Opportunity
I do not know if, climbing some steep hill,
Through fragrant wooded pass, this glimpse I bought,
Or whether in some mid-day I was caught
To upper air, where visions of God’s will
In pictures to our quickened sense fulfil
His word. But this I saw.
A path I sought
Through wall of rock. No human fingers wrought
The golden gates which opened sudden, still,
And wide. My fear was hushed by my delight.
Surpassing fair the lands; my path lay plain;
Alas, so spell-bound, feasting on the sight,
I paused, that I but reached the threshold bright,
When, swinging swift, the golden gates again
Were rocky wall, by which I wept in vain.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Related quotes
The Lost Bells
Year after year the artist wrought
With earnest, loving care,
The music flooding all his soul
To pour upon the air.
For this no metal was too rare,
He counted not the cost;
Nor deemed the years in which he toiled
As labor vainly lost.
When morning flushed with crimson light
The golden gates of day,
He longed to fill the air with chimes
Sweet as a matin's lay.
And when the sun was sinking low
Within the distant West,
He gladly heard the bells he wrought
Herald the hour of rest.
The music of a thousand harps
Could never be so dear
As when those solemn chants and thrills
Fell on his list'ning ear.
He poured his soul into their chimes,
And felt his toil repaid;
He called them children of his soul,
His home a'near them made.
But evil days came on apace,
War spread his banner wide,
And from his village snatched away
The artist's love and pride.
At dewy morn and stilly eve
The chimes no more he heard;
With dull and restless agony
His spirit's depths was stirred.
A weary longing filled his soul,
It bound him like a spell;
He left his home to seek the chimes --
The chimes he loved so well.
Where lofty fanes in grandeur rose,
Upon his ear there fell
No music like the long lost chimes
Of his beloved bell.
And thus he wandered year by year.
Touched by the hand of time,
Seeking to hear with anxious heart
Each well remembered chime.
And to that worn and weary heart
There came a glad surcease:
He heard again the dear old chimes,
And smiled and uttered peace.
"The chimes! the chimes!" the old man cried,
"I hear their tones at last;"
A sudden rapture filled his heart,
And all his cares were past.
Yes, peace had come with death's sweet calm,
His journeying was o'er,
The weary, restless wanderer
Had reached the restful shore.
It may be that he met again,
Enfolded in the air,
The dear old chimes beside the gates
Where all is bright and fair;
That he who crossed and bowed his head
When Angelus was sung
In clearer light touched golden harps
By angel fingers strung.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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The Friendly Meeting
IN spreading mantle to my chin concealed,
I trod the rocky path, so steep and grey,
Then to the wintry plain I bent my way
Uneasily, to flight my bosom steel'd.
But sudden was the newborn day reveal'd:
A maiden came, in heavenly bright array,
Like the fair creatures of the poet's lay
In realms of song. My yearning heart was heal'd.
Yet turn'd I thence, till she had onward pass'd,
While closer still the folds to draw I tried,
As though with heat self-kindled to grow warm;
But follow'd her. She stood. The die was cast!
No more within my mantle could I hide;
I threw it off,--she lay within mine arm.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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The Friendly Meeting
IN spreading mantle to my chin concealed,
I trod the rocky path, so steep and grey,
Then to the wintry plain I bent my way
Uneasily, to flight my bosom steel'd.
But sudden was the newborn day reveal'd:
A maiden came, in heavenly bright array,
Like the fair creatures of the poet's lay
In realms of song. My yearning heart was heal'd.
Yet turn'd I thence, till she had onward pass'd,
While closer still the folds to draw I tried,
As though with heat self-kindled to grow warm;
But follow'd her. She stood. The die was cast!
No more within my mantle could I hide;
I threw it off,-she lay within mine arm.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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The Nympholept
There was a boy -- not above childish fears --
With steps that faltered now and straining ears,
Timid, irresolute, yet dauntless still,
Who one bright dawn, when each remotest hill
Stood sharp and clear in Heaven's unclouded blue
And all Earth shimmered with fresh-beaded dew,
Risen in the first beams of the gladdening sun,
Walked up into the mountains. One by one
Each towering trunk beneath his sturdy stride
Fell back, and ever wider and more wide
The boundless prospect opened. Long he strayed,
From dawn till the last trace of slanting shade
Had vanished from the canyons, and, dismayed
At that far length to which his path had led,
He paused -- at such a height where overhead
The clouds hung close, the air came thin and chill,
And all was hushed and calm and very still,
Save, from abysmal gorges, where the sound
Of tumbling waters rose, and all around
The pines, by those keen upper currents blown,
Muttered in multitudinous monotone.
