Rejected
Alas ! I have lost my God,
My beautiful God Apollo.
Wherever his footsteps trod
My feet were wont to follow.
But Oh ! it fell out one day
My soul was so heavy with weeping,
That I laid me down by the way ;
And he left me while I was sleeping.
And my soul awoke in the night,
And I bowed my ear for his fluting,
And I heard but the breath of the flight
Of wings and the night-birds hooting.
And night drank all her cup,
And I went to the shrine in the hollow,
And the voice of my cry went up :
' Apollo ! Apollo ! Apollo ! '
But he never came to the gate,
And the sun was hid in a mist,
And there came one walking late,
And I knew it was Christ,
He took my soul and bound it
With cords of iron wire,
Seven times round He wound it
With the cords of my desire.
The cords of my desire,
While my desire slept, ,
Were seven bands of wire
To bind my soul that wept.
And He hid my soul at last
In a place of stones and (ears,
Where the hours like days went past
And the days went by like years.
And after many days
That which had slept awoke,
And desire burnt in a blaze,
And my soul went up in the smoke.
And we crept away from the place
And would not look behind,
And the angel that hides his face
Was crouched on the neck of the wind.
And I went to the shrine in the hollow
Where the lutes and the flutes were playing,
And cried : ' I am come, Apollo,
Back to thy shrine, from my straying.'
But he would have none of my soul
That was stained with blood and with tears,
That had lain in the earth like a mole,
In the place of great stones and fears.
And now I am lost in the mist
Of the things that can never be,
For I will have none of Christ
And Apollo will none of me.
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
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Related quotes
Ultima Thule: Jugurtha
How cold are thy baths, Apollo!
Cried the African monarch, the splendid,
As down to his death in the hollow
Dark dungeons of Rome he descended,
Uncrowned, unthroned, unattended;
How cold are thy baths, Apollo!
How cold are thy baths, Apollo!
Cried the Poet, unknown, unbefriended,
As the vision, that lured him to follow,
With the mist and the darkness blended,
And the dream of his life was ended;
How cold are thy baths, Apollo!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Jugurtha
How cold are thy baths, Apollo!
Cried the African monarch, the splendid,
As down to his death in the hollow
Dark dungeons of Rome he descended,
Uncrowned, unthroned, unattended;
How cold are thy baths, Apollo!
How cold are thy baths, Apollo!
Cried the Poet, unknown, unbefriended,
As the vision, that lured him to follow,
With the mist and the darkness blended,
And the dream of his life was ended;
How cold are thy baths, Apollo!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Music and Poetry
Lord Apollo, I’m like a lost man
Who has suffered the worst defeat,
The forever disappearance of his daughter;
I’m drunk from the cup of sorrow and praying
To your poetic heart of music to return my happiness again.
I’ve visited your shrines
And lit candles in the night sacrosanct,
I’ve tried to capture innocence and beauty
Like a child in the sunlight.
I spend so many days adrift in weeping
And walking the loveless streets
Searching for my soul
Abandoned to a woman’s heart.
I need a new song, Lord Apollo,
And I’ll relinquish everything else I’ve known,
I seek the solace of oblivion.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Apollo Laughs
'APOLLO laughs,' the proverb tells,
Far echo of old oracles,
A Delphic waif, —'Once in the year,
Apollo laughs.' O laughter clear
As sunshine, blithe as golden bells!
What mortal folly parallels
Olympian jest and so impels
To mirth till Heaven's bright charioteer,
Apollo, laughs?
'Tis when the annual critic knells
The death of poetry, while swells
Some faint, fresh wood-note, pioneer
Of music earth shall thrill to hear.
Then at Apollo's infidels
Apollo laughs.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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The Inn of Apollo
Have you supped at the Inn of Apollo,
While the last light fades from the West?
Has the Lord of the Sun, at the world's end,
Poured you his ripest and best?
O, there's wine in that Inn of Apollo;
Wine, mellow and deep as the sunset,
With mirth in it, singing as loud
As the skylark sings in a high wind,
High over a crisp white cloud.
