My Triumph
The autumn-time has come;
On woods that dream of bloom,
And over purpling vines,
The low sun fainter shines.
The aster-flower is failing,
The hazel's gold is paling;
Yet overhead more near
The eternal stars appear!
And present gratitude
Insures the future's good,
And for the things I see
I trust the things to be;
That in the paths untrod,
And the long days of God,
My feet shall still be led,
My heart be comforted.
O living friends who love me!
O dear ones gone above me!
Careless of other fame,
I leave to you my name.
Hide it from idle praises,
Save it from evil phrases:
Why, when dear lips that spake it
Are dumb, should strangers wake it?
Let the thick curtain fall;
I better know than all
How little I have gained,
How vast the unattained.
Not by the page word-painted
Let life be banned or sainted:
Deeper than written scroll
The colors of the soul.
Sweeter than any sung
My songs that found no tongue;
Nobler than any fact
My wish that failed of act.
Others shall sing the song,
Others shall right the wrong, --
Finish what I begin,
And all I fail of win.
What matter, I or they?
Mine or another's day,
So the right word be said
And life the sweeter made?
Hail to the coming singers!
Hail to the brave light-bringers!
Forward I reach and share
All that they sing and dare.
The airs of heaven blow o'er me;
A glory shines before me
Of what mankind shall be, --
Pure, generous, brave, and free.
A dream of man and woman
Diviner but still human,
Solving the riddle old,
Shaping the Age of Gold!
The love of God and neighbor;
An equal-handed labor;
The richer life, where beauty
Walks hand in hand with duty.
Ring, bells in unreared steeples,
The joy of unborn peoples!
Sound, trumpets far off blown,
Your triumph is my own!
Parcel and part of all,
I keep the festival,
Fore-reach the good to be,
And share the victory.
I feel the earth move sunward,
I join the great march onward,
And take, by faith, while living,
My freehold of thanksgiving.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Related quotes
American Dream
American dream
American dream
American dream
I must surrender to my American dream
Please do not call me
There is a wedding ring on my ring
And I am building my American dream
I found an American soul mate to love
And to share my life and my American dream
I am getting married and settling down
Good bye single life
Love is the best thing I can give to the people who also share my American dream
Soul mate give me a kiss
And let's dream the American dream
I want my self, you, and every body else to be a part of this American
Dream
We are starting over with an American dream
What I lost before
It is not of any value to me any more
I can't replace it
But you are a part of me
And that is what matters the most
This American dream belong to us and every body else
My heart belongs to you my soul mate
Days will come and go
But I am here for you
We can make a difference when we claim the American dream
Maybe tommorow we will sail on a moon beam
My soul mate has blue eyes
Soul mate I ask no more than this
Please give me a warm kiss
Somewhere in the American dream roses will bloom
And ships will sail across the sea
Poets will write their poetry
Singers will sing in the boulevard cafes some love songs that touch Every body's heart
Flower girls will sell flowers in the streets of the American dream so
The man can buy some
Flowers for there girl friends and lovers if they have any
I can't let any body else steal our American dream
We must save this American dream for us and every body else
If you want to be a part of the American dream
You will have to be a good citizen of the American dream
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Hazel Blossoms
THE SUMMER warmth has left the sky,
The summer songs have died away;
And, withered, in the footpaths lie
The fallen leaves, but yesterday
With ruby and with topaz gay.
The grass is browning on the hills;
No pale, belated flowers recall
The astral fringes of the rills,
And drearily the dead vines fall,
Frost-blackened, from the roadside wall.
Yet through the gray and sombre wood,
Against the dusk of fir and pine,
Last of their floral sisterhood,
The hazel’s yellow blossoms shine,
The tawny gold of Afric’s mine!
Small beauty hath my unsung flower,
For spring to own or summer hail;
But, in the season’s saddest hour,
To skies that weep and winds that wail
Its glad surprisals never fail.
