Song #2
One gloomy eve I roamed about
Neath Oxey's hazel bowers,
While timid hares were darting out,
To crop the dewy flowers;
And soothing was the scene to me,
Right pleased was my soul,
My breast was calm as summer's sea
When waves forget to roll.
But short was even's placid smile,
My startled soul to charm,
When Nelly lightly skipt the stile,
With milk-pail on her arm:
One careless look on me she flung,
As bright as parting day;
And like a hawk from covert sprung,
It pounced my peace away.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On A Bank Of Flowers
On a bank of flowers in a summer day
For summer lightly drest,
The youthful, blooming Nelly lay,
With love and sleep opprest;
When Willie, wand'ring thro the wood
Who for her favour oft had suedÑ
He gaz'd, he wish'd He fear'd, he blush'd
And trembled where he stood.
Her closèd eyes, like weapons sheath'd,
Were sealed in soft repose;
Her lips, still as she fragrant breath'd,
It richer dyed the rose.
The springing lilies, sweetly Crest,
Wild-wanton kissed her rival breast:
He gaz'd, he wish'd, He fear'd he blush'd
His bosom ill at rest.
Her robes, light-waving in the breeze,
Her tender limbs embrace;
Her lovely form, her native ease,
All harmony and grace.
Tumultuous tides his pulses roll,
A faltering, ardent kiss he stole;
He gaz'd, he wish'd, He fear'd, he blush'd,
And sigh'd his very soul.
As flies the partridge from the brake
On fear-inspired wings
So Nelly starting, half-awake
Away affrighted springs.
But Willie, follow'd---as he should
He overtook her in the wood;
He vow'd, he pray'd, He found the maid
Forgiving all, and good.
poem by Robert Burns
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In Memoriam A. H. H.: 11. Calm is the morn without a sound
Calm is the morn without a sound,
Calm as to suit a calmer grief,
And only thro' the faded leaf
The chestnut pattering to the ground:
Calm and deep peace on this high wold,
And on these dews that drench the furze.
And all the silvery gossamers
That twinkle into green and gold:
Calm and still light on yon great plain
That sweeps with all its autumn bowers,
And crowded farms and lessening towers,
To mingle with the bounding main:
Calm and deep peace in this wide air,
These leaves that redden to the fall;
And in my heart, if calm at all,
If any calm, a calm despair:
Calm on the seas, and silver sleep,
And waves that sway themselves in rest,
And dead calm in that noble breast
Which heaves but with the heaving deep.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Rock 'N Roll Soul (Live)
Rock & Roll Soul
Grand Funk Railroad
We're having a party, yeah, yeah, everybody's invited,
The new generation along with the old.
If you could get with it just a little more, it don't take much tryin',
You'll find out if you've got some rock & roll soul, baby.
Ain't everybody in the world. So when you know what you got, let everybody know,
You got some rock & roll soul.
So when you know what you got, let everybody know,
You got some rock & roll soul.
I know it when I'm feelin' groovy,
It's kind of funky like an old-time movie.
I can feel it and it's really something,
It's really something when my heart starts pumpin', yeah.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock 'n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock 'n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock 'n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock 'n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock 'n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock 'n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock 'n roll soul.
From: domingos pereira costa
song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Depths [Adâncuri]
How smiles the lake and charms the eye
Under the sun's bright shining rays
When the blue image of the sky
Is mirrored by its sparkling waves.
And in the mud, in waters deep,
The fight is fierce and without break
For lots of beings fret and creep
When calm prevails upon the lake.
We smile deceiving all along
As do the waves which gently roll.
We look composed, but passions strong
Hide in the depths of our poor soul!
poem by Cincinat Pavelescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Rock Roll Soul
Were having a party, yeah, yeah, everybodys invited,
The new generation along with the old.
If you could get with it just a little more, it dont take much tryin,
Youll find out if youve got some rock & roll soul, baby.
Aint everybody in the world. so when you know what you got, let everybody know,
You got some rock & roll soul.
So when you know what you got, let everybody know,
You got some rock & roll soul.
I know it when Im feelin groovy,
Its kind of funky like an old-time movie.
I can feel it and its really something,
Its really something when my heart starts pumpin, yeah.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock n roll soul.
song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rock & Roll Soul
We're having a party, yeah, yeah, everybody's invited,
The new generation along with the old.
If you could get with it just a little more, it don't take much tryin',
You'll find out if you've got some rock & roll soul, baby.
Ain't everybody in the world. so when you know what you got, let everybody know,
You got some rock & roll soul.
So when you know what you got, let everybody know,
You got some rock & roll soul.
