Enceladus. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Second)
Under Mount Etna he lies,
It is slumber, it is not death;
For he struggles at times to arise,
And above him the lurid skies
Are hot with his fiery breath.
The crags are piled on his breast,
The earth is heaped on his head;
But the groans of his wild unrest,
Though smothered and half suppressed,
Are heard, and he is not dead.
And the nations far away
Are watching with eager eyes;
They talk together and say,
'To-morrow, perhaps to-day,
Euceladus will arise!
And the old gods, the austere
Oppressors in their strength,
Stand aghast and white with fear
At the ominous sounds they hear,
And tremble, and mutter, 'At length!'
Ah me! for the land that is sown
With the harvest of despair!
Where the burning cinders, blown
From the lips of the overthrown
Enceladus, fill the air.
Where ashes are heaped in drifts
Over vineyard and field and town,
Whenever he starts and lifts
His head through the blackened rifts
Of the crags that keep him down.
See, see! the red light shines!
'T is the glare of his awful eyes!
And the storm-wind shouts through the pines
Of Alps and of Apennines,
'Enceladus, arise!'
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Related quotes
My Dove, My Beautiful One
My dove, my beautiful one,
Arise, arise!
The night-dew lies
Upon my lips and eyes.
The odorous winds are weaving
A music of sighs:
Arise, arise,
My dove, my beautiful one!
I wait by the cedar tree,
My sister, my love,
White breast of the dove,
My breast shall be your bed.
The pale dew lies
Like a veil on my head.
My fair one, my fair dove,
Arise, arise!
poem by James Joyce
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Dead Man, Dead Man
Uttering idle words from a reprobate mind,
Clinging to strange promises, dying on the vine,
Never bein able to separate the good from the bad,
Ooh, I cant stand it, I cant stand it,
Its makin me feel so sad.
Dead man, dead man,
When will you arise?
Cobwebs in your mind,
Dust upon your eyes.
Satan got you by the heel, theres a birds nest in your hair.
Do you have any faith at all? do you have any love to share?
The way that you hold your head, cursin God with every move,
Ooh, I cant stand it, I cant stand it,
What are you tryin to prove?
Dead man, dead man,
When will you arise?
Cobwebs in your mind,
Dust upon your eyes.
The glamour and the bright lights and the politics of sin,
The ghetto that you build for me is the one you end up in,
The race of the engine that overrules your heart,
Ooh, I cant stand it, I cant stand it,
Pretending that youre so smart.
Dead man, dead man,
When will you arise?
Cobwebs in your mind,
Dust upon your eyes.
What are you tryin to overpower me with, the doctrine or the gun?
My back is already to the wall, where can I run?
The tuxedo that youre wearin, the flower in your lapel,
Ooh, I cant stand it, I cant stand it,
You wanna take me down to hell.
Dead man, dead man,
When will you arise?
Cobwebs in your mind,
Dust upon your eyes.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Great Hosannah
If we stand here together
And we see the world as one
We may think there's no future
But it's the same for everyone
It's like the world has lost its head
And it's like all the prophets said
But will we arise to a new world
If we stand here together
We can laugh at what we've done
All out time has been wasted
And there's nowhere left to run
There may be trouble up ahead
Will we be sleeping in out beds
Or will we arise to a new world
Look for signs and portents
I'm looking for a reason to believe
Will we arise in our time
At the dawn of another meaning
Will we awake at the break of a great hosannah
Well if there's nothing left to do
Just hold your breath and hope it's true
That we'll arise
song performed by by Kula Shaker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hark! Hark! The Lark
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic'd flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
Arise, arise!
poem by William Shakespeare
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Ulla, Or The Adjuration
'Thou'rt gone!–thou'rt slumb'ring low,
With the sounding seas above thee;
It is but a restless wo,
But a haunting dream to love thee!
Thrice the glad swan has sung,
To greet the spring-time hours,
Since thine oar at parting flung
The white spray up in showers.
