The Prison Bell
Hark to the bell of sorrow! - 'tis awak'ning up again
Each broken spirit from its brief forgetfulness of pain.
Its sad sound seems to me to be a deathwail from the past,
An elegy for buried joys too pure and bright to last.
It haunts me like an echo from the dark depths of despair,
And conjures up the fiend-like forms of misery and care;
The saddest of the sorrowful, its tones bright dreams dispel,
For waking woes are summoned by the harsh-toned prison bell.
It tells me that I am not now what once I used to be,
A dearly loved and loving boy whose heart was light with glee;
It tells me that life's coming years must be long years of pain,
And that my brow with innocence can ne'er be wreathed again:
That I must wander through this world all friendless and forlorn,
Unsolaced by affection's smile, the thing of shame and scorn.
Those fearful tones, those dirge-like tones, what fearful tales they tell!
It rings the death of hope and joy, that sadly sounding bell.
How oft when some bright vision of the days of olden time
Comes o'er me like an angel dream from heaven's own hallowed clime,
And beautiful and holy things - the bright stars and the flowers,
And childhood's prayer - were dear to me as in life's sinless hours.
How oft, too, when in such dreams I wander by the side
Of one fair form whom virtue might have won me for my bride,
They come, those tones so horrible, those drear tones through my cell,
And memory shuddereth to hear the harsh-toned prison bell.
That bell! - how many hear it sound who've ceased to struggle long,
Who, reckless of crime's after doom, have linked themselves to wrong;
And heard it is with shuddering and tearful vain regret
By those who for one first bad act for years must suffer yet.
'Tis also sadly heard by some strange-struggling beings who
Cling to the false and evil while they love the good and true;
And some - a few - all innocent, who've learned, alas! Too well
That man's best judgement sometimes errs, may weep to hear that bell.
I've heard it when bright memories have crowded to my brain,
When hopes and aspirations high have whispering come again;
And it hath sought to crush each thought that fain would save from ill.
As wildly it hath chanted forth, 'Despair; be evil still.'
But no, a prison oft hath proved a holy place of yore,
And if the heart yearns for the good, God will the good restore,
Then courage soul: let faith's bright beams grief's darksome shades dispel,
And days of joy may yet be thine far from the prison bell.
poem by Owen Suffolk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Lily-Bell and Thistledown Song II
Thistledown in prison sings:
Bright shines the summer sun,
Soft is the summer air;
Gayly the wood-birds sing,
Flowers are blooming fair.
But, deep in the dark, cold rock,
Sadly I dwell,
Longing for thee, dear friend,
Lily-Bell! Lily-Bell!
Lily-Bell replies:
Through sunlight and summer air
I have sought for thee long,
Guided by birds and flowers,
And now by thy song.
Thistledown! Thistledown!
O'er hill and dell
Hither to comfort thee
Comes Lily-Bell.
poem by Louisa May Alcott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Duet
Milestone:
All my troubles disappear,
When the dinner-bell I hear,
Over woodland, dale, and fell,
Swinging slow with solemn swell,---
The dinner-bell! the dinner-bell!
Hippy:
What can bid my heart-ache fly?
What can bid my heart-ache die?
What can all the ills dispel,
In my morbid frame that dwell?
The dinner-bell! the dinner-bell!
Both:
Hark!---along the tangled ground,
Loudly floats the pleasing sound!
Sportive Fauns to Dryads tell,
'Tis the cheerful dinner-bell!
The dinner-bell! the dinner-bell!
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dream of Freedom
'Twas night, and the moonbeams palely fell
On the gloomy walls of a cheerless cell,
Where a captive sought a brief repose
From the bitter pangs of his waking woes.
O'er the dark blue waves the mighty deep
His spirit roamed in the dream of sleep,
To each well-loved spot of his native shore,
Where joyous he roved in the days of yore.
But o'er each scene a shadow threw
A gloom that never used to be,
All seemed so real, yet so untrue
To things once dear to memory.
The hill-side seemed a prison wall
That, grimly frowning, pained the eye;
The old oak-tree, with branches tall,
Looked like a gibbet 'gainst the sky.
Each face familiar once seemed now
A gaoler-face with a stony stare
A mark was set on each fair brow,
And in each voice were tones of care.
Thus mingled in the dreamer's brain
The present with the olden time,
Life's pleasant things with those of pain
And guiltless days with days of crime.
On, on in dream by lofty hill,
Through forest and o'er stormy wave,
He wandered; but he only still
Beheld a world of fettered slaves.
He saw a king surnamed the Great,
Who ruled the nations by his nod;
To billions his one word was fate -
He was a kind of demi-god.
He sat upon a lofty throne
A monarch, with a monarch's mien,
Earth's fairest forms were all his own,
And untold wealth was his I ween.
