Musings
I sat by my window one night,
And watched how the stars grew high;
And the earth and skies were a splendid sight
To a sober and musing eye.
From heaven the silver moon shone down
With gentle and mellow ray,
And beneath the crowded roofs of the town
In broad light and shadow lay.
A glory was on the silent sea,
And mainland and island too,
Till a haze came over the lowland lea,
And shrouded that beautiful blue.
Bright in the moon the autumn wood
Its crimson scarf unrolled,
And the trees like a splendid army stood
In a panoply of gold!
I saw them waving their banners high,
As their crests to the night wind bowed,
And a distant sound on the air went by,
Like the whispering of a crowd.
Then I watched from my window how fast
The lights all around me fled,
As the wearied man to his slumber passed
And the sick one to his bed.
All faded save one, that burned
With distant and steady light;
But that, too, went out -- and I turned
Where my own lamp within shone bright!
Thus, thought I, our joys must die,
Yes -- the brightest from earth we win:
Till each turns away, with a sign,
To the lamp that burns brightly within.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Related quotes
Last Lunar Eclipse
Autumn came in mild and sweet, the Harvest Moon was due.
I sat beside an open window, until it came into view
A soft breeze played across my face, like zephyrs from Angel's Wings.
The stars shone brightly in the sky, bright, Heavenly, Cosmic Things.
The moon, majestically on high, rose over mountains yonder,
And filled the valley with it's light, my heart o'erflowed with wonder.
The Big Dipper shone so brightly, anticipating, it seems.
That it would fill it's ladle, with liquid silver moon beams.
Then Mother Earth did her own thing, She covered moon, stars and clouds,
Like some great, living creature, being covered by a shroud.
The moon was round and reddish, like a ripe peach in the sky,
Still great, in all it's glory, it seemed to make Earth sigh.
Then the lovely Harvest Moon, came to us one again,
The last eclipse of this century, this enigma, so witnessed by man.
poem by Gloria Huntington
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Lamplight Symphony
On a winter's night, stars are cold and bright in the sky,
The slumber of the earth is pure and deep
From a distant wood, drifts the echo of a beast
The old man stirs and wakens in the night
He stands before his window gazing at the grave
Forgotten dreams are flashing through his weary mind
And though his life is empty, he pretends that she's still there
With hunger in his soul, he yearns for life and love gone by,
With memories his one and only joy
All he has to give, he would give to bring back the life,
And raise the one who lies beneath the snow
He lights a lamp and looks at pictures of the past
The faces of their youth still glow with new-found love,
But the picture's faded, and time has stolen youth away
With a spoken word that he thought he heard from her lips,
He felt another presence in the room,
He was filled with fear but filled with joy he arose
And turned to face the image that he knew
She stood before him and her hand reached out for his
A peaceful light shone in her eyes
She said she'd come to soothe him, and someday they'd be as one
She began to fade and her image disappeared,
So he was left alone to face the night,
Never in his life, had he been so held in awe,
As he faced the apparition of his wife
He stood before the window gazing at the grave,
And with a lightened heart he saw the first of dawn,
He knew that she was waiting, that someday they'd be as one
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Excerpt From Lamplight Symphony
On a winter's night, stars are cold and bright in the sky,
The slumber of the earth is pure and deep
From a distant wood, drifts the echo of a beast
The old man stirs and wakens in the night
He stands before his window gazing at the grave
Forgotten dreams are flashing through his weary mind
And though his life is empty, he pretends that she's still there
With hunger in his soul, he yearns for life and love gone by,
With memories his one and only joy
All he has to give, he would give to bring back the life,
And raise the one who lies beneath the snow
He lights a lamp and looks at pictures of the past
The faces of their youth still glow with new-found love,
But the picture's faded, and time has stolen youth away
With a spoken word that he thought he heard from her lips,
He felt another presence in the room,
He was filled with fear but filled with joy he arose
And turned to face the image that he knew
She stood before him and her hand reached out for his
A peaceful light shone in her eyes
She said she'd come to soothe him, and someday they'd be as one
She began to fade and her image disappeared,
So he was left alone to face the night,
Never in his life, had he been so held in awe,
As he faced the apparition of his wife
He stood before the window gazing at the grave,
And with a lightened heart he saw the first of dawn,
He knew that she was waiting, that someday they'd be as one
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Thought
Into the skies, one summer's day,
I sent a little Thought away;
Up to where, in the blue round,
The sun sat shining without sound.
Then my Thought came back to me.—
Little Thought, what did you see
In the regions whence you come?