Have you laughed in that Inn of Apollo?
Was the whole world molten in music
At once, by the heat of that wine?
Did the stars and the tides and your own heart
Dance with the heavenly Nine?
For they dance in that Inn of Apollo.
Was their poetry croaked by the sages,
Or born in a whisper of wings?
For the music that masters the ages,
Be sure, is the music that sings!
Yes, they sing in that Inn of Apollo.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Villanelle
Apollo left the golden Muse
And shepherded a mortal's sheep,
Theocritus of Syracuse!
To mock the giant swain that woo's
The sea-nymph in the sunny deep,
Apollo left the golden Muse.
Afield he drove his lambs and ewes,
Where Milon and where Battus reap,
Theocritus of Syracuse!
To watch thy tunny-fishers cruise
Below the dim Sicilian steep
Apollo left the golden Muse.
Ye twain did loiter in the dews,
Ye slept the swain's unfever'd sleep,
Theocritus of Syracuse!
That Time might half with HIS confuse
Thy songs,--like his, that laugh and leap, -
Theocritus of Syracuse,
Apollo left the golden Muse!
poem by Andrew Lang
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Where I Live in This Honorable House of the Laurel Tree
I live in my wooden legs and O
my green green hands.
Too late
to wish I had not run from you, Apollo,
blood moves still in my bark bound veins.
I, who ran nymph foot to foot in flight,
have only this late desire to arm the trees
I lie within. The measure that I have lost
silks my pulse. Each century the trickeries
of need pain me everywhere.
Frost taps my skin and I stay glossed
in honor for you are gone in time. The air
rings for you, for that astonishing rite
of my breathing tent undone within your light.
I only know how untimely lust has tossed
flesh at the wind forever and moved my fears
toward the intimate Rome of myth we crossed.
I am a fist of my unease
as I spill toward the stars in the empty years.
I build the air with the crown of honor; it keys
my out of time and luckless appetite.
You gave me honor too soon, Apollo.
There is no one left who understands
how I wait
here in my wooden legs and O
my green green hands.
poem by Anne Sexton
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While You Were Sleeping
Last Night while you were sleeping,
Did you know that I was wide awake,
On my side, at your side
Waiting for morning to break.
I watched as you slept,
As the dreams enter in your soul
Then through my eyes, I realized
That truly, I love you so.
Last night, while you were sleeping.
Last Night while you were asleep
Did you know too, that I was there
On your bed, also laid my head
Along with my soul and prayer.
Lying quietly at your side
As I have done the nights before
To be with you, my love so true
Could any man ask for any more.
Last Night while you were asleep.
Last night while you slept,
As waiting for morning to come,
While at your side, I laid that night
While dreading the coming of the sun.
As always with you I was there
Even when morning began to arise
But then again it came, as so did the pain
As I said goodbye to another night.
Last night while you slept.
Last night while you did sleep
You never knew that you weren't alone,
As when you awoke not one word did I spoke
As on the couch I slept from which I never roamed.
Upon my side there I solemnly laid
Being so still, and quite as a mouse
Not to make a sound that might give my secret away,
I wandered; did you too feel lonely in this house.
Last night while you had slept.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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To Stone I Turn
If not a slave of this world, I am a slave of God
Wearied in chains, my soul oppressed
I walk with leaden feet
To a feat I trod
My solace warms, in a soul dressed
by the virgin's blood and
Magdalene's tears.
With their succor
I quench my fears
Its love impressed,
My soul never leers
Still the chains don't chain my will,
a will sick with desire.
Outwitting my simple soul
My will tempts the mire
To swamp not just the earth,
but slime God's soul as well
So in misery my soul can dwell
And in hell burn in fire.
Mystified in God's quay….
In my plumbeous chains, saturnine my soul turns
Wearied by the trod.
Treading lead, the color gray
Like an angel I fly away.