There's a shadow of the grave on thy hearth and round thy home;
Come to me from the ocean's dead!–thou'rt surely of them–come!'
'Twas Ulla's voice–alone she stood
In the Iceland summer night,
Far gazing o'er a glassy flood,
From a dark rock's beetling height.
'I know thou hast thy bed
Where the sea-weed's coil hath bound thee;
The storm sweeps o'er thy head,
But the depths are hush'd around thee.
What wind shall point the way
To the chambers where thou'rt lying?
Come to me thence, and say
If thou thought'st on me in dying?
I will not shrink to see thee with a bloodless lip and cheek–
Come to me from the ocean's dead!–thou'rt surely of them–speak!'
She listen'd–'twas the wind's low moan,
'Twas the ripple of the wave,
'Twas the wakening osprey's cry alone,
As it started from its cave.
'I know each fearful spell
Of the ancient Runic lay,
Whose mutter'd words compel
The tempest to obey.
But I adjure not thee
By magic sign or song,
My voice shall stir the sea
By love,–the deep, the strong!
By the might of woman's tears, by the passion of her sighs,
Come to me from the ocean's dead!–by the vows we pledg'd–arise!'
Again she gazed with an eager glance,
Wandering and wildly bright;–
She saw but the sparkling waters dance
To the arrowy northern light.
'By the slow and struggling death
Of hope that loath'd to part,
By the fierce and withering breath
Of despair on youth's high heart;
By the weight of gloom which clings
To the mantle of the night,
By the heavy dawn which brings
Nought lovely to the sight,
By all that from my weary soul thou hast wrung of grief and fear,
Come to me from the ocean's dead–awake, arise, appear!'
Was it her yearning spirit's dream,
Or did a pale form rise,
And o'er the hush'd wave glide and gleam,
With bright, still, mournful eyes?
'Have the depths heard?–they have!
My voice prevails–thou'rt there,
Dim from thy watery grave,
Oh! thou that wert so fair!
Yet take me to thy rest!
There dwells no fear with love;
Let me slumber on thy breast,
While the billow rolls above!
Where the long-lost things lie hid, where the bright ones have their home,
We will sleep among the ocean's dead–stay for me, stay!–I come!'
There was a sullen plunge below,
A flashing on the main,
And the wave shut o'er that wild heart's wo,
Shut,–and grew still again.
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Twinkle
(kinky friedman)
Oh, I didnt write this song for fortunes made of money,
I only came along just to sing it to you, honey.
Ive dreamed around the bend, Ive looked behind the sky,
Ive seen the rainbows end in the twinkle of an eye.
And until the day our stars all arise
Twinkle, let me shine in your eyes.
In a window from afar it shines in just like a candle,
The shimmer like a star, its more than I can handle,
To hold you in the night, to show you what I told you,
To go down by candlelight, to light the world before you.
And until the day our stars all arise,
Twinkle, let me shine in your eyes.
And until the day our stars all arise,
Twinkle, let me shine in your eyes,
Twinkle, let me shine in your eyes,
Let me shine in your eyes.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song!
A thousand million souls arise
Out of the cradle of to-day,
And, like a living storm, beneath the skies
Go thundering on their fatal way!
But ere to-morrow’s sun
His ancient round hath run,
That storm is past—and Where are they?
Is asked of Faith by pale Dismay:
“Where—where are they?”
And Faith—even Faith herself—hath not a word to say.
With her serene assurance thrown
Like moonlight into the Unknown
And all her clasping tendrils curled
About the steadfast pillars of the never-failing world,
To that wild question of Dismay
Yet hath she not a word to say,
And only lifts her patient eyes
Up from the earth’s change-trampled sod,
To fix them, out in the eternal skies,
On all she knoweth—God.
poem by Charles Harpur
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The Furrow And The Hearth
I
STRIDE the hill, Sower,
Up to the sky ridge,
Flinging the seed,
Scattering, exultant!
Mouthing great rhythms
To the long sea-beats
On the wide shore, behind
The ridge of the hillside.