Here, with the wind in lovely locks laid bare,
With arms oft raised in dedicative prayer,
Lost in mute rapture and adoring wonder,
He stood, till the far noise of noontide thunder,
Rolled down upon the muffled harmonies
Of wind and waterfall and whispering trees,
Made loneliness more lone. Some Panic fear
Would seize him then, as they who seemed to hear
In Tracian valleys or Thessalian woods
The god's hallooing wake the leafy solitudes;
I think it was the same: some piercing sense
Of Deity's pervasive immanence,
The Life that visible Nature doth indwell
Grown great and near and all but palpable . . .
He might not linger, but with winged strides
Like one pursued, fled down the mountain-sides --
Down the long ridge that edged the steep ravine,
By glade and flowery lawn and upland green,
And never paused nor felt assured again
But where the grassy foothills opened. Then,
While shadows lengthened on the plain below
And the sun vanished and the sunset-glow
Looked back upon the world with fervid eye
Through the barred windows of the western sky,
Homeward he fared, while many a look behind
Showed the receding ranges dim-outlined,
Highland and hollow where his path had lain,
Veiled in deep purple of the mountain rain.
poem by Alan Seeger
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Follow the Path
Follow the path of the elders,
The wise among us who think,
And why do you think
If you do not listen to the parents?
Their path is superb.
Thinking is the philosophy of the Youth
Who look towards the gates of happiness,
The gates that bid farewell
As many times there are people.
Think you are young and old, people,
So that love is again established.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A Night At The Roman Gates
The third and the last fourth quarters, made no sound at all
The first and the fourth parts built up a sound upon an old wall
There were scaffolds of gold, traces of all riches beside the fallen towers
It’s the first night at the Roman gates: the last finders are counting the lost hours
The night swift as broken spears, the beats gather into one symphony of delight
Now God watches all this closely in silence and repose
With the Jews and Gentiles sharing a common space upon the history close
Silence prevails in cold shatter: the mood is lost through the art of these ciphers
The senators walk around in silence, building up tumults of joy to all the lifers
It’s a night at the Roman gates: the moon await in splendor and in vivified sight
History walks around tombs of ancient queens, paving words on golden wings
Still memory sweeps this silent night, and places owned before by ROMAN Kings
02-03 March 2008, a first to the collection: 'History Unbound'
poem by Sicelo Sithole
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How Fair Cinderella Disposed Of Her Shoe
The vainest girls in forty states
Were Gwendolyn and Gladys Gates;
They warbled slightly off the air,
Romantic German songs,
And each of them upon her hair
Employed the curling tongs,
And each with ardor most intense
Her buxom figure laced,
Until her wilful want of sense
Procured a woeful waist:
For bound to marry titled mates
Were Gwendolyn and Gladys Gates.
Yet, truth to tell, the swains were few
Of Gwendolyn (and Gladys, too).
So morning, afternoon, and night
Upon their sister they
Were wont to vent their selfish spite,
And in the rudest way:
For though her name was Leonore,
That's neither there nor here,
They called her Cinderella, for
The kitchen was her sphere,
Save when the hair she had to do
Of Gwendolyn (and Gladys, too).
Each night to dances and to fetes
Went Gwendolyn and Gladys Gates,
And Cinderella watched them go
In silks and satins clad:
A prince invited them, and so
They put on all they had!
But one fine night, as all alone
She watched the flames leap higher,
A small and stooping fairy crone
Stept nimbly from the fire.
Said she: 'The pride upon me grates
Of Gwendolyn and Gladys Gates.'
'I'll now,' she added, with a frown,
'Call Gwendolyn and Gladys down!'
And, ere your fingers you could snap,
There stood before the door
No paltry hired horse and trap,
Oh, no! - a coach and four!
And Cinderella, fitted out
Regardless of expense,
Made both her sisters look about
Like thirty-seven cents!
The prince, with one look at her gown,
Turned Gwendolyn and Gladys down!
Wall-flowers, when thus compared with her,
Both Gwendolyn and Gladys were.
The prince but gave them glances hard,
No gracious word he said;
He scratched their names from off his card,
And wrote hers down instead:
And where he would bestow his hand
He showed them in a trice
By handing her the kisses, and
To each of them an ice!
In sudden need of fire and fur
Both Gwendolyn and Gladys were.
