Day By Day
EVERY day has its dawn,
Its soft and silent eve,
Its noontide hours of bliss or bale;--
Why should we grieve?
Why do we heap huge mounds of years
Before us and behind,
And scorn the little days that pass
Like angels on the wind?
Each turning round a small sweet face
As beautiful as near;
Because it is so small a face
We will not see it clear:
We will not clasp it as it flies,
And kiss its lips and brow:
We will not bathe our wearied souls
In its delicious Now.
And so it turns from us, and goes
Away in sad disdain:
Though we would give our lives for it,
It never comes again.
Yet, every day has its dawn,
Its noontide and its eve:
Live while we live, giving God thanks--
He will not let us grieve.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Related quotes
Song (Untitled #7)
Thou to me art such a spring
As the Arab seeks at eve,
Thirsty from the shining sands;
There to bathe his face and hands,
While the sun is taking leave,
And dewy sleep is a delicious thing.
Thou to me art such a dream
As he dreams upon the grass,
While the bubbling coolness near
Makes sweet music in his ear;
And the stars that slowly pass
In solitary grandeur o'er him gleam.
Thou to me art such a dawn
As the dawn whose ruddy kiss
Wakes him to his darling steed;
And again the desert speed,
And again the desert bliss,
Lightens thro' his veins, and he is gone!
poem by George Meredith
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Sonnet to Isa Sleeping
As graceful as the Babylonian willow
Bending, at noontide, over some clear stream
In Palestine, in beauty did she seem
Upon the cygnet-down of her soft pillow;
And now her breast heaved like some gentle billow
Swayed by the presence of the full round moon
Voluptuous as the summer South at noon
Her cheeks as rosy as the radiant dawn
When heaven is cloudless! When she breated, the air
Around was perfume! Timid as the fawn,
And meeker than the dove, her soft words were
Like gentle music heard at night, when all
Around is still until the soul of care
Was soothed, as noontide by some waterfall.
poem by Thomas Holley Chivers from The Lost Pleiad (1854)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Beautiful Irish Dreamer
Beautiful dreamer who wake in the morn
Love and sweet passion, wait here with the dawn
Sounds of the morning, come with the day
Ill' kiss your sweet lips, here in the hay
Beautiful dreamer the Queen, for whom i do long
Lie in the soft sunlight, on this beautiful day
Soft is your heartbeat, that beat so strong
Beautiful dreamer, for whom i do long
Beautiful dreamer, who bathe in the sea
Like Mermaids sunbaking, on a rock made for thee
Over the water my love is born free
Beautiful dreamer girl of my song
Beautiful dreamer for whom i do long
Life is so sad now, now that your gone
Love has left us gone with the dawn
Beautiful dreamer, let me dream on
Beautiful dreamer, please wait for me
poem by Allan James Saywell
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Ain't Gonna Grieve
by Bob Dylan
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
And ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Come on brother, join the band,
Come on sisters, clap your hands,
Tell everybody that's in the land,
You ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
And ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Brown and blue and white and black,
All one color on the one-way track,
We got this far and ain't a-goin' back
And ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
I ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
We're gonna notify your next of kin,
You're gonna raise the roof until the house falls in.
If you get knocked down get up again,
We ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
I ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
We'll sing this song all night long,
Sing it to my baby from midnight on.
She'll sing it to you when I'm dead and gone,
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
I ain't a-gonna grieve no more
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dance Mayflies Dance
They dance they sing a cheerful song
to spread the wings beyond along
the rising sun they want they take
under the blue of silent lake
They dance they sing a melody
no winter wind but trees embrace
the summer glows red ivory
no winter wind but only grace
they jump they fly a symphony
no winter wind but joyful face
They live they dance against the day
the moment of they can not dance
sparkling wings they were washed away
they fall dying they can not dance
the sky the moon were turning gray
till dawn they lost they can not dance
They are Mayflies which dance to live
though short they live they love to give
till dawn they lost their wings to fly
till dawn they lost the dreams so high
poem by Vidi Pudinkz
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Song VII: Dawn Talks to Day
Dawn talks to Day
Over dew-gleaming flowers,
Night flies away
Till the resting of hours:
Fresh are thy feet
And with dreams thine eyes glistening,
Thy still lips are sweet
Though the world is a-listening.
O Love, set a word in my mouth for our meeting,
Cast thine arms round about me to stay my heart's beating!
O fresh day, O fair day, O long day made ours!
Morn shall meet noon
While the flower-stems yet move,
Though the wind dieth soon
And the clouds fade above.
