For The Burns Centennial Celebration
JANUARY 25, 1859
His birthday.--Nay, we need not speak
The name each heart is beating,--
Each glistening eye and flushing cheek
In light and flame repeating!
We come in one tumultuous tide,--
One surge of wild emotion,--
As crowding through the Frith of Clyde
Rolls in the Western Ocean;
As when yon cloudless, quartered moon
Hangs o'er each storied river,
The swelling breasts of Ayr and Doon
With sea green wavelets quiver.
The century shrivels like a scroll,--
The past becomes the present,--
And face to face, and soul to soul,
We greet the monarch-peasant.
While Shenstone strained in feeble flights
With Corydon and Phillis,--
While Wolfe was climbing Abraham's heights
To snatch the Bourbon lilies,--
Who heard the wailing infant's cry,
The babe beneath the sheeliug,
Whose song to-night in every sky
Will shake earth's starry ceiling,--
Whose passion-breathing voice ascends
And floats like incense o'er us,
Whose ringing lay of friendship blends
With labor's anvil chorus?
We love him, not for sweetest song,
Though never tone so tender;
We love him, even in his wrong,--
His wasteful self-surrender.
We praise him, not for gifts divine,--
His Muse was born of woman,--
His manhood breathes in every line,--
Was ever heart more human?
We love him, praise him, just for this
In every form and feature,
Through wealth and want, through woe and bliss,
He saw his fellow-creature!
No soul could sink beneath his love,--
Not even angel blasted;
No mortal power could soar above
The pride that all outlasted!
Ay! Heaven had set one living man
Beyond the pedant's tether,--
His virtues, frailties, HE may scan,
Who weighs them all together!
I fling my pebble on the cairn
Of him, though dead, undying;
Sweet Nature's nursling, bonniest bairn
Beneath her daisies lying.
The waning suns, the wasting globe,
Shall spare the minstrel's story,--
The centuries weave his purple robe,
The mountain-mist of glory!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Related quotes
Silence (Part I)
Sometimes I see you as my child,
Sometimes I see you as my sweetheart,
And when I look into your eyes,
I see that tender and sweet smile,
And I want to say what’s in my heart,
And I want to tell you how I feel,
But my voice remains there, still,
And I just stare at your loving face,
And let the love from my heart,
Flow like a wild river in furious race,
to enfold your sweet and pure soul
with a sea of love and tenderness.
Sometimes there’s so much to say,
but nothing flows from my lips,
And only silence is there to stay,
And only the silence I should keep,
Because what I had to say was already said,
How words could express
never-ending love and tenderness?
How could I just say at one time,
I love you more than my own life?
And there remains the deep silence,
Silence and more silence,
to signal that divine presence,
of my silent love; my heart’s essence.
But this silence is not empty silence,
when divine love fills all my senses,
when nature’s beauty colours your soul,
and fades away all pity and woe.
Because when there is silence,
you can hear the silent language,
the heavenly music of my heart’s song,
God’s eternal music He’s been playing all along,
And in that silence you’ll hear my song,
The endless tune that my love sings,
with the sweetest notes in your luscious dreams,
which eternally flow like endless streams.
(2009)
poem by Roberto Echanes
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St. Mark's Day
Oh! who shall dare in this frail scene
On holiest happiest thoughts to lean,
On Friendship, Kindred, or on Love?
Since not Apostles' hands can clasp
Each other in so firm a grasp
But they shall change and variance prove.
Yet deem not, on such parting sad
Shall dawn no welcome dear and glad:
Divided in their earthly race,
Together at the glorious goal,
Each leading many a rescued soul,
The faithful champions shall embrace.
For e'en as those mysterious Four,
Who the bright whirling wheels upbore
By Chebar in the fiery blast.
So, on their tasks of love and praise
This saints of God their several ways
Right onward speed, yet join at last.
And sometimes e'en beneath the moon
The Saviour gives a gracious boon,
When reconciled Christians meet,
And face to face, and heart to heart,
High thoughts of holy love impart
In silence meek, or converse sweet.