At ten o'clock, in discontent,
Both Gwendolyn and Gladys went.
Their sister stayed till after two,
And, with a joy sincere,
The prince obtained her crystal shoe
By way of souvenir.
'Upon the bridal path,' he cried,
'We'll reign together! Since
I love you, you must be my bride!'
(He was no slouch, that prince!)
And into sudden languishment
Both Gwendolyn and Gladys went.
The Moral: All the girls on earth
Exaggerate their proper worth.
They think the very shoes they wear
Are worth the average millionaire;
Whereas few pairs in any town
Can be half-sold for half a crown!
poem by Guy Wetmore Carryl
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Ella with the Shining Hair
Through many a fragrant cedar grove
A darkened water moans;
And there pale Memory stood with Love
Amongst the moss-green stones.
The shimmering sunlight fell and kissed
The grasstree’s golden sheaves;
But we were troubled with a mist
Of music in the leaves.
One passed us, like a sudden gleam;
Her face was deadly fair.
“Oh, go,” we said, “you homeless Dream
Of Ella’s shining hair!
“We halt, like one with tired wings,
And we would fain forget
That there are tempting, maddening things
Too high to clutch at yet!
“Though seven Springs have filled the Wood
With pleasant hints and signs,
Since faltering feet went forth and stood
With Death amongst the pines.”
From point to point unwittingly
We wish to clamber still,
Till we have light enough to see
The summits of the hill.
“O do not cry, my sister dear,”
Said beaming Hope to Love,
“Though we have been so troubled here
The Land is calm above;
“Beyond the regions of the storm
We’ll find the golden gates,
Where, all the day, a radiant Form,
Our Ella, sits and waits.”
And Memory murmured: “She was one
Of God’s own darlings lent;
And Angels wept that she had gone,
And wondered why she went.
“I know they came, and talked to her,
Through every garden breeze,
About eternal Hills of Myrrh,
And quiet Jasper Seas.
“For her the Earth contained no charms;
All things were strange and wild;
And I believe a Seraph’s arms
Caught up the sainted Child.”
And Love looked round, and said: “Oh, you
That sit by Beulah’s streams,
Shake on this thirsty life the dew
Which brings immortal dreams!
“Ah! turn to us, and greet us oft
With looks of pitying balm,
And hints of heaven, in whispers soft,
To make our troubles calm.
“My Ella with the shining hair,
Behold, these many years,
We’ve held up wearied hands in prayer;
And groped about in tears.”
But Hope sings on: “Beyond the storm
We’ll find the golden gates
Where, all the day, a radiant Form,
Our Ella, sits and waits.”
poem by Henry Kendall
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The Wall Between
The wall between is grown so thin
That whoso peers may see
A flutter of rose, a living green
Like new leaves on a tree.
The wall's now gotten many a chink
Where whoso leans may hear
The feet of them who pass to drink
All at a well clear.
The people go, the people flow
T'other side o' the wall
With silken rustle and laughter low
As to a festival.
Come mother and wife and piteous bride,
The wall's nigh broken through;
And there be some the other side
That peep and pry for you.
So thin has grown, like a precious stone,
The wall no eye might pass,
You may have vision of your own
As through a crystal glass.
And if that sight should you delight
Your tears will all be dried,
For souls so bright that walk in white
Dear bliss on the other side.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Gates Of Eden
Guy Allison, Keith Knudsen
EarthWalk Music (ASCAP) / K-KUAD Music (ASCAP)
We've been together for a long, long while
We've seen some bad and better days.
But heart and soul are meant for all time
These are the keys we can't replace.
Let's go back to Eden,
Don't make the garden wait.
At the gates of Eden,
This golden key is all it takes.
Simple things are better said in simple ways,
I'm a simple man in love with you.
These are the gates of Eden,
Take my hand we'll walk on through.
Let's go back to Eden,
Don't make the garden wait.
At the gates of Eden,
This golden key is all it takes.
Remember we're the ones who make.
You and me
This golden key that's what it takes.
There's only one.
Let's go back to Eden,
Don't make the garden wait.
At the gates of Eden,
This golden key is all it takes.
Guest Artists:
George Hawkins, Jr. - Bass
Chris Thompson - Background Vocals
song performed by by Doobie Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To The Unwritten
To all the souls that are yet unwritten.
Keep the path of joy and love may it not be broken.
So much to learn and delight be felt.
Take heed my freinds so many experiences to be dealt.
At times it will be hard to pull,
through all the hurt, and pain befall.
