autumn morn
.
Whom the World Calls Idle
He is brother-born to the wind. Its song, in his heart implanted,
Stirs and wakes when the morning breaks and the wide horizon burns;
He is brother-born to the sea, and visions of isles enchanted
Slowly rise to his dreaming eyes from the furrow his labor turns.
Child of fate, be it soon or late that his heart he learns to know,
Not his to say if he roam or stay when the summons bids him go:
Brother-born to the wind of morn, he must share its endless quest
Who once hath heard the sovereign word of the gods of Great Unrest!
The stretch of the open road, the challenge of heights unmounted,
The distant cry of the beasts that lie at the mouth of some latent lair,
The sweep of the pathless plain and the speeding of miles uncounted,
When the rangers ride, with a star for guide, in the face of the battling air—
These are his whose fortune is, like the tireless tide’s, to roam,
Brother-born to the wind of morn, with the whole wide world for home:
Child of the soil, he must turn from toil to the dim and dreamt-of West,
Who once hath heard the sovereign word of the gods of Great Unrest!
Song of the stately pines to the winds of northward high lands,
Song of the palms across the calms that sleep on the long lagoon,
Glamour of breathless dawns on the shores of southward islands,
And the mystical light that tells the night of the birth of the tardy moon:
These—at the gate of his future fate, where the earthly questings end
And the shadows fall—he hath learned to call by the sacred name of friend;
These, in the strife of his hapless life, he hath learned to love the best
Who once hath heard the sovereign word of the gods of Great Unrest!
Then shall it be for us, who have dreamed no dream Elysian,
To cry the ban of our fellow-man who brings no grist to mill?
’T is the verve of his viking sires that awakes the plough-boy’s vision,
And the rover roil in the child of toil is the roil of the rover still!
What is it all, this thrill and thrall, that hath mapped his earthly plan,
Unless some gain we may not explain in the onward march of man?
Brother-born to the wind of morn, may his lot be not the best
Who once hath heard the sovereign word of the gods of Great Unrest?
poem by Guy Wetmore Carryl from The Garden of Years and Other Poems (1899)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Child's Last Sleep
Thou sleepest but when wilt thou wake, fair child?
When the fawn awakes in the forest wild?
When the lark's wing mounts with the breeze of morn?
When the first rich breath of the rose is born?
Lovely thou sleepest, yet something lies
Too deep and still on thy soft-seal'd eyes,
Mournful, tho' sweet, is thy rest to see
When will the hour of thy rising be?
Not when the fawn wakes, not when the lark
On the crimson cloud of the morn floats dark
Grief with vain passionate tears hath wet
The hair, shedding gleams from thy pale brow yet;
Love with sad kisses, unfelt, hath press'd
Thy meek dropt eyelids and quiet breast;
And the glad spring, calling out bird and bee,
Shall colour all blossoms, fair child! but thee.
Thou'rt gone from us, bright one! that thou shouldst die,
And life be left to the butterfly!
Thou'rt gone, as a dew-drop is swept from the bough
Oh! for the world where thy home is now!
How may we love but in doubt and fear,
How may we anchor our fond hearts here;
How should e'en joy but a trembler be,
Beautiful dust! when we look on thee?
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Child
I love you
Because in you
I see a child
Innocent, unspent, unviled!
Pure as fountain
Tall as mountain
Clean but wild,
Whom I love to say
‘my child’.
My child
You are born
Every morn
In me!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Always
always sing your love to me softly
sweetly turn the pages on our ways
in the night i was born
lived a new summer morn
always, sing your love come to me
'cause i was destined to be
always rue the day that i loved you
sweetness came on down from above you
in the night i was born
lived a new summer morn
always, sing your love come to me
'cause i was destined to be
no control
in your arms
letting go
i hope you cope with me tonight
in the night i was born
lived a new summer morn
always, sing your love come to me
'cause i was destined to be
song performed by by Weezer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Morning
The angel host that sped last night,
Bearing the wondrous news afar,
Came in their ever-glorious flight
Unto a slumbering little star.
'Awake and sing, O star!' they cried.
'Awake and glorify the morn!
Herald the tidings far and wide--
He that shall lead His flock is born!'
The little star awoke and sung
As only stars in rapture may,
And presently where church bells hung
The joyous tidings found their way.
'Awake, O bells! 't is Christmas morn--
Awake and let thy music tell
To all mankind that now is born
What Shepherd loves His lambkins well!'
Then rang the bells as fled the night
O'er dreaming land and drowsing deep,
And coming with the morning light,
They called, my child, to you asleep.
Sweetly and tenderly they spoke,
And lingering round your little bed,
Their music pleaded till you woke,
And this is what their music said:
'Awake and sing! 'tis Christmas morn,
Whereon all earth salutes her King!
In Bethlehem is the Shepherd born.
Awake, O little lamb, and sing!'
So, dear my child, kneel at my feet,
And with those voices from above
Share thou this holy time with me,
The universal hymn of love.
poem by Eugene Field
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A Child Is Sweet Any Day Of The Week
A child that's born on a Monday
holds beauty in sight and mind.
A child that's born on a Tuesday
is graceful, sweet and kind.
A child that's born on a Wednesday
is a treasure, so they say.
