The Secretary
While with labour assiduous due pleasure I mix,
And in one day atone for the business of six,
In a little Dutch chaise, on a Saturday night,
On my left hand my Horace, a W* on my right
No memoirs to compose, and no postboy to move,
That on Sunday may hinder the softness of love;
For her, neither visits, nor parties at tea,
Nor the long-winded cant of a dull refugee:
This night and the next shall be here, shall be mine,
To good or ill fortune the third we resign:
Thus scorning the world, and superior to fate,
I drive on my car in processional state;
So with Phia through Athens Pisistratus rode,
Men thought her Minerva, and him a new god.
But why should I stories of Athens rehearse,
Where people knew love, and were partial to verse;
Since none can with justice my pleasure oppose,
In Holland half drown'd in interest and prose?
By Greece and past ages what need I be tried,
When the Hague and the present are both on my side?
And is it enough for the joys of the day
To think what Anacreon or Sappho would say?
When good Vendergoes and his provident Vrow,
As they gaze on my triumph, do freely allow
That search all the province, you'll find no man dar is
So bless'd as the
English heer Secretar'
is.
poem by Matthew Prior
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Fortune Of The Night
Written by neil diamond, tom hensley, and alan lindgren
Fortune of the night,
Callin out my name and saying shell be mine tonight,
Fortune of the night.
Oh, my heart is tellin me,
Oh, I better put a move on.
If she got away,
Then not a day would go by without some blue song.
All my life,
Ive waited for just tonight
To say that I love her.
And all this time,
Ive wanted to call her mine
And how her I love her.
Fortune of the night,
Callin out my name and saying
I will find her.
Fortune of the night,
Is there any doubt Ill need to have her by my side,
Fortune of the night?
Fortune of the night.
And oh, Im really movin now cause,
Oh, I would feel like a fool, yeah,
If she got away.
Theyd only say the rumors would truly be true, yeah,
That all this time
I waited to call you mine.
And you got to know it.
Fortune of the night,
Callin out my name and saying I will find her.
Fortune of the night,
Isnt any doubt Ill need to have you by my side,
Fortune of the night.
To want her,
To love her,
Oh, I do.
And nows my time.
Ive waited, but nows my time to show that I love her.
Fortune of the night,
Callin out to me and saying I was chosen.
Fortune of the night,
Tellin me that well be there
Until the morning light,
Fortune of the night.
Ah ah ah ah ah
Fortune of the night,
I hear you call.
Ah ah ah ah ah
Are you gonna keep an eye on me tonight?
Ah ah ah ah ah fortune of the night, I hear you call.
Ah ah ah ah ah are you gonna sing your song with me sometime?
Ah ah ah ah ah fortune of the night, I hear you call.
Ah ah ah ah ah are you gonna shine your light on me and make her mine?
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Apology To Dr. Clayton, Bishop Of Killala, And His Lady
My Lord of Killala, I find to my Sorrow,
I can't have the Honour I hop'd for, Tomorrow.
But why I'm so wretched, my Friend must rehearse;
For I never can write my Vexations in Verse.
Disappointments are sent to poor Mortals to show,
'Tis in vain to expect to be happy below.
Yet you've a fair Prospect, it must be confess'd,
Who with Fortune, and Station, and Delia are bless'd;
With Delia, whose Soul is so fitted for you,
Who shares, with such Pleasure, the Good which you do;
Who visits your See with far other Designs,
Than conning your Rent--rolls, and raising your Fines.
No longer let Rome her old Argument boast,
That by Marriage the End of the Priesthood is lost;
That, toil'd and entangled in Family Cares,
The Clergy forget their celestial Affairs:
For, had she known Delia, she must have confess'd,
That the Church, in the Marriage of Prelates, was bless'd.
poem by Mary Barber
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Saturday Sun
Saturday sun came early one morning
In a sky so clear and blue
Saturday sun came without warning
So no-one knew what to do.
