Related quotes: He shall not hear the...

Lament for Thomas McDonagh

He shall not hear the bittern cry
In the wild sky, where he is lain,
Nor voices of the sweeter birds,
Above the wailing of the rain.

Nor shall he know when loud March blows
Thro' slanting snows her fanfare shrill,
Blowing to flame the golden cup
Of many an upset daffodil.

But when the Dark Cow leaves the moor
And pastures poor with greedy weeds
Perhaps he'll hear her low at morn
Lifting her horn in pleasant meads.

poem by Francis Ledwidge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Related quotes

Winter: My Secret

I tell my secret? No indeed, not I:
Perhaps some day, who knows?
But not today; it froze, and blows, and snows,
And you're too curious: fie!
You want to hear it? well:
Only, my secret's mine, and I won't tell.

Or, after all, perhaps there's none:
Suppose there is no secret after all,
But only just my fun.
Today's a nipping day, a biting day;
In which one wants a shawl,
A veil, a cloak, and other wraps:
I cannot ope to every one who taps,
And let the draughts come whistling thro' my hall;
Come bounding and surrounding me,
Come buffeting, astounding me,
Nipping and clipping thro' my wraps and all.
I wear my mask for warmth: who ever shows
His nose to Russian snows
To be pecked at by every wind that blows?
You would not peck? I thank you for good will,
Believe, but leave that truth untested still.

Spring's and expansive time: yet I don't trust
March with its peck of dust,
Nor April with its rainbow-crowned brief showers,
Nor even May, whose flowers
One frost may wither thro' the sunless hours.
Perhaps some languid summer day,
When drowsy birds sing less and less,
And golden fruit is ripening to excess,
If there's not too much sun nor too much cloud,
And the warm wind is neither still nor loud,
Perhaps my secret I may say,
Or you may guess.

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Rain of March

The Fitful Showers of March

The rain of March, the rain of March
Came again
Came slanting down in full force
With pattering sound on the tin roof
Splashes of cold water wetted everything
The dry sand all around shone with a dazzle
The woodland paths softened with the tears
Of the blue sky.

For whom the sky wept?
The little leaves on the boughs
Quenched their thirst
Who washed all their heat and pain
The rain of March, the rain of March
Came again.

poem by Ratan Bhattacharjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Morning Time

Wind was blowing through the trees
I could hear the rustling of their leaves
The morning sun sneaking through the clouds
Birds singing morning sounds
For i love this time i say
Morning of a new day
I wonder what the day has in store
In the distance i hear the waves crashing the shore
For it is morning time and all is a buzz
From the depths of the oceans
To the skies above
Good morning morning i always say
My your a beautiful day
Maybe you might rain today
Your still beautiful anyway
The sombre breeze that blows around
The birds singing
As i spread my blanket on the ground
So i lay here looking into the sky
Motionless waiting and watching the world pass me by
A few drops of rain speckle my face
I would not give up being here for any place

poem by GJC boyle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Rain

I hear leaves drinking rain;
I hear rich leaves on top
Giving the poor beneath
Drop after drop;
'Tis a sweet noise to hear
These green leaves drinking near.

And when the Sun comes out,
After this Rain shall stop,
A wondrous Light will fill
Each dark, round drop;
I hope the Sun shines bright;
'Twill be a lovely sight.

poem by William Henry Davies
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Voices (acoustic)

Listen to the rain fallin' day by day
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day by day
Hey
I hear you calling, voices are here again
I hear you whisper, taking control of me
Watch the dancing shadows run away
All alone once again, afraid
All these faces, changing their shapes on me
I said laid it in my own world, will it ever be free?
Haunted figures around me, I want em' to stay
There always there to protect me, this is one thing you can't take away
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day by day
Yeah!
I hear you calling, voices are here again
I hear you whisper in my own mind, will it ever change?
Voices
Voices
Voices
Voices
I hear you calling

song performed by by Godsmack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Voices

song performed by by Godsmack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Golden Opportunity

