To Henry Halloran
YOU KNOW I left my forest home full loth,
And those weird ways I knew so well and long,
Dishevelled with their sloping sidelong growth
Of twisted thorn and kurrajong.
It seems to me, my friend (and this wild thought
Of all wild thoughts, doth chiefly make me bleed),
That in those hills and valleys wonder-fraught,
I loved and lost a noble creed.
A splendid creed! But let me even turn
And hide myself from what I’ve seen, and try
To fathom certain truths you know, and learn
The Beauty shining in your sky:
Remembering you in ardent autumn nights,
And Stenhouse near you, like a fine stray guest
Of other days, with all his lore of lights
So manifold and manifest!
Then hold me firm. I cannot choose but long
For that which lies and burns beyond my reach,
Suggested in your steadfast, subtle song
And his most marvellous speech!
For now my soul goes drifting back again,
Ay, drifting, drifting, like the silent snow
While scattered sheddings, in a fall of rain,
Revive the dear lost Long Ago!
The time I, loitering by untrodden fens,
Intent upon low-hanging lustrous skies,
Heard mellowed psalms from sounding southern glens—
Euroma, dear to dreaming eyes!
And caught seductive tokens of a voice
Half maddened with the dim, delirious themes
Of perfect Love, and the immortal choice
Of starry faces—Astral dreams!
That last was yours! And if you sometimes find
An alien darkness on the front of things,
Sing none the less for Life, nor fall behind,
Like me, with trailing, tired wings!
Yea, though the heavy Earth wears sackcloth now
Because she hath the great prophetic grief
Which makes me set my face one way, and bow
And falter for a far belief,
Be faithful yet for all, my brave bright peer,
In that rare light you hold so true and good;
And find me something clearer than the clear
White spaces of Infinitude.
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Eighteen Hundred and Sixty-Four
I HEAR no footfall beating through the dark,
A lonely gust is loitering at the pane;
There is no sound within these forests stark
Beyond a splash or two of sullen rain;
But you are with us! and our patient land
Is filled with long-expected change at last,
Though we have scarce the heart to lift a hand
Of welcome, after all the yearning past!
Ah! marvel not; the days and nights were long
And cold and dull and dashed with many tears;
And lately there hath been a doleful song,
Of “Mene, Mene,” in our restless ears!
Indeed, we’ve said, “The royal son of Time,
Whose feet will shortly cross our threshold floor,
May lead us to those outer heights sublime
Our Sires have sold their lives to see before!
We’ll follow him! Beyond the waves and wrecks
Of years fulfilled, some fine results must lie;
We’ll pass the last of all wild things that vex
The pale, sad face of our Humanity!”
But now our fainting feet are loth to stray
From trodden paths; our eyes with pain are blind!
We’ve lost fair treasures by the weary way;
We cry, like children, to be left behind.
Our human speech is dim. Yet, latest born
Of God’s Eternity, there came to me,
In saddened streets last week, from lips forlorn
A sound more solemn than the sleepless sea!
O, Rachael! Rachael! We have heard the cries
In Rama, stranger, o’er our darling dead;
And seen our mothers with the heavy eyes,
Who would not hearken to be comforted!
Then lead us gently! It must come to pass
That some of us shall halt and faint and fall;
For we are looking through a darkened glass,
And Heaven seems far, and faith grows cold and pale.
I know, for one, I need a subtle strength
I have not yet to hold me from a fall;
What time I cry to God within the length
Of weary hours; my face against the wall!
My mourning brothers! in the long, still nights,
When sleep is wilful, and the lone moon shines,
Bethink you of the silent, silver lights,
And darks with Death amongst the moody pines!
Then, though you cannot shut a stricken face
Away from you, this hope will come about
That Christ hath sent again throughout the place
Some signs of Love to worst and weaken doubt.
So you may find in every afterthought
A peace beyond your best expression dear;
And haply hearken to the Voice which wrought
Such strength in Peter on the seas of fear!
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Drifting Away
(orbison/dees)
Sadness slips into the room
On silent steps of sorrow
Stealing sleep and all my dreams
Where will we be tomorrow?
Lying with you, crying with you, drifting
Talking till dawn yet we go on, drifting
Dont understand where we began just drifting apart
Drifting apart feeling alone drifting away
We cant seem to work it out
Drifting from day to day
Wasnt it all about, drifting away
Drifting away, drifting away
Losing the feeling
And now the music of the song is almost gone
That we used to play
From sweet surrender from drifting away, drifting
Two lovers lost two rivers crossed, drifting
Two bridges burned, no lesson learned, drifting
Lonely together, hurting each other
Still we cant say that its over
Can we bring back yesterday?
Will we be forever, forever drifting away
Drifting, drifting away
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Drifting
Drifting, drifting, drifting away.
I got myself a mansion, then I gave it away.
It's not the world that's heavy, just the things that you save.
And I'm drifting, drifting away.
Drifting, drifting, drifting along.
I rid myself of worries, and the worries were gone.
I only run when I want to and I sleep like a dog.
I'm just drifting, drifting along.
The suitcoats say, "There is money to be made."
They get so damn excited, but I guess it's their way.
My road it may be lonely just because it's not paved.
It's good for drifting, drifting away.
The suitcoats say, "There is money to be made."
They get so damn excited, nothing gets in their way
My road it may be lonely just because it's not paved.