And when I spoke, my Thought was dumb.
But she breathed of what was there,
In the pure bright upper air;
And, because my Thought so shone,
I knew she had been shone upon.
Next, by night a Thought I sent
Up into the firmament;
When the eager stars were out,
And the still moon shone about.
And my Thought went past the moon
In between the stars, but soon
Held her breath and durst not stir,
For the fear that covered her;
Then she thought, in this demur:
'Dare I look beneath the shade,
Into where the worlds are made;
Where the suns and stars are wrought?
Shall I meet another Thought?
'Will that other Thought have wings?
Shall I meet strange, heavenly things?
Thought of Thoughts, and Light of Lights,
Breath of Breaths, and Night of Nights?'
Then my Thought began to hark
In the illuminated dark,
Till the silence, over, under,
Made her heart beat more than thunder.
And my Thought, came trembling back,
But with something on her track,
And with something at her side;
Nor till she has lived and died,
Lived and died, and lived again,
Will that awful thing seem plain.
poem by William Brighty Rands
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Fluctuations
What though the sun had left my sky;
To save me from despair
The blessed moon arose on high,
And shone serenely there.
I watched her, with a tearful gaze,
Rise slowly o'er the hill,
While through the dim horizon's haze
Her light gleamed faint and chill.
I thought such wan and lifeless beams
Could ne'er my heart repay,
For the bright sun's most transient gleams
That cheered me through the day:
But as above that mist's control
She rose, and brighter shone,
I felt her light upon my soul;
But now - that light is gone!
Thick vapours snatched her from my sight,
And I was darkling left,
All in the cold and gloomy night,
Of light and hope bereft:
Until, methought, a little star
Shone forth with trembling ray,
To cheer me with its light afar -
But that, too, passed away.
Anon, an earthly meteor blazed
The gloomy darkness through;
I smiled, yet trembled while I gazed -
But that soon vanished too!
And darker, drearier fell the night
Upon my spirit then; -
But what is that faint struggling light?
Is it the Moon again?
Kind Heaven! increase that silvery gleam,
And bid these clouds depart,
And let her soft celestial beam
Restore my fainting heart!
poem by Anne Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Troubadours
From the ancient sun to the old heart stove come the troubadours
From the city gates to the castle walls its the troubadours
On a sunlit day it was bright and clear
And the people came from far and they came from near
To hear the troubadours
Well the troubadours sang their songs of love to the lady fair
She was sitting outside on a balcony in in the cool night air
It was a starry night the moon was shining bright
And the trumpets rang and they gave a chime
For the troubadours
And for everyman all across the land and from shore to shore
They came singin songs of love and chivalry from the days of yore
Baby lift your window high do you hear that sound
Its the troubadours as they go through town
Baby lift your window high do you hear that sound
Its the troubadours with their freedom song
Lift your window high turn your lamp down low baby
Dont you know I love you so
Lift your window high do you dig that sound
Its the troubadours coming through town
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Moon Any Moon
IF your lucky to fall in love under a
Blue Moon, you will be lucky they
only happen every 2.72 years
But most lovers do not have that
on the mind, any moon if the mood
strikes, will be all right
.
Love has been known to bloom
under any moon.
And on any given night.
Blue, Silver, Harvest, Ice Moon
there's fourty different kinds
You only need one to fall in love
Some love to just sit and watch the
moon and stars, others will gaze
at the moon while laying on their back
Mothers will read their children
'' GOOD-NIGHT MOON''
before they tuck them in
at night
On a clear night a full moon
will shine so bright, nature will
use it as her night light.
Its never out of your sight.
The moon is the second
brightest thing on earth
with sun being first.
You shine so bright how
can it be? .
When your so far? .
GAYLE ANNE GOFF
FEB,2009
the moon;
is 384,400 KM from earth
3476 KM in diameter
called LUNA by the Romans
SELENE by the Greeks
4.6 billion years old
29.5 days beteen new
moons 709 hours
poem by Gayle Anne Goff
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The Tower
One, from his high bright window in a tower,
Leans out, as evening falls,
And sees the advancing curtain of the shower
Splashing its silver on roofs and walls:
Sees how, swift as a shadow, it crosses the city,
And murmurs beyond far walls to the sea,
Leaving a glimmer of water in the dark canyons,
And silver falling from eave and tree.
One, from his high bright window, looking down,
Peers like a dreamer over the rain-bright town,
And thinks its towers are like a dream.
