En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Doer Of Good

It was night-time and He was alone.

And He saw afar-off the walls of a round city and went towards the
city.

And when He came near He heard within the city the tread of the
feet of joy, and the laughter of the mouth of gladness and the loud
noise of many lutes. And He knocked at the gate and certain of the
gate-keepers opened to Him.

And He beheld a house that was of marble and had fair pillars of
marble before it. The pillars were hung with garlands, and within
and without there were torches of cedar. And He entered the house.

And when He had passed through the hall of chalcedony and the hall
of jasper, and reached the long hall of feasting, He saw lying on a
couch of sea-purple one whose hair was crowned with red roses and
whose lips were red with wine.

And He went behind him and touched him on the shoulder and said to
him, 'Why do you live like this?'

And the young man turned round and recognised Him, and made answer
and said, 'But I was a leper once, and you healed me. How else
should I live?'

And He passed out of the house and went again into the street.

And after a little while He saw one whose face and raiment were
painted and whose feet were shod with pearls. And behind her came,
slowly as a hunter, a young man who wore a cloak of two colours.
Now the face of the woman was as the fair face of an idol, and the
eyes of the young man were bright with lust.

And He followed swiftly and touched the hand of the young man and
said to him, 'Why do you look at this woman and in such wise?'

And the young man turned round and recognised Him and said, 'But I
was blind once, and you gave me sight. At what else should I
look?'

And He ran forward and touched the painted raiment of the woman and
said to her, 'Is there no other way in which to walk save the way
of sin?'

And the woman turned round and recognised Him, and laughed and
said, 'But you forgave me my sins, and the way is a pleasant way.'

And He passed out of the city.

And when He had passed out of the city He saw seated by the
roadside a young man who was weeping.

And He went towards him and touched the long locks of his hair and
said to him, 'Why are you weeping?'

And the young man looked up and recognised Him and made answer,
'But I was dead once, and you raised me from the dead. What else
should I do but weep?'

poem by Oscar Wilde
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The Threshold Stone

WHEN I went to live in the little house,
That stands on the hilltop alone,
What touched me most of all
Was neither roof nor wall,
But the smooth, worn face of its old threshold stone.
For when I entered that little house,
With its four rooms cool in the heat,
And its windows clean and bright,
There it lay, new-washed and white,
With its tale of the coming and the going of feet.
Then I lost count of time in that little house,
And the world and its things all about,
And I hearkened there, alone,
To the footfalls on that stone,
Of the young coming in and the old going out.
And the folk that had dwelt in that little house,
They were mute, spectre-mute, at my side —
The young man, strong and bold,
And the grey man, wise and old,
And the little, pinched woman and the new-made bride.
Oh, often in haste to that little house
Came love in the night-time alone,
And dallied there a while,
With a little, wistful smile,
And with feather-weight feet on the old threshold stone.
And men hurried home to that little house
When the round of the daytime was o'er
With its worry, heat and noise,
And kissed their girls and boys,
And the patient little mothers that waited at the door.
Though I dwell now no more in that little house
That stands on the hilltop alone,
Yet this I got from it —
This human story writ
On the smooth, worn face of its old threshold stone.
Though they take stone from stone in that little house,
Making litter of all it has been.
Yet they shall not destroy
All the grief, all the joy,
All the youth, all the love that its threshold has seen.

poem by Roderic Quinn
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The Teacher Of Wisdom

From his childhood he had been as one filled with the perfect
knowledge of God, and even while he was yet but a lad many of the
saints, as well as certain holy women who dwelt in the free city of
his birth, had been stirred to much wonder by the grave wisdom of
his answers.

And when his parents had given him the robe and the ring of manhood
he kissed them, and left them and went out into the world, that he
might speak to the world about God. For there were at that time
many in the world who either knew not God at all, or had but an
incomplete knowledge of Him, or worshipped the false gods who dwell
in groves and have no care of their worshippers.

And he set his face to the sun and journeyed, walking without
sandals, as he had seen the saints walk, and carrying at his girdle
a leathern wallet and a little water-bottle of burnt clay.

And as he walked along the highway he was full of the joy that
comes from the perfect knowledge of God, and he sang praises unto
God without ceasing; and after a time he reached a strange land in
which there were many cities.