I know it when i'm feelin' groovy,
It's kind of funky like an old-time movie.
I can feel it and it's really something,
It's really something when my heart starts pumpin', yeah.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock 'n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock 'n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock 'n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock 'n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock 'n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock 'n roll soul.
Tell everybody you know, you got some rock 'n roll soul.
song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epigram : To Leonora Singing At Rome (Translated From Milton)
Another Leonora once inspir'd
Tasso, with fatal love to frenzy fir'd,
But how much happier, liv'd he now, were he,
Pierced with whatever pangs for love of Thee!
Since could he hear that heavenly voice of thine,
With Adriana's lute of sound divine,
Fiercer than Pentheus' tho' his eye might roll,
Or idiot apathy benumb his soul,
You still, with medicinal sounds, might cheer
His senses wandering in a blind career;
And sweetly breathing thro' his wounded breast,
Charm, with soul-soothing song, his thoughts to rest.
poem by William Cowper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Thought
I may not give to thee
One hour again;
The past is not for me,
It burns my brain.
Thy haunts are treasuries now
I may not see;
Dark cypress binds my brow,
The willow tree.
And yet I linger here,
With thee would stay;
Thy shrine! receive my tear,
My parting lay.
Time wings his flight along
O'er memory's glass;
Years given to mirth and song
Too quickly pass.
Few—few—how few my lot!
Like early flowers,
Which blow and are forgot
Mid summer bowers.
My infant hopes and joys,
Too bright—too brief—
I flung with childhood's toys,
To nurse my grief.
And what my riper years—
An aching breast,
Cradled by hopes and fears,
Still asking rest.
Farewell!—a long farewell!
Pale thought,—we part—
Oblivion's waters swell
Around my heart.
poem by Edward Henry Bickersteth
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To My Brooklet. (From The French Of Ducis)
Thou brooklet, all unknown to song,
Hid in the covert of the wood!
Ah, yes, like thee I fear the throng,
Like thee I love the solitude.
O brooklet, let my sorrows past
Lie all forgotten in their graves,
Till in my thoughts remain at last
Only thy peace, thy flowers, thy waves.
The lily by thy margin waits;--
The nightingale, the marguerite;
In shadow here he meditates
His nest, his love, his music sweet.
Near thee the self-collected soul
Knows naught of error or of crime;
Thy waters, murmuring as they roll,
Transform his musings into rhyme.
Ah, when, on bright autumnal eves,
Pursuing still thy course, shall I
Lisp the soft shudder of the leaves,
And hear the lapwing's plaintive cry?
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Chocolate Soul
As the day begins the dreams reveal
The night before was a unconscious feel
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving more time to heal
Tears don't necessary lend a hand
The exotic points are about to extend
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving more time to heal
Knowing that hi points touch the thighs
Leaving the feeling of passion within your eyes
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving more time to heal
Touching your skin beyond ectasy
Is Breathtaking enough to calm the seas
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
Piercing eyes creep through the pane
Embarrassment captures your every saying
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
Once more you catch your breath
The feeling of euphoria is beyond wealth
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
Once more you catch your breath
Passion and Envy are tied up in self
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
Finally the day has end
Remember to touch, feel and speak
Encounters the moments of the soul being weak
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
Once more you catch your breath
The shivers are a response of something else
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
The moral of the story may seem unclear
Come closer to me and never fear
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
poem by Natasha McGee
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Oh! Had We Some Bright Little Isle of Our Own
Oh! had we some bright little isle of our own,
In a blue summer ocean, far off and alone,
Where a leaf never dies in the still blooming bowers,
And the bee banquets on through a whole year of flowers;
Where the sun loves to pause
With so fond a delay,
That the night only draws
A thin veil o'er the day;
Where simply to feel that we breathe, that we live,
Is worth the best joy that life elsewhere can give.
There with souls ever ardent and pure as the clime,
We should love, as they loved in the first golden time;
The glow of the sunshine, the balm of the air,
Would steal to our hearts, and make all summer there.
With affection as free
From decline as the bowers,
And, with hope, like the bee,
Living always on flowers,
Our life should resemble a long day of light,
And our death come on, holy and calm as the night.
poem by Thomas Moore
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Moon-Light
COME, gentle muse! now all is calm,
The dew descends, the air is balm;
Unruffled is the glassy deep,
While moon-beams o'er its bosom sleep;
The gale of summer mildly blows,
The wave in soothing murmur flows;
Unclouded Vesper shines on high,
And ev'ry flow'r has clos'd its tearful eye.
