En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The camper

Night 'neath the northern skies, lone, black, and grim:
Naught but the starlight lies 'twixt heaven, and him.

Of man no need has he, of God, no prayer;
He and his Deity are brothers there.

Above his bivouac the firs fling down
Through branches gaunt and black, their needles brown.

Afar some mountain streams, rockbound and fleet,
Sing themselves through his dreams in cadence sweet,

The pine trees whispering, the heron's cry,
The plover's passing wing, his lullaby.

And blinking overhead the white stars keep
Watch o'er his hemlock bed--his sinless sleep.

poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lullaby of the iroquois

Little brown baby-bird, lapped in your nest,
Wrapped in your nest,
Strapped in your nest,
Your straight little cradle-board rocks you to rest;
Its hands are your nest;
Its bands are your nest;
It swings from the down-bending branch of the oak;
You watch the camp flame, and the curling grey smoke;
But, oh, for your pretty black eyes sleep is best,--
Little brown baby of mine, go to rest.

Little brown baby-bird swinging to sleep,
Winging to sleep,
Singing to sleep,
Your wonder-black eyes that so wide open keep,
Shielding their sleep,
Unyielding to sleep,
The heron is homing, the plover is still,
The night-owl calls from his haunt on the hill,
Afar the fox barks, afar the stars peep,--
Little brown baby of mine, go to sleep.

poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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A Lullaby

The stars are twinkling in the skies,
The earth is lost in slumbers deep;
So hush, my sweet, and close thine eyes,
And let me lull thy soul to sleep.
Compose thy dimpled hands to rest,
And like a little birdling lie
Secure within thy cozy nest
Upon my loving mother breast,
And slumber to my lullaby,
So hushaby--O hushaby.

The moon is singing to a star
The little song I sing to you;
The father sun has strayed afar,
As baby's sire is straying too.
And so the loving mother moon
Sings to the little star on high;
And as she sings, her gentle tune
Is borne to me, and thus I croon
For thee, my sweet, that lullaby
Of hushaby--O hushaby.

There is a little one asleep
That does not hear his mother's song;
But angel watchers--as I weep--
Surround his grave the night-tide long.
And as I sing, my sweet, to you,
Oh, would the lullaby I sing--
The same sweet lullaby he knew
While slumb'ring on this bosom too--
Were borne to him on angel's wing!
So hushaby--O hushaby.

poem by Eugene Field
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Cream Of Love

I am a black mountain standing up high,
And you need me on this love;
Because, i will make you climb uo so high to see the world!

I am a black mountain and i have the right cream of love for you,
And you will see me better in the night than ever!
So come to this black mountain and see things for yourself.

Oh my sweet Princess, come for this cream of love;
For you are the most beautiful lady that i have ever met.
Come to this black mountain and let me visit your palace too,
For your dreams will always be in my sleep.

Come on top of this black mountain,
For it is very cold at night;
But i will warm you up with the sweet blanket of love.

Come my sweet Princess,
For you are the only one who really means much to me;
And i will keep the sweet cream of love for you only.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Regeneration

The pine needles covered the ground like a carpet
and their fragrance was all around.
The pinecones scattered here and there
punctuated the ground.
The firs were thick, stately and tall
and had grown for many a year.
They grew with the company of each other
and it did appear
that all of the forest creatures
whether large or small
were content to see the pine needles
continuously fall.
All seemed peaceful and quiet
on the forest floor,
until the animals sensed a danger.
Then there came a roar.
Most feared by all the fir trees
a spark had created a flame
and as the animals ran for their life,
nothing was the same.
The fire spread and one by one
the firs were engulfed by smoke.
Unable to breathe, they stood their ground
and silently did choke.
Consumed by a blazing fire
they quietly went to sleep.
The sweet pine aroma was absent
and into the air did creep
a sorrow for all of the trees that died
that once had stood so high.
The rain that came to cleanse the ground
was a gift to them from the sky.
For they would begin to grow again
from the rain and sun that shone.
The firs would grow and regenerate
and then would come the cone.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Daybreak in Alabama