Where souls land and
pray to God
Hoping their soul never burns
To stone, my soul turns
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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A Song Of Life
In the rapture of life and of living,
I lift up my head and rejoice,
And I thank the great Giver for giving
The soul of my gladness a voice.
In the glow of the glorious weather,
In the sweet-scented, sensuous air,
My burdens seem light as a feather –
They are nothing to bear.
In the strength and the glory of power,
In the pride and the pleasure of wealth
(For who dares dispute me my dower
Of talents and youth-time and health?) ,
I can laugh at the world and its sages –
I am greater than seers who are sad,
For he is most wise in all ages
Who knows how to be glad.
I lift up my eyes to Apollo,
The god of the beautiful days,
And my spirit soars off like a swallow,
And is lost in the light of its rays.
Are tou troubled and sad? I beseech you
Come out of the shadows of strife –
Come out in the sun while I teach you
The secret of life.
Come out of the world – come above it –
Up over its crosses and graves,
Though the green earth is fair and I love it,
We must love it as masters, not slaves.
Come up where the dust never rises –
But only the perfume of flowers –
And your life shall be glad with surprises
Of beautiful hours.
Come up where the rare golden wine is
Apollo distills in my sight,
And your life shall be happy as mine is,
And as full of delight.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Club Soul City
Pack up your bags
Dont look back
Theres a little place
Out cross the the railroad tracks
If youre broken-hearted
And you dont know what to do
But they got a place down there thats just for you
Club soul, club soul city, yeah yeah yeah
Club soul, club soul city, oh yeah
Theres a waitress at the back bar
Goes with the the guy that runs the place
Shes got hair like a weeping willow
And tears running down her face
Shes seen a lot of guys like you coming around
Looking for something that theyve lost
Or trying to lose something that theyve found
Down at
Club soul, club soul city, yeah yeah yeah
Club soul, club soul city, oh yeah
So if youre down on your spirit
And there aint no-one who cares
If youre lost and youre lonely
You wont be lonely down there
You cant miss it, its just up the highway
On the front door theres a sign that says
Restricted to the losing kind
Club soul, club soul city, yeah yeah yeah
Club soul, club soul city, oh yeah
Club soul, club soul city, yeah yeah yeah
Club soul, club soul city, oh yeah
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Big Brother
Dont talk of dust and roses
Or should we powder our noses?
Dont live for last years capers
Give me steel, give me steel, give me pulses unreal
Hell build a glass asylum
With just a hint of mayhem
Hell build a better whirlpool
Well be living from sin, then we can really begin
Please savior, saviour, show us
Hear me, Im graphically yours
Someone to claim us, someone to follow
Someone to shame us, some brave apollo
Someone to fool us, someone like you
We want you big brother, big brother
I know you think youre awful square
But you made everyone and youve been every where
Lord, Id take an overdose if you knew whats going down
Someone to claim us, someone to follow
Someone to shame us, some brave apollo
Someone to fool us, someone like you
Someone to claim us, someone to follow
Someone to shame us, some brave apollo
Someone to fool, someone like you
Someone to claim us, someone to follow
Someone to shame us, some brave apollo
Someone to fool, someone like you
We want you big brother
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let Me Love You
(aimee mayo, bill luther, chris lindsey, marv green)
Sometimes I close my eyes
And imagine youre with me
Chasing passion into the night
All tangled in a dream.
Oh if you could see my heart
The way I feel inside
You would know just how far
Im willing to go to get to you
There is nothing I wont do.
Show me what its like to lose control
Free the desire in your soul
Oh oh let me love you.
Let me take you to a place like no where else
Show you the things you never felt
Oh oh let me love you.
Oh I want to taste your kiss
Be the reason for your smile
Touch the magic on your skin
Be the one that drives you wild.
Oh if you could read my mind
Youd know youre everything I need
Youd see yourself through my eyes
You may understand what Im going through
Just how much I want you.
Show me what its like to lose control
Free the desire in your soul
Oh oh let me love you.
Let me take you to a place like no where else
Show you the things you never felt
Oh oh let me love you.
Let me love you.
Let me love you!
