Are not the joys of morning sweeter...
Are not the joys of morning sweetert
Than the joys of night
And are the vigrous joys of youth
Ashamed of the light
5 Let age & sickness silent rob
The vineyards in the night
But those who burn with vigrous youth
Pluck fruits before the light
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1793)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Silent, Silent Night
Silent, silent night,
Quench the holy light
Of thy torches bright;
For possessed of Day
Thousand spirits stray
That sweet joys betray.
Why should joys be sweet
Used with deceit,
Nor with sorrows meet?
But an honest joy
Does itself destroy
For a harlot coy.
poem by William Blake
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Silent Silent Night...
Silent Silent Night
Quench the holy light
Of thy torches bright
For possessd of Day
Thousand spirits stray
That sweet joys betray
Why should joys be sweet
Used with deceit
Nor with sorrows meet
But an honest joy
Does itself destroy
For a harlot coy
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1793)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Joys Of Christmas
I see all the tough guys still not 25
Dying on their feet
Coughing, honking, cadging cigarettes
And still out on the street
Well, they got no money, nowhere to go
Fathers of 2, 3 maybe 4, what are they gonna do
Jimmy got a busted mouth in a fight last night
He says hes ok
Going down to the workies club (thats a laugh)
To buy something strong and take the pain away
Joys of christmas
Joys of christmas
Northern style
Flashing christmas light of police blue
Go spinning down the street
Women try to drag the men from pubs
Into the stores
And work hands in empty pockets deep
We stand outside the neon ice and wish ourselves the best
He says hes ok, out of work and fighting
Is all hes ever known
And laughs and says I worry too much anyway
Joys of christmas
Joys of christmas
Northern style
Lets drink to the likes of jim
Before we all go insane
And please dont ask me why
Itll take too long to explain
Joys of christmas
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tears Of Amynta, For The Death Of Damon. A Song
1.
On a bank, beside a willow,
Heaven her covering, earth her pillow,
Sad Amynta sigh'd alone:
From the cheerless dawn of morning
Till the dews of night returning,
Singing thus she made her moan:
Hope is banish'd,
Joys are vanish'd,
Damon, my beloved, is gone!
2.
Time, I dare thee to discover
Such a youth and such a lover;
Oh, so true, so kind was he!
Damon was the pride of nature,
Charming in his every feature;
Damon lived alone for me;
Melting kisses,
Murmuring blisses:
Who so lived and loved as we?
3.
Never shall we curse the morning.
Never bless the night returning,
Sweet embraces to restore:
Never shall we both lie dying,
Nature failing, Love supplying
All the joys he drain'd before:
Death come end me,
To befriend me:
Love and Damon are no more
poem by John Dryden
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A Mournful One Am I
A mournful one am I, above whose head
A day of perfect bliss hath never past;
Whatever joys my soul have ravished,
Soon was the radiance of those joys o'ercast.
And none can show me that substantial pleasure
Which will not pass away like bloom from flowers;
Therefore, no more my heart such joys shall treasure,
Nor pine for fading sweets and fleeting hours.
poem by Walther von der Vogelweide
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Lines To Grief
COME Grief, and sing a solemn dirge
Beneath this midnight shade;
From central darkness now emerge,
And tread the lonely glade.
This is the cheerless hour of night,
For sorrow only made;
When no intrusive rays of light,
The silent gloom pervade.
Though such the darkness of my soul,
Not such the calmness there;
But waves of guilt tumultuous roll
'Midst billows of despair.
Fallacious Pleasure's tinsel train
My soul rejects with scorn;
If higher joys she can't attain,
She'd rather choose to mourn.
For bliss superior she was made;
Or for extreme despair;
If pain awaits her past the dead,
Why should she triumph here?
Tho' Reason points at good supreme,
Yet Grace must lead us thence
Must wake us from this pleasing dream,
The idle joys of Sense.
Surely I wish the blackest night
Of Nature to remain,
Till Christ arise with healing light,
Then welcome day again.
poem by Ann Eliza Bleecker
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To H.a.b. On My Forty-seventh Birthday
WHEN one is forty years and seven,
Is seven and forty sad years old,
He looks not onward for his Heaven,
The future is too blank and cold,
Its pale flowers smell of graveyard mould;
He looks back to his lifeful past;
If age is silver, youth is gold:-
Could youth but last, could youth but last!