And he passed through eleven cities. And some of these cities were
in valleys, and others were by the banks of great rivers, and
others were set on hills. And in each city he found a disciple who
loved him and followed him, and a great multitude also of people
followed him from each city, and the knowledge of God spread in the
whole land, and many of the rulers were converted, and the priests
of the temples in which there were idols found that half of their
gain was gone, and when they beat upon their drums at noon none, or
but a few, came with peacocks and with offerings of flesh as had
been the custom of the land before his coming.

Yet the more the people followed him, and the greater the number of
his disciples, the greater became his sorrow. And he knew not why
his sorrow was so great. For he spake ever about God, and out of
the fulness of that perfect knowledge of God which God had Himself
given to him.

And one evening he passed out of the eleventh city, which was a
city of Armenia, and his disciples and a great crowd of people
followed after him; and he went up on to a mountain and sat down on
a rock that was on the mountain, and his disciples stood round him,
and the multitude knelt in the valley.

And he bowed his head on his hands and wept, and said to his Soul,
'Why is it that I am full of sorrow and fear, and that each of my
disciples is an enemy that walks in the noonday?' And his Soul
answered him and said, 'God filled thee with the perfect knowledge
of Himself, and thou hast given this knowledge away to others. The
pearl of great price thou hast divided, and the vesture without
seam thou hast parted asunder. He who giveth away wisdom robbeth
himself. He is as one who giveth his treasure to a robber. Is not
God wiser than thou art? Who art thou to give away the secret that
God hath told thee? I was rich once, and thou hast made me poor.
Once I saw God, and now thou hast hidden Him from me.'

And he wept again, for he knew that his Soul spake truth to him,
and that he had given to others the perfect knowledge of God, and
that he was as one clinging to the skirts of God, and that his
faith was leaving him by reason of the number of those who believed
in him.

And he said to himself, 'I will talk no more about God. He who
giveth away wisdom robbeth himself.'

And after the space of some hours his disciples came near him and
bowed themselves to the ground and said, 'Master, talk to us about
God, for thou hast the perfect knowledge of God, and no man save
thee hath this knowledge.'

And he answered them and said, 'I will talk to you about all other
things that are in heaven and on earth, but about God I will not
talk to you. Neither now, nor at any time, will I talk to you
about God.'

And they were wroth with him and said to him, 'Thou hast led us
into the desert that we might hearken to thee. Wilt thou send us
away hungry, and the great multitude that thou hast made to follow
thee?'

And he answered them and said, 'I will not talk to you about God.'

And the multitude murmured against him and said to him, 'Thou hast
led us into the desert, and hast given us no food to eat. Talk to
us about God and it will suffice us.'

But he answered them not a word. For he knew that if he spake to
them about God he would give away his treasure.

And his disciples went away sadly, and the multitude of people
returned to their own homes. And many died on the way.

And when he was alone he rose up and set his face to the moon, and
journeyed for seven moons, speaking to no man nor making any
answer. And when the seventh moon had waned he reached that desert
which is the desert of the Great River. And having found a cavern
in which a Centaur had once dwelt, he took it for his place of
dwelling, and made himself a mat of reeds on which to lie, and
became a hermit. And every hour the Hermit praised God that He had
suffered him to keep some knowledge of Him and of His wonderful
greatness.

Now, one evening, as the Hermit was seated before the cavern in
which he had made his place of dwelling, he beheld a young man of
evil and beautiful face who passed by in mean apparel and with
empty hands. Every evening with empty hands the young man passed
by, and every morning he returned with his hands full of purple and
pearls. For he was a Robber and robbed the caravans of the
merchants.

And the Hermit looked at him and pitied him. But he spake not a
word. For he knew that he who speaks a word loses his faith.

And one morning, as the young man returned with his hands full of
purple and pearls, he stopped and frowned and stamped his foot upon
the sand, and said to the Hermit: 'Why do you look at me ever in
this manner as I pass by? What is it that I see in your eyes? For
no man has looked at me before in this manner. And the thing is a
thorn and a trouble to me.'

And the Hermit answered him and said, 'What you see in my eyes is
pity. Pity is what looks out at you from my eyes.'

