Delia. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fifth)
Sweet as the tender fragrance that survives,
When martyred flowers breathe out their little lives,
Sweet as a song that once consoled our pain,
But never will be sung to us again,
Is thy remembrance. Now the hour of rest
Hath come to thee. Sleep, darling; it is best.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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A Rocking Hymn
Sweet baby, sleep! what ails my dear,
What ails my darling thus to cry?
Be still, my child, and lend thine ear
To hear me sing thy lullaby.
My pretty lamb, forbear to weep;
Be still, my dear; sweet baby, sleep.
Thou blessed soul, what canst thou fear?
What thing to thee can mischief do?
Thy God is now thy father dear,
His holy Spouse, thy mother too.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.
Though thy conception was in sin,
A sacred bathing thou hast had;
And, though thy birth unclean hath been,
A blameless babe thou now art made.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my dear; sweet baby, sleep,
While thus thy lullaby I sing,
For thee great blessings ripening be;
Thine eldest brother is a King,
And hath a kingdom bought for thee.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.
Sweet baby, sleep and nothing fear,
For whosoever thee offends,
By thy protector threat'ned are,
And God and angels are thy friends.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.
When God with us was dwelling here,
In little babes he took delight;
Such innocents as thou, my dear,
Are ever precious in His sight.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.
A little infant once was He,
And, strength in weakness, then was laid
Upon His virgin-mother's knee,
That power to thee might be conveyed.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.
In this, thy frailty and thy need,
He friends and helpers doth prepare,
Which thee shall cherish, clothe and feed;
For of thy weal they tender are.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.
The King of kings, when he was born,
Had not so much for outward ease;
By Him such dressings were not worn,
Nor such like swaddling-clothes as these.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.
Within a manger lodged thy Lord
Where oxen lay and asses fed;
Warm rooms we do to thee afford,
An easy cradle or a bed.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.
The wants that He did then sustain
Have purchased wealth, my babe, for thee;
And by His torments and His pain
Thy rest and ease securèd be.
My baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.
Thou hast (yet more) to perfect this,
A promise and an earnest got
Of gaining everlasting bliss,
Though thou, my babe, perceiv'st it not;
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.
poem by George Wither
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Aurora
Like a fairy with flowers in her hair,
I possess sweet remembrance of her.
In the coolness of the September air,
Strains of melancholic chords I do hear,
And though I might not know what,
Yet something may have changed,
For I possess sweet remembrance of her,
And the emblem of her beauty caresses my heart,
Like the fluttering of birds' wings in the cool air.
Yes, like Aurora with flowers in her hair,
I possess sweet remembrance of her,
And her fragrance follows my path.
poem by Enoch John
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Serenade
Ah, sweet, thou little knowest how
I wake and passionate watches keep;
And yet while I address thee now,
Methinks thou smilest in thy sleep.
'Tis sweet enough to make me weep,
That tender thought of love and thee,
That while the world is hush'd so deep,
Thy soul's perhaps awake to me!
Sleep on, sleep on, sweet bride of sleep!
With golden visions of thy dower,
While I this midnight vigil keep,
And bless thee in thy silent bower;
To me 'tis sweeter than the power
Of sleep, and fairy dreams unfurl'd,
That I alone, at this still hour,
In patient love outwatch the world.
poem by Thomas Hood
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The Child Asleep. (From The French)
Sweet babe! true portrait of thy father's face,
Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed!
Sleep, little one; and closely, gently place
Thy drowsy eyelid on thy mother's breast.
Upon that tender eye, my little friend,
Soft sleep shall come, that cometh not to me!
I watch to see thee, nourish thee, defend;
'Tis sweet to watch for thee, alone for thee!
His arms fall down; sleep sits upon his brow;
His eye is closed; he sleeps, nor dreams of harm.
Wore not his cheek the apple's ruddy glow,
Would you not say he slept on Death's cold arm?
Awake, my boy! I tremble with affright!