When I get to be a composer
I'm gonna write me some music about
Daybreak in Alabama
And I'm gonna put the purtiest songs in it
Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist
And falling out of heaven like soft dew.
I'm gonna put some tall tall trees in it
And the scent of pine needles
And the smell of red clay after rain
And long red necks
And poppy colored faces
And big brown arms
And the field daisy eyes
Of black and white black white black people
And I'm gonna put white hands
And black hands and brown and yellow hands
And red clay earth hands in it
Touching everybody with kind fingers
And touching each other natural as dew
In that dawn of music when I
Get to be a composer
And write about daybreak
In Alabama.

poem by Langston Hughes
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Black Swan

(1947) gian carlo menotti
The sun is falling and it lies in blood
The moon is weaving bandages of gold
Old black swan where oh where is my lover now
Where oh where is my lover now
Torn and tattered is my bridal gown and my lamp is lost
With silver needles and with silver threads
The stars stitch a route for the dying sun
Old black swan where oh where is my lover now
I had given him a kiss and a golden ring
And a golden ring
I had given him a kiss of fire and a golden ring
Oh with silver needles and with silver threads
The stars stitch a route for the dying sun
Black wing o black wing take me down with you
Take me down with you take me down with you
Take me down with you
Old black swan take me down with you
I had given him a kiss of fire
Take me down with you

song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lake Louise

Bluer than Helen's eyes she lies
Under the blue cloud-drifting skies;
A daughter fair of light and air
Dropped among warrior mountains there.

White glaciers kiss her feet so fleet—
Oh fugitive, too rare and sweet!
Will she not fling them off that cling,
And rise, a bluebird on the wing?

Will she not rise and stray away,
A blue gleam on the brow of day?
Look—still she stays, and bright, snow-white,
The glaciers guard her day and night!

poem by Harriet Monroe
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See Off This Mountain

Shes a blue ridge cradle  shes a mother to some  and home to the laughter  of road weary ones  so well sing all the old songs  sing to grandmama road  and well sing cause we miss her 
Were sad she had to go  if I could see off this mountain  through the clouds in my eyes  I would see off this mountain  on the nights stars fell  and see off this mountain  through the te
N my eyes  I would see off this mountain  and the stars fell from the skies  in the air I hear a fiddle  down along hickory way  and the mandolin guitar  like we used to play  and down on
s rock  brothers boasting a dare  we tell them theyre crazy  and pretend we dont care  if I could see off this mountain  through the clouds in my eyes  I would see off this mountain  o
Nights stars fell  and see off this mountain  through the tears in my eyes  I would see off this mountain  and the stars fell from the skies  the air tastes like moonshine in the wind a ca
>
Ival tune  it soars with our laughter  but well all leave too soon  so I raise a toast to family  put thanks in my glass  in the arms of your loved ones  its the only home that lasts  i
Ould see off this mountain  through the clouds in my eyes  I would see off this mountain  on the night the stars fell  and see off this mountain  through the tears in my eyes  I could see
His mountain  when the stars fell from the skies  when the stars fell from the skies  going up to grandmama road  going up to grandmama road  Im happy as can be  cause cant you see  i
Ng up to grandmama road

song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lullaby

Lets go out tonight
Put on your shoes
Get away from here
Far from the local blues
Lets go out tonight
Lets make our escape
From the city lights
And all the familiar shapes
We can drive all night
We can stop in a field
Hear the starlight
Traveling for millions of years
Sing a lullaby to the night (repeat)
We can rock and roll
We can dance all night long
To the stars above
And we wont be strong
We can walk away
To the rising dawn
As people go to work
Wondering why our clothes are torn
Sing a lullaby to the night (repeat)
Well be driving through the mountains
In the cool and clearing air
With the sunlight on the ocean
And the diamonds in your hair
And as youre falling asleep
I will sing you a lullaby
Sing your lullaby (repeat)
We can find a place
For the sun and the rain
We can live a life
Like a hurricane
On a mountain top
Or right by the sea
As long as were together
It dont matter to me
Lets go out tonight
Lets escape
Sing your lullaby (repeat)
As the perfumes of the evening
Mingle sweetly with the night
Well lay ourselves down
In the light of the moon
And well hold each other tight
And as youre falling asleep
I will sing you a lullaby

song performed by by Wang Chung
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Birds' Lullaby

I

Sing to us, cedars; the twilight is creeping
With shadowy garments, the wilderness through;
All day we have carolled, and now would be sleeping,
So echo the anthems we warbled to you;
While we swing, swing,
And your branches sing,
And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.

