Mezzo Cammin
Half of my life is gone, and I have let
The years slip from me and have not fulfilled
The aspiration of my youth, to build
Some tower of song with lofty parapet.
Not indolence, nor pleasure, nor the fret
Of restless passions chat would not be stilled,
But sorrow, and a care that almost killed,
Kept me from what I may accomplish yet;
Though, half way up the hill, I see the Past
Lying beneath me with its sounds and sights,--
A city in the twilight dim and vast,
With smoking roofs, soft bells, and gleaming lights.--
And hear above me on the autumnal blast
The cataract of Death far thundering from the heights.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Volunteer
Here lies a clerk who half his life had spent
Toiling at ledgers in a city grey,
Thinking that so his days would drift away
With no lance broken in life’s tournament:
Yet ever ’twixt the books and his bright eyes
The gleaming eagles of the legions came,
And horsemen, charging under phantom skies,
Went thundering past beneath the oriflamme.
And now those waiting dreams are satisfied;
From twilight to the halls of dawn he went;
His lance is broken; but he lies content
With that high hour, in which he lived and died.
And falling thus he wants no recompense,
Who found his battle in the last resort;
Nor needs he any hearse to bear him hence,
Who goes to join the men of Agincourt.
poem by Herbert Asquith
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The Sunken City
I walked beside a quiet sea,
At starlight, while the west was gray
And clear, though faint and far away;
Through the stilled water, forth me,
Voices of bells came dreamily;
No breeze more manifest than they.
Some say a thousand years ago
There throve a city on an isle
Beyond the headland, mile on mile,
Which, in a night of fear and woe,
Sank in the glassy depth below—
Sank tower and dwelling, beam and tile.
And now, when twinkling skies are clear,
Withing the sunken city there,
The sad ghosts ring their past despair
Out on the mermen’s atmosphere—
Ring loudly all, that life may hear
Dead sadness stir the ample air.
To me this city is not strange;
I feel familiar with each gate,
Each tower and street unfortunate,
And, wheresoe’er I dwell or range,
Its mem’ry-picture does not change,
Limned by its stern destroyer, Fate.
Its labarums, on roof and mast,
Swam in the light with silken arms,
No wrathful wars, nor dread alarms,
The streeted splendor overcast;
But, on a throne of gems amassed,
Sat Pleasure with Circean charma.
Yet came the hour of loss and fear.
The city sank, tower, wall, and mart,
Its brittle site was rent apart,
And all went down that once was dear;
But oft, in loneliness, I hear
Its sunken bells ring in my heart.
I beat no note of vain regret.
My hope-wrought city of To-be.
Youth seen, upon the future’s sea,
Has vanished, and its sun is set;
But broader and diviner yet,
The city of Reality.
For, though its ways be paved with stone,
And hard and rough to toiling feet,
And though, in the accustomed street,
No blazoned garniture is known,
By Fate, God’s hand, His will is shown,
And love makes humble service sweet.
poem by Henry Abbey
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In A Swedish Graveyard
After wearisome toil and much sorrow,
How quietly sleep they at last,
Neither dreading and fearing the morrow,
Nor vainly bemoaning the past!
Shall we give them our envy or pity?
Shall we shun or yearn after such rest,
So calm near the turbulent city,
With their heart stilled at length in their breast?
They all sleep with their heads lying westward,
Where all suns and all days have gone down.
Do they long for the dawn, looking eastward?
Do they dream of the strife and the crown?
Each one held a lit taper when dying:
Where hath vanished the fugitive flame?
With his love, and his joy, and his sighing,
Alas! and his youth and his name.
The living stands o'er him and dreameth,
And wonders what dreams came to him.
While the tender, brief twilight still gleameth,
With a light strangely mournful and dim.
And he wonders what lights and what shadows
Passed over these dead long ago,
When their feet now at rest trod these meadows,
And their hearts throbbed to pleasure or woe
What dreams came to them in their living?
The self-same that come now to thee.
If thou findest those dreams are deceiving,
Then these lives thou wilt know and wilt see:
The same visions of love and of glory,
The same vain regret for the past;
All the same poor and pitiful story,
Till the taper's extinguished at last.
