Ethiopia
Yes, Ethiopia yet shall stretch
Her bleeding hands abroad;
Her cry of agony shall reach
The burning throne of God.
The tyrant's yoke from off her neck,
His fetters from her soul,
The mighty hand of God shall break
And spurn the base control.
Redeemed from dust, and freed from chains,
Her sons shall lift their eyes;
From lofty hills and verdant plains
Shall shouts of triumph rise.
Upon the dark, despairing brow
Shall play a smile of peace;
For God shall bend unto her woe,
And bid her sorrows cease.
'Neath sheltering vines and stately palms
Shall laughing children play;
And aged sires, with joyous psalms,
Shall gladden every day.
Secure by night and blest by day,
Shall pass her happy hours;
Within her peaceful bowers.
Thy bleeding hands abroad;
Thy cry of agony shall reach
And find the throne of God.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
See Who I Am
Is It True What They Say
Are We To Blind To Find A Way
Fear Of The Unknown
Cloud Our Hearts Today
Come Into My World
See Through My Eyes
Try To Understand
Don't Wanna Lose What We Have
We've Been Dreaming
For Who Can't Deny
It's The Best Way Of Living
Between The Truth And The Lies
Chorus
See Who I Am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A Way
The World Is In Our Hands
This Is Not The End
Fear Is Withering The Soul
At The Point Of No Return
We Must Be The Change We Wish To See
I'll Come Into Your World
See Through Your Eyes
I'll Try To Understand
Before We Lose What We Have
We Just Can't Stop Believing
Because We Have To Try
We Can Rise Above The Truth And The Lies
Chorus
See Who I Am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A Way
The World Is In Our Hands
See Who I am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A way
The World Is In Our Hands
This Is Not The End
Hear The Silence
Reach Out My Blame
Will Our Strength Remain?
If The Power Rise
Chorus
See Who I Am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A Way
The World Is In Our Hands
See Who I Am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A Way
The World Is In Our Hands
This Is Not The End
song performed by by Within Temptation
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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See Who I Am
Is It True What They Say
Are We To Blind To Find A Way
Fear Of The Unknown
Cloud Our Hearts Today
Come Into My World
See Through My Eyes
Try To Understand
Don't Wanna Lose What We Have
We've Been Dreaming
For Who Can't Deny
It's The Best Way Of Living
Between The Truth And The Lies
Chorus
See Who I Am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A Way
The World Is In Our Hands
This Is Not The End
Fear Is Withering The Soul
At The Point Of No Return
We Must Be The Change We Wish To See
I'll Come Into Your World
See Through Your Eyes
I'll Try To Understand
Before We Lose What We Have
We Just Can't Stop Believing
Because We Have To Try
We Can Rise Above The Truth And The Lies
Chorus
See Who I Am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A Way
The World Is In Our Hands
See Who I am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A way
The World Is In Our Hands
This Is Not The End
Hear The Silence
Reach Out My Blame
Will Our Strength Remain?
If The Power Rise
Chorus
See Who I Am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A Way
The World Is In Our Hands
See Who I Am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A Way
The World Is In Our Hands
This Is Not The End
song performed by by Within Temptation
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bleeding
Bleeding from eyes,
And bleeding from my heart-
I don't care …..
But I do dare.
I took the revolution as an inseparable part in my life.
I was placed under the custody.
But I never felt humble myself, and I will not lose my agony.
I fight for my friends, my ‘LOUTISH FRIENDS'-
And I will be fighting for them until the system will be allowed to become balanced.
You see, I always keep my patience.
But don't try to fidget me.
Don't try to aggravate my revolutionary sense.
The tyrant crown will be diminished.
They must retrocede.
You will see a reversal (a new era) .
You will welcome it.
But bleeding…..
Yes, this is a gladsome bleeding.
This is an inviolate, but an irresistible bleeding.
poem by Bibhakar Dutta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beautiful River
And he showed me a pure River of Water of Life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the Throne of God and of the Lamb." -- Rev. xxii. 1
Shall we gather at the river
Where bright angel feet have trod;
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?