The western windows flame in the sun's last flare,
Pale roofs begin to gleam.
Looking down from a window high in a wall
He sees us all;
Lifting our pallid faces towards the rain,
Searching the sky, and going our ways again,
Standing in doorways, waiting under the trees . . .
There, in the high bright window he dreams, and sees
What we are blind to,-we who mass and crowd
From wall to wall in the darkening of a cloud.
The gulls drift slowly above the city of towers,
Over the roofs to the darkening sea they fly;
Night falls swiftly on an evening of rain.
The yellow lamps wink one by one again.
The towers reach higher and blacker against the sky.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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The House Of Dust: Part 01: 02: One, from his high bright window in a tower
One, from his high bright window in a tower,
Leans out, as evening falls,
And sees the advancing curtain of the shower
Splashing its silver on roofs and walls:
Sees how, swift as a shadow, it crosses the city,
And murmurs beyond far walls to the sea,
Leaving a glimmer of water in the dark canyons,
And silver falling from eave and tree.
One, from his high bright window, looking down,
Peers like a dreamer over the rain-bright town,
And thinks its towers are like a dream.
The western windows flame in the sun's last flare,
Pale roofs begin to gleam.
Looking down from a window high in a wall
He sees us all;
Lifting our pallid faces towards the rain,
Searching the sky, and going our ways again,
Standing in doorways, waiting under the trees . . .
There, in the high bright window he dreams, and sees
What we are blind to,—we who mass and crowd
From wall to wall in the darkening of a cloud.
The gulls drift slowly above the city of towers,
Over the roofs to the darkening sea they fly;
Night falls swiftly on an evening of rain.
The yellow lamps wink one by one again.
The towers reach higher and blacker against the sky.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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God’s Lights
Morning’s painting on the sky above, covers this earth like a glove,
Clouds covered by the sun’s rays, filling earth with abundant praise.
With yet another day to unfold, of God’s wonderful Glory to behold,
The beauty fills hearts and minds, with awe for God’s grand design.
Before the sun is overhead, God paints the clouds a gorgeous red,
This as He moves earth out of night, into the brightness of daylight.
At times the sunlight He shrouds, hiding the sun behind the clouds,
Clouds God paints upon the sky, as wide and vast as they are high.
Although the sun is hid from sight, God keeps it there till fall of night,
Then it’s truly veiled from all eyes, by the ever darker evening skies.
When God shows us another side, as He allows the daylight to hide,
As night’s ushered in by Heaven, God’s lesser light starts to descend.
Now under an ever darker canopy, with lights far as the eye can see,
And the moon above phase by phase, to count both nights and days,
God starts with a new moon friend, with the full moon at month’s end.
This is how God lights the skies, above a world that is filled with eyes.
Lights placed above for all to see, by the hand of The God of Eternity.
The Greatest Light we cannot see; The One who died for you and me.
The Light of Christ soon will shine, from the Eternal City for all of time,
No more need of the moon or sun, for the only Light will be God’s Son.
Moon Light
Moon Rises High Into The Sky
The Moon Is Gray
The Moon Is Bright
The Moon Is Full
Every Night The Moon Comes Out And Goes Down.
The Moon Shines Onto The Earth.
Brightens My Path.
I Look at The Moon And Say 'Moon Light Moon Light Bright My Path As You Shine My Way'
The moon Looks down And Shines My Path.
I Walk To The Pond And The Reflection of The Moon The Moon Is Beautiful And Bright.
The Moon Will Never Disappear.
The Brightness With Alwayz Shine My Path.
poem by Sonya Wesley
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A Canadian Summer Evening
The rose-tints have faded from out of the West,
From the Mountain’s high peak, from the river’s broad breast.
And, silently shadowing valley and rill,
The twilight steals noiselessly over the hill.
Behold, in the blue depths of ether afar,
Now softly emerging each glittering star;
While, later, the moon, placid, solemn and bright,
Floods earth with her tremulous, silvery light.
Hush! list to the Whip-poor-will’s soft plaintive notes,
As up from the valley the lonely sound floats,
Inhale the sweet breath of yon shadowy wood
And the wild flowers blooming in hushed solitude.
Start not at the whispering, ’tis but the breeze,
Low rustling, ’mid maple and lonely pine trees,
Or willows and alders that fringe the dark tide
Where canoes of the red men oft silently glide.
See, rising from out of that copse, dark and damp,
The fire-flies, each bearing a flickering lamp!
