Work And Contemplation
The woman singeth at her spinning-wheel
A pleasant chant, ballad or barcarole;
She thinketh of her song, upon the whole,
Far more than of her flax; and yet the reel
Is full, and artfully her fingers feel
With quick adjustment, provident control,
The lines--too subtly twisted to unroll--
Out to a perfect thread. I hence appeal
To the dear Christian Church--that we may do
Our Father's business in these temples mirk,
Thus swift and steadfast, thus intent and strong;
While thus, apart from toil, our souls pursue
Some high calm spheric tune, and prove our work
The better for the sweetness of our song.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Related quotes
The humming top
The top it hummeth a sweet, sweet song
To my dear little boy at play -
Merrily singeth all day long,
As it spinneth and spinneth away.
And my dear little boy
He laugheth with joy
When he heareth the monotone
Of that busy thing
That loveth to sing
The song that is all its own.
Hold fast the string and wind it tight,
That the song be loud and clear;
Now hurl the top with all your might
Upon the banquette here;
And straight from the string
The joyous thing
Boundeth and spinneth along,
And it whirrs and it chirrs
And it birrs and it purrs
Ever its pretty song.
Will ever my dear little boy grow old,
As some have grown before?
Will ever his heart feel faint and cold,
When he heareth the songs of yore?
Will ever this toy
Of my dear little boy,
When the years have worn away,
Sing sad and low
Of the long ago,
As it singeth to me to-day?
poem by Eugene Field
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The Spinner
As I calmly sat and span,
Toiling with all zeal,
Lo! a young and handsome man
Pass'd my spinning-wheel.
And he praised,--what harm was there?--
Sweet the things he said--
Praised my flax-resembling hair,
And the even thread.
He with this was not content,
But must needs do more;
And in twain the thread was rent,
Though 'twas safe before.
And the flax's stonelike weight
Needed to be told;
But no longer was its state
Valued as of old.
When I took it to the weaver,
Something felt I start,
And more quickly, as with fever,
Throbb'd my trembling heart.
Then I bear the thread at length
Through the heat, to bleach;
But, alas, I scarce have strength
To the pool to reach.
What I in my little room
Span so fine and slight,--
As was likely. I presume--
Came at last to light.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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The American Popular Song
It's a popular song, an American popular song.
And there's something about it, can't live without it.
It's the tune of the day, somehow it takes you away
and it grabs you, and it holds you, feel it control you,
makes you want to clap your hands.
Makes you want to stomp your feet.
Makes you want to sing along. It means business.
The American popular song goes on and on.
The American popular song goes on and on and on.
It's a popular song. An American popular song.
A simple story wrapped up in glory.
Once you hear it you know you got to hear it some more.
And that's power, try it, you can't deny it.
Makes you want to clap your hands.
Makes you want to stomp your feet.
Makes you want to sing along. It means business.
The American popular song goes on and on.
The American popular song goes on and on and on.
It's a popular song. An American popular song.
It's a popular song, an American popular song.
It's a popular song, an American popular song.
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Song of the Shirt
The Song of the Shirt
With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread--
Stitch! stitch! stitch!
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch
She sang the "Song of the Shirt."
"Work! work! work!
While the cock is crowing aloof!
And work — work — work,
Till the stars shine through the roof!
It's Oh! to be a slave
Along with the barbarous Turk,
Where woman has never a soul to save,
If this is Christian work!
"Work — work — work
Till the brain begins to swim;
Work — work — work
Till the eyes are heavy and dim!
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Till over the buttons I fall asleep,
And sew them on in a dream!
"Oh, Men, with Sisters dear!
Oh, Men, with Mothers and Wives!
It is not linen you're wearing out,
But human creatures' lives!
Stitch — stitch — stitch,
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
Sewing at once with a double thread,
A Shroud as well as a Shirt.
But why do I talk of Death?
That Phantom of grisly bone,
I hardly fear its terrible shape,
It seems so like my own —
It seems so like my own,
Because of the fasts I keep;
Oh, God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!
"Work — work — work!
My Labour never flags;
And what are its wages? A bed of straw,
A crust of bread — and rags.
That shatter'd roof — and this naked floor —
A table — a broken chair —
And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank
For sometimes falling there!