In the battlfield his arm was might
And his kingly heart was firm and brave;
But he knew not the charm of freedom's light.
For he was ambition's willing slave.
Then he turned from the monarch's throne to gaze
On a lonely cot in a peaceful dell,
Which lit by the sun's departing rays,
Seemed a home of bliss where no woe could dwell.
At the cottage door, with locks of white,
An old man gazed on the western sky,
And watched the sun's declining light
As it slowely sank from his haggard eye.
Alas! His spirit even there,
Where all around was bright and fair,
Was firmly bound to each crime-stained hour
By vivid mem'ry's haunting power,
While conscience o'er the sea of time
A lurid shade of darkness cast,
And conjured up the deeds of crime
That chained him to a guilty past.
In the captive's dream of fancy wild,
He looked no more on the man of care;
His gaze was fixed on a beauteous child
Who knelt at its mother's feet in prayer.
Its little hands were clasped - its eyes
Uplifted were to paradise;
Its simple words of faith and love
Were registered in heaven above;
Recorded there with angels' tears
As they wept o'er the hopes the mother built,
For they looked through the vista of the coming years,
And saw it fettered to future guilt.
And next he saw a youthful pair,
A gallant youth and maiden fair,
Reclining in a vine wreathed bower
At evening's calm and gentle hour.
Their words were such as lovers speak
When none are near; and on her cheek
The blushes deepened while he knelt
And poured out all his passion felt,
And not in vain. Then surely they
Were happy as a summer-day?
Ah! No, for happiness is twin
To purity of life and soul;
And those who only love in sin
Must wander widely from the goal.
The flowers that scented the ev'ing air,
The stars that gleamed from their home above,
Shed pitying tears for the guilty pair,
For they were the slaves of unholy love.
Then he turned from the things of earth to gaze
On the regions of immortality,
Where seraphs chanted their songs of praise,
And every tongue was tuned in joy,
Where countless thousands, clothed in white,
To angel-harps sang 'We are free,
And all who enter these realms of light
From sin and sorrow shall be as we.
Here freedom's waters bright and fair,
Flow undimmed by a single care;
And all who taste of the crystal tide
Of the stream of life that for ever flows,
Can never again be to sin allied,
And is free forever from earthly woes.'
'Twas now the drear-toned prison bell
Loud-echoed through the captive's cell.
He rose - the vision of the night
Again was present to his sight.
He knelt -with fervency he prayed;
Through faith in Christ, his sins forgiven,
The narrow boundary of the grave
Should be the vestibule of Heaven,
Where, disenthralled from all below,
He'd dwell beyond the starry sky,
Free from the pains of earthly woe,
In never-ending liberty!
poem by Owen Suffolk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Creeds Of The Bells
How sweet the chime of the Sabbath bells!
Each one its creed in music tells
In tones that float upon the air
As soft as song, as sweet as prayer,
And I will put in simple rhyme
The language of the golden chime.
My happy heart with rapture swells
Responsive to the bells, sweet bells.
'Ye purifying waters swell!'
In mellow tones rang out a bell;
'Though faith alone in Christ can save,
Man must be plunged beneath the wave,
To show the world unfaltering faith
In what the Sacred Scripture saith;
Oh, well! ye rising water, swell!'
Pealed out the clear-toned Baptist bell.
'O, heed the ancient landmarks well!'
In solemn tones exclaimed a bell.
'No progress made by mortal man
Can change the just, eternal plan;
With God there can be nothing new;
Ignore the false, embrace the true,
While all is well! is well! is well!'
Pealed out the good old Dutch church bell.
'In deeds of love excel! excel!'
Chimed out from ivied towers a bell.
'This is the church not built on sands,
Emblem of one not built with hands;
Its forms and sacred rites revere -
Come worship here! come worship here!
Its rituals and faith excel!'
Chimed out the Episcopalian bell.
'No faith alone, but works as well,
Must test the soul!' said a soft bell.
'Come here and cast aside your load!
And work your way along the road
With faith in God and faith in man,
And hope in Christ, where hope began.
Do well! do well! do well! do well!'
Rang out the Unitarian bell.
'To all the truth we tell, we tell!'
Shouted in ecstacies, a bell.
'Come all ye weary wanders, see!
Our Lord has made salvation free!
Repent, believe, have faith, and then
Be saved! and praise the Lord! Amen!
Salvation’s free! we tell! we tell!'
Shouted the Methodistic bell.
'Farewell! farewell! base world, farewell!'
In touching tones exclaimed a bell.
'Life is a boon to mortals given,
To fit the soul for bliss in heaven.
Do not invoke the avenging rod.
Come here and learn the way to God.
Say to the world, ‘farewell! farewell!’'