It's good for drifting, drifting away.
Drifting, drifting, drifting, uh huh.
I feel like going back there, but never for long.
I sometimes wonder if they know that I'm gone.
I'm just drifting, drifting along.
Drifting, drifting along. Drifting, drifting along.
Merry Christmas...
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Its Alright
Its alright what you confess to me
Where youre at right now baby, its alright with me
Behind your truths or somewhere inside your lies
These long cold days of gray, they color your eyes
And its alright, what you confide in me
Where were at right now baby, its where we need to be
And I can see things so clearly through tear-stained eyes
The side effects of time in all our good-byes, and its alright
I got lost some time ago,
Lost in your song, your touch, your smile
And where I want to grow old
And you glimmer and gleam like a blond-washed hair from an ocean-side domain
Drifting into me, I found myself again, in her song
Its alright what you say to me
How you feel right now baby, shows an everlasting need
Behind the truth, theres something inside your lies
These long cold days of rain, theyre hiding your eyes
And its alright, what you express to me
Your song escapes me to this place I want to be
So sing to me baby, your song can carry me
Through endless weeks of rain and onto sweeter things
And its alright
I got lost some time ago,
Lost in your song, your touch, your smile
And where I want to grow old
And you glimmer and gleam like a blond-washed hair from an ocean-side domain
Drifting into me, I found myself again, in her song
Oh sing to me baby, your song can carry me
In all shes revealed I found I could always see
How her ways could flow and run over me
And I found this reason to learn
And I found this reason to decide
As many days come and many days go
Ill never know why
And its alright
I got lost some time ago,
Lost in your song, your touch, your smile
And where I want to grow old
And you glimmer and gleam like a blond-washed hair from an ocean-side domain
Drifting into me, I found myself again, in her song
song performed by by Candlebox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Euterpe
CHILD of Light, the bright, the bird-like! wilt thou float and float to me,
Facing winds and sleets and waters, flying glimpses of the sea?
Down amongst the hills of tempest, where the elves of tumult roam—
Blown wet shadows of the summits, dim sonorous sprites of foam?
Here and here my days are wasted, shorn of leaf and stript of fruit:
Vexed because of speech half spoken, maiden with the marvellous lute!
Vexed because of songs half-shapen, smit with fire and mixed with pain:
Part of thee, and part of Sorrow, like a sunset pale with rain.
Child of Light, the bright, the bird-like! wilt thou float and float to me
Facing winds and sleets and waters, flying glimpses of the sea?
All night long, in fluent pauses, falling far, but full, but fine,
Faultless friend of flowers and fountains, do I hear that voice of thine—
All night long, amidst the burden of the lordly storm, that sings
High above the tumbled forelands, fleet and fierce with thunderings!
Then and then, my love, Euterpe, lips of life replete with dreams
Murmur for thy sweet, sharp fragments dying down Lethean streams:
Murmur for thy mouth’s marred music, splendid hints that burn and break,
Heavy with excess of beauty: murmur for thy music’s sake.
All night long, in fluent pauses, falling far, but full, but fine,
Faultless friend of flowers and fountains, do I hear that voice of thine.
In the yellow flame of evening sound of thee doth come and go
Through the noises of the river, and the drifting of the snow:
In the yellow flame of evening—at the setting of the day—
Sound that lightens, falls and lightens, flickers, faints and fades away.
I am famished of thy silence—broken for the tender note
Caught with its surpassing passion—caught and strangled in thy throat!
We have nought to help thy trouble—nought for that which lieth mute
On the harpstring and the lutestring and the spirit of the lute.
In the yellow flame of evening sound of thee doth come and go
Through the noises of the river, and the drifting of the snow.
Daughter of the dead red summers! Men that laugh and men that weep
Call thee Music—shall I follow, choose their name, and turn and sleep?
What thou art, behold, I know not; but thy honey slakes and slays
Half the want which whitens manhood in the stress of alien days!
Even as a wondrous woman, struck with love and great desire,
Hast thou been to me, Euterpe! half of tears and half of fire.
But thy joy is swift and fitful; and a subtle sense of pain
Sighs through thy melodious breathing, takes the rapture from thy strain,
Daughter of the dead red summers! Men that laugh and men that weep
Call thee Music—shall I follow, choose their name, and turn and sleep?
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
William Bede Dalley
That love of letters which is as the light
Of deathless verse, intense, ineffable,
Hath made this scholar’s nature like the white,
Pure Roman soul of whom the poets tell.
He having lived so long with lords of thought,
The grand hierophants of speech and song,
Hath from the high, august communion caught
Some portion of their inspiration strong.
The clear, bright atmosphere through which he looks
Is one by no dim, close horizon bound;
The power shed as flame from noble books
Hath made for him a larger world around.
And he, thus strengthened with the fourfold force
Which scholarship to genius gives, is one
That liberal thinkers, pausing in their course,
With fine esteem are glad to look upon.
He, with the faultless intuition born
Of splendid faculties, sees things aright,
And all his strong, immeasurable scorn
Falls like a thunder on the hypocrite.
But for the sufferer and the son of shame
On whom remorse — a great, sad burden — lies,
His kindness glistens like a morning flame,
Immense compassion shines within his eyes.
Firm to the Church by which his fathers stood,
But tolerant to every form of creed,
He longs for universal brotherhood,
And is a Christian gentleman indeed.
