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The Favor Of The Moment

Once more, then, we meet
In the circles of yore;
Let our song be as sweet
In its wreaths as before,
Who claims the first place
In the tribute of song?
The God to whose grace
All our pleasures belong.
Though Ceres may spread
All her gifts on the shrine,
Though the glass may be red
With the blush of the vine,
What boots--if the while
Fall no spark on the hearth;
If the heart do not smile
With the instinct of mirth?--
From the clouds, from God's breast
Must our happiness fall,
'Mid the blessed, most blest
Is the moment of all!
Since creation began
All that mortals have wrought,
All that's godlike in man
Comes--the flash of a thought!
For ages the stone
In the quarry may lurk,
An instant alone
Can suffice to the work;
An impulse give birth
To the child of the soul,
A glance stamp the worth
And the fame of the whole.
On the arch that she buildeth
From sunbeams on high,
As Iris just gildeth,
And fleets from the sky,
So shineth, so gloometh
Each gift that is ours;
The lightning illumeth--
The darkness devours!

poem by Friedrich Schiller
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Psalm 136 Abridged

God's wonders of creation, providence, redemption, and salvation.

Give to our God immortal praise;
Mercy and truth are all his ways:
Wonders of grace to God belong,
Repeat his mercies in your song.

Give to the Lord of lords renown,
The King of kings with glory crown:
His mercies ever shall endure,
When lords and kings are known no more.

He built the earth, he spread the sky,
And fixed the starry lights on high:
Wonders of grace to God belong,
Repeat his mercies in your song.

He fills the sun with morning light;
He bids the moon direct the night:
His mercies ever shall endure,
When suns and moons shall shine no more.

The Jews he freed from Pharaoh's hand,
And brought them to the promised land
Wonders of grace to God belong,
Repeat his mercies in your song.

He saw the Gentiles dead in sin,
And felt his pity work within
His mercies ever shall endure,
When death and sin shall reign no more.

He sent his Son with power to save
From guilt, and darkness, and the grave
Wonders of grace to God belong,
Repeat his mercies in your song.

Through this vain world he guides our feet,
And leads us to his heav'nly seat
His mercies ever shall endure,
When this vain world shall be no more.

poem by Isaac Watts
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Somebody Called You

Let me breathe so that you hear my voice
Let the rain fall but plead the moon to stay in place
Let each dropp sync to the rhythm of my heart
My heart beats so that you hear my song
A song of love dedicated from me to you
Dedicated from my heart and only to yours
Though two worlds apart I ask we let there be one heart in place
Not because I could use somebody like you
But because I want to be with somebody called you

Call the clouds to cover us and send a shower of blessings
Hold the hands of time so that this moment lasts
If in this a moment I dream let me dream a tale that's fair
Fairytales last forever so I'm going to love you till we see happily ever after
This is a moment I saved just for two
A moment I'll never regret
A moment I'll always cherish
Coz it's a moment that's meant to be
A lifetime loving somebody called you

Once upon a time I needed a more than friend,
So often I needed a pillar by my side
31 bricks could have made a pillar,
But only proverbs 31 defined an everlasting and even stronger pillar,
One called a woman of virtue
Adam's rib surely did suffice for a man's real best friend
So with every line words are drawn from my heart
Drawn by the beauty of your heart, personality and passion
Your love for God, yes the beauty that's true
Grace was sufficient and I received a gift I never deserved
It was all I needed, it was all I wanted
It was somebody called you

Take my hand and lead me away
Take me to a place of peace yet set for all to see
Tonight I'll let them know what you mean to me
More than a ruby, more than a diamond coz you are a gift by grace
I love you and I'll love you till the end of time so I'm here to stay
Other says they want someone like you
Other wish to use somebody like you
All I want is to a lifetime with somebody
Will that somebody please be you

poem by Sir T.A.E.P.S
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Amaranth

ONCE a poet—long ago—
Wrote a song as void of art
As the songs that children know,
And as pure as a child’s heart.
With a sigh he threw it down,
Saying, “This will never shed
Any glory or renown
On my name when I am dead.

“I will sing a lordly song
Men shall hear, when I am gone,
Through the years sound clear and strong
As a golden clarion.”

So this lordly song he sang
That would gain him deathless fame—
When the death-knell o’er him rang
No man even knew its name.

