Liberty
New Castle, July 4, 1878
or a hundred years the pulse of time
Has throbbed for Liberty;
For a hundred years the grand old clime
Columbia has been free;
For a hundred years our country's love,
The Stars and Stripes, has waved above.
Away far out on the gulf of years--
Misty and faint and white
Through the fogs of wrong--a sail appears,
And the Mayflower heaves in sight,
And drifts again, with its little flock
Of a hundred souls, on Plymouth Rock.
Do you see them there--as long, long since--
Through the lens of History;
Do you see them there as their chieftain prints
In the snow his bended knee,
And lifts his voice through the wintry blast
In thanks for a peaceful home at last?
Though the skies are dark and the coast is bleak,
And the storm is wild and fierce,
Its frozen flake on the upturned cheek
Of the Pilgrim melts in tears,
And the dawn that springs from the darkness there
Is the morning light of an answered prayer.
The morning light of the day of Peace
That gladdens the aching eyes,
And gives to the soul that sweet release
That the present verifies,--
Nor a snow so deep, nor a wind so chill
To quench the flame of a freeman's will!
II
Days of toil when the bleeding hand
Of the pioneer grew numb,
When the untilled tracts of the barren land
Where the weary ones had come
Could offer nought from a fruitful soil
To stay the strength of the stranger's toil.
Days of pain, when the heart beat low,
And the empty hours went by
Pitiless, with the wail of woe
And the moan of Hunger's cry--
When the trembling hands upraised in prayer
Had only the strength to hold them there.
Days when the voice of hope had fled--
Days when the eyes grown weak
Were folded to, and the tears they shed
Were frost on a frozen cheek--
When the storm bent down from the skies and gave
A shroud of snow for the Pilgrim's grave.
Days at last when the smiling sun
Glanced down from a summer sky,
And a music rang where the rivers run,
And the waves went laughing by;
And the rose peeped over the mossy bank
While the wild deer stood in the stream and drank.
And the birds sang out so loud and good,
In a symphony so clear
And pure and sweet that the woodman stood
With his ax upraised to hear,
And to shape the words of the tongue unknown
Into a language all his own--
1
'Sing! every bird, to-day!
Sing for the sky so clear,
And the gracious breath of the atmosphere
Shall waft our cares away.
Sing! sing! for the sunshine free;
Sing through the land from sea to sea;
Lift each voice in the highest key
And sing for Liberty!'
2
'Sing for the arms that fling
Their fetters in the dust
And lift their hands in higher trust
Unto the one Great King;
Sing for the patriot heart and hand;
Sing for the country they have planned;
Sing that the world may understand
This is Freedom's land!'
3
'Sing in the tones of prayer,
Sing till the soaring soul
Shall float above the world's control
In freedom everywhere!
Sing for the good that is to be,
Sing for the eyes that are to see
The land where man at last is free,
O sing for liberty!'
III
A holy quiet reigned, save where the hand
Of labor sent a murmur through the land,
And happy voices in a harmony
Taught every lisping breeze a melody.
A nest of cabins, where the smoke upcurled
A breathing incense to the other world.
A land of languor from the sun of noon,
That fainted slowly to the pallid moon,
Till stars, thick-scattered in the garden-land
Of Heaven by the great Jehovah's hand,
Had blossomed into light to look upon
The dusky warrior with his arrow drawn,
As skulking from the covert of the night
With serpent cunning and a fiend's delight,
With murderous spirit, and a yell of hate
The voice of Hell might tremble to translate:
When the fond mother's tender lullaby
Went quavering in shrieks all suddenly,
And baby-lips were dabbled with the stain
Of crimson at the bosom of the slain,
And peaceful homes and fortunes ruined--lost
In smoldering embers of the holocaust.
Yet on and on, through years of gloom and strife,
Our country struggled into stronger life;
Till colonies, like footprints in the sand,
Marked Freedom's pathway winding through the land--
And not the footprints to be swept away
Before the storm we hatched in Boston Bay,--
But footprints where the path of war begun
That led to Bunker Hill and Lexington,--
For he who "dared to lead where others dared
To follow" found the promise there declared
Of Liberty, in blood of Freedom's host
Baptized to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
Oh, there were times when every patriot breast
Was riotous with sentiments expressed
In tones that swelled in volume till the sound
Of lusty war itself was well-nigh drowned.