Companion of the Saints! 'twas thine
To taste that drop of peace divine,
When the great soldier of thy Lord
Called thee to take his last farewell,
Teaching the Church with joy to tell
The story of your love restored.
O then the glory and the bliss,
When all that pained or seemed amiss
Shall melt with earth and sin away!
When saints beneath their Saviour's eye,
Filled with each other's company,
Shall spend in love th' eternal day!
poem by John Keble
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All ye nations, praise the Lord,
All ye nations, praise the Lord,
All ye lands your voices raise;
Heaven and earth with loud accord,
Praise the Lord, for ever praise.
For his truth and mercy stand,
Past, and present, and to be,
Like the years of his right hand,
Like his own eternity.
Praise Him, ye who know his love;
Praise Him from the depth beneath;
Praise Him in the heights above;
Praise your Maker, all that breathe.
poem by James Montgomery
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The Sea-Maiden
Like summer waves on sands of snow,
Soft ringlets clasp her neck and brow,
And wandering breezes kiss away
A threaded light of glimmering spray,
That drifts and floats and softly flies
In a golden mist about her eyes.
Her laugh is fresh as foam that springs
Through tumbling shells and shining things,
And where the gleaming margin dries
Is heard the music of her sighs.
Her gentle bosom ebbs and swells
With the tide of life that deeply wells
From a throbbing heart that loves to break
In the tempest of love for love's sweet sake.
O, the fragrance of earth, and the song of the sea,
And the light of the heavens, are only three
Of the thousand glories that Love can trace,
In her life, and her soul, and her beautiful face.
This tangled weed of poesy,
Torn from the heart of a stormy sea,
I fling upon the love divine
Of her, who fills this heart of mine.
poem by Dowell O'Reilly
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Christmas Hymn
O CHRIST, born on the holy day,
I have no gift to give my King;
No flowers grow by my weary way;
I have no birthday song to sing.
How can I sing Thy name and praise,
Who never saw Thy face divine;
Who walk in darkness all my days,
And see no Eastern stars a-shine?
Yet, when their Christmas gifts they bring,
How can I leave Thy praise unsung?
How stay from homage to the King,
And hold a silent, grudging tongue?
Lord, I found many a song to sing,
And many a humble hymn of praise
For Thy great Miracle of Spring,
The wonder of the waxing days.
When I beheld Thy days and years,
Did I not sing Thy pleasant earth?
The moons of love, the years of tears,
The mysteries of death and birth?
Have I not sung with all my soul
While soul and song were mine to yield,
Thy lightning crown, Thy cloud-control,
The dewy clover of Thy field?
Have I not loved Thy birds and beasts,
Thy streams and woods, Thy sun and shade;
Have I not made me holy feasts
Of all the beauty Thou hast made?
What though my tear-tired eyes, alas!
Won never grace Thy face to see?
I heard Thy footstep on the grass,
Thy voice in every wind-blown tree.
No music now I make or win,
Yet, Lord, remember I have been
The lover of Thy world, wherein
I found nought common or unclean.
