The Wayfarers
Still the white stars burn overhead,
The green earth swings upon her way:
Where are the voices of the dead,
The hearts of Yesterday?
Drawn by what strange, mysterious power,
From what dream world and magic sky
Came they to laugh on earth an hour,
To weep, to toil, to die?
And whither gone? On what wild flight
By planet pale and sceptred star?
What realms of sorrow or delight
Now wander they afar?
Pale Wayfarers, whose noiseless tread
Is near me as I seem to see
The mighty generations dead,
And all that yet shall be!
Are Past and Future, then, a breath
That one vast Present makes its own?
The Angel, Birth, the Shadow, Death,
Each guards a world unknown.
Wayfarers all, we know not whence
We came, nor whitherwards we go.
Deep in our hearts a haunting sense
That somewhere we shall know.
Still the white stars burn overhead,
The green earth swings upon her way:
Where are the voices of the dead,
The hearts of yesterday?
poem by George Essex Evans
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The Camp Within the West
O DID you see a troop go by
Way-weary and oppressed,
Dead kisses on the drooping lip
And a dead heart in the breast?
Yea, I have seen them one by one
Way-weary and oppressed,
And when I asked them, ‘Whither speed?’
They answered, ‘To the West!’
And were they pale as pale could be—
Death-pale with haunted eyes,
And did you see the hot white dust
Range round their feet and rise?
Oh, they were pale as pale could be,
And pale as an embered leaf;
The hot white dust had risen, but
They laid it with their grief.
Did no one say the way is long,
And crave a little rest?
Oh no, they said, ‘The night is nigh,
Our camp is in the West!’
And did pain pierce their feet, as though
The way with thorns were set,
And were they visited by strange
Dark angels of regret?
Oh yea, and some were mute as death,
Though shot by many a dart,
With them the salt of inward tears
Went stinging through the heart.
And how are these wayfarers called,
And whither do they wend?
The Weary-Hearted—and their road
At sunset hath and end.
Shed tears for them…Nay, nay, no tears!
They yearn for endless rest;
Perhaps large stars will burn above
Their camp within the West.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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At The Last.
The sky grows white with the moon,
And the sea yearns up to the night
As the soul to an unknown height,
Drawn thence by a starry rune.
Only a lost wind strays,
Like the breath of Passion blown
In the vault of the night unknown;
And the heart in me sobs and says:
'After a while we, too,
Shall rest as the stars above,
When we have no more to do
With the dream of life and love.'
O Time! thy feet that run
Over the hills and waves,
Over the cradles and graves,
From the first to the final sun!
Some day thou too shalt cease —
Some way there'll come to thee
Death's white tranquility,
The boon of an awful peace —
When the latest grief shall flow
With the surge that drifts away,
And the Night shall no more go
In her endless chase of Day.
Then shall the worn heart rest,
Then shall the sad Sea yearn
No more for the Moon's return,
Like a bird on its frozen nest
Dead, with her young ones dead
Under her breast on the bough,
Where nothing can wake them now —
Not the Dawn with its golden tread:
Where Death has been good to all,
Good to the mother and young,
And the dreams are beyond recall,
And the songs have all been sung.
So, at the last, to sleep!
So, at the last, to be
Still as the dead still sea!
Never to wake and weep,
Never to know Love's pain,
Never to yearn on for
What is gone for evermore;
To be as we were again
Ere we came o'er the bourne of birth,
Ere we knew of the fading flowers,
Of love and of life on Earth
And the hearts that were not ours!