Ay, and when his way he found
To the place of singing souls,
And beheld their bright heads crowned
With song-woven aureoles,

He stood shame-faced in the throng,
For his brow of wreath was bare,
And, alas! his lordly song
Sere had grown in that sweet air;

Then, all sudden, a divine
Light fell on him from afar,
And he felt the child-song shine
On his forehead like a star.

So for ever. Each and all
Songs of passion or of mirth
That are not heart-pure shall fall
As a sky-lark’s—to the earth;

But the soul’s song has no bounds—
Like the voice of Israfel,
From the heaven of heavens it sounds
To the very hell of hell.

poem by Victor James Daley
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A Song..to Whom Does It Belong

a song
to whom does it belong
once it is born, , , and stays alive for so long

the poet has done his bit
he has put his heart and soul
to give the song a soul

the musician has done his bit
he has put his work and mind
to give the song a form

the singer has done his bit
he has put his voice to emote
to give the song a life

whose song is it now...to whom does it belong

the song has become a bird
it goes around the world
it is by itself..a persona

it goes on to live for long

[the indian film songs..at least a few go on to live for long
i tried to say how itis made and how it stays]

poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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On The Nature Of Love

The night is black and the forest has no end;
a million people thread it in a million ways.
We have trysts to keep in the darkness, but where
or with whom - of that we are unaware.
But we have this faith - that a lifetime's bliss
will appear any minute, with a smile upon its lips.
Scents, touches, sounds, snatches of songs
brush us, pass us, give us delightful shocks.
Then peradventure there's a flash of lightning:
whomever I see that instant I fall in love with.
I call that person and cry: `This life is blest!
for your sake such miles have I traversed!'
All those others who came close and moved off
in the darkness - I don't know if they exist or not.

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Love's Old Sweet Song

Once in the dear dead days beyond recall,
When on the world the mists began to fall,
Out of the dreams that rose in happy throng
Low to our hearts Love sung an old sweet song;
And in the dusk where fell the firelight gleam,
Softly it wove itself into our dream.

Just a song at twilight, when the lights are low,
And the flick'ring shadows softly come and go,
Tho' the heart be weary, sad the day and long,
Still to us at twilight comes Love's old song,
Comes Love's old sweet song.

Even today we hear Love's song of yore,
Deep in our hearts it dwells for evermore
Footsteps may falter, weary grow the way,
Still we can hear it at the close of day,
So till the end, when life's dim shadows fall,
Love will be found the sweetest song of all.

poem by Clifton Bingham
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Amazing Grace

Amazing Grace, how sweet God is, and all because of this,
The Gift He sent upon a Cross, God’s Gift to all those lost,
A gift that is deserved by none, the Gift of God’s own Son,
Our Blessed Savior, Jesus Christ, who came to give us life.

His Grace reaches far and wide, and no one shall be denied,
Who comes by faith to Him, Christ, who died for all their sin,
And all who seek His face, receive from Him amazing Grace,
Grace that opens up that door, to life with God forevermore.

It is a Grace that’s from above, guiding us here by His love,
A love that sent His only Son, to be the Savior of everyone,
With His love, comes a peace, that from God will not cease,
Peace unlike the world’s friend, inner peace that has no end.

God’s Grace truly changes men, in Christ they’re born again,
Sinful men of this earth, now bound for heaven by new birth,
Fallen men, now changed for life, in a world where sin is rife,
Now living life for the Lord, since His Grace was not ignored.

Grace will soften a hard heart, giving a life a brand new start,
By giving a soul eyes to see, God’s Truth, regarding eternity,
Turning a soul to the place, where they receive saving Grace,
At the Cross of Calvary, where Grace began for you and me.

poem by Bob Gotti
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Sonnet XXXI: Her Gifts

High grace, the dower of queens; and therewithal
Some wood-born wonder's sweet simplicity;
A glance like water brimming with the sky
Or hyacinth-light where forest-shadows fall;
Such thrilling pallor of cheek as doth enthral
The heart; a mouth whose passionate forms imply
All music and all silence held thereby;
Deep golden locks, her sovereign coronal;
A round reared neck, meet column of Love's shrine
To cling to when the heart takes sanctuary;
Hands which for ever at Love's bidding be,
And soft-stirred feet still answering to his sign:—
These are her gifts, as tongue may tell them o'er.
Breathe low her name, my soul; for that means more.

