Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Musician's Tale; The Ballad of Carmilhan - III.
The cabin windows have grown blank
As eyeballs of the dead;
No more the glancing sunbeams burn
On the gilt letters of the stern,
But on the figure-head;
On Valdemar Victorious,
Who looketh with disdain
To see his image in the tide
Dismembered float from side to side,
And reunite again.
'It is the wind,' those skippers said,
'That swings the vessel so;
It is the wind; it freshens fast,
'T is time to say farewell at last
'T is time for us to go.'
They shook the captain by the hand,
'Goodluck! goodluck!' they cried;
Each face was like the setting sun,
As, broad and red, they one by one
Went o'er the vessel's side.
The sun went down, the full moon rose,
Serene o'er field and flood;
And all the winding creeks and bays_
And broad sea-meadows seemed ablaze,
The sky was red as blood.
The southwest wind blew fresh and fair,
As fair as wind could be;
Bound for Odessa, o'er the bar,
With all sail set, the Valdemar
Went proudly out to sea.
The lovely moon climbs up the sky
As one who walks in dreams;
A tower of marble in her light,
A wall of black, a wall of white,
The stately vessel seems.
Low down upon the sandy coast
The lights begin to burn;
And now, uplifted high in air,
They kindle with a fiercer glare,
And now drop far astern.
The dawn appears, the land is gone,
The sea is all around;
Then on each hand low hills of sand
Emerge and form another land;
She steereth through the Sound.
Through Kattegat and Skager-rack
She flitteth like a ghost;
By day and night, by night and day,
She bounds, she flies upon her way
Along the English coast.
Cape Finisterre is drawing near,
Cape Finisterre is past;
Into the open ocean stream
She floats, the vision of a dream
Too beautiful to last.
Suns rise and set, and rise, and yet
There is no land in sight;
The liquid planets overhead
Burn brighter now the moon is dead,
And longer stays the night.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
August Hands
Destiny's child knows his hour
Treasured as Infinity's hand
Child of the wind sweeps eternal
A gypsy's twirl on the land
A brief respite from the minute
As charted by these hands
Retrieved the king and pawn, forgiven
Humbled by Eternity's hand
Each bequeathed a legacy
Time's anchor in the sand
And infinite love imparts
Hope's echo of the man
As is written in the stars
The vessel is bound to land
Mirrored the return of an image
Your ghost plays Destiny's hand.
poem by Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ballad Of The Mad Ladye
The rowan tree grows by the tower foot,
(_Flotsam and jetsam from over the sea,
Can the dead feel joy or pain?_)
And the owls in the ivy blink and hoot,
And the sea-waves bubble around its root,
Where kelp and tangle and sea-shells be,
When the bat in the dark flies silently.
(_Hark to the wind and the rain._)
The ladye sits in the turret alone,
(_Flotsam and jetsam from over the sea,
The dead--can they complain?_)
And her long hair down to her knee has grown,
And her hand is cold as a hand of stone,
And wan as a band of flesh may be,
While the bird in the bower sings merrily.
(_Hark to the wind and the rain._)
Sadly she leans by her casement side
(_Flotsam and jetsam from over the sea,
Can the dead arise again?_)
And watcheth the ebbing and flowing tide,
But her eye is dim, and the sea is wide;
The fisherman's sail and the cloud flies free
And the bird is mute in the rowan tree.
(_Hark to the wind and the rain._)
The moon shone in on the turret stair
(_Flotsam and jetsam from over the sea,
The dead are bound with a chain._)
And touched her cheek and brightened her hair,
And found naught else in the world so fair,
So ghostly fair as the mad ladye,
While the bird in the bower sang lonesomely.
(_Hark to the wind and the rain._)
The weary days and the months crept on,
(_Flotsam and jetsam from over the sea,
The words of the dead are vain_)
At last the summer was over and gone,
And still she sat in her turret alone,
Her white hands clasping about her knee,
And the bird was mute in the rowan tree.
(_Hark to the wind and the rain._)
Wild was the sound of the wind and the sleet,
(_Flotsam and jetsam from over the sea.
The dead--do they walk again?_)
Wilder the roar of the surf that beat;
Whose was the form that it bore to her feet
Swayed with the swell of the unquiet sea,
While the raven croaked in the rowan tree.