And the young man laughed with scorn, and cried to the Hermit in a
bitter voice, and said to him, 'I have purple and pearls in my
hands, and you have but a mat of reeds on which to lie. What pity
should you have for me? And for what reason have you this pity?'

'I have pity for you,' said the Hermit, 'because you have no
knowledge of God.'

'Is this knowledge of God a precious thing?' asked the young man,
and he came close to the mouth of the cavern.

'It is more precious than all the purple and the pearls of the
world,' answered the Hermit.

'And have you got it?' said the young Robber, and he came closer
still.

'Once, indeed,' answered the Hermit, 'I possessed the perfect
knowledge of God. But in my foolishness I parted with it, and
divided it amongst others. Yet even now is such knowledge as
remains to me more precious than purple or pearls.'

And when the young Robber heard this he threw away the purple and
the pearls that he was bearing in his hands, and drawing a sharp
sword of curved steel he said to the Hermit, 'Give me, forthwith
this knowledge of God that you possess, or I will surely slay you.
Wherefore should I not slay him who has a treasure greater than my
treasure?'

And the Hermit spread out his arms and said, 'Were it not better
for me to go unto the uttermost courts of God and praise Him, than
to live in the world and have no knowledge of Him? Slay me if that
be your desire. But I will not give away my knowledge of God.'

And the young Robber knelt down and besought him, but the Hermit
would not talk to him about God, nor give him his Treasure, and the
young Robber rose up and said to the Hermit, 'Be it as you will.
As for myself, I will go to the City of the Seven Sins, that is but
three days' journey from this place, and for my purple they will
give me pleasure, and for my pearls they will sell me joy.' And he
took up the purple and the pearls and went swiftly away.

And the Hermit cried out and followed him and besought him. For
the space of three days he followed the young Robber on the road
and entreated him to return, nor to enter into the City of the
Seven Sins.

And ever and anon the young Robber looked back at the Hermit and
called to him, and said, 'Will you give me this knowledge of God
which is more precious than purple and pearls? If you will give me
that, I will not enter the city.'

And ever did the Hermit answer, 'All things that I have I will give
thee, save that one thing only. For that thing it is not lawful
for me to give away.'

And in the twilight of the third day they came nigh to the great
scarlet gates of the City of the Seven Sins. And from the city
there came the sound of much laughter.

And the young Robber laughed in answer, and sought to knock at the
gate. And as he did so the Hermit ran forward and caught him by
the skirts of his raiment, and said to him: 'Stretch forth your
hands, and set your arms around my neck, and put your ear close to
my lips, and I will give you what remains to me of the knowledge of
God.' And the young Robber stopped.

And when the Hermit had given away his knowledge of God, he fell
upon the ground and wept, and a great darkness hid from him the
city and the young Robber, so that he saw them no more.

And as he lay there weeping he was ware of One who was standing
beside him; and He who was standing beside him had feet of brass
and hair like fine wool. And He raised the Hermit up, and said to
him: 'Before this time thou hadst the perfect knowledge of God.
Now thou shalt have the perfect love of God. Wherefore art thou
weeping?' And he kissed him.

poem by Oscar Wilde
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The Master

Now when the darkness came over the earth Joseph of Arimathea,
having lighted a torch of pinewood, passed down from the hill into
the valley. For he had business in his own home.

And kneeling on the flint stones of the Valley of Desolation he saw
a young man who was naked and weeping. His hair was the colour of
honey, and his body was as a white flower, but he had wounded his
body with thorns and on his hair had he set ashes as a crown.

And he who had great possessions said to the young man who was
naked and weeping, 'I do not wonder that your sorrow is so great,
for surely He was a just man.'

And the young man answered, 'It is not for Him that I am weeping,
but for myself. I too have changed water into wine, and I have
healed the leper and given sight to the blind. I have walked upon
the waters, and from the dwellers in the tombs I have cast out
devils. I have fed the hungry in the desert where there was no
food, and I have raised the dead from their narrow houses, and at
my bidding, and before a great multitude, of people, a barren fig-
tree withered away. All things that this man has done I have done
also. And yet they have not crucified me.'

poem by Oscar Wilde
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Jet City Woman