All the treasures on earth that they cherished,
Now they care not to clasp nor to save;
And the poor little lights, how they perished,
Slowly dying alone in the grave!
With a flickering faint on the features
Of age, or of youth in its bloom:
Lighting up for grim Death his weak creatures,
In the darkness and night of the tomb,—
With a radiance ghostly and mournful,
On the good, on the just and unjust;
For a space, till the monarch, so scornful,
Turned the light and the lighted to dust.
No taper of earth he desired
In his halls where they quietly rest;
For all those who have toiled and are tired,
Utter darkness and sleep may be best.
poem by Emma Lazarus
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The Old Man's Funeral
Ye sigh not when the sun, his course fulfilled,
His glorious course, rejoicing earth and sky,
In the soft evening, when the winds are stilled,
Sinks where his islands of departure spread
O'er the warm-colored heaven and ruddy mountain head.
Why weep ye then for him, who, having won
The bound of man's appointed years, at last.
Life's blessings all enjoyed, life's labors done,
Serenely to his final rest has passed;
While the soft memory of his virtues yet
Lingers like twilight hues, when the bright sun is set?
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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Newcastle
The winding smooth river,
The restless city life,
the fantastic football team,
and best of all the grateful souls of Newcastle.
The enormous stadium,
The small players,
The vast crowd,
and the gigantic atmosphere,
all here at the home of
NEWCASTLE!
Before the match burgundy wine,
first half scorching goal,
half time smooth as a babies bottom beer,
second half dramatic penalty
after match scrumptious fruity cider,
all in days fun in Newcastle.
poem by Ogi Renforth
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Half The World
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Half the world hates
What half the world does every day
Half the world waits
While half gets on with it anyway
Half the world lives
Half the world makes
Half the world gives
While the other half takes
Half the world is
Half the world was
Half the world thinks
While the other half does
Half the world talks
With half a mind on what they say
Half the world walks
With half a mind to run away
Half the world lies
Half the world learns
Half the world flies
As half the world turns
Half the world cries
Half the world laughs
Half the world tries
To be the other half
Half of us divided like a torn-up photograph half of us are
Trying to reach the other half
Half the world cares
While half the world is wasting the day
Half the world shares
While half the world is stealing away
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silver Bells
(Jay Livingston/Ray Evans)
Silver bells, silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring-a-ling, hear them ring
Soon it will be Christmas day
City sidewalks, busy sidewalks
Dressed in holiday style
In the air
There's a feeling of Christmas
Children laughing
People passing
Meeting smile after smile
And on ev'ry street corner you'll hear
Silver bells, silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring-a-ling, hear them ring
Soon it will be Christmas day
Strings of street lights
Even stop lights
Blink a bright red and green
As the shoppers rush home with their treasures
Hear the snow crunch
See the kids bunch
This is Santa's big scene
And above all this bustle
You'll hear
Silver bells, silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring-a-ling, hear them ring
Soon it will be Christmas day
Silver bells, silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring-a-ling, hear them ring
Soon it will be Christmas day...
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode On The Death Of A Lady, Who Lived One Hundred Years, And Died On Her Birthday, 1728
Ancient dame, how wide and vast
To a race like ours appears,
Rounded to an orb at last,
All thy multitude of years!
We, the herd of human kind,
Frailer and of feebler powers;
We, to narrow bounds confined,
Soon exhaust the sum of ours.
Death’s delicious banquet—we
Perish even from the womb,
Swifter than a shadow flee,
Nourish’d but to feed the tomb.
Seeds of merciless disease
Lurk in all that we enjoy;
Some that waste us by degrees,
Some that suddenly destroy.
And, if life o’erleap the bourn
Common to the sons of men,
What remains, but that we mourn,
Dream, and dote, and drivel then?
Fast as moons can wax and wane
Sorrow comes; and, while we groan,
Pant with anguish, and complain,
Half our years are fled and gone.
If a few (to few ‘tis given),
Lingering on this earthly stage,
Creep and halt with steps uneven
To the period of an age,
Wherefore live they, but to see
Cunning, arrogance, and force,
Sights lamented much by thee,
Holding their accustom’d course?
