En.Citatepedia^®.ro

For I Must Sing of All I Feel and Know

For I must sing of all I feel and know,
Waiting with Memnon passive near the palms,
Until the heavenly light doth dawn and grow
And thrill my silence into mystic psalms;
From unknown realms the wind streams sad or gay,
The trees give voice responsive to its sway.

For I must sing: of mountains, deserts, seas,
Of rivers ever flowing, ever flowing;
Of beasts and birds, of grass and flowers and trees
Forever fading and forever growing;
Of calm and storm, of night and eve and noon,
Of boundless space, and sun and stars and moon;

And of the secret sympathies that bind
All beings to their wondrous dwelling-place;
And of the perfect Unity enshrined
In omnipresence throughout time and space,
Alike informing with its full control
The dust, the stars, the worm, the human soul;

And most supremely of my human kin --
Their thoughts and deeds, their valors and their fears,
Their griefs and joys, their virtue and their sin,
Their feasts and wars, their cradles and their biers,
Their temples, prisons, homes and ships and marts,
The subtlest windings of their brains and hearts.

So rich and sweet is Life. And what is Death? --
The tranquil slumbers dear and strange and boon
That feed at whiles our waking being's breath;
The solemn midnight of this glorious noon,
With countless distant stars, and each a sun,
Revealed harmonious with our daily one.

poem by James Thomson
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Love Is Devout

The daily fight.
The human souls ignite.
The fire burns in the twilight.
Stars so bright.
God please, give me your might.
Your strength. I promise I'll wait.
Does my heart have what it takes.
The true divine.
Drinking some red wine.
Celebrate life, celebrate death.
Celebrate this worlds mess.
Only confess when you truly need forgiveness.

The daily fight.
The human soul ignite.
The fire burns in the twilight.
Stars so bright.
God please give me your might.
Patients, sir I salute you for having such courage.
On the brink.
Can you feel the energy surge.
Splurge, control yourself,
and you want the most for
it could make you into a forever haunting ghost.
So carefully tip toe.
Cause eggshells are just below your feet.
And you could slip as you run you know.
Waiting can be constant agony.
Its driving me right into the clouds.
Come hell or high water
I shall be devout.
You are forever mine even as time passes by.
I don't care how or why.
There will be no compromise.
Love lasts even after you die.

The daily fight.
The human soul ignites.
The fire burns in the twilight.
Stars so bright.
Oh oh tonight god please give me your might.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Just Look Up at the Night

...No you'll never be alone.
When darkness comes I’ll light the night with stars,
O fair lady gaze at my stars and they will sing for you their secret lullaby
Look at the stars and how they shine for you and everything that you do,
Though I will stand away from my stars and sing you yet another song of peace
Till u fall into your heavenly sleep
It will be strange and drawn out,
Not high and not low,
But I sing it not only with confidence,
But hoping you will like it too
I sing the words I love you....

poem by David Knox
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LAST NIGHT with The StARS

lAST nIGht
i Was tOO streSSED
I Feel lIKE AN idIOT amIDST
THe three Magis
i Opened The TV anD
Turned IT oFF
I looKED foR SilENCE
wENT UPstairs
sAT On the Floor Looked UP
TO tHE opEN Sky
and SEE THE Stars so Many maNY Stars stars
in the NIGHT sky
the MOON was not There
and She WAS not There TOO
But the THOUGHTS of stars and more stars
glistening IDEAS and eMBRACING
tHE openness of Space
They ARE enough to OPEN MY Heart and
Sing and then
I Was SILENCED
I HAD peace.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Think...........

broken bottles, broken glass,
everywhere scattered on the grass.
once it was spiky and green,
wind was blowing,
moving grass in the stream can be clearly seen.
upon the mountain through the trees,
blows a sweet, soft breeze.
think what will happen if trees be tear,
there will be no loin, no tiger no any bear.
no place for birds to make a nest
where could running deer be take a rest.
no place for hiding nuts,
squirrels are homeless,
sparrow finding space in the huts.
see clouds seem as teddy bears,
see rabbits, peacocks roaming without fears.
watch and catch the stars at night,
stars will not be as bright.
with in few or someday,
everything not be in same way.
blue water, floating high waves,
no dolphin, no star fish to be gaze, ,
in human there is wealthy race,
time will come we won't have even a single standing place.
it is time to awareness be raised,
for saving environment plan must be traced..........

