Come, Rest Awhile
Come, rest awhile, and let us idly stray
In glimmering valleys, cool and far away.
Come from the greedy mart, the troubled street,
And listen to the music, faint and sweet,
That echoes ever to a listening ear,
Unheard by those who will not pause to hear
The wayward chimes of memory's pensive bells,
Wind-blown o'er misty hills and curtained dells.
One step aside and dewy buds unclose
The sweetness of the violet and the rose;
Song and romance still linger in the green,
Emblossomed ways by you so seldom seen,
And near at hand, would you but see them, lie
All lovely things beloved in days gone by.
You have forgotten what it is to smile
In your too busy lifecome, rest awhile.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Lay It All On Me
Written by: r. robinson & c. robinson
Come on down crooked man
Step on up broken man
Its okay to cry troubled man
Just ease your worried mind and rest awhile
Do you remember when it started
You had a dream
Now you never talk about it
Your fame & riches were everything
No matter what the cost
Now you wish you hadnt blown it
Well lay it all on me
Lay it all on me
Come on down crooked man
Step on up broken man
Its okay to cry troubled man
Just ease your worried mind and rest awhile
I came to see how you were doing
Its been awhile
Lookin back over your shoulder
You were restless and you were wild
Always running away
Once was young now is older
Lay it all on me, lay it all on me
Come on down crooked man
Step on up broken man
Its okay to cry troubled man
Just ease your worried mind and rest a while
song performed by by Black Crowes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song of Truce
Till the tread of marching feet
Through the quiet grass-grown street
Of the little town shall come,
Soldier, rest awhile at home.
While the banners idly hang,
While the bugles do not clang,
While is hushed the clamorous drum,
Soldier, rest awhile at home.
In the breathing-time of Death,
While the sword is in its sheath,
While the cannon's mouth is dumb,
Soldier, rest awhile at home.
Not too long the rest shall be.
Soon enough, to Death and thee,
The assembly call shall come.
Soldier, rest awhile at home.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Rest Awhile
Verse 1:
I got rid of my jackets and coats
I threw out all of my pants
I got sick of my stinkin' clothes
I had to get rid of them
Climb:
I'm knot yet considering replacing them
I'm only glad to be rid of them
Chorus:
Rest awhile
Rest awhile
Verse 2:
I lay out in the sun too long
And burned off all of my skin
I felt so dizzy I got into the car
And got into an accident
Climb:
Out of the burning wreckage I fell
Wanting only to lay where I fell
Chorus:
Rest awhile
Rest awhile
Rest awhile!
Verse 3:
I became friendly with Ruy Lopez
The author of works on chess
Ruy said you're incorrect
He cut me off and acted mad
Climb:
He won't even talk to me now
But I don't care 'cause I'm sick of that guy
Chorus:
And I need to rest a while
Rest a while
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twas One of Those Dreams
'TWAS one of those dreams, that by music are brought,
Like a bright summer haze, o'er the poet's warm thought --
When, lost in the future, his soul wanders on,
And all of this life, but its sweetness, is gone.
The wild notes he heard o'er the water were those
He had taught to sing Erin's dark bondage and woes,
And the breath of the bugle now wafted them o'er
From Dinis' green isle, to Glena's wooded shore.
He listen'd -- while, high o'er the eagle's rude nest,
The lingering sounds on their way loved to rest;
And the echoes sung back from their full mountain quire,
As if loath to let song to enchanting expire.
It seem'd as if every sweet note that died here
Was again brought to life in some airier sphere,
Some heaven in those hills, where the soul of the strain
That had ceased upon earth was awaking again!
