For Some Poems by Matthew Arnold
Sweeping the chords of Hellas with firm hand,
He wakes lost echoes from song's classic shore,
And brings their crystal cadence back once more
To touch the clouds and sorrows of a land
Where God's truth, cramped and fettered with a band
Of iron creeds, he cheers with golden lore
Of heroes and the men that long before
Wrought the romance of ages yet unscanned.
Still does a cry through sad Valhalla go
For Balder, pierced with Lok's unhappy spray --
For Balder, all but spared by Frea's charms;
And still does art's imperial vista show,
On the hushed sands of Oxus, far away,
Young Sohrab dying in his father's arms.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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By The Fireside : Tegner's Death (Tegner's Drapa)
I heard a voice, that cried,
'Balder the Beautiful
Is dead, is dead!'
And through the misty air
Passed like the mournful cry
Of sunward sailing cranes.
I saw the pallid corpse
Of the dead sun
Borne through the Northern sky.
Blasts from Niffelheim
Lifted the sheeted mists
Around him as he passed.
And the voice forever cried,
'Balder the Beautiful
Is dead, is dead!'
And died away
Through the dreary night,
In accents of despair.
Balder the Beautiful,
God of the summer sun,
Fairest of all the Gods!
Light from his forehead beamed,
Runes were upon his tongue,
As on the warrior's sword.
All things in earth and air
Bound were by magic spell
Never to do him harm;
Even the plants and stones;
All save the mistletoe,
The sacred mistletoe!
Hoeder, the blind old God,
Whose feet are shod with silence,
Pierced through that gentle breast
With his sharp spear, by fraud
Made of the mistletoe,
The accursed mistletoe!
They laid him in his ship,
With horse and harness,
As on a funeral pyre.
Odin placed
A ring upon his finger,
And whispered in his ear.
They launched the burning ship!
It floated far away
Over the misty sea,
Till like the sun it seemed,
Sinking beneath the waves.
Balder returned no more!
So perish the old Gods!
But out of the sea of Time
Rises a new land of song,
Fairer than the old.
Over its meadows green
Walk the young bards and sing.
Build it again,
O ye bards,
Fairer than before!
Ye fathers of the new race,
Feed upon morning dew,
Sing the new Song of Love!
The law of force is dead!
The law of love prevails!
Thor, the thunderer,
Shall rule the earth no more,
No more, with threats,
Challenge the meek Christ.
Sing no more,
O ye bards of the North,
Of Vikings and of Jarls!
Of the days of Eld
Preserve the freedom only,
Not the deeds of blood!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Tegner's Drapa
Heard a voice, that cried,
"Balder the Beautiful
Is dead, is dead!"
And through the misty air
Passed like the mournful cry
Of sunward sailing cranes.
I saw the pallid corpse
Of the dead sun
Borne through the Northern sky.
Blasts from Niffelheim
Lifted the sheeted mists
Around him as he passed.
And the voice forever cried,
"Balder the Beautiful
Is dead, is dead!"
And died away
Through the dreary night,
In accents of despair.
Balder the Beautiful,
God of the summer sun,
Fairest of all the Gods!
Light from his forehead beamed,
Runes were upon his tongue,
As on the warrior's sword.
All things in earth and air
Bound were by magic spell
Never to do him harm;
Even the plants and stones;
All save the mistletoe,
The sacred mistletoe!
Hoeder, the blind old God,
Whose feet are shod with silence,
Pierced through that gentle breast
With his sharp spear, by fraud,
Made of the mistletoe!
The accursed mistletoe!
They laid him in his ship,
With horse and harness,
As on a funeral pyre.
Odin placed
A ring upon his finger,
And whispered in his ear.
They launched the burning ship!
It floated far away
Over the misty sea,
Till like the sun it seemed,
Sinking beneath the waves.
Balder returned no more!
So perish the old Gods!