Every time I leave
You say you wont be there.
And youre always there.
Every time I cry your name at night,
You pull close and say its alright.
I look in your eyes, just like the rain.
Washing me, rain wash over me.
Touching your face, I feel the heat
Of your heartbeat echo in my head like a scream.
What you do to me!
Waited so long I cant wait another day without you.
Jet city woman.
Its a long way, home to my
Jet city woman.
I see her face everywhere, cant get her out of my mind.
Whenever Im alone Im thinking,
Theres a part missing from my life.
Wonder where Id be without your love
Holding me together now im
Watching the time tick, tick away.
Face grows longer every day.
Fortunes are lost on the women Ive seen
But without you I cant breathe!
Youre the air to me!
Waited so long, Im all alone thinking about you.
Jet city woman.
Got to find my way home to her.
Jet city woman.
I see her face everywhere I look!
Jet city woman.
Just a thousand miles and Ill be there
Jet city woman, to make the clouds go away.
Time for some blue sky!
Waited so long now the planes delayed
And hour, reminds me of all our days apart.
Hold on, just a little longer.
Jet city woman.
Wonder where Id be, youre the air to me.
Jet city woman.
Eyes like the rain, rain down on me.
Jet city woman.
No more nights alone Im almost home now.
Jet city woman.
Close my eyes, Im there in my jet city.

song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Young Man Who Refused To Take Off His Shoes

A young man
wandering in the dark
with his heart bleeding
found himself
infront of the house
that was fully lighted.

A woman
who seemed to be
an upright person
opened the door
and pityingly lead the young man
to enter the house
but then stopped him
when she saw the young man entering
with his shoes on his feet.

The woman told the young man
to take off his shoes
but the young man refused
to do so.

'I'm sorry,
I cannot let you in
if you won't take off your shoes
it is my policy
that everyone must take off the shoes
when entering the house.'

But the young man
still refused
so the woman pushed
the young man away
from the door and told him,
'I cannot help you
if you won't follow my policy! '
and the woman shut the door.

The young man
who refused to take off his shoes
back in the dark
wandering
with his heart bleeding
...alone.

poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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The Story Behind The Fire This Morning

before the house was razed by fire
the old man visited the house and cried
telling me about a young man who promised
that if he ever loves another woman
the house shall be burned
to strip it of its meaning

at 6: 30 today early morning the firemen
called it a day. The house is gone
The old man gone. The young man gone.

i like to write the story behind all these
misfortune
but i am afraid that some parts of it
may not be true
or that if true, it may not be fair at all,
or that it be totally unjust
so that there is no use
writing it anymore

The old woman died a year ago
She floated in air
suffered vertigo
she gave up finally
the young man to the world
heard the promise of the old man
who could not do anything
when the house
got burned.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hangin Round

Harry was a rich young man
Who would become a priest
He dug up his dear father
Who was recently deceased
He did it with tarot cards
And a mystically attuned mind
And shortly there
And after he did find
Jeanie was a spoiled young brat
She thought she knew it all
She smoked mentholated cigarettes
And she had sex in the hall
But she was not my kind
Or even of my sigh
The kind of animal
That I would be about
Woh-woh-woh, you keep hangin round me
And Im not so glad you found me
Youre still doing things that I gave up years ago
Oh-woh-woh-woh, you keep hangin round me
And Im not so glad you found me
Youre still doing things that I gave up years ago
All right now
Ah-huh-huh
Kathy was a bit surreal
She painted all her toes
And on her face she wore dentures
Clamped tightly to her nose
And when she finally spoke
Her twang her glasses broke
And no one else could smoke
While she was in the room
Hark the herald angels sang
And reached out for a phone
And plucking it with a knife in hand
Dialed long distance home
But it was all too much
Sprinkling angel dust
To at and t
Who didnt wish you well
Oh, but you keep hangin round me
And Im not so glad you found me
Youre still doing things that I gave up years ago
Ho-ho-ho-ho, you keep hangin round me
And Im not so glad you found me
Youre still doing things that I gave up years ago
Hangin round
Hangin round, thats all youre doing baby
Hangin round
Hangin round, ooohhh
Hangin round
Hangin round
Hangin round
Hangin round
...

song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Masquerade

A wan new garment of young green
Touched, as you turned your soft brown hair
And in me surged the strangest prayer
Ever in lover's heart hath been.