He turns back toward his youthful past
A-throb with life and love and hope,
Whose long-dead joys in memory last,
Whose shining days had ample scope;
He turns and lingers on the slope
Whose dusk leads down to sightless death:-
The sun once crowned that darkening cope,
And song once thrilled this weary breath.
Ali, he plods wearily to death,
Adown the gloaming into night,
But other lives breathe joyous breath
In morning's boundless golden light;
Their feet are swift, their eyes are bright,
Their hearts beat rhythms of hope and love,
Their being is a pure delight
In earth below and heaven above.
And you have hope and joy and love,
And you have youth's abounding life,
Whose crystal currents flow above
The stones and sands of care and strife.
May all your years with joys be rifc,
May you grow calmly to your prime,
A maiden sweet, a cherished wife,
A happy mother in due time.
All good you wish me, past my prime,
I wish with better hope to you,
And richer blessings than old Time
And Fate or Fortune found my due:
For you are kind and good and true,
And so when you are forty-seven
May spouse and children in your view
Make Home the happiest life-long Heaven.
poem by James Thomson
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The Revival
1 Unfold! unfold! Take in His light,
2 Who makes thy cares more short than night.
3 The joys which with His day-star rise,
4 He deals to all but drowsy eyes;
5 And (what the men of this world miss)
6 Some drops and dews of future bliss.
7 Hark! how his winds have chang'd their note,
8 And with warm whispers call thee out.
9 The frosts are past, the storms are gone,
10 And backward life at last comes on.
11 The lofty groves in express joys
12 Reply unto the turtle's voice;
13 And here in dust and dirt, O here
14 The lilies of His love appear!
poem by Henry Vaughan
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Joys
There are some joys within this world,
which words can never express.
The miracle of witnessing the birth
of another human being.
The forever love of two in whom
no raging storms can ever part.
The holding in your hands
the carefully crafted book of your own.
These are just some of the joys
that there are no words to fully express.
They are feeling on you can feel
and joys only you know.
poem by David Harris
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Quand Meme
AGE pauses on his toilsome way
To let youth pluck her flowers of play;
Flowers are not always, but we may
Cut thorns and thistles any day.
Would Fate but hold her hand one hour,
Then might we pluck love's perfect flower;
Yet full security might miss
The perfume of one hour like this.
For all our joys are snatched from Fate,
Through years her ban makes desolate;
We wrest our love from doubt and fear,
And find it so more sweet, more dear.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Joy Of The Lord Is Your Strength
Joy is a fruit that will not grow
In nature's barren foil;
All we can boast, till Christ we know,
Is vanity and toil.
But where the Lord has planted grace;
And made his glories known;
There fruits of heavenly joy and peace
Are found, and there alone.
A bleeding Saviour seen by faith,
A sense of pard'ning love;
A hope that triumphs over death,
Give joys like those above.
To take a glimpse within the veil,
To know that God is mine;
Are springs of joy that never fail,
Unspeakably divine!
These are the joys which satisfy,
And sanctify the mind;
Which make the spirit mount on high,
And leave the world behind.
No more, believers, mourn your lot,
But if you are the Lord's
Resign to them that know him not,
Such joys as earth affords.
poem by John Newton
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A Birthday Poem for Ligaya
With joy you work,
With joy you talk,
Your joy puts others at ease,
Time with you they wouldn't miss.
I see your joy, when from Germany you come,
laying down your presents for me, one by one,
clothes, cosmetics, chocolates and cheese.
your choices always right, how come?
I sense your joy, when in turn, you see
my gifts of pink pearls custom-made for me,
'though they're used, your eyes shine brightly,
with Philippine-made bags, you receive them with glee.
You are joy
as Joy you are named
with kin and friend
your joy is shared.
You are in this lifetime as my sister born,
through ups and downs we've come,
verbal fights and silent wars long gone,
freely fond feelings fanned.
Your joys are my joys,
My joys are your joys,
May they flow endlessly
as we grow spiritually.
Happy birthday with all best wishes!
(For my sister, Ligaya (Joy), on her birthday-13 June/10: 40 P.M. 12 June 2007/Pasig City, Philippines)
poem by Joscephine Gomez
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Of joys and pleasing pains
Of joys and pleasing pains I late went singing,
O joys with pains! O pains with joys consenting!