But out of the sea of Time
Rises a new land of song,
Fairer than the old.
Over its meadows green
Walk the young bards and sing.
Build it again,
O ye bards,
Fairer than before;
Ye fathers of the new race,
Feed upon morning dew,
Sing the new Song of Love!
The law of force is dead!
The law of love prevails!
Thor, the thunderer,
Shall rule the earth no more,
No more, with threats,
Challenge the meek Christ.
Sing no more,
O ye bards of the North,
Of Vikings and of Jarls!
Of the days of Eld
Preserve the freedom only,
Not the deeds of blood!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Frustration
There are days of great frustration
when you want to do something, but can’t.
The more you try the worse it gets,
not giving up you keep trying repeatedly
only just to get the same reply.
The more you yank at your hair,
the balder you get,
until finally your iron will snaps
and you say that is that,
I will come back another day
and try all over again.
Hopefully I will have more success then
with fingers and anything else you can cross.
It is your only hope for survival
from the frustration that you feel.
12 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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Drifting Too Far
Out on the perilous deep,
Where danger silently creeps,
And storm's so violently sweeping,
You're drifting too far from shore.
Chorus:
Drifting too far from shore,
You're drifting too far from shore,
Come to Jesus today,
Let Him show you the way
You're drifting too far from shore.
Today, the Tempest rose high,
And clouds o'er shadow the sky.
Sure death is hovering neigh,
You're drifting too far from shore.
Drifting too far from shore,
You're drifting too far from shore,
Come to Jesus today,
Let Him show you the way
You're drifting too far from shore.
Why meet a terrible fate?
Mercies abundantly wait.
Turn back before it's too late
You're drifting too far from shore.
Drifting too far from shore
You're drifting too far from shore (peaceful shore)
Come to Jesus today. Let him show you the way
You're drifting too far from shore...
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Song Sparrow
Fair little scout, that when the iron year
Changes, and the first fleecy clouds deploy,
Comest with such a sudden burst of joy,
Lifting on winter's doomed and broken rear
That song of silvery triumph blithe and clear;
Not yet quite conscious of the happy glow,
We hungered for some surer touch, and lo!
One morning we awake, and thou art here.
And thousands of frail-stemmed hepaticas,
With their crisp leaves and pure and perfect hues,
Light sleepers, ready for the golden news,
Spring at thy note beside the forest ways--
Next to thy song, the first to deck the hour--
The classic lyrist and the classic flower.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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Cold Wind To Valhalla
And ride with us young bonny lass ---
With the angels of the night.
Crack wind clatter --- flesh rein bite on an out-size
Unicorn.
Rough-shod winging sky blue flight on a cold wind
To valhalla.
And join with us please --- valkyrie maidens cry
Above the cold wind to valhalla.
Break fast with the gods. night angels serve
With ice-bound majesty.
Frozen flaking fish raw nerve ---
In a cup of silver liquid fire.
Moon jet brave beam split ceiling swerve and light
The old valhalla.
Come join with us please --- valkyrie maidens cry
Above the cold wind to valhalla.
The heroes rest upon the sighs of thors trusty
Hand maidens.
Midnight lonely whisper cries,
''were getting a bit short on heroes lately.
Sword snap fright white pale goodbyes in the
Desolation of valhalla.