That I who saw your youth's bright page,
A rainbow change from robe to robe,
Might see you on this earthly globe,
Crowned with the silver crown of age.

Your dear hair powdered in strange guise,
Your dear face touched with colours pale:
And gazing through the mask and veil
The mirth of your immortal eyes.

poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Unwelcome

|WE were young, we were merry, we were very very wise,
And the door stood open at our feast,
When there passed us a woman with the West in her eyes,
And a man with his back to the East.

O, still grew the hearts that were beating so fast,
The loudest voice was still.
The jest died away on our lips as thy passed,
And the rays of July struck chill.

The cups of red wine turned pale on the board,
The white bread black as soot.
The hound forgot the hand of her lord,
She fell down at his foot.

Low let me lie, where the dead dog lies,
Ere I sit me down again at a feast,
When there passes a woman with the West in her eyes,
And a man with his back to the East.

poem by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
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The Sultana's Remonstrance

IT suits thee well to weep,
As thou lookest on the fair land,
Whose sceptre thou hast held
With less than woman's hand.

On yon bright city gaze,
With its white and marble halls,
The glory of its lofty towers,
The strength of its proud walls.

And look to yonder palace,
With its garden of the rose,
With its groves and silver fountains,
Fit for a king's repose.

There is weeping in that city,
And a cry of woe and shame,
There's a whisper of dishonour,
And that whisper is thy name.

And the stranger's feast is spread,
But it is no feast of thine;
In thine own halls accursed lips
Drain the forbidden wine.

And aged men are in the streets,
Who mourn their length of days,
And young knights stand with folded arms,
And eyes they dare not raise.

There is not one whose blood was not
As the waves of ocean free,--
Their fathers died for thy fathers,
They would have died for thee.

Weep not, 'tis mine to weep,
That ever thou wert born,
Alas, that all a mother's love
Is lost in a queen's scorn!

Yet weep, thou less than woman, weep,
Those tears become thine eye,--
It suits thee well to weep the land
For which thou daredst not die.*

poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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I Was Young Once Too

Written by richard leigh and robert byrne
He raced that engine down the track round the tree on christmas day
I was so amazed my dad would play with trains
I saw a sparkle in his eye, then I heard him say, come on son lets play, i
Was young once, too
He washed that buick faithfully, lord he kept her clean
I thought that machine meant more to him than me
On the day I turned sixteen he threw me the keys
Said I was young once, too, now she belongs to you
He was such a young man then, Im older than that now
I hope I measure up to him, when the circle comes around
I saw him in the attic sittin cross legged on the floor
With some old photographs, he point and laughed
He said, thats me in that picture, I said, no son, thats your dad
I was young once, too, and looked a lot like you
I was young once, too, I was young once, too
Merry christmas son, I wish your grandpa were here
He was young once, too, and looked like me and you

song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Man

Written by james young
Lead vocals by james young
People say with age there comes experience
But as soon as you are born you start to die
Older men are chosen to speak wisely
But call the child to the sacrificial rite
Who can we get to win the fight?
Young man!
Who can we get to make love all night?
Young man!
Who do we send away to die?
Young man!
I heard a lonely woman cry for a
Young man!
The fire bombs in distant lands are burning
Jarring every synapse in your soul
Life and death are a meaningless profession
Tomorrow brings a horror yet untold
Who can we get to win the fight?
Young man!
Who can we get to make love all night?
Young man!
Who do we send away to die?
Young man!
I heard a lonely woman cry for a
Young man!
Young man!
Young man!
Come home my son
We'll give you a rest
Welcome my son
We'll give you the best
Time's stowaway
The young man
Short are the days
Of the young man
Young man!
Young man!

song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her Praise

SHE is foremost of those that I would hear praised.
I have gone about the house, gone up and down
As a man does who has published a new book,
Or a young girl dressed out in her new gown,
And though I have turned the talk by hook or crook
Until her praise should be the uppermost theme,
A woman spoke of some new tale she had read,
A man confusedly in a half dream
As though some other name ran in his head.
She is foremost of those that I would hear praised.
I will talk no more of books or the long war
But walk by the dry thorn until I have found
Some beggar sheltering from the wind, and there
Manage the talk until her name come round.
If there be rags enough he will know her name
And be well pleased remembering it, for in the old days,
Though she had young men's praise and old men's blame,
Among the poor both old and young gave her praise.