poem by Robert Crawford
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Three Words
Three laconic words I love you enshroud
The hearts of those of dead love
Angels whom hide behind love's cloud
Below here on earth from up above
Each line a line in their ivory dipped wings
I love you I love you captivate
Thine hearts of hearts the angels sing
As our hearts draw close and gravitate
Dead words in dead song the poet grieves
At the grave of love of dead grizzled white
To resurrect thee with I love you he believes
In love, every love, love at first sight
As the clouds, separate and light shine through
All hearts eyes gaze and learn
It's true, it's true
In the words I love you we burn….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Avalanche-the White Death
The land is white
The name of the land brings you
to the land of nothing
The name is white
The white is dead
Sun shines pale, the land shades full of pain
Avalea doesn't bloom and fall in this drain
I'm going back alive again
But no one's crying for the dead
The land is still white
Ice and snow are still the same as yesterday
But the wind is stronger in the sorrow
The land is white
The white is dead
They weep wherever they blow
Forever love, cursed land
Forever goodbye, my lovely land
No more tears falling in this land
Even the sand doesn't know
why he doesn't round to anywhere
The land has frozen like stone
The air is blowed dead
The land is white
The name is white
The land called white is dead
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Star of My Heart
Star of my heart, I follow from afar.
Sweet Love on high, lead on where shepherds are,
Where Time is not, and only dreamers are.
Star from of old, the Magi-Kings are dead
And a foolish Saxon seeks the manger-bed.
O lead me to Jehovah's child
Across this dreamland lone and wild,
Then will I speak this prayer unsaid,
And kiss his little haloed head —
"My star and I, we love thee, little child."
Except the Christ be born again to-night
In dreams of all men, saints and sons of shame,
The world will never see his kingdom bright.
Stars of all hearts, lead onward thro' the night
Past death-black deserts, doubts without a name,
Past hills of pain and mountains of new sin
To that far sky where mystic births begin,
Where dreaming ears the angel-song shall win.
Our Christmas shall be rare at dawning there,
And each shall find his brother fair,
Like a little child within:
All hearts of the earth shall find new birth
And wake, no more to sin.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Hope Dieth: Hope Liveth
Strong are thine arms, O love, & strong
Thine heart to live, and love, and long;
But thou art wed to grief and wrong:
Live, then, and long, though hope be dead!
Live on, & labour thro’ the years!
Make pictures through the mist of tears,
Of unforgotten happy fears,
That crossed the time ere hope was dead.
Draw near the place where once we stood
Amid delight’s swift-rushing flood,
And we and all the world seemed good
Nor needed hope now cold and dead.
Dream in the dawn I come to thee
Weeping for things that may not be!
Dream that thou layest lips on me!
Wake, wake to clasp hope’s body dead!
Count o’er and o’er, and one by one
The minutes of the happy sun
That while agone on kissed lips shone,
Count on, rest not, for hope is dead.
Weep, though no hair’s breadth thou shalt move
The living Earth, the heaven above
By all the bitterness of love!
Weep and cease not, now hope is dead!
Sighs rest thee not, tears bring no ease,
Life hath no joy, and Death no peace:
The years change not, though they decrease,
For hope is dead, for hope is dead.
Speak, love, I listen: far away
I bless the tremulous lips, that say,
“Mock not the afternoon of day,
Mock not the tide when hope is dead!”
I bless thee, O my love, who say’st:
“Mock not the thistle-cumbered waste;
I hold Love’s hand, and make no haste
Down the long way, now hope is dead.
With other names do we name pain,
The long years wear our hearts in vain.
Mock not our loss grown into gain,
Mock not our lost hope lying dead.
Our eyes gaze for no morning-star,
No glimmer of the dawn afar;
Full silent wayfarers we are
Since ere the noon-tide hope lay dead.
Behold with lack of happiness
The master, Love, our hearts did bless
Lest we should think of him the less:
Love dieth not, though hope is dead!”
poem by William Morris
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To Them That Mourn
Lift up your heads: in life, in death,
God knoweth his head was high.
Quit we the coward's broken breath
Who watched a strong man die.
If we must say, 'No more his peer
Cometh; the flag is furled.'
Stand not too near him, lest he hear
That slander on the world.
The good green earth he loved and trod
Is still, with many a scar,
Writ in the chronicles of God,
A giant-bearing star.
He fell: but Britain's banner swings
Above his sunken crown.
Black death shall have his toll of kings
Before that cross goes down.