(ian hunter)
The kids are ok
Theyre telling you now
But youre letting them down
Cause you just dont know how
And its a golden opportunity
Im spinning in space
Im laughing away
Your so pathetic
I can just hear them say
Its like a golden opportunity
You better hear it
See hear it
Its a golden opportunity
You better hear it
Get near it
Its a golden opportunity
We reckon theyre rats
Now see how they run
My house is so common
And were dumb were so dumb
And its a golden opportunity
Scream all you suckers
Scream all you can
Im losing my bluff
Its a scam its a scam
And its a golden opportunity
You better hear it
You better hear it hear it
Its like a golden opportunity
You better hear it
You better hear it hear it
Its like a golden opportunity
Alright!
You better hear it hear it
Hear it hear it
Its a golden opportunity
Hear it
Hear it
Its a golden opportunity
You better hear it
You better hear it
Its a golden opportunity
You better hear it
You better hear it
Its a golden opportunity
(fade)

song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

I Hear....

i hear the cry of a thousand naked voices.
i hear the sound of the turning wheels.
i hear the guns, and the moment after,
i hear the blood of bodies in the fields.
i hear the cry of babies without mothers,
i hear the hunger of faces without names.
i hear the whisper of god in the homeless,
the hearts of the poor in the falling rain.
i hear the truth beyond all lies,
i hear the hand that takes another.
i hear justice's cry for deliverance,
and the prayer of the stranger that is my brother.
i hear the hammer and wings of freedom,
i hear equality chanted and sang.
i hear the beat of life calling forward,
to dare, to give, tis not in vain!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Piper On The Hills

A CHILD'S SONG
There sits a piper on the hill
Who pipes the livelong day,
And when he pipes both loud and shrill,
The frightened people say
‘The wind, the wind is blowing up,
'Tis rising to a gale.’
The women hurry to the shore
To watch some distant sail.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Is blowing to a gale.
But when he pipes all sweet and low,
The piper on the hill,
I hear the merry women go
With laughter, loud and shrill
‘The wind, the wind is coming south,
'Twill blow a gentle day.’
They gather on the meadow-land,
To toss the yellow hay.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Is blowing south to-day.

And in the morn, when winter comes,
To keep the piper warm,
The little Angels shake their wings
To make a feather storm
‘The snow, the snow has come at last!’
The happy children call,
And ‘ring around’ they dance in glee,
And watch the snowflakes fall.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Has spread a snowy pall.
But when at night the piper plays,
I have not any fear,
Because God's windows open wide
The pretty tune to hear;
And when each crowding spirit looks,
From its star window-pane,
A watching mother may behold
Her little child again.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
May blow her home again.

poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Into The Mystic

We were born before the wind
Also younger than the sun
Ere the bonnie boat was won as we sailed into the mystic
Hark, now hear the sailors cry
Smell the sea and feel the sky
Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic
And when that fog horn blows I will be coming home
And when that fog horn blows I want to hear it
I dont have to fear it
I want to rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
Then magnificently we will float into the mystic
And when that fog horn blows you know I will be coming home
And when thst fog horn whistle blows I got to hear it
I dont have to fear it
I want to rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
And together we will float into the mystic
Come on girl...

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

A Little Peace

As I was walking slowly by
a church on Sunday morn
I could hear voices raised
in praise for the lord above.
The voices were sweet and soft,
but loud enough for the lord to hear,
as the praises they were singing
drifted through the air.
Not a single voice
was out of tune
as they sang out there.
When the voices went quiet,
a serine silence drifted down
over everything and everyone around.
God was answering their prayers
for a little peace everywhere today.

