En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Psalm CXXXVII The Babylonian Captivity

ALONG the banks where Babel's current flows
Our captive bands in deep despondence stray'd,
While Zion's fall in sad remembrance rose,
Her friends, her children mingled with the dead.

The tuneless harp, that once with joy we strung,
When praise employ'd and mirth inspir'd the lay,
In mournful silence on the willows hung;
And growing grief prolong'd the tedious day.

The barbarous tyrants, to increase the woe,
With taunting smiles a song of Zion claim;
Bid sacred praise in strains melodious flow,
While they blaspheme the great Jehovah's name.

But how, in heathen chains and lands unknown,
Shall Israel's sons a song of Zion raise?
O hapless Salem, God's terrestrial throne,
Thou land of glory, sacred mount of praise.

If e'er my memory lose thy lovely name,
If my cold heart neglect my kindred race,
Let dire destruction seize this guilty frame;
My hand shall perish and my voice shall cease.

Yet shall the Lord, who hears when Zion calls,
O'ertake her foes with terror and dismay,
His arm avenge her desolated walls,
And raise her children to eternal day.

poem by Joel Barlow
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Zion

The Doorkeepers of Zion,
They do not always stand
In helmet and whole armour,
With halberds in their hand;
But, being sure of Zion,
And all her mysteries,
They rest awhile in Zion,
Sit down and smile in Zion;
Ay, even jest in Zion;
In Zion, at their ease.

The Gatekeepers of Baal,
They dare not sit or lean,
But fume and fret and posture
And foam and curse between;
For being bound to Baal,
Whose sacrifice is vain,
Their rest is scant with Baal,
They glare and pant for Baal,
They mouth and rant for Baal,
For Baal in their pain!

But we will go to Zion,
By choice and not through dread,
With these our present comrades
And those our present dead;
And, being free of Zion
In both her fellowships,
Sit down and sup in Zion --
Stand up and drink in Zion
Whatever cup in Zion
Is offered to our lips!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Psalm 65 part 1

v.1-5
L. M.
Public prayer and praise.

The praise of Zion waits for thee,
My God, and praise becomes thy house;
There shall thy saints thy glory see,
And there perform their public vows.

O thou whose mercy bends the skies
To save when humble sinners pray,
All lands to thee shall lift their eyes,
And islands of the northern sea.

Against my will my sins prevail,
But grace shall purge away their stain;
The blood of Christ will never fail
To wash my garments white again.

Blest is the man whom thou shalt choose,
And give him kind access to thee;
Give him a place within thy house,
To taste thy love divinely free.

PAUSE.

Let Babel fear when Zion prays;
Babel, prepare for long distress,
When Zion's God himself arrays
In terror and in righteousness.

With dreadful glory God fulfils
What his afflicted saints request;
And with almighty wrath reveals
His love, to give his churches rest.

Then shall the flocking nations run
To Zion's hill, and own their Lord;
The rising and the setting sun
Shall see the Savior's name adored.

poem by Isaac Watts
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Father's Of Zion

Fathers's of zion
Lived in the seas
They have
Children to embrace
Father's of zion
Have children to raise

poem by Aldo Kraas
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White rose, red

Take my white rose
White rose, red
Love everlasting
Even when dead

Kiss my white rose
White rose, red
In which love flows
In what is said

Cry on my white rose
White rose, red
Always there to be with you
And comfort you when sad

Love my white rose
White rose, red
So I may forever be with you
Loving you with the symbol
White rose...
White rose stained blood red

(Xanxus)

poem by Giotto Vongola
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The Rose

We love the land when the world goes round,
And deep, deep down in her thorny ground,
Where nobody comes, and nobody knows,
We love the Rose. Oh! we love the Rose.

And none to tell us, and none to teach
By the western hedge or the shelving beach,
But all of us know what everyone knows,
We love the Rose. Oh! we love the Rose.

We love the rose when our day is dead,
And they lay their roses upon our bed;
Too late! Too late! in our last repose!
But we love the Rose. Ah! we love the Rose.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Psalm 53

v.4-6
C. M.
Victory and deliverance from persecution.

Are all the foes of Zion fools,
Who thus devour her saints?
Do they not know her Savior rules,
And pities her complaints?

They shall be seized with sad surprise;
For God's revenging arm
Scatters the bones of them that rise
To do his children harm.

In vain the sons of Satan boast
Of armies in array;
When God has first despised their host
They fall an easy prey.