(_Hark to the wind and the rain._)
Oh Lady, strange is the silent guest--
(_Flotsam and jetsam cast up by the sea,
Can the dead feel sorrow or pain?_)
With the sea-drenched locks and the pulseless breast
And the close-shut lips which thine have pressed
And the wide sad eyes that heed not thee,
While the raven croaks in the rowan tree.
(_Hark to the wind and the rain._)
The tower is dark, and the doors are wide,
(_Flotsam and jetsam cast up by the sea,
The dead are at peace again._)
Into the harbour the fisher boats ride,
But two went out with the ebbing tide,
Without sail, without oar, full fast and free,
And the raven croaks in the rowan tree.
(_Hark to the wind and the rain._)
poem by Kate Seymour Maclean
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Song - Sea of Sand
You sent me to the moon
Across a silent sea of sand
I was reaching for your hand
But you were standing on a hill
You launched me to the moon
Across the wind between the stars
I was reaching through the sand
But I was fading out of view
I was just a photograph
An old fading black and white
Taken by a passer-by
When the sun was out of sight
You sent me to the moon
I caught the desolation bus
There was no-one there but us
I saw your shadow on the sand
You sent me to the moon
Down every road we’ve ever walked
Every place we strayed or talked
When we were higher than the wind
I went searching all the stars
Between the avenues and bars
You were everywhere I went
In a different universe
You sent me to the moon
Across the frozen wastes of old
Where the howling wind blew cold
Where I lost you in the snow
You sent me to the moon
Although I didn’t want to know
But I built myself a home
Between the rainbow and the stones
I was frozen to the bone
In the icy wind of truth
I was free and on my own
In my castle on the moon
You sent me to the moon
Across a silent sea of sand
I was reaching for your hand
But you were standing on a hill
(Thanks to Tailor Bell for 'higher than the wind')
Moon Glow
The darkest night, flows with a
wind hush through open blackness.
Ya'ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
Rivulets spill with water
across the mountain plains;
as liquid rolls down along the steep slope-
ya'ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
Stars glitter through sparkles
of the darkest night.
Wind cold breeze swifts;
swiftly into space.
Laughter engulfs the moon light.
Ya' ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
Moon light angles corners,
as sweet melodies swell into air,
of silence.
You ever sight the bird dance,
as shadow flicker
upon the moon?
Ya' ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
poem by Celine Berghmans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Last Time
If you want it
Dont look at my face
Its the last time
Its not forever
The dust in the wind
Its the last time
One world, one dream
The stars in your hand
No light, no life
The scars are made by man
Heaven cant help you now
In this madness
Take it while you can
Its the last time
This holy water
Running away
For the last time
One world, one dream
The stars in your hand
No light, no life
So heal the scars of man
One chance, this night
To shine on this land
This time, with pride
Give back now while you can
All these fields, that once were green
Have turned to smoke and steel
The sun will fall, and the last moon rise
Dont turn this tide away
If you want it
So start it again
Its the last time
(the scars were made by man)
Its not forever
The dust is the wind
For the last time
One world, one dream
The stars in your hand
No light, no life
So heal the scars of man
One chance, this night
To shine on this land
This time, with pride
Give back now while you can
Music & lyrics by: geoff downes & john payne
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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By The Seaside : Sir Humphrey Gilbert
Southward with fleet of ice
Sailed the corsair Death;
Wild and gast blew the blast,
And the east-wind was his breath.
His lordly ships of ice
Glisten in the sun;
On each side, like pennons wide,
Flashing crystal streamlets run.
His sails of white sea-mist
Dripped with silver rain;
But where he passed there were cast
Leaden shadows o'er the main.
Eastward from Campobello
Sir Humphrey Gilbert sailed;
Three days or more seaward he bore,
Then, alas! the land-wind failed.
Alas! the land-wind failed,
And ice-cold grew the night;
And nevermore, on sea or shore,
Should Sir Humphrey see the light.
He sat upon the deck,
The Book was in his hand;
'Do not fear! Heaven is as near,'
He said, 'by water as by land!'
In the first watch of the night,
Without a signal's sound,
Out of the sea, mysteriously,
The fleet of Death rose all around.
The moon and the evening star
Were hanging in the shrouds;
Every mast, as it passed,
Seemed to rake the passing clouds.