Oh, those were times when happy eyes with tears
Brimmed o'er as all the misty doubts and fears
Were washed away, and Hope with gracious mien,
Reigned from her throne again a sovereign queen.
Until at last, upon a day like this
When flowers were blushing at the summer's kiss,
And when the sky was cloudless as the face
Of some sweet infant in its angel grace,--
There came a sound of music, thrown afloat
Upon the balmy air--a clanging note
Reiterated from the brazen throat
Of Independence Bell: A sound so sweet,
The clamoring throngs of people in the streets
Were stilled as at the solemn voice of prayer,
And heads were bowed, and lips were moving there
That made no sound--until the spell had passed,
And then, as when all sudden comes the blast
Of some tornado, came the cheer on cheer
Of every eager voice, while far and near
The echoing bells upon the atmosphere
Set glorious rumors floating, till the ear
Of every listening patriot tingled clear,
And thrilled with joy and jubilee to hear.
I
'Stir all your echoes up,
O Independence Bell,
And pour from your inverted cup
The song we love so well.
'Lift high your happy voice,
And swing your iron tongue
Till syllables of praise rejoice
That never yet were sung.
'Ring in the gleaming dawn
Of Freedom--Toll the knell
Of Tyranny, and then ring on,
O Independence Bell.--
'Ring on, and drown the moan,
Above the patriot slain,
Till sorrow's voice shall catch the tone
And join the glad refrain.
'Ring out the wounds of wrong
And rankle in the breast;
Your music like a slumber-song
Will lull revenge to rest.
'Ring out from Occident
To Orient, and peal
From continent to continent
The mighty joy you feel.
'Ring! Independence Bell!
Ring on till worlds to be
Shall listen to the tale you tell
Of love and Liberty!'
IV
O Liberty--the dearest word
A bleeding country ever heard,--
We lay our hopes upon thy shrine
And offer up our lives for thine.
You gave us many happy years
Of peace and plenty ere the tears
A mourning country wept were dried
Above the graves of those who died
Upon thy threshold. And again
When newer wars were bred, and men
Went marching in the cannon's breath
And died for thee and loved the death,
While, high above them, gleaming bright,
The dear old flag remained in sight,
And lighted up their dying eyes
With smiles that brightened paradise.
O Liberty, it is thy power
To gladden us in every hour
Of gloom, and lead us by thy hand
As little children through a land
Of bud and blossom; while the days
Are filled with sunshine, and thy praise
Is warbled in the roundelays
Of joyous birds, and in the song
Of waters, murmuring along
The paths of peace, whose flowery fringe
Has roses finding deeper tinge
Of crimson, looking on themselves
Reflected--leaning from the shelves
Of cliff and crag and mossy mound
Of emerald splendor shadow-drowned.--
We hail thy presence, as you come
With bugle blast and rolling drum,
And booming guns and shouts of glee
Commingled in a symphony
That thrills the worlds that throng to see
The glory of thy pageantry.
0And with thy praise, we breathe a prayer
That God who leaves you in our care
May favor us from this day on
With thy dear presence--till the dawn
Of Heaven, breaking on thy face,
Lights up thy first abiding place.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Related quotes
Lift Every Voice and Sing
Lift ev'ry voice and sing,
Till earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the list'ning skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on till victory is won.
Stony the road we trod,
Bitter the chast'ning rod,
Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;
Yet with a steady beat,
Have not our weary feet
Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?
We have come over a way that with tears has been watered.
We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,
Out from the gloomy past,
Till now we stand at last
Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.
God of our weary years,
God of our silent tears,
Thou who hast brought us thus far on the way;
Thou who hast by Thy might,
Led us into the light,
Keep us forever in the path, we pray.
Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,
Lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee;
Shadowed beneath Thy hand,
May we forever stand,
True to our God,
True to our native land.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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From A Distance
From a distance, the world looks blue and green,
And the snow capped mountains so white.
From a distance the ocean meets the stream,
And the eagle takes to flight.
From a distance, there is harmony
And it echoes through the land.
Its the voice of hope, its the voice of peace,
Its the voice of every man.