These in his honour. May his life be long,
And, like a summer with a brilliant close,
As full of music as a perfect song,
As radiant as a rich, unhandled rose.
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Laura Days
Dreaming to-day in a forest green
Where the great gums rake the sky,
My thoughts turn back to another scene
And to old days, long gone by;
To a land of youth, and a youth's employ,
And - to filch another's phrase -
To the men who were boys, when I was a boy,
In the long gone Laura days.
To a little town that nestles down
By the hills of Beetaloo,
Where a youth dreamed dreams of fair renown,
And a man's ambition grew,
'Twas here his earliest songs were sung
And he won his earliest praise
From men who were young when he was young
In the long gone Laura days.
Spicer, Stockdale, Ballantyne,
Marrie, Mitchell and Braund;
How many a right good pal of mine
Has gone from that sunlit land.
How many a man, how many a lad,
Whose head now slowly greys,
To a song grew glad as I grew glad
In those long gone Laura days.
Susman, Sibly and Dr Cook,
Blume and Barrington,
Oh! the lives of some are a long-closed book,
But many a tale runs on.
Hollis and Harvey, Chandler, Green
Are gone their various ways,
But I see them all in the olden scene
Of the long gone Laura days.
I see them still, I see the town
Under those scrub-clad hills,
The shops where the quiet street runs down,
Wilson, Rowland, Bills.
Taylor, Weste, Felstead too,
Cole of the kindly ways,
And many other friends I knew
In the long gone Laura days.
And the names of some come slow to mind,
But the faces greet me clear,
And I hold them all as men most kind,
As I hold the old town dear;
And so in memory to the end
That old time picture stays,
For I see each face as a faithful friend
Of the far off Laura days.
To the ladies all I lift a glass,
And toast with a right good will,
Every matron, every lass, who
Shine in memory still,
Fair would I hymn them all in rhyme
With soaring song of praise,
Friends of mine from a golden time
In the long gone Laura days.
When the evening sun slants through the gums,
By my forest-rimmed abode,
Once more the old clear picture comes,
And my mind drifts down the road;
Back to the town by Beetaloo,
Where the Rocky River strays;
Back to the old kind friends I knew
In the dear dead Laura days.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In Memoriam~ -- Alice Fane Gunn Stenhouse
The grand, authentic songs that roll
Across grey widths of wild-faced sea,
The lordly anthems of the Pole,
Are loud upon the lea.
Yea, deep and full the South Wind sings
The mighty symphonies that make
A thunder at the mountain springs -
A whiteness on the lake.
And where the hermit hornet hums,
When Summer fires his wings with gold,
The hollow voice of August comes,
Across the rain and cold.
Now on the misty mountain tops,
Where gleams the crag and glares the fell,
Wild Winter, like one hunted, stops
And shouts a fierce farewell.
Keen fitful gusts shoot past the shore
And hiss by moor and moody mere -
The heralds bleak that come before
The turning of the year.
A sobbing spirit wanders where
By fits and starts the wild-fire shines;
Like one who walks in deep despair,
With Death amongst the pines.
And ah! the fine, majestic grief
Which fills the heart of forests lone,
And makes a lute of limb and leaf
Is human in its tone.
Too human for the thought to slip -
How every song that sorrow sings
Betrays the broad relationship
Of all created things.
Man's mournful speech, the wail of tree,
The words the winds and waters say,
Make up that general elegy,
Whose burden is decay.
To-night my soul looks back and sees,
Across wind-broken wastes of wave,
A widow on her bended knees
Beside a new-made grave.
A sufferer with a touching face
By love and grief made beautiful;
Whose rapt religion lights the place
Where death holds awful rule.
The fair, tired soul whose twofold grief
For child and father lends a tone
Of pathos to the pallid leaf
That sighs above the stone.
The large beloved heart whereon
She used to lean, lies still and cold,
Where, like a seraph, shines the sun
On flowerful green and gold.
I knew him well - the grand, the sweet,
Pure nature past all human praise;
The dear Gamaliel at whose feet
I sat in other days.
He, glorified by god-like lore,
First showed my soul Life's highest aim;
When, like one winged, I breathed - before
The years of sin and shame.
God called him Home. And, in the calm
Beyond our best possessions priced,
He passed, as floats a faultless psalm,
To his fair Father, Christ.
But left as solace for the hours
Of sorrow and the loss thereof;
A sister of the birds and flowers,
The daughter of his love.
She, like a stray sweet seraph, shed
A healing spirit, that flamed and flowed
As if about her bright young head
A crown of saintship glowed.
Suppressing, with sublime self-slight,
The awful face of that distress
Which fell upon her youth like blight,
She shone like happiness.
And, in the home so sanctified
By death in its most noble guise,
She kissed the lips of love, and dried
The tears in sorrow's eyes.
And helped the widowed heart to lean,
So broken up with human cares,
On one who must be felt and seen
By such pure souls as hers.
Moreover, having lived, and learned
The taste of Life's most bitter spring,
For all the sick this sister yearned -
The poor and suffering.
But though she had for every one
The phrase of comfort and the smile,
This shining daughter of the sun
Was dying all the while.
Yet self-withdrawn - held out of reach
Was grief; except when music blent
Its deep, divine, prophetic speech
With voice and instrument.
Then sometimes would escape a cry
From that dark other life of hers -
The half of her humanity -
And sob through sound and verse.