Show you what its like to lose control
Free the desire in your soul
Oh oh let me love you.
Let me take you to a place like no where else
Show you the things you never felt
Oh oh let me love you.
Oh I love you.
Show you what its like to lose control
Free the desire in your soul
Oh oh let me love you.
Yeah baby.
Let me take you to a place like no where else
Show you the things you never felt
Oh oh let me love you.
Let me love you.
Let me love you.
Let me love you.
Let me love you.
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Insomnia
Thin are the night-skirts left behind
By daybreak hours that onward creep,
And thin, alas! the shred of sleep
That wavers with the spirit's wind:
But in half-dreams that shift and roll
And still remember and forget,
My soul this hour has drawn your soul
A little nearer yet.
Our lives, most dear, are never near,
Our thoughts are never far apart,
Though all that draws us heart to heart
Seems fainter now and now more clear.
To-night Love claims his full control,
And with desire and with regret
My soul this hour has drawn your soul
A little nearer yet.
Is there a home where heavy earth
Melts to bright air that breathes no pain,
Where water leaves no thirst again
And springing fire is Love's new birth?
If faith long bound to one true goal
May there at length its hope beget,
My soul that hour shall draw your soul
For ever nearer yet.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Rosa Flammea
Beautiful demon, O veil those eyes of fire,
Cover your breasts that are whiter than milk, and ruddy
With dewy buds of the magical rose, your body,
Veil your lips from the shining of my desire!
As a rose growing up from hell you waver before me,
Shaking an odorous breath that is fire within;
The Lord Christ may not pardon me this sweet sin,
But the scent of the rose that is rooted in hell steals o'er me.
O Lord Christ, I am lost, I am lost, I am lost!
Her eyes are as stars in a pool and their spell is on me;
She lifts her unsearchable lids, chill fire is upon me,
It shudders through every vein, and my brain is tossed
As the leaves of a tree when the wind coils under and over;
She smiles, and I hear the heart beat in my side;
She lifts her hands, and I swirl in a clutching tide;
But shall my soul not burn in flame if I love her?
She shall veil those eyes, those lips, ah! that breast.
Demon seeking my soul, I do adjure thee,
In the name of him for whose tempted sake I endure thee,
Trouble my sight no more: lost soul, be at rest!
She smiles, and the air grows into a mist of spices,
Frankincense, cinnamon, labdanum, and myrrh
Rise in sweet smoke about the feet of her
Before whom the sweets of the world are as sacrifices.
Cinnamon, frankincense, labdanum, and myrrh
Smoke in the air, the fume of them closes round me;
Help, ere the waves of the flood of odours have drowned me,
Help, ere it be too late! There has no help come,
And I feel that the rose of the pit begins to blossom
Into the likeness of a lost soul on fire,
And the soul that was mine is emptied of all but desire
Of the rose of her lips and the rose of her bosom.
Ah! she smiles the great smile, the immortal shame:
Her mouth to my mouth, though hell be the price hereafter!...
I hear in the whirling winds her windy laughter,
And my soul for this shall whirl in the winds of flame.
poem by Arthur Symons
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The Lord Is My Shepherd
The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want:
I'm a created follower, I was made a worshipper,
Of spirits, trees, people, stones, but now my idol's left me all alone.
This desire within me's left me hollow, I need someone to follow!
They need to know the way, or I won't see the light of day!
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
This world where I walk, is dry-the dust makes me choke.
My idols lead me to a land of death, here I die in the heat of the dearth.
Oh for some cool water, an oasis, to cool my soul's cravings.
I need some food to nourish me, a fruitful place to run free.
I'm tired of running for my life, I want a place without strife.
He leadeth me beside the still waters:
This life is full of storms, I want to sail on the calm.
The waves are crashing down out here, grinding into the sand.
I gotta get this pounding out my ears: Jesus, hold my heart, calm my fears.
He restoreth my soul:
When I walk out there, I see zombies walking around me.
Indeed, I've been the living dead, many times I've sat on the ledge.