Saturday sun brought people and faces
That didnt seem much in their day
But when I remember those people and places
They were really too good in their way.
In their way
In their way
Saturday sun wont come and see me today.
Think about stories with reason and rhyme
Circling through your brain.
And think about people in their season and time
Returning again and again
And again
And again
And saturdays sun has turned to sundays rain.
So sunday sat in the saturday sun
And wept for a day gone by.
song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another Saturday Night
Thought Id seen some changes
Thought I knew it well
But through my back pages
Theres a tale to tell
Guess when I saw you
I didnt have a chance
Though I know her reputation
I know I liked that first dance
Was this a real love
Or just another hot saturday night?
Was this a real love
Or just another hot saturday night?
Cant stop from thinkin
What we could do
Just one night there
I finally knew
Lookin at the distance
Between you and my heart
I never knew Id fall
Right from the start
Was this a real love
Or just another hot saturday night?
Was this a real love
Or just another hot saturday night?
This is one time you cant walk away-
This time Ive got to stay..................
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Saturday Night Sunday Morning
I knew you'd come back
We always do
Like thieves
Returning to the scene of the crime
But did they tell you
Everything has changed
Just everything
Oh, everything has changed
Just everything
It's not Saturday Night Sunday Morning
There was something else I meant to say
It's not Saturday Night Sunday Morning
There was so much more I meant to say to you
You know they still like to talk about you
But they don't want anything too real
So most of the conversation revolves around
Things that happened 20 years ago at least
They must have told you
Everything has changed everything
Oh, everything must change everything
It's not Saturday Night Sunday Morning
There was something else I meant to say
It's not Saturday Night Sunday Morning
There was so much more I meant to say to you
It's not Saturday Night Sunday Morning
There was something else I meant to say
It's not Saturday Night Sunday Morning
There was so much more I meant to say to you
oh oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Horse And The Olive: Or, War And Peace
With Moral Tale let Ancient Wisdom move,
Which thus I sing to make the Moderns wise:
Strong Neptune once with sage Minerva strove,
And rising Athens was the Victor's Prize.
By Neptune, Plutus (Guardian Pow'r of Gain),
By Great Minerva, Bright Apollo stood:
But Jove superior bad the Side obtain
Which best contriv'd to do the Nation Good.
Then Neptune striking, from the parted Ground
The Warlike Horse came pawing on the Plain,
And as it toss'd its Mane, and pranc'd around,
By this, he cries, I'll make the People Reign.
The Goddess smiling gently bow'd the Spear,
And, rather thus they shall be bless'd, she said;
Then upwards shooting in the Vernal Air
With loaded Boughs the fruitful Olive spread.
Jove saw what Gifts the Rival Pow'rs design'd,
And took th' impartial Scales, resolv'd to show,
If greater Bliss in Warlike Pomp we find,
Or in the Calm which Peaceful Times bestow.
On Neptune's part he plac'd Victorious Days,
Gay Trophies won, and Fame extending wide:
But Plenty, Safety, Science, Arts, and Ease,
Minerva's Scale with greater Weight supply'd.
Fierce War devours whom gentle Peace wou'd save,
Sweet Peace restores what angry War destroys,
War made for Peace with that rewards the Brave,
While Peace its Pleasures from it self enjoys.
Hence vanquish'd Neptune to the Sea withdrew,
Hence wise Minerva rul'd Athenian Lands,
Her Athens hence in Arts and Honour grew,
And still her Olives deck pacifick Hands.
From Fables thus disclos'd, a Monarch's Mind
May form just Rules to chuse the Truly-Great:
And Subjects weary'd with Distresses find
Whose kind Endeavours most befriend the State.
Ev'n Britain here may learn to place her Love,
If Cities won her Kingdoms Wealth have cost,
If Anna's Thoughts the patriot-souls approve
Whose Cares restore that Wealth the Wars had lost.