poem by William Butler Yeats
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Sketches For A Fine Day

actually i like the sound of
brooms sweeping the street today

a young girl
short for her age
and brown and
bow legged

does her assigned task in the street
gathering dead leaves

as i watch
it is a bright day

the street light is turned off

a young boy's hand is held by her mother
crossing the street
waiting for the school bus

a white dog pisses
on the side of the trunk of the
mahogany tree

a black car from the right side of the village
wheels its way towards the boulevard

a young woman with short blue jeans
jogs along the green valley

the sea is sky
blue and the sun slowly rises from the horizon

like a man's face peeping upon a table's edge
the long line of trees along the faded street

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Three Songs To The One Burden

THE Roaring Tinker if you like,
But Mannion is my name,
And I beat up the common sort
And think it is no shame.
The common breeds the common,
A lout begets a lout,
So when I take on half a score
I knock their heads about.
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.

All Mannions come from Manannan,
Though rich on every shore
He never lay behind four walls
He had such character,
Nor ever made an iron red
Nor soldered pot or pan;
His roaring and his ranting
Best please a wandering man.
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.

Could Crazy Jane put off old age
And ranting time renew,
Could that old god rise up again
We'd drink a can or two,
And out and lay our leadership
On country and on town,
Throw likely couples into bed
And knock the others down.
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.

II
My name is Henry Middleton,
I have a small demesne,
A small forgotten house that's set
On a storm-bitten green.
I scrub its floors and make my bed,
I cook and change my plate,
The post and garden-boy alone
Have keys to my old gate.
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.

Though I have locked my gate on them,
I pity all the young,
I know what devil's trade they learn
From those they live among,
Their drink, their pitch-and-toss by day,
Their robbery by night;
The wisdom of the people's gone,
How can the young go straight?
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.

When every Sunday afternoon
On the Green Lands I walk
And wear a coat in fashion.
Memories of the talk
Of henwives and of queer old men
Brace me and make me strong;
There's not a pilot on the perch
Knows I have lived so long.
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.

III
Come gather round me, players all:
Come praise Nineteen-Sixteen,
Those from the pit and gallery
Or from the painted scene
That fought in the Post Office
Or round the City Hall,
praise every man that came again,
Praise every man that fell.
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.

Who was the first man shot that day?
The player Connolly,
Close to the City Hall he died;
Catriage and voice had he;
He lacked those years that go with skill,
But later might have been
A famous, a brilliant figure
Before the painted scene.
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.

Some had no thought of victory
But had gone out to die
That Ireland's mind be greater,
Her heart mount up on high;
And yet who knows what's yet to come?
For patrick pearse had said
That in every generation
Must Ireland's blood be shed.
From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.

poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young William And Young April

Young William and young April
Met in the park one day.
Young William said to April,
'Why did you come this way? '

Young April said to William,
'I thought I might see you.'
Young William, then to April,
'It's funny, what you do.'

Young April gave to William
A sweet, young childhood kiss.
Young William said to April,
'Don't bother me like this.'

Young April stood in silence,
Not knowing what to do.
Then young William turned away.
Young April, torn in two.

Young William said, 'Don't follow me.'
Away from her he fled.
April then, sat down and cried,
And wished that she was dead.

William never came again.
At least, for many years.
Fearful that young April still,
Might be there shedding tears.

William walked the park again.
It seemed just like before.
Wondering if he might see her.
Young April, there once more.

Young William never noticed.
The roses hid it well.
The place they found Young April.
The place she used to dwell.

poem by Greenwolfe 1962
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If There Is Something

(ferry)
If there is something that I might find
Look around corners
Try to find peace of mind I say
Where would you go if you were me
Try to keep a straight course not easy
Somebody special looking at me
A certain reaction we find
What should it try to be I mean
If there are many
Meaning the same
Be specific just a game
I would do anything for you
I would climb mountains
I would swim all the oceans blue
I would walk a thousand miles
Reveal my secrets
More than enough for me to share
I would put roses round our door
Sit in the garden
Growing potatoes by the score
Shake your hair girl with your ponytail
Takes me right back (when you were young)
Throw your precious gifts into the air
Watch them fall down (when you were young)
Lift up your feet and put them on the ground
You used to walk upon (when you were young)
Lift up your feet and put them on the ground
The hills were higher (when we were young)
Lift up your feet and put them on the ground
The trees were taller (when you were young)
Lift up your feet and put them on the ground
The grass was greener (when you were young)
Lift up your feet and put them on the ground
You used to walk upon (when you were young)

song performed by by Roxy Music
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Farmer's Bride