O days grown cold! O life grown old
No rose of June may bloom again;
But, like the hazel’s twisted gold,
Through early frost and latter rain
Shall hints of summer-time remain.
And as within the hazel’s bough
A gift of mystic virtue dwells,
That points to golden ores below,
And in dry desert places tells
Where flow unseen the cool, sweet wells,
So, in the wise Diviner’s hand,
Be mine the hazel’s grateful part
To feel, beneath a thirsty land,
The living waters thrill and start,
The beating of the rivulet’s heart!
Sufficeth me the gift to light
With latest bloom the dark, cold days;
To call some hidden spring to sight
That, in these dry and dusty ways,
Shall sing its pleasant song of praise.
O Love! the hazel-wand may fail,
But thou canst lend the surer spell,
That, passing over Baca’s vale,
Repeats the old-time miracle,
And makes the desert-land a well.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Thou Dost Not Know
Thou dost not know it! but to hear
One word of praise from thee,
There is no pain I would not bear,
No task too great for me.
My hands could tireless toil all day,
My feet could tireless run,
If at the close thy lips would say,
'Brave, noble heart, well done.'
* * * * *
Thou dost not know it! but to win
Approval from thine eyes,
My soul has conquered many a sin,
And conquering neared the skies.
And though the reward may not be given,
In all my earthly days,
I feel that after death, in heaven,
Thy lips will give me praise.
* * * * *
Thou dost not know, may never know,
That all I strive to be,
All things praiseworthy that I do,
I strive, and do, for thee.
And though I seldom see thy face,
Or touch thy hand, my friend,
Those meetings are the means of grace,
That help me to the end.
* * * * *
Thou dost not know that thy grand life
Has been my beacon light.
I aim to conquer in the strife,
That I may reach thy height.
I strive to live, so that my feet
May walk the fields most fair,
For the after-life, seems, oh! so sweet,
Because thou wilt be there.
* * * * *
Thou dost not know how brave and strong
A woman's heart can be.
But few could hide so well and long
What mine has hid from thee.
So well, that should this idyl chance
To meet thine eye, my friend,
Thou'd scan it with a careless glance,
Nor dream to whom 'twas penned.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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On An Engraving Of Hindoo Temples
LITTLE the present careth for the past,
Too little—'tis not well!
For careless ones we dwell
Beneath the mighty shadow it has cast.
Its blessings are around our daily path,
We share its mighty spoil,
We live on its great toil,
And yet how little gratitude it hath.
Look on these temples, they were as a shrine
From whence to the far north
The human mind went forth,
The moral sunshine of a world divine—
That inward world which maketh of our clay
Its temporary home;
From whence those lightnings come,
That kindle from a far and better day.
The light that is of heaven shone there the first
The elements of art,
Mankind's diviner part;
There was young science in its cradle nurst.
Mighty the legacies by mind bequeathed,
For glorious were its pains
Amid those giant fanes,
And mighty were the triumphs it achieved
A woman's triumph mid them is imprest
One who upon the scroll
Flung the creative soul,
Disdainful of life's flowers and of its rest.
Vast was the labour, vast the enterprise,
For she was of a race
Born to the lowest place,
Earth-insects, lacking wings whereon to rise.
How must that youthful cheek have lost its bloom,
How many a dream above
Of early hope and love
Must that young heart have closed on like a tomb.
Such throw life's flowers behind them, and aspire
To ask the stars their lore
And from each ancient store
Seek food to stay the mind's consuming fire.
Her triumph was complete and long, the chords
She struck are yet alive;
Not vainly did she strive
To leave her soul immortal on her words.
A great example has she left behind,
A lesson we should take,
Whose first task is to wake
The general wish to benefit our kind.
Our sword has swept o'er India; there remains
A nobler conquest far,
The mind's ethereal war,
That but subdues to civilize its plains.
Let us pay back the past, the debt we owe,
Let us around dispense
Light, hope, intelligence,
Till blessings track our steps where'er we go.