But if we ask the Moral to disclose
Whom best europa's Patroness it calls,
Great ANNA's Title no Exception knows,
And unapply'd in this the Fable falls.
With Her no Neptune or Minerva vyes;
Whene'er she pleas'd her Troops to Conquest flew,
Whene'er she pleases Peaceful Times arise:
She gave the Horse, and gives the Olive too.
poem by Thomas Parnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On the Death of E. Waller, Esq.
How, to thy Sacred Memory, shall I bring
(Worthy thy Fame) a grateful Offering?
I, who by Toils of Sickness, am become
Almost as near as thou art to a Tomb?
While every soft, and every tender Strain
Is ruffl'd, and ill-natur'd grown with Pain.
But, at thy Name, my languisht Muse revives,
And a new Spark in the dull Ashes strives.
I hear thy tuneful Verse, thy Song Divine;
And am lnspir'd by every charming Line.
But, Oh! –––––––––
What Inspiration, at the second hand,
Can an Immortal Elegic Command?
Unless, Me Pious Offerings, mine should be
Made Sacred, being Consecrate to thee.
Eternal, as thy own Almighty Verse,
Should be those Trophies that adom thy Hearse.
The Thought Illustrious, and the Fancy Young;
The Wit Sublime, the Judgment Fine, and Strong;
Soft, as thy Notes to Sacharissa sung.
Whilst mine, like Transitory Flowers, decay,
That come to deck thy Tomb a short-liv'd Day.
Such Tributes are, like Tenures, only fit
To shew from whom we hold our Right to Wit.
Hafl, wondrous Bard, whose Heav'n-born Genius first
My Infant Muse, and Blooming Fancy Nurst.
With thy soft Food of Love I first began,
Then fed on nobler Panegyrick Strain,
Numbers Seraphic! and, at every View,
My Soul extended, and much larger grew:
Where e're I Read, new Raptures seiz'd my Blood;
Methought I heard the Language of a God.
Long did the untun'd World in Ignorance stray,
Producing nothing that was Great and Gay,
Till taught, by thee, the true Poetick way.
Rough were the Tracts before, Dull, and Obscure;
Nor Pleasure, nor Instruction could procure.
Their thoughtless Labour could no Passion move;
Sure, in that Age, the Poets knew not Love:
That Charming God, like Apparitions, then
Was only talk'd on, but ne're seen by Men:
Darkness was o're the Muses Land displaid,
And even the Chosen Tribe unguided straid.
Till, by thee rescu'd from th' Egyptian Night,
They now look up, and view the God of Light,
That taught them how to Love, and how to Write;
And to Enhance the Blessing which Heav'n lent,
When for our great Instructor thou wert sent.
Large was thy Life, but yet thy Glories more;
And, like the Sun, did still dispense thy Power,
Producing somthing wondrous every hour:
And, in thy Circulary Course, didst see
The very Life and Death of Poetry.
Thou saw'st the Generous Nine neglected lie,
None listning to their Heav'nly Harmony;
The World being grown to that low Ebb of Sense,
To disesteem the noblest Excellence;
And no Encouragement to Phophets shewn,
Who in past Ages got so great Renown.
Though Fortune Elevated thee above
Its scanty Gratitude, or fickle Love;
Yet, fallen with the World, untir'd by Age,
Scorning th'unthinking Crowd, thou quit'st the Stage.
poem by Aphra Behn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All Night Long
The way I see the world,
It's all a loney road,
A road that I've been on,
For too long, so I'm told,
She was on the search,
On this loney road of mine,
But I was hidden deep,
And me, she could not find,
-chorus-
But she walked all night long, all night long, but couldn't find me
And she walked all night long, all night long, but couldn't find me
I heard her call my name,
As I lifted my head,
'My search is now complete,
Please come with me, ' she said,
'The second time around,
Is easier, you'll see,
Before I looked for you,
I had to search for, me',
-chorus-
But I walked all night long, all night long, but couldn't find me
And I walked all night long, all night long, but couldn't find me
And as we left the road,
I took a look around,
I thought I'd see myself,
But I was no where to be found,
-chorus-
But we walked all night long, all night long, but couldn't find me
And we walked all night long, all night long, but couldn't find me
poem by Lee McVicar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Was A Pleasure Then
It was a pleasure then
Could you just be here again
To know what there was to see
When all the sunday people
Where so quiet in the dark
Afraid to be better the next day
La la la ...