O for a word from Zion's King,
Her captives to restore!
Jacob with all his tribes shall sing,
And Judah weep no more.

poem by Isaac Watts
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Act Of Rememberence

Arms of steel, hair of gold
Royal blue eyes, with a rebel soul
You scared me, you still do
But I loved you
More than you ever knew
This is my act of remembrance
My act of remembrance
Doctor's face, said the time had come
I stood up, and began to run
My boy's voice, called your name
You roared back and the silence came
This is my act of remembrance
My act of remembrance
Drove my car, to your street
Hoped a ghost, I would meet
Well that ghost, he's moved on
But his anger, Dad is it gone?
Is the pain gone, is it all gone?
This is my act of remembrance
My act of remembrance
This is my act of remembrance

song performed by by Proclaimers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lets Go

I hear the guitars ringing out
Ringing out down union street
I hear the lead singer shouting out yeah
I wanna be a slave to the beat
Yeah, I want something thatll break my chains
Something to break my heart
Something to shake my brains
Little rocker ? ? ? ? ? around (on? ) tonight (delight? )
So meet me on down
Meet me on down
I wanna be where the bands are
I wanna be where the bands are
Where the bands are
I wanna be where the bands are
Where the bands are
I wanna be where the bands are
Where the bands are
I wanna be where the bands are
I....wanna.....be
I....wanna.....be
I....wanna.....be
Where the bands are
Where the bands are
I....wanna.....be
Where the bands are
I wanna start a new life
We left our home in the hillside (? )
We left back family and our friends (? )
We came down here to ...
To start all over again
We left when the fields were ...
...
...
I wanna start a new life
I wanna start a new life
I wanna ... forget about the man that I used to be

song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shallow Grave

When I fall in endless sleep
I hope that I'll be buried deep
Let me be the one that fortune favours
Even good children got shallow graves
Throw another clown to the lions
Throw another Joan on the blaze
Cast me away on the cruel calm ocean
and leave me for days and days and days and days and days
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
I won't lie, I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
Bless the poor 'cos like the rich
They all end up in a ditch
In this world of fools and knaves
Even good children got shallow graves
The tinker, the tailor, the fabulous five
Nobody gets out of this alive
Chorus
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down, dig me down, dig me down deep
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave

song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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First rose

A heart of youthful year was yearning,
Crying out the pain; the burning
Tears would e’er remain until
An answer from the man would see them die.

A sympathetic mirror blessed her –
Softened up the curves, caressed her
Skin to help regain a calm –
Assuage a heaving breast and blushing eye.

And through a struggling mind, a chiming:
Someone at the door; the timing
Perfect and exquisite in the
Reconciliation of her woes.

She took the oak to make the parting,
‘Here! ’ a presentation startling.
Drawing deep through radiant lips, she
Kissed her very dream: a crimson rose.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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White rose, red

Take my white rose
White rose, red
Love everlasting
Even when dead

Kiss my white rose
White rose, red
In which love flows
In what is said

Cry on my white rose
White rose, red
Always there to be with you
Always there to be with you sad

Love my white rose
White rose, red
So I may forever be with you
So I may forever dream with you
So I may forever love with you
All in the symbol

White rose....White rose stained red

poem by Trey Mitchell
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Song

ASK me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose;
For in your beauty's orient deep
These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.

Ask me no more whither do stray
The golden atoms of the day;
For in pure love heaven did prepare
Those powders to enrich your hair.

Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale when May is past;
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters and keeps warm her note.

Ask me no more where those stars 'light
That downwards fall in dead of night;
For in your eyes they sit, and there
Fixed become as in their sphere.

Ask me no more if east or west
The Phoenix builds her spicy nest;
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies.

poem by Thomas Carew
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Ask Me No More

Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose;
For in your beauty's orient deep
These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.

Ask me no more whither do stray
The golden atoms of the day;
For in pure love heaven did prepare
Those powders to enrich your hair.

Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale when May is past;
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters and keeps warm her note.

Ask me no more where those stars 'light
That downwards fall in dead of night;
For in your eyes they sit, and there
Fixed become as in their sphere.

Ask me no more if east or west
The Phoenix builds her spicy nest;
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies.

poem by Thomas Carew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mary, the Maid o' the Tay

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Tay,
Whaur me and my Mary oft did stray;
But noo she is dead and gone far away,
Sae I maun mourn for lovely Mary, the Maid o' the Tay,

The first time I met her 'twas in the month of May,
And the sun was shining bricht on the Silvery Tay;
I asked her name and she modestly did say,
"Some fouks ca's me lovely Mary, the Maid o' the Tay."

Oh, charming Mary o' the Tay,
Queen o' my soul by nicht and day;
But noo thou'rt gane and left me here
To weep for you, sweet Mary dear.

Oh, bonnie Mary o' the Tay,
Joy o' my heart and Queen o' May;
With thee I aye felt happy and gay
While rambling with thee on the banks o' the Tay.