They grappled with their prize,
At midnight black and cold!
As of a rock was the shock;
Heavily the ground-swell rolled.
Southward through day and dark,
They drift in cold embrace,
With mist and rain, o'er the open main;
Yet there seems no change of place.
Southward, forever southward,
They drift through dark and day;
And like a dream, in the Gulf-Stream
Sinking, vanish all away.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dover Beach
The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits;—on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanch'd land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægæan, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
poem by Matthew Arnold (1867)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Avalanche-the White Death
The land is white
The name of the land brings you
to the land of nothing
The name is white
The white is dead
Sun shines pale, the land shades full of pain
Avalea doesn't bloom and fall in this drain
I'm going back alive again
But no one's crying for the dead
The land is still white
Ice and snow are still the same as yesterday
But the wind is stronger in the sorrow
The land is white
The white is dead
They weep wherever they blow
Forever love, cursed land
Forever goodbye, my lovely land
No more tears falling in this land
Even the sand doesn't know
why he doesn't round to anywhere
The land has frozen like stone
The air is blowed dead
The land is white
The name is white
The land called white is dead
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Full Moon
As I walked out one harvest night
About the stroke of One,
The Moon attained to her full height
Stood beaming like the Sun.
She exorcised the ghostly wheat
To mute assent in Love's defeat
Whose tryst had now begun.
The fields lay sick beneath my tread,
A tedious owlet cried;
The nightingale above my head
With this or that replied,
Like man and wife who nightly keep
Inconsequent debate in sleep
As they dream side by side.
Your phantom wore the moon's cold mask,
My phantom wore the same,
Forgetful of the feverish task
In hope of which they came,
Each image held the other's eyes
And watched a grey distraction rise
To cloud the eager flame.
To cloud the eager flame of love,
To fog the shining gate:
They held the tyrannous queen above
Sole mover of their fate,
They glared as marble statues glare
Across the tessellated stair
Or down the Halls of State.
And now cold earth was Arctic sea,
Each breath came dagger keen,
Two bergs of glinting ice were we,
The broad moon sailed between;
There swam the mermaids, tailed and finned,
And Love went by upon the wind
As though it had not been.
poem by Robert Graves
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Musician's Tale; The Ballad of Carmilhan - I.
At Stralsund, by the Baltic Sea,
Within the sandy bar,
At sunset of a summer's day,
Ready for sea, at anchor lay
The good ship Valdemar.
The sunbeams danced upon the waves,
And played along her side;
And through the cabin windows streamed
In ripples of golden light, that seemed
The ripple of the tide.
There sat the captain with his friends,
Old skippers brown and hale,
Who smoked and grumbled o'er their grog,
And talked of iceberg and of fog,
Of calm and storm and gale.
And one was spinning a sailor's yarn
About Klaboterman,
The Kobold of the sea; a spright
Invisible to mortal sight,
Who o'er the rigging ran.
Sometimes he hammered in the hold,
Sometimes upon the mast,
Sometimes abeam, sometimes abaft,
Or at the bows he sang and laughed,
And made all tight and fast.
He helped the sailors at their work,
And toiled with jovial din;
He helped them hoist and reef the sails,
He helped them stow the casks and bales,
And heave the anchor in.
But woe unto the lazy louts,
The idlers of the crew;
Them to torment was his delight,
And worry them by day and night,
And pinch them black and blue.
And woe to him whose mortal eyes
Klaboterman behold.
It is a certain sign of death!?
The cabin-boy here held his breath,
He felt his blood run cold.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sir Humphrey Gilbert
Southward with fleet of ice
Sailed the corsair Death;
Wild and gast blew the blast,
And the east-wind was his breath.
His lordly ships of ice
Glisten in the sun;
On each side, like pennons wide,
Flashing crystal streamlets run.
His sails of white sea-mist
Dripped with silver rain;
But where he passed there were cast
Leaden shadows o'er the main.
Eastward from Campobello
Sir Humphrey Gilbert sailed;
Three days or more seaward he bore,
Then, alas! the land-wind failed.
Alas! the land-wind failed,
And ice-cold grew the night;
And nevermore, on sea or shore,
Should Sir Humphrey see the light.
He sat upon the deck,
The Book was in his hand;
"Do not fear! Heaven is as near,"
He said, "by water as by land!"