Oft was seen, in ages past,
All that we with wonder view;
Often shall be to the last;
Earth produces nothing new.
Thee we gratulate, content
Should propitious Heaven design
Life for us as calmly spent,
Though but half the length of thine.
poem by by unknown author, translated by William Cowper
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Silver Bells
(Writers: Jay Livingston, Ray Evans)
City sidewalks, busy sidewalks,
Dressed in holiday style,
In the air there's a feeling of Christmas.
Children laughing, people passing,
Meeting smile after smile,
And on every street corner you hear.
Silver bells, silver bells,
It's Christmastime in the city.
Hear the bells go ding-a-ling, hear them ring,
Soon it will be Christmas day.
Strings of street lights, even stop lights
Blink a bright red and green
As the shoppers rush home with their treasures.
Hear the snow crunch, see the kids bunch,
This is Santa's big scene,
And above all this bustle you hear.
Silver bells, silver bells,
It's Christmastime in the city.
Hear the bells go ding-a-ling, hear them ring,
Soon it will be Christmas day...
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Half The World
Half the world lives,
Half the world makes,
Half the world gives
While the other half takes.
Half the world hates,
Half the world runs away,
Half the world's late,
Half the world praises the day.
Half the world is,
Half the world was,
Half the world thinks,
Half the world does.
Half the world lies,
Half the world burns,
Half the world cries
While the other half turns.
Half the world cares,
Half the world weeps,
Half the world shares,
Half the world keeps.
Half the world sings,
Half the world laughs,
Half the world brings,
Half the world tries to be the other half.
End.
Silver Bells
City side walks, busy side walks
Dressed in holiday style
In the air there's a feeling of Christmas
Children laughing
People passing
Meeting smile after smile
And in every corner you'll hear.
Silver bells, silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring a ling, hear them ring
Soon it will be Christmas day.
Strings of street lights
Even stop lights
Blink a bright red and green
As the shoppers rush home with their treasures
Hear the snow crunch
See the kids bunch
This is Santa's big scene
And above all the bustle you'll hear.
Silver bells, silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring a ling, hear them ring
Soon it will be Christmas day.
Soon it will be Christmas day.
Christmas day.
Silver bells.
Silver bells.
Silver bells...
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Half The World
Only one shadow on the wall
Just one candle burning bright
I hold your picture to my heart
Im alone inside the night
The sun comes up in china ... the lights go on in rome
Half the world is waiting for someone they can hold
Half the world is praying theyll never be alone
Everytime you leave me a part of me goes too
And half your world is waiting here for you
I reach across an empty bed
I hear your whisper in my ear
But like the sun without the moon
Its half a dream without you here
The train that takes you from me
Brings somebody home
Half the world is waiting for someone they can hold
Half the world is praying theyll never be alone
Everytime you leave me a part of me goes too
And half your world is waiting here for you
Baby the earth stands still
When Im lying next to you
No matter where you go
Our whole worlds inside this room
The sun comes up in china
The lights go on in rome ... oh
Half the world is waiting for someone they can hold
Half the world is praying theyll never be alone
And everytime you leave me my heart breaks in two
And half the world is waiting here for you
Im waiting here for you ...
song performed by by Belinda Carlisle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Fancies
When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow,
We hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago.
And etched on vacant places,
Are half forgotten faces
Of friends we used to cherish, and loves we used to know –
When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow.
Uprising from the ocean of the present surging near,
We see, with strange emotion that is not free from fear,
That continent Elysian
Long vanished from our vision,
Youth’s lovely lost Atlantis, so mourned for and so dear,
Uprising from the ocean of the present surging near.
When gloomy gray Decembers are roused to Christmas mirth,
The dullest life remembers there once was joy on earth,
And draws from youth’s recesses
Some memory it possesses,
And, gazing through the lens of time, exaggerates its worth,
When gloomy gray December is roused to Christmas mirth.
When hanging up the holly or mistletoe, I wis
Each heart recalls some folly that lit the world with bliss.
Not all the seers and sages
With wisdom of the ages
Can give the mind such pleasure as memories of that kiss
When hanging up the holly or mistletoe, I wis.
For life was made for loving, and love alone repays,
As passing years are proving for all of Time’s sad ways.