poem by Jais Mani
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Outside My Picture Window

It has been said that there is a world outside my picture window and
Beyond the trees I see everyday and the sky, sometimes overcast and
Other days, when the sun rises early- I can see the sky and have often wondered if
There exists another world within our universe- I know that
There exists a world inside of my mind and
My pupils are the windows into which
People would look if I were to venture outward?
Beyond the sky, and beyond the sun-
Beyond that world inside my mind,
I would never know where there exists a place for me-
Last night outside of my window
I could see the stars- stars mean different things to different people as
Does the sun, the trees and this whole world outside-
The world inside my mind revolves about
The sun that shines upon my own horizon and
As for this world outside, all I can do is look- and to
See a tree, perhaps a single cloud and the grass that grows-
I have shut my mind to the people who live beyond
The trees, clouds and the grass that I can see-
That window opens to the world inside of my thoughts-
I have just shut and pulled the curtain to discourage all intruders-
I am lying by my window in total darkness now as I place my hand over my eyes,
Shutting out reality and now I can see mountains, flowering trees and
A creek flowing in which I can see my reflection and
I am running upon the grass that grows beneath my feet-
I believe I heard music playing inside the fortress of my mind-
It has been said there is a world outside and I have pulled the curtain
To the window once opened to veracity-
Darkness has never looked as beautiful as I am safe here in my solitude-
Even when the stars are shining and the sky is such a magnificent sight to see-
No place is as exquisite as the creek that runs through my inner space and
The sun inside the world of my thoughts that shines upon my horizon?
The stars are far away and all that is real, though just outside my picture window
I perceive as too far away for me to reach- I would touch the stars and I could be a dove
That can lift my wings and fly away from all that threatens, but only inside my dreams-
Children sing songs and read fairy tales and they believe and I believe that
The sun shines light upon their worlds and
Someday their dreams shall blossom as has mine and shall become their homes-
Home is the safe place inside a person's mind, not within the madding crowd that
Exists outside my picture window- even if the stars are always there- and
That unique and special sun shall just keep on shining upon the world of my dreams….

poem by Claudia Krizay
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Mystic Earth

Mystic earth restores the sacred traveller
Mountains where wolves play with sojourners
Seeds deep with wisdom grow their life

Humble villages where trees laugh
Festive mushrooms, leaves of healing
Shamans of the ancient forest

Evil men know nothing of timeless medicine
Fruit from Eden replenishes pilgrims
The meek know the garden is a door way

Tonight crickets sing, pines listen with joy
Cedars are like great owls of time
Rivers flow with sweet peace

Your never alone, they are wondrous friends
Elves are not fairy tales, wake up!
Clover grows to magnify the green spirit

Fire flies play like shooting stars
Drink from a waterfall of wood gnomes
The cry of the loon haunts a magic night

Summer flowers sing such fine melodies
Hear the wind bring the voice of comfort
Rain on the daffodils blesses the oaks

Moonlight on yellow geraniums gather love
Rainbow fall will soon dance for the great King
All are invited to the harvest of beauty

She wears jewelry made of dappled sun light
Golden waves like the sea flowing in the universe
Opal, Topaz, diamonds forged from tribal ghosts

Beryl and onyx sigh with queens of ancient bliss
Eagle feathers lift the spirit into turquoise blue
Open the gates of the gifted Sequoias, giants

Dawn is a meeting of many noble angels
Look at Jupiter serenade the lovers moon
Stars smile for the hearts of searchers

The earth is a grand mystic friend

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Predicament

when the poet shall silence his voice and thought
And the flowers never bloom again...
When the mountains shall shake of pains,
And the Sun goes up melancholic
To warm the birds that shall not sing anymore...
When the beautiful spring
Shall turn into a crude winter...

When the night shall seem much longer,
And the sea shall become quieter
At any given time....
When the wind jealously
Shall set itself apart to let the nostalgic trees
Strip their leaves as a symbol
Of rebelliousness...
When there shall not be a fragile smile
Pasted on a child's face,
And One's heart shall not beat like a drum anymore..
When there shall not be a radiant moon
Inspiring all the lovers of the world....
And the stars shall shine very dim
As a sign of sadness....
Then, man shall learn to be faithful to God and himself,
And walk freely through a path of peace and dignity...
Then, he shall again be proud of himself
And proud also of his fellow human beings...
To whom he shall give flowers
Instead of thorns...