"Work — work — work!
From weary chime to chime,
Work — work — work!
As prisoners work for crime!
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumb'd,
As well as the weary hand.
"Work — work — work,
In the dull December light,
And work — work — work,
When the weather is warm and bright —
While underneath the eaves
The brooding swallows cling
As if to show me their sunny backs
And twit me with the spring.
Oh! but to breathe the breath
Of the cowslip and primrose sweet —
With the sky above my head,
And the grass beneath my feet
For only one short hour
To feel as I used to feel,
Before I knew the woes of want
And the walk that costs a meal!
Oh! but for one short hour!
A respite however brief!
No blessed leisure for Love or Hope,
But only time for Grief!
A little weeping would ease my heart,
But in their briny bed
My tears must stop, for every drop
Hinders needle and thread!"
With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread —
Stitch! stitch! stitch!
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, —
Would that its tone could reach the Rich! —
She sang this "Song of the Shirt!"
poem by Thomas Hood
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Sing on, Spinning Wheel
(PaaDavE RaaTnamaa)
(With the clarion call given by Gandhiji many intellectuals and poets plunged into Indian freedom struggle. As part of strategy to discourage the use of foreign goods, Gandhiji encouraged Indians to wear the home spun cotton (Khadi) . This song was a popular song written by Kavikokila Duvvuri Rami Reddy, glorifying the khadi and spinning wheel)
Telugu original: KavikOkila Duvvuri Raami Reddy(1895-1947)
Telugu translation: Ch J Satyananda Kumar
poddu poDupoo chukka poDichindi raaTnamaa
gooLLalO pakshulu koosEnu raaTnamaa
aruNakiraNaalatO aaTalaaDEnoolu
tammikaaDalalOni tantulanTEnoolu
manciniiLLallOna maRagipoyyEnoolu
saaliiDupOgutO sarasamaaDEnoolu
gaalitaragalalOna tElipoyyEnoolu
vaDakavE raaTnamaa vajraaladoodi
naDapavE raaTnamaa nakshatraviidhi,
poddu poDupoo cukka poDicindi raaTnamaa
gooLLalO pakshulu koosEnu raaTnamaa
muddulolkE paaTa mutyaalapaaTa
paruvunilpEpaaTa bangaarupaaTa
mattumaapEpaaTa madhurampupaaTa
nidralEpE paaTa niddampu paaTa
kaDupu nimpEpaaTa kanikarapupaaTa
paaDavE raaTnamaa Baavi Baaratamu
aaDavEraaTnamaa aandhra naaTakamu
poddu poDupoo cukka poDicindi raaTnamaa
gooLLalO pakshulu koosEnu raaTnamaa
kaTTa guDDaalEka kaTakaTaa paDucu
kuDuva kooDoo lEka gODu gODanunu
daasya vaaraaSilO darigaana lEka
bedari bedarii coocu pirikipandalanu
aatmanindala tODa naDalu bElalanu
purikolpa SanKambu poorinci lEpi
tippavE raaTnamaa dESa cakrambu
vippavE raaTnamaa vijaya kEtanamu-
Translation:
morning star appeared, Oh spinning wheel
birds in nests chirped, Oh spinning wheel
the cotton thread that plays with the rays of dawn
the cotton thread which looks like the fiber of floral stem
the cotton thread that gets boiled in water
the cotton thread that caresses the spider’s web strand
the cotton thread that floats in waves of the breeze
spin Oh spinning wheel the gem like cotton
haul on Oh spinning wheel in celestial street
morning star appeared, Oh spinning wheel
birds in nests chirped, Oh spinning wheel
lovely song, pearly song
status keeping song, golden song
stupor expelling song, melodious song
slumber driving out song, sturdy song
stomach filling song, compassionate song
sing on Oh spinning wheel, of tomorrow’s India
perform Oh spinning wheel, Andhra’s stage show
morning star appeared, Oh spinning wheel
birds in nests chirped, Oh spinning wheel
with no clothes to wear, singing distraught
with no food to eat, lamenting with grief
not able to find the shore, in the sea of slavery
startled and scared looking cowards
simpletons languishing in self blaming
to stimulate them, to get up and blow the conch shell
twirl Oh spinning wheel, the nation’s wheel
unfurl, Oh spinning wheel, victorious ensign
poem by Ch J Satyananda Kumar
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The Little Vagabond
Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold;
But the Alehouse is healthy, and pleasant, and warm.