I need a restoration, a renovation, heck, I need a haulover: life revolution.
One answer: Jesus on the cross. Life change, the Lord restores the soul.
The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Mesalliance
I am troubled to-night with a curious pain;
It is not of the flesh, it is not of the brain,
Nor yet of a heart that is breaking:
But down still deeper, and out of sight—
In the place where the soul and the body unite—
There lies the scat of the aching.
They have been lovers in days gone by;
But the soul is fickle, and longs to fly
From the fettering mesalliance:
And she tears at the bonds which are binding her so,
And pleads with the body to let her go,
But he will not yield compliance.
For the body loves, as he loved in the past,
When he wedded the soul; and he holds her fast,
And swears that he will not loose her;
That he will keep her and hide her away
For ever and ever and for a day
From the arms of Death, the seducer.
Ah! this is the strife that is wearying me—
The strife 'twixt a soul that would be free
And a body that will not let her.
And I say to my soul, 'Be calm, and wait;
For I tell ye truly that soon or late
Ye surely shall drop each fetter.'
And I say to the body, 'Be kind, I pray;
For the soul is not of thy mortal clay,
But is formed in spirit fashion.'
And still through the hours of the solemn night
I can hear my sad soul's plea for flight,
And my body's reply of passion.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Hearts Desire
I seek to find your hearts desire,
So I may set your soul on fire.
Lonely days once filled with sorrow,
The flame of love lights up tomorrow.
Burned into my soul by passions fire,
There is no other heart I dare desire.
I bring my love to quench your thirst,
I'll feed your need and put you first.
So drink of me in angels glow,
Then all my secrets you shall know.
And share with me your hearts desire,
Then we shall set this night on fire...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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I grew up watching a lot of the coverage of the early U.S. space program, all the way back starting with Mercury and then through Gemini and Apollo and of course going to the moon as the main part of the Apollo program.
quote by Linda M. Godwin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Oracle
eipate toi basilei, xamai pese daidalos aula.
ouketi PHoibos exei kaluban, ou mantida daphnen,
ou pagan laleousan . apesbeto kai lalon udor.
Years have risen and fallen in darkness or in twilight,
Ages waxed and waned that knew not thee nor thine,
While the world sought light by night and sought not thy light,
Since the sad last pilgrim left thy dark mid shrine.
Dark the shrine and dumb the fount of song thence welling,
Save for words more sad than tears of blood, that said:
Tell the king, on earth has fallen the glorious dwelling,
And the watersprings that spake are quenched and dead.
Not a cell is left the God, no roof, no cover
In his hand the prophet laurel flowers no more.
And the great king's high sad heart, thy true last lover,
Felt thine answer pierce and cleave it to the core.
And he bowed down his hopeless head
In the drift of the wild world's tide,
And dying, Thou hast conquered, he said,
Galilean; he said it, and died.
And the world that was thine and was ours
When the Graces took hands with the Hours
Grew cold as a winter wave
In the wind from a wide-mouthed grave,
As a gulf wide open to swallow
The light that the world held dear.
O father of all of us, Paian, Apollo,
Destroyer and healer, hear!
Age on age thy mouth was mute, thy face was hidden,
And the lips and eyes that loved thee blind and dumb;
Song forsook their tongues that held thy name forbidden,
Light their eyes that saw the strange God's kingdom come.
Fire for light and hell for heaven and psalms for pæans
Filled the clearest eyes and lips most sweet of song,
When for chant of Greeks the wail of Galileans
Made the whole world moan with hymns of wrath and wrong.
Yea, not yet we see thee, father, as they saw thee,
They that worshipped when the world was theirs and thine,
They whose words had power by thine own power to draw thee
Down from heaven till earth seemed more than heaven divine.
For the shades are about us that hover
When darkness is half withdrawn
And the skirts of the dead night cover
The face of the live new dawn.
For the past is not utterly past
Though the word on its lips be the last,
And the time be gone by with its creed
When men were as beasts that bleed,
As sheep or as swine that wallow,
In the shambles of faith and of fear.