COPY WRITE©2009

poem by Romeo Della Valle
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In May

Yes, I will spend the livelong day
With Nature in this month of May;
And sit beneath the trees, and share
My bread with birds whose homes are there;
While cows lie down to eat, and sheep
Stand to their necks in grass so deep;
While birds do sing with all their might,
As though they felt the earth in flight.
This is the hour I dreamed of, when
I sat surrounded by poor men;
And thought of how the Arab sat
Alone at evening, gazing at
The stars that bubbled in clear skies;

And of young dreamers, when their eyes
Enjoyed methought a precious boon
In the adventures of the Moon
Whose light, behind the Clouds' dark bars,
Searched for her stolen flocks of stars.
When I, hemmed in by wrecks of men,
Thought of some lonely cottage then
Full of sweet books; and miles of sea,
With passing ships, in front of me;
And having, on the other hand,
A flowery, green, bird-singing land.

poem by William Henry Davies
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Compensation

In that new world toward which our feet are set,
Shall we find aught to make our hearts forget
Earth's homely joys and her bright hours of bliss?
Has heaven a spell divine enough for this?
For who the pleasure of the spring shall tell
When on the leafless stalk the brown buds swell,
When the grass brightens and the days grow long,
And little birds break out in rippling song?

O sweet the dropping eve, the blush of morn,
The starlit sky, the rustling fields of corn,
The soft airs blowing from the freshening seas,
The sunflecked shadow of the stately trees,
The mellow thunder and the lulling rain,
The warm, delicious, happy summer rain,
When the grass brightens and the days grow long,
And little birds break out in rippling song!

O beauty manifold, from morn till night,
Dawn's flush, noon's blaze and sunset's tender light!
O fair, familiar features, changes sweet
Of her revolving seasons, storm and sleet
And golden calm, as slow she wheels through space,
From snow to roses, - and how dear her face,
When the grass brightens, when the days grow long,
And little birds break out in rippling song!

O happy earth! O home so well beloved!
What recompense have we, from thee removed?
One hope we have that overtops the whole, -
The hope of finding every vanished soul,
We love and long for daily, and for this
Gladly we turn from thee, and all thy bliss,
Even at thy loveliest, when the days are long,
And little birds break out in rippling song.

poem by Celia Thaxter
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The Nightingale

WHEN the moon a golden-pale
Lustre on my casement flings,
An enchanted nightingale
In the haunted silence sings.

Strange the song—its wondrous words
Taken from the primal tongue,
Known to men, and beasts, and birds,
When the care-worn world was young

Listening low, I hear the stars
Through her strains move solemnly,
And on lonesome banks and bars
Hear the sobbing of the sea.

And my memory dimly gropes
Hints to gather from her song
Of forgotten fears and hopes,
Joys and griefs forgotten long.

And I feel once more the strife
Of a passion, fierce and grand,
That, in some long-vanished life,
Held my soul at its command.

Ah, my Love, in robes of white
Standing by a moonlit sea,
Like a lily of the night,
Hast thou quite forgotten me?

Dost thou never dream at whiles
Of that silent, templed vale,
And the dim wood in whose aisles
Sang a secret nightingale?

Whither hast thou gone? What star
Holds thy spirit pure and fine?
In this world below there are
None like thee: and thou wert mine!

For a season all things last,
Love and Joy, and Life and Death;
Thou art portion of my past,
I of thine, whilst Time draws breath.

Fades the moonlight golden-pale,
And the bird has ceased to sing—
Ah, it was no nightingale,
But my heart—remembering.

poem by Victor James Daley
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A Christmas Hymn

IT was the calm and silent night!
Seven hundred years and fifty-three
Had Rome been growing up to might,
And now was Queen of land and sea.
No sound was heard of clashing wars;
Peace brooded o’er the hush’d domain;
Apollo, Pallas, Jove and Mars,
Held undisturb’d their ancient reign,
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago.

’T was in the calm and silent night!
The senator of haughty Rome
Impatient urged his chariot’s flight,
From lordly revel rolling home.
Triumphal arches gleaming swell
His breast with thoughts of boundless sway;
What reck’d the Roman what befell
A paltry province far away,
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago!

Within that province far away
Went plodding home a weary boor:
A streak of light before him lay,
Fall’n through a half-shut stable door
Across his path. He pass’d—for nought
Told what was going on within;
How keen the stars! his only thought;
The air how calm and cold and thin,
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago!