Besides, I can tell where I am used well;
Such usage in heaven will never do well.
But, if at the Church they would give us some ale,
And a pleasant fire our souls to regale,
We’d sing and we’d pray all the livelong day,
Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray.
Then the Parson might preach, and drink, and sing,
And we’d be as happy as birds in the spring;
And modest Dame Lurch, who is always at church,
Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.
And God, like a father, rejoicing to see
His children as pleasant and happy as He,
Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the barrel,
But kiss him, and give him both drink and apparel.
poem by William Blake from Songs of Experience (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Swing high and swing low
Swing high and swing low
While the breezes they blow -
It's off for a sailor thy father would go;
And it's here in the harbor, in sight of the sea,
He hath left his wee babe with my song and with me:
"Swing high and swing low
While the breezes they blow!"
Swing high and swing low
While the breezes they blow -
It's oh for the waiting as weary days go!
And it's oh for the heartache that smiteth me when
I sing my song over and over again:
"Swing high and swing low
While the breezes they blow!"
"Swing high and swing low " -
The sea singeth so,
And it waileth anon in its ebb and its flow;
And a sleeper sleeps on to that song of the sea
Nor recketh he ever of mine or of me!
"Swing high and swing low
While the breezes they blow -
'T was off for a sailor thy father would go!"
poem by Eugene Field
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Windmills Of Your Mind
Round,
Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain
Or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that's turning
Running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on its face
And the world is like an apple
Spinning silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind
Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half-forgotten dream
Like the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on its face
And the world is like an apple
Spinning silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind
Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly?
Was it something that I said?
Lovers walk along a shore
And leave their footprints in the sand
Was the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway
Or the fragment of a song
Half-remembered names and faces
but to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over
Were you suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the colour of her hair?
Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel
As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The last song
this is the last song
this is the last song i'll sing for you
this is the last song
this is the last song i can give you
the roaring city sleeps
metal fingers clutching dirty sheets
and no one comes for free
in this place where the angels sleep
this is the last song
my eyes are open wonder to this
as you hold the secrets
i count the minutes off so perfectly
the shards of broken glass
sing the strains of a sad old tune
we've made it at last
but what we had is lost inside our past
this is the last song
could you find away across me
to forgive and forget me
to appease and relent me
to deceive and detect me
to understand and release me
to the dawn
this is the last song
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins from The Aeroplane Flies High
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Out Of Control
I have done everything that you say.
I followed your rules without question.
I thought it would help me see things clearly.
But insted of helping me see,
I look around and it is like I am running,
Im spinning outa control, outa control
Im spinning outa control, outa control.
Where should I go, what should I do.
I dont understand what you want from me.
Cauz I dont know, if I can trust you,
I dont understand what you want from me.
I feel like I am spinning out of control
Try to focus but everything is twisted,
And all alone I thought you were be there.
To let me know, Im not alone,
But in fact that is exactly what I want.
Im spinning outa control, outa control
Im spinning outa control, outa control
Where should I go, what should I do,
I dont understand what you want from me.
Cauz I dont know, if I can trust you,
Or all of the things you said to me.
And I may never know,
the answer to this sadlis mystery.
Where should I go, what should I do,
I dont understand what you want from me.
It is still a mystery, it is still a mystery.
Im spinning outa control, outa control
Im spinning outa control, outa control
Im spinning outa control, outa control
Im spinning outa control, outa control
Im spinning outa control, outa control
Im spinning outa control, outa control
Im spinning outa control, outa control
Im spinning outa control, outa control
Where should I go, what should I do,
I dont understand what you want from me.
Cauz I dont know, if I can trust you,
Or all of the things you said to me.
And I may never know,
the answer to this sadlis mystery.
Where should I go, what should I do,
I dont understand what you want from me.
