Supplication
I am so tired and weary,
So tired of the endless fight,
So weary of waiting the dawn
And finding endless night.
That I ask but rest and quiet--
Rest for days that are gone,
And quiet for the little space
That I must journey on.
poem by Joseph Seamon Cotter
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Related quotes
Villanelle
Come hither, child, and rest,
This is the end of day,
Behold the weary West!
Sleep rounds with equal zest
Man's toil and children's play,
Come hither, child, and rest.
My white bird, seek thy nest,
Thy drooping head down lay,
Behold the weary West!
Now eve is manifest
And homeward lies our way,
Behold the weary West!
Tired flower! upon my breast
I would wear thee alway,
Come hither, child, and rest -
Behold the weary West!
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Villanelle Of Sunset
Come hither, child, and rest,
This is the end of day,
Behold the weary West!
Sleep rounds with equal zest
Man's toil and children's play,
Come hither, child, and rest.
My white bird, seek thy nest,
Thy drooping head down lay,
Behold the weary West!
Now eve is manifest
And homeward lies our way,
Behold the weary West!
Tired flower! upon my breast
I would wear thee alway,
Come hither, child, and rest -
Behold the weary West!
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Waiting
The sun has slipped his tether
And galloped down the west.
(Oh, it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
The little bird is sleeping
In the softness of its nest.
Night follows day, day follows dawn,
And so the time has come and gone:
And it's weary, weary waiting, love.
The cruel wind is rising
With a whistle and a wail.
(And it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
My eyes are seaward straining
For the coming of a sail;
But void the sea, and void the beach
Far and beyond where gaze can reach!
And it's weary, weary waiting, love.
I heard the bell-buoy ringing--
How long ago it seems!
(Oh, it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
And ever still, its knelling
Crashes in upon my dreams.
The banns were read, my frock was sewn;
Since then two seasons' winds have blown--
And it's weary, weary waiting, love.
The stretches of the ocean
Are bare and bleak to-day.
(Oh, it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
My eyes are growing dimmer--
Is it tears, or age, or spray?
But I will stay till you come home.
Strange ships come in across the foam!
But it's weary, weary waiting, love.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Tired Worker
O whisper, O my soul! The afternoon
Is waning into evening, whisper soft!
Peace, O my rebel heart! for soon the moon
From out its misty veil will swing aloft!
Be patient, weary body, soon the night
Will wrap thee gently in her sable sheet,
And with a leaden sigh thou wilt invite
To rest thy tired hands and aching feet.
The wretched day was theirs, the night is mine;
Come tender sleep, and fold me to thy breast.
But what steals out the gray clouds like red wine?
O dawn! O dreaded dawn! O let me rest
Weary my veins, my brain, my life! Have pity!
No! Once again the harsh, the ugly city.
poem by Claude McKay
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Tired
(toby keith/chuck cannon)
My name is jackson, I was named after my father
Followed in his footsteps, down here to this factory
I aint complainin, wouldnt waste my breath to bother
This work aint hard, its only borin as can be
Married rebecca back in seventy-seven
I still love her and I guess she loves me too
We go to church on sundays cause we want to go to heaven
Me and my family, aint that how youre supposed to do
But Im tired, lord Im tired
Life is wearin me smooth down to the bone
No rest for the weary, ya just move on
Tired, lord Im tired
Ive only missed six days in nigh on twenty years o work
The money went to taxes and these bills Ive paid on time
The raise I got two months ago dont meet the cost o living
Selling my body for these nickels and these dimes
The smell of beckys coffee rolled me out of bed this morning
I showered and shaved and dressed and pulled my work boots on
Walked in the kitchen, she was starin out the window
The way she said good morning made me ask is something wrong
She said Im tired, woke up tired
Life is wearin me smooth down to the bone
No rest for the weary, ya just move on
I guess you just keep goin till your gone
Tired, lord Im tired
Tired, lord Im tired
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tired Of Waiting
tired of waiting
I've been waiting up all night
tired of waiting
I've been waiting since midnight
tired of waiting
just to give you an insight
tired of waiting
I've half a mind to walk away
and half a mind to stay
I'm tired of waiting
I'm tired of the lies, baby
too many broken promises
am I the only one who cares
I must be dreaming
are you for real today
oh, look at the bed we made
woe-betide the friends that I betrayed
god only knows the price I paid
you can't imagine
I gave you time and space
but love still leaves you cold, no time to waste
let me be your saving grace
I'm tired of waiting
alright
tired of waiting
hate to see you so uptight
tired of waiting
let me give you an insight
tired of waiting
with the benefit of hindsight
tired of waiting
when your father ran away to sea
he was running to be free
I know the feeling
'cause you put the hurt on me
I try so hard to compensate
all you do is make me wait
times are changing
you can lean on me
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Weary
Weary, sometimes I get so weary.