In the first watch of the night,
Without a signal's sound,
Out of the sea, mysteriously,
The fleet of Death rose all around.
The moon and the evening star
Were hanging in the shrouds;
Every mast, as it passed,
Seemed to rake the passing clouds.
They grappled with their prize,
At midnight black and cold!
As of a rock was the shock;
Heavily the ground-swell rolled.
Southward through day and dark,
They drift in cold embrace,
With mist and rain, o'er the open main;
Yet there seems no change of place.
Southward, forever southward,
They drift through dark and day;
And like a dream, in the Gulf-Stream
Sinking, vanish all away.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All Souls
I
A THIN moon faints in the sky o'erhead,
And dumb in the churchyard lie the dead.
Walk we not, Sweet, by garden ways,
Where the late rose hangs and the phlox delays,
But forth of the gate and down the road,
Past the church and the yews, to their dim abode.
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
II
Fear not that sound like wind in the trees:
It is only their call that comes on the breeze;
Fear not the shudder that seems to pass:
It is only the tread of their feet on the grass;
Fear not the drip of the bough as you stoop:
It is only the touch of their hands that grope -
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can yearn and the dead can smite.
III
And where should a man bring his sweet to woo
But here, where such hundreds were lovers too?
Where lie the dead lips that thirst to kiss,
The empty hands that their fellows miss,
Where the maid and her lover, from sere to green,
Sleep bed by bed, with the worm between?
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
IV
And now that they rise and walk in the cold,
Let us warm their blood and give youth to the old.
Let them see us and hear us, and say: 'Ah, thus
In the prime of the year it went with us!'
Till their lips drawn close, and so long unkist,
Forget they are mist that mingles with mist!
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can burn and the dead can smite.
V
Till they say, as they hear us - poor dead, poor dead! -
'Just an hour of this, and our age-long bed -
Just a thrill of the old remembered pains
To kindle a flame in our frozen veins,
Just a touch, and a sight, and a floating apart,
As the chill of dawn strikes each phantom heart -
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear, and the dead have sight.'
VI
And where should the living feel alive
But here in this wan white humming hive,
As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold,
And one by one they creep back to the fold?
And where should a man hold his mate and say:
'One more, one more, ere we go their way'?
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the living can learn by the churchyard light.
VII
And how should we break faith who have seen
Those dead lips plight with the mist between,
And how forget, who have seen how soon
They lie thus chambered and cold to the moon?
How scorn, how hate, how strive, we too,
Who must do so soon as those others do?
For it's All Souls' night, and break of the day,
And behold, with the light the dead are away. . . .
poem by Edith Wharton
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Dover Beach
The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
poem by Matthew Arnold
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Riding Together
For many, many days together
The wind blew steady from the East;
For many days hot grew the weather,
About the time of our Lady's Feast.
For many days we rode together,
Yet met we neither friend nor foe;
Hotter and clearer grew the weather,
Steadily did the East wind blow.
We saw the trees in the hot, bright weather,
Clear-cut, with shadows very black,
As freely we rode on together
With helms unlaced and bridles slack.
And often, as we rode together,
We, looking down the green-bank'd stream,
Saw flowers in the sunny weather,
And saw the bubble-making bream.
And in the night lay down together,
And hung above our heads the rood,
Or watch'd night-long in the dewy weather,
The while the moon did watch the wood.
Our spears stood bright and thick together,
Straight out the banners stream'd behind,
As we gallop'd on in the sunny weather,
With faces turn'd towards the wind.
Down sank our threescore spears together,
As thick we saw the pagans ride;
His eager face in the clear fresh weather,
Shone out that last time by my side.
Up the sweep of the bridge we dash'd together,
It rock'd to the crash of the meeting spears,
Down rain'd the buds of the dear spring weather,
The elm-tree flowers fell like tears.
There, as we roll'd and writhed together,
I threw my arms above my head,
For close by my side, in the lovely weather,
I saw him reel and fall back dead.
I and the slayer met together,
He waited the death-stroke there in his place,
With thoughts of death, in the lovely weather,
Gapingly mazed at my madden'd face.
Madly I fought as we fought together;
In vain: the little Christian band
The pagans drown'd, as in stormy weather
The river drowns low-lying land.