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Tay,
With my Mary ye seemed ever gay;
But noo ye seem baith dark and drear,
For my puir heart ye canna cheer.

My Mary was handsome and fair to be seen,
She bad bonnie fair hair and twa blue een;
And she was, aye happy while we carelessly did stray
Alang the banks o' the Silvery Tay.

Oh, Mary dear, I mourn thy loss,
To me the world seems nought but dross;
Sae I maun mourn baith nicht and day
For my lovely Mary, the Maid o' the Tay.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Shallow Graves

When I fall in endless sleep
I hope that Ill be buried deep
Let me be the one that fortune favours
Even good children got shallow graves
Throw another clown to the lions
Throw another joan on the blaze
Cast me away on the cruel calm ocean
And leave me for days and days and days and days and days
I wont lie in this poor shallow grave
I wont lie, I wont lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I wont lie in this poor shallow grave
Bless the poor cos like the rich
They all end up in a ditch
In this world of fools and knaves
Even good children got shallow graves
The tinker, the tailor, the fabulous five
Nobody gets out of this alive
Chorus
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I wont lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I wont lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down, dig me down, dig me down deep
I wont lie in this poor shallow grave

song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love is like a rose

Roses are red, yes that is true, it's often
said, as said, 'i love you' when the petals die
and fall to the ground the world remains silent
without a sound when the rose blooms and
becomes bright red one day, too soon that rose will fall
dead love is like a rose, WONT LAST LONG, nobody knows,
why love goes wrong, when the leaves curl up and sink below
is when one gives up, why? i dont know. from a touch of the
stem to a kiss on the nose no one understands
why love is like a rose

BY: Ashley Burtrum

poem by Brittany Burtrum
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Zion, Or The City Of God

Glorious things of thee are spoken,
Zion, city of our God;
He whose word cannot be broken
Formed thee for His own abode.
On the Rock of Ages founded,
What can shake thy sure repose?
With salvation's walls surrounded
Thou may'st smile at all thy foes.

See, the streams of living waters
Springing from eternal love
Well supply thy sons and daughters
And all fear of want remove.
Who can faint while such a river
Ever flows their thirst t'assuage
Grace, which, like the Lord, the Giver,
Never fails from age to age?

Round each habitation hovering,
See the cloud and fire appear,
For a glory and a covering,
Showing that the Lord is near.
Thus they march, the pillar leading,
Light by night and shade by day,
Daily on the manna feeding
Which He gives them when they pray.

Blest inhabitants of Zion,
Washed in the Redeemer's blood!
Jesus, whom their souls rely on,
Makes them kings and priests to God.
'Tis His love His people raises
Over self to reign as kings,
And as priests, His solemn praises
Each for a thank-offering brings.

Savior, if of Zion's city
I through grace a member am,
Let the world deride or pity,
I will glory in Thy name.
Fading is the worldling's pleasure,
All his boasted pomp and show;
Solid joys and lasting treasure
None but Zion's children know.

poem by John Newton
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Iron, Lion, Zion

I am on the rock and then I check a stock
I have to run like a fugitive to save the life I live
Im gonna be iron like a lion in zion (repeat)
Iron lion zion
Im on the run but I aint got no gun
See they want to be the star
So they fighting tribal war
And they saying iron like a lion in zion
Iron like a lion in zion,
Iron lion zion
Im on the rock, (running and you running)
I take a stock, (running like a fugitive)
I had to run like a fugitive just to save the life I live
Im gonna be iron like a lion in zion (repeat)
Iron lion zion, iron lion zion, iron lion zion
Iron like a lion in zion, iron like a lion in zion
Iron like a lion in zion

song performed by by Bob Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song: When June is Past, the Fading Rose

Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose;
For in your beauty's orient deep
These flowers as in their causes, sleep.

Ask me no more whither doth stray
The golden atoms of the day;
For in pure love heaven did prepare
Those powders to enrich your hair.

Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale when May is past;
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters and keeps warm her note.

Ask me no more where those stars light
That downwards fall in dead of night;
For in your eyes they sit, and there,
Fixed become as in their sphere.

Ask me no more if east or west
The phœnix builds her spicy nest;
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies.

poem by Thomas Carew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Aske me no more where Jove bestowes

ASK me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose;
For in your beauty's orient deep
These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.

Ask me no more whither doth stray
The golden atoms of the day;
For in pure love heaven did prepare
Those powders to enrich your hair.

Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale, when May is past;
For in your sweet, dividing throat
She winters, and keeps warm her note.

Ask me no more where those stars light,
That downwards fall in dead of night;
For in your eyes they sit, and there
Fixed become, as in their sphere.

Ask me no more if east or west
The phoenix builds her spicy nest;
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies.

poem by Thomas Carew
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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