Awake, and chase this fatal thought! Unclose
Thine eye but for one moment on the light!
Even at the price of thine, give me repose!
Sweet error! he but slept! -- I breathe again;
Come, gentle dreams, the hour of sleep beguile!
Oh, when shall he, for whom I sigh in vain,
Beside me watch to see thy waking smile?
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Pleasant As May
Writer Dolly Parton
Copyright 1973
The mid summer sun shines but dim the fields try in vain to look gay
But when I was happy with him December was pleasant as May
There once was a time he and I picked flowers to braid in my hair
And the songbirds would sing sweet song of love that was tender and fair
No difference the seasons may quit our love was as warm as the sun
And it mattered not where did the snow
Or green grass kissed the fields where we'd run
Now the mid summer sun shines...
Sweet flowers sweet birds and sweet song have now lost their sweetness to me
For ever my darling is gone and for ever my heartbroken I'll be
Now the mid summer sun shines...
The mid summer sun shines but dim mmm
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet And Low
Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea!
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon, and blow,
Blow him again to me;
While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
Father will come to thee soon;
Father will come to his babe in the best,
Silver sails all out of the west,
Under the silver moon:
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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The Sleep Of Spring
O for that sweet, untroubled rest
That poets oft have sung!--
The babe upon its mother's breast,
The bird upon its young,
The heart asleep without a pain--
When shall I know that sleep again?
When shall I be as I have been
Upon my mother's breast
Sweet Nature's garb of verdant green
To woo to perfect rest--
Love in the meadow, field, and glen,
And in my native wilds again?
The sheep within the fallow field,
The herd upon the green,
The larks that in the thistle shield,
And pipe from morn to e'en--
O for the pasture, fields, and fen!
When shall I see such rest again?
I love the weeds along the fen,
More sweet than garden flowers,
For freedom haunts the humble glen
That blest my happiest hours.
Here prison injures health and me:
I love sweet freedom and the free.
The crows upon the swelling hills,
The cows upon the lea,
Sheep feeding by the pasture rills,
Are ever dear to me,
Because sweet freedom is their mate,
While I am lone and desolate.
I loved the winds when I was young,
When life was dear to me;
I loved the song which Nature sung,
Endearing liberty;
I loved the wood, the vale, the stream,
For there my boyhood used to dream.
There even toil itself was play;
Twas pleasure een to weep;
Twas joy to think of dreams by day,
The beautiful of sleep.
When shall I see the wood and plain,
And dream those happy dreams again?
poem by John Clare
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Years May Come
(howard houston)
Producer for bonnie: howard houston
Heartaches and so much pain
Cry out to you in vain
Ill keep my promises, oh darling
Dont let this sweet love die
So many reasons why
Ill keep my promises oh darling, oh yeah
Ill wait for you my sweet love
*years may come
And years may go
Still theres one thing that I know
That my heart is only beating
Just for you, darling
Only a fool would let you go
I will always love you so
For my heart is only waiting just for you
Time passes by so slow
With every hour I know
Ill keep my promises, sweet darling
The stories that you hear
Jealous words have no fear
Ill keep my promises, sweet darling, oh, oh
I adore you my, sweet love
*repeat
*repeat
song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The singing in god's acre
Out yonder in the moonlight, wherein God's Acre lies,
Go angels walking to and fro, singing their lullabies.
Their radiant wings are folded, and their eyes are bended low,
As they sing among the beds whereon the flowers delight to grow,--
"Sleep, oh, sleep!
The Shepherd guardeth His sheep.
Fast speedeth the night away,
Soon cometh the glorious day;
Sleep, weary ones, while ye may,
Sleep, oh, sleep!"
The flowers within God's Acre see that fair and wondrous sight,
And hear the angels singing to the sleepers through the night;
And, lo! throughout the hours of day those gentle flowers prolong
The music of the angels in that tender slumber-song,--
"Sleep, oh, sleep!
The Shepherd loveth His sheep.