Below in the darkness
The slumber of mothers,
The cradles at rest,
The fire-seed sleeping
Deep in white ashes!
Give to darkness and sleep,
O Sower, O Seer!
Give me to the earth
With the seed I would enter!
Oh, the growth through the silence
From strength to new strength;
Then the strong bursting forth
Against primal forces,
To laugh in the sunshine,
To gladden the world!
II
Who will bring the red fire
Unto a new hearth?
Who will lay the wide stone
On the waste of the earth?
Who is fain to begin
To build day by day
To raise up his house
Of the moist yellow clay?
There's clay for the making
Moist in the pit,
There are horses to trample
The rushes through it.
Above where the wild duck
Arise up and fly,
There one can build
To the wind and the sky.
There are boughs in the forest
To pluck young and green,
O'er them thatch of the crop
Shall be heavy and clean.
I speak unto him
Who in dead of the night
Sees the red streaks
In the ash deep and white;
While around him he hears
Men stir in their rest,
And the stir of the babe
That is close to the breast!
He shall arise,
He shall go forth alone,
Lay stone on the earth,
And bring fire to stone.
poem by Padraic Colum
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I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine
I dreamed i saw st. augustine,
Alive as you or me,
Tearing through these quarters
In the utmost misery,
With a blanket underneath his arm
And a coat of solid gold,
Searching for the very souls
Whom already have been sold.
"arise, arise," he cried so loud,
In a voice without restraint,
"come out, ye gifted kings and queens
And hear my sad complaint.
No martyr is among ye now
Whom you can call your own,
So go on your way accordingly
But know you're not alone."
I dreamed i saw st. augustine,
Alive with fiery breath,
And i dreamed i was amongst the ones
That put him out to death.
Oh, i awoke in anger,
So alone and terrified,
I put my fingers against the glass
And bowed my head and cried.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Splitting
Morning.
Out from the hut at break of day,
And up the hills in the dawning grey;
With the young wind flowing
From the blue east, growing
Red with the white sun's ray!
Lone and clear as a deep-bright dream
Under mid-night's and mid-slumber's stream,
Up rises the mount against the sunrise shower,
Vast as a kingdom, fair as a flower:
O'er it doth the foam of foliage ream
In vivid softness serene,
Pearly-purple and marble green;
Clear in their mingling tinges,
Up away to the crest that fringes
Skies studded with cloud-crags sheen.
Day.
Like birds frayed from their lurking-shaw,
Like ripples fleet 'neath a furious flaw,
The echoes re-echo, flying
Down from the mauls hot-plying;
Clatter the axes, grides the saw.
Ruddy and white the chips out-spring,
Like money sown by a pageant king;
The free wood yields to the driven wedges,
With its white sap-edges,
And heart in the sunshine glistening.
Broadly the ice-clear azure floods down,
Where the great tree-tops are overthrown;
As on through the endless day we labour;
The sun for our nearest neighbour,
Up o'er the mountains lone.
And so intensely it doth illume,
That it shuts by times to gloom;
In the open spaces thrilling;
From the dead leaves distilling
A hot and harsh perfume.
Evening.
Give over! All the valleys in sight
Fill, fill with the rising tide of night;
While the sunset with gold-dust bridges
The black-ravined ridges,
Whose mighty muscles curve in its light.
In our weary climb, while night dyes deep,
Down the broken and stony steep,
How our jaded bodies are shaken
By each step in half-blindness taken --
One's thoughts lie heaped like brutes asleep.
Open the door of the dismal hut,
Silence and darkness lone were shut
In it, as a tidal pool, until returning
Night drowns the land, -- no ember's burning, --
One is too weary the food to cut.