Loved lips are thine
As I tremble and hearken;
Bright thine eyes shine,
Though the leaves thy brow darken.
O Love, kiss me into silence, lest no word avail me,
Stay my head with thy bosom lest breath and life fail me!
O sweet day, O rich day, made long for our love!
Late day shall greet eve,
And the full blossoms shake,
For the wind will not leave
The tall trees while they wake.
Eyes soft with bliss,
Come nigher and nigher!
Sweet mouth I kiss,
Tell me all thy desire!
Let us speak, love, together some words of our story,
That our lips as they part may remember the glory!
O soft day, O calm day, made clear for our sake!
Eve shall kiss night,
And the leaves stir like rain
As the wind stealeth light
O'er the grass of the plain.
Unseen are thine eyes
Mid the dreamy night's sleeping,
And on my mouth there lies
The dear rain of thy weeping.
Hold silence, love, speak not of the sweet day departed,
Cling close to me, love, lest I waken sad-hearted!
O kind day, O dear day, short day, come again!
poem by William Morris
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Little Wonders
Let it go,
Let it roll right off your shoulder
Don't you know
The hardest part is over
Let it in,
Let your clarity define you
In the end
We will only just remember how it feels
Our lives are made
In these small hours
These little wonders,
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away,
But these small hours,
These small hours still remain
Let it slide,
Let your troubles fall behind you
Let it shine
Until you feel it all around you
And i don't mind
If it's me you need to turn to
We'll get by,
It's the heart that really matters in the end
Our lives are made
In these small hours
These little wonders,
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away,
But these small hours,
These small hours still remain
All of my regret
Will wash away some how
But i can not forget
The way i feel right now
In these small hours
These little wonders
These twists & turns of fate
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away but these small hours
These small hours, still remain,
Still remain
These little wonders
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away
But these small hours
These little wonders still remain
poem by Tiana Webb
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With Fresh, Opportunity
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Many come to live,
And not be limited.
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Many come to live,
And not be limited.
There is...
No need to fear,
A new day that appears.
There is...
No need to cry,
Those days once disguised.
There is...
No need to be,
What you once believed.
A new dawn has arrived,
With fresh...
Opportunity!
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
A new dawn.
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
A new dawn.
Many come to live,
And be in it.
A new dawn.
Many come to live,
And not be limited.
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
A new dawn.
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
A new dawn.
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
A new dawn.
Many come to live,
And not be limited.
With fresh,
Opportunity.
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Hey.
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Hey.
Many come to live it,
And be in it!
Hey.
With fresh,
Opportunity.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Dead Child
ALL silent is the room,
There is no stir of breath,
Save mine, as in the gloom
I sit alone with Death.
Short life it had, the sweet,
Small babe here lying dead,
With tapers at its feet
And tapers at its head.
Dear little hands, too frail
Their grasp on life to hold;
Dear little mouth so pale,
So solemn, and so cold;
Small feet that nevermore
About the house shall run;
Thy little life is o’er!
Thy little journey done!
Sweet infant, dead too soon,
Thou shalt no more behold
The face of sun or moon,
Or starlight clear and cold;
Nor know, where thou art gone,
The mournfulness and mirth
We know who dwell upon
This sad, glad, mad, old earth.
The foolish hopes and fond
That cheat us to the last
Thou shalt not feel; beyond
All these things thou hast passed.
The struggles that upraise
The soul by slow degrees
To God, through weary days—
Thou hast no part in these.
And at thy childish play
Shall we, O little one,
No more behold thee? Nay,
No more beneath the sun.
Death’s sword may well be bared
’Gainst those grown old in strife,
But, ah! it might have spared
Thy little unlived life.
Why talk as in despair?
Just God, whose rod I kiss,
Did not make thee so fair
To end thy life at this.
There is some pleasant shore—
Far from His Heaven of Pride,
Where those strong souls who bore
His Cross in bliss abide—
Some place where feeble things,
For Life’s long war too weak,
Young birds with unfledged wings,
Buds nipped by storm-winds bleak,
Young lambs left all forlorn
Beneath a bitter sky,
Meek souls to sorrow born,
Find refuge when they die.
There day is one long dawn,
And from the cups of flowers
Light dew-filled clouds updrawn
Rain soft and perfumed showers.
Child Jesus walketh there
Amidst child-angel bands,
With smiling lips, and fair
White roses in His hands.
I kiss thee on the brow,
I kiss thee on the eyes—
Farewell! Thy home is now
The Children’s Paradise.
poem by Victor James Daley
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Song II: Have No Thought for Tomorrow
Love is enough: have no thought for to-morrow
If ye lie down this even in rest from your pain,
Ye who have paid for your bliss with great sorrow:
For as it was once so it shall be again.