Grown old and blind, I sing no more,
Thy saints in heaven sing sweet and strong,
Yet take the songs I made of yore
For echoes to Thy birthday song.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Treat It Well, Sweet Lover
Breathe me in, my precious
Swim free beneath my skin
Hold tight the reigns of passion
Our hearts forever kin
Reach in and kiss my soul, sweet love
Offer yours upon my tongue
I long to sip in twilights' bliss
The taste of brine and bone
Lay peace upon my shoulders, sweet
Accept my hand with grace
Together we will meld as one
The lines of doubt erased
I close my eyes, fair angel
So that I may breathe you too
I offer just my heart, my soul
Our flame, still burning true
Listen for my whispers, love
My secrets spilt with dawn
A wind of warm temptations
For dreams to feed upon
Breathe in; breathe out, this burning need
Accept us as a whole
The portrait of our passions
Is colored by our souls
Let us be as one, my flame
To quiver b'neath the sun
Let go the chains that bind you
Our inhibitions be undone
I offer just myself, sweetheart
Wield me as you will
Please take care, my darling
Else the passion spills
I am but yours to conquer
My soul lies at your feet
Treat it well, sweet lover
And yours, I'm sure to be
I'll only know of sorrow, love
If silence claims your song
So sing, sing sweet, my passion
Sing sweet…forever long
******************************
Copyright 2012, Leria Hawkins
poem by Leria Hawkins
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You are the top story of my life
You are my soul and you are my wife
You are the top story of my life
You ride with me on love's joyride
You are my heart's enormous pride
You are the sweet smell of my soul
You help me to reach my high goal
You are the rhythm of my poetry
You are my life's sweetest reverie
You are the moon of my dark night
You are the joy of my eyesight
You are the music of my song
In your tender arms I belong
poem by Asif Andalib
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My One And Only Love
The very thought of you makes
My heart sing
Like an April breeze
On the wings of spring
And you appear in all your splendour
My one and only love
The shadows fall
And spread their mystic charms
In the hush of night
While you're in my arms
I feel your lips so warm and tender
My one and only love
The touch of your hand is like heaven
A heaven that I've never known
The blush on your cheek
Whenever I speak
Tells me that you are my own
You fill my eager heart with
Such desire
Every kiss you give
Sets my soul on fire
I give myself in sweet surrender
My one and only love
The blush on your cheek
Whenever I speak
Tells me that you are my own
You fill my eager heart with
Such desire
Every kiss you give
Sets my soul on fire
I give myself in sweet surrender
My one and only love
My one and only love
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Juliet After The Masquerade. By Thompson
SHE left the festival, for it seem'd dim
Now that her eye no longer dwelt on him,
And sought her chamber,--gazed, (then turn'd away),
Upon a mirror that before her lay,
Half fearing, half believing her sweet face
Would surely claim within his memory place.
The hour was late, and that night her light foot
Had been the constant echo of the lute;
Yet sought she not her pillow, the cool air
Came from the casement, and it lured her there.
The terrace was beneath, and the pale moon
Shone o'er the couch which she had press'd at noon,
Soft-lingering o'er some minstrel's love-lorn page,--
Alas, tears are the poet's heritage!
She flung her on that couch, but not for sleep;
No, it was only that the wind might steep
Her fever'd lip in its delicious dew:
Her brow was burning, and aside she threw
Her cap and plume, and, loosen'd from its fold,
Came o'er her neck and face a shower of gold,
A thousand curls. It was a solitude
Made for young hearts in love's first dreaming mood:--
Beneath the garden lay, fill'd with rose-trees
Whose sighings came like passion on the breeze.
Two graceful statues of the Parian stone
So finely shaped, that as the moonlight shone
The breath of life seem'd to their beauty given,
But less the life of earth than that of heaven.
'Twas PSYCHE and her boy-god, so divine
They turn'd the terrace to an idol shrine,
With its white vases and their summer share
Of flowers, like altars raised to that sweet pair.
And there the maiden leant, still in her ear
The whisper dwelt of that young cavalier;
It was no fancy, he had named the name
Of love, and at that thought her cheek grew flame:
It was the first time her young ear had heard
A lover's burning sigh, or silver word;
Her thoughts were all confusion, but most sweet,--
Her heart beat high, but pleasant was its beat.
She murmur'd over many a snatch of song
That might to her own feelings now belong;
She thought upon old histories she had read,
And placed herself in each high heroine's stead,
Then woke her lute,--oh! there is little known
Of music's power till aided by love's own.
And this is happiness: oh! love will last
When all that made it happiness is past,--
When all its hopes are as the glittering toys
Time present offers, time to come destroys,--
When they have been too often crush'd to earth,
For further blindness to their little worth,--
When fond illusions have dropt one by one,
Like pearls from a rich carkanet, till none
Are left upon life's soil'd and naked string,--
And this is all what time will ever bring.