CHORUS.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
On the margin of the river,
Washing up its silver spray,
We will walk and worship ever,
All the happy, golden day.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
On the bosom of the river,
Where the Saviour-king we own,
We shall meet, and sorrow never
'Neath the glory of the throne. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
Ere we reach the shining river,
Lay we every burden down;
Grace our spirits will deliver,
And provide a robe and crown. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
At the smiling of the river,
Rippling with the Saviour's face,
Saints, whom death will never sever,
Lift their songs of saving grace. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
Soon we'll reach the shining river,
Soon our pilgrimage will cease,
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
With the melody of peace. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hemorrhage
Hemorrhage (In My Hands)"
memories are just where you laid them
drag the waters 'till the depths give up their dead
what did you expect to find?
was there something you left behind?
don't you remember anything i said when i said
don't fall away, and leave me to myself
don't fall away and leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands again
leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands
love lies bleeding
oh hold me now i feel contagious
am i the only place that you've left to go
she cries her life is like
some movie black and white
dead actors faking lines
over and over and over again she cries
don't fall away, and leave me to myself
dont fall away, and leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands again
leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands
love lies bleeding
and i wanted
you turned away
you don't remember, but i do
you never even tried
don't fall away and leave me to myself
don't fall away and leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands again
leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands
love lies bleeding
song performed by by Fuel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Chase
Quick, fly to the covert, thou hunted of men!
For the bloodhounds are baying o'er mountain and glen;
The riders are mounted, the loose rein is given,
And curses of wrath are ascending to heaven.
O, speed to thy footsteps! for ruin and death,
Like the hurricane's rage, gather thick round thy path;
And the deep muttered curses grow loud and more loud,
As horse after horse swells the thundering crowd.
Speed, speed, to thy footsteps! thy track has been found;
Now,
sport
for the
rider
, and
blood
for the
hound!
Through brake and through forest the man-prey is driven;
O, help for the hopeless, thou merciful Heaven!
On! on to the mountain! they're baffled again,
And hope for the woe-stricken still may remain;
The fast-flagging steeds are all white with their foam,
The bloodhounds have turned from the chase to their home.
Joy! joy to the wronged one! the haven he gains,
Escaped from his thraldom, and freed from his chains!
The heaven-stamped image-the God-given soul-
No more shall the spoiler at pleasure control.
O, shame to Columbia, that on her bright plains,
Man pines in his fetters, and curses his chains!
Shame! shame! that her star-spangled banner should wave
Where the lash is made red in the blood of the slave.
Sons of old Pilgrim Fathers! and are ye thus dumb?
Shall tyranny triumph, and freedom succumb?
While mothers are torn from their children apart,
And agony sunders the cords of the heart?
Shall the sons of those sires that once spurned the chain,
Turn bloodhounds to hunt and make captive again?
O, shame to your honor, and shame to your pride,
And shame on your memory ever abide!
Will not your old sires start up from the ground,
At the crack of the whip, and bay of the hound,
And shaking their skeleton hands in your face,
Curse the germs that produced such a miscreant race?
O, rouse ye for freedom, before on your path
Heaven pours without mixture the vials of wrath!
Loose every hard burden-break off every chain-
Restore to the bondman his freedom again.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Castle Gordon
Streams that glide in orient plains,
Never bound by Winter’s chains;
Glowing here on golden sands,
There immix’d with foulest stains
From Tyranny’s empurpled hands;
These, their richly gleaming waves,
I leave to tyrants and their slaves;
Give me the stream that sweetly laves
The banks by Castle Gordon.
Spicy forests, ever gray,
Shading from the burning ray
Hapless wretches sold to toil;
Or the ruthless native’s way,
Bent on slaughter, blood, and spoil:
Woods that ever verdant wave,
I leave the tyrant and the slave;
Give me the groves that lofty brave
The storms by Castle Gordon.
Wildly here, without control,
Nature reigns and rules the whole;
In that sober pensive mood,
Dearest to the feeling soul,
She plants the forest, pours the flood:
Life’s poor day I’ll musing rave
And find at night a sheltering cave,
Where waters flow and wild woods wave,
By bonie Castle Gordon.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Strong Mind and a Gentle Heart
I was on top of the mountain looking down,
There you were, stuck on the ground,
In life I had it all, never had to crawl,
If there was beauty, it was all around me,
Sunset glowing against a purple sky,
Why did I feel like I had to cry?
I saw your hand waving down below,
In my throat a lump began to grow,
The pain in my heart knew,
I have been missing you!
So where to now?
What will Grace allow?
You struggle up towards me,
Trying to break free from the hands,
Hands that hold you back,
Hoping that you will crack,
With a strong mind and gentle heart,
The dark will never keep us apart!
Deep runs my pain as I see your tears,
Your love greater than my fears,
You shine your light into my mind,
Shadows caused by my delusions,
Reflections of great confusion,
I wonder where will we meet?