And join with us please --- valkyrie maidens ride
Empty-handed on the cold wind to valhalla.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hidden Charms
Her lips are sweet
Her legs are big
Her looks can make you
Dance the jig
Her touch is so soft
Her heart is so warm
What knocks me out
Is your hidden charms
Her voice is so soft
Her love is so true
I think about her
Thats all I do
Shes weak and wanton
In my arms
What moves me darling
Is your hidden charms
When I hold you
In my arms
Brings out all of your
Hidden charms
Her kiss is so pure
As the morning dew
A real gone love
Is exciting too
Her eyes that talk
They say cmon
What kills me baby
Is your hidden charms
When I hold you
In my arms
Brings out all of your
Hidden charms
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wrap Me In Your Arms
(harlan collins)
Understand I am afraid on my feet
Show me a seat
And give me a chance to recover my strength
And at length I will join in the dance
As you can see Im all out of time
So scared to stand and swing with the band
Wont you give me your hand
You seem so strong and handsome to me
Well dance
Wrap me in your arms again
Your touch is so much
Its enough
Wrap me in your arms again
Im dancing my way into love
I must confess Ive been on the floor often before
But men stepped on my toes and now God only knows
I was bound to come on to this sweet romance
Now well dance
Wrap me in your arms again
Your touch is so much
Its enough
Wrap me in your arms again
Im dancing my way into love
Wrap me in your arms again
Your touch is so much
Its enough
Wrap me in your arms again
Im dancing my way into love
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Drifting Too Far From The Shore
(traditional)
Out on the perilous deep,
Where danger silently creeps,
And storms so violently sweeping,
Youre drifting too far from shore.
Chorus: drifting too far from shore,
Youre drifting too far from shore,
Come to jesus today,
Let him show you the way.
Youre drifting too far from shore,
Today, the tempest rose high,
And clouds oershadow the sky.
Sure death is hovering nigh,
Youre drifting too far from shore.
Drifting too far from shore,
Youre drifting too far from shore,
Come to jesus today,
Let him show you the way.
Youre drifting too far from shore,
Why meet a terrible fate?
Mercies abundantly wait.
Turn back before its too late
Youre drifting too far from shore.
Drifting too far from shore
Youre drifting too far from shore (peaceful shore)
Come to jesus today. let him show you the way
Youre drifting too far from shore.
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ocean Song
Sing a little song,
Just an itty bitty ditty,
About the rolling boom
Of the ocean’s lull and gloom.
Sing a little song,
Hum a simple tune,
That reminds you of the sea
And all that she may be.
Sing a little song,
Tap an unknown beat,
To sway the stars above
And steal the ocean from her love.
Sing a little song,
A sweeter melody.
Let’s coax the waves to shore -
Inspiring new lore.
Sing a little song,
Create some fancy notes,
That tempt the moon to land,
And we’ll dance on golden sand.
Sing a little song,
Drum an unheard rhythm,
About the sea’s unending keen
And all that she has seen.
Sing a little song,
A peaceful lullaby,
That speaks of pleasant ages
And soothes the ocean’s rages.
poem by Robin Shuler
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The Chorus of Old Men in Aegus
Ye gods that have a home beyond the world,
Ye that have eyes for all man’s agony,
Ye that have seen this woe that we have seen,—
Look with a just regard,
And with an even grace,
Here on the shattered corpse of a shattered king,
Here on a suffering world where men grow old
And wander like sad shadows till, at last,
Out of the flare of life,
Out of the whirl of years,
Into the mist they go,
Into the mist of death.
O shades of you that loved him long before
The cruel threads of that black sail were spun,
May loyal arms and ancient welcomings
Receive him once again
Who now no longer moves
Here in this flickering dance of changing days,
Where a battle is lost and won for a withered wreath,
And the black master Death is over all
To chill with his approach,
To level with his touch,
The reigning strength of youth,
The fluttered heart of age.
Woe for the fateful day when Delphi’s word was lost—
Woe for the loveless prince of Æthra’s line!
Woe for a father’s tears and the curse of a king’s release—
Woe for the wings of pride and the shafts of doom!
And thou, the saddest wind
That ever blew from Crete,
Sing the fell tidings back to that thrice unhappy ship!—
Sing to the western flame,
Sing to the dying foam.
A dirge for the sundered years and a dirge for the years to be!