Body and soul with every blow,
Wasted for ever, and who will know,
Where, past this mountained night of toiling,
Red life in its thousand veins is boiling,
Of chips scattered on the mountain's brow?
poem by Sydney Wheeler Jephcott
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Psalm 5
I come to thee oh Lord, where you dwell
And cry out, that you may hear
Give me strength oh Lord, that I might tell
To be brave and not to fear
I will arise in the morning and I will look up
And I will hear what my Master will say
Oh Lord I have come, so please fill my cup
That I may follow you all of the day
Let all them rejoice who trust in you
You will deliver, from all of their foe
As they walk in the day and follow whats true
They shall arise and they shall go
poem by Frank McEleny
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Little Martha
(Written by Dave Colwell, Carnes, Finley, Lister)
Hello little Martha
There you stand with the stems of the roses still in your hand
The seasons of time
The weather, your face, you little Martha, there's no disgrace
So now little Martha, here you live
You're just 12 years old, have no time to play
The sun don't arise when you're not in my eyes
Not a day goes by without you
Even though you're looking down on me
Tell me angel, will you remember me?
Oh little Martha, as I stand at your feet
I see now that the circle is ought to complete
Now while I stand here feeling so sad
Because we both know the good times we had
So now little Martha, here you live
Your life is all gone, no time to play, oh
The sun don't arise when you're not in my eyes
Not a day goes by without you
Even though you're looking down on me
Tell me angel
The sun don't arise when you're not in my eyes
Not a day goes by without you
Even though you're looking down on me
Tell me angel, will you remember me?
Oh little Martha
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memories
I see wild waves that break, and breaking-run;
And the wild sea-birds wheeling round the ships;
But at the dawn, the coming of the sun,
I see your red, red lips.
I see the cold moon now with fresh delight;
And the stars arise anew, and yet arise;
But in the night, the blackness of the night
I see your sad, sad eyes.
I hear the engines throbbing as we ride;
And the men’s songs. I hear great throats
Rejoice.
But in the silence, when all the songs have died,
I hear your soft, soft voice.
poem by Leon Gellert
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Aubade
HARK! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With everything that pretty bin,
My lady sweet, arise!
Arise, arise!
poem by William Shakespeare
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Kiss The Day
These are the days we throw away
The Words we never say
"I'm so fragile, and so wrong"
And we're still knocking on the door
Of a world that's gone before
Until the real thing comes along
Kiss the day, on it's way
And the sun will never shine
In your eyes like the skies
And the darkness will arise
Kiss the day, and await
To hold you in it's arms
And the light will never fade
Kiss the day
And now I've seen enough to know
Though the truth can leave you cold
It can always lead you home
Back to the place where we belong
To the time when we were strong
When we could blow away the storm
Kiss the day, on it's way
And the sun will never shine
In your eyes like the skies
And the darkness will arise
Kiss the day, and await
To hold you in it's arms
And the light will never fade
Kiss the day, kiss the day
These are the days we throw away
The Words we never say
Till the real thing comes along
Kiss the day, on it's way
And the sun will never shine
In your eyes like the skies
And the darkness will arise
Kiss the day, and await
To hold you in it's arms
And the light will never fade
Kiss the day
song performed by by Def Leppard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reise Reise (Arise Arise) (Lyrics.)
Even on the waves there is fighting
Where fish and flesh are woven into sea
One stabs the lance while in the army
Another throws it into the ocean
Ahoy
Arise, arise seaman arise
Each does it in his own way
One thrusts the spear into a man
Another then into the fish
Arise, arise seaman arise
And the waves cry softly
In their blood a spear is lodged
They bleed softly into the ocean
The lance must be drowned in flesh
Fish and man sink to the depths
Where the black soul dwells
there is no light on the horizon
Ahoy
Arise, arise seaman arise
Each does it in his own way
One thrusts the spear into a man
Another then into the fish
Arise, arise seaman arise
And the waves cry softly
In their blood a spear is lodged
They bleed softly into the ocean
Arise, arise seaman arise
And the waves cry softly
In their heart a spear is lodged
They bleed themselves dry on the shore
poem by Satan's Sibling
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The Rising Of The Storm
THE lake's dark breast
Is all unrest,
It heaves with a sob and a sigh.
Like a tremulous bird,
From its slumber stirred,
The moon is a-tilt in the sky.
