Serenade from “The Spanish Student”
STARS of the summer night!
Far in yon azure deeps,
Hide, hide your golden light!
She sleeps!
My lady sleeps!
Sleeps!
Moon of the summer night!
Far down yon western steeps,
Sink, sink in silver light!
She sleeps!
My lady sleeps!
Sleeps!
Wind of the summer night!
Where yonder woodbine creeps,
Fold, fold thy pinions light!
She sleeps!
My lady sleeps!
Sleeps!
Dreams of the summer night!
Tell her, her lover keeps
Watch! while in slumbers light
She sleeps!
My lady sleeps!
Sleeps!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Related quotes
While The City Sleeps
What goes on behind closed doors, private wounds, open sores
Youre your own worst enemy and cheap thrills bring you to your knees
Its thumbs down for someone you know, and its easy come and easy go
Chorus:
Burn your bridges, take what you can get
Go for the throat cause you paid your debt
Livin well is the best revenge, so give em hell
While the city sleeps - its all there in black and white
While the city sleeps - through the eye of the needle, gotta thread your life
While the city sleeps - while the city sleeps
Its a hit or miss, an eye for an eye, live for today, and dont ask why
For better or worse, you bought and sold
They love you while youre hot and leave you when youre cold
Chorus
While the city sleeps - yeah, better run for your life
Take your troubles to the night
While the city sleeps - yeah, beggars, thieves and losers, theres no relief
While the city sleeps - theres no relief, while the city sleeps
While the city sleeps - yeah
Chorus
While the city sleeps - while the city sleeps
While the city sleeps - while the city sleeps
While the city sleeps - yeah, theres no relief
While the city sleeps
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Chattahoochee River
The Chattahoochee River is muddy and deep,
Rolls restless in her bed, and never sleeps.
She churns, whirls, and sometimes creeps,
But the Chattahoochee River never sleeps.
She cascades, crashes, her falls are steep,
So the Chattahoochee River never sleeps.
A child, in innocence, in her water leaps,
Unaware, the Chattahoochee never sleeps.
She snatches him down, his little body to keep,
Cause the Chattahoochee River never sleeps.
He struggles for his life, so tender and meek.
Oh! the Chattahoochee River never sleeps.
She steals his breath, while caressing his cheeks.
Careless Chattahoochee River just never sleeps.
poem by Willie Wilburn Walker
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My Baby Sleeps
The wind is loud in the west to-night,
But Baby sleeps;
The wild wind blows with all its might,
But Baby sleeps;
My Baby sleeps, and he does not hear
The noise of the storm in the pine trees near.
The snow is drifting high to-night,
But Baby sleeps;
The bitter world is cold and white,
But Baby sleeps;
My Baby sleeps, so fast, so fast,
That he does not heed the wintry blast.
The cold snows drift, and the wild winds rave,
But Baby sleeps;
And a white cross stands by his little grave,
While Baby sleeps;
And the storm is loud in the rocking pine,
But its moan is not so deep as mine.
poem by George A. Mackenzie
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Man only indulges at night
Tigers sleep, deer sleep,
Cats sleep, rats sleep,
The water sleeps, the earth sleeps,
Everything sleeps when the sun sleeps.
But human beings are awake,
Only at night, in bed, thinking of sex.
12.07.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Among The Tombs
She is a lady fair and wise,
Her heart her counsel keeps,
And well she knows of time that flies
And tide that onward sweeps;
But still she sits with restless eyes
Where Memory sleeps---
Where Memory sleeps.
Ye that have heard the whispering dead
In every wind that creeps,
Or felt the stir that strains the lead
Beneath the mounded heaps,
Tread softly, ah! more softly tread
Where Memory sleeps---
Where Memory sleeps.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Sleeps With Angels
She wasnt perfect
She had some trips of her own
He wasnt worried
At least he wasnt alone (too late)
He sleeps with angels (too soon)
Hes always on someones mind
He sleeps with angels (too late)
He sleeps with angels (too soon)
She was a teen queen
She saw the dark side of life
She made things happen
But when he did it that night
She ran up phone bills
She moved around from town to town (too late)
He sleeps with angels (too soon)
Hes always on someones mindhe sleeps with angels
He sleeps with angels
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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City sleeps
I love the night
Because when the city sleeps
It's never more awake
It's like a whole new world comes to life
When the city sleeps I lay awake
Looking toward the light
When the city sleeps it is reborn
When the city sleeps it's never more awake
poem by Zack Dozier
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Sorrow is better than insomnia.