I lay myself right down.
I wonder why I get weary?
The feeling makes me frown.
I just don'; t like it.
It makes me mad.
I take for granted
that what I had
should not be missing now.
And yet I sense somehow
that all the living I have done
has made me tired. It's like a ton,
a heavy, heavy weight I feel
that challenges me to take a rest
and challenges me to do what's best
and stop worrying about
getting weary.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Midsummer Night
Mother of balms and soothings manifold,
Quiet-breathed night whose brooding hours are seven,
To whom the voices of all rest are given,
And those few stars whose scattered names are told,
Far off beyond the westward hills outrolled,
Darker than thou, more still, more dreamy even,
The golden moon leans in the dusky heaven,
And under the one star-a point of gold:
And all go slowly lingering toward the west,
As we go down forgetfully to our rest,
Weary of daytime, tired of noise and light:
Ah, it was time that thou should'st come; for we
Were sore athirst, and had great need of thee,
Thou sweet physician, balmy-blossomed night.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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If All the Skies
If all the skies were sunshine,
Our faces would be fain
To feel once more upon them
The cooling splash of rain.
If all the world were music,
Our hearts would often long
For one sweet strain of silence,
To break the endless song.
If life were always merry,
Our souls would seek relief,
And rest from weary laughter
In the quiet arms of grief.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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Weary
WEARY of the ceaseless war
Beating down the baffled soul,—
Thoughts that like a scimitar
Smite us fainting at the goal.
Weary of the joys that pain—
Dead sea fruits whose ashes fall,
Drying up the summer’s rain—
Charnel dust in cups of gall!
Weary of the hopes that fail,
Leading from the narrow way,
Tempting strength to actions frail—
Hand to err, and foot to stray.
Weary of the battling throng,
False and true in mingled fight;
Weary of the wail of wrong,
And the yearning for the night!
Weary, weary, weary Heart!
Lacerated, crush’d and dumb.
None to know thee as thou art!
When will rest unbroken come?
poem by Sir Henry Parkes
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Raison D'Etre
O WEARY night, O weary day,
When heart's delight is far away!
What is the day? A frame of blue
The vacant-glaring sun grins through.
What is the night? A sable veil
Through which the moon peers tired and pale.
O weary day! O weary night!
How far away is heart's delight!
Love hung the sun in his high place
To give me light to see her face,
And love spread out the veil of night
To hide us two from all men's sight.
O kindly night, O pleasant day,
Your use is gone--why should ye stay?
My heart's delight is far away,
O weary night, O weary day.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Waiting In The Wings
(andy hill/pete sinfield)
I need you like freedom
I feel you like rain
I see you like silver rails across an endless plain
And I know there are moments
You feel as I do
Thats why Im waiting for you
This time around I wont push for an answer
Both of us need to be sure
To be strong
When the moment comes
Ill be your dancer
Ill be your singer
And your song
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting
Waiting in the wings
Waiting in the wings
A natural dreamer
A maverick soul
How close can I be to you
And still not lose control?