23 June 2007

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Daughters Of The Sea

Patrick simmons
Autumn breeze blowin to the east
Shift of breeze upon a sea of peace
Hear them call, cant you hear them sing
Hear them call, how their voices ring
Dizzy dancin, golden ladies
Misty eyes that cannot fool
Silver shoreline waves come crashin
To the end of all of you
Like a spider weavin silken nets
Fingers move, swaying silhouettes
Hear them call, cant you hear them sing
Hear them call, how their voices ring
Spinning, turning, moonlit madness
round the fire burnin bright
I can see it risin higher
Lightin up the starry night
Hear them call, cant you hear them sing
Hear them call, how their voices ring
Hear them call, cant you hear them sing
Hear them call, how their voices ring

song performed by by Doobie Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

A Voice On The Wind

She walks with the wind on the windy height
When the rocks are loud and the waves are white,
And all night long she calls through the night,
'O my children, come home!'
Her bleak gown, torn as a tattered cloud,
Tosses around her like a shroud,
While over the deep her voice rings loud,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

Who is she who wanders alone,
When the wind drives sheer and the rain is blown?
Who walks all night and makes her moan,
'O my children, come home!'
Whose face is raised to the blinding gale;
Whose hair blows black and whose eyes are pale,
While over the world goes by her wail,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

III

She walks with the wind in the windy wood;
The dark rain drips from her hair and hood,
And her cry sobs by, like a ghost pursued,
'O my children, come home!'
Where the trees loom gaunt and the rocks stretch drear,
The owl and the fox crouch back with fear,
As wild through the wood her voice they hear,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

Who is she who shudders by
When the boughs blow bare and the dead leaves fly?
Who walks all night with her wailing cry,
'O my children, come home!'
Who, strange of look, and wild of tongue,
With wan feet wounded and hands wild-wrung,
Sweeps on and on with her cry, far-flung,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

'Tis the Spirit of Autumn, no man sees,
The mother of Death and of Mysteries,
Who cries on the wind all night to these,
'O my children, come home!'
The Spirit of Autumn, pierced with pain,
Calling her children home again,
Death and Dreams, through ruin and rain,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

poem by Madison Julius Cawein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Ba Boom

I Hear The Trumpet Out,
See The Klaxon Jet Screech By,
Outcry's From Family's And My Own,
Whistle Buzzer Alarm,
Wolf Howls At The Moon,
Horn Blows Phone Rings,
Cannon Cacophony Explosion,
Doorbell Sounds Like Static,
Caterwaul Was A Name Of A Hero,
Siren Of Thunder, Noise Racket Rattle,
I Hear Screams And Roars,
The Wind Blows The Chime,
Ballyhoo Drums In The Distance,
Jet Crash Sonic Boom,
Bedlam The World Splits,
Like The World Ba Boom,
Bark Off A Tree Blast Off,
Fanfare Of The Government To Late,
For The Time Of God Is Near,
Just Be Pack Up-Prayed,
And Ready.

poem by Tommy Laster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Captive Knight

The prisoned thrush may brook the cage,
The captive eagle dies for rage.
Lady of the Lake.

'Twas a trumpet's pealing sound!
And the knight look'd down from the Paynim's tower,
And a Christian host, in its pride and power,
Thro' the pass beneath him wound.
Cease awhile, clarion! Clarion, wild and shrill,
Cease! let them hear the captive's voiceâ€“be still!
'I knew 'twas a trumpet's note!
And I see my brethren's lances gleam,
And their pennons wave by the mountain stream,
And their plumes to the glad wind float!
Cease awhile, clarion! Clarion, wild and shrill,
Cease! let them hear the captive's voiceâ€“be still!

'I am here, with my heavy chain!
And I look on a torrent sweeping by,
And an eagle rushing to the sky,
And a host, to its battle-plain!
Cease awhile, clarion! Clarion, wild and shrill,
Cease! let them hear the captive's voiceâ€“be still!

'Must I pine in my fetters here?
With the wild wave's foam, and the free bird's flight,
And the tall spears glancing on my sight,
And the trumpet in mine ear?
Cease awhile, clarion! Clarion, wild and shrill,
Cease! let them hear the captive's voiceâ€“be still!

'They are gone! they have all pass'd by!
They in whose wars I had borne my part,
They that I lov'd with a brother's heart,
They have left me here to die!
Sound again, clarion! Clarion, pour thy blast!
Sound! for the captive's dream of hope is past.'

poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

It’s almost as if you are hiding here somewhere

The dogs are restless
as if they are waiting on you
and is lying looking at the road
with long eyes
and every now and then
get to their feet.

It’s almost as if you
are hiding here somewhere
and just now
will sneak in from the dark.