Oh forgive, if, while listening to music, whose breath
Seem'd to circle his name with a charm against death,
He should feel a proud spirit within him proclaim,
"Even so shalt thou live in the echoes of Fame:
"Even so, though thy memory should now die away,
'Twill be caught up again in some happier day,
And the hearts and the voices of Erin prolong,
Through the answering Future, thy name and thy song."
poem by Thomas Moore
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Easy Plateau
Let's take a ride to the easy plateau
Where the cold don't come and the wind don't blow
Moonlight flickers on the water below
The orange grove blossoms
In the orange grove
Bad nights lead to better days
It doesn't matter but I think about it anyway
I want a easy plateau
Some place to rest my head
I want an easy plateau
Some place to rest my head
For awhile, for awhile, for awhile
For a little while
Sleepyhead, come on let's take a ride
To the easy plateau in the back of your mind
Up through the alley, take the door under the stairs
My head ain't feeling nothing but cats and rocking chairs
Bad nights lead to better days
It never happens but I think about it anyway
I want an easy plateau
Some place to hang my head
I want an easy plateau
Some place to hang my head
For awhile, for awhile, for awhile
For a little while
How do I hold on to you
If I can't hold on to me
How do I hold on to you
I want an easy plateau
Some place to rest my head for a little while
I want an easy plateau
Some place to rest my head
I want an easy plateau
Some place to rest my head
An easy plateau
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Thinking
Got up on a cool morning. Leaned out a window.
No cloud, no wind. Air that flowers held
for awhile. Some dove somewhere.
Been on probation most of my life. And
the rest of my life been condemned. So these moments
count for a lot--peace, you know.
Let the bucket of memory down into the well,
bring it up. Cool, cool minutes. No one
stirring, no plans. Just being there.
This is what the whole thing is about.
poem by William Stafford
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Always The Romantic - Hopefully!
Will I always find elation in the byways of your smile
And let my lips linger on your shoulder after ending a weary mile?
Will your honey always excite me, will I bring our backs to dew
And write romance letters to you my love always anon anew?
My wish is that we will always do it, our limbs will always twine
That we’ll linger often like that and your heart will be ever mine.
I hope I’ll still taste sweet to you when time has charged its due
And I’ll romance you day and night, and we’ll do what lovers do.
So if I sometimes falter and of your ways seem weary
Remember I will always love you for ever and sincerely.
I hope to linger comfortably on your byways for awhile
But always find my way home to the enchantment of your smile.
Prefatory Sonnets I
I purposed once to take my pen and write,
Not songs, like some, tormented and awry
With passion, but a cunning harmony
Of words and music caught from glen and height,
And lucid colours born of woodland light
And shining places where the sea-streams lie.
But this was when the heat of youth glowed white,
And since I've put the faded purpose by.
I have no faultless fruits to offer you
Who read this book; but certain syllables
Herein are borrowed from unfooted dells
And secret hollows dear to noontide dew;
And these at least, though far between and few,
May catch the sense like subtle forest spells.
So take these kindly, even though there be
Some notes that unto other lyres belong,
Stray echoes from the elder sons of song;
And think how from its neighbouring native sea
The pensive shell doth borrow melody.
I would not do the lordly masters wrong
By filching fair words from the shining throng
Whose music haunts me as the wind a tree!
Lo, when a stranger in soft Syrian glooms
Shot through with sunset treads the cedar dells,
And hears the breezy ring of elfin bells
Far down by where the white-haired cataract booms,
He, faint with sweetness caught from forest smells,
Bears thence, unwitting, plunder of perfumes.
poem by Henry Kendall
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In Summer
Oh, summer has clothed the earth
In a cloak from the loom of the sun!
And a mantle, too, of the skies' soft blue,
And a belt where the rivers run.
And now for the kiss of the wind,
And the touch of the air's soft hands,
With the rest from strife and the heat of life,
With the freedom of lakes and lands.
I envy the farmer's boy
Who sings as he follows the plow;
While the shining green of the young blades lean
To the breezes that cool his brow.
He sings to the dewy morn,
No thought of another's ear;
But the song he sings is a chant for kings
And the whole wide world to hear.
He sings of the joys of life,
Of the pleasures of work and rest,
From an o'erfull heart, without aim or art;
'T is a song of the merriest.
O ye who toil in the town,
And ye who moil in the mart,
Hear the artless song, and your faith made strong
Shall renew your joy of heart.
Oh, poor were the worth of the world
If never a song were heard,--
If the sting of grief had no relief,
And never a heart were stirred.