Im spinning outa control, outa control
Im spinning outa control, outa control!!
song performed by by Hoobastank
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Same Song
Well back in time with just a rhythm and rhyme
Gregorian chants were a real big thing
They took that chant and added harmony
It was a different sound
But had the same meaning
I know (I know) I know (I know)
It took us a long while
To go (to go) to go (to go)
And find us a rock style
I know (I know) I know (I know)
That we can take it one more mile
Because
Were singing that same song
Were still singing that same song
Were singing that same song
That same song
That same song
The rock of ages
Built that rockin sound
til more and more people start to come around
They worshipped in church
And built that great big choir
It grew and it grew
Until it spread like fire
I know (I know) I know (I know)
It took us a long while
To go (to go) to go (to go)
And find us a rock style
I know (I know) I know (I know)
That we can take it one more mile
Because
Were singing that same song
Were still singing that same song
Were singing that same song
That same song
That same song
Same song
Oh yeah
Same song
Oh yeah
Same song that same song
Same song
Oh yeah
Same song
Oh yeah
Same song that same song
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sing Your Song
Around and around we go
singing our song sweet and low,
our song of love,
and our song of life.
You choose what
you want to hear
springs eternal life
deaths eternal damnation
loves summer song
or winters heartache pose.
This life is yours
sing what you may.
Come sun and sprinkling shower
you can give a tune to everything
no matter what the hour.
Sing your song
to your hearts content
of loves ballad or deaths lament.
Sing your song to be heard
from highest hill to evening flower,
sing it high, sing it low,
but sing it anyway,
for life is for singing
the praises of being here.
29 August 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like A Red Rose
If you were a song
I know how you would sound
A rock-ballad
which lasts all day long
Your words would be refined
well formed and everlasting
the kind of words
that never leaves my mind
Like a red rose
newly sprung and beautiful
I would listen to your song
and feel you were ever so close
But if you were a song
we could never be together
I could hear you
but never touch you
and that would hurt me
even if I were ever so strong.
poem by Iselin Steinsto
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This Song
This song has nothing tricky about it
This song aint black or white and as far as I know
Dont infringe on anyones copyright, so . . .
This song well let be
This song is in e
This song is for you and . . .
This tune has nothing bright about it
This tune aint bad or good and come ever what may
My expert tells me its okay
As this song came to me
Quite unknowingly
This song could be you could be . . .
This riff aint trying to win gold medals
This riff aint hip or square
Well done or rare
May end up one more weight to bear
But this song could well be
A reason to see - that
Without you theres no point to . . . this song
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Melodious song
The autumn’s presence has come on strong
The old bull frog’s tweedling his drone
And the bird chirrups and seems to belong
All in a melodious song
In this melodious song
The squirrels fidget behind the pine combs
The owl’s hooting joins right along
A woodpecker is pecking a hymn unknown
All in a melodious song
In this melodious song
And on the ground, I am prone
For I can’t find where I belong
I’m never happy, never strong
For this tune sounds horrible with groans
All in a melodious song
In this melodious song
But what if my purpose, my purpose is known?
To just sometimes listen to this cheerful song
And let it inspire me, all of these tones
All in a melodious song
In this melodious song!
poem by Whitney Albright
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Where I Belong
The autumn’s presence has come on strong
The old bull frog’s tweedling his drone
And the bird's chirrups seem to belong
All in a melodious song
In this melodious song
The squirrels fidget behind the pine combs
The owl’s hooting joins right along
A woodpecker is pecking a hymn unknown
All in a melodious song
In this melodious song
And on the ground, I am prone
For I can’t find where I belong
I’m never happy, never strong
For this tune sounds horrible with groans
All in a melodious song
In this melodious song
But what if my purpose, my purpose is known?
To just sometimes listen to this cheerful song
And let it inspire me, all of these tones
All in a melodious song
In this melodious song!
poem by Whitney Albright
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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By The Seaside : The Secret Of The Sea
Ah! what pleasant visions haunt me
As I gaze upon the sea!
All the old romantic legends,
All my dreams, come back to me.
Sails of silk and ropes of sandal,
Such as gleam in ancient lore;
And the singing of the sailors,
And the answer from the shore!
Most of all, the Spanish ballad
Haunts me oft, and tarries long,
Of the noble Count Arnaldos
And the sailor's mystic song.