From the silent deep
The waters sweep,
But faint on the cold white stones,
And the wavelets fly
With a plaintive cry
O'er the old earth's bare, bleak bones.
And the spray upsprings
On its ghost-white wings,
And tosses a kiss at the stars;
While a water-sprite,
In sea-pearls dight,
Hums a sea-hymn's solemn bars.
Far out in the night,
On the wavering sight
I see a dark hull loom;
And its light on high,
Like a Cyclops' eye,
Shines out through the mist and gloom.
Now the winds well up
From the earth's deep cup,
And fall on the sea and shore,
And against the pier
The waters rear
And break with a sullen roar.
Up comes the gale,
And the mist-wrought veil
Gives way to the lightning's glare,
And the cloud-drifts fall,
A sombre pall,
O'er water, earth, and air.
The storm-king flies,
His whip he plies,
And bellows down the wind.
The lightning rash
With blinding flash
Comes pricking on behind.
Rise, waters, rise,
And taunt the skies
With your swift-flitting form.
Sweep, wild winds, sweep,
And tear the deep
To atoms in the storm.
And the waters leapt,
And the wild winds swept,
And blew out the moon in the sky,
And I laughed with glee,
It was joy to me
As the storm went raging by!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Old Men
Old and alone, sit we,
Caged, riddle-rid men;
Lost to earth's 'Listen!' and 'See!'
Thought's 'Wherefore?' and 'When?'
Only far memories stray
Of a past once lovely, but now
Wasted and faded away,
Like green leaves from the bough.
Vast broods the silence of night,
The ruinous moon
Lifts on our faces her light,
Whence all dreaming is gone.
We speak not; trembles each head;
In their sockets our eyes are still;
Desire as cold as the dead;
Without wonder or will.
And One, with a lanthorn, draws near,
At clash with the moon in our eyes:
'Where art thou?' he asks: 'I am here,'
One by one we arise.
And none lifts a hand to withhold
A friend from the touch of that foe:
Heart cries unto heart, 'Thou art old!'
Yet reluctant, we go.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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A Song of the Republic
Sons of the South, awake! arise!
Sons of the South, and do.
Banish from under your bonny skies
Those old-world errors and wrongs and lies.
Making a hell in a Paradise
That belongs to your sons and you.
Sons of the South, make choice between
(Sons of the South, choose true),
The Land of Morn and the Land of E'en,
The Old Dead Tree and the Young Tree Green,
The Land that belongs to the lord and the Queen,
And the Land that belongs to you.
Sons of the South, your time will come –
Sons of the South, 'tis near –
The "Signs of the Times", in their language dumb,
Fortell it, and ominous whispers hum
Like sullen sounds of a distant drum,
In the ominous atmosphere.
Sons of the South, aroused at last!
Sons of the South are few!
But your ranks grow longer and deeper fast,
And ye shall swell to an army vast,
And free from the wrongs of the North and Past
The land that belongs to you.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Green Clouds # 3
Hello green things piled like puffs of prancing joy
heaped upon my palate, my brainpan going wild
The butterflies flick their wings and dance on...
then sinking to the earth like poisoned hope
The milk and honey are like starlight kisses
flaking from my eyes until I spin and skew
watching the flesh spread across the sky
blazing into a galaxy of spiraled numbers
Fuzzy blares like raindrops beating me to death
at once I am peaceful and at war with nothing
There is a grateful aching in my breast
wanting freedom like a spark or spatter of rain
Simpler times lay ahead and across my path
remnants of a crumbled empire of silver lining
where the clouds gathered and their beauty tore free
until the sky shouts thunder as the ground hisses back.
Let the toppling failings of my psyche transcend
into words, pictures of blessed clarity and poise
groaning as it coalesces like flame in a wind
the complex ringing scatters...it goes quiet.
Here, like all finality, we speak softly and crowd around
there is a light speaking to us of our dreams
I am brought up into the waking of my dead spirit
and hope fervently that the clouds do not scatter too quickly.
poem by Poet Dragon
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