And little thought as then of now repenting;
But now think of my then sweet bitter stinging,
All day long I my hands, alas! go wringing,
The baleful notes of which, my sad tormenting,
Are ruth and moan, frights, sobs, and loud lamenting,
From hills and dales, in my dull ears still ringing.
poem by John Wilbye
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Hymn 90
Youth and judgment.
Eccl. 11:9.
Lo! the young tribes of Adam rise,
And through all nature rove
Fulfil the wishes of their eyes,
And taste the joys they love.
They give a loose to wild desires;
But let the sinners know
The strict account that God requires
Of all the works they do.
The Judge prepares his throne on high,
The frighted earth and seas
Avoid the fury of his eye,
And flee before his face.
How shall I bear that dreadful day,
And stand the fiery test?
I give all mortal joys away,
To be for ever blessed.
poem by Isaac Watts
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As many joys as there are pains.
The mango tree gave me fruits and shades.
I was sad when I left.
The jack tree gave me fruits and shades.
I was sad when I left.
Likewise were a few more trees
That gave me different fruits and shades.
There are trees having given me shades.
I was sad when I left them in sequence.
Each sensation was punctuated by a stroke.
Each parting gave me a heart break.
Unions beget joys and partings, sorrows.
Sorrows follow because joys preceded.
The one who sticks to only one is unfortunate.
19.11.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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As many joys as there are sorrows.
The mango tree gave me fruits and shades.
I was sad when I left.
The jack tree gave me fruits and shades.
I was sad when I left.
Likewise were a few more trees
That gave me different fruits and shades.
There’re trees having given me only shades.
I was sad when I left them in sequence.
Each sensation was punctuated by a stroke.
Each parting gave me a heart break.
Unions beget joys and partings, sorrows.
Sorrows follow because joys preceded.
The one who sticks to one love is unfortunate.
19.11.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Cradle Song
Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,
Dreaming in the joys of night;
Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit and weep.
Sweet babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys and secret smiles,
Little pretty infant wiles.
As thy softest limbs I feel
Smiles as of the morning steal
O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast
Where thy little heart doth rest.
O the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep!
When thy little heart doth wake,
Then the dreadful night shall break.
poem by William Blake
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A Moment In Time
An Autumnal Moment
The autumn light has faded it is night now,
Heat lingers, melts the ice in my whisky.
This is the best time of the day and I will
Not think of tomorrow’s day.
The terrace is full of fallen flowers and
Only slowly they will blow away.
All traces of summer will be gone and
What’s left is a vague memory.
That once upon a time there was a spring,
Summer and endless joys of youth.
But I shall sleep easily in my bed as long as
I feel the good warmth of my lover.
And I will think how lucky I’m and hope
I will slip into the deepest sleep before her.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Earth's got a firelit navel
hidden in darkness revealed in the light
spreading wings over the Tower of Babel
torn down in ashes that it may grow
bespoken by silence that it may know
the joys of speech when all sounds reach
the highest point in all the wordles
the joys of speech when all sounds reach
the joints of crosswords over the hurdles
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Despondency
Come Grief, and sing a solemn dirge
Beneath this midnight shade;
From central darkness now emerge,
And tread the lonely glade.
Attend each mourning pow'r around,
While tears incessant flow;
Strike all your strings with doleful sound,
Till Grief melodious grow.
This is the cheerless hour of night,
For sorrow only made,
When no intrusive ray of light
The silent glooms pervade.
Tho' such the darkness of my soul,
Not such the calmness there,
But waves of guilt tumultuous roll
'Midst billows of despair.
Fallacious Pleasure's tinsel train
My soul rejects with scorn;
If higher joys she can't attain,
She'd rather chuse to mourn
For bliss superior she was made,
Or for extreme despair:
If pain awaits her past the dead
Why should she triumph here?
Tho' Reason points at good supreme,
Yet Grace must lead us thence;
Must wake us from this pleasing dream,
The idle joys of Sense.
Surely I wish the blackest night
Of Nature to remain,
'Till Christ arise with healing light,
Then welcome day again.
poem by Ann Eliza Bleecker from The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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