O strange indifference!—low and high
Drows’d over common joys and cares:
The earth was still—but knew not why;
The world was listening—unawares.
How calm a moment may precede
One that shall thrill the world for ever!
To that still moment none would heed,
Man’s doom was link’d, no more to sever,
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago.

It is the calm and solemn night!
A thousand bells ring out, and throw
Their joyous peals abroad, and smite
The darkness, charm’d and holy now.
The night that erst no name had worn,
To it a happy name is given;
For in that stable lay new-born
The peaceful Prince of Earth and Heaven,
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago.

poem by Alfred Domett
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Change

Change
Said the sun to the moon,
You cannot stay.

Change
Says the moon to the waters,
All is flowing.

Change
Says the fields to the grass,
Seed-time and harvest,
Chaff and grain.

You must change said,
Said the worm to the bud,
Though not to a rose,

Petals fade
That wings may rise
Borne on the wind.

You are changing
said death to the maiden, your wan face
To memory, to beauty.

Are you ready to change?
Says the thought to the heart, to let her pass
All your life long

For the unknown, the unborn
In the alchemy
Of the world's dream?

You will change,
says the stars to the sun,
Says the night to the stars.

poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
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Dreams

Who first said "false as dreams?" Not one who saw
Into the wild and wondrous world they sway;
No thinker who hath read their mystic law;
No Poet who hath weaved them in his lay.

Else had he known that through the human breast
Cross and recross a thousand fleeting gleams,
That, passed unnoticed in the day's unrest,
Come out at night, like stars, in shining dreams;

That minds too busy or to dull to mark
The dim suggestions of the noisier hours,
By dreams in the deep silence of the dark,
Are roused at midnight with their folded powers.

Like that old fount beneath Dodona's oaks,
That, dry and voiceless in the garish noon,
When the calm night arose with modest looks,
Caught with full wave the sparkle of the moon.

If, now and then, a ghastly shape glide in,
And fright us with its horrid gloom or glee,
It is the ghost of some forgotten sin
We failed to exorcise on bended knee.

And that sweet face which only yesternight
Came to thy solace, dreamer (did'st thou read
The blessing in its eyes of tearful light?)
Was but the spirit of some gentle deed.

Each has its lesson; for our dreams in sooth,
Come they in shape of demons, gods, or elves,
Are allegories with deep hearts of truth
That tell us solemn secrets of ourselves.

poem by Henry Timrod
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Woman of God

Deep in the crevices we touch life
Down and down into a sea of gold
Woven in stars from grand eons
We are a dream from the throne

Music plays from mystic trees
Fruit bright with living light
Saturn shines like a lovers caress
Rivers sigh with whispering night

She is a well from a deep river
Streams of peace flow from above
Thirsty hearts drink pure water
Lilies of the field tenderly love

Visions blend with daily eternity
Joy radiates with a pure blue glow
Unity the treasure of redemption
Past the past we struggle and grow

Touch the very hem of beauty
She brings the kiss of temporal time
Price above rubies, virtue and warmth
Light a fire with the torch of moonlight

Groaning deep in agony of soul
Temporary love becomes worldly lust
A kingdom not made by hands of man
Do you reach for love past this dust?

This mortal coil is filled with despair
Thorns and thistle on a bed of time
Hope must be in the permanent realm
Dying flowers lose their summer light

I seek essence in your sky above
Paths born in the eternal spring
Touch me with life that never ends
Let me hear the bright angels sing

A Woman of God shines for evermore

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Psalm 148

Let the heavens cry out
Let the earth give a shout
Let all the Peoples of the earth not doubt
Our glorious King forever

Let the heavenly angels praise
To our King may every hand raise
May we worship Him all of our days
Our glorious King forever

Praise Him you sun so bright
Praise Him you moon through the night
All of His enemies take flight
From our glorious King forever

Praise Him you creatures of the sea
Praise Him that you swim so free
May our praises eternally be
Of our glorious King forever

Mountains and hills fall down
Stars in the sky make a glorious sound
All ye saints cast down your crowns
Before our glorious King forever

We will praise Him for His marvelous grace
We praise Him for His warm embrace
We praise Him in the holy place
Our glorious King forever

We exalt the King of Kings
Heavenly choirs of angels sings
Of the freedom that our Christ brings
Our glorious King forever

All our praise He does deserve
Let His glory cover all the earth
We shall bow down and worship and serve
Our glorious King forever

poem by Frank McEleny
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Christmas Hymn

O CHRIST, born on the holy day,
I have no gift to give my King;
No flowers grow by my weary way;
I have no birthday song to sing.

