A Connaught Man (For Hugh Maguire)
Lord, when he shall come home from war,
Give him no pastures green,
But a wet wind and a soft wind
With reek of turf between.
Nor let Thy light shine overmuch
Lest that his soul should fret
For the grey mist and silver mist
That he will not forget.
Build him no pearl-white palaces
Nor gardens fair and fine,
Lest for his bare, far-stretching bogs
His home-sick heart should pine.
Not groves, nor any vermeil walks,
Nor flowery pastures pied,
But the great sweep of sky and land
And the hills at eventide.
Lord, when the men come from the war,
Give each man his desire!
Give him the soft wind and the rain
And the reek of the turf fire.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Related quotes
Grey
Is the morning dim and cloudy? Does the wind drift up the leaves?
Is there mist upon the mountains, where the sun shone yesterday?
Are the little song-birds silent? Is the sky all blurred and grey?
Does the rain fall, patter, patter, from the eaves?
Does your glass go down? And does your heart sink in the dreary lull?
Are the strings relax'd and limp, and do the soft notes whine and cry?
Has the damp got in and jarred the chords and spoil'd the melody?
Are you out of tune, belovèd? are you dull?
Has the chill wind found an entrance? Does it sigh and rustle there?
Is it drifting, not the dead leaves, but your dead hopes, all about?
Is it waking up your sorrow while your light is blotted out?
Does your heart seem sad and cold and full of care?
Are you listless and discouraged, dear? and does your life look grey?
Does there seem no use in trying? Does your work fall from your hand?
Would you give up the great riddle that's so hard to understand?
Oh, then, go you to your chamber straight, and pray.
Go and pray, and God will give you peace and comfort for your pain—
All the misty, dull confusion He will tenderly reform—
And the fire of His own Spirit, that shall make you dry and warm;
And your harp-strings shall be strung and tuned again.
Ay, the Lord will put the melody in your heart and soul anew;
So that, howsoe'er unskilled and rude the hands that touch the wires,
There shall come forth beautiful chords of faith and hope and high desires,
Only music that is deep and sweet and true.
Go and work,—the clouds will show the silver lining that's behind.
Go to squalid lanes and alleys, where grim want and sickness lurk;
Feed the hungry, soothe the suffering, tell the poor of Christ,—oh, work,
And you'll no more hear the rustling of the wind.
Then you'll no more hear the restless, hopeless sobbing over sin,
No more hear the earthly troubles crying, crying from the ground;
For the wings of guardian angels, they shall compass you around,
That the wind shall have no place to enter in.
Then, as wither'd leaves lie browning on the quiet grassy slopes,
As they sink in peaceful earth, and moulder with it as they die,
To help nurture precious seeds for coming summers— so shall lie,
Calm and still, your sorrowful memories and dead hopes.
O belovèd, work and wait! The sun will shine another day,
On a heart refresh'd, and strong, and green, and cool. The rain and gloom
Are to make the sap run quicker, give the flowers a deeper bloom—
We have need for both the golden and the grey.
poem by Ada Cambridge
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The Foggy Dew
A splendid place is London, with golden store,
For them that have the heart and hope and youth galore;
But mournful are its streets to me, I tell you true,
For I'm longing sore for Ireland in the foggy dew.
The sun he shines all day here, so fierce and fine,
With never a wisp of mist at all to dim his shine;
The sun he shines all day here from skies of blue:
He hides his face in Ireland in the foggy dew.
The maids go out to milking in the pastures gray,
The sky is green and golden at dawn of the day;
And in the deep-drenched meadows the hay lies new,
And the corn is turning yellow in the foggy dew.
Mavrone ! if I might feel now the dew on my face,
And the wind from the mountains in that remembered place,
I'd give the wealth of London, if mine it were to do,
And I'd travel home to Ireland and the foggy dew.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Indian Summer Sky
In the ocean
Cut, swim, deep the sky
Like there, I dont know why
In the forest, theres a clearing
I run there towards the light
Sky...