And as close as the ocean
As near as the sky
As near as the tears I dont cry
Maybe a fool has been drowned in a vision
Hung up to dry in the teeth of the wind
Believing in the truth of your decisions
Thats all there is until the end
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting. Ill be waiting
Waiting in the wings
Ill be waiting
Ill be waiting
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting
Waiting in the wings
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting
Waiting in the wings
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting
Waiting in the wings
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Sleepy Man Comes
When the Sleepy Man comes with the dust on his eyes,
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
He shuts up the earth, and he opens the skies.
(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)
He smiles through his fingers, and shuts up the sun;
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
The stars that he loves he lets out one by one.
(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)
He comes from the castles of Drowsy-boy Town;
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
At the touch of his hand the tired eyelids fall down.
(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)
He comes with a murmur of dream in his wings;
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
And whispers of mermaids and wonderful things.
(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)
Then the top is a burden, the bugle a bane;
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
When one would be faring down Dream-a-way Lane.
(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)
When one would be wending in Lullaby Wherry,
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
To Sleepy Man's Castle, by Comforting Ferry.
(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)
poem by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
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It's Your Soul
I'm feeling the stress
I'm feeling the pressure
It's setting in
It's breaking me down
I don't know how much longer I can take it
I don't know how much more I can take
I'm seeing the end of myself
I'm seeing that this is all I got
Man I'm depressed
Man I cant do this
I'd never say it out loud, but this is too much
My friend are great they help me forget
I turn to my sins, to my addictions
It's turning me into an empty person
This pressure will break me
I won't say it out loud but I can't take it anymore
I won't say it out loud but this is true horror
I dress it up, I put on a smile, I deaden the pain for awhile
But it's all an act
The pain is quite real
I say I'm tired
And yeah I got no rest
I say I'm sleep deprived, and believe me I don't sleep
But even in my quiet hours...
There is no peace
I say I'm sleep deprived, but it doesn't matter how much I sleep
I'm still tired
It's a never ending tiredness
The feeling is wearing me out
Wearing me out
Until I'm just
Weary
There is no sleep in sleeping
There is no rest and resting
I can't find peace in inner peace
I can't find peace in outer peace
A vacation won't do
So I tell you
It's your soul
The tiredness
It's your soul
The weariness
It's your soul
The depression and longing for more
It's your soul
The brokenness and stress
It's your soul
Feeling like you can't do it
It's your soul
Feeling overwhelmed because it's all too much to handle
It's your soul
The reason you're restless even in times of rest is because
It's your soul
The tiredness and brokenness is in your soul
So let go for once
So let God for once
This problem is deep inside
And no matter how hard you try to hide
You need help
Because it's your soul
So let Jesus restore your soul, because that's rest
So let God give you peace, because He's the only one who can
So let the Holy Spirit comfort you, because He'll mend your soul
It's funny that we always look forward to this vacation or the next
It's funny that we think there's an end to the stress
It's funny that we think we're tired because we don't sleep
It's funny we don't realize we're lost sheep
Because the problem is our soul
Go to Jesus because He promises
'Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden with burden and I will give you rest...'
poem by David Knox
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Death, To The Dead For Evermore
DEATH, to the dead for evermore
A King, a God, the last, the best of friends -
Whene'er this mortal journey ends
Death, like a host, comes smiling to the door;
Smiling, he greets us, on that tranquil shore
Where neither piping bird nor peeping dawn
Disturbs the eternal sleep,
But in the stillness far withdrawn
Our dreamless rest for evermore we keep.
For as from open windows forth we peep
Upon the night-time star beset
And with dews for ever wet;
So from this garish life the spirit peers;
And lo! as a sleeping city death outspread,
Where breathe the sleepers evenly; and lo!
After the loud wars, triumphs, trumpets, tears
And clamour of man's passion, Death appears,
And we must rise and go.
Soon are eyes tired with sunshine; soon the ears
Weary of utterance, seeing all is said;
Soon, racked by hopes and fears,
The all-pondering, all-contriving head,
Weary with all things, wearies of the years;
And our sad spirits turn toward the dead;
And the tired child, the body, longs for bed.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Dead Shells
not at all times that we stay on the deep
portion of the river we get tired sometimes
our limbs soft and weary we long for a little rest
a place where there is only foam and bubbles
and the sand and pebbles touching our pelvic bones.
there. On the shallow waters we rest our weary souls.