Should I go down to the streets?
Will you make it on your own?
I just don't want to be alone!
With battered hands and bleeding heart,
Your strong mind shouts out loud,
Breaking free from the crowd,
You reach out to free my soul,
To tear the pain from a sad man,
A leap of faith spreads hope across the land,
Despite my doubts I need to see you,
Reaching down I lift you up,
Together we drink from His cup,
Was I your inspiration or you my consolation?
The crowds sense the moment, feel the grace,
As I reach out and touch your face!
13 May 2012
poem by David Andre' Klopper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Psalm 143
Complaint of heavy afflictions in mind and body.
My righteous Judge, my gracious God,
Hear when I spread my hands abroad,
And cry for succor from thy throne;
O make thy truth and mercy known!
Let judgment not against me pass;
Behold, thy servant pleads thy grace:
Should justice call us to thy bar,
No man alive is guiltless there.
Look down in pity, Lord, and see
The mighty woes that burden me;
Down to the dust my life is brought,
Like one long buried and forgot.
I dwell in darkness and unseen,
My heart is desolate within
My thoughts in musing silence trace
The ancient wonders of thy grace.
Thence I derive a glimpse of hope
To bear my sinking spirits up;
I stretch my hands to God again,
And thirst like parched lands for rain
For thee I thirst, I pray, I mourn:
When will thy smiling face return?
Shall all my joys on earth remove?
And God for ever hide his love?
My God, thy long delay to save
Will sink thy pris'ner to the grave;
My heart grows faint, and dim mine eye;
Make haste to help before I die.
The night is witness to my tears,
Distressing pains, distressing fears;
O might I hear thy morning voice,
How would my wearied powers rejoice!
In thee I trust, to thee I sigh,
And lift my heavy soul on high;
For thee sit waiting all the day,
And wear the tiresome hours away.
Break off my fetters, Lord, and show
Which is the path my feet should go;
If snares and foes beset the road,
I flee to hide me near my God.
Teach me to do thy holy will,
And lead me to thy heav'nly hill;
Let the good Spirit of thy love
Conduct me to thy courts above.
Then shall my soul no more complain,
The tempter then shall rage in vain;
And flesh, that was my foe before,
Shall never vex my spirit more.
poem by Isaac Watts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To A Buddha Seated On A Lotus
LORD BUDDHA, on thy Lotus-throne,
With praying eyes and hands elate,
What mystic rapture dost thou own,
Immutable and ultimate?
What peace, unravished of our ken,
Annihilate from the world of men?
The wind of change for ever blows
Across the tumult of our way,
To-morrow's unborn griefs depose
The sorrows of our yesterday.
Dream yields to dream, strife follows strife,
And Death unweaves the webs of Life.
For us the travail and the heat,
The broken secrets of our pride,
The strenuous lessons of defeat,
The flower deferred, the fruit denied;
But not the peace, supremely won,
Lord Buddha, of thy Lotus-throne.
With futile hands we seek to gain
Our inaccessible desire,
Diviner summits to attain,
With faith that sinks and feet that tire;
But nought shall conquer or control
The heavenward hunger of our soul.
The end, elusive and afar,
Still lures us with its beckoning flight,
And all our mortal moments are
A session of the Infinite.
How shall we reach the great, unknown
Nirvana of thy Lotus-throne?
poem by Sarojini Naidu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Freedom XIV
And an orator said, "Speak to us of Freedom."
And he answered:
At the city gate and by your fireside I have seen you prostrate yourself and worship your own freedom,
Even as slaves humble themselves before a tyrant and praise him though he slays them.
Ay, in the grove of the temple and in the shadow of the citadel I have seen the freest among you wear their freedom as a yoke and a handcuff.
And my heart bled within me; for you can only be free when even the desire of seeking freedom becomes a harness to you, and when you cease to speak of freedom as a goal and a fulfillment.
You shall be free indeed when your days are not without a care nor your nights without a want and a grief,
But rather when these things girdle your life and yet you rise above them naked and unbound.
And how shall you rise beyond your days and nights unless you break the chains which you at the dawn of your understanding have fastened around your noon hour?
In truth that which you call freedom is the strongest of these chains, though its links glitter in the sun and dazzle the eyes.
And what is it but fragments of your own self you would discard that you may become free?
If it is an unjust law you would abolish, that law was written with your own hand upon your own forehead.
You cannot erase it by burning your law books nor by washing the foreheads of your judges, though you pour the sea upon them.