It was a pleasure then
When we could sit and stare again
Until the stars feel through the cloudy trees
Onto the grass
Stars to smile with us
Until they too had tears in their eyes
Tell us this and tell of how much we must not agree
It was a pleasure then
To see the dieing days again
In the horror of the night
Never, never, never, never, never, lise
Keep it secret
For to hide somewhere at last
As long as we could see
The sky confessed this crime
Of futile tasting hate romance
Above our shattered minds
It was a pleasure, it was a pleasure
La la la ...
song performed by by Velvet Underground
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Kind Of Love
I want a sunday kind of love.
A love to last, past saturday night.
Id like to know its more than love at first sight.
I want a sunday kind of love.
And I want a, a love thats on the square.
Cant seem to find somebody, someone to care.
And Im on a lonely road that leads to nowhere.
I need a sunday kind of love.
I do all my sunday dreaming, and all my scheming.
Every minute, every hour, every day
And Im hoping to discover a certain kind of
Lover who will show me the way.
And my arms need someone to enfold
To keep me warm when mondays and tuesdays grow
Cold. and I need a love for all my life to have
And to hold.
I want a sunday kind of love.
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epistle from Arthur Grey, the Footman, to Mrs. Murray, after His Condemnation for Attempting to Comm
Read, lovely nymph, and tremble not to read,
I have no more to wish, nor you to dread;
I ask not life, for life to me were vain,
And death a refuge from severer pain.
My only hope in these last lines I try --
I would be pitied, and I then would die.
Long had I liv'd as sordid as my fate,
Nor curs'd the destiny that made me wait
A servile slave: content with homely food,
The gross instinct of happiness pursued:
Youth gave me sleep at night and warmth of blood.
Ambition yet had never touch'd my breast;
My lordly master knew no sounder rest;
With labour healthy, in obedience blest.
But when I saw -- oh! had I never seen
That wounding softness, that engaging mien!
The mist of wretched education flies,
Shame, fear, desire, despair, and love arise,
The new creation of those beauteous eyes.
But yet that love pursu'd no guilty aim;
Deep in my heart I hid the secret flame:
I never hop'd my fond desire to tell,
And all my wishes were to serve you well.
Heav'ns! how I flew when wing'd by your command,
And kiss'd the letters giv'n me by your hand.
How pleas'd, how proud, how fond I was to wait,
Present the sparkling wine, or change the plate!
How, when you sung, my soul devour'd the sound,
And ev'ry sense was in the rapture drown'd!
Though bid to go, I quite forgot to move;
-- You knew not that stupidity was love!
But oh! the torment not to be express'd,
The grief, the rage, the hell, that fir'd this breast,
When my great rivals, in embroidery gay,
Sate by your side, or led you from the play!
I still contriv'd near as I could to stand
(the flambeau trembling in my shaking hand);
I saw, or thought I saw, those fingers press'd,
For thus their passion by my own I guess'd,
And jealous fury all my soul possess'd.
Like torrents, love and indignation meet,
And madness would have thrown me at your feet.
Turn, lovely nymph (for so I would have said),
Turn from those triflers who make love a trade;
This is true passion in my eyes you see;
They cannot, no -- they cannot love like me;
Frequent debauch has pall'd their sickly taste,
Faint their desire, and in a moment past;
They sigh not from the heart, but from the brain;
Vapours of vanity and strong champagne.