--And that fair girl,--what can the heart foresee
Of her young love, and of its destiny?
There is a white cloud o'er the moon, its form
Is very light, and yet there sleeps the storm;
It is an omen, it may tell the fate
Of love known all too soon, repented all too late.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Love Elegy, to Henry
Then thou hast learnt the secret of my soul,
Officious Friendship has its trust betrayed;
No more I need the bursting sigh control,
Nor summon pride my struggling soul to aid.
But think not banished hope returns again,
Think not I write thy thankless heart to move;
The faded form that tells my tender pain
May win thy pity, but it can't thy love.
Nor can I move thee by soft winning art,
By manners taught to charm, or practised glance;
Artless as thine, my too too feeling heart
Disdains the tutored eye, the fond advance.
The cold coquette, to win her destined prey,
May feign a passion which she ne'er can feel;
But I true Passion's soft commands obey,
And fain my tender feelings would conceal.
In others' eyes, when fixed on thine, I see
That fondness painted which alone I know;
Think not, my Henry, they can love like me,
More love I hide than they can e'er bestow.
While tender glances their emotions speak,
And oft they heave and oft suppress the sigh;
O turn to me, behold my pallid cheek
Shrinking from thine, behold my downcast eye!
While they by mirth, by wit, thine ear amuse,
And by their eloquence thy plaudits seek;
See me the fond contention still refuse,
Nor in thy presence, Henry, dare to speak.
When asked to breathe the soul-enchanting song,
See them o'erjoyed exert their utmost art;
While vainly I would join the choral throng,
Lost are those tones which once could touch the heart.
But, Henry, wert thou in Love's language wise,
Vainly would others more than Emma shine;
Beyond their sweetest strains thy heart would prize
One faint, one broken, tender tone of mine.
O proofs of passion, eloquent as vain!
By thee unheeded, or perhaps unknown,....
But learn, the pangs that prompt this pensive strain,
Ere long, disdainful youth, may be thine own.
Ah! no....in hopeless love thou canst not pine,
Thou ne'er canst woo the brightest maid in vain;
For thee Love's star midst cloudless skies will shine,
And light thy graceful steps to Hymen's fane:
While I, as hope, and strength, and life recede,
Far, far from thee shall waste the languid day;
Blest, if the scroll that speaks thy bliss I read,
But far more blest to feel life's powers decay.
poem by Amelia Opie
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You are my love so sweet
You are my love so sweet
in You I stand complete
A love so fair, none can compare
You are my love so sweet
O Lover of my soul
Your love has made me whole
A love divine, a love that's mine
O Lover of my soul
So let me sing Your praise
To You my love song raise.
To me You've shown, such love unknown
So let me sing Your praise
Bible in Poetry: Revelation 5
The Scroll and the Lamb:
1To His right hand, I saw a scroll,
With writing on both sides of it,
And sealed with seven seals as well.
2A mighty angel said aloud,
'Who is the worthy one to break
The seals and open scroll, Tell me? '
3But none in heaven or on earth
Or under earth could open scroll
Or look inside it anyway.
4I wept because no one was found
Who was worthy to open it.
5Then one of the elders said to me,
'Don’t weep! The Lion of the Judah tribe,
The Root of David has triumphed.
He will open the scroll and seals.'
6 I saw a Lamb that appeared slain,
And standing in the throne’s center,
Encircled by creatures, elders.
He had horns seven horns and like eyes,
Which are God’s seven big spirits
That are sent out into the earth.
7He took the scroll from his right hand.
8And when he had taken it thus,
The living creatures four fell down
Before the Lamb with the elders.
Each one possessed a harp with it,
And held gold bowls filled with incense,
Which are the prayers of the saints.
9And they sang a new song:
'Worthy are you to take the scroll
And open its seals,
Because you’re slain,
And with your blood,
You purchased men for God,
From every tribe and language,
And people and nation.”
10You’ve made them to be a kingdom,
And priests to serve our Lord and God,
And they will reign upon the earth.'