No thoughts. Just descriptions.
No descriptions. Just silence.
No silence. Just a driftwood.
No feelings at all. Numb and dumb.
Dry leaf buried on the sound. Dead shells.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No Rest for the Weary
No Rest for the Weary
By: Adam M. Snow
There's no rest for the weary;
all those times we were dreary;
and agony suffers evermore.
We are swallowed by time;
wanting to die;
all from tormented prime;
and the tears we've shed evermore.
We are weak, bounded by fate;
surrounded by, no love but hate.
There's no dream for the weary;
and all around the night grew eerie.
The sun falls in an endless abyss;
followed by all hope and bliss.
With nightmare following by;
we cannot help but to cry.
As Poe's raven cries nevermore;
we become more like a withered rose;
growing out of an open door.
There's no end for the weary;
as we see death even clearly.
We raise the gauntlet of raw;
to our suffering and flaw;
followed by our agony and tide;
to those who's trying to hide.
There's no rest for the weary;
as we ponder all that is leery.
We've been swallowed by lies;
in this time of demise;
being left dead but alive;
in this abode for peace;
nevermore will it cease;
in the minds of all;
as we continue to fall.
There's no hope for the weary;
with eyes so teary;
as we weep what we sow;
with our fears we bestow.
Now taint is our soul;
as we lie, buried in this hole.
With hearts full of dread;
we try to be one with the dead;
only to suffer more.
Now with uncaring eyes;
tormented and scorn;
we despise our demise;
and brake free evermore.
There's no time for the weary;
and those who are deary;
only to be tormented by glee.
We're not broken yet we cannot see;
our life beyond this narrow pass;
trapped behind the looking glass.
The mourners gathered to your delight;
to welcome your tormented night;
and by the moon the reaper weary;
as we lay to rest this time so dreary.
Go on now my wayward son;
and be free from all we've done.
Cut all your strings;
spread your new found wings;
and soar into the sky anew.
You're no longer weary;
no longer dreary;
now that you are free.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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The tired mind
The tired mind
~
The tired mind bemoans a weary traveller
Far too old in the day as night time falls
Dust laden boots kicked to the dirt
An aching body laid down to sleep
While memories continue to stir
Unavoidable to a weathered thought
The onset of a life’s adventures
The romances won and lost
The unknown of what is still to come
A day hence shall be revealed
For now fear and anticipation linger
A tired mind plays on trivial questions
Labouring to forget and to sleep
Heavy set eyes look out into nothing
Into the night the ending of the day
Old and late the hour has come
For a weary traveller to say goodnight
And for a tired mind to be done
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Rest
WE are so tired, my heart and I.
Of all things here beneath the sky
One only thing would please us best--
Endless, unfathomable rest.
We are so tired; we ask no more
Than just to slip out by Life's door;
And leave behind the noisy rout
And everlasting turn about.
Once it seemed well to run on too
With her importunate, fevered crew,
And snatch amid the frantic strife
Some morsel from the board of life.
But we are tired. At Life's crude hands
We ask no gift she understands;
But kneel to him she hates to crave
The absolution of the grave.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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At Dawn
At dawn…
The time when I feel all alone
When everybody is asleep
And are still catching some zzzz’s
At dawn…
The hour when the place is quiet
When I’m almost dumb and deaf
And silence is all I can hear
At dawn…
The break when my mind’s unloaded
When my body is free from pains
And my heart is filled with wonder
At dawn…
Each day with a date with God
I spend this quiet time in grace
Thanking Him for the night that passed
At dawn…
I pray to our Almighty Lord above
Praising Him for who He is-
An awesome and wonderful God
At dawn…
I plead for His help so I could do
All the tasks that I have to make
At dawn, and for the rest of the day
poem by Rose de Ramar
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