Too dull to feel what forms like yours inspire,
After long talking of their painted fire,
To some lewd brothel they at night retire;
There, pleas'd with fancy'd quality and charms,
Enjoy your beauties in a strumpet's arms.
Such are the joys those toasters have in view,
And such the wit and pleasure they pursue;
-- And is this love that ought to merit you?
Each opera night a new address begun,
They swear to thousands what they swear to one.
Not thus I sigh -- but all my sighs are vain --
Die, wretched Arthur, and conceal thy pain:
'Tis impudence to wish, and madness to complain.
Fix'd on this view, my only hope of ease,
I waited not the aid of slow disease;
The keenest instruments of death I sought,
And death alone employ'd my lab'ring thought.
This all the night -- when I remember well
The charming tinkle of your morning bell!
Fir'd by the sound, I hasten'd with your tea,
With one last look to smooth the darksome way --
But oh! how dear that fatal look has cost!
In that fond moment my resolves were lost.
Hence all my guilt, and all your sorrows rise --
I saw the languid softness of your eyes;
I saw the dear disorder of your bed;
Your cheeks all glowing with a tempting red;
Your night-clothes tumbled with resistless grace,
Your flowing hair play'd careless down your face
Your night-gown fasten'd with a single pin;
-- Fancy improv'd the wondrous charms within!
I fix'd my eyes upon that heaving breast,
And hardly, hardly, I forbore the rest:
Eager to gaze, unsatisfied with sight,
My head grew giddy with the near delight!
-- Too well you know the fatal following night!
Th'extremest proof of my desire I give,
And since you will not love, I will not live.
Condemn'd by you, I wait the righteous doom.
Careless and fearless of the woes to come.
But when you see me waver in the wind,
My guilty flame extinct, my soul resign'd,
Sure you may pity what you can't approve,
The cruel consequence of furious love.
Think the bold wretch, that could so greatly dare,
Was tender, faithful, ardent, and sincere;
Think when I held the pistol to your breast, --
Had I been of the world's large rule possess'd, --
That world had then been yours, and I been blest;
Think that my life was quite below my care,
Nor fear'd I any hell beyond despair. --
If these reflections, though they seize you late,
Give some compassion for your Arthur's fate:
Enough you give, nor ought I to complain:
You pay my pangs, nor have I died in vain.
poem by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Epistle from Arthur Grey, the Footman, to Mrs. Murray, after His Condemnation for Attempting to Commit Violence.
Read, lovely nymph, and tremble not to read,
I have no more to wish, nor you to dread;
I ask not life, for life to me were vain,
And death a refuge from severer pain.
My only hope in these last lines I try --
I would be pitied, and I then would die.
Long had I liv'd as sordid as my fate,
Nor curs'd the destiny that made me wait
A servile slave: content with homely food,
The gross instinct of happiness pursued:
Youth gave me sleep at night and warmth of blood.
Ambition yet had never touch'd my breast;
My lordly master knew no sounder rest;
With labour healthy, in obedience blest.
But when I saw -- oh! had I never seen
That wounding softness, that engaging mien!
The mist of wretched education flies,
Shame, fear, desire, despair, and love arise,
The new creation of those beauteous eyes.
But yet that love pursu'd no guilty aim;
Deep in my heart I hid the secret flame:
I never hop'd my fond desire to tell,
And all my wishes were to serve you well.
Heav'ns! how I flew when wing'd by your command,
And kiss'd the letters giv'n me by your hand.
How pleas'd, how proud, how fond I was to wait,
Present the sparkling wine, or change the plate!
How, when you sung, my soul devour'd the sound,
And ev'ry sense was in the rapture drown'd!
Though bid to go, I quite forgot to move;
-- You knew not that stupidity was love!
But oh! the torment not to be express'd,
The grief, the rage, the hell, that fir'd this breast,
When my great rivals, in embroidery gay,
Sate by your side, or led you from the play!