Better his end had been as the end of a cloudless day,
Bright, by the word of Zeus, with a golden star,
Wrought of a golden fame, and flung to the central sky,
To gleam on a stormless tomb for evermore:—
Whether or not there fell
To the touch of an alien hand
The sheen of his purple robe and the shine of his diadem,
Better his end had been
To die as an old man dies,—
But the fates are ever the fates, and a crown is ever a crown.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Ocean: An Ode. Concluding with A Wish.
What do we see! Cato then become
A greater name in Britain than in Rome?
Does mankind now admire his virtues more,
Though Lucan, Horace, Virgil, wrote before?
How will posterity this truth explain?
"Cato begins to live in Anna's reign."
The world's great chiefs, in council or in arms,
Rise in your lines with more exalted charms;
Illustrious deeds in distant nations wrought,
And virtues by departed heroes taught,
Raise in your soul a pure immortal flame,
Adorn your life, and consecrate your fame;
To your renown all ages you subdue,
And Caesar fought, and Cato bled for you.
poem by Edward Young
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Out Of The Depths: Written After The Reformation Of A Brilliant And Talented Man
Out of the midnight, rayless and cheerless,
Into the morning's golden light;
Out of the clutches of wrong and ruin,
Into the arms of truth and right;
Out of the ways that are ways of sorrow,
Out of the paths that are paths of pain,
Yea, out of the depths has a soul arisen,
And 'one that was lost is found again.'
Lost in the sands of an awful desert,
Lost in the region of imps accursed,
With bones of victims to mark his pathway,
And burning lava to quench his thirst;
Lost in the darkness, astray in the shadows;
Father above, do we pray in vain?
Hark! on the winds come gleeful tidings,
Lo! he was lost, but is found again.
Found! and the sunlight of God's great mercy
Dispels the shadows, and brings the morn.
Found! and the hosts of the dear Redeemer
Are shouting aloud o'er a soul new born,
Plucked, like a brand, from the conflagration,
Cleansed, like a garment, free from stain,
Saved, pray God, for ever and ever;
Lost for a season, but found again.
'Out of the depths' by the grace of heaven,
Out of the depth of woe and shame,
And he blots his name from the roll of drunkards,
To carve it again on the heights of fame.
'Wine is a mocker, and strong drink raging.'
Glory to God, he has snapped the chain
That bound him with fetters of steel and iron,
And he that he was lost is found again.
Down with the cup, though it gleam like rubies;
Down with the glass, though it sparkle and shine,
'It bites like a serpent, and stings like an adder,'
There is woe, and sorrow, and shame in wine.
Keen though the sword be, and deadly its mission,
Three times its number the wine-cup has slain.
God, send thy grace unto those it has fettered-
God, grant the lost may be found again.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Golden Touch
Golden touch
I was broken till you came along
You put the words back into my song
In your world is where I now belong
Golden touch is it that I love you so much
I was lost till I met you
I now love everything you do
I live now just because of you
Golden touch
Your are the object of my desire
I am like a cat on a high wire
For you I would walk in front of gunfire
Golden touch
This to you I must confess
Your mind and body I want to possess
I long for you to kiss and caress
Golden touch my Liege
You are the key to my success
My love I can no longer suppress
You are a beautiful princess
Golden touch
To me I grant you total access
With you I feel no distress
You have driven me to total madness
Golden touch
No longer these thoughts I can suppress
With my eyes you I’ve undress
If the world would know I could care less
Golden touch
These words I wish to you to express
You’ve brought me out of my sadness
You’ve driven back the darkness
You are my goddess and my empress
Golden touch
I wasn’t quite right and you made me see the light
You are what I’ve been longing for
With your love I could never want more
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Valhalla
Leading us on, to the land of eternity
Riding the cold cold winds of valhalla
The kingdom of odin is the kingdom of gods
Where only souls of the brave may rest in peace
But someone among them had the skill of deceit
And raised the hand that would open the road to hel
When the winds of valhalla run cold
Be sure that the blood will start to flow
When the winds of valhalla run cold
Valhalla
The ring has been broken and a soul must be saved
Among the bravest of men, who rides to hel
The longships are sailing and the chariots ride
And yes the anger of thor will serve you well
When the winds of valhalla run cold
Be sure that the blood will start to flow
When the winds of valhalla run cold
Valhalla
Raise your hands
Reach and valhalla will save your soul
Raise your eyes
And odin will lead us on
They say that history repeats itself
Upon the year of the seventh century
Well nobody knows, no you never can tell
So youd better run now and hide away
When the winds of valhalla run cold
Be sure that the blood will start to flow
When the winds of valhalla run cold
Valhalla
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Background Of Softest Blue Sky (Rev.)