At last there came the holy touch,
With psalms from higher homes and hours;
And she who loved the flowers so much
Now sleeps amongst the flowers.
By hearse-like yews and grey-haired moss,
Where wails the wind in starts and fits,
Twice bowed and broken down with loss,
The wife, the mother sits.
God help her soul! She cannot see,
For very trouble, anything
Beyond this wild Gethsemane
Of swift, black suffering;
Except it be that faltering faith
Which leads the lips of life to say:
'There must be something past this death -
Lord, teach me how to pray!'
Ah, teach her, Lord! And shed through grief
The clear full light, the undefiled,
The blessing of the bright belief
Which sanctified her child.
Let me, a son of sin and doubt,
Whose feet are set in ways amiss -
Who cannot read Thy riddle out,
Just plead, and ask Thee this;
Give her the eyes to see the things -
The Life and Love I cannot see;
And lift her with the helping wings
Thou hast denied to me.
Yea, shining from the highest blue
On those that sing by Beulah's streams,
Shake on her thirsty soul the dew
Which brings immortal dreams.
So that her heart may find the great,
Pure faith for which it looks so long;
And learn the noble way to wait,
To suffer, and be strong.
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Leaves from Australian Forests (12 Sonnets)
I
A Mountain Spring
Peace hath an altar there. The sounding feet
Of thunder and the ’wildering wings of rain
Against fire-rifted summits flash and beat,
And through grey upper gorges swoop and strain;
But round that hallowed mountain-spring remain,
Year after year, the days of tender heat,
And gracious nights, whose lips with flowers are sweet,
And filtered lights, and lutes of soft refrain.
A still, bright pool. To men I may not tell
The secret that its heart of water knows,
The story of a loved and lost repose;
Yet this I say to cliff and close-leaved dell:
A fitful spirit haunts yon limpid well,
Whose likeness is the faithless face of Rose.
II
Laura
If Laura—lady of the flower-soft face—
Should light upon these verses, she may take
The tenderest line, and through its pulses trace
What man can suffer for a woman’s sake.
For in the nights that burn, the days that break,
A thin pale figure stands in Passion’s place,
And peace comes not, nor yet the perished grace
Of youth, to keep old faiths and fires awake.
Ah! marvellous maid. Life sobs, and sighing saith,
“She left me, fleeting like a fluttered dove;
But I would have a moment of her breath,
So I might taste the sweetest sense thereof,
And catch from blossoming, honeyed lips of love
Some faint, some fair, some dim, delicious death.”
III
By a River
By red-ripe mouth and brown, luxurious eyes
Of her I love, by all your sweetness shed
In far, fair days, on one whose memory flies
To faithless lights, and gracious speech gainsaid,
I pray you, when yon river-path I tread,
Make with the woodlands some soft compromise,
Lest they should vex me into fruitless sighs
With visions of a woman’s gleaming head!
For every green and golden-hearted thing
That gathers beauty in that shining place,
Beloved of beams and wooed by wind and wing,
Is rife with glimpses of her marvellous face;
And in the whispers of the lips of Spring
The music of her lute-like voice I trace.
IV
Attila
What though his feet were shod with sharp, fierce flame,
And death and ruin were his daily squires,
The Scythian, helped by Heaven’s thunders, came:
The time was ripe for God’s avenging fires.
Lo! loose, lewd trulls, and lean, luxurious liars
Had brought the fair, fine face of Rome to shame,
And made her one with sins beyond a name—
That queenly daughter of imperial sires!
The blood of elders like the blood of sheep,
Was dashed across the circus. Once while din
And dust and lightnings, and a draggled heap
Of beast-slain men made lords with laughter leap,
Night fell, with rain. The earth, so sick of sin,
Had turned her face into the dark to weep.
V
A Reward
Because a steadfast flame of clear intent
Gave force and beauty to full-actioned life;
Because his way was one of firm ascent,
Whose stepping-stones were hewn of change and strife;
Because as husband loveth noble wife
He loved fair Truth; because the thing he meant
To do, that thing he did, nor paused, nor bent
In face of poor and pale conclusions; yea!
Because of this, how fares the Leader dead?
What kind of mourners weep for him to-day?
What golden shroud is at his funeral spread?
Upon his brow what leaves of laurel, say?
About his breast is tied a sackcloth grey,
And knots of thorns deface his lordly head.
VI To ——
A handmaid to the genius of thy song
Is sweet, fair Scholarship. ’Tis she supplies
The fiery spirit of the passioned eyes
With subtle syllables, whose notes belong
To some chief source of perfect melodies;
And glancing through a laurelled, lordly throng
Of shining singers, lo! my vision flies
To William Shakespeare! He it is whose strong,
Full, flute-like music haunts thy stately verse.
A worthy Levite of his court thou art!
One sent among us to defeat the curse
That binds us to the Actual. Yea, thy part,
Oh, lute-voiced lover! is to lull the heart
Of love repelled, its darkness to disperse.
VII
The Stanza of Childe Harold
Who framed the stanza of Childe Harold? He
It was who, halting on a stormy shore,
Knew well the lofty voice which evermore,
In grand distress, doth haunt the sleepless sea
With solemn sounds. And as each wave did roll
Till one came up, the mightiest of the whole,
To sweep and surge across the vacant lea,
Wild words were wedded to wild melody.