So, long as the streams run down,
And as long as the robins trill,
Let us taunt old Care with a merry air,
And sing in the face of ill.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Wind Chimes
Hangin' down from my window
Those are my wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
In the late afternoon you're
Hung up on wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
Though it's hard i try
Not to look at my wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
Now and then a tear rolls on my cheek
On a warm breeze the little bells
Tinklin' wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
Close your eyes and lean back
Listen to wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
It's so peaceful
Close to a lullabye
The wind chimes tinglin'
Tinglin'
Tinglin'
Tinglin'
The wind chimes tinglin'
Tinglin'
Tinglin'
Tinglin'
Da do do da do do da do do da do do
Whisperin' winds send my wind chimes a tinklin'
Whisperin' winds send my wind chimes a tinklin'
Whisperin' winds send my wind chimes a tinklin'
Whisperin' winds send my wind chimes a tinklin'
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Days
The old days--the far days--
The overdear and fair!--
The old days--the lost days--
How lovely they were!
The old days of Morning,
With the dew-drench on the flowers
And apple-buds and blossoms
Of those old days of ours.
Then was the _real_ gold
Spendthrift Summer flung;
Then was the _real_ song
Bird or Poet sung!
There was never censure then,--
Only honest praise--
And all things were worthy of it
In the old days.
There bide the true friends--
The first and the best;
There clings the green grass
Close where they rest:
Would they were here? No;--
Would _we_ were _there_!...
The old days--the lost days--
How lovely they were!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Between The Rapids
The point is turned; the twilight shadow fills
The wheeling stream, the soft receding shore,
And on our ears from deep among the hills
Breaks now the rapid's sudden quickening roar.
Ah yet the same, or have they changed their face,
The fair green fields, and can it still be seen,
The white log cottage near the mountain's base,
So bright and quiet, so home-like and serene?
Ah, well I question, for as five years go,
How many blessings fall, and how much woe.
Aye there they are, nor have they changed their cheer,
The fields, the hut, the leafy mountain brows;
Across the lonely dusk again I hear
The loitering bells, the lowing of the cows,
The bleat of many sheep, the stilly rush
Of the low whispering river, and through all,
Soft human tongues that break the deepening hush
With faint-heard song or desultory call:
Oh comrades hold; the longest reach is past;
The stream runs swift, and we are flying fast.
The shore, the fields, the cottage just the same,
But how with them whose memory makes them sweet?
Oh if I called them, hailing name by name,
Would the same lifts the same old shouts repeat?
Have the rough years, so big with death and ill,
Gone lightly by and left them smiling yet?
Wild black-eyed Jeanne whose tongue was never still,
Old wrinkled Picaud, Pierre and pale Lisette,
The homely hearts that never cared to range,
While life's wide fields were filled with rush and change.
And where is Jacques, and where is Verginie?
I cannot tell; the fields are all a blur.
The lowing cows whose shapes I scarcely see,
Oh do they wait and do they call for her?
And is she changed, or is her heart still clear
As wind or morning, light as river foam?
Or have life's changes borne her far from here,
And far from rest, and far from help and home?
Ah comrades, soft, and let us rest awhile,
For arms grow tired with paddling many a mile.
The woods grow wild, and from the rising shore
The cool wind creeps, the faint wood odours steal;
Like ghosts down the rivers blackening floor
The misty fumes begin to creep and reel.
Once more I leave you, wandering toward the night,
Sweet home, sweet heart, that would have held me in;
Whither I go I know not, and the light
Is faint before, and rest is hard to win.
Ah sweet ye were and near to heaven's gate;
But youth is blind and wisdom comes too late.
Blacker and loftier grow the woods, and hark!
The freshening roar! The chute is near us now,
And dim the canyon grows, and inky dark
The water whispering from the birchen prow.
One long last look, and many a sad adieu,
While eyes can see and heart can feel you yet,
I leave sweet home and sweeter hearts to you,
A prayer for Picaud, one for pale Lisette,
A kiss for Pierre, my little Jacques, and thee,
A sigh for Jeanne, a sob for Verginie.
Oh, does she still remember? Is the dream
Now dead, or has she found another mate?