11And then, I looked and heard the voice
Of many angels, in thousands
Upon thousands in their numbers,
And ten thousand times, ten thousand,
They encircled the splendid throne,
And living creatures and the elders.
12In a loud voice they sang:
'O worthy is the Lamb, who’s slain,
To receive pow’r, wealth, wisdom, strength
And honor, glory and all praise! '
13 And then I heard every creature,
In heaven, earth and in the sea,
And all that is in them, singing:
'To Him who sits upon the throne
And to the Lamb, be praise, honor
Glory and power, forever! '
14The living creatures said, 'Amen, '
While elders fell down, worshiped Him.
poem by John Celes
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Melody
Melody
By: Adam M. Snow
O' Melody, names like the angel's song;
music swaying around thine love
but of thy love my days be long;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
I long to hear thy voice, thy angelic voice
soothes away my hearts desire.
But it be that of love's choice
echoing upon thy voice.
Can thee forever love a lonely man such as I,
or do thee live on knowing not that of love,
or do thee walk passed and curse myself to die?
This feeling, this love O' Melody I cannot deny.
Let me hear thy choir of thy song;
a voice so deep calming the soul.
Let thy voice and passion be strong;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
Sing; let thy voice be heard across the Earth.
Let it pierce thy shadows.
Let the world see a new found birth
and the wonders its worth.
O' Melody, a song I longed after
to cleanse my immortal soul,
to feel the joy and laughter
and be with you hereafter.
O' Melody, names like the angel's song;
music swaying around thine love
but of thy love my days be long;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
O' Melody, play thy music for I love thee.
Thy lyrics be true thy heart,
Thy song be thy key
to set all souls free.
Let me hear thy choir of thy song;
a voice so deep calming the soul.
Let thy voice and passion be strong;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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The German Student’s Love-Song
I.
BY the rush of the Rhine's broad stream,
Down whose rapid tide
We sailed as in some sweet dream
Sitting side by side;
By the depth of its clear blue wave
And the vine-clad hills,
Which gazed on its heart and gave
Their tribute rills;
By the mountains, in purple shade,
And those valleys green
Where our bower of rest was made,
By the world unseen;
By the notes of the wild free bird,
Singing over-head
When nought else in the sunshine stirr'd
Round our flowery bed;
By these, and by Love's power divine,
I have no thought but what is thine!
II.
By the glance of thy radiant eyes,
Where a glory shone
That was half of the summer skies
And half their own;
By the light and yet fervent hold
Of thy gentle hand,--
(As the woodbines the flowers enfold
With their tender band
By thy voice when it breathes in song,
And the echo given
By lips that to Earth belong,
Float up to Heaven;
By the gleams on thy silken hair
At the sunset hour,
And the breadth of they forehead fair
With its thoughtful power;
By these, and by Love's soul divine,
I have no hope but what is thine!
III.
By the beauty and stilness round
When the lake's lone shore
Scarce echoed the pleasant sound
Of the distant oar;
By the moonlight which softly fell
On all objects near,
And thy whisper seemed like a spell
In thy Lover's ear;
By the dreams of the restless past,
And the hope that came
Like sunshine in shadow cast
With thy gentle name;
By the beat of thy good true heart
Where pure thoughts have birth;
By thy tears, when Fate bade us part,
And thy smiles of mirth;
By these, and by Love's power divine,
I have no hope but what is thine!
IV.
By the gloom of those holy fanes
Where the light stream'd through
Dim orange and purple panes
On the aisles below;
By the ruin'd and roofless wall
Of that castle high,
With its turrets so grey and tall
In the clear blue sky;
By beauty, because its light
Should thy portion be,
And whatever is fair and bright
Seems a part of thee;
And by darkness and blank decay,
Because they tell
What the world would be, THOU away,
Whom I love so well;
By these, and by Love's power divine,
My heart, my soul, my life, are thine!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Shake Your Love
Chorus:
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Shake your love
I just cant shake...