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Spirit Of Song

Where is thy dwelling-place? Echo of sweetness,
Seraph of tenderness, where is thy home?
Angel of happiness, herald of fleetness,
Thou hast the key of the star-blazon'd dome.
Where lays that never end
Up to God's throne ascend,
And our fond heart-wishes lovingly throng,
Soaring with thee above,
Bearer of truth and love,
Teacher of heaven's tongue - Spirit of Song!

Euphony, born in the realms of the tearless,
Mingling thy notes with the voices of Earth;
Wanting thee, all would be dreary and cheerless,
Weaver of harmony, giver of mirth.
Comfort of child and sage,
With us in youth and age,
Soothing the weak and inspiring the strong,
Illuming the blackest night,
Making the day more bright,
Oh! thou art dear to us, Spirit of Song!

Oft in the springtime, sweet words of affection
Are whispered by thee in thy tenderest tone,
And in the winter dark clouds of dejection
By thee are dispelled till all sorrow has flown.
Thou'rt with the zephyrs low,
And with the brooklet's flow,
And with the feathered choir all the year long;
Happy each child of thine,
Blest with thy gifts divine,
Charming our senses, sweet Spirit of Song!

poem by Thomas Bracken
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Christmas Hymn

O CHRIST, born on the holy day,
I have no gift to give my King;
No flowers grow by my weary way;
I have no birthday song to sing.

How can I sing Thy name and praise,
Who never saw Thy face divine;
Who walk in darkness all my days,
And see no Eastern stars a-shine?

Yet, when their Christmas gifts they bring,
How can I leave Thy praise unsung?
How stay from homage to the King,
And hold a silent, grudging tongue?

Lord, I found many a song to sing,
And many a humble hymn of praise
For Thy great Miracle of Spring,
The wonder of the waxing days.

When I beheld Thy days and years,
Did I not sing Thy pleasant earth?
The moons of love, the years of tears,
The mysteries of death and birth?

Have I not sung with all my soul
While soul and song were mine to yield,
Thy lightning crown, Thy cloud-control,
The dewy clover of Thy field?

Have I not loved Thy birds and beasts,
Thy streams and woods, Thy sun and shade;
Have I not made me holy feasts
Of all the beauty Thou hast made?

What though my tear-tired eyes, alas!
Won never grace Thy face to see?
I heard Thy footstep on the grass,
Thy voice in every wind-blown tree.

No music now I make or win,
Yet, Lord, remember I have been
The lover of Thy world, wherein
I found nought common or unclean.

Grown old and blind, I sing no more,
Thy saints in heaven sing sweet and strong,
Yet take the songs I made of yore
For echoes to Thy birthday song.

poem by Edith Nesbit
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From Nothing at All

I can give nothing at all to you, yet daily Lord you see me through,
Supplying all I need and more, while asking nothing from me Lord.
Although I come to you with none, abundance I receive of the Son,
Christ bestows, quite abundantly, gifts and blessings down on me.

For all good gifts are from above, in the Father’s unchanging love,
Bestowed, upon all who believe; Blessings that we simply receive.
With these gifts bestowed on us, you Lord, take us into your trust,
That we use those gifts we receive, in helping all others to believe.

I come to you, without anything; you make me a child of The King,
His child through all of eternity, and all through the gift of Calvary,
Your Only Son, Jesus Christ, offered to all freely as our Sacrifice,
One special gift offered by Grace, to the entire, sinful human race,

Blessings we receive from you Lord, will continue on forevermore,
As the gift you offered at Calvary, is a New Life in Christ Eternally,
That begins on this earthly sod, to continue on with you dear God,
For by Grace you saved my soul, to make a sinner eternally whole.

This empty soul, you have filled, with heavenly gifts, as you willed,
For your Purpose and your Plan, to reach out to every single man.
For with each gift we play a part, in reaching for you a needy heart,
With the One Gift of Salvation, offered by The God of all Creation.

poem by Bob Gotti
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Babel

KNOW ye in ages past that tower
By human hands built strong and high?
Arch over arch, with magic power,
Rose proudly each successive hour,
To reach the happy sky.