Rainfall in thin silver slivers
crystal drops cling to rails
sun a radiant shaft through clouds
gleaming strings stream down
thunder rolls in deep-throated delight
rumbling contentment, satisfied
Rain plays percussion on roof iron, grass
glows in phosphorescent green
sunrays form dragonfly wings in my eyes
as I gaze into a rich, baritone thunder
a symphony in silver
A mint imperial sun winking
playing crystal drops twinkling
on blades of grass, raindrops in chords
on roof counterpoint to thunder’s
comforting booms, sunbeams glistening in
silver clouds, background of softest blue
poem by Margaret Alice
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Romance Bore Seduction
Hand blessed hand, caressed.
A blushing rose, her face;
Her breast alive;
The elfin nose, a diamond set -
A kiss upon perfection
Bore a rise of pulse
To coach a sultry moan
Across a mellow breath of wine.
He knew; he sensed,
And easing loose a clasp of lace,
Another sign of her relenting:
Wild the play of eyes,
A fuller glide of skin;
He felt the now begin -
Her swell, intention in the sigh.
And so to hedge his move upon the cue -
The cry of deep anticipation,
Waxing all he saw -
Tho' not for us to view -
Arrived, emotion raw.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
Now render to caressing waves of romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Capricornia
Capricornia don't walk away
show me to the back of your hand
capricornia don't leave me here
dying in the back of your land.
In the evening things all fall apart
they crawl away dying in the bushes alone
in the morning well I see myself
see myself as a Christ like figure walking.
In the evening things all fall apart
they crawl away
drowning in the setting sun
in the morning well I see myself
I see myself as a father mother brother sister.
Capricornia don't walk away
show me to the back of your hand
capricornia don't fade away
show me to the back of your hand
capricornia it's a free ride
capricornia.
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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John Cornstalk
Jack Cornstalk lives in the Southern Land—
What says Cornstalk John?
Jack Cornstalk says in a loud firm voice:
“Land of the South, lead on.”
CHORUS:
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Land of the South, lead on!
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Lead on, Land of the South!
John Bull lays claim to the Southern Land.
Jack, is the South Land thine?
John Cornstalk cries in a loud, firm voice:
“The Land of the South is mine!”
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Land of the South, lead on!
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Lead on, Land of the South!
“By the long, long years my father toiled
In the pioneering band;
By the hardships of those early days,
I claim the Southern Land!”
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Land of the South, lead on!
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Lead on, Land of the South!
But where shall the Land of the South lead to?
Where lead the nation’s van?
Jack Cornstalk cries from his strong young heart:
“To the Dynasty of Man.”
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Land of the South, lead on!
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Lead on, Land of the South!
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Moral Breakdown
Crushing silent envy holds you
On the other side
Worlds away I listen for your voice
Hear nothing but old words echoing through my mind
I long for new words, new touches to hold us
It's been so long since our bodies entwined
In darkest secret shame
Behind closed doors the lies could protect us
Encase the truth until it was invisible
And we became invisible
Then I lost the touch and all was lost
I lost the touch of incorruptible love
Of purest desire, crystal pain
And you were lost again
Please find me here and hold me
In darkest secret games
And golden touch shall hold me close
And save me once again.
poem by Aurora Bell
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