This poet must have had a speechless sense
Of some dead summer’s boundless affluence;
Else, whither can we trace the passioned lore
Of Beauty, steeping to the very core
His royal verse, and that rare light which lies
About it, like a sunset in the skies?
VIII
A Living Poet
He knows the sweet vexation in the strife
Of Love with Time, this bard who fain would stray
To fairer place beyond the storms of life,
With astral faces near him day by day.
In deep-mossed dells the mellow waters flow
Which best he loves; for there the echoes, rife
With rich suggestions of his long ago,
Astarte, pass with thee! And, far away,
Dear southern seasons haunt the dreamy eye:
Spring, flower-zoned, and Summer, warbling low
In tasselled corn, alternate come and go,
While gypsy Autumn, splashed from heel to thigh
With vine-blood, treads the leaves; and, halting nigh,
Wild Winter bends across a beard of snow.
IX
Dante and Virgil
When lost Francesca sobbed her broken tale
Of love and sin and boundless agony,
While that wan spirit by her side did wail
And bite his lips for utter misery—
The grief which could not speak, nor hear, nor see—
So tender grew the superhuman face
Of one who listened, that a mighty trace
Of superhuman woe gave way, and pale
The sudden light up-struggled to its place;
While all his limbs began to faint and fail
With such excess of pity. But, behind,
The Roman Virgil stood—the calm, the wise—
With not a shadow in his regal eyes,
A stately type of all his stately kind.
X
Rest
Sometimes we feel so spent for want of rest,
We have no thought beyond. I know to-day,
When tired of bitter lips and dull delay
With faithless words, I cast mine eyes upon
The shadows of a distant mountain-crest,
And said “That hill must hide within its breast
Some secret glen secluded from the sun.
Oh, mother Nature! would that I could run
Outside to thee; and, like a wearied guest,
Half blind with lamps, and sick of feasting, lay
An aching head on thee. Then down the streams
The moon might swim, and I should feel her grace,
While soft winds blew the sorrows from my face,
So quiet in the fellowship of dreams.”
XI
After Parting
I cannot tell what change hath come to you
To vex your splendid hair. I only know
One grief. The passion left betwixt us two,
Like some forsaken watchfire, burneth low.
’Tis sad to turn and find it dying so,
Without a hope of resurrection! Yet,
O radiant face that found me tired and lone!
I shall not for the dear, dead past forget
The sweetest looks of all the summers gone.
Ah! time hath made familiar wild regret;
For now the leaves are white in last year’s bowers,
And now doth sob along the ruined leas
The homeless storm from saddened southern seas,
While March sits weeping over withered flowers.
XII
Alfred Tennyson
The silvery dimness of a happy dream
I’ve known of late. Methought where Byron moans,
Like some wild gulf in melancholy zones,
I passed tear-blinded. Once a lurid gleam
Of stormy sunset loitered on the sea,
While, travelling troubled like a straitened stream,
The voice of Shelley died away from me.
Still sore at heart, I reached a lake-lit lea.
And then the green-mossed glades with many a grove,
Where lies the calm which Wordsworth used to love,
And, lastly, Locksley Hall, from whence did rise
A haunting song that blew and breathed and blew
With rare delights. ’Twas there I woke and knew
The sumptuous comfort left in drowsy eyes.
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dance With Me Tonight
Love in my heart is in motion, love in my thoughts are devotion
To find someone like you is a melody that comes true...
And now all I have to say is I want you...
Love is wonders of the universe running ramped like a current so lost in you.
Love like words a million times I want you here by my side, hold me, kiss me, touch me,
Like the ocean free I just want you to me.
Tell me we will be in love my girl.
Dance with me tonight we see the starry night.
Dance with me Dance with me I want to make you mine.
This hour, this minute, this second I give my soul to you.
Dance with me hold me tight.
I want to dance with you I want to see you through.
Kiss you forever.
Dreaming many nights praying for your love in my sight
I don’t know what to say to you,
But I know how to love you.
I want to be your kiss, I want to be your tear like a rainy day Dance away come back to me, like a candle waving bye I sigh I cry to be a part of you.
Wondering about the days that lay ahead is said to be the best thoughts of you and me.
I want you I need you.
Now before I met you the world was just a fantasy made up in my own world now I met you and you make me complete,
So lost in to a heart you built upon me.
Dance with me tonight we see the starry night.
Dance with me Dance with me I want to make you mine.
This hour, this minute, this second I give my soul to you.
Dance with me hold me tight.
I want to dance with you I want to see you through.
Kiss you forever.
You know how long I waited to see that day you and I like
Crystal diamonds glitter in the sky,
I never want to make you cry.
I wonder some days as I sigh about how to sweetly hold you near, to kiss my love on to you dear,
Deep in my mind I sing to you, bold is my love a desire in my Soul makes me flames higher.
A fire that burns I want to know, your love all I have
You’re the one I love for true, I want you.
Now soon to be with you I want it all, the world I give if I could to you
Dance with me my desire I admire my thoughts are high on you.
Dance with me tonight we see the starry night.
Dance with me Dance with me I want to make you mine.
This hour, this minute, this second I give my soul to you.
Dance with me hold me tight.
I want to dance with you I want to see you through.
Kiss you forever.
You now make dreams complete sing to me I sing to you
Let us be as one my girl your words heavenly
Hold me near be with me I want to be that soul mate
Say to me we shall be never apart but love every day a brand New start.