Once more shall move with mighty things
His house of ancient tale,
Where kings whose hands were kissed of kings
Went in: and came out pale.
O young ones of a darker day,
In art's wan colours clad,
Whose very love and hate are grey -
Whose very sin is sad.
Pass on: one agony long-drawn
Was merrier than your mirth,
When hand-in-hand came death and dawn,
And spring was on the earth.
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Evening.
The light is drawn out of the leaves and grass,
And the sweet flowers grow pale in the gray air,
As if their beauty's essence e'en did pass
With the departing light from all things fair,
As the sap in the trees when summer's fled
Draws back to the earth, leaving the leaves dead.
The sky becomes a cloud, the hills a shade,
As the mysterious darkness fills the sphere,
A monstrous elf whose tentacles are laid
In silence upon all things far and near;
Now the bats flit about the mothy damp
In which the spiders weave their airy camp.
I, too, could fill as 'twere a dreamy bed
Under the green leaves in the darkness now,
And watch the evening planet overhead
Like a dewdrop upon the airy bough
Of heaven tremble — till my soul too grew
Like liquid light in water, shining through.
And I can feel that which the dead inherit —
Peace, and the power to forego the pain
That like a vulture on the human spirit
Draws its fine essence from the fading brain,
Till every sense contracts, and the slow breath
Oozes away in the desire of death.
So from me slips the day's disquietude,
And I am made one with the night, as those
Who pass from thought into a faery mood
On Lethe's wharf, whenas old Charon goes
Into the dusk of that eternal eve
Where all must go when the earth-light they leave.
poem by Robert Crawford
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Earth
Words and music by tim staffell
I might be at a table
And suddenly Ill catch
A fleeting vision of her crystal seas
Or I might be standing in a crowded dockyard faraway
Underneath the sun Ive never seen
cos I have seen many worlds
For what its worth
But Ill never see again the planet earth
My earth
I might be chasing waves of light
Out towards the rim
Where stars are sparse
And the cold of space seeps in
But I might be in a bar room
Drinking methylated gin
And thinking of the places I have been
Yes I have seen many worlds
For what its worth
But Ill never see again the planet earth
My earth
I have seen many worlds
For what its worth
But Ill never see again the planet earth
My earth
Cast adrift amongst the stars
I float from sun to sun
Dreaming of the world that gave me birth
All the places I have been
Remind me there is none
To match the green living hills of earth
cos I have seen many worlds
For what its worth
But Ill never see again the planet earth
My earth
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dead Prayers
hearts trek
feet travel to the road
leading to unknown tombs
forgotten by the winding clocks
never remembered by the heart
and troubled souls
reach the unpainted walls
of a moss decorated crypt
and the dead souls
shouts dead prayers
only the dead can understand
what are halloween prayers anyway?
for uncaring bones
became stout by the earth
addicted by the rain of forgetfullness
and drugged by dreams gone wild
of wisdom lost
in a maze of unknown heavens
in a hell never found..
yet it is Halloween
so hearts still murmur
souls still recite
dead prayers for all
dead souls
encaged on dead tombs
poem by Villiamor Calventas
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In Prison
I cried out for the pain of man,
I cried out for my bitter wrath
Against the hopeless life that ran
For ever in a circling path
From death to death since all began;
Till on a summer night
I lost my way in the pale starlight
And saw our planet, far and small,
Through endless depths of nothing fall
A lonely pin-prick spark of light,
Upon the wide, enfolding night,
With leagues on leagues of stars above it,
And powdered dust of stars below—
Dead things that neither hate nor love it
Not even their own loveliness can know,
Being but cosmic dust and dead.
And if some tears be shed,
Some evil God have power,
Some crown of sorrow sit
Upon a little world for a little hour—
Who shall remember? Who shall care for it?
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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Shadows
We peer into the shadows
where yesterday’s sunlight glows,
trying to capture and hold
yesterday’s sunlit gold.
We peer into tomorrow
to predict and plot
where that sun will likely go
(but where, perhaps, it will not) .
Today’s sunshine still blazes
its disc ever overhead.