From a distance, we all have enough,
And no-one is in need.
There are no guns, no bombs and no disease
No hungry mouths to feed.
For a moment we must be instruments,
Martching in a common band,
Playing songs of hope, playing songs of peace,
Theyre is the songs of every one.
God is watching us, God is watching us,
God is watching us, from a distance.
From a distance, you look like my friend,
Even though we are at war.
From a distance, I cant comprehend,
What all this war is for.
What we need is love and harmony,
Let it echo through the land.
Its the hope of hopes, its the love of loves,
Its the heart of everyone.
Its the hope of hopes, its the love of loves,
Its the song of everyone.
Sing out, songs of hope,
Sing out, songs of freedom,
Sing out, songs of love,
Sing out, songs of peace,
Sing out, songs of justice,
Sing out, songs of harmony,
Sing out, songs of love,
Sing out, everyone,
Sing out, songs of hope,
Sing out, songs of freedom,
Sing out, songs of love,
Sing out, songs of peace,
Sing out, songs of justice,
Sing out, songs in harmony,
Sing out, sing about love,
Sing out, everyone.
Sing out.
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sing Our Own Song
The great flood of tears that we've cried
For our brothers and sisters who've died
Over four hundred years
Has washed away our fears
And strengthened our pride
Now we turn back the tide
We will no longer hear your command
We will sieze the control from your hand
We will fan the flame
Of our anger and pain
And you'll feel the shame
For what you do in gods name
(chorus)
We will fight for the right to be free
We will build our own society
And we will sing, we will sing
We will sing our own song
When the ancient drum rythms ring
The voice of our forefathers sings
Forward africa run
Our day of freedom has come
For me and for you
Amandla awethu
(chorus)
We will fight for the right to be free
We will build our own society
And we will sing, we will sing
We will sing our own song
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Star Spangled Banner
Oh say can you see
By the dawns early light
What so proudly we hail
And the twilights last gleaming
Whose broad stripes and bright stars
Through the perilous fight
For the ram-parts we watched
Where so galantly streaming
My country tis of thee
Sweet land of liberty
Of thee I sing
Land where my fathers died
Land of the Pilgrim's pride
From every mountain side
Let freedom ring
And the rocket's red glare
The bombs bursting in air
Gave proof through the night
That our flag was still there
Oh say does that star spangled banner yet wave
For the land of free
And the home of the brave!
song performed by by Boyz II Men
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sing To Me
Sing to me! Something of sunlight and bloom,
I am so compassed with sorrow and gloom,
I am so sick with the world’s noisse and strife, -
Sing of the beauty and brightness of life –
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing to me! Something that’s jubilant, glad!
I am so weary, my soul so sad.
All my earth riches are covered with rust,
All my bright dreams are but ashes and dust.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing og the blossoms that open in spring,
How the sweet flowers blow, and the long lichens cling,
Say, though the winter is round about me,
There are bright summers and springs yet to be.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing me a song full of hope and of truth,
Brimming with all the sweet fancies of youth!
Say, though my sorrow I may not forget,
I have not quite done with happiness yet.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Lay your soft fingers just here, on my cheek;
Turn the light lower – there- no, do not speak,
But sing! My heart thrills at your beautiful voice;
Sing till I turn from my grief and rejoice.
Sing to me, sing to me!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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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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Laus Deo
It is done!
Clang of bell and roar of gun
Send the tidings up and down.
How the belfries rock and reel!
How the great guns, peal on peal,
Fling the joy from town to town!
Ring, O bells!
Every stroke exulting tells
Of the burial hour of crime.
Loud and long, that all may hear,
Ring for every listening ear
Of Eternity and Time!
Let us kneel:
God's own voice is in that peal,
And this spot is holy ground.
Lord, forgive us! What are we
That our eyes this glory see,
That our ears have heard this sound!
For the Lord
On the whirlwind is abroad;
In the earthquake He has spoken;
He has smitten with His thunder
The iron walls asunder,
And the gates of brass are broken!
Loud and long
Lift the old exulting song;
Sing with Miriam by the sea,
He has cast the mighty down;
Horse and rider sink and drown;
'He hath triumphed gloriously!'
Did we dare,
In our agony of prayer,
Ask for more than He has done?