He that guardeth His flock the best
Hath folded them to His loving breast;
So sleep ye now, and take your rest,--
Sleep, oh, sleep!"
From angel and from flower the years have learned that soothing song,
And with its heavenly music speed the days and nights along;
So through all time, whose flight the Shepherd's vigils glorify,
God's Acre slumbereth in the grace of that sweet lullaby,--
"Sleep, oh, sleep!
The Shepherd loveth His sheep.
Fast speedeth the night away,
Soon cometh the glorious day;
Sleep, weary ones, while ye may,--
Sleep, oh, sleep!"
poem by Eugene Field
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O great golden head lie in my lap
O great golden head lie in my lap,
Sweet, sweet, lie there.
Sleep and I'll watch thee lest evil behap.
Sweet, sweet and fair.
O great golden head lie on my breast,
Sleep, sleep thou there,
Who in thy beauty hast stolen my rest,
Sweet, sweet and fair.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Can you hear my soul sing?
The sounds of my soul are a symphony,
always a lilting melody.
There's never a minor chord to interfere
with all the sweet tones that I hear.
The quiet reflections are the rests
that pause in its ongoing quest
to proceed with violin strings so sweet
to heal the pierces that I meet.
The harps and orchestral sounds
allow my soul its leaps and bounds.
And the basso profundo is your touch
which reaches my soul in a tender clutch.
The treble sounds reach out to you
as only I can give to you.
For my soul has always sung a song
and consoled my body as I moved along.
I can hear it wherever I go.
Can you hear my soul sing?
I will wish it so.
Listen my love so you can hear
the song that I am for you, my dear
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Sisters - A Picture By Barry
The shade for me, but over thee
The lingering sunshine still;
As, smiling, to the silent stream
Comes down the singing rill.
So come to me, my little one,--
My years with thee I share,
And mingle with a sister's love
A mother's tender care.
But keep the smile upon thy lip,
The trust upon thy brow;
Since for the dear one God hath called
We have an angel now.
Our mother from the fields of heaven
Shall still her ear incline;
Nor need we fear her human love
Is less for love divine.
The songs are sweet they sing beneath
The trees of life so fair,
But sweetest of the songs of heaven
Shall be her children's prayer.
Then, darling, rest upon my breast,
And teach my heart to lean
With thy sweet trust upon the arm
Which folds us both unseen!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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There Was A Time, I Need Not Name
There was a time, I need not name,
Since it will ne'er forgotten be,
When all our feelings were the same
As still my soul hath been to thee.
And from that hour when first thy tongue
Confess'd a love which equall'd mine,
Though many a grief my heart hath wrung,
Unknown, and thus unfelt, by thine,
None, none hath sunk so deep as this---
To think how all that love hath flown;
Transient as every faithless kiss,
But transient in thy breast alone.
And yet my heart some solace knew,
When late I heard thy lips declare,
In accents once imagined true,
Remembrance of the days that were.
Yes! my adored, yet most unkind!
Though thou wilt never love again,
To me 'tis doubly sweet to find
Remembrance of that love remain.
Yes! 'tis a glorious thought to me,
Nor longer shall my soul repine,
Whate'er thou art or e'er shalt be,
Thou hast been dearly, solely mine.
The Song One Sings In Old Age
The song one sings in old age
Is a quieter song-
It has more sadness in it,
And more remembrance.
It knows the greatest lyric of love
Will never be in it again.
The Ecstasy of he greatest passion is beyond it-
The song one sings in old age
Has a kind of Tenderness and Kindness in it
It loves nothing more than small and gentle dreams;
And grandchildren.
It goes along consoled
At hearing itself
And yet somehow different and lost-
For the song of old age
Has heard many songs
Which will be sung no more-
And in listening feels
It soon will be singing
Its last and saddest song.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Slumber Song
Thou little child, with tender, clinging arms,
Drop thy sweet head, my darling, down and rest
Upon my shoulder, rest with all thy charms;
Be soothed and comforted, be loved and blessed.