Three summers since I chose a maid,
Too young maybe-but more's to do
At harvest-time that a bide and woo.
When us was wed she turned afraid
Of love and me and all things human;
Like the shut of winter's day
Her smile went out, and `twadn't a woman-
More like a little frightened fay.
One night, in the Fall, she runned away.

"Out 'mong the sheep, her be," they said,
Should properly have been abed;
But sureenough she wadn't there
Lying awake with her wide brown stare.
So over seven-acre field and up-along across the down
We chased her, flying like a hare
Before out lanterns. To Church-Town
All in a shiver and a scare
We caught her, fetched her home at last
And turned the key upon her, fast.

She does the work about the hosue
As well as most, but like a mouse:
Happy enough to cheat and play
With birds and rabbits and such as they,
So long as men-folk keep away
"Not near, not near!" her eyes beseech
When one of us comes within reach.
The woman say that beasts in stall
Look round like children at her call.
I've hardly heard her speak at all.
Shy as a leveret, swift as he,
Straight and slight as a young larch tree,
Sweet as the first wild violets, she,
To her wild self. But what to me?

The short days shorten and the oaks are brown,
The blue smoke rises to the low grey sky,
One leaf in the still air falls slowly down,
A magpie's spotted feathers lie
An the black earth spread white with rime,
The berries redden up to Christmas-time.
What's Christmas-time without there be
Some other in the house than we!

She sleeps up in the attic there
Alone, poor maid. `Tis but a stair
Betwixt us. Oh! my God! the down,
The soft young down of her, the brown,
The brown of her-her eyes, her hair, her hair!

poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young Man's Town

You wake up one morning and it's passed you by.
You don't know when and you don't know why.
You feel like an old memory hangin' round.
And man, you've gotta face it, it's a young man's town.
You knew this day was comin' all along.
So why bitch and moan and say they done you wrong?
Just teach 'em what you know an' pass it on down,
'Cause man, you gotta face it, it's a young man's town.
Chorus:
It's a young man's town,
Full of young man's dreams.
And all God's children
Gotta learn to spread their wings.
Sometimes you gotta stand back,
And watch 'em burn it to the ground,
Even though you built it,
It's a young man's town.
You always seem to be the last to know.
Man, that's just the way that the story goes.
There's nothin' you can do when the fields have turned brown.
Man, you gotta face it, it's a young man's town.
Chorus:
It's a young man's town,
Full of young man's dreams.
And all God's children
Gotta learn to spread their wings.
Sometimes you gotta stand back,
And watch 'em burn it to the ground,
Even though you built it,
It's a young man's town.
Sometimes you gotta stand back,
And watch 'em burn it to the ground.
Even though you built it,
It's a young man's town...

song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Man's Town

You wake up one morning and it's passed you by.
You don't know when and you don't know why.
You feel like an old memory hangin' round.
And man, you've gotta face it, it's a young man's town.
You knew this day was comin' all along.
So why bitch and moan and say they done you wrong?
Just teach 'em what you know an' pass it on down,
'Cause man, you gotta face it, it's a young man's town.
Chorus:
It's a young man's town,
Full of young man's dreams.
And all God's children
Gotta learn to spread their wings.
Sometimes you gotta stand back,
And watch 'em burn it to the ground,
Even though you built it,
It's a young man's town.
You always seem to be the last to know.
Man, that's just the way that the story goes.
There's nothin' you can do when the fields have turned brown.
Man, you gotta face it, it's a young man's town.
Chorus:
It's a young man's town,
Full of young man's dreams.
And all God's children
Gotta learn to spread their wings.
Sometimes you gotta stand back,
And watch 'em burn it to the ground,
Even though you built it,
It's a young man's town.
Sometimes you gotta stand back,
And watch 'em burn it to the ground.
Even though you built it,
It's a young man's town...

song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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