And if it is a despot you would dethrone, see first that his throne erected within you is destroyed.
For how can a tyrant rule the free and the proud, but for a tyranny in their own freedom and a shame in their won pride?
And if it is a care you would cast off, that care has been chosen by you rather than imposed upon you.
And if it is a fear you would dispel, the seat of that fear is in your heart and not in the hand of the feared.
Verily all things move within your being in constant half embrace, the desired and the dreaded, the repugnant and the cherished, the pursued and that which you would escape.
These things move within you as lights and shadows in pairs that cling.
And when the shadow fades and is no more, the light that lingers becomes a shadow to another light.
And thus your freedom when it loses its fetters becomes itself the fetter of a greater freedom.
poem by Khalil Gibran
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bleeding Wrist
Another time has come
For me to cut my wrist again
You left me in the dust
Said I was cheating
But I never was
You had my only heart and
You broke it again
My wrist are bleeding because of you
You broke me down until I was nothing
More than a memory of your Raping Dream
Caught in the middle
Of a terrible nightmare
Bleeding with broken pain
Caught inside this fog of fear
Listening to your voice
Which was once soothing to me
Time and time again is but
Just now a memory
Of you and the warmth of your hands
Pain and pain
Of agony once again
Bleeding wrist of concurrent pain
Everlost, Part I
Lights are dim
My tearful windows
Through wich no emotions pass
Starvation of senses claws my soul
Answer me
Are these walls my only shelter
From the bleeding atmosphere
Take me from this land
"I deliver thee from this agony
A storm to cleanse thee"
Mine is the right to be
Maelstrom of the everlost
This is the curse of ...
All is dark
All but one aspect of life
To be shaceled
In a shell, so misleading
"These are the shells bestowed upon me"
Pass into the darkened of the midnight
Sounds, faceless lights
Hands tear apart
Disolve possess
You alone can take my soul
Take flight
song performed by by In Flames
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where My Plight And Labor In Vain
Where my plight and labor in vain…
Night stretch, stretch again…
Daylight and dreams abroad…
Sleep’s urge, tire retire…
Grant me a muse or amuse…
That night cease, else its turmoil
Enliven the earthly delight, heaven’s design…
Draw close the day…
Or oh! Magnificent eyes cast upon me your sight…
With your grandeur I rise
Fall upon earth’s humble bed…
Wake again to tread…
On Thine footsteps divine…
Holy flight
Early hours of light…
Ablution of soul…
Never before
Steps so firm…
As I follow thee
Tireless toil…
Now it seems…
For all that it was…
poem by Lama Abbas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Look Heart, No Hands
I remember how it used to feel
Riding down old two mile hill
Tennis shoes up on the handle bars
Paying no mind to the passing cars
No doubts, no fears, just like when you are here
Chorus:
No chains, no strings, no fences, no wall
No net, just you to catch me when I fall
Look heart, no hands.
It took a little time to get up to speed
To find the confidence and strength I need
To just let go and reach for the sky
You know sometimes it felt I could fly.
No doubts, no fears, just like when you are here.
Chorus
It doesnt take much, just a smile or a touch
And Im a kid again, I can almost feel that wind
Look heart, no hands then play full chord to end
Jason a. wendtland
On the other hand - randy travis
On one hand I count the reasons I could stay with you
And hold you close to me, all night long.
So many lovers games I could play with you
And on that hand I see no reason why its wrong
Chorus:
But on the other hand, theres a golden band
To remind of someone who would not understand
On one hand I could stay and be your loving man
But the reason I must go is on the other hand
In your arms I feel the passion, I thought had died
When I looked into your eyes I found myself
When I first kissed your lips I felt so alive
Ive got to hand it to you girl, youre something else
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wrong Child
Ive watched the children come and go
A late long march into spring
I sit and watch those children
Jump in the tall grass
Leap the sprinkler
Walk in the ground
Bicycle clothespin spokes
The sound the smell of swingset hands
I will try to sing a happy song
Ill try and make a happy game to play
Come play with me I whispered to my new found friend
Tell me what its like to go outside
Ive never been
Tell me what its like to just go outside
Ive never been
And I never will
Im not supposed to be like this
Im not supposed to be like this
But its okay
Hey those kids are looking at me
I told my friend myself
Those kids are looking at me
Theyre laughing and theyre running over here
Theyre laughing and theyre running over here
What do I do?
What can I do?
What should I do?
What do I say?
What can I say?