How can I sing Thy name and praise,
Who never saw Thy face divine;
Who walk in darkness all my days,
And see no Eastern stars a-shine?

Yet, when their Christmas gifts they bring,
How can I leave Thy praise unsung?
How stay from homage to the King,
And hold a silent, grudging tongue?

Lord, I found many a song to sing,
And many a humble hymn of praise
For Thy great Miracle of Spring,
The wonder of the waxing days.

When I beheld Thy days and years,
Did I not sing Thy pleasant earth?
The moons of love, the years of tears,
The mysteries of death and birth?

Have I not sung with all my soul
While soul and song were mine to yield,
Thy lightning crown, Thy cloud-control,
The dewy clover of Thy field?

Have I not loved Thy birds and beasts,
Thy streams and woods, Thy sun and shade;
Have I not made me holy feasts
Of all the beauty Thou hast made?

What though my tear-tired eyes, alas!
Won never grace Thy face to see?
I heard Thy footstep on the grass,
Thy voice in every wind-blown tree.

No music now I make or win,
Yet, Lord, remember I have been
The lover of Thy world, wherein
I found nought common or unclean.

Grown old and blind, I sing no more,
Thy saints in heaven sing sweet and strong,
Yet take the songs I made of yore
For echoes to Thy birthday song.

poem by Edith Nesbit
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Joy

I am wild, I will sing to the trees,
I will sing to the stars in the sky,
I love, I am loved, he is mine,
Now at last I can die!

I am sandaled with wind and with flame,
I have heart-fire and singing to give,
I can tread on the grass or the stars,
Now at last I can live!

poem by Sara Teasdale
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Don't be a tree!

Not a planted tree to stay at a place,
Spreading the roots in underground space,
Looking for the sun to beg for the light,
Photosynthesis, reproduce and rot.

When the wind blows, to shake our heads,
We are not the trees that have no leads,
During the storm, to get uprooted and fall,
We are the trees that are too rigid, not flexible.

For the fallen leaves, the trees never cry,
For the fallen human, we have to voice and try,
We are the human, the rulers of the earth,
Not the trees of the soil that has no mirth.

Let us not lick the feet of anyone for our survival,
Let us not get tickled with someone's failure,
Let us not be the fools to get hoodwinked and cheated,
Let us be the survivors conquering the thoughts.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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History and Nature As One

one day
one hour
one minute
every passing of time holds a part of history
and this history holds a meaning for all
for the stars in the sky never cry
and the moon never weeps
and the rivers and oceans converge as one
like the grass and the trees, we coexist
we see nature as separate of history
but they are one like the birds and the sky
and this history tells of what happens
when those hearts that do break, just die
and even though the stars and moon share no tears
they may be sorrowful in the night
and I cry by this dying light

poem by Nicole Henson
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At The Last.

The sky grows white with the moon,
And the sea yearns up to the night
As the soul to an unknown height,
Drawn thence by a starry rune.
Only a lost wind strays,
Like the breath of Passion blown
In the vault of the night unknown;
And the heart in me sobs and says:
'After a while we, too,
Shall rest as the stars above,
When we have no more to do
With the dream of life and love.'
O Time! thy feet that run
Over the hills and waves,
Over the cradles and graves,
From the first to the final sun!
Some day thou too shalt cease —
Some way there'll come to thee
Death's white tranquility,
The boon of an awful peace —
When the latest grief shall flow
With the surge that drifts away,
And the Night shall no more go
In her endless chase of Day.
Then shall the worn heart rest,
Then shall the sad Sea yearn
No more for the Moon's return,
Like a bird on its frozen nest
Dead, with her young ones dead
Under her breast on the bough,
Where nothing can wake them now —
Not the Dawn with its golden tread:
Where Death has been good to all,
Good to the mother and young,
And the dreams are beyond recall,
And the songs have all been sung.
So, at the last, to sleep!
So, at the last, to be
Still as the dead still sea!
Never to wake and weep,
Never to know Love's pain,
Never to yearn on for
What is gone for evermore;
To be as we were again
Ere we came o'er the bourne of birth,
Ere we knew of the fading flowers,
Of love and of life on Earth
And the hearts that were not ours!

poem by Robert Crawford
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