Its a blue sky
In the earth a hole dig deep, decide
If I could, I would
Up for air to swim against the tide
Hey, hey, hey
Up toward the sky
Its a blue sky
To lose along the way
The spark that set the flame
To flicker and to fade
On this the longest day
So wind blow through to my heart
So wind blow through my soul
So wind blow through to my heart
So wind blow through my soul
So wind blow through to my heart...
You give yourself to this the longest day
You give yourself, you give it all away
Two rivers run too deep
The seasons change and so do i
The light that strikes the tallest trees
Will light a way for i
Will light a way
Up toward the sky
Its a blue sky
To lose along the way
The spark that set the flame
To flicker and to fade
On this the longest day
So wind go through to my heart
So wind blow through my soul
So wind go through to my heart
So wind blow through my soul
So wind go through to my heart
So wind blow through my soul
So wind go through to my heart...
You give yourself to this the longest day
You give yourself, you give it all away
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost Children
Lord please watch over
All these lost children
Born to chase the hurricane
Please shine some light down
On those who wander
Filled with hunger and pain
Please raise the wind
For all those out sailing
On an ocean alone
Lord shine a light on
All these lost children
Far away from their home
Lord keep an eye on
All these lost children
Swept away in the wind
Please shine some light down
On all those travelin'
Lead them all home again
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild Montana Skies
This song appears on nine albums, and was first released on the its about time album, and has also been released on the greatest hits vol 3, changes, the very best of john denver (double cd),
Ry classics, the country roads collection and the rocky mountain collection albums. a live version also appears on the wildlife concert and the best of john denver live albums.
He was born in the bitterroot valley in the early morning rain
Wild geese over the water headin north and home again
Bringin a warm wind from the south
Bringin the first taste of the spring
His mother took him to her breast and softly she did sing
Oh montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
His mother died that summer and he never learned to cry
He never knew his father and he never did ask why
He never knew the answers that would make an easy way
But he learned to know the wilderness and to be a man that way
His mothers brother took him in to family and his home
Gave him a hand that he could lean on and a strength to call his own
And he learned to be a farmer and he learned to love the land
And he learned to read the seasons and he learned to make a stand
Oh montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
On the eve of his 21st birthday he set out on his own
He was 30 years and runnin when he found his way back home
Ridin a storm across the mountains and an aching in his heart
Said he came to turn the pages and to make a brand new start
Now he never told a story of the time that he was gone
Some say he was a lawyer, some say he was a john
There was somethin in the city that he said he couldnt breathe
And there was somethin in the country that he said he couldnt leave
Oh montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
Now some say he was crazy and theyre glad that he is gone
But some of us miss him and well try to carry on
Giving a voice to the forest, giving a voice to the dawn
Giving a voice to the wilderness and the land that he lived on
Oh montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
Oh montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grey
Grey road stretched through grey rain.
Grey rain fell though grey mist.
Grey mist enveloped all,
all the eye could see,
all the land,
all the sky
and me.
Grey covered all,
all the way down to the sea.
Glimpsed through grey the swell of the ocean,
riding the waves a wind surfer surfing,
chopping, fighting the crests with swift motion
skirting the spray, sail unfurling.
Stopping, I stared at that sight in the mist,
oh how he came dancing over the sea,
right through the rain a state of sheer bliss,
the wondrous frolic rippling throughout me
making me tingle right down deep inside.
That misty image ripped all grey apart
a glorious vision of freedom untied,
returning tremendous joy to my heart
filling me up, bringing tears to my eyes,
emerging from grey a great love of life.
poem by Diana Rosser
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A March Day in London
The east wind blows in the street to-day;
The sky is blue, yet the town looks grey.
'Tis the wind of ice, the wind of fire,
Of cold despair and of hot desire,
Which chills the flesh to aches and pains,
And sends a fever through all the veins.
From end to end, with aimless feet,
All day long have I paced the street.
My limbs are weary, but in my breast
Stirs the goad of a mad unrest.