Love me now kiss me there touch me how dance with me…
Dance with me tonight we see the starry night.
Dance with me Dance with me I want to make you mine.
This hour, this minute, this second I give my soul to you.
Dance with me hold me tight.
I want to dance with you I want to see you through.
Kiss you forever.
poem by Samuel G W Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Coogee
Sing the song of wave-worn Coogee, Coogee in the distance white,
With its jags and points disrupted, gaps and fractures fringed with light;
Haunt of gledes, and restless plovers of the melancholy wail
Ever lending deeper pathos to the melancholy gale.
There, my brothers, down the fissures, chasms deep and wan and wild,
Grows the sea-bloom, one that blushes like a shrinking, fair, blind child;
And amongst the oozing forelands many a glad, green rock-vine runs,
Getting ease on earthy ledges, sheltered from December suns.
Often, when a gusty morning, rising cold and grey and strange,
Lifts its face from watery spaces, vistas full with cloudy change,
Bearing up a gloomy burden which anon begins to wane,
Fading in the sudden shadow of a dark, determined rain,
Do I seek an eastern window, so to watch the breakers beat
Round the steadfast crags of Coogee, dim with drifts of driving sleet:
Hearing hollow mournful noises sweeping down a solemn shore,
While the grim sea-caves are tideless, and the storm strives at their core.
Often when the floating vapours fill the silent autumn leas,
Dreaming mem’ries fall like moonlight over silver sleeping seas.
Youth and I and Love together! Other times and other themes
Come to me unsung, unwept for, through the faded evening gleams:
Come to me and touch me mutely — I that looked and longed so well,
Shall I look and yet forget them? — who may know or who foretell?
Though the southern wind roams, shadowed with its immemorial grief,
Where the frosty wings of Winter leave their whiteness on the leaf.
Friend of mine beyond the waters, here and here these perished days
Haunt me with their sweet dead faces and their old divided ways.
You that helped and you that loved me, take this song, and when you read,
Let the lost things come about you, set your thoughts and hear and heed.
Time has laid his burden on us — we who wear our manhood now,
We would be the boys we have been, free of heart and bright of brow —
Be the boys for just an hour, with the splendour and the speech
Of thy lights and thunders, Coogee, flying up thy gleaming beach.
Heart’s desire and heart’s division! who would come and say to me,
With the eyes of far-off friendship, “You are as you used to be”?
Something glad and good has left me here with sickening discontent,
Tired of looking, neither knowing what it was or where it went.
So it is this sight of Coogee, shining in the morning dew,
Sets me stumbling through dim summers once on fire with youth and you —
Summers pale as southern evenings when the year has lost its power
And the wasted face of April weeps above the withered flower.
Not that seasons bring no solace, not that time lacks light and rest;
But the old things were the dearest and the old loves seem the best.
We that start at songs familiar, we that tremble at a tone
Floating down the ways of music, like a sigh of sweetness flown,
We can never feel the freshness, never find again the mood
Left among fair-featured places, brightened of our brotherhood.
This and this we have to think of when the night is over all,
And the woods begin to perish and the rains begin to fall
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Easter Day, II
So in the sinful streets, abstracted and alone,
I with my secret self held communing of mine own.
So in the southern city spake the tongue
Of one that somewhat overwildly sung,
But in a later hour I sat and heard
Another voice that spake another graver word.
Weep not, it bade, whatever hath been said,
Though He be dead, He is not dead.
In the true creed
He is yet risen indeed;
Christ is yet risen.
Weep not beside His tomb,
Ye women unto whom
He was great comfort and yet greater grief;
Nor ye, ye faithful few that wont with Him to roam,
Seek sadly what for Him ye left, go hopeless to your home;
Nor ye despair, ye sharers yet to be of their belief;
Though He be dead, He is not dead,
Nor gone, though fled,
Not lost, though vanished;
Though He return not, though
He lies and moulders low;
In the true creed
He is yet risen indeed;
Christ is yet risen.
Sit if ye will, sit down upon the ground,
Yet not to weep and wail, but calmly look around.
Whate’er befel,
Earth is not hell;
Now, too, as when it first began,
Life is yet life, and man is man.
For all that breathe beneath the heaven’s high cope,
Joy with grief mixes, with despondence hope.
Hope conquers cowardice, joy grief;
Or at least, faith unbelief.
Though dead, not dead;
Not gone, though fled;
Not lost, though vanished.
In the great gospel and true creed,
He is yet risen indeed;
Christ is yet risen.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Sydney Harbour
Where Hornby, like a mighty fallen star,
Burns through the darkness with a splendid ring
Of tenfold light, and where the awful face
Of Sydney’s northern headland stares all night
O’er dark, determined waters from the east,
From year to year a wild, Titanic voice
Of fierce aggressive sea shoots up and makes, —
When storm sails high through drifts of driving sleet,
And in the days when limpid waters glass
December’s sunny hair and forest face, —
A roaring down by immemorial caves,
A thunder in the everlasting hills.
But calm and lucid as an English lake,
Beloved by beams and wooed by wind and wing,
Shut in from tempest-trampled wastes of wave,
And sheltered from white wraths of surge by walls —
Grand ramparts founded by the hand of God,
The lordly Harbour gleams. Yea, like a shield
Of marvellous gold dropped in his fiery flight
By some lost angel in the elder days,
When Satan faced and fought Omnipotence,
It shines amongst fair, flowering hills, and flows
By dells of glimmering greenness manifold.