Struggle through this unwritten spell,
with a song in your heart and so much care.
Give freely to you soul and earthly mates,
right on through to the pearly gates.
Your lifes path is yet unwritten.
So make it grand and spread joy and love to all of mankind.
poem by Michael McParland
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The Distant Ship
The sea-bird's wing, o'er ocean's breast
Shoots like a glancing star,
While the red radiance of the west
Spreads kindling fast and far;
And yet that splendour wins thee not,–
Thy still and thoughtful eye
Dwells but on one dark distant spot
Of all the main and sky.
Look round thee!–o'er the slumbering deep
A solemn glory broods;
A fire hath touch'd the beacon-steep,
And all the golden woods;
A thousand gorgeous clouds on high
Burn with the amber light!–
What spell, from that rich pageantry,
Chains down thy gazing sight?
A softening thought of human cares,
A feeling link'd to earth!
Is not yon speck a bark, which bears
The lov'd of many a hearth?
Oh! do not Hope, and Grief, and Fear,
Crowd her frail world even now,
And manhood's prayer and woman's tear,
Follow her venturous prow?
Bright are the floating clouds above,
The glittering seas below;
But we are bound by cords of love
To kindred weal and wo.
Therefore, amidst this wide array
Of glorious things and fair,
My soul is on that bark's lone way,–
For human hearts are there.
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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On the Wall
Dog was
Pass urine
Upthe leg on the wall...
Human also pass
Urine stand the leg
On the wall
The wall tell the human
'you also good dog
But...
Bad human...'
No problem human
Pass the urine tenson free...
On the wall....!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Epithalamium : Another Version
Night, with all thine eyes look down!
Darkness shed its holiest dew!
When ever smiled the inconstant moon
On a pair so true?
Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
BOYS:
O joy! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
The golden gates of sleep unbar!
When strength and beauty meet together,
Kindles their image like a star
In a sea of glassy weather.
Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
GIRLS:
O joy! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
Fairies! sprites! and angels, keep her!
Holiest powers, permit no wrong!
And return, to wake the sleeper,
Dawn, ere it be long.
Hence, swift hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, coy hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
BOYS AND GIRLS:
O joy! O fear! what will be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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The path is fear ridden
My path: how long; how far; how good; who knows?
The path seems clear yet there seems fear.
Vultures circle while chicks are on pecking;
Tigers prowl while cows are on grazing.
Fish, big and small, swim in the same lake.
Food is sought but dangers interfere;
Rest is sought but hunger demands a break.
Love is sought but bindings do throw a fright.
My path: how up; how straight; how wide; who knows?
The moon and stars dispel dark, so fear
But in my birth chart, they rule to my fear.
The God will save you, , the god men promise.
They did not take me to Ethiopia
Nor did they show me El Dorado.
I could find a place a pool or ditch
Only when I reach there, guidelines failing.
My path: how safe; how smooth; how live; who knows?
I fear animals and walk with men
In rows or as a part of caravan
And find animals better than men.
Phobia struck, I still wander with men,
Who I hope can be my companions,
Losing them as out of sight or dropp outs
In the course of my walk, fear undying..
My path: how rich; how cool; how free; who knows?
Set in a journey, I move as I’ve to.
The journey was born without my knowledge
And it would end with out any notice.
I move to prey and not to be a pray,
Hoping that I could succeed in my stay.
Each foot I set with hope along with fear.
Cheers or tears, I move as I’ve to.
dt.0505’07
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Epithalamium
Another Version Of 'A Bridal Song'.
Night, with all thine eyes look down!
Darkness shed its holiest dew!
When ever smiled the inconstant moon
On a pair so true?
Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
BOYS:
O joy! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
The golden gates of sleep unbar!
When strength and beauty meet together,
Kindles their image like a star
In a sea of glassy weather.
Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
GIRLS:
O joy! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
Fairies! sprites! and angels, keep her!
Holiest powers, permit no wrong!
And return, to wake the sleeper,
Dawn, ere it be long.
Hence, swift hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, coy hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
BOYS AND GIRLS:
O joy! O fear! what will be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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This Time When I Met Her
Gorgeous.. fulgent.. self-esteemed
Surpassing any beauty heavenly
Tinseling her aureolin in racemes
'twixt her buddy-green all gleeful
Round her aureole buzzing beetles
In swinging breeze singing a melody
Caught awe-struck drowned my mind
Then my heart, my soul all pretty
She demanded a song from me
For her to dance an elysian style
Awe-struck me in silence too silent
'A song' she demanded...only in vain
My ear drums beat me..only in vain
Angry her one grape - bunch cursed me
Then paled bunches all slowly faded
She's gone buzzing beetle me waiting
Who's she? flora Golden Shower
Golden Shower-Cassia Fistula(Sarakondrai)
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Two Look at Two
Love and forgetting might have carried them
A little further up the mountain side
With night so near, but not much further up.