It rose, till human pride was crushed--
Quick came the unexpected change;
A moment every tone was hushed,
And then again they freely gushed,
But sounded wild and strange.

Loud, quick, and clear, each voice was heard,
Calling for lime, and stone, and wood,
All uttered words--but not one word;
More than the carol of a bird,
Their fellows understood.

Is there no Babel but that one,
The storied tower of other days?--
Where, round the giant pile of stone,
Pausing they stood--their labour done,
To listen in amaze.

Fair springs the tower of hope and fame,
When all our life is fairy land;
Till, scarcely knowing what to blame,
Our fellows cease to feel the same--
We cease to understand.

Then, when they coldly smile to hear
The burning dreams of earlier days;
The rapid fall from hope to fear,
When eyes whose every glance was dear,
Seem changing as they gaze:

Then, when we feel 'twere vain to speak
Of fervent hopes--aspirings high--
Of thoughts for which all words are weak--
Of wild far dreams, wherein we seek
Knowledge of earth and sky:

Of communings with nature's God,
When impulse deep the soul hath moved--

Of tears which sink within the sod,
Where, mingling with the valley clod,
Lies something we have loved:

Then cometh ours;--and better theirs--
Of stranger tongues together brought,
Than that in which we all have shares,
A Babel in a world of cares--
Of feeling and of thought.

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Deo gratias- a Song to God on High!

Deo gratias,
For things that God has done;
Deo gratias,
For earth, sky, rain and sun;
Deo gratias,
For life’s joys, woes and fun;
Deo gratias,
For time to walk and run;
Deo gratias- a song to God on High!

Deo gratias,
For birth upon this earth;
Deo gratias,
For mirth after our death;
Deo gratias,
For warmth from every hearth;
Deo gratias,
For love and food sans dearth;
Deo gratias- a song to God on High!

Deo gratias,
For mercy that God shows;
Deo gratias,
For colorful rainbows;
Deo gratias,
For failure of our foes;
Deo gratias,
For grace by which life goes;
Deo gratias- a song to God on High!

poem by John Celes
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The Sweetest Song

Sweet song of youth that wishes to escape,
and shape this world, with wings unfurled.

Such energies abound, and how very
sound, seem all the theories.

But maybe they are illusions, or forgone conclusions.

We all, when young think we are among the
famous-to-be and the strong, but time can prove wrong.

For very few will battle it through, to carve their name
in the hall of fame.

Sad but true, I'm afraid, it's really hard to make the grade.

If luck does come your way, you'll be distinguee.
But don't aim too high, unless you can fly, for to drop
from any elevated place, is to fall from grace, and no one
likes to tumble from the top, and be a flop.

So slow your pace, no need to race, let time sort out
what life is all about.
And when your moment comes along,
it will be the sweetest song.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Home, Sweet Home

Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain;
Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again!
The birds singing gayly, that come at my call --
Give me them -- and the peace of mind, dearer than all!
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

I gaze on the moon as I tread the drear wild,
And feel that my mother now thinks of her child,
As she looks on that moon from our own cottage door
Thro' the woodbine, whose fragrance shall cheer me no more.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

How sweet 'tis to sit 'neath a fond father's smile,
And the caress of a mother to soothe and beguile!
Let others delight mid new pleasures to roam,
But give me, oh, give me, the pleasures of home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

To thee I'll return, overburdened with care;
The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there;
No more from that cottage again will I roam;
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet, home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

poem by John Howard Payne
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Spirit of Song

Where is thy dwelling-place? Echo of sweetness,
   Seraph of tenderness, where is thy home?
Angel of happiness, herald of fleetness,
   Thou hast the key of the star-blazon'd dome.
   Where lays that never end
   Up to God's throne ascend,
And our fond heart-wishes lovingly throng,
   Soaring with thee above,
   Bearer of truth and love,
Teacher of heaven's tongue -- Spirit of Song!

Euphony, born in the realms of the tearless,
   Mingling thy notes with the voices of Earth;
Wanting thee, all would be dreary and cheerless,
   Weaver of harmony, giver of mirth.
   Comfort of child and sage,
   With us in youth and age,
Soothing the weak and inspiring the strong,
   Illuming the blackest night,
   Making the day more bright,
Oh! thou art dear to us, Spirit of Song!