There lies a sting in pleasure,
And fame gives shallow measure,
And wealth is but a phantom that mocks the restless days,
For life was made for loving, and only loving pays.
When Christmas bells are pelting the air with silver chimes,
And silences are melting to soft, melodious rhymes,
Let Love, the worlds beginning,
End fear and hate and sinning;
Let Love, the God Eternal, be worshipped in all climes
When Christmas bells are pelting the air with silver chimes.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Ave Maria In Rome
FAR away dim violet mountains
Fade away from sight;
Flashing from fantastic fountains,
Jets the liquid light,
Where from Nymph's or Triton's lip
Bubbling waters drip and drip,
Bubbling day and night.
Pealed from tower to answering tower,
O'er the city swells,
Ringing in the hallowed hour,
Rhythm of bells on bells;
And on wings of Choral Song,
Confluent hearts to Mary throng,
From low, cloistered cells.
On the golden ground of even,
Like a half-way home,
On the pilgrim to heaven
Floats St. Peter's Dome;
High, high, in the air alone,
Man's dread Thought transformed to stone,
Pinnacled o'er Rome.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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When the rest of nature comes to me
Late in the afternoon each bright weaver gambols
when the evening star shines blue-white,
each pretty butterfly flutters around
when wild pigeons land on the ground;
I am astonished in the restless city
when the rest of nature comes to me.
Through the trees the wind is a whispering,
when birds call in the silver twilight,
when the sun disappears, red behind the hillocks,
when stars appear with lights that wink,
I am astonished in the restless city
when the rest of nature comes to me.
Far away guinea fowls are calling,
preoccupied I sit peaceful on the porch,
see in the distance city lights shining
when the bats cavort to and thro,
I am astonished in the restless city
when the rest of nature comes to me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The City Sings the Song of Death
The City sings the song of Death
Death that roams in the streets
Fearless and merciless, its hands smeared with blood
Its clothes drenched, its desire insatiable
It yearns for more bodies, for more and more
And yet more
The City sings the song of Death
A song whose tragic pitch would scare of birds
Were they to listen to its harrowing cadence
A song that makes babies cry and disturbs the old
A song that is sung by every one who lives in the city of Death
In fear, in pain, in terror
For Death itself has come to life
For Death itself, unchained and unchecked, roams around freely
Who shall now question Death?
The City sings the song of Death
My City sings the song of Death
I too sing the song of Death
And so do the millions that live with me
In the City of Death
poem by Abdul Samad
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Bells Beyond the Forest
Wild-eyed woodlands, here I rest me, underneath the gaunt and ghastly trees;
Underneath fantastic-fronted caverns crammed with many a muffled breeze.
Far away from dusky towns and cities twinkling with the feet of men;
Listening to a sound of mellow music fleeting down the gusty glen;
Sitting by a rapid torrent, with the broken sunset in my face;
By a rapid, roaring torrent, tumbling through a dark and lonely place!
And I hear the bells beyond the forest, and the voice of distant streams;
And a flood of swelling singing, wafting round a world of ruined dreams.
Like to one who watches daylight dying from a lofty mountain spire,
When the autumn splendour scatters like a gust of faintly-gleaming fire;
So the silent spirit looketh through a mist of faded smiles and tears,
While across it stealeth all the sad and sweet divinity of years—
All the scenes of shine and shadow; light and darkness sleeping side by side
When my heart was wedded to existence, as a bridegroom to his bride:
While I travelled gaily onward with the vapours crowding in my wake,
Deeming that the Present hid the glory where the promised Morn would break.
Like to one who, by the waters standing, marks the reeling ocean wave
Moaning, hide his head all torn and shivered underneath his lonely cave,
So the soul within me glances at the tides of Purpose where they creep,
Dashed to fragments by the yawning ridges circling Life’s tempestuous Deep!
Oh! the tattered leaves are dropping, dropping round me like a fall of rain;
While the dust of many a broken aspiration sweeps my troubled brain;
With the yearnings after Beauty, and the longings to be good and great;
And the thoughts of catching Fortune, flying on the tardy wings of Fate.
Bells, beyond the forest chiming, where is all the inspiration now
That was wont to flush my forehead, and to chase the pallor from my brow?