Ye shall cry out for death as ye stretch forth in vain
Feeble hands to the hands that would help but they may not,
Cry out to deaf ears that would hear if they could;
Till again shall the change come, and words your lips say not
Your hearts make all plain in the best wise they would
And the world ye thought waning is glorious and good:
And no morning now mocks you and no nightfall is weary,
The plains are not empty of song and of deed:
The sea strayeth not, nor the mountains are dreary;
The wind is not helpless for any man's need,
Nor falleth the rain but for thistle and weed.
O surely this morning all sorrow is hidden,
All battle is hushed for this even at least;
And no one this noontide may hunger, unbidden
To the flowers and the singing and the joy of your feast
Where silent ye sit midst the world's tale increased.
Lo, the lovers unloved that draw nigh for your blessing!
For your tale makes the dreaming whereby yet they live
The dreams of the day with their hopes of redressing,
The dreams of the night with the kisses they give,
The dreams of the dawn wherein death and hope strive.
Ah, what shall we say then, but that earth threatened often
Shall live on for ever that such things may be,
That the dry seed shall quicken, the hard earth shall soften,
And the spring-bearing birds flutter north o'er the sea,
That earth's garden may bloom round my love's feet and me?
poem by William Morris
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The Bush
GIVE us from dawn to dark
Blue of Australian skies,
Let there be none to mark
Whither our pathway lies.
Give us when noontide comes
Rest in the woodland free—
Fragrant breath of the gums,
Cold, sweet scent of the sea.
Give us the wattle’s gold
And the dew-laden air,
And the loveliness bold
Loneliest landscapes wear.
These are the haunts we love,
Glad with enchanted hours,
Bright as the heavens above,
Fresh as the wild bush flowers.
poem by James Lister Cuthbertson
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Small World
Children seem to have no choice
The children have got no voice
Theyre merely living to grow old
Letting their days unfold
And its time that you and i
Realised that by and by
These children grow up into men
It is clear what we must do
What the lord has told us to
Give our brothers a chance
To be born again
Its a small world, a small world
When you see it through
A pair of haitian eyes
Its a small world, a small world
When the dreams you dream
Melt into haitian skies
Its just not good enough to say
That the troubles too far away
Cos the little that you need to give
Could help a little child to live
Help them live a little longer
Help them grow a little stronger
So why not play a part
If youre ever gonna do
What the lord has told us to
Its got to begin within your heart
Its a small world, a small world
When you reach out and touch
A stranger
From where you stand
Its a small world, a small world
When you can forge another link
In a far off land
Repeat last two lines
Its a small world, a small world
When you can forge another link
In a far off land
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With Silent Lips
I had intended to pour you a cup of tea.
With silent lips.
But the dawn arises,
And it provides my lift!
Not that one...
If you suspect,
I awaken thinking of sex.
Put those thoughts to rest.
Yes,
In the quietness of chirping...
From the morning birds!
I had intended to pour you a cup of tea.
With silent lips.
As we start this day,
Feeling ambitious...
With all BS left,
To a yesterday lived!
But it appears I've been addicted,
To conversate the past.
As it attaches itself,
Like dew on grass.
And celebrating it with a quickness,
While sipping and dismissing what is delicious.
It appears I have a preference,
To discuss my indifferences.
I had intended to pour you a cup of tea.
Seriously...
With silent lips.
Can you find yourself forgiving me?
Knowing we both enjoy the same habits.
Afflicted by rumors and gossip!
And the sharing of it,
To satisfy lives we live.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Book Of Timur - To Suleika
FITTING perfumes to prepare,
And to raise thy rapture high,
Must a thousand rosebuds fair
First in fiery torments die.
One small flask's contents to glean,
Whose sweet fragrance aye may live,
Slender as thy finger e'en,
Must a world its treasures give;
Yes, a world where life is moving,
Which, with impulse full and strong,
Could forbode the Bulbul's loving,
Sweet, and spirit-stirring song.
Since they thus have swell'd our joy,
Should such torments grieve us, then?
Doth not Timur's rule destroy
Myriad souls of living men?
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Another Day
Wake not the dawn too early,
Let night remain a while,
It's painful to face another day,
Without your loving smile.
Wake not the dawn too early,
Let night hide me away,
So I need not face another day,
Having had no communique.
Wake not the dawn too early,
Let night my sweet refuge be,
For having to face another day,
Would be sheer agony for me.