And all day long, when soft-eyed Spring comes round
With gracious gifts of bird and leaf and grass —
And through the noon, when sumptuous Summer sleeps
By yellowing runnels under beetling cliffs,
This royal water blossoms far and wide
With ships from all the corners of the world.
And while sweet Autumn with her gipsy face
Stands in the gardens, splashed from heel to thigh
With spinning vine-blood — yea, and when the mild,
Wan face of our Australian Winter looks
Across the congregated southern fens,
Then low, melodious, shell-like songs are heard
Beneath proud hulls and pompous clouds of sail,
By yellow beaches under lisping leaves
And hidden nooks to Youth and Beauty dear,
And where the ear may catch the counter-voice
Of Ocean travelling over far, blue tracts.
Moreover, when the moon is gazing down
Upon her lovely reflex in the wave,
(What time she, sitting in the zenith, makes
A silver silence over stirless woods),
Then, where its echoes start at sudden bells,
And where its waters gleam with flying lights,
The haven lies, in all its beauty clad,
More lovely even than the golden lakes
The poet saw, while dreaming splendid dreams
Which showed his soul the far Hesperides.
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Box Of Rain
Look out of any window, any morning, any evening, any day.
Maybe the sun is shining, birds are singing,
No rain is falling from a heavy sky.
What do you want me to do, to do for you to see you through?
For this is all a dream we dreamed one afternoon, long ago.
Walk out of any doorway, feel your way, feel your way like the day before.
Maybe youll find direction,
Around some corner where its been waiting to meet you.
What do you want me to do, to watch for you while you are sleeping?
The please dont be surprised when you find me dreaming too.
Look into any eyes you find by you, you can see clear to another day,
Maybe been seen before, through other eyes on other days while going home.
What do you want me to do, to do for you to see you through?
Its all a dream we dreamed one afternoon, long ago.
Walk into splintered sunlight,
Inch your way through dead dreams to another land.
Maybe youre tired and broken,
Your tongue is twisted with words half spoken and thoughts unclear
What do you want me to do, to do for you to see you through?
A box of rain will ease the pain, and love will see you through.
Just a box of rain, wind and water,
Sun and shower, wind and rain,
In and out the window like a moth before a flame.
And its just a box of rain, I dont know who put it there,
Believe it if you need it, or leave it if you dare.
And its just a box of rain, or a ribbon for your hair;
Such a long long time to be gone, and a short time to be there.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
She Is But A Dream
she walks barefooted
fluttered her soles
on the shellscattered shore
heart from wthin
soul scampering above the clouds
she was lost
in her adulterated dreams
she wander beyond
her wild imaginations
soul within
mind behind
drifting among faded stars
and her palm face down
trying to hold
murky waters from tired eyes
she was never destined
to happiness
she is all alone
hiding on faded jeans
she never existed
from the heart mind and soul
she was just a weird nightmare
of a weird imaginations
of a weird poet trying..
to find a place under
the scorching sun
poem by Villiamor Calventas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Drifting Along
Nowhere to go
But I'll still be cruising
I live this life long
Long long time
You know I'm drifting along (drifting along)
Can't see where I am going
I will get to my destination
I'm feeling the pressure (pressure)
All around me crumble (man now)
But I won't be put down this time
I'm shifting along
Though I sing a sweet song (sweet song)
We'll murder in the streets where I be livin'
I'm closing my eyes (closing my eyes)
Don't want to see killin'
Gentle giants will roam forever
I'm cruising the street
Wondering who I will meet
Oh love has got to reign in our world
La la la la
La la la la la la
I don't know where I am going to (I don't know where I am going to)
La la la la
La la la la la la
I don't know where I am going to
Drifting along
Drifting along
Closing up my ears to the sound
I don't want to hear
song performed by by Jamiroquai
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Last Look
W. W. SWAIN
BEHOLD--not him we knew!
This was the prison which his soul looked through,
Tender, and brave, and true.
His voice no more is heard;
And his dead name--that dear familiar word--
Lies on our lips unstirred.
He spake with poet's tongue;
Living, for him the minstrel's lyre was strung:
He shall not die unsung.
Grief tried his love, and pain;
And the long bondage of his martyr-chain
Vexed his sweet soul,--in vain!
It felt life's surges break,
As, girt with stormy seas, his island lake,
Smiling while tempests wake.
How can we sorrow more?
Grieve not for him whose heart had gone before
To that untrodden shore!
Lo, through its leafy screen,
A gleam of sunlight on a ring of green,
Untrodden, half unseen!
Here let his body rest,
Where the calm shadows that his soul loved best
May slide above his breast.
Smooth his uncurtained bed;
And if some natural tears are softly shed,
It is not for the dead.
Fold the green turf aright
For the long hours before the morning's light,
And say the last Good Night!
And plant a clear white stone
Close by those mounds which hold his loved, his own,--
Lonely, but not alone.
Here let him sleeping lie,
Till Heaven's bright watchers slumber in the sky
And Death himself shall die!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dulcis Memoria
Long, long ago I heard a little song,
(Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?)
So lowly, slowly wound the tune along,
That far into my heart it found the way:
A melody consoling and endearing;
And still, in silent hours, I'm often hearing
The small, sweet song that does not die away.