So near, so dear; and ah, so swift the stream;
Even now perhaps it were not yet too late.
But oh, what matter; for before the night
Has reached its middle, we have far to go:
Bend to your paddles, comrades; see, the light
Ebbs off apace; we must not linger so.
Aye thus it is! Heaven gleams and then is gone
Once, twice, it smiles, and still we wander on.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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Twilight in the Alps
I love the hour that comes, with dusky hair
And dewy feet, along the Alpine dells
To lead the cattle forth. A thousand bells
Go chiming after her across the fair
And flowery uplands, while the rosy flare
Of sunset on the snowy mountain dwells,
And valleys darken, and the drowsy spells
Of peace are woven through the purple air.
Dear is the magic of this hour: she seems
To walk before the dark by falling rills,
And lend a sweeter song to hidden streams;
She opens all the doors of night, and fills
With moving bells the music of my dreams,
That wander far among the sleeping hills.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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The Lost Bells
Year after year the artist wrought
With earnest, loving care,
The music flooding all his soul
To pour upon the air.
For this no metal was too rare,
He counted not the cost;
Nor deemed the years in which he toiled
As labor vainly lost.
When morning flushed with crimson light
The golden gates of day,
He longed to fill the air with chimes
Sweet as a matin's lay.
And when the sun was sinking low
Within the distant West,
He gladly heard the bells he wrought
Herald the hour of rest.
The music of a thousand harps
Could never be so dear
As when those solemn chants and thrills
Fell on his list'ning ear.
He poured his soul into their chimes,
And felt his toil repaid;
He called them children of his soul,
His home a'near them made.
But evil days came on apace,
War spread his banner wide,
And from his village snatched away
The artist's love and pride.
At dewy morn and stilly eve
The chimes no more he heard;
With dull and restless agony
His spirit's depths was stirred.
A weary longing filled his soul,
It bound him like a spell;
He left his home to seek the chimes --
The chimes he loved so well.
Where lofty fanes in grandeur rose,
Upon his ear there fell
No music like the long lost chimes
Of his beloved bell.
And thus he wandered year by year.
Touched by the hand of time,
Seeking to hear with anxious heart
Each well remembered chime.
And to that worn and weary heart
There came a glad surcease:
He heard again the dear old chimes,
And smiled and uttered peace.
"The chimes! the chimes!" the old man cried,
"I hear their tones at last;"
A sudden rapture filled his heart,
And all his cares were past.
Yes, peace had come with death's sweet calm,
His journeying was o'er,
The weary, restless wanderer
Had reached the restful shore.
It may be that he met again,
Enfolded in the air,
The dear old chimes beside the gates
Where all is bright and fair;
That he who crossed and bowed his head
When Angelus was sung
In clearer light touched golden harps
By angel fingers strung.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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In an Old Town Garden
Shut from the clamor of the street
By an old wall with lichen grown,
It holds apart from jar and fret
A peace and beauty all its own.
The freshness of the springtime rains
And dews of morning linger here;
It holds the glow of summer noons
And ripest twilights of the year.
Above its bloom the evening stars
Look down at closing of the day,
And in its sweet and shady walks
Winds spent with roaming love to stray,
Upgathering to themselves the breath
Of wide-blown roses white and red,
The spice of musk and lavender
Along its winding alleys shed.
Outside are shadeless, troubled streets
And souls that quest for gold and gain,
Lips that have long forgot to smile
And hearts that burn and ache with pain.
But here is all the sweet of dreams,
The grace of prayer, the boon of rest,
The spirit of old songs and loves
Dwells in this garden blossom-blest.
Here would I linger for a space,
And walk herein with memory;
The world will pass me as it may
And hope will minister to me.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Yet a Little Sleep
Beside the drowsy streams that creep
Within this island of repose,
Oh, let us rest from cares and woes,
Oh, let us fold our hands to sleep!
Is it ignoble, then, to keep
Awhile from where the rough wind blows,
And all is strife, and no man knows
What end awaits him on the deep?
The voyager may rest awhile,
When rest invites, and yet may be
Neither a sluggard nor a craven.