Oft in the springtime, sweet words of affection
   Are whispered by thee in thy tenderest tone,
And in the winter dark clouds of dejection
   By thee are dispelled till all sorrow has flown.
   Thou'rt with the zephyrs low,
   And with the brooklet's flow,
And with the feathered choir all the year long;
   Happy each child of thine,
   Blest with thy gifts divine,
Charming our senses, sweet Spirit of Song!

poem by James Brunton Stephens
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The soul, song of love

The soul, song of love
I sing from the bottom of my heart
The soul song, I sing I cry I laugh
I cheer I love enjoy
Too sing for you to hear me cry
Sweet heart listen be happy
Tune penetrate into flesh to bone
To feel to touch
To get to hold
The heart sings the soul, song of love
Just to let you know only you I love
Only you I sing only you can hear
For love for comfort
For peace and happiness
Hold and touch
The soul, song of you
The soul, the song belong to you
with the heart

poem by See Fee Lee
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Seven Years Old

SEVEN white roses on one tree,
Seven white loaves of blameless leaven,
Seven white sails on one soft sea,
Seven white swans on one lake’s lee,
Seven white flowerlike stars in heaven,
All are types unmeet to be
For a birthday’s crown of seven.

II.

Not the radiance of the roses,
Not the blessing of the bread,
Not the breeze that ere day grows is
Fresh for sails and swans, and closes
Wings above the sun’s grave spread,
When the starshine on the snows is
Sweet as sleep on sorrow shed,

III.

Nothing sweetest, nothing best,
Holds so good and sweet a treasure
As the love wherewith once blest
Joy grows holy, grief takes rest,
Life, half tired with hours to measure,
Fills his eyes and lips and breast
With most light and breath of pleasure

IV.

As the rapture unpolluted,
As the passion undefiled,
By whose force all pains heart-rooted
Are transfigured and transmuted,
Recompensed and reconciled,
Through the imperial, undisputed,
Present godhead of a child.

Brown bright eyes and fair bright head,
Worth a worthier crown than this is,
Worth a worthier song instead,
Sweet grave wise round mouth, full fed
With the joy of love, whose bliss is
More than mortal wine and bread,
Lips whose words are sweet as kisses,

VI.

Little hands so glad of giving,
Little heart so glad of love,
Little soul so glad of living,
While the strong swift hours are weaving
Light with darkness woven above,
Time for mirth and time for grieving,
Plume of raven and plume of dove,

VII.

I can give you but a word
Warm with love therein for leaven,
But a song that falls unheard
Yet on ears of sense unstirred
Yet by song so far from heaven,
Whence you came the brightest bird,
Seven years since, of seven times seven.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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L'envoi To "Life's Handicap"

My new-cut ashlar takes the light
Where crimson-blank the windows flare;
By my own work, before the night,
Great Overseer I make my prayer.

If there be good in that I wrought,
Thy hand compelled it, Master, Thine;
Where I have failed to meet Thy thought
I know, through Thee, the blame is mine.

One instant's toil to Thee denied
Stands all Eternity's offence,
Of that I did with Thee to guide
To Thee, through Thee, be excellence.

Who, lest all thought of Eden fade,
Bring'st Eden to the craftsman's brain,
Godlike to muse o'er his own trade
And Manlike stand with God again.

The depth and dream of my desire,
The bitter paths wherein I stray,
Thou knowest Who hast made the Fire,
Thou knowest Who hast made the Clay!

One stone the more swings to her place
In that dread Temple of Thy Worth --
It is enough that through Thy grace
I saw naught common on Thy earth.

Take not that vision from my ken;
Oh whatsoe'er may spoil or speed,
Help me to need no aid from men
That I may help such men as need!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Kindness

Just one moment is all it took for me
to fall in love forever,
forever and a day.
And what is a moment
in the minutes that you love?
It's as big as an ocean
and the skies up above.

It can be elongated into an eternity
which has no end.
It can consume every breath you take
and can always mend
every separation that eventually
comes along.
Just that one moment is filled with song.
It sings in the heart of me
and fills me with delight.
There's always that one moment
I remember day and night.

A moment of recognition,
a moment of joy
a moment of acceptance
for me to employ
all of my wiles to keep you content,
All of my attempts to keep you spent
as you lay your head upon my breast
and know that we have been so blessed
by just one moment.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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