I still contriv'd near as I could to stand
(the flambeau trembling in my shaking hand);
I saw, or thought I saw, those fingers press'd,
For thus their passion by my own I guess'd,
And jealous fury all my soul possess'd.
Like torrents, love and indignation meet,
And madness would have thrown me at your feet.
Turn, lovely nymph (for so I would have said),
Turn from those triflers who make love a trade;
This is true passion in my eyes you see;
They cannot, no -- they cannot love like me;
Frequent debauch has pall'd their sickly taste,
Faint their desire, and in a moment past;
They sigh not from the heart, but from the brain;
Vapours of vanity and strong champagne.
Too dull to feel what forms like yours inspire,
After long talking of their painted fire,
To some lewd brothel they at night retire;
There, pleas'd with fancy'd quality and charms,
Enjoy your beauties in a strumpet's arms.
Such are the joys those toasters have in view,
And such the wit and pleasure they pursue;
-- And is this love that ought to merit you?
Each opera night a new address begun,
They swear to thousands what they swear to one.
Not thus I sigh -- but all my sighs are vain --
Die, wretched Arthur, and conceal thy pain:
'Tis impudence to wish, and madness to complain.
Fix'd on this view, my only hope of ease,
I waited not the aid of slow disease;
The keenest instruments of death I sought,
And death alone employ'd my lab'ring thought.
This all the night -- when I remember well
The charming tinkle of your morning bell!
Fir'd by the sound, I hasten'd with your tea,
With one last look to smooth the darksome way --
But oh! how dear that fatal look has cost!
In that fond moment my resolves were lost.
Hence all my guilt, and all your sorrows rise --
I saw the languid softness of your eyes;
I saw the dear disorder of your bed;
Your cheeks all glowing with a tempting red;
Your night-clothes tumbled with resistless grace,
Your flowing hair play'd careless down your face
Your night-gown fasten'd with a single pin;
-- Fancy improv'd the wondrous charms within!
I fix'd my eyes upon that heaving breast,
And hardly, hardly, I forbore the rest:
Eager to gaze, unsatisfied with sight,
My head grew giddy with the near delight!
-- Too well you know the fatal following night!
Th'extremest proof of my desire I give,
And since you will not love, I will not live.
Condemn'd by you, I wait the righteous doom.
Careless and fearless of the woes to come.
But when you see me waver in the wind,
My guilty flame extinct, my soul resign'd,
Sure you may pity what you can't approve,
The cruel consequence of furious love.
Think the bold wretch, that could so greatly dare,
Was tender, faithful, ardent, and sincere;
Think when I held the pistol to your breast, --
Had I been of the world's large rule possess'd, --
That world had then been yours, and I been blest;
Think that my life was quite below my care,
Nor fear'd I any hell beyond despair. --
If these reflections, though they seize you late,
Give some compassion for your Arthur's fate:
Enough you give, nor ought I to complain:
You pay my pangs, nor have I died in vain.
poem by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pain Is So Close To Pleasure
Words and music by freddie mercury and john deacon
Ooh ooh pain is so close to pleasure oh yeah
Sunshine and rainy weather go hand in hand together all
Your life
Ooh ooh pain is so close to pleasure everybody knows
One day we love each other then were fighting one another
All the time
When I was young and just getting started
And people talked to me they sounded broken hearted
Then I grew up and got my imagination
And all I wanted was to start a new relation
So in love but love had a bad reaction
I was looking for some good old satisfaction
But pain is all I got when all I needed was some love and
Affection
Ooh ooh pain is so close to pleasure yeah yeah
Sunshine and rainy weather go hand in hand together all
Your life
Pain and pleasure
Ooh ooh pain and pleasure
When your plans go wrong and you turn out the light
But inside of your mind you have to put up a fight
Where are the answers that were all searching for
Theres nothing in this world to be sure of anymore
Some days youre feeling good some days youre feeling bad
But if youre feeling happy someone else is always sad
Let the sweetness of love wipe the tears from your face
For better for worse so lets make the best of the rest of our
Years
Ooh ooh pain is so close to pleasure I told you so
Sunshine and rainy weather go hand in hand together all
Your life
Pain and pleasure
Ooh ooh pain is so close to pleasure yeah yeah
Sunshine and rainy weather go hand in hand together all
Your life
All your life
Pain - pleasure ....