When was ever His right hand
Over any time or land
Stretched as now beneath the sun?
How they pale,
Ancient myth and song and tale,
In this wonder of our days
When the cruel rod of war
Blossoms white with righteous law,
And the wrath of man is praise!
Blotted out!
All within and all about
Shall a fresher life begin;
Freer breathe the universe
As it rolls its heavy curse
On the dead and buried sin!
It is done!
In the circuit of the sun
Shall the sound thereof go forth.
It shall bid the sad rejoice,
It shall give the dumb a voice,
It shall belt with joy the earth!
Ring and swing,
Bells of joy! On morning's wing
Sound the song of praise abroad!
With a sound of broken chains
Tell the nations that He reigns,
Who alone is Lord and God!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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The Poet and his Song
A SONG is but a little thing,
And yet what joy it is to sing!
In hours of toil it gives me zest,
And when at eve I long for rest;
When cows come home along the bars,
And in the fold I hear the bell,
As Night, the shepherd, herds his stars,
I sing my song, and all is well.
There are no ears to hear my lays,
No lips to lift a word of praise;
But still, with faith unfaltering,
I live and laugh and love and sing.
What matters yon unheeding throng?
They cannot feel my spirit's spell,
Since life is sweet and love is long,
I sing my song, and all is well.
My days are never days of ease;
I till my ground and prune my trees.
When ripened gold is all the plain,
I put my sickle to the grain.
I labor hard, and toil and sweat,
While others dream within the dell;
But even while my brow is wet,
I sing my song, and all is well.
Sometimes the sun, unkindly hot,
My garden makes a desert spot;
Sometimes a blight upon the tree
Takes all my fruit away from me;
And then with throes of bitter pain
Rebellious passions rise and swell;
But - life is more than fruit or grain,
And so I sing, and all is well.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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I Sing
I sing to vent the pain that is sometimes in me
Other times I sing of happiness, jubilation and glee
Sometimes I sing in celebration and can rock out all night long
I sing of love through every ballad and heart wrenching love song
Sometimes I sing a song that is trapped inside my head
I sing it all day long, sometimes until I go to bed
I sing of memories, songs that mark pages in my past
I sing on holidays, great carols that last and last and last
I sing when I am working, then time doesn’t seem so long
I sing when I am lonely, there’s nothing like the comfort of a song
To me, to sing with all my voice is simply a blast
I hope to sing everyday of my life until I breathe my last
poem by Rhonda Baker
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The Bell Of Freedom
Philadelphia's the home of freedom.
Liberty stands at the sound of a bell.
Freedom for the world.That's my religion.
Freedom in the states.That's the way it should be.
Ring-a-ling-a-ling.Here the bell of freedom.
Ring-a-ling-a-ling.Let's also ring this bell for the world.
There's a statue of a lady.In New York City.
Her torch burning bright, for the world to see.
Her meaning's just the same.She looks so pretty.
But nothing like the bell that rings so free.
Philadelphia's the home of freedom.
Liberty stands at the sound of a bell.
Freedom for the world.That's my religion.
Freedom in the states.That's the way it should be.
Ring-a-ling-a-ling.Hear the bell of freedom.
Ring-a-ling-a-ling.Let's also ring this bell for the world.
There's a flag that flies.It holds the same meaning.
Those stars and stripes, just wave in the air.
This flag's got a name.It's called Old Glory.
This flag flies along.While we're ringing the bell.
Ring-a-ling-a-ling.Hear the bell of freedom.
Ring-a-ling-a-ling.Let's also ring this bell for the world.
Philadelphia's the home of freedom.
Liberty stands at the sound of a bell.
Freedom for the world.That's my religion.
Freedom in the states.That's the way it should be.
Ring-a-ling-a-ling.Hear the bell of freedom.
Ring-a-ling-a-ling.Let's also ring this bell for the world...
Patriotic-Song-Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2002,2009..
ALL rights reserved..
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Barcarolle
The stars are dimly seen among the shadows of the bay,
And lights that win are seen in strife with lights that die away.
The wave is very still -- the rudder loosens in our hand,
The zephyr will not fill our sail and waft us to the land;
O precious is the pause between the winds that come and go,
And sweet the silence of the shores between the ebb and flow.