Oh! at this hour, this placid hour,
Soft music, wake thy magic pow'r!
Be mine to hear thy dulcet measure,
Thy warbling strains, that whisper, pleasure;
Thy heavenly airs, of cadence dying,
And harp to every zephyr sighing;
When roving by the shadowy beam,
That gilds the fairy-bow'r and woodland-stream!
But all is still! no mellow sound
Floats on the breeze of night around ;
Yet fancy, with some airy spell,
Can wake 'sweet Echo' from her cell;
Can charm her pensive votary's ear,
With plaintive numbers melting near;
And bid celestial spirits rise,
To pour their wild, enchanted melodies.
I love the rosy dawn of day,
When Zephyr wakes the laughing May;
I love the summer-evening's close,
That lulls the mind in calm repose;
But sweeter far the hour serene,
When softer colours paint the scene;
When Vesper sheds a dewy ray,
And o'er the sleeping wave the moon-beams play.
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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She Is Beauty's Soul
She is the lovely princess of all beauty there,
She is the reigning queen of all charms there;
Bright she looks, as fragrant white jasmine,
Of everlasting fragrance of gentle sweet smile.
Like sunshine of dawn of rising Sun she is,
Calm and pleasant, and stirs grand hopes;
She is godly spell of divine benevolence,
Goddess on throne, she radiates reverence.
She is dazzling halo of beauty's lasting spell,
Of its cosmic depth and its celestial scale;
Shock of contentment, she spills and fills around,
And subtle joy pervades in her sweet presence,
Elegant are her moves, soothing, her words,
Like the fullmoon light, she flows thro' hearts;
It's soothing love desires, uncanny sweet dreams
She inspires in soul by her lovely radiant look.
Bright are her eyes like the Sun in twain,
Profulgent of sunshine in lily-like white,
Or is it jasmine white liquesced as her eyes,
Spotless and clear, but gentle to look at.
What is true beauty, you know by her look;
She is beauty's soul, liquesced and instilled;
Her curves and shapes, gestalt and tones
Perfect in bearing, and perfect proportions.
Fluid is her beauty, deeply imbrued in nectar,
Spills divine spells wherever you look at her;
Lighted lamp, her beauty, sacred, low, slow,
Spreading pleasant light, ceaseless for aeons.
Peace in elegance is infused in her face,
Warm smile is her mark, like shine in eyes;
Silence is her front, humility is her wealth,
Gentle at her core, she mingles with all.
She is unclouded beauty, bright always,
Blossoming like flower, full of fragrance;
Pure like morning dew, she is spotless,
She is beauty's essence, extracted, instilled.
Her smile is honey milk flowing all the way,
Her smile is rose blossoming with nectar;
Twinkles in her eyes is full of dreams,
That spur her worlds to drench in colours.
She is live orchestra of rhymes and rhythms,
She is godly melody from the finest chords,
Those lines and curves in concinnity with soul
That ring live harmony and hatch that beauty.
Like fragrant flame of camphor and sandal paste,
Pleasantly mild and gentle and soothing she is;
Like milk and honey, and the nature's grand rhythms,
She is the innate harmony of beauty and charm.
She is gentle passions wrapped in concinnity,
She is selfless love liquesced in her soul,
She is sacred light that scatters darkness,
She bestows true peace and contentment on me.
She is beauty's beauty for all shapes and forms,
She makes beauty, beauty, and lights joy from it;
She is beauty's soul, its sanctum sanctorum,
Its essence, its light, spring of my happiness.
Priya is my spell of divine happiness,
Priya is my fount of beauty in the world,
And beauty is the fount that springs happiness,
Happiness is the root that sprouts all beauty.
poem by Praveen Kumar
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Consummation
(1967) nina simone
And now we are one
Let my soul rest in peace
At last it is done
My soul has been released
For thousands of years
My soul has roamed the earth
In search for you
So that someday I could give birth
To know joy, joy, joy, joy
Joy and peace is mine
Peace divine
And now we give thanks
Give thanks for each other
At peace forever
For it is done
At peace forever
For we are one
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Written at Tivoli Falls
Sweet Tivoli! upon thy grassy side,
Whene'er I linger through the summer day,
And the soft music of thy silvery tide
So sweetly wiles the lagging hours away,
I cannot deem but thou are e'en as fair
As that Italian vale whose name thy waters bear.
O'er the old rocks thou boundest on thy way,
and wood, and glen, re-echo to thy song;
And then thy waters, weary of their play,
Through the long grass glide silently along,
So slow, and calm, as scarce to break the rest
Of the young flowers that sleep upon thy placid breast.