They must have halted soon in any case
With thoughts of a path back, how rough it was
With rock and washout, and unsafe in darkness;
When they were halted by a tumbled wall
With barbed-wire binding. They stood facing this,
Spending what onward impulse they still had
In One last look the way they must not go,
On up the failing path, where, if a stone
Or earthslide moved at night, it moved itself;
No footstep moved it. 'This is all,' they sighed,
Good-night to woods.' But not so; there was more.
A doe from round a spruce stood looking at them
Across the wall, as near the wall as they.
She saw them in their field, they her in hers.
The difficulty of seeing what stood still,
Like some up-ended boulder split in two,
Was in her clouded eyes; they saw no fear there.
She seemed to think that two thus they were safe.
Then, as if they were something that, though strange,
She could not trouble her mind with too long,
She sighed and passed unscared along the wall.
'This, then, is all. What more is there to ask?'
But no, not yet. A snort to bid them wait.
A buck from round the spruce stood looking at them
Across the wall as near the wall as they.
This was an antlered buck of lusty nostril,
Not the same doe come back into her place.
He viewed them quizzically with jerks of head,
As if to ask, 'Why don't you make some motion?
Or give some sign of life? Because you can't.
I doubt if you're as living as you look."
Thus till he had them almost feeling dared
To stretch a proffering hand -- and a spell-breaking.
Then he too passed unscared along the wall.
Two had seen two, whichever side you spoke from.
'This must be all.' It was all. Still they stood,
A great wave from it going over them,
As if the earth in one unlooked-for favour
Had made them certain earth returned their love.
poem by Robert Frost
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Cemetary Gates
Reverend, reverend,
Is this a conspiracy?
Crucified for no sins
No revenge... beneath me.
Lost within my plans for life,
It all seems so unreal.
Im a man cut in half in this world,
Left in my misery.
(instrumental)
The reverend he turned to me
Without a tear in his eyes.
Its nothing new for him to see,
I didnt ask him why.
I will remember...
The love our souls had sworn to make.
Now I watch the falling rain
All my mind can see now is your (face).
Well I guess
You took my youth
And gave it all away.
Like the birth of a new found joy,
This love would end in rage...
And when she died
I couldnt cry,
The pride within my soul.
You left me incomplete
All alone as the memories now unfold.
Believe the word.
I will unlock my door...
And pass the cemetery gates.
Sometimes when Im alone,
I wonder aloud,
If youre watching over me
Some place far abound.
I must reverse my life
I cant live in the past.
Then set my soul free,
Belong to me at last.
Through all those complex years
I thought I was alone.
I didnt care to look around
And make this world my own...
And when she died
I shouldve cried and spared myself some pain.
You left me incomplete,
All alone as the memories still remain.
The way we were,
The chance to save my soul...
And my concern is now in vain.
Believe the word,
I will unlock my door...
And pass the cemetery... gates
(instrumental)
The way we were,
The chance to save my soul...
And my concern is now in vain.
Believe the word,
I will unlock my door...
And pass the cemetery...
Gates!
Gates!
Gates!
song performed by by Pantera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Was an English Ladye Bright
It was an English ladye bright,
(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,)
And she would marry a Scottish knight,
For Love will still be lord of all.
Blithely they saw the rising sun
When he shone fair on Carlisle wall;
But they were sad ere day was done,
Though Love was still the lord of all.
Her sire gave brooch and jewel fine,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall;
Her brother gave but a flask of wine,
For ire that Love was lord of all.
For she had lands both meadow and lea,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,
And he swore her death, ere he would see
A Scottish knight the lord of all.
That wine she had not tasted well
(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,)
When dead, in her true love's arms, she fell,
For Love was still the lord of all!
He pierced her brother to the heart,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall:--
So perish all would true love part
That Love may still be lord of all!
And then he took the cross divine,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,
And died for her sake in Palestine;
So Love was still the lord of all.
Now all ye lovers, that faithful prove,
(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,)
Pray for their souls who died for love,
For Love shall still be lord of all!
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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