No sound but sound of rest is on the bosom of the deep,
Soft as the breathing of a breast serenly hushed with sleep:
Lay by the ear; there is a voice at heart to sing or sigh --
O what shall be the choice of barcarolle or lullaby?
Say shall we sing of day or night, fair land or mighty ocean,
Of any rapturous delight or any dear emotion,
Of any joy that is on earth, or hope that is above--
The holy country of our birth, or any song of love?
Our heart in all our life is like the hand of one who steers
A bark upon an ocean rife with dangers and with fears;
The joys, the hopes, like waves or wings, bear up this life of ours --
Short as a song of all these things that make up all its hours.
Spread sail! For it is Hope today that like a wind new-risen
Doth waft us on a golden wing towards a new horizon,
That is the sun before our sight, the beacon for us burning,
That is the star in all our night of watching and of yearning.
Love is this thing that we pursue today, tonight, for ever,
We care not whither, know not who shall be at length the giver:
For Love, -- our life and all our years are cast upon the waves;
Our heart is as the hand that steers; -- but who is He that saves?
We ply with oars, we strive with every sail upon our mast --
We never tire, never fail -- and Love is seen at last:
A low and purple mirage like a coast where day is breaking --
Sink sail! for such a dream of Love is lost before the waking.
poem by Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy
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Sing A Song Of Freedom
As I look around me I see the world
In a different light
Everything is changing and it happened
One night
Changing for the better and it starts
With you and me
So well sing our song together and forever
Well be free
Sing a song of freedom
People together everybody sing
Sing a song of freedom each and everyman
People come together all across the land
If youre looking for an answer
Its very close hand
Just take a look around you and
Then youll understand
Clap your hands together and let
Me hear the sound
Its the time for liberation so pass
The world around
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Ode to the Queen on Her Jubilee Year
Sound drums and trumpets, far and near!
And Let all Queen Victoria's subjects loudly cheer!
And show by their actions that they revere,
Because she's served them faithfully fifty long year!
All hail to the Empress of India and Great Britain's Queen!
Long may she live happy and serene!
And as this is now her Jubilee year,
I hope her subjects will show their loyalty without fear.
Therefore let all her subjects rejoice and sing,
Until they make the welkin ring;
And let young and old on this her Jubilee be glad,
And cry, "Long Live our Queen!" and don't be sad.
She has been a good Queen, which no one dare gainsay,
And I hope God will protect her for many a day;
May He enable her a few more years to reign,
And let all her lieges say - Amen!
Let all hatred towards her be thrown aside
All o'er dominions broad and wide;
And let all her subjects bear in mind,
By God kings and queens are put in trust o'er mankind.
Therefore rejoice and be glad on her Jubilee day,
And try and make the heart of our Queen feel gay;
Oh! try and make her happy in country and town,
And not with Shakespeare say, "uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."
And as this is her first Jubilee year,
And will be her last, I rather fear:
Therefore, sound drums and trumpets cheerfully,
Until the echoes are heard o'er land and sea.
And let the innocent voices of the children at home or abroad
Ascend with cheerful shouts to the throne of God;
And sing aloud, "God Save our Gracious Queen!"
Because a good and charitable Sovereign she has been.
Therefore, ye sons of great Britain, come join with me,
And welcome in our noble Queen's Jubilee;
Because she has been a faithful Queen, ye must confess,
There hasn't been her equal since the days of Queen Bess.
Therefore let all her lieges shout and cheer,
"God Save our Gracious Queen!" for many a year;
let such be the cry in the peasant's cot, the hall,
With stentorian voices, as loud as they can bawl.
And let bonfires be kindled on every hill
And let her subjects dance around them at their freewill;
And try to drive dull care away
By singing and rejoicing on the Queen's Jubilee day.
May God protect her for many a day,
At home or abroad when she's far away;
Long may she be spared o'er her subjects to reign,
And let each and all with one voice say - Amen!
Victoria is a good Queen, which all he subjects know,
And for that may God protect her from every foe;
May He be as a hedge around her, as He's been all along.