And sure no flowers are lovelier than these
That bloom so sweetly on thy grassy side,
And none more fair than the young forest trees,
That bathe their branches in thy crystal tide;
No sounds are sweeter than the winds at play
Amid these trembling pines at close of summer day.
Here by thy side I cannot feel alone;
Above my head the sheltering branches bend,
And at my feet the flowers; and thy low tone
Breathes softly in my ear, and, like a friend
Soothing my spirit, comes the perfumed air,
To kiss my fevered brow and play amid my hair.
Oh! when I turn me from the busy throng,
Chilled with their frozen words and heartless smiles,
I wander here, and thy melodious song,
And this sweet scene, my sadder mood beguiles;
And when I mingle with the crowd again,
More calm and holy thoughts flow through my burning brain.
Oft as I wander in these shadowy groves
My wayward fancy spreads her truant wing,
And through the past delightedly she roves,
From its recesses many a scene to bring
Of that far time, when, 'mid the deepening shade,
The Indian lover wooed, and won, his dusky maid.
And then she bears me on through future years,
When her frail prison will have passed away,
And she will look, with eyes undimmed by tears,
Upon the glories of a brighter day;
And still thy waves will glide as soft along;
And still thy praise be sung in many a sweeter song.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Milkmaid's Song
Turn, turn, for my cheeks they burn,
Turn by the dale, my Harry!
Fill pail, fill pail,
He has turned by the dale,
And there by the stile waits Harry.
Fill, fill,
Fill, pail, fill,
For there by the stile waits Harry!
The world may go round, the world may stand still
But I can milk and marry,
Fill pail,
I can milk and marry.
Wheugh, wheugh!
O, if we two
Stood down there now by the water,
I know who'd carry me over the ford
As brave as a soldier, as proud as a lord,
Though I don't live over the water.
Wheugh, wheugh! he's whistling through,
He's whistling 'The Farmer's Daugher.'
Give down, give down,
My crumpled brown!
He shall not take the road to the town,
For I'll meet him beyond the water.
Give down, give down,
My crumpled brown!
And send me to my Harry.
The folk o' towns
May have silken gowns,
But I can milk and marry,
Fill pail,
I can milk and marry.
Wheugh, wheugh! he has whistled through
He has whistled through the water.
Fill, fill, with a will, a will,
For he's whistled through the water,
And he's whistling down
The way to the town,
And it's not 'The Farmer's Daughter!'
Churr, churr! goes the cockchafer,
The sun sets over the water,
Churr, churr! goes the cockchafer,
I'm too late for my Harry!
And, O, if he goes a-soldiering,
The cows they may low, the bells they may ring,
But I'll neither milk nor marry,
Fill pail,
Neither milk nor marry.
My brow beats on thy flank, Fill pail,
Give down, good wench, give down!
I know the primrose bank, Fill pail,
Between him and the town.
Give down, good wench, give down, Fill pail,
And he shall not reach the town!
Strain, strain! he's whistling again,
He's nearer by half a mile.
More, more! O, never before
Were you such a weary while!
Fill, fill! he's crossed the hill,
I can see him down by the stile,
He's passed the hay, he's coming this way,
He's coming to me, my Harry!
Give silken gowns to the folk o' towns,
He's coming to me, my Harry!
That she walks to-night with Harry!
Come late, come soon, come sun, come moon,
O, I can milk and marry,
Fill pail,
I can milk and marry.
Wheugh, wheugh! he has whistled through,
My Harry! my lad! my lover!
Set the sun and fall the dew,
Heigh-ho, merry world, what's to do
That you're smiling over and over?
Upon the hill and down in the dale,
And along the tree-tops over the vale
Shining over and over,
Low in the grass and high on the bough,
Shining over and over,
O world, have you ever a lover!
You were so dull and cold just now,
O world, have you ever a lover?
I could not see a leaf on the tree,
And now I could count them, one, two, three,
Count them over and over,
Leaf from leaf like lips apart,
Like lips apart for a lover.
And the hillside beats with my beating heart,
And the apple-tree blushes all over,
And the May bough touched me and made me start,
And the wind breathes warm like a lover.
Pull, pull! and the pail is full,
And milking's done and over,
Who would not sit here under the tree?
What a fair fair thing's a green field to see!
Brim, brim, to the rim, ah me!
I have set my pail on the daisies!
It seems so light, - can the sun be set?
The dews must be heavy, my cheeks are wet.
I could cry to have hurt the daisies!
Harry is near, Harry is near,
My heart's as sick as if he were here,
My lips are burning, my cheeks are wet,
He hasn't uttered a word as yet,
But the air's astir with his praises.