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seeger's Theme
by David Gates
Monday had a sad child,
Always feeling low down.
Tuesday had a dream child,
She's always on the go
So I'm in love with Saturday's child.
Every time you take her out at night
(She drives me wild)
You want to kiss and hold her way up tight,
(Gonna spend my time)
You can tell the future's looking bright.
(Making sure that Saturday's child is mine)
If you love a Wednesday,
You live your life apart now.
And if you love a Thursday,
She's gonna break your heart
So I'm in love with Saturday's child.
Every time you hold her close you'll see
(She drives me wild)
You can feel the furor that's gonna be,
(Gonna spend my time)
Now the future has a guarantee.
(Making sure that Saturday's child is mine)
Seven days of the week made to choose from,
But only one is right for me.
I know that Saturday's got what it takes, babe,
I can tell by the way she looks at me.
SOLO
Ohh...
Friday likes a good life,
She'll take you for a ride, now.
And Sunday makes a good wife,
She wants to be your bride
So I'm in love with Saturday's child.
Every time you take her out at night
(She drives me wild)
You want to kiss and hold her way up tight
(Gonna spend my time)
You can tell the future's looking bright.
(Making sure that Saturday's child is mine)
(Saturday's child)
Every time you take her out at night
(She drives me wild)
You want to kiss and hold her way up tight
(Gonna spend my time)
You can tell the future's looking bright.
(Making sure that Saturday's child is mine)
(Saturday's child)
(fade out)
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maid of Athens, Ere We Part
The Greek Refrain at the end of each stanza was translated by the author as "My life, I love thee."
Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, oh, give back my heart!
Or, since that has left my breast,
Keep it now, and take the rest!
Hear my vow before I go,
Ζωή μου, σᾶς ἀγαπῶ.
By those tresses unconfined,
Wooed by each Aegean wind;
By those lids whose jetty fringe
Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge;
By those wild eyes like the roe,
Ζωή μου, σᾶς ἀγαπῶ.
By that lip I long to taste;
By that zone-encircled waist;
By all the token-flowers that tell
What words can never speak so well;
By love's alternate joy and woe,
Ζωή μου, σᾶς ἀγαπῶ.
Maid of Athens! I am gone:
Think of me, sweet! when alone.
Though I fly to Istambol,
Athens holds my heart and soul:
Can I cease to love thee? No!
Ζωή μου, σᾶς ἀγαπῶ.
poem by Byron (1810)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Dirge
Deserted of her Spouse, she sat lamenting in the chamber.
Hast thou gone and left me,
Void of faults but strictly true?
Fly far away
Without delay,
Adieu, my love, adieu.
Hast thou gone and left me,
Hence to seek another bride?
I must be still,
Thou hast thy will,
The world is free and wide.
Only hadst thou told me
Ere I drunk the bitter cup,
I could with shame,
Now bear the blame,
And freely give thee up.
But I'm left to ponder,
Now in the depth of sorrow's gloom;
Like some dull sprite,
In dead of night,
Bewailing o'er her tomb.
Swiftly fly and welcome;
It is the fate of fools to rove;
With whom I know
Wedlock is woe
Without the stream of love.
Where constant love is wanting,
Pleasure has not long to dwell;
I view my fate,
Alas, too late!
So partner, fare thee well.
But, my love, remember,
Hence we meet and face to face,
Thy heart shall ache,
Thy soul shall quake,
The wretch of all disgrace.
poem by George Moses Horton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good-Night
Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill
Which severs those it should unite;
Let us remain together still,
Then it will be good night.