Like meteors, gleaming and streaming, they pass
O’er hillside and meadow, and dew-laden grass,
Contrasting with ripple on river and stream,
Alternately playing in shadow and beam,
Till fullness of beauty fills hearing and sight
Throughout the still hours of a calm summer’s night.
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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Earlier Poems : Autumn
With what a glory comes and goes the year!
The buds of spring, those beautiful harbingers
Of sunny skies and cloudless times, enjoy
Life's newness, and earth's garniture spread out;
And when the silver habit of the clouds
Comes down upon the autumn sun, and with
A sober gladness the old year takes up
His bright inheritance of golden fruits,
A pomp and pageant fill the splendid scene.
There is a beautiful spirit breathing now
Its mellow richness on the clustered trees,
And, from a beaker full of richest dyes,
Pouring new glory on the autumn woods,
And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds.
Morn on the mountain, like a summer bird,
Lifts up her purple wing, and in the vales
The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate wooer,
Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life
Within the solemn woods of ash deep-crimsoned,
And silver beech, and maple yellow-leaved,
Where Autumn, like a faint old man, sits down
By the wayside a-weary. Through the trees
The golden robin moves. The purple finch,
That on wild cherry and red cedar feeds,
A winter bird, comes with its plaintive whistle,
And pecks by the witch-hazel, whilst aloud
From cottage roofs the warbling blue-bird sings,
And merrily, with oft-repeated stroke,
Sounds from the threshing-floor the busy flail.
O what a glory doth this world put on
For him who, with a fervent heart, goes forth
Under the bright and glorious sky, and looks
On duties well performed, and days well spent!
For him the wind, ay, and the yellow leaves,
Shall have a voice, and give him eloquent teachings.
He shall so hear the solemn hymn that Death
Has lifted up for all, that he shall go
To his long resting-place without a tear.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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One More Night
One more night, the stars are in sight
But tonight Im as lonesome as can be.
Oh, the moon is shinin bright,
Lighting evrything in sight,
But tonight no light will shine on me.
Oh, its shameful and its sad,
I lost the only pal I had,
I just could not be what she wanted me to be.
I will turn my head up high
To that dark and rolling sky,
For tonight no light will shine on me.
I was so mistaken when I thought that shed be true,
I had no idea what a woman in love would do!
One more night, I will wait for the light
While the wind blows high above the tree.
Oh, I miss my darling so, I didnt mean to see her go,
But tonight no light will shine on me.
One more night, the moon is shinin bright
And the wind blows high above the tree.
Oh, I miss that woman so,
I didnt mean to see her go,
But tonight no light will shine on me.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This year I have seen autumn with new eyes
This year I have seen autumn with new eyes,
Glimpsed hitherto undreamt of mysteries
In the slow ripening of the town-bred trees;
Horse-chestnut lifting wide hands to the skies;
And silver beech turned gold now winter's near;
And elm, whose leaves like little suns appear
Scattering light — all, all have made me wise
And writ me lectures in earth's loveliness,
Whether they laugh through the grey morning mist,
Or by the loving sun at noon are kissed
Or seek at night the high-swung lamp's caress.
Does autumn such a novel splendour wear
Simply because my love has yellow hair?
poem by Lesbia Harford
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The Sky And The Earth
Long ago the sky loved the earth.
But they could not meet,
Because of fear of sun's wrath,
Who paralyzed the earth with heat.
Then the sky cried,
And relieved the earth.
Through the rivers that flew wide
From angry sun's wrath
When at night sun went to sleep,
There was darkness all around.
And the sky used to weep
Until to help him moon and stars came round.
Now the sky could see the earth at night,
For the moon and stars shone bright.
Every thing was right,
Away from sun's sight.
But sun came to know,
And took a vow.
To punish sky and earth,
And asteroids and meteors took birth.
They smashed the earth raising dust cloud.
And the sky bust aloud,
And it wept continuously.
Until earth's scars were filled completely.
Sun became angrier because sky had dared,
To undo the punishment sun had ordered.
And now he shone more bright,
And the whole sky was set alight.
The sky yelped in pain,
But his every try was in vain.
For he had challenged the sun's might,
And got himself into a suicidal fight.
And to this day when the earth is warmed,
The sky weeps relieving earth's pain.
And it seems to meet at horizon,
And after sky weeps a rainbow is formed.
And to this day the sky is waiting
With patience unexhausted.