O England, thine be the deliverer's meed,
Be thy great empire known
By hearts made all thine own,
By thy free laws and thy immortal creed.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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The Temptation
YOU bring your love too late, dear, I have no love to buy it,
I spent my love on worthless toys, at fairs you do not know;
I am a bankrupt trader--dear eyes, do not deny it,
I could have bought your love, dear, but that was long ago.
My soul has left me widowed, my heart has made me orphan,
Leave me--all good things, dear, have left me--leave me too!
For here is ice no tears of yours, no smiles of yours can soften:
Leave me, leave me, leave me, I have no love for you!
I have no flowers to give you, they grow not in my garden;
I have no songs to sing you, my songs have all been sung;
I have no hope of heaven, no faith in any pardon,
I might have loved you once, dear, when I was good and young.
I will not steal, nor cheat you; take back the heart you lent me.
O God, whom I have outraged, now teach me how to pray,
That love come never again so near me to torment me,
Lest I be found less faithful than, by Thy grace, to-day.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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William Francis Bartlett
Oh, well may Essex sit forlorn
Beside her sea-blown shore;
Her well beloved, her noblest born,
Is hers in life no more!
No lapse of years can render less
Her memory's sacred claim;
No fountain of forgetfulness
Can wet the lips of Fame.
A grief alike to wound and heal,
A thought to soothe and pain,
The sad, sweet pride that mothers feel
To her must still remain.
Good men and true she has not lacked,
And brave men yet shall be;
The perfect flower, the crowning fact,
Of all her years was he!
As Galahad pure, as Merlin sage,
What worthier knight was found
To grace in Arthur's golden age
The fabled Table Round?
A voice, the battle's trumpet-note,
To welcome and restore;
A hand, that all unwilling smote,
To heal and build once more;
A soul of fire, a tender heart
Too warm for hate, he knew
The generous victor's graceful part
To sheathe the sword he drew.
When Earth, as if on evil dreams,
Looks back upon her wars,
And the white light of Christ outstreams
From the red disk of Mars,
His fame who led the stormy van
Of battle well may cease,
But never that which crowns the man
Whose victory was Peace.
Mourn, Essex, on thy sea-blown shore
Thy beautiful and brave,
Whose failing hand the olive bore,
Whose dying lips forgave!
Let age lament the youthful chief,
And tender eyes be dim;
The tears are more of joy than grief
That fall for one like him!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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The Careless Word
A WORD is ringing thro' my brain,
It was not meant to give me pain;
It had no tone to bid it stay,
When other things had past away;
It had no meaning more than all
Which in an idle hour fall:
It was when first the sound I heard
A lightly uttered, careless word.
That word--oh! it doth haunt me now,
In scenes of joy, in scenes of woe;
By night, by day, in sun or shade,
With the half smile that gently played
Reproachfully, and gave the sound
Eternal power thro' life to wound.
There is no voice I ever heard,
So deeply fix'd as that one word.
When in the laughing crowd some tone,
Like those whose joyous sound is gone,
Strikes on my ear, I shrink--for then
The careless word comes back again.
When all alone I sit and gaze
Upon the cheerful home-fire blaze,
Lo! freshly as when first 'twas heard,
Returns that lightly uttered word.
When dreams bring back the days of old;
With all that wishes could not hold;
And from my feverish couch I start
To press a shadow to my heart--
Amid its beating echoes, clear
That little word I seem to hear:
In vain I say, while it is heard,
Why weep?--'twas but a foolish word.
It comes--and with it come the tears,
The hopes, the joys of former years;
Forgotten smiles, forgotten looks,
Thick as dead leaves on autumn brooks,
And all as joyless, though they were
The brightest things life's spring could share.
Oh! would to God I ne'er had heard
That lightly uttered, careless word!