Against thy silken, honey-colored hair
I lean a loving cheek, a mute caress;
Close, close I gather thee and kiss thy fair
White eyelids, sleep so softly doth oppress.
Dear little face, that lies in calm content
Within the gracious hollow that God made
In every human shoulder, where He meant
Some tired head for comfort should be laid!
Most like a heavy-folded rose thou art,
In summer air reposing, warm and still.
Dream thy sweet dreams upon my quiet heart;
I watch thy slumber; naught shall do thee ill.
poem by Celia Thaxter
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He Is Safe
'And it shall come to pass at eventide
There shall be light.' Lord, it hath come to pass.
As one day to the world so now to me
Thine advent. My dark eve is white as noon;
My year so sour and green is gold and red;
Mine eyes have seen Thy Goodness. All is done.
All things bespeak an end. I am come near
The crown o' this steep earth. My feet still stand
Cold in the western shadow, but my brow
Lives in the living light. The toil is o'er,
Surely 'He giveth His beloved Rest.'
I feel two worlds: one ends and one begins.
Methinks I dwell in both; being much here,
But more hereafter: even as when the nurse
Doth give the babe into the mother's arms,
And she who hath not quite resigned, and she
Who hath not all received, support in twain
The single burden; ne'ertheless the babe
Already tastes its mother. Lord, I come.
Thy signs are in me. 'He shall wipe away
All tears:' Thou see'st my tears are wiped away.
'There shall be no more pain:' Lord, it is done,
Here there is no more pain. 'The sun no more
Shall be their light by day:' even so, Lord,
I need no light of sun or moon! My heart
Is as a lamp of jasper, crystal-clear,
Dark when Thy light is out, but lit with Thee
The sun may be a suckling at this breast,
And milk a nobler glory. Lord, I know
Mine hour. This painful world, that was of thorns,
Is roses. Like a fragrance thro' my soul
I breathe a balm of slumber. Let me sleep.
Bring me my easy pillows, Margery.
I am asleep; this oak is soft: all things
Are rest: I sink as into bliss. O Lord,
Now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Melanie
Melanie is sweet
A vision on her feet
So young so fair
A bridge of iron
Standing tall between two parted spheres
Shes a novelty of reality
Though she tried so hard
My sweet darling melanie
Shes glad for what shes had
Her mom and several dads so she complained
This modern love affair
With life can really get you down
Shes a novelty of reality
But she tried so hard my sweet darling melanie
Ooh but life goes on
Ooh the same old song
Ooh but loves in search of mystery
So you worked so hard my sweet darling melanie
Over the horizon
Birds of paradise sit in her eyes
You can feel forever on her sweet and silken sighs
Shes novelty of reality
So she tried so hard my sweet darling melanie
Na, na, na
Shes novelty of reality
So she tried so hard my sweet darling melanie
So she tried so hard my sweet darling melanie
Na, na, na...
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maiden Lips.
O Sweet, thy lips, how sweet their kisses are!
Rarer than rosy dewdrops amorous
That in the lily's tender bosom fall,
So magical with beauty they so breathe of thee.
poem by Robert Crawford
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Flowers never emit so sweet and strong a fragrance as before a storm. When a storm approaches thee, be as fragrant as a sweet-smelling flower.
quote by Jean Paul Richter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet VI. To Hope
OH, Hope! thou soother sweet of human woes.
How shall I lure thee to my haunts forlorn?
For me wilt thou renew the wither'd rose,
And clear my painful path of pointed thorn?
Ah, come sweet nymph! in smiles and softness drest,
Like the young hours that lead the tender year,
Enchantress, come! and charm my cares to rest:--
Alas! the flatterer flies, and will not hear!
A prey to fear, anxiety, and pain,
Must I a sad existence still deplore
Lo!--the flowers fade, but all the thorns remain,
'For me the vernal garland blooms no more.'
Come then, 'pale Misery's love!' be thou my cure,
And I will bless thee, who though slow art sure.
poem by Charlotte Smith
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