For the day when the sun will be dead,
And for the day of their meeting.
poem by Anjesh shekhar
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Lamp Flickers Far
Lamp flickers far
And I follow its dull light
That falls wide through the silent forest night
Dim stars and the pale moon
A brook babbles nearby
Faint sound of birds invite the king of skies
Doors of horizon open in his honour
His men and cavillary glitter so gracefully through
As conquered they the heavens and the earth
Celebrate they the death and evil
But till the royal chariot rolls through the milky way with
Its fleet
And the majestic grandeur sets on throne
With a thousand angels of light saluting, honoring and
Admiring him
I follow my humble lamp
That guides me home...
poem by Lama Abbas
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The Waning Moon
I've watched too late; the morn is near;
One look at God's broad silent sky!
Oh, hopes and wishes vainly dear,
How in your very strength ye die!
Even while your glow is on the cheek,
And scarce the high pursuit begun,
The heart grows faint, the hand grows weak,
The task of life is left undone.
See where upon the horizon's brim,
Lies the still cloud in gloomy bars;
The waning moon, all pale and dim,
Goes up amid the eternal stars.
Late, in a flood of tender light,
She floated through the ethereal blue,
A softer sun, that shone all night
Upon the gathering beads of dew.
And still thou wanest, pallid moon!
The encroaching shadow grows apace;
Heaven's everlasting watchers soon
Shall see thee blotted from thy place.
Oh, Night's dethroned and crownless queen!
Well may thy sad, expiring ray
Be shed on those whose eyes have seen
Hope's glorious visions fade away.
Shine thou for forms that once were bright,
For sages in the mind's eclipse,
For those whose words were spells of might,
But falter now on stammering lips!
In thy decaying beam there lies
Full many a grave on hill and plain,
Of those who closed their dying eyes
In grief that they had lived in vain.
Another night, and thou among
The spheres of heaven shalt cease to shine,
All rayless in the glittering throng
Whose lustre late was quenched in thine.
Yet soon a new and tender light
From out thy darkened orb shall beam,
And broaden till it shines all night
On glistening dew and glimmering stream.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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Sparkling Bits of Ice
The wind gently howls through the air
And the sun shines brightly through the grey clouds
Leaves have fallen off the trees
Their branches are moving along with the wind
As time slowly comes to the sunset in the sky
The colors from its glow begin to spread all around
The sunset has faded from the sky at a slow rate
The moon begins to wake up from its long slumber
Night has filled the spaces all over the sky
With the stars scattered around with their bright light
Midnight has arrived and the moon glows brightly
Sparkling bits of ice slowly fall from the sky
poem by Sarah Bruun
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To Thomas Butts
TO my friend Butts I write
My first vision of light,
On the yellow sands sitting.
The sun was emitting
His glorious beams
From Heaven’s high streams.
Over sea, over land,
My eyes did expand
Into regions of air,
Away from all care;
Into regions of fire,
Remote from desire;
The light of the morning
Heaven’s mountains adorning:
In particles bright,
The jewels of light
Distinct shone and clear.
Amaz’d and in fear
I each particle gazèd,
Astonish’d, amazèd;
For each was a Man
Human-form’d. Swift I ran,
For they beckon’d to me,
Remote by the sea,
Saying: ‘Each grain of sand,
Every stone on the land,
Each rock and each hill,
Each fountain and rill,
Each herb and each tree,
Mountain, hill, earth, and sea,
Cloud, meteor, and star,
Are men seen afar.’
I stood in the streams
Of Heaven’s bright beams,
And saw Felpham sweet
Beneath my bright feet,
In soft Female charms;
And in her fair arms
My Shadow I knew,
And my wife’s Shadow too,
And my sister, and friend.
We like infants descend
In our Shadows on earth,
Like a weak mortal birth.
My eyes, more and more,
Like a sea without shore,
Continue expanding,
The Heavens commanding;
Till the jewels of light,
Heavenly men beaming bright,
Appear’d as One Man,
Who complacent began
My limbs to enfold
In His beams of bright gold;
Like dross purg’d away
All my mire and my clay.
Soft consum’d in delight,
In His bosom sun-bright
I remain’d. Soft He smil’d,
And I heard His voice mild,
Saying: ‘This is My fold,
O thou ram horn’d with gold,
Who awakest from sleep
On the sides of the deep.
On the mountains around
The roarings resound
Of the lion and wolf,
The loud sea, and deep gulf.
These are guards of My fold,
O thou ram horn’d with gold!’
And the voice faded mild;
I remain’d as a child;
All I ever had known
Before me bright shone:
I saw you and your wife
By the fountains of life.
Such the vision to me
Appear’d on the sea.
poem by William Blake
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