Past and future are autumn hazes
that drift through the land of the Dead.
The land of the Dead.
Dead.
Remember the Light;
the Light
that shines
in the darkness.
poem by Brian Taylor
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Tribute to Gladstone
Lift up your heads; in life, in death,
God knoweth his head was high;
Quit we the coward's broken breath,
Who watched a strong man die.
If ye must say "No more his peer
Cometh: the flag is furled,"
Stand not too near him; lest we hear
That slander on the world
The good green earth he loved and trod
Is still, with many a scar,
Writ in the chronicles of God
A giant-bearing star.
He fell: but Britain's banner swings
Above his sunken crown;
Black Death shall have his toil of kings
Before the cross goes down.
O young ones of a darker day,
In Art's wan colours clad,
Whose very love and hate are grey,
Whose very sin is sad,
Pass on: one agony long-drawn
Was merrier than your mirth;
When hand in hand came death and dawn
And spring was on the earth.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Tribute to Gladstone
Lift up your heads; in life, in death,
God knoweth his head was high;
Quit we the coward's broken breath,
Who watched a strong man die.
If ye must say 'No more his peer
Cometh: the flag is furled,'
Stand not too near him; lest we hear
That slander on the world
The good green earth he loved and trod
Is still, with many a scar,
Writ in the chronicles of God
A giant-bearing star.
He fell: but Britain's banner swings
Above his sunken crown;
Black Death shall have his toil of kings
Before the cross goes down.
O young ones of a darker day,
In Art's wan colours clad,
Whose very love and hate are grey,
Whose very sin is sad,
Pass on: one agony long-drawn
Was merrier than your mirth;
When hand in hand came death and dawn
And spring was on the earth.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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In Memoriam
GROWING to full manhood now,
With the care-lines on our brow,
We, the youngest of the nations,
With no childish lamentations,
Weep, as only strong weep,
5
For the noble hearts that sleep,
Pillowed where they fought and bled,
The loved and lost, our glorious dead!
Toil and sorrow come with age,
Manhood's rightful heritage;
10
Toil our arms more strong shall render,
Sorrow make our hearts more tender,
In the heartlessness of time;
Honour lays a wreath sublime—
Deathless glory—where they bled,
15
Our loved and lost, with glorious dead!
Wild the prairie's grasses wave
O'er each hero's new-made grave;
Time shall write such wrinkles o'er us,
But the future spreads before us
20
Glorious in that sunset land—
Nerving every heart and hand,
Comes a brightness none can shed,
But the dead, the glorious dead!
Lay them where they fought and fell;
25
Every heart shall ring their knell,
For the lessons they have taught us,
For the glory they have brought us.
Tho' our hearts are sad and bowed,
Nobleness still makes us proud—
30
Proud of light their names shall shed
In the roll-call of our dead!
Growing to full manhood now,
With the care-lines on our brow,
We, the youngest of the nations,
35
With no childish lamentations,
Weep, as only strong men weep,
For the noble hearts that sleep
Where the call of duty led,
Where the lonely prairies spread,
40
Where for us they fought and bled,
Our loved, our lost, our glorious dead!
poem by Frederick George Scott
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This World Is Magic
Dreams can make you fly
This world is magic
Rainbows in the sky
This world is magic to me
Dreams can make you fly
This world is magic
We need peace on earth
The second birth of paradise
This world is magic
This world is magic to me
This world is magic
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
We need peace on Earth
The second birth of paradise
This world is what we share
The nature and the air
Life could be paradise
Eternal peace is what we need
To live in harmony
For human history
Pray for a better world
When you close your eyes again
Planet Earth, that's the name of my place
I'm born in this world, in the entire space
Planet earth, is my home, is my face
Follow your trace embrace this human race
In case, there's a new decade in human history
I'm talking about respect this is my destiny
Feel free, and stop running away
From the doubt in your mind,- never fade to grey
Planet Earth, gentle and blue
Then cold as a rock, or ice without a hue
Planet earth, made out of dust
A big ball of metal, condemn to rust
Pray, let your soul be free
Find out how to heal a bleeding wound don't stand around
Life could be paradise, peace on earth is what I found
All around in a magic world from the air to the ground
song performed by by DJ Bobo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Night-Blooming Cereus
FLOWER of the moon!