And let her live and die in peace - is the end of my song.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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About Me
this is all about me
my name is Handa Awit
it means Ready Sing
it is a request
but it can be a command
for people to sing
for us
for everyone to stop talking
and sing
there is something in the song
that makes us joyous
even in grief the song will always
be uplifting
a song of love
a praise for God
a song for unity
a song for liberty
my hair is black and long
and is blown by the winds of change
it is only one of my eyes that see
for one is closed in
a dream
my thick lips open for this song
of freedom
not from the bondage of war
for there is none
but from the bondage of our
worries
away from the land of depression
the cities of noise
the bumpy roads of our
differences
i am brown like the earth
i am the shade of the west and the east
my name is an invitation
for us to sing
a song of love
of freedom of harmony
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Circles Of Dawn
I used to be so blind - just like a stone
Under the waves of the sea
An unbelieving mind - was sleeping alone
'Till you come down to me
You took me by hand
Speaking the words of my heart
You led me to a land beyond our world
When heavens open wide
And all the angels cry
I look into your eyes
And I see the light
And the angels sing of love
I look into your eyes - circles of dawn
Tear me from dark into light
And when I start to cry - you sing a song
Calming my sighs
(And when you sing a song -
I sing along
Angels are singing of love)
song performed by by Zeno
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Patriot
The patriot from his walls of brass
Is singing loudly as I pass;
With fearless heart and open eyes,
He shouts the ancient battle cries;
And, where I pause to hear him sing,
A silent crowd is listening.
My country, God bestows by thee
The glory of the world to be
The glory thou alone canst give
To last amid things fugitive.
My country, an ideal form
I see thee splendid in the storm,
Directress of the power divine
That makes the expectant future thine.
My country, all the world shall bow
Before thy peace-conceiving brow,
And all the peoples humbly stand
Submissive to thy blessing hand.
My country, yea, the foes who raise
A tyrant flag shall learn to praise
Thy steadfast love that dares to fight
The horde of Satan for the right.
My country, loveliest, strongest, best,
Thou hast a mission to the rest,
And greater wealth and love shall be
The guerdon of thy ministry.
In every land I hear him sing;
In every land I see him fling
His country’s flag against the skies
And gaze aloft with dazzled eyes;
And then his loud applause rings round
His walls of brass with brazen sound;
And deep below his cheering loud
I mark the murmur of the crowd.
poem by John Le Gay Brereton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Flag
See the glorious stars and stripes,
Floating over there;
See how gracefully they wave
In the summer air.
We love to see that starry flag,
Wave in peace with ease,
And its colors, red, white and blue,
Unfurled to the breeze.
God grant that flag may ever wave
O'er our native land,
Where sons of freemen are united
In a happy band,
To celebrate the glorious Fourth,
The day we should adore;
Hail each anniversary day,
Now and evermore.
Our fathers fought beneath that flag
In the days of yore,
To gain their freedom from British laws,
Which they could not endure.
The cry was then for liberty,
On land and on sea;
They gained the glorious victory --
Our country now is free.
The land of Columbia's sons,
To-day is filled with joy;
Every heart should beat as one,
In the blessings we enjoy.
We should love our native land,
Where our fathers died,
We should keep the country free --
The early pilgrim's pride.
See the glorious stars and stripes,
Waving over there,
See the starry emblem, friends,
Floating in the air.
Proud it waves o'er our land,
Where it has waved for years,
May every freeman greet that flag
With three rousing cheers.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Gardens in Linndale
Two brothers, Oakes and Oliver,
Two gentle men as ever were,
Would roam no longer, but abide
In Linndale, where their fathers died,
And each would be a gardener.
“Now first we fence the garden through,
With this for me and that for you,”
Said Oliver.—“Divine!” said Oakes,
“And I, while I raise artichokes,
Will do what I was born to do.”
“But this is not the soil, you know,”
Said Oliver, “to make them grow:
The parent of us, who is dead,
Compassionately shook his head
Once on a time and told me so.”
“I hear you, gentle Oliver,”
Said Oakes, “and in your character
I find as fair a thing indeed
As ever bloomed and ran to seed
Since Adam was a gardener.
“Still, whatsoever I find there,
Forgive me if I do not share
The knowing gloom that you take on
Of one who doubted and is done:
For chemistry meets every prayer.”