Neither a sister, nor a daughter,
Nor any one by blood you are.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Never a tryst, nor a rendezvous,
Nor an innuendo, you granted.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Glamour, splendor, or pretext,
You never played to gravitate.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Formidable and forbidden you were.
Sojourn was so short.
Parting was abrupt and aborting.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Every beginning has an end.
An episode should, however, end.
But abortion and usurpation?
May be, by a boon I’ll see you soon.
That can retrieve our past monsoon.
But the crop is already gone.
So my sorrow never sleeps.
Time was over before I could score.
No more game is set up in the court.
That is why my sorrow never sleeps.
With your parting, came to an end
All my springs and monsoons.
Let my sorrow never sleep.
It is better than insomnia.
08.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Below Her Window
Where she sleeps, no moonlight shines
No pale beam unbidden creeps.
Darkest shade the place enshrines
Where she sleeps.
Like a diamond in the deeps
Of the rich unopened mines
There her lovely rest she keeps.
Though the jealous dark confines
All her beauty, Love's heart leaps.
His unerring thought divines
Where she sleeps.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Lambs
He sleeps as a lamb sleeps,
Beside his mother.
Somewhere in yon blue deeps
His tender brother
Sleeps like a lamb and leaps.
He feeds as a lamb might,
Beside his mother.
Somewhere in fields of light
A lamb, his brother,
Feeds, and is clothed in white.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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In These Sessons
in the night where the moon shins my soul sleeps and my heart bets.
in the cold winther nights my soul sleeps and my heart crys out for your wormth.
in the hot summer days my soul awakes and my heart feeds for you heart of shade.
in the cool spring nights my soul sleeps and my heart bags for your soft sweet heart.
in the fall morings where the leaves fall my heart crys bags hurts for your key to your heart.
in these sessons my soul sleeps and awakes my heart bets crys bags and hurts for your heart to lay aganst my heart.
poem by Stephen Vega
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The Change Has Come
THE change has come, and Helen sleeps—
Not sleeps; but wakes to greater deeps
Of wisdom, glory, truth, and light,
Than ever blessed her seeking sight,
In this low, long, lethargic night,
Worn out with strife
Which men call life.
The change has come, and who would say
'I would it were not come to-day'?
What were the respite till to-morrow?
Postponement of a certain sorrow,
From which each passing day would borrow!
Let grief be dumb,
The change has come.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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While He Sleeps
While he sleeps
The cricket sounds it's chord's
Outside 'neath our window
Where our lily's are responding
To the rainy mist & summer warmth;
While he sleeps
Within the windowpane of his dreams
I trace my index finger
'Cross his soft cheek
Just barely touching
Not wanting to awaken him
Here in the benediction of our loving bed;
Where imagination and fantasy take flight
Upon Heavenly wings of delight
Where sweet slumber offers such blessed repose
Where i tremble with the knowledge
Of just how much i love him
Where i am filled with knowing
That an eternity of loving him
Can never be enough
All of this comes to me
While he sleeps
By: Theodora Onken
July 29,2012
poem by Theodora Onken
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She sleeps
She sleeps
~
She sleeps
her heart, soul at peace
she is as beautiful
as any painting by any artist
no brush has born such beauty
silence fills the walls
and the day is calm
my thoughts like trees
take deep roots
into the earth of my soul
unmoveable
mountains, stars and the sky
rise into an endless expanse
I wonder on her dreams
what places she sees
the weather and colours
the faces and events
unfolding
she sleeps
and I
I am moved
by her quiet beauty
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Voyageur
LIKE the swarthy son of some tropic shore
He sleeps, with his olive bosom bared,
He sleeps–in his earrings of brassy ore.
Like a tawny tiger whom hot hours bore,
When all night long he has growled and glared
At the swarthy son of some tropic shore,
Like a fierce-eyed blossom with heart of gore
That too long in the sun-flushed fields has flared,
He sleeps–in his earrings of brassy ore,
And his scarlet sash that he gaily wore
To tempt Madelon–who his heart has snared,
Like the swarthy son of some tropic shore.
That dusky form might a queen adore–
Prenez garde, Madelon, for a season spared,
He sleeps–in his earrings of brassy ore.
For a season only. What may be in store
For Madelon? She who has never cared! . . .