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Verse 1:
Im under a spell again
Boy Im wondering why
This is not a game of love but an emotional tie
Im trying to figure out my heart (heart...)
But I cant offer you proof
Of why we should never be apart
And that is the (that is the) that is the truth
Oh...
Chorus:
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Verse 2:
Do you know why I stop and stare
And smile when you walk by
And how I call you up at night
I hang up the phone and I cry
If I never got to know you so well (I knew you well)
Maybe I would be fine
Baby you know that I cant tell
Why you should be (you should be) you should be mine oh
Chorus:
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Shake your love
I just cant shake...
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Bridge:
Ooh I know what youre thinking
I see it in your eyes
You want to give our love another try
Im so glad you realize I cant...
Chorus:
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Rap:
Shake it
Your love
Cant shake
Just cant shake your love
Chorus:
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Shake your love
I just cant shake...
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Shake your love
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Shake your love
I just cant shake..(say shake it)
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Shake your love
I just cant shake...
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
Shake your love
I just cant shake...
Shake your love
I just cant shake your love
song performed by by Debbie Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hymn of Apollo
I.
The sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie,
Curtained with star-inwoven tapestries,
From the broad moonlight of the sky,
Fanning the busy dreams from my dim eyes,--
Waken me when their Mother, the gray Dawn,
Tells them that dreams and that the moon is gone.
II.
Then I arise, and climbing Heaven's blue dome,
I walk over the mountains and the waves,
Leaving my robe upon the ocean foam;
My footsteps pave the clouds with fire; the caves
Are filled with my bright presence, and the air
Leaves the green Earth to my embraces bare.
III.
The sunbeams are my shafts, with which I kill
Deceit, that loves the night and fears the day;
All men who do or even imagine ill
Fly me, and from the glory of my ray
Good minds and open actions take new might,
Until diminished by the reign of Night.
IV.
I feed the clouds, the rainbows, and the flowers,
With their ethereal colors; the Moon's globe,
And the pure stars in their eternal bowers,
Are cinctured with my power as with a robe;
Whatever lamps on Earth or Heaven may shine,
Are portions of one power, which is mine.
V.
I stand at noon upon the peak of Heaven;
Then with unwilling steps I wander down
Into the clouds of the Atlantic even;
For grief that I depart they weep and frown:
What look is more delightful than the smile
With which I soothe them from the western isle?
VI.
I am the eye with which the Universe
Beholds itself, and knows it is divine;
All harmony of instrument or verse,
All prophecy, all medicine, is mine,
All light of art or nature; - to my song
Victory and praise in its own right belong.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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The Silent Sea
Shades of green and aqua blue
The sea painted a thousand hues
Beneath thundering ocean wave
Out of the reach of mariners graves
A living testimony swims in majesty
once the rulers of the sea
A whale song rings from beneath the ocean
A song of praise and true devotion
To the God of creation and of the sea
A sea being robbed by cruel thieves
The whale song drifts silently away
The hands of man have silenced their praise
As God looks down in his majesty
As tears trickle down on the silent sea.
poem by Debi Fields
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Forsaking My Love
I hate you
I wish to tear you away from me
This tumor that clings to my chest
The thing that makes me ache
That haunts my dreams
And tears at my desires
You have brought me only pain
My untamed heart
That beast that gnaws at my soul
That pitifully whines
Bringing my mind into unwanted pain
Yet how can I blame you
How can I chastise you when I listen intently to your pleas
Why should I punish you for what my eyes feed upon
How can I blame my eyes for falling upon her
She who brings light to the eternal darkness of my soul
She whose eyes bring me to subjection
Whose smile leaves me in awe
How can I blame you when my ears are met with her laughter
How they submerge into her song
How they quiver at her voice
Why should I punish you for inclining my soul
Tempting it with the one sense that has been forsaken by her
How could I look over the thought of the brushing of lips
The touching of hands
The binding of the soul, mind, and body
O you wretched heart
What am I to do with this constant companion
How could I tear you away
When she is the cause of my agony
Or rather
It is the lack of her which brings me sorrow
It is the need for her that leaves my heart in pain
Yet she is not mine
She was never mine
She will never be mine
O my poor heart
How can I make you see reason
When all you do is show me the truth
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poem by Michael Silver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To thy heart so sweetly its wrong..