It was the first, the only one
Of those which lips for ever gone
Breathed in their love--which had for me
Rebuke of harshness at my glee:
And if those lips were here to say,
'Beloved, let it pass away,'
Ah! then, perchance--but I have heard
The last dear tone--the careless word!
Oh! ye who, meeting, sigh to part,
Whose words are treasures to some heart,
Deal gently, ere the dark days come,
When earth hath but for one a home;
Lest, musing o'er the past, like me,
They feel their hearts wrung bitterly,
And, heeding not what else they heard,
Dwell weeping on a careless word.
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Introit : V. Litany Of Beauty
Joy, if the Soul or aught immortal be,
How may this Beauty know mortality?
O Beauty, perfect child of Light,
Sempiternal spirit of delight!
White and set with gold like the gold of the night,
The gold of the stars in quiet weather,--
White and shapely and pure!--
O lily-flower from stain secure,
With life and virginity dying together!
One lily liveth so,
Liveth for ever unstained, immortal, a mystic flower:
Perfectly wrought its frame,
Gold inwrought and eternal white,
White more white than cold of the snow,
For never, never, near it came,
Never shall come till the end of all,
Hurtful thing in wind or shower,
Worm or stain or blight;
But ever, ever, gently fall
The dews elysian of years that flow
Where it doth live secure
In flawless comeliness mature,
Golden and white and pure.
In the fair far-shining glow
Of eternal and holy Light.
Beauty of earthly things
Wrought by God and with hands of men!
Beauty of Nature and Art,
Fashioned anew for each Time brings,
For each new soul and living heart!
Beauty of Beauty that fills the ken
Till the soul is swooning, faint with delight!
Beauty of human form and voice,
Of eyes and ears and lips!--
O golden hair and brow of white!--
Wine of Beauty that whoso sips
Doth die to a spirit free, and rejoice,
Living with God and living with men,
Rapt rejoice in eternal bliss,
Raising his face to meet the kiss
Of the Beauty seraphic he sees above
In figure of his love.
O Beauty of Wisdom unsought
That in trance to poet is taught,
Uttered in secret lay,
Singing the heart from earth away,
Cunning the soul from care to lure,--
O mystic lily, from stain and death secure,
Till the end of all to stay!
O shapely flower that must for ever endure!
O voice of God that every heart must hear!
O hymn of purest souls that dost unsphere
The ravished soul that hears! O white, white gem!
O rose that dost the senses drown in bliss!
No thought shall stay the wing, or stem
The song or win the heart to miss
Thy love, thy joy, thy rapture divine!
O Beauty, Beauty, ever thine
The soul, the heart, the brain,
To own three in a loud perpetual strain,
Shriller and sweeter than song of wine,
Than song of sorrow or love or war!
Beauty of heaven and sun and day,
Beauty of water and frost and star,
Beauty of dusk-tide, narrowing, grey!
Beauty of silver light,
Beauty of purple night,
Beauty of solemn breath,
Beauty of closèd eye, and sleep, and death!
Beauty of dawn and dew,
Beauty of morning peace,
Ever ancient and ever new,
Ever renewed till waking cease
Or sleep for ever, when loud the angel's word
Through all the world is heard!
Beauty of brute and bird,
Beauty of earthly creatures
Whose hearts by the hand of God are stirred!
Beauty of the soul,
Beauty informing forms and features,
Fairest to God's eye,--
Beauty that cannot fade or die
Though atoms to ruin roll!
Beauty of blinded Trust,
Led by the hand of God
To a heaven where Cherub hath never trod!
Austere Beauty of Truth
Lighting the way of the just!
Splendid Beauty of Youth
Staying when Youth is sped,
Living when Life is dead,
Burning in funeral dust!