II

Sing to us, cedars; the night-wind is sighing,
Is wooing, is pleading, to hear you reply;
And here in your arms we are restfully lying,
And longing to dream to your soft lullaby;
While we swing, swing,
And your branches sing,
And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.

III

Sing to us, cedars; your voice is so lowly,
Your breathing so fragrant, your branches so strong;
Our little nest-cradles are swaying so slowly,
While zephyrs are breathing their slumberous song.
And we swing, swing,
While your branches sing,
And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.

poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Will Of A Lover

Cover the ground with snow and white
Bury the town in soft moonlight
Watch the buildings flee from sight
On a lovers night

Chase the flakes with a windy blow
Wave them where they always go
Deep in wooded forest hollow
Where the trees dance slow

Lay us here, just her and I
Neath the snow and a lovers sky
Neath the snowflakes passing by
While lonely dies

Then let the trees and the moonlight sing
Let the snow and the cold wind bring
These flowers and stones to form a ring
And know that love’s not ending

Then bury us, just her and I
Neath the snow and a lovers sky
Neath the footfalls passing by
While lonely dies

poem by Ben Paynter
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Twilight In The North

O THE long northern twilight between the day and the night,
When the heat and the weariness of the world are ended quite:
When the hills grow dim as dreams, and the crystal river seems
Like that River of Life from out the Throne where the blessèd walk in white.

O the weird northern twilight, which is neither night nor day,
When the amber wake of the long-set sun still marks his western way:
And but one great golden star in the deep blue east afar
Warns of sleep, and dark, and midnight--of oblivion and decay.

O the calm northern twilight, when labor is all done,
And the birds in drowsy twitter have dropped silent one by one:
And nothing stirs or sighs in mountains, waters, skies,--
Earth sleeps--but her heart waketh, till the rising of the sun.

O the sweet, sweet twilight, just before the time of rest,
When the black clouds are driven away, and the stormy winds suppressed:
And the dead day smiles so bright, filling earth and heaven with light,--
You would think 't was dawn come back again--but the light is in the west.

O the grand solemn twilight, spreading peace from pole to pole!--
Ere the rains sweep o'er the hillsides, and the waters rise and roll,
In the lull and the calm, come, O angel with the palm--
In the still norther twilight, Azrael, take my soul.

poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Horse Head Fiddle

i look for him in everywhere
in everywhere i found him not
exhausted i sleep in steppe
in the dream my gray horse spoke to me
find me neath the killing cliff
find me neath the killing cliff
hang my skull on the old larch tree
carve from its wood a two string fiddle
cover over with the skin of my face
string my hair down the neck in place
weave together anger and grief
bow down bow down and sing
i will return through you
strong and gray on mountain high
his black and white faces go running by
strong and gray on mountain high
he come with herd black faces wild

song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Taps

Day is done,
gone the sun,
From the hills,
from the lake,
From the sky.
All is well,
safely rest,
God is nigh.

Go to sleep,
peaceful sleep,
May the soldier
or sailor,
God keep.
On the land
or the deep,
Safe in sleep.

Love, good night,
Must thou go,
When the day,
And the night
Need thee so?
All is well.
Speedeth all
To their rest.

Fades the light;
And afar
Goeth day,
And the stars
Shineth bright,
Fare thee well;
Day has gone,
Night is on.

Thanks and praise,
For our days,
'Neath the sun,
'Neath the stars,
'Neath the sky,
As we go,
This we know,
God is nigh.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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Sleep, sleep, my sweet one sleep

Sleep, sleep, my sweet one sleep
Let the film of Morpheus come
Like a veiled mist
And visit your eye-lids
And in the airs around
Invisible a sweet sylph sings
A lulling lullaby.

Sleep, sleep, my sweet one sleep
And woes forget and ills
And wrongs and plots
And treacheries:
Like a veiled mist
Dreams are falling through
Falling
Falling
Falling thro’ your eye-lids thick
With the lead of Morpheus awhile
A sylph doth sing
A lulling lullaby.