“Sometimes a rock will meet a plough,”
Said Oliver; “but anyhow
’Tis here we are, ’tis here we live,
With each to take and each to give:
There’s no room for a quarrel now.
“I leave you in all gentleness
To science and a ripe success.
Now God be with you, brother Oakes,
With you and with your artichokes:
You have the vision, more or less.”
“By fate, that gives to me no choice,
I have the vision and the voice:
Dear Oliver, believe in me,
And we shall see what we shall see;
Henceforward let us both rejoice.”
“But first, while we have joy to spare
We’ll plant a little here and there;
And if you be not in the wrong,
We’ll sing together such a song
As no man yet sings anywhere.”
They planted and with fruitful eyes
Attended each his enterprise.
“Now days will come and days will go,
And many a way be found, we know,”
Said Oakes, “and we shall sing, likewise.”
“The days will go, the years will go,
And many a song be sung, we know,”
Said Oliver; “and if there be
Good harvesting for you and me,
Who cares if we sing loud or low?”
They planted once, and twice, and thrice,
Like amateurs in paradise;
And every spring, fond, foiled, elate,
Said Oakes, “We are in tune with Fate:
One season longer will suffice.”
Year after year ’twas all the same:
With none to envy, none to blame,
They lived along in innocence,
Nor ever once forgot the fence,
Till on a day the Stranger came.
He came to greet them where they were,
And he too was a Gardener:
He stood between these gentle men,
He stayed a little while, and then
The land was all for Oliver.
’Tis Oliver who tills alone
Two gardens that are now his own;
’Tis Oliver who sows and reaps
And listens, while the other sleeps,
For songs undreamed of and unknown.
’Tis he, the gentle anchorite,
Who listens for them day and night;
But most he hears them in the dawn,
When from his trees across the lawn
Birds ring the chorus of the light.
He cannot sing without the voice,
But he may worship and rejoice
For patience in him to remain,
The chosen heir of age and pain,
Instead of Oakes—who had no choice.
’Tis Oliver who sits beside
The other’s grave at eventide,
And smokes, and wonders what new race
Will have two gardens, by God’s grace,
In Linndale, where their fathers died.
And often, while he sits and smokes,
He sees the ghost of gentle Oakes
Uprooting, with a restless hand,
Soft, shadowy flowers in a land
Of asphodels and artichokes.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Love Song
Bob morrison/alice kiester
You know better and I know better, lets do it anyway
Throw our hearts into the wind and let the music play
One more time, for old times sake where could we go wrong?
We know every word by heart, come on, lets sing our our love song
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, sha la la, love song we can find the harmony and sing it all night long
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, sha la la, love song sing it sweet and sing it low, till all the musics gone
Theres no telling what could happen if it happens right
We may just turn the record over and let it play all night
Its got an old familiar feeling made you sing along
Theres no sweeter melody come sing this old love song with me
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, sha la la, love song we can find the harmony and sing it all night long
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, sha la la, love song sing it sweet and sing it low, till all the musics gone
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, sha la la, love song
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, sha la la, love song
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, sha la la, love song.....
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let Us Pray
(words & music by b. kaye - b. weisman)
Come praise the lord for he is good
Mmm come join in love and brotherhood
Well hear the word and bring our gifts of bread and wine
And well be blessed beneath the sign
So let us pray together, pray together
Pray with the one mighty voice (heavenly voice)
And let us sing together, sing together
Pray and well rejoice (well rejoice)
When strangers reach out for your hand (for your hand)
Respond to them and understand (heaven obeyed to understand)
Well rise as one to calm the storm outside the gate (calm the storm)
With faith in him well never leave (never leave)
So let us pray together, pray together
Pray with the one mighty voice (heavenly voice)
And let us sing together, sing together
Pray and well rejoice (well rejoice)
(well rejoice)
The love of God is on our side (love is, love is on our side)
We have the strength to move the tide (well move the tide)
The world will say so, therell be peace and love for all (love for all)
And we must give our brothers love
So let us pray together, pray together
Pray with the one mighty voice (heavenly voice)
And let us sing together, sing together
Pray and well rejoice (well rejoice)
Love for all, love for all to the lord
Well rejoice love for all to the lord
Well rejoice love for all to the lord
Well rejoice for the lord
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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