The glory of form doth pale and pall,
Beauty endures to the end of all.
poem by Thomas MacDonagh
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Deeper And Deeper
Deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper
Sweeter and sweeter and sweeter and sweeter
Chorus:
I can't help falling in love
I fall deeper and deeper the further I go
Kisses sent from heaven above
They get sweeter and sweeter the more that I know
When you know the notes to sing
You can sing most anything
That's what my mama told me
Round and round and round you go
When you find love you'll always know
I let my father mold me
Bridge:
Daddy couldn't be all wrong
[Not gonna let you slip away
song performed by by Madonna from Greatest Hits Volume 2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eternal Prayer
This is my eternal prayer with god I do share
All my life I have searched for love
And prayed to you up above.
Love seems to take a turn, and the passion
In my heart does burn.
I see the beauties that you have created
Yet with my dream you have hesitated.
Is it that something special is coming my way?
Oh dear lord- to you I pray.
So many years have gone by- and as I see
Other lovers- I do sigh.
The passion in my heart is a eternal fire
As I seek someone to join this fire.
I feel like I’m a star up in the sky
Everyone can see the beauty, but it’s
Beyond their reach, as I search
For eternal loves peace.
Will I be that star in the sky, or can I be
Like mother earth, that everyone can see
My beauty and smell my fragrance
And touch the gentleness of my heart
And from their hands I will not part.
As the plants need water to live
I have so much love to give.
Let me be the water that touches their heart
So that it may grow, and from me they will know.
This is my eternal prayer that with the world I will share.
poem by Louis Rams
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Song Dream
She found the reason to dream
The impossible dream
She found the reason to smile again
She found the reason to sing the love songs to you
She found the reason to be happy again
She found the reason to start over by loving you and me
She has learned her lesson
And she would not be here today if it wasn’t for God
God forgave her once again
And gave her one more chance
The chance of a lifetime
Song dream
Is her song
The song she sings
Before she goes to sleep every night
Her life has turned around
It became better
She showed more respect and love to others
Love is the best gift you can give your boy friend
Love is putting your hand out to help your boy friend
Love is all the little things to put in to a dream
My heart is yours forever
It is a part of the dream
In her dream one night
She saw the ships
Sailing in the harbor
And you and her
Was sailing in this ship
The harbor so big and so beautiful
The song dream
Is her favorite song
She found dreaming to be peaceful and relaxing
When she sleeps
The song dream
She has more joy out of her life now
Than she did before
The song dream will never end
It is part of her life
Let’s sing along once more
The song of dream
Because that is her song
poem by Aldo Kraas
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What Do Poets Want With Gold?
What do poets want with gold,
Cringing slaves and cushioned ease;
Are not crusts and garments old
Better for their souls than these?
Gold is but the juggling rod
Of a false usurping god,
Graven long ago in hell
With a sombre stony spell,
Working in the world forever.
Hate is not so strong to sever
Beating human heart from heart.
Soul from soul we shrink and part,
And no longer hail each other
With the ancient name of brother
Give the simple poet gold,
And his song will die of cold.
He must walk with men that reel
On the rugged path, and feel
Every sacred soul that is
Beating very near to his.
Simple, human, careless, free,
As God made him, he must be:
For the sweetest song of bird
Is the hidden tenor heard
In the dusk, an even-flush,
From the forest's inner hush,
Of the simple hermit thrush.
What do poets want with love?
Flowers that shiver out of hand,
And the fervid fruits that prove
Only bitter broken sand?
Poets speak of passion best,
When their dreams are undistressed,
And the sweetest songs are sung,
E'er the inner heart is stung.
Let them dream; 'tis better so;
Ever dream, but never know.
If the their spirits once have drained
All that goblet crimson-stained,
Finding what they dreamed divine,
Only earthly sluggish wine,
Sooner will the warm lips pale,
And the flawless voices fail,
Sooner come the drooping wing,
And the afterdays that bring,
No such songs as did the spring.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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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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A Love Song
Why do people cry
When they hear the word goodbye
In a love song?
Tears are sure to fall
When you know they gave it all
In a love song.
Somehow two lovers get a chance
At a beautiful romance
And you wish it could be you.