With strength renewed he quits the isle,
And putting out again to sea,
Makes sail for his desired haven.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Birds of Spring
Birds of spring they
bring on so many things
sounds they send
to each other,
that only they
can understand
in their sweet
cheerful harmony.
Sweet smell in
the air this
beautiful april day
listening to these creatures.
Taking in the warmth
of the sun that
is so overdue, blue
skies beauty to the eye.
Birds in flight
from one tree
to the other, getting
ready to produce life.
Cool breezes this
day so fine to hear
birds of spring echoing
music to my ear.
Birds of spring
to many to mention you all,
Robbins, Wrens and Cardinals
or a few I see, oh so beautiful.
To hear their chirping
wondering what they're saying
at this moment
will sit here for awhile.
Sounds this day
so relaxing is it
to listen to these
birds of spring.
wrote 4-3-07
Can We Just Stop & Talk Awhile
(jose mari chan)
Fancy meeting you alone in the crowd
Couldn't help but notice your smile
While everybody else around us is going about
Can we just stop and talk awhile?
I've been often told our world's growing old
And that friends are harder to find
Do tell me more about yourself
We could share a thought or two
Now who would mind?
Maybe then we could go for a ride
Drive down to the countryside
Get away from the gray
And frenzied hurly-burly of the city life
Early yet to say what lies ahead
It's the first day of the rest of our lives
Can we just stop and talk awhile
Get to know each other
Who are we to know?
Love could be waiting at the end
'round that bend and so
Let's stop and talk awhile
Maybe then we could go for a ride
Drive down to the countryside
Get away from the gray
And frenzied hurly-burly of the city life
Early yet to say what lies ahead
It's the first day of the rest of our lives
Can we just stop and talk awhile
Get to know each other
Who are we to know?
Love could be waiting at the end
'round that bend and so
Let's stop and talk awhile
Let's stop and talk awhile
Let's stop and talk awhile
Let's stop and talk awhile
song performed by by Lea Salonga
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rest Your Love On Me
(barry gibb)
Maybe you dont know me anymore than I know you
And I wouldnt blame you if you walked away
Ive been watching you all evening
With the teardrops in your eyes
And it touches me much more than I can say
You know I hate to think that someone
Could have hurt someone like you
And at times like this Id be right by your side
Lay your troubles on my shoulders
Put your worries in my pocket
Rest your love on me awhile
Lay your troubles on my shoulders
Put your worries in my pocket
Rest your love on me awhile
Saw you in the corner on the moment I walked in
Saw your lonely face across the room
No, I wont forget it
And the way it might have been
Oh, why did you have to leave so soon?
You know I hate to think that someone
Could have loved you more than me
And if I was them Id be right by your side
Lay your troubles on my shoulders
Put your worries in my pocket
Rest your love on me awhile
Lay your troubles on my shoulders
Put your worries in my pocket
Rest your love on me awhile
How long must I wait
For the last train to leave here
And the last chance to go home?
Get to thinking I was born too soon
How long, honey
When the lovin dont come
It was there when you left me
Just didnt know how to begin
Lay your troubles on my shoulders
Put your worries in my pocket
Rest your love on me awhile
Lay your troubles on my shoulders
Put your worries in my pocket
Rest your love on me awhile
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Will Let You Go
Here we stand
Each of us afraid to make a sound
Hoping love will turn this thing around
And I know what I must do
Chorus:
So I will let you go
Yes fly away my love
Linger for awhile
Live for a strangers smile
And hope it is enough
Youll return
But I must let you go
Sometimes
Two steps back is just what lovers need
Not knowing that its love
That makes us free
So Ill be brave and retreat
Chorus:
cause I will let you go
Fly away my love
Linger for awhile
Live for a strangers smile
And hope that is enough
Youll return
But I must let you go
No its not, no its not fair darling
Missing precious hours, precious days
Making you figure out
What I know to be true
Love remains
Fly away my love
Linger for awhile
Live for a strangers smile
And hope that is enough
Youll return
I know
But I must let you go
song performed by by Debbie Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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