Did I not, amongst these thickets, weave my thoughts and passions into rhyme,
Trusting that the words were golden, hoping for the praise of after-time?
Where have all those fancies fled to? Can the fond delusion linger still,
When the Evening withers o’er me, and the night is creeping up the hill?
If the years of strength have left me, and my life begins to fail and fade,
Who will learn my simple ballads; who will stay to sing the songs I’ve made?
Bells, beyond the forest ringing, lo, I hasten to the world again;
For the sun has smote the empty windows, and the day is on the wane!
Hear I not a dreamy echo, soughing through the rafters of the tree;
Like a sound of stormy rivers, or the ravings of a restless sea?
Should I loiter here to listen, while this fitful wind is on the wing?
No, the heart of Time is sobbing, and my spirit is a withered thing!
Let the rapid torrents tumble, let the woodlands whistle in the blast;
Mighty minstrels sing behind me, but the promise of my youth is past.
poem by Henry Kendall
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Half Moon Jammin
This is about Half Moon Open Mic Nights Harrow on the Hill
Mary Fairy not so scary
How do we count the ways?
We think you're swell
With drums and bells
Your 'parlour nights'
Make us feel bright
You sprinkle your fairy dust and charm
Your aim is for happiness
Not to cause harm
So next time you walk past 'Half Moon' look inside
You'll find merriment, talent, friendship and pride
We do what we do for the gifts we are sharing
But mostly we do it for you who are caring
You'd better be quick, it gets packed, you'll get shoved!
Don't take it personally, @ Half Moon we're all loved!
So next time you walk past the 'Jam Session @ Half Moon'
Come on in for a moment you'll be pleasantly surprised!
Keiran and Caithriona welcome one and all
and should you get tipsy they'll catch you if you fall!
poem by Valerie Reid
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The Bridge
I stood on the bridge at midnight,
As the clocks were striking the hour,
And the moon rose o'er the city,
Behind the dark church-tower.
I saw her bright reflection
In the watrers under me,
Like a golden goblet falling
And sinking into the sea.
And far in the hazy distance
Of that lovely night in June,
The blaze of the gleaming furnace
Gleamed redder than the moon.
Among the long, black rafters
The wavering shadows lay,
And the current that came from the ocean
Seemed to lift and bear them away.
As, sweeping and eddying through them
Rose the belated tide,
And, streaming into the moonlight,
The seaweed floated wide.
And like those waters rushing
Among the wooden piers,
A flood of thoughts came o'er me
That filled my eyes with tears.
How often, oh how often,
In the days that had gone by,
I had stood on that bridge at midnight
And gazed on that wave and sky!
How often oh how often,
I had wished that the ebbing tide
Would bear me away on its bosom
O'er the ocean wild and wide!
For my heart was hot and restless,
And my life was full of care,
And the burden laid upon me
Seemed greater than I could bear.
But now it has fallen from me,
It is buried in the sea;
And only the sorrow of others
Throws its shadow over me.
Yet whenever I cross the river
On its bridge with wooden piers,
Like the odor of brine from the ocean
Comes the thought of other years.
And I think how many thousands
Of care-encumbered men,
Each bearing his burden of sorrow,
Have crossed the bridge since then.
I see the long procession
Still passing to and fro,
The young heart hot and restless,
And the old subdued and slow!
And forever and forever,
As long as the river flows,
As long as the heart has passions,
As long as life has woes;
The moon and its broken reflection
Aand its shadows shall appear,
As the symbol of love in heaven,
And its wavering image here.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Silver Bells
City sidewalks, busy sidewalks
Dressed in holiday style
In the air theres a feeling like christmas
Children laughing, people passing
Meeting smile after smile
And on every street corner you hear
Silver bells, silver bells
Its christmas time in the city
Ring-a-ling, hear them ring
Soon it will be christmas day
Strings of street lights
Even stop lights
Blink a bright red and green
As the shoppers rush home with their treasures
Hear the snow crunch
See the kids bunch
This is santas big scene
And above all the bustle you hear
Silver bells, silver bells
Its christmas time in the city
Ring-a-ling, hear them ring
Soon it will be christmas day
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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