Long, long ago I saw a little flower,--
(Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?)
So fair of face and fragrant for an hour,
That something dear to me it seemed to say:
A thought of joy that blossomed into being
Without a word; and now I'm often seeing
The friendly flower that does not fade away.
Long, long ago we had a little child,--
(Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?)
Into his mother's eyes and mine he smiled
Unconscious love; warm in our arms he lay.
An angel called! Dear heart, we could not hold him;
Yet secretly your arms and mine infold him--
Our little child who does not go away.
Long, long ago? Ah, memory, make it clear--
(It was not long ago, but yesterday,)
So little and so helpless and so dear
Let not the song be lost, the flower decay!
His voice, his waking eyes, his gentle sleeping:
The smallest things are safest in thy keeping.
Sweet memory, keep our child with us always.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Wild Heart Looking For Home
This song was first released on the dreamland express album. it is the only album it has been released on.
Life in the city gets all closed in
When you stand in a crowd all alone
Wishing that someone would call out your number
Hoping that someone might phone
Nights in the city can drive you crazy
Theres so very much going on
Try to get quiet, youll miss out on something
Like someone whos looking for
Someone whos looking...
There, I almost got caught again
Lost in the night all alone
With nowhere to hide, crying inside
A wild heart looking for home
Sleeping without you is always cold
The nights are so dark and so long
Dreaming of touching your face in the moonlight
Filling the silence with song
Living without you the days are endless
The clock winding steadily down
Imagining footsteps, your hand at the gatepost
The wind shuts the open door
The wind shuts the open...
There, I almost got caught again
Lost in the night all alone
With nowhere to hide, crying inside
A wild heart looking for home
The songbird, she trembles all day long
She sings as if her poor heart must break
Watching the freedom that flies past her window
Dreaming wont fit in a cage
Fly away songbird, the wind she loves you
Your prison is forsaken at last
Follow your dreaming, youre bound up to heaven
Youre reaching for something more
Reaching for something...
There, I almost got caught again
Lost in the night all alone
With nowhere to hide, crying inside
A wild heart looking for home
There, I thought of your face again
A vision to have and to hold
My spirit still sings, Im flying again
A wild heart looking for home
A wild heart looking for home
Words and music by john denver and joe henry
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I'd Do Anything For Love
and i would do anything for love, i'd run right into hell and back
I would do anything for love, i'll never lie to you and that's a fact
But i'll never forget the way you feel right now, oh no, no way
And i would do anything for love, but i won't do that, i won't do that
Anything for love, oh i would do anything for love
I would do anything for love, but i won't do that, oh i won't do that
Some days it don't come easy, and some days it don't come hard
Some days it don't come at all, and these are the days that never end
Some nights you're breathing fire, and some nights you're carved in ice
Some nights you're like nothing i've ever seen before or will again
Maybe i'm crazy, but it's crazy and it's true
I know you can save me, no one else can save me now but you
As long as the planets are turning, as long as the stars are burning
As long as your dreams are coming true, you better believe it
That i would do anything for love, and i'll be there til the final act
I would do anything for love, and i'll take a vow and seal a pact
But i'll never forgive myself if we don't go all the way tonight
And i would do anything for love, oh i would do anything for love
Oh i would do anything for love, but i won't do that, no i won't do that
I would do anything for love, anything you've been dreaming of
But i just won't do that
Some days i pray for silence, and somedays i pray for soul
Some days i just pray to the god of sex and drums and rock 'n roll
Some nights i lose the feeling, and some nights i lose control
Some nights i just lose it all when i watch you dance and the thunder rolls
Maybe i'm lonely and that's all i'm qualified to be
There's just one and only, the one and only promise i can keep
As long as the wheels are turning, as long as the fires are burning
As long as your prayers are coming true, you better believe it
That i would do anything for love, and you know it's true and that's a fact
I would do anything for love, and there'll never be no turning back
But i'll never do it better than i do it with you, so long, so long
And i would do anything for love, oh i would do anything for love
I would do anything for love, but i won't do that, no no no i won't do that
I would do anything for love, anything you've been dreaming of
But i just won't do that
But i'll never stop dreaming of you every night of my life, no way
And i would do anything for love, oh i would do anything for love
I would do anything for love
But i won't do that
No i won't do that
Will you raise me up, will you help me down?
Will you get me right out of this godforsaken town?
Will you make it all a little less cold?
I can do that! i can do that!
Will you hold me sacred? will you hold me tight?
Can you colorize my life, i'm so sick of black and white?
Can you make it all a little less old?
I can do that! oh oh, now i can do that!
Will you make me some magic, with your own two hands?
Can you build an emerald city with these grains of sand?
Can you give me something i can take home?
I can do that! oh oh now, i can do that!
Will you cater to every fantasy i got?
Will ya hose me down with holy water, if i get too hot?
Will you take me places i've never known?
I can do that! oh oh now, i can do that!
After a while you'll forget everything
It was a brief interlude and a midsummer night's fling
And you'll see that it's time to move on
I won't do that! no i won't do that!
I know the territory, i've been around
It'll all turn to dust and we'll all fall down
And sooner or later, you'll be screwing around
I won't do that! no i won't do that!
Anything for love, oh i would do anything for love
I would do anything for love, but i won't do that, no i won't do that
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!