Wake not the dawn too early,
Let night my dreams suffuse,
How can I face another day,
When my heart cannot enthuse.
Wake not the dawn too early,
Let night be my stalwart shield,
Then maybe I can face another day,
When my sadness has been healed.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Slow Burn
Here shall we live in this terrible town
Where the price for our minds
Shall squeeze them tight like a fist
And the walls shall have eyes
And the doors shall have ears
But well dance in their dark
And theyll play with our lives
Like a slow burn
Leading us on and on and on
Like a slow burn
Turning us round and round and round hark who are we
So small in times such as these
Slow burn
Slow burn
Oh, these are the days
These are the strangest of all
These are the nights
These are the darkest to fall
But who knows?
Echoes in tenement halls
Who knows?
Though the years spare them all
Like a slow burn
Leading us on and on and on
Like a slow burn
Twirling us round and round
And upside down
Theres fear overhead
Theres fear overground
Slow burn
Slow burn
Like a slow burn
Leading us on and on and on
Like a slow burn
Turning us round and round and round and here are we
At the center of it all
Slow burn
Slow burn
Slow burn
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tennyson
How beautiful to live as thou didst live!
How beautiful to die as thou didst die,—
In moonlight of the night, without a sigh,
At rest in all the best that love could give!
How excellent to bear into old age
The poet's ardor and the heart of youth,
To keep to the last sleep the vow of truth,
And leave to lands that grieve a glowing page!
How glorious to feel the spirit's power
Unbroken by the near approach of death,
To breathe blest prophecies with failing breath,
Soul-bound to beauty in that latest hour!
How sweet to greet, in final kinship owned,
The master-spirit to thy dreams so dear,
At last from his immortal lips to hear
The dirge for Imogen, and thee, intoned!
How beautiful to live as thou didst live!
How beautiful to die as thou didst die,—
In moonlight of the night, without a sigh,
At rest in all the best that love could give!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Path
There is no turning back from this unending path of mine
Serpent turning back it stands before my eyes
To hell and back it will lead me once more
Its all I have as I stumble in and out of grace
I walk through the gardens of dying lights
And cross over rivers deep and dark as the night
Searching for reasons why time passes by
With every step I take the less I know myself
And every vow I break on my way towards your heart
Countless times Ive prayed for forgiveness
But God just laughed at my face
And this path remains
Leading me into solitude zones
I seek through the darkness my way back home
The journey seems endless but Ill carry on
The shadows will rise and day will fall
And a night turns in dawn
And after the tears this smile all angels grieve with an envious song
When looking into strangers eyes
And I know where I belong
I walk through the gardens of dying lights
And cross over rivers deep and dark as the night
Searching for reasons why time passes by
I seek through the darkness my way back home
The journey seems endless but Ill carry on
The shadows will rise and day will fall
And a night turns in dawn
song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Finis
Give me a few more hours to pass
With the mellow flower of the elm-bough falling,
And then no more than the lonely grass
And the birds calling.
Give me a few more days to keep
With a little love and a little sorrow,
And then the dawn in the skies of sleep
And a clear to-morrow.
Give me a few more years to fill
With a little work and a little lending,
And then the night on a starry hill
And the road's ending.
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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Lines Inscribed on The Wall of a Dungeon in The Southern P of I
Though not a breath can enter here,
I know the wind blows fresh and free;
I know the sun is shining clear,
Though not a gleam can visit me.
They thought while I in darkness lay,
'Twere pity that I should not know
How all the earth is smiling gay;
How fresh the vernal breezes blow.
They knew, such tidings to impart
Would pierce my weary spirit through,
And could they better read my heart,
They'd tell me, she was smiling too.
They need not, for I know it well,
Methinks I see her even now;
No sigh disturbs her bosom's swell,
No shade o'ercasts her angel brow.
Unmarred by grief her angel voice,
Whence sparkling wit, and wisdom flow:
And others in its sound rejoice,
And taste the joys I must not know,
Drink rapture from her soft dark eye,
And sunshine from her heavenly smile;
On wings of bliss their moments fly,
And I am pining here the while!
Oh! tell me, does she never give --
To my distress a single sigh?
She smiles on them, but does she grieve
One moment, when they are not by?
When she beholds the sunny skies,
And feels the wind of heaven blow;
Has she no tear for him that lies
In dungeon gloom, so far below?
While others gladly round her press
And at her side their hours beguile,
Has she no sigh for his distress
Who cannot see a single smile
Nor hear one word nor read a line
That her beloved hand might write,
Who banished from her face must pine
Each day a long and lonely night?
Alexander April 1826
poem by Anne Brontë
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