To a memory of happiness thine heart doth yield
Rousing thine sweet face to be kissed by love first
Dreamy thy power behind thy strength's shield
Drinking the dreams of love, thine soul doth thirst
For the love that did first make thee
Is the love thy face doth subtly gleam
Into the springs of thy soul's glee
Wert thy past love reflect and thy heart beam
But thy love is in thy dreams, now thy love not
Rejected and abandoned to thy only love thou hope
As loneliness and despair forge a their Gordian knot
Around thy heart, thy still dream for love to cope
For the love which is lost in thy memory song
Unconsciously playing to thy heart so sweetly its wrong..
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thanksgiving
When first in ancient time, from Jubal's tongue
The tuneful anthem filled the morning air,
To sacred hymnings and elysian song
His music-breathing sehll the minstrel woke.
Devotion breathed aloud from every chord:
The voice of praise was heard in every tone,
And prayer and thanks to Him, the Eternal One,
To Him, that with bright inspiration touched
The high and gifted lyre of heavenly song,
And warmed the soul with new vitality.
A stirring energy through Nature breathed:
The voice of adoration from her broke,
Swelling aloud in every breeze, and heard
Long in the sullen waterfall, what time
Soft Spring or hoary Autumn threw on earth
Its bloom or blighting; when the summer smiled;
Or winter o'er the year's sepulcher mourned.
The Deity was there; a nameless spirit
Moved in the breasts of men to do him homage;
And when the morning smiled, or evening pale
Hung weeping o'er the melancholy urn,
They came beneath the broad, o'erarching trees,
And in their tremulous shadow worshipped oft,
Where pale the vine clung round their simple altars,
And gray moss mantling hung. Above was heard
The melody of winds, breathed out as the green trees
Bowed to their quivering touch in living beauty;
And birds sang forth their cheerful hymns. Below,
The bright and widely wandering rivulet
Struggled and gushed amongst the tangled roots
That choked its reedy fountain, and dark rocks
Worn smooth by the constant current. Even there
The listless wave, that stole with mellow voice
Where reeds grew rank on the rushy-fringed brink,
And the green sedge bent to the wandering wind,
Sang with a cheerful song of sweet tranquillity.
Men felt the heavenly influence; and it stole
Like balm into their hearts, till all was peace:
And even the air they breathed, the light they saw,
Became religion; for the ethereal spirit
That to soft music wakes the chords of feeling,
And mellows everything to beauty, moved
With cheering energy within their breasts
And made all holy there, for all was love.
The morning stars, that sweetly sang together;
The moon, that hung at night in the mid-sky:
Dayspring and eventide; and all the fair
And beautiful forms of nature, had a voice
Of eloquent worship. Ocean, with its tides
Selling and deep, where low the infant storm
Hung on his dun, dark cloud, and heavily beat
The pulses of the sea, sent forth a voice
Of awful adoration to the spirit
That, wrapt in darkness, moved upon its face.
And when the bow of evening arched the east,
Or, in the moonlight pale, the curling wave
Kissed with a sweet embrace the sea-worn beach,
And soft the song of winds came o'er the waters,
The mingled melody of wind and wave
Touched like a heavenly anthem on the ear;
For it arose a tuneful hymn of worship.
And have our hearts grown cold? Are there on earth
No pure reflections caught from heavnly light?
Have our mute lips no hymn, our souls no song?
Let him thatin the summer-day of youth
Keeps pure the holy fount of youthful feeling,
And him that in the nightfall of his years
Lies down in his last sleep, and shuts in peace
His dim, pale eyes on life's short wayfaring,
Praise Him that rules the destiny of man.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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