My Harry!
The air's astir with your praises.
He has scaled the rock by the pixy's stone,
He's among the kingcups, - he picks me one,
I love the grass that I tread upon
When I go to my Harry!
He has jumped the brook, he has climbed the knowe,
There's never a faster foot I know,
But still he seems to tarry.
O Harry! On Harry! my love, my pride,
My heart is leaping, my arms are wide!
Roll up, roll up, you dull hillside,
Roll up, and bring my Harry!
They may talk of glory over the sea,
But Harry's alive, and Harry's for me,
My love, my lad, my Harry!
Come spring, come winter, come sun, come snow,
What cares Dolly, whether or no,
While I can milk and marry?
Right or wrong, and wrong or right,
Quarrel who quarrel, and fight who fight,
But I'll bring my pail home every night
To love, and home, and Harry!
We'll drink our can, we'll eat our cake,
There's beer in the barrel, there's bread in the bake,
The world may sleep, the world may wake,
But I shall milk and marry,
And marry,
I shall milk and marry.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Lost The Calm Of My Poem and The Peace Of My Soul
I lost the calm of my poem and the peace of my soul
When I heard murderers would go free
And those who had deliberately killed women and children
Would torment yet again their victims’ families-
I lost the calm and the peace of my soul
When I learned that we had forsaken our principles of Justice
And given in to blackmail to ransom a single life -
I lost the calm of my poem and the peace of my soul
When I understand one can be too kind and too compassionate
And that those ‘kind to the cruel’ end up being ‘cruel to the kind’
I lost the calm of my poem and the peace of my soul
When I understood we as a people had ceased to be wise and courageous-
And given in to our own excessive sense of compassion and to the cruelty of the cruel.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sonnet XXXI.
Written on Farm Wood, South Downs, May 1784.
SPRING'S dewy hand on this fair summit weaves
The downy grass, with tufts of Alpine flowers,
And shades the beechen slopes with tender leaves,
And leads the shepherd to his upland bowers,
Strewn with wild thyme; while slow-descending showers
Feed the green ear, and nurse the future sheaves.
--Ah, blest the hind--whom no sad thought bereaves
Of the gay Season's pleasures!--All his hours
To wholesome labour given, or thoughtless mirth;
No pangs of sorrow past, or coming dread,
Bend his unconscious spirit down to earth,
Or chase calm slumbers from his careless head!
Ah, what to me can those dear days restore,
When scenes could charm that now I taste no more!
poem by Charlotte Smith
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Averil
I love thee, April! for thou art the Spring
When Spring is Summer; and thy wayward showers,
Sudden and short, soothly do bring May flowers,
Thus making thee a harbinger, whose wing
Bright jewels, Nature's rarest choice, doth fling
O'er dewy-glistening brakes and banks and bowers,
To ravish loving eyes through longer hours
When Winter is a dead forgotten thing.
Such promise dost thou give of Summer bloom;--
But thine own sunshine hast thou, thine own light;
And fair are April flowers, April leaves--
Fairer to eyes aching from Winter's gloom
Than late-blown joys of May, that greet the sight
When drunk with gladness it from thee receives.
poem by Thomas MacDonagh
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A Dream Of Death
WHERE shall we sail to-day?'--Thus said, methought,
A voice that only could be heard in dreams:
And on we glided without mast or oar,
A wondrous boat upon a wondrous sea.
Sudden, the shore curved inward to a bay,
Broad, calm, with gorgeous sea-weeds waving slow
Beneath the water, like rich thoughts that stir
In the mysterious deep of poets' hearts.
So still, so fair, so rosy in the dawn
Lay that bright bay: yet something seemed to breath,
Or in the air, or from the whispering waves,
Or from that voice, as near as one's own soul,
'There was a wreck last night.' A wreck? then where
The ship, the crew?--The all-entombing sea
On which is writ nor name nor chronicle
Laid itself o'er them with smooth crystal smile.
'Yet was the wreck last night.'. And gazing down
Deep down below the surface, we were ware
Of ghastly faces with their open eyes
Uplooking to the dawn they could not see.
One moved with moving sea-weeds: one lay prone,
The tinted fishes gliding o'er his breast;
One, caught by floating hair, rocked quietly
Upon his reedy cradle, like a child.
'The wreck has been'--said the melodious voice,
'Yet all is peace. The dead, that, while we slept,
Struggled for life, now sleep and fear no storms:
O'er them let us not weep when heaven smiles.'
So we sailed on above the diamond sands,
Bright sea-flowers, and white faces stony calm,
Till the waves bore us to the open main,
And the great sun arose upon the world.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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