They bound my blood-stain'd hands together,
They bound his corpse to nod by my side:
Then on we rode, in the bright March weather,
With clash of cymbals did we ride.
We ride no more, no more together;
My prison-bars are thick and strong,
I take no heed of any weather,
The sweet Saints grant I live not long.
poem by William Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tombstone
The night is dark, the moon is full
Across the blood red plain
Every step and every breath
Brings me nearer home
The spirits watch me on my way
They whisper on the wind
And when the dawn lights up the sky
I'll see my land again
A hot wind blows the scrub and dust
across the barren land
Trees stand bare like skeletons
The mountains all torn down
The water holes are dry as bones
No birds are singing now
And faraway a city stands
Tombstones against the sky
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tombestone
The night is dark, the moon is full
Across the blood red plain
Every step and every breath
Brings me nearer home
The spirits watch me on my way
They whisper on the wind
And when the dawn lights up the sky
Ill see my land again
A hot wind blows the scrub and dust
Across the barren land
Trees stand bare like skeletons
The mountains all torn down
The water holes are dry as bones
No birds are singing now
And faraway a city stands
Tombstones against the sky
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sailing
Maybe tomorrow with the wind on my side
I will sail across the ocean
To the island of white, the sea is pink
Only one star in sight
Thats where Ill be going
Because Im searching for the light
There goes my mind again
It just cant stop its wondering around
Cause it wants to know everything that is going on
Sailing across the ocean
Sailing across the sea of time
Could be Id find promotion
Maybe I can be what my teacher was to me
He was a man giving the truth to me
Let me see for myself whats going on
Maybe soon I will see the great horizon
The velvet sails of my ship in the night
Give away the colors of the faces delight
Land ho was the cry of the day
As I turned to face the captain
When I heard a voice say
There goes my mind again
It just cant stop this wondering around
Cause he wants to know everything thats going on
Sailing across the ocean
Sailing across the sea of time
Sailing across the ocean
Sailing across the sea of time
Sailing across the ocean
Sailing across the sea of time
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sometimes Wind Moves In Secret
Sometimes wind moves in secret
Like a lover or a moon
Sometimes a board will answer
Or a shutter or a loon
Sometimes wind answers itself
Like a woman at the mirror
And sometimes no one's present
Or unwilling to hear
Wind moans over graveyards
As if weeping for the dead
Wind howls at the windows
Like it wants you, in your bed
Wind steals kites of children
Without making any sound
And wind tears off your head scarf
But lifts hair, like a crown
Wind sighs round a lighthouse
Like a sailor blown off course
Wind whispers in the rigging
Like a breeze has lost its voice
Wind dies in the harbor
When the moon is sailing high
But wind sings before morning
When the twilight blush is nigh
poem by Patti Masterman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Warakurna
There is enough for everyone
In redfern as there is in alice
This is not the buckingham palace
This the crown land
This is the brown land
This is not our land
Some folks live in water tanks
Some folks live in red brick flats
There is enough, the law is carved in granite
Its been shaped by wind and rain
White law could be wrong
Black law could be strong
Warakurna, cars will roll
Dont drink by the water hole
Court fines on the shopfront wall
Beat the grog and save your soul
Some people laugh, some never learn
This land must change or land must burn
Some people sleep, some people yearn
This land must change or land must burn
Diesel and dust is what we breathe
This land dont change and we dont leave
Some people live, some never die
This land dont change this land must lie
Some people leave, always return
This land must change or land must burn
Warakurna, camels roam
Fires are warm and dogs are cold
Not since lassiter was here
Black mans got a lot to fear
Some people laugh, some never learn
This land must change or land must burn
Some people leave, always return
This land must change or land must burn
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Been Gone
(carly simon/jacob brackman)
The wind is coming up strong and fast
And the moon is smiling on me
Miles from nowhere so small at last
In between the sky and the sea
Im bound for the island
The tide is with me
I think I can make it before dawn
Its night on the ocean
Im going home
And it feels like Ive never
Ive never been gone
Seagulls cry and the hills are green
And my friends are waiting for me
Freat ambition is all a dream
Let me drown my pride in the sea -
Im bound for the ocean
The tide is with me
I think I can make it by dawn
Its night on the ocean
Im going home
And it feels like Ive never
Ive never been gone
Oh it feels like Ive never
Ive never been gone
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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