Like the long waves on a sea-beach,
Where the sand as silver shines,
With a soft, monotonous cadence,
Flow its unrhymed lyric lines;--
Telling how the Count Arnaldos,
With his hawk upon his hand,
Saw a fair and stately galley,
Steering onward to the land;--
How he heard the ancient helmsman
Chant a song so wild and clear,
That the sailing sea-bird slowly
Poised upon the mast to hear,
Till his soul was full of longing,
And he cried, with impulse strong,--
'Helmsman! for the love of heaven,
Teach me, too, that wondrous song!'
'Wouldst thou,'--so the helmsman answered,
'Learn the secret of the sea?
Only those who brave its dangers
Comprehend its mystery!'
In each sail that skims the horizon,
In each landward-blowing breeze,
I behold that stately galley,
Hear those mournful melodies;
Till my soul is full of longing
For the secret of the sea,
And the heart of the great ocean
Sends a thrilling pulse through me.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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In That Mood To Pursue
I'm in that mood.
In that mood.
To pursue,
And do...
Just for me and not a thing to prove.
I'm in that mood.
In that mood.
To pursue,
And do...
Just for me,
And not a thing to prove.
I woke up in attitude I knew.
Arrogant but more...
Determinance.
Like a man standing in defense...
Of what I have now with confidence.
And no one's gona try to say I make no sense.
I'm in that mood.
In that mood.
To pursue,
And do...
Just for me and not a thing to prove.
I'm in that mood.
In that mood.
To pursue,
And do...
Just for me,
And not a thing to prove.
I woke up in attitude I knew.
Arrogant,
With a meaning intent.
And a mind tracked on common sense.
I'm in that mood.
In that mood.
To pursue,
And do...
Just for me,
And not a thing to prove.
I feel there's nothing now that I can't do.
I'm in that mood,
For me.
No one has to agree.
I'm up,
And ready to fulfill my needs.
I said I'm up...
And ready to fulfill my needs.
I'm in that mood.
In that mood.
To pursue,
And do...
Just for me and not a thing to prove,
To you or nobody in that groove...
Who aint got it goin' and movin'!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Untitled
Sure/go to cali/have fun/bring me back/a silver gun/
let me shoot/a hole in the sky/give the moon/another
eye/so I can see/deep inside/in the place/where all
time hides/where people go/after their gone/and love
without love/still marches on/to the tune of a different song/
to the tune of a different song/miss me when your gone/
to the tune of a different song
you left your heart/in san francisco/getting down at the
disco/when she walked up/too your hand/danced you
down/danced you down/when you land/land on me/you see me/
I'm off the wall/against the wall/I can't call/you can't hear/above the
noise/above the sound/she dances you up/she dances you down/
I grab my coat/and then I'm gone/ to the tune of a different song/
to the tune of a different song/miss me when I'm gone/to the tune
of a different song
the holiday covered in snow/now you're back/where'd you go? /
you got a number/she give you her's/was it hot/ what've you got/
did she take your breath away/what have you got to say/did she take your
breath away/on the beach/in the sun/on the sand/on the run/ in the heat/
in the cold/what have you got left to hold/she took your hand/but now she's gone/
and here I stand/life goes on/to the tune of a different song/to the tune of a different
song/miss me when I'm gone/to the tune of a different song
Man's Too Strong
I'm just and ageing drummer boy
And in the wars I used to play
And I've called the tune
To many a torture session
Now they say I am a war criminal
And I'm fading away
Father please her my confession
I have legalised robbery
Called it belief
I have run with the money
And hid like a theif
I have re-written history
With my armies and my crooks
Invented memories
I did burn all the books
And I can still hear his laughter
And I can still hear his song
The man's too big
The man's too strong
Well I have tried to be meek
And I have tried to be mild
But I spat like a woman
And sulked like a child
I have lived behind wall
That have made me alone
Striven for peace
Which I never have known
And I can still hear his laughter
And I can still hear his song
The man's too big
The man's too strong
Well the sun rose on the courtyard
And they all did hear him say
'You always were a Judas
But I got you anyway
You may have got your silver
But I swear upon my life
Your sister gave me diamonds
And I gave them to your wife
Oh father please help me
For I have done wrong
The man's too big
The man's too strong
song performed by by Dire Straits
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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