'Cause everybody's needing
What the singers all are singing
In a love song.
It can tear you apart
'Cause a word can break a heart
In a love song.
They say all the things you feel
And they make it sound so real
In a love song.
It seems that everything they say
Is said in such a way
That we believe it's true.
'Cause everybody's needing
What the singers all are singing
In a love song.
Each of us know
There's no guarantee
We'll ever find love.
And in the songs that we share
The heartache is there
To remind us.
New love brings a thrill
And we know it always will
In a love song.
Happiness can leave
But it helps if we believe
In a love song.
There's a part of you and me
In every memory
That tells us who we are.
And everybody's needing.
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Funeral Song
Who will sing the funeral songs of mine?
O my dear heart
Think and observe all the elements
Than answers the question truly
Who will sing the songs of funeral for you?
Who will congratulate you on your ultimate success.
I sing the song of love,
The songs of my heart,
The ultimate pronounce for the sake of love.
Then who will sing the songs of my innocence heart
When all the songs of mine will stop for ever.
Lives comes, lives goes,
Death gives birth of new souls.
Behold the history of the love
The heart which processes the love
Acquire the immortality of heart.
Behold the history of love,
The heart which can love like those
Achieves the immortality of soul.
Only for the ability to worship the heart of love
Those can’t attain by any eternal senses.
Only the nominated, elected and selected souls
By the mercy of Heaven
Can have the power to love.
Love, earnestly love thy souls
And in return you will have the love.
The love will as sanctified as the love of you,
The love will concern with heart
As much as concern with your heart.
The heart will sing the funeral song for you,
The love will sing the love song for you,
The love will make you alive
In the mortal days of lives,
Worship your heart,
Remember your songs,
Nothing else nor the others
But only love, only love.
Only the love can survive you
After the thousands years of your death.
Though died, possesses a newer mortal life
I perceive the fact, I do perceive of fact.
The love will sing for you
I do confidently declare by the Lord’s name
The love will congratulate at your conquer
The love will sing the joyous song of your joy.
O love,
O the love,
I know, I hear and I behold.
The love,
The eco of love,
The alliteration of love.
I heed the echoes of love
From the origin of soul
To the present day of the life
From Adam to the computer.
I hear the echo,
I do hear the echo.
O the loving soul
Hold your ear in the air,
You also have the sound of the echo,
The sacred echo – love, love and love.
The love will sing the song for my funeral,
The love will congratulate me
With heartiest affection of love,
The love will remember me in the earth,
The love will give a newer birth of mine
After the death of my earthen form.
I do proud in this sense
I have the heart
And I have the potency,
The mighty Lord’s mercy
To love, to love earnestly.
The love, the ability to love,
This love will sing my funeral song
And alive me in this earth
Until the last day of the light of the sun.
I sing for this love,
I do sing for this love.
poem by Md. Moniruzzaman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Another Day For The Lord
Another day is over my dear friend with another tomorrow to come,
Sometimes I wish it all would end and The Lord would simply come.
For when Truth by men goes ignored the day becomes far from fun.
But I need to labor for The Lord until my time on this earth is done.
For I remember when I was blind and the Christians I used to mock.
And The Lord sent to me someone kind to help me known The Rock.
Now friend, I need to do my part and with love lend a helping hand.
Especially to one with an open heart in hope that they understand.
What a blessing that would be to see a friend or coworker change.
And hear them as they believe, say that I wasn’t really so strange.
That will mean one more voice lifting up The Lord’s Blessed Name.
And with this one eternal choice another life will never be the same.
Friend, how can anyone believe, if God’s Truth they haven’t heard?
And this Truth that we have received is God’s Eternal Living Word.
Beautiful are the feet of those, who preach to others His Good News.
That’s one more soul that God knows for The Kingdom He can use.
Together we can reach the world with The Gospel of God’s Grace,
With the blessed news to herald, that Jesus Christ died in our place.