A child that 's born on a Thursday
sees a quest with each new day.
A child that's born on a Friday
is loving and freely gives.
A child that's born on a Saturday
shows great work through how they live.
A child that's born on a Sunday
is happy, carefree and gay.
I guess you could say that a child is
special, no matter what the day.
poem by Christine K. Trease
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ghosts Of Cape Horn
All around old cape horn
Ships of the line, ships of the morn
Some who wish theyd never been born
They are the ghosts of cape horn
Fal deral da riddle de rum
With a rim dim diddy
And a rum dum dum
Sailing away at the break of morn
They are the ghosts of cape horn
See them all in sad repair
Demons dance everywhere
Southern gales, tattered sails
And none to tell the tales
Come all of you rustic old sea dogs
Who follow the great southern cross
You were rounding the horn
In the eye of a storm
When ya lost er one day
And you read all yer letters
From oceans away
Then you took them to the bottom of the sea
All around old cape horn
Ships of the line, ships of the morn
Those who wish theyd never been born
They are the ghosts of cape horn
Fal deral da riddle de rum
With a rim dim diddy
And a rum dum dum
Sailing away at the break of morn
They are the ghosts of cape horn
Come all you old sea dogs from devon
Southampton, penzance, and kinsale
You were caught by the chance
Of a sailors last dance
It was not meant to be
And ya read all yer letters
Cried anchor aweigh
Then ya took them to the bottom of the sea
All around old cape horn
Ships of the line, ships of the morn
Those who wish theyd never been born
They are the ghosts of cape horn
Fal deral da riddle de rum
With a rim dim diddy
And a rum dum dum
Sailing away at the break of morn
They are the ghosts of cape horn
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baby Jesus Is Born
Tell the children of abraham
Theres a star over bethlehem
And the light in the manger
Come a christmas morn
When baby jesus is born
Angel came to mary
Said, Im tellin? you
The light of this world
Is shinin? inside of you
His sweet forgiveness
Gonna set men free
The lame will walk
And the blind will see
Tell the children of abraham
Theres a star over bethlehem
And the light in the manger
Come a christmas morn
When baby jesus is born
Wise men following a holy light
Shepherds heard singing
In the midnight sky
And they all came a runnin?
Through the stable door
The meek and the mighty
The rich and the poor
Tell the children of abraham
Theres a star over bethlehem
And the light in the manger
Come a christmas morn
When baby jesus is born
Baby jesus is born
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Phillis 01
MY Phillis hath the morning sun
At first to look upon her;
And Phillis hath morn-waking birds
Her risings still to honour.
My Phillis hath prime-feather'd flowers,
That smile when she treads on them;
And Phillis hath a gallant flock,
That leaps since she doth own them.
But Phillis hath too hard a heart,
Alas that she should have it!
It yields no mercy to desert,
Nor grace to those that crave it.
poem by Thomas Lodge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Phillis I
My Phillis hath the morning sun
At first to look upon her;
And Phillis hath morn-waking birds
Her risings still to honour.
My Phillis hath prime-feather'd flowers,
That smile when she treads on them;
And Phillis hath a gallant flock,
That leaps since she doth own them.
But Phillis hath too hard a heart,
Alas that she should have it!
It yields no mercy to desert,
Nor grace to those that crave it.
poem by Thomas Lodge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Please
Heavens, i'd like to be reborn!
Right now, for my mother's affection,
To feel her touch, to feel her cuddle
Lying in her lap all in idle,
No more growing morn to morn.
Heavens! how much mother'll worry!
How long for her to carry
Me, in her womb for ten months
In her lap rest of the days.
I'm stubborn.I can only say sorry!
Heavens! still i'd like to be reborn!
Wish my mother's youth back at dawn
To hold me in her arms
Feeding me with her merciful kisses
Making me again a new born.
Wake her up to see her young
To bear me.Shall avenge and bang
This coffin into pieces.
Wake her up please!
I'd like to be reborn.Somebody, please!
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Song from “Fayette
Why doth the dawning speak of her?
What kindred hath she with the morn?
Why should my wakening thoughts transfer
To her the glow in Orient born?
I only know that wheresoe'er
Awaketh Beauty, she is there.
Why is the noontide full of her?
What kindred hath she with the sun?
Why should the whole world's minister
Be eloquent alone of one?
I only know that wheresoe'er
Exulteth Beauty, she is there.
Why is the midnight fraught with her?
What kindred hath she with the night?
O dreams that are of things that were,
Ye change my darkness into light!
I know, I know that wheresoe'er
Reposeth Beauty, she is there.
poem by James Brunton Stephens
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The Wonder of Dreams
I've dreamt every night
since I've been born
but all of them escaped me
in early morn.
I've lain awake on silent nights
and wondered what I would dream.
Would it be something peaceful,
calm and serene?
Or would something frightening
come into the scene?
We have no control
over dreams that come.
I've always wondered
where these dreams come from?
I don't mind letting my dreams disappear
But now the ones about you
are never clear.
Sometimes you're with me.
These dreams bring peace.
Sometimes you leave me
and good times cease.
I wish I could dream
like when I was born,
never having to wonder
upon awakening in morn.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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