I would give anything to stay
The little wheel that turns in my brain;
The little wheel that turns all day,
That turns all night with might and main.
What is the thing I fear, and why?
Nay, but the world is all awry--
The wind's in the east, the sun's in the sky.
The gas-lamps gleam in a golden line;
The ruby lights of the hansoms shine,
Glance, and flicker like fire-flies bright;
The wind has fallen with the night,
And once again the town seems fair
Thwart the mist that hangs i' the air.
And o'er, at last, my spirit steals
A weary peace ; peace that conceals
Within its inner depths the grain
Of hopes that yet shall flower again.
Root Like A Rose
There's a green, green palce
Where you lift your face
To the sound of the waves and the wind
Down by the shore
Where my soul does endure
Where the mother sea ends and begins.
Take me home
To the sand and the foam
Where my dreams walk in the mist
I'll fall to the earth and root like a rose
In the salt land
That gave me my verse.
Though I wander afar
The same sea, the same stars
Still shine to the tears in my eyes
They take me home to a land
That my soul understands
Where the heart of the rose never dies.
Take me home
To the sand and the foam
Where my dreams walk in the mist
I'll fall to the earth and root like a rose
In the salt land
That gave me my verse...
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dream Of Heaven
They tell of harps and golden crowns, and singing,
But oh, I think, when ends the strife and pain,
That our dear Lord will lead the souls that love Him
Where are green grass and trees, and soft spring rain;
Where are no scorching suns, or skies drought-blazing,
But dear grey clouds with sunshine stealing through
In level rays, o’er distant wooded valleys,
And still green pools, with waterlilies blue.
And those who sought to save drought-ridden creatures,
And struggled bravely with the grim old earth,
The God of all true hearts will surely give them
Rest from their labours in a new world’s birth:
When they shall feel the fresh wind in their faces,
Fragrant with clover scents and summer shower,
And they shall praise Him in green silent places,
Who, like St. Francis, loved each tree and flower;
Who sae their God in all the changing seasons,
And never failed, or flinched, or Faith denied,
For evermore their loving Lord shall lead them
Where are green woods, and rolling pastures wide.
poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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Deep Surrender
My heart surrendered, In a complete abyss!
A feeling so pure, and true.
I prayed for your happiness.
For the Angel's, to always watch over you.
I prayed God please! Be in his mist.
Give him strength, and love too.
When I'm in your arms, desire consumes me.
Your sweet soft shoulder kiss!
Always took my breath away.
But still no rose, no attention.
I really need from you.
To be your friend torment's my mind.
Where's the love I want from you?
To let you go, Is what I really need to do!
God give me strength, as each day pass.
Take this love! And don't let it last.
Please Dear Lord, ease my mind.
Show me things will turn out fine.
Surround your angels, around me Lord!
And never, never leave me.
poem by Carlene Maddux
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Mia
Honey now..na, na, na, na, na....
Hush a bye my baby soft and new
Oh, loveliness, gypsy dance in the rain
Hush a bye my baby what you do
Oh, the baby cry
The wind is a-callin your name
Oh, oh...
Where you came from you aint alone
Live and loved from the old jaw bone
Ah, dont you cry youre home sweet home
Rock a bye sweet lady gypsy blue
Oh, the nightingales singin her song in the rain
Hush a bye sweet lady, soft and new
Oh, dont you cry, the wind shes a-screamin your name
Oh, oh...
Come too soon that sunny day
You give your heart away
No divorce, io repouise
Oh, oh...
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Want a Wind
I want a wind
To start in the far-off mountain
To rush down in a raging fury
And fill this dull and silent valley.
I want a wind
To wrap around the gray tree trunks
To rattle the leaves and grass
To whistle by the window’s glass.
I want a wind
To make the pine trees clack together
To tangle the hair of the Barbie girls
To make the dust on the roads to swirl.
I want a wind
To take the litter on the sidewalk away
To blow the mist from the falls my way
To echo throughout this listless day.