Friend, if only faithful we can be, from this present day to the end,
Then Jesus will say to you and me, well done my dear faithful friend.
A Child's Laughter
ALL the bells of heaven may ring,
All the birds of heaven may sing,
All the wells on earth may spring,
All the winds on earth may bring
All sweet sounds together---
Sweeter far than all things heard,
Hand of harper, tone of bird,
Sound of woods at sundawn stirred,
Welling water's winsome word,
Wind in warm wan weather,
One thing yet there is, that none
Hearing ere its chime be done
Knows not well the sweetest one
Heard of man beneath the sun,
Hoped in heaven hereafter;
Soft and strong and loud and light,
Very sound of very light
Heard from morning's rosiest height,
When the soul of all delight
Fills a child's clear laughter.
Golden bells of welcome rolled
Never forth such notes, nor told
Hours so blithe in tones so bold,
As the radiant mouth of gold
Here that rings forth heaven.
If the golden-crested wren
Were a nightingale---why, then,
Something seen and heard of men
Might be half as sweet as when
Laughs a child of seven.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Leave-Taking
A Leave-Taking
Let us go hence, my songs; she will not hear.
Let us go hence together without fear;
Keep silence now, for singing?time is over,
And over all old things and all things dear.
She loves not you nor me as we all love her.
Yea, though we sang as angels in her ear,
She would not hear.
Let us rise up and part; she will not know.
Let us go seaward as the great winds go,
Full of blown sand and foam; what help is here?
There is no help, for all these things are so,
And all the world is bitter as a tear.
And how these things are, though ye strove to show,
She would not know.
Let us go home and hence; she will not weep.
We gave love many dreams and days to keep,
Flowers without scent, and fruits that would not grow,
Saying, `If thou wilt, thrust in thy sickle and reap.'
All is reaped now; no grass is left to mow;
And we that sowed, though all we fell on sleep,
She would not weep.
Let us go hence and rest; she will not love.
She shall not hear us if we sing hereof,
Nor see love's ways, how sore they are and steep.
Come hence, let be, lie still; it is enough.
Love is a barren sea, bitter and deep;
And though she saw all heaven in flower above,
She would not love.
Let us give up, go down; she will not care.
Though all the stars made gold of all the air,
And the sea moving saw before it move
One moon?flower making all the foam?flowers fair;
Though all those waves went over us, and drove
Deep down the stifling lips and drowning hair,
She would not care.
Let us go hence, go hence; she will not see.
Sing all once more together; surely she,
She too, remembering days and words that were,
Will turn a little toward us, sighing; but we,
We are hence, we are gone, as though we had not been there.
Nay, and though all men seeing had pity on me,
She would not see.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blessed By The Word
God blesses men with His Word, when The Living Truth is heard,
The hearts of eager men are spurred, at the reading of His Word.
Throughout His Word there is proof, of the Power of God’s Truth,
Even men who disdain The Truth, have seen His hand of reproof.
The Living Word is sharper than, a two-edged sword dear friend,
It changes the inner heart of men, leading many to a Godly end.
The Word of God can surely win, any heart that’s opposed in sin,
And The Word will change within, as you begin to walk with Him.
Friend no matter how you start, The Lord can change any heart,
Once you let Him in your heart, The Word of God will not depart.
The Word of God my dear friend, unlike the world will never end,
And all of eternity we will spend, with The Living Word my friend.
The Word of God changes your life, as you live for Jesus Christ,
Who gave Himself as a sacrifice, so men could have Eternal Life.
Christ is The Word my friend, although many didn’t comprehend,
When He came to dwell with men, coming down to be our friend.
You this day can have New Life, through The Lord Jesus Christ,
Who with His blood paid the price, as God’s redeeming sacrifice.
God will bless you for Eternity, believe in Christ and you will see,
When in The Word you believe, Eternal Life you will then receive.
(Copyright ©06/2006)