O father of all of us, Paian, Apollo,
Destroyer and healer, hear!
Yet it may be, lord and father, could we know it,
We that love thee for our darkness shall have light
More than ever prophet hailed of old or poet
Standing crowned and robed and sovereign in thy sight.
To the likeness of one God their dreams enthralled thee,
Who wast greater than all Gods that waned and grew;
Son of God the shining son of Time they called thee,
Who wast older, O our father, than they knew.
For no thought of man made Gods to love or honour
Ere the song within the silent soul began,
Nor might earth in dream or deed take heaven upon her
Till the word was clothed with speech by lips of man.
And the word and the life wast thou,
The spirit of man and the breath;
And before thee the Gods that bow
Take life at thine hands and death.
For these are as ghosts that wane,
That are gone in an age or twain;
Harsh, merciful, passionate, pure,
They perish, but thou shalt endure;
Be their flight with the swan or the swallow,
They pass as the flight of a year.
O father of all of us, Paian, Apollo,
Destroyer and healer, hear!
Thou the word, the light, the life, the breath, the glory,
Strong to help and heal, to lighten and to slay,
Thine is all the song of man, the world's whole story;
Not of morning and of evening is thy day.
Old and younger Gods are buried or begotten
From uprising to downsetting of thy sun,
Risen from eastward, fallen to westward and forgotten,
And their springs are many, but their end is one.
Divers births of godheads find one death appointed,
As the soul whence each was born makes room for each;
God by God goes out, discrowned and disanointed,
But the soul stands fast that gave them shape and speech.
Is the sun yet cast out of heaven?
Is the song yet cast out of man?
Life that had song for its leaven
To quicken the blood that ran
Through the veins of the songless years
More bitter and cold than tears,
Heaven that had thee for its one
Light, life, word, witness, O sun,
Are they soundless and sightless and hollow,
Without eye, without speech, without ear?
O father of all of us, Paian, Apollo,
Destroyer and healer, hear!
Time arose and smote thee silent at his warning,
Change and darkness fell on men that fell from thee;
Dark thou satest, veiled with light, behind the morning,
Till the soul of man should lift up eyes and see.
Till the blind mute soul get speech again and eyesight,
Man may worship not the light of life within;
In his sight the stars whose fires grow dark in thy sight
Shine as sunbeams on the night of death and sin.
Time again is risen with mightier word of warning,
Change hath blown again a blast of louder breath;
Clothed with clouds and stars and dreams that melt in morning,
Lo, the Gods that ruled by grace of sin and death!
They are conquered, they break, they are stricken,
Whose might made the whole world pale;
They are dust that shall rise not or quicken
Though the world for their death's sake wail.
As a hound on a wild beast's trace,
So time has their godhead in chase;
As wolves when the hunt makes head,
They are scattered, they fly, they are fled;
They are fled beyond hail, beyond hollo,
And the cry of the chase, and the cheer.
O father of all of us, Paian, Apollo,
Destroyer and healer, hear!
Day by day thy shadow shines in heaven beholden,
Even the sun, the shining shadow of thy face:
King, the ways of heaven before thy feet grow golden;
God, the soul of earth is kindled with thy grace.
In thy lips the speech of man whence Gods were fashioned,
In thy soul the thought that makes them and unmakes;
By thy light and heat incarnate and impassioned,
Soul to soul of man gives light for light and takes.
As they knew thy name of old time could we know it,
Healer called of sickness, slayer invoked of wrong,
Light of eyes that saw thy light, God, king, priest, poet,
Song should bring thee back to heal us with thy song.
For thy kingdom is past not away,
Nor thy power from the place thereof hurled;
Out of heaven they shall cast not the day,
They shall cast not out song from the world.
By the song and the light they give
We know thy works that they live;
With the gift thou hast given us of speech
We praise, we adore, we beseech,
We arise at thy bidding and follow,
We cry to thee, answer, appear,
O father of all of us, Paian, Apollo,
Destroyer and healer, hear!
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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