I want a wind
To burst through the window and into here
To scatter the papers from their neat piles
To steal my breath and give me smile.
poem by Sophia White
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Illusion's Love Songs
Soft whispers
Sighing
Silver-soft moon
Illusion's
Voice
Love’s very
Wind-song
Eternally chased
Heart's goddess
Into a
Sweet Mist ~
poem by Debora Short
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Green Pastures
(traditional/brian ahern)
Troubles and trials often betray those
On in the weary body to stray
But we shall walk beside the still waters
With the good shepherd leading the way
Those who have strayed were sought by the master
He who once gave his life for the sheep
Out on the mountain still he is searching
Bringing them in forever to keep
Going up home to live in green pastures
Where we shall live and die never more
Even the lord will be in that number
When we shall reach that heavenly shore
We will not heed the voice of the stranger
For he would lead us all to despair
Following on with jesus our savior
We shall all reach that country so fair
Going up home to live in green pastures
Where we shall live and die never more
Even the lord will be in that number
When we shall reach that heavenly shore
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Was Young When I Left Home
Written by Bob Dylan
Recorded on the Minnesota Hotel Tape (Dec 22, 1961)
Tabbed by Eyolf strem
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Open G tuning (DGdgbd')
G 000000
G' 000430
D 000210
C 002010
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I sorta made it up on a train. Huh, oh I'm here. This must be good for somebody, this sad song. I know it's good for somebody. If it ain't for me, it's good for somebody. I just talked about it, huh huh.
G
I was young when I left home
G' D C
and I been a-rambling 'round.
D
And I never wrote a letter to my home.
G G' D C
To my home, lord to my home.
D G
And I never wrote a letter to my home.
It was just the other day,
I was bringing home my pay
when I met an old friend I used to know.
Said your mother's dead and gone,
baby sister's all gone wrong
and your daddy needs you home right away.
Not a shirt on my back,
not a penny on my name.
But I can't go home thisaway.
Thisaway, lord lord lord.
And I can't go home thisaway.
If you miss the train I'm on,
count the days I'm gone.
You will hear that whistle blow a hundred miles.
Hundred miles, honey baby, lord lord lord,
and you'll hear that whistle blow a hundred miles.
I'm playing on a track,
ma would come and whoop me back
on them trussels down by old Jim McKay's.
When I pay the debt I owe to the commissary store,
I will pawn my watch and chain and go home.
Go home, lord lord lord.
I will pawn my watch and chain and go home.
Used to tell ma sometimes
when I see them riding blind,
gonna make me a home out in the wind.
In the wind, lord in the wind.
Make me a home out in the wind.
I don't like it in the wind,
I go back home again,
but I can't go home thisaway.
Thisaway, lord lord lord,
and I can't go home thisaway.
I was young when I left home
and I been all rambling 'round.
And I never wrote a letter to my home.
To my home lord lord lord.
And I never wrote a letter to my home.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the Marshy Pastures
A man who walks in the black wind; the dry reeds
rustle quietly
Through the silence of the marshy pastures. In
the grey skies
A migration of wild birds move in ranks
Catty-corner over dark waters.
Insurgence. In the collapsing houses
Decay is fluttering out with black wings;
Crippled-up birches breathe heavily in the wind.
Evening in empty roadhouses. The longing for home
settles about
The delicate despair of the grazing flocks,
Vision of the night: toads plunge from silver waters.
poem by Georg Trakl
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In A Garden
Girl, with the soft grey eyes,
You to the flowers belong:
From the perfume of a rose
My heart shall weave you a song.
I will colour its words with light,
Like the sun on that straying tress.
The wind will lend me its harp
To set it in loveliness.
It shall fold you soft as the mist,
Yet stir your heart like the sea,
Till lips that never were kissed
Shall yeld their homage to me.
poem by George Essex Evans
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Seed-Time and Harvest
“Thou waterest her furrows, thou sendest rain into the little valleys
thereof; thou makest it soft with the drops of rain, and blessest the increase
of it.”