Still white is her brow whom we worshiped on earth long ago;
Yea, purer than pearls in deep seas, and more virgin than snow.
The dull years veil their eyes from her shining, and vanish afraid,
Nor profane her with age—the immortal, nor dim her with shade.
It is we are unworthy, we worldlings, to dwell in her ways;
We have broken her altars and silenced her voices of praise.
She hath hearkened to singing more silvern, seen raptures more bright;
To some planet more pure she hath fled on the wings of the night,—
Flower of the moon!
Yet she loveth the world that forsook her, for, lo! once a year
She, Diana, translucent, pale, scintillant, down from her sphere
Floateth earthward like star-laden music, to bloom in a flower,
And our hearts feel the spell of the goddess once more for an hour.
See! she sitteth in splendor nor knoweth desire nor decay,
And the night is a glory around her more bright than the day,
And her breath hath the sweetness of worlds where no sorrow is known;
And we long as we worship to follow her back to her own,—
Flower of the moon!
poem by Harriet Monroe
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The Soul of the City Receives the Gift of the Holy Spirit
A BROADSIDE DISTRIBUTED IN SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS
Censers are swinging,
Over the town;
Censers are swinging,
Look overhead!
Censers are swinging,
Heaven comes down.
City, dead city,
Awake from the dead!
Censers, tremendous,
Gleam overhead.
Wind-harps are ringing,
Wind-harps unseen—
Calling and calling:—
"Wake from the dead.
Rise, little city,
Shine like a queen."
Soldiers of Christ
For battle grow keen.
Heaven-sent winds
Haunt alley and lane.
Singing of life
In town-meadows green
After the toil
And battle and pain.
Incense is pouring
Like the spring rain
Down on the mob
That moil through the street.
Blessed are they
Who behold it and gain
Power made more mighty
Thro' every defeat.
Builders, toil on.
Make all complete.
Make Springfield wonderful.
Make her renown
Worthy this day,
Till, at God's feet,
Tranced, saved forever,
Waits the white town.
Censers are swinging
Over the town,
Censers gigantic!
Look overhead!
Hear the winds singing:—
"Heaven comes down.
City, dead city,
Awake from the dead."
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Beata Solitudo
What land of Silence,
Where pale stars shine
On apple-blossom
And dew-drenched vine,
Is yours and mine?
The silent valley
That we will find,
Where all the voices
Of humankind
Are left behind.
There all forgetting,
Forgotten quite,
We will repose us,
With our delight
Hid out of sight.
The world forsaken,
And out of mind
Honour and labour,
We shall not find
The stars unkind.
And men shall travail,
And laugh and weep;
But we have vistas
Of Gods asleep,
With dreams as deep.
A land of Silence,
Where pale stars shine
On apple-blossoms
And dew-drenched vine,
Be yours and mine!
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Planet Earth
Only came outside to watch the nightfall with the rain
I heard you making patterns rhyme like
Some new romantic looking for the tv sound
Youll see Im right some other time look now
Look all around, theres not sign of life
Voices, another sound
Can you hear me now?
This is planet earth, youre looking at planet earth
Bop bop bop bop bop bop bop bop
This is planet earth
My head is stuck on something precious let me know
If youre coming down to land is there
Anybody out there trying to get through?
My eyes are so cloudy I cant see you
Look now, look all around, theres no sign of
Life voices, another sound
Can you hear me now?
This is planet earth
Youre looking at planet earth
Bop bop bop bop bop bop bop bop
This is planet earth
Bop bop bop bop bop bop bop bop
This calling planet earth
Bop bop bop bop bop bop bop bop
This looking at planet earth
Bop bop bop bop bop bop bop bop
This is planet earth
song performed by by Face To Face
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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