Sleep, sleep, my sweet one sleep
And think of day and night
And dusk and dawn
And even
As one film images pass
Along your eyes a-dreaming
a-dreaming
A-dreaming
Awhile
A sylph doth sing
A lulling lullaby.

poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Black Mountain Blues

Old black mountain
Tried to spit in your face
Old black mountain
Tried to spit in your face
Babys grubbing whiskey
Oh shes practising ? ? ?
Old black mountain
Mean as they can be
Old black mountain
Mean as they can be
They use ground butter
Just to sweeten the tea
Had a girl in black mountain
Sweetest girl in town
Had a girl in black mountain
Sweetest girl in town
But she met a sweet black man
Then she threw me down
Well, old black mountain
Cant keep man in jail
Well, old black mountain
Cant keep man in jail
Sure to call him guilty
Judge will cry and bail
Im bound for black mountain
Me and my razor and my gun
Im bound for black mountain
Me and my razor and my gun
Gonna cut her if she stands there
And shoot her if she runs

song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dixie Lullaby (feat. Bruce Hornsby)

Clint Black & Bruce Hornsby
(Leon Russell - Chris Stainton)
Why don't you gather round me people, got a song to sing
About that sweet magnolia thyme
Black-eyed Susan made some catfish stew
And papa brought some homemade wine.
All you southern children like to rock'n roll
The TV mamas tell you why
They got it on the boat from Africa
It's that Dixie Lullaby.
Well, Blind Willie Time he had a dime shoe shine
Stand down on Beale Street
And Willie would stop and just to say hello
All the shoes he'd meet.
Why are you so happy said the clean white buck
You got no reason to be happy Mr Time
And Willie would stop and just pop his rag
With a Dixie Lullaby.
--- Instrumental ---
So now you know the story of my southern home
With a honeysuckle wine
And if you ever think that you might come yourself
You ought to keep this thought in mind.
All you easy riders better watch you step
And if you're walkin' down below the line
That Louisiana man is gonna get you yet
With his Dixie Lullaby.
He's got a Dixie Lullaby.
He's got a Dixie Lullaby...

song performed by by Clint Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Red Light

Sitting in traffic on the Tappan Zee
Fifty million people out in front of me
Trying to cross the water but it just might be a while
Rain's coming down I can't see a thing
Radio's broken so I'm whistling
New York to Nyack feels like a hundred miles
It's not right
It's not fair
I'm still a mess
And you still don't care
I go to work
I come back home
But you're still gone
And I'm still alone
And the little red light's not blinking
No, no the little red light's not blinking
No, no the little red light's not blinking
On my big black plastic Japanese cordless phone
Oh no
Stuck in a meeting on Monday night
Trying to get the numbers to come out right
I'm getting tired, I think I just might need a drink
And as I'm reaching in the bottom drawer
I'm dreaming 'bout the way it was before
Life was so easy I never really had to think
It's not right
It's not fair
I'm still a mess
And you still don't care
I go to sleep
When I wake up
The pain sets in
And it never stops
And the little red light's not blinking
No, no the little red light's not blinking
No, no the little red light's not blinking
On the desktop mailbox of my big black laptop
Oh no
It's not right
It's not fair
I'm still a mess
And you still don't care
I go to work
I come back home
But you're still gone
And I'm still alone
And the little red light's not blinking
No, no the little red light's not blinking
No, no the little red light's not blinking
On my big black Radio Shack digital portable phone
Oh no

song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Thaw

Overhead-passes spit contemptuously at passing cars.
Power lines emerge from dripping silver cocoons.

Black bark peeks through the ice like worn silver plate.
Pine trees, released of their white cargo lift up their arms like schoolboys at recess.

Winter’s dirty secrets are revealed.

February 2003

poem by Jane Brunton
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Lone Pine

Lone Pine! Lone Pine! Our hearts are numbly aching
For those who come no more,
Our boys who sleep the sleep that knows no waking,
Besides the Dardan’s shore.
Through all the years, with glory sad and sombre,
Their names will deathless shine;
No bugle call can wake them from their slumber:
Lone Pine! Lone Pine!
They did not quail, they did not pause or ponder,
They counted not the odds;
The order came, the foe were waiting yonder,
The rest was with the gods.
Forth from their trenches at the signal leaping,
They charged the Turkish line,
And death charged too, a royal harvest reaping,
Lone Pine! Lone Pine!
Nought could withstand that onrush, backward
driven,
The foemen broke and fled.

poem by Edward Harrington
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