Outside the streetlamps glow golden-yellow
and I hear the wind
blowing leaves against the window,
but your car keeps staying away

and the rain is now falling harder
and the cold locks around me
as if I can nowhere find a hot place
without you.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

April's Charms

When April scatters charms of primrose gold
Among the copper leaves in thickets old,
And singing skylarks from the meadows rise,
To twinkle like black stars in sunny skies;

When I can hear the small woodpecker ring
Time on a tree for all the birds that sing;
And hear the pleasant cuckoo, loud and long --
The simple bird that thinks two notes a song;

When I can hear the woodland brook, that could
Not drown a babe, with all his threatening mood;
Upon these banks the violets make their home,
And let a few small strawberry vlossoms come:

When I go forth on such a pleasant day,
One breath outdoors takes all my cares away;
It goes like heavy smoke, when flames take hold
Of wood that's green and fill a grate with gold.

poem by William Henry Davies
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Mother's Wail

The sweet young Spring walks over the earth,
It flushes and glows on moor and lea;
The birds are singing in careless mirth,
The brook flows cheerily on to the sea;
And I know that the flowers are blooming now
Over my beautiful darling's brow:
Blooming and blowing in perfume now
Over my poor lost darling's brow.

The breath of the passionate Summer turns
The green of the hills to a deeper dye;
The wind from the south land blows and burns,
The sun grows red in the brazen sky;
And I know that the long, dank grasses wave
Over my beautiful darling's grave:
Rise and fall, and lift and wave
Over my darling's narrow grave.

The days flow on, and the summer dies,
And glorious Autumn takes the crown;
And toward the south the robin flies,
And the green of the hills grows dull and brown;
And the leaves, all purple, and gold, and red,
Drift over my precious darling's bed:
Drift and flutter, all gold and red,
Over my darling's lowly bed.

The Winter comes with its chilling snows,
And wraps the world in a spotless shroud;
And cold from the north the wild wind blows,
And the tempest rages fierce and loud;
It shrieks, and sobs, and sighs, and weeps
Over the mound where my darling sleeps:
In pity, it sobs, and sighs, and weeps
Over the mound where my lost one sleeps.

He was so young, and fair, and brave:
The pride of my bosom-my heart's best joy;
And he lieth now in a drunkard's grave;
My beautiful darling, my only boy:
But down in my heart of hearts, I know
He has gone where his tempters never can go:
To heaven his soul has gone, I know,
Where the soul of his tempters never can go.

They charmed him into their licensed hell,
They gave him rum, and his eye grew wild;
And lower and lower down he fell,
Till they made a fiend of my precious child:
May the curses of God fall on the soul
Who gave my darling the poison bowl!
Ay, curses dark and deep on the soul
Who tempted my darling to lift the bowl!

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Hidden Voices in the Dark

I hear whispers in the murky corners.
I hear echoes coming out of the shadows.
I hear screams screeching through the dim black.
The hidden voices in the dark.

A son is whispering accept me even if I am gay.
A daughter echo of daddy please doesn’t touch me there.
And a mother screams I did not know.
They are some of the hidden voices in the dark.

In the silence of the night
when all is somber.
That is when my mind’s ear
is tune in to all
The Hidden Voices in the Dark

poem by Lore Me34
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Breeding Season Of The Spur Winged Plovers

The spur winged plovers breed in depths of Winter
And in the night you often hear them cry
Perhaps they scream at fox who is out hunting
As in the darkness he goes prowling by?

To where their eggs are far too close for comfort
Their alarm calls re-echo in the sky
And their shrill voices can be heard for some distance
As above their territory they scream and fly.

They do not waste their energy on nest building
And on the ground their green blotched eggs they lay
And in the breeding season they are wary
You hear them every night and every day.

When their chicks are young the plovers are quite fearless
And from their borders chase others away
They mob the currawongs and kites and kookaburras
And other birds who on their young might prey.

It is the breeding season of the spur winged plovers
And in the night their shrill voices you hear
Perhaps at fox out hunting they are screaming
As to where their eggs are he is prowling near.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

En.Citatepedia®.ro