Like the swarthy son of some tropic shore
He sleeps–in his earrings of brassy ore.
poem by Susan Frances Harrison
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The Voyageur
LIKE the swarthy son of some tropic shore
He sleeps, with his olive bosom bared,
He sleeps–in his earrings of brassy ore.
Like a tawny tiger whom hot hours bore,
When all night long he has growled and glared
At the swarthy son of some tropic shore,
Like a fierce-eyed blossom with heart of gore
That too long in the sun-flushed fields has flared,
He sleeps–in his earrings of brassy ore,
And his scarlet sash that he gaily wore
To tempt Madelon–who his heart has snared,
Like the swarthy son of some tropic shore.
That dusky form might a queen adore–
Prenez garde, Madelon, for a season spared,
He sleeps–in his earrings of brassy ore.
For a season only. What may be in store
For Madelon? She who has never cared! . . .
Like the swarthy son of some tropic shore
He sleeps–in his earrings of brassy ore.
poem by Susie Frances Harrison
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Sonnet: The Beggar's Sleep
Like wooden log, he sleeps with weary mind,
At times, he spends a sleepless night till dawn;
Insects, animalcules, his frame does find;
Giving happiness that birds will sense at morn.
Under the wide and starry night, He lies,
And sleeps in Mother Nature's lap cold earth;
Who cares if he lives or suddenly dies;
Half-naked lies his frame, naked at birth.
With heavy heart, his drunken torso sleeps,
In golden splendour of a Moonlit night;
Sometimes, within his heart, he sadly weeps,
The world of men ignore his nasty plight.
Nevertheless, Heaven is open wide,
How can the Maker ev'r a beggar chide?
poem by John Celes
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Only Peace Thrives
Only peace thrives
Innocence sleeps
on the dreaming eye lids
of a toddling child
so nascent so fresh
as the drooling dews
on a quivering grass blade
as the first morning
of cool winter
smiles innocuously.
Only peace thrives
Innocence sleeps
no war no war-cry
only peace and peace thrives
a cow boy sings the song of joy
in a remote yet not far grass land
the innocence sleeps
nestling on the bed of roses
the frisky fragrance of love
the garland of motley hopes
touches his chin tenderly
he could see his God
the divine possibilities
with the dancing tune of nature
so close to his imbued heart
that is filled with
only joy and happiness.
Innocence sleeps
no war no war cry
and only peace thrives.
poem by Tarapada Mohapatra
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Cat's Dream
How neatly a cat sleeps,
sleeps with its paws and its posture,
sleeps with its wicked claws,
and with its unfeeling blood,
sleeps with all the rings--
a series of burnt circles--
which have formed the odd geology
of its sand-colored tail.
I should like to sleep like a cat,
with all the fur of time,
with a tongue rough as flint,
with the dry sex of fire;
and after speaking to no one,
stretch myself over the world,
over roofs and landscapes,
with a passionate desire
to hunt the rats in my dreams.
I have seen how the cat asleep
would undulate, how the night
flowed through it like dark water;
and at times, it was going to fall
or possibly plunge into
the bare deserted snowdrifts.
Sometimes it grew so much in sleep
like a tiger's great-grandfather,
and would leap in the darkness over
rooftops, clouds and volcanoes.
Sleep, sleep cat of the night,
with episcopal ceremony
and your stone-carved moustache.
Take care of all our dreams;
control the obscurity
of our slumbering prowess
with your relentless heart
and the great ruff of your tail.
Translated by Alastair Reid
Submitted by Jen
poem by Pablo Neruda
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The Siesta
FROM THE SPANISH.
Vientecico murmurador,
Que lo gozas y andas todo, &c.
Airs, that wander and murmur round,
Bearing delight where'er ye blow!
Make in the elms a lulling sound,
While my lady sleeps in the shade below.
Lighten and lengthen her noonday rest,
Till the heat of the noonday sun is o'er.
Sweet be her slumbers! though in my breast
The pain she has waked may slumber no more.
Breathing soft from the blue profound,
Bearing delight where'er ye blow,
Make in the elms a lulling sound,
While my lady sleeps in the shade below.
Airs! that over the bending boughs,
And under the shade of pendent leaves,
Murmur soft, like my timid vows
Or the secret sighs my bosom heaves,--
Gently sweeping the grassy ground,
Bearing delight where'er ye blow,
Make in the elms a lulling sound,
While my lady sleeps in the shade below.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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