I said Im not supposed to be like this
Lets try to find a happy game to play
Lets try to find a happy game to play
Im not supposed to be like this
But its okay...okay
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forevermore
[verse 1]
Oh, God, in Your perfection You love confounds the wise
Sinners are made heroes, and the humble lifted high
Unchained hearts are singing out
Songs that reach the sky
[chorus]
Lift up your eyes to the One who reigns
Lift up your hands, oh sweet surrender it brings
Forevermore, You are holy
Forevermore, You are worthy
[verse 2]
In Your light we see light, in Your eyes we shine
You give strength and justice, and the broken are made right
Sinners, saints and angels sing
Song that reach the sky
[chorus]
Lift up your eyes to the One who reigns
Lift up your hands, oh sweet surrender it brings
Forevermore, You are holy
Forevermore, You are worthy
[bridge]
All my life, all that I hope
It rests inside Your plan
Your love, Your grace, Your truth alone
Forevermore will stand
You have called me Your redeemed
And hidden me in the shadow of Your wings
[chorus]
Lift up your eyes to the One who reigns
Lift up your hands, oh sweet surrender it brings
Forevermore, You are holy
Forevermore, You are worthy
Peace like a river
Joy like a fountain flows wherever You go
song performed by by ZoeGirl
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Closing
STEP BACK INSIDE THE LIE AGAIN
YOU'LL FIND YOU'RE WEARING THIN
KILLING THE SYMPATHY AS YOU TAKE ANOTHER SWING AT ME
NOW FIGHTING YOUR INNER SELF AGAIN
LOSING TO WHAT YOU FEEL
SHIELDED BEHIND THE LIES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL REAL
NOW IT'S OVER AND I DON'T FEEL A THING
BUT YOU'RE TRYING TO BREAK THE SCAR AGAIN
YOUR SPIRIT IS BLEEDING AS YOU GRIN
BUT YOUR BRIDGE KEEPS ON BURNING AT BOTH ENDS
IN YOUR MIND
THE ENDING SEEMS TO BE SO FAR FROM WHAT YOU NEED
TAKE BACK THE MEMORIES AS YOU SMILE TO HIDE THE PAIN FROM ME
NOW SHUT DOWN THE CURIOSITY THAT BRINGS YOU HERE AGAIN
NO SENSE OF PURITY AS YOU TRY TO TAKE THE LIFE FROM ME NOW
IT'S OVER AND I DON'T FEEL A THING
BUT YOU'RE TRYING TO BREAK THE SCAR AGAIN
YOUR SPIRIT IS BLEEDING AS YOU GRIN
BUT YOUR BRIDGE KEEPS ON BURNING AT BOTH ENDS
NOTHING THAT YOU EVER SAY COULD EVER POSSIBLYERASE ALL THE HATEFUL THINGS YOU DID
AND NOW I'M THROUGH WITH YOU
NOTHING THAT YOU EVER SAY COULD EVER POSSIBLY ERASE ALL THE HATEFUL THINGS YOU DID
AND NOW I'M THROUGH WITH YOU
NOTHING YOU COULD EVER SAY
NOTHING YOU COULD EVER SAY
NOTHING YOU COULD EVER SAY
NOTHING YOU COULD EVER SAY
IT'S OVER AND I DON'T FEEL A THING
BUT YOU'RE TRYING TO BREAK THE SCAR AGAIN
YOUR SPIRIT IS BLEEDING AS YOU GRIN
BUT YOUR BRIDGE KEEPS ON BURNING AT BOTH ENDS
HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY NOW
HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY NOW
HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY NOW
HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY NOW
song performed by by 12 Stones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Heard Immanuel Singing
(The poem shows the Master, with his work done, singing to free his heart in Heaven.)
I heard Immanuel singing
Within his own good lands,
I saw him bend above his harp.
I watched his wandering hands
Lost amid the harp-strings;
Sweet, sweet I heard him play.
His wounds were altogether healed.
Old things had passed away.
All things were new, but music.
The blood of David ran
Within the Son of David,
Our God, the Son of Man.
He was ruddy like a shepherd.
His bold young face, how fair.
Apollo of the silver bow
Had not such flowing hair.
I saw Immanuel singing
On a tree-girdled hill.
The glad remembering branches
Dimly echoed still
The grand new song proclaiming
The Lamb that had been slain.
New-built, the Holy City
Gleamed in the murmuring plain.
The crowning hours were over.
The pageants all were past.