How can I call the lone night good,
Though thy sweet wishes wing its flight?
Be it not said, thought, understood --
Then it will be -- good night.
To hearts which near each other move
From evening close to morning light,
The night is good; because, my love,
They never say good-night.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On More Saturday Night
One More Saturday Night
-----------------------
I went down to the mountain, I was drinkin' some wine,
looked up in the heavens Lord I saw a mighty sign,
written in fire across the heavens, plain as black and white;
Get prepared, there's gonna be a party tonight.
Uhuh, Hey! Saturday Night!
Yeh, uhuh one more Saturday night,
Hey saturday night !
Everybody's dancin' down the local armory
with a basement full of dynamite and light artillery.
The temperature keeps risin', everybody gittin' high;
come the rockin' stroke of midnite, the place is gonna fly.
Uhuh, Hey! Saturday Night!
Yeh, uhuh one more Saturday night,
Hey saturday night !
Turn on channel six, the President comes on the news,
says "I get no satisfaction, that's why I sing the blues."
These wives, they don't get crazy, Lord, they know just what to do,
crank up that old Victrola, put on them rockin' shoes.
Uhuh, Hey! Saturday Night!
Yeh, uhuh one more Saturday night,
Hey saturday night !
When God way up in Heaven, for whatever it was worth,
thought He'd have a big old party, thought He'd call it planet Earth.
Don't worry about tomorrow, Lord, you'll know it when it comes,
when the rock and roll music meets the risin' shinin' sun.
Uhuh, Hey! Saturday Night!
Yeh, uhuh one more Saturday night,
Hey saturday night !
Hey another Saturday night,
Hey another Saturday night,
Everybody gettin' right,
Hey another Saturday night,
One more saturday, one more Saturday night,
Hey another Saturday night,
Hey another Saturday night,
Hey another Saturday night,
One more saturday, one more saturday night.
Hey another Saturday night,
Hey another Saturday night,
Hey another Saturday night,
One more saturday, one more saturday night
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forever
The Way I Feel,
The Way I Do,
The Way I Wanna Be With You,
The Way You Don't Love Me,
The Way I want U 'n' Me,
The Way Is Not My Destiny,
The Way Can Never Be......
The Way My Heart Beats For You,
The Way These Eyes Search For You,
The Way There's A Zeal In Meeting You,
The Way I Wait In The Longest Queue,
Just In A Pleasure Moment Of Meeting You......
The Way Can't Imagine Night Without A Star,
The Way Want You Drive Me A Place So Far,
The Way You Share My Joys And Pain
No Matter How Far We Are,
The Way I Want You Hold My Hand
And Always Stay Together,
The Way You Can Be Never Ever,
But This Way I'll Remain......
Forever.....
poem by Apurva Jain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love The Thought
Love the thought
Driving down an endless road
Taking friends or moving alone
Pleasure at the fairground on the way
Its always friends that feel so good
Lets make amends like all good men should
Pleasure at the fairground on the way
Walk around, be free and roam
Theres always someone leaving alone
Pleasure at the fairground on the way
(chorus:)
And I love the thought of coming home to you
Even if I know we cant make it
Yes I love the thought of giving hope to you
Just a little ray of light shining through
Love can bend and breathe alone
Until the end it finds you a home
Dont care what the people may say
Its always friends that feel so good
Lets make amends like all good men should
Pleasure at the fairground on the way
(chorus)
I love the thought of coming home to you
Even if I know we cant make it
Yes I love the thought of giving hope to you
Just a little ray of light shining through
Pleasure at the fairground on the way
(chorus)
I love the thought of coming home to you
Even if I know we cant make it
Yes I love the thought of giving hope to you
Just a little ray of light shining through
Love (love the thought)
Even if I know we cant make it
L-l-love the thought
L-l-love the thought
song performed by by Simply Red
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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