Fret not thyself so sorely, heart of mine,
For that the pain hath roughly broke thy rest,—
That thy wild flowers lie dead upon thy breast,
Whereon the cloud-veiled sun hath ceased to shine.
Fret not that thou art seam'd and scarr'd and torn;
That clods are piled where tinted vetches were;
That long worms crawl to light, and brown rifts, bare
Of green and tender grasses, widely yawn.
God's hand is on the plough—so be thou still.
Thou canst not see Him, for thine eyes are dim;
But wait in patience, put thy trust in Him;
Give thanks for love, and leave thee to His will.
Ah! in due time the lowering clouds shall rain
Soft drops on my parch'd furrows; I shall sow
In tears and prayers, and green corn-blades will grow;
I shall not wish the wild flowers back again.
I shall be glad that I did work and weep—
Be glad, O God! my slumbering soul did wake—
Be glad my stubborn heart did heave and break
Beneath the plough—when angels come to reap.
Be glad, O Father! that my land was till'd
And sown and water'd, in the harvest-day
When Thou wilt cast the weeds and tares away,
And when with ripen'd fruit Thy barns are fill'd.
Keep me my faith, I pray. I cannot see,
And fear to intermeddle with Thy work.
Oh, though I wince and fret, I would not shirk
The discipline that is so good for me!
I know that Thou wilt make my grief to cease,
Wilt send the cool, soft drops of healing rain,
And make my scarred heart green with springing grain,
That after patient waiting cometh peace;
That after beautiful labour I shall rest,
And after weeping have my fill of joy.
Thou breakest down to build up, not destroy;
Thou doest right, O Lord! Thou knowest best.
poem by Ada Cambridge
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A Soldier Home From A War
Daymare demons spiral your head.
There is no rest in your soft bed.
Images of death reveal.
The guilt you hide, but feel.
A war of shadows.
Where you once fought.
In back gardens where children play
For only peace you wished and sought.
The grass green hills of your childhood remain.
But there, there was no death sign
Wife and kids you greet at garden gate.
They don’t see your inner hate.
They don’t see your embroiled conscience,
or know the infliction you bare.
They’re only too happy to have you home.
Home to love and share.
You are a soldier home.
A soldier home from a war,
Trying your guilt to hide.
Trying to forget the child you shot, that died.
The war was someone else’s.
Why should you really care?
It only really strikes home,
when you see a child dying there.
Visions cloud your mind of voices in despair.
Why did we have to die so young?
Why did our mother’s have to mourn?
Soldier from another land, please tell us why?
The soldier’s forehead frowns.
The answer he can not give.
He was only sent there.
So other have a chance to live.
Now his war is over.
Over his home he now resides.
But the voices of despair.
Still ring in his head.
He cries to himself in silence.
How can his conscience bare.
The purgatory it must go through.
Knowing he killed a child fair.
18 July 1978
poem by David Harris
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Mull Of Kintyre
Mull of kintyre
Oh mist rolling in from the sea,
My desire is always to be here
Oh mull of kintyre
Far have I traveled and much have I seen
Dark distant mountains with valleys of green.
Past painted deserts the sunsets on fire
As he carries me home to the mull of kintyre.
Mull of kintyre
Oh mist rolling in from the sea,
My desire is always to be here
Oh mull of kintyre
Sweep through the heather like deer in the glen
Carry me back to the days I knew then.
Nights when we sang like a heavenly choir
Of the life and the time of the mull of kintyre.
Mull of kintyre
Oh mist rolling in from the sea,
My desire is always to be here
Oh mull of kintyre
Smiles in the sunshine
And tears in the rain
Still take me back to where my memories remain
Flickering embers growing higher and higher
As they carry me back to the mull of kintyre
Mull of kintyre
Oh mist rolling in from the sea,
My desire is always to be here
Oh mull of kintyre
Mull of kintyre
Oh mist rolling in from the sea,
My desire is always to be here
Oh mull of kintyre
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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