Within the many mansions
The hosts, grown still at last,
In homes of holy mystery
Slept long by crooning springs
Or waked to peaceful glory,
A universe of Kings.
He left his people happy.
He wandered free to sigh
Alone in lowly friendship
With the green grass and the sky.
He murmured ancient music
His red heart burned to sing
Because his perfect conquest
Had grown a weary thing.
No chant of gilded triumph—
His lonely song was made
Of Art's deliberate freedom;
Of minor chords arrayed
In soft and shadowy colors
That once were radiant flowers:—
The Rose of Sharon, bleeding
In Olive-shadowed bowers:—
And all the other roses
In the songs of East and West
Of love and war and worshipping,
And every shield and crest
Of thistle or of lotus
Or sacred lily wrought
In creeds and psalms and palaces
And temples of white thought:—
All these he sang, half-smiling
And weeping as he smiled,
Laughing, talking to his harp
As to a new-born child:—
As though the arts forgotten
But bloomed to prophecy
These careless, fearless harp-strings,
New-crying in the sky.
"When this his hour of sorrow
For flowers and Arts of men
Has passed in ghostly music,"
I asked my wild heart then—
What will he sing to-morrow,
What wonder, all his own
Alone, set free, rejoicing,
With a green hill for his throne?
What will he sing to-morrow
What wonder all his own
Alone, set free, rejoicing,
With a green hill for his throne?
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soliloquy of a Duellist
They all at length have left me—long I wish'd
While round me with officious care they stood,
To dress this paltry wound, to be alone;
And now I find that solitude is dreadful—
Dreadful to one, upon whose burning soul,
The weight of murder rests! Oh, would to heaven
This day were blotted from the scroll of time:
Or, as indeed it seems, that some wild dream
Had wrapp'd me in its horrid tangled maze.
It is a dream,—it must be,—o'er my brain
Such strange bewildering seenes in memory crowd,
As are not, cannot be reality;
And yet this agony is too intense,
'T would rive the chains of sleep. This stiffen'd arm,
These bandages, and the sharp pain which shoots
Across my burning temples—these are real—
Oh, no—'t is not the phantasy of sleep—
He does lie bleeding, yonder, pale and dead;
I, too, am slightly wounded.—Would to heaven
The erring ball, that pierced this guilty arm,
Had found a goal within my guiltier breast,
Ere I had lived to be a murderer—
A hateful murderer, still living on
Beneath the weight, the torment of a curse,
Heavy as that of Cain, the stain of blood
Forever on my conscience, crying out
To heaven for vengeance. Yet my wounded honour
Claim'd, sure, some reparation for the blot
His language on it cast. Could I have lived
Beneath the brand of cowardice, and borne
The sneer and the expression of contempt,
That would have follow'd me from every lip?
He gave the challenge, and could I refuse?
I could not—yet I might—I could—I could—
The offence was mine, and mine is all the guilt.
Why o'er my heated passions could I not
One instant hold the reins of self-control?
One single moment of deliberate thought
And cloudless reason, would have spared me all
This guilt, this agony. The approving smiles
Of peaceful conscience, and mine own respect,
Had balanced well the idle laugh of fools—
And now, what am I now? I dare not think!
The stain of life-blood is upon my soul—
The life-blood of my friend—he was my friend,
And I have kill'd him! Oh, that this dark hour
Of deep remorseful anguish might recall
The moments that have pass'd. My wife!—my wife!
I cannot meet thee thus. I hate myself—
All whom I have loved, and e'en thou wilt hate me.
Oh! would that I were dead—I will not live
To meet thy tearful eye in sorrow bent
O'er one who once could wake its proudest smile.
I cannot pray—I dare not call on Heaven,
To pardon my offence—before the throne,
Even at the mercy-seat, his bleeding form
Would mock my agony, and drive me thence.
How can I look on those whose hearts my hand
Has made so desolate? His mother's eye
Has often smiled in kindness on my boyhood,
And such has been my gratitude, to wring
The last bright drops of comfort from her heart,
And cloud the evening of her life with woe.
His sisters, in their tears, demand of me
Their loved, their murder'd one—and there he lies,
Cut off in all the bloom of health and youth.
There lies the fatal instrument, and there
Its fellow lies to tempt me—loaded still;
I dare not think—the future and the past
Are fraught alike with images of horror.
Blood calls for blood, and mine own hand shall pay
The debt of justice. Crime shall wash out crime—
I dare not look into eternity—
Oh, God! Oh, God! forgive me for this deed!
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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