Pealed forth the Presbyterian bell.
'In after life there is no hell!'
In raptures rang a cheerful bell.
'Look up to heaven this holy day,
When angels wait to lead the way.
There are no fires, no fiends to blight
The future life; be just and right.
No hell! No hell! No hell! No hell!'
Rang out the Universalist bell.
'The Pilgrim Fathers heeded well
My cheerful voice!' pealed forth a bell.
'No fetters here to clog the soul,
No arbitrary creed control
The free heart and progressive mind
That leave the dusty paths behind.
Speed well! speed well! speed well! speed well!'
Pealed forth the Independent bell.
'No pope, no pope, to doom to hell
The Protestant!' rang out a bell.
'Great Luther left his fiery zeal
Within the hearts that truly feel
What loyalty to God swill be
The faulty that makes men free,
No images where incense fell!'
Rang out old Martin Luther’s bell.
'Find rest! find rest! find rest! find rest!
Upon our Holy Mother’s breast,
From wearying strifes that never cease,
The mother church gives rest and pace.
Come, penitents, your sins confess
Where white-robed priests the faithful bless,
Where sacred Masses peal and swell!'
Deep tolled d the Roman Catholic bell.
Neatly attired, in manner plain,
A pilgrim see - no spot, no satin -
Slowly, with soft and measured tread,
In Quaker garb - no white, no red -
To passing friend I hear him say,
'Here worship thou, this is the way;
No churchly form, it is not well;
No bell - no bell - no bell - no bell.'
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jingle Bell Rock
Jingle bell
Jingle bell
Jingle Bell Rock
Jingle bell swing
And jingle bell's ring
Snowing and blowing
Up bushels of fun
Now the jingle hop has begun
Jingle bell
Jingle bell
Jingle Bell Rock
Jingle bells chime
In jingle bell time
Dancing and prancing
In jingle bell square
In the frosty air
What a bright time
It's the right time
To rock the night away
Jingle bell time
It's a swell time
To go riding in a one horse sleigh
Giddy-up jingle horse
Pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and mingle
In a jingling beat
That's the Jingle Bell Rock
Jingle Bell Rock
Jingle Bell Rock
Oh yeah
Jingle Bell Rock
Jingle Bell Rock
Oh yeah
song performed by by Hilary Duff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another Angel Gets Its Wings
(robert irving)
Theres an angel in us all
A little voice inside that answers every call
Theres a joyous sound resounding in your heart
A ray of hope that shines as bright as any star
Remember...
For each and every bell that rings
Another angel gets his wings
So show you care and share your light
And help an angel fly tonight
An act of kindness, a tender smile
These little blessings seem to make it all worth while
So try and do whats ringing true inside your heart
Remember...
For each and every bell that rings
Another angel gets his wings
So show you care and share your light
And help an angel fly tonight
(another angel) everybody sing
(another angel) its a wonderful life
For each and every bell that rings
Another angel gets his wings
Say you believe in what you are
Share the love thats ringing true inside your heart
Remember...
For each and every bell that rings
Another angel gets his wings
So show you care and share your light
And help an angel fly tonight
(another angel) everybody sing
(another angel) its a wonderful life
For each and every bell that rings
Another angel gets his wings
(another angel) everybody sing
(another angel) its a wonderful life
(another angel)
(another angel) its a wonderful life
(another angel)
(another angel)
song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Child on the Cliffs
Mother, the root of this little yellow flower
Among the stones has the taste of quinine.
Things are strange to-day on the cliff. The sun shines so bright,
And the grasshopper works at his sewing machine
So hard. Here's one on my hand, mother, look;
I lie so still. There's one on your book.
But I have something to tell more strange. So leave
Your book to the grasshopper, mother dear, -
Like a green knight in a dazzling market-place -
And listen now. Can you hear what I hear
Far out? Now and then the foam there curls
And stretches a white arm out like a girl's.
Fishes and gulls ring no bells. There cannot be
A chapel or church between here and Devon,
With fishes or gulls ringing its bell, - hark! -
Somewhere under the sea or up in heaven.
'It's the bell, my son, out in the bay
On the buoy. It does sound sweet to-day.'
Sweeter I never heard, mother, no, not in all Wales.
I should like to be lying under that foam,
Dead, but able to hear the sound of the bell,
And certain that you would often come
And rest, listening happily.
I should be happy if that could be.
poem by Edward Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Benediction
Read this poem only aloud
read it as slowly and with such solemn dignity
as if it were the whole great human race
declaring itself to be truly great
read it as if it were
as indeed it is
not words but a great sounding bell
and you are that great bell
so large a bell so low its boom
that it is more vibration than a sound
struck in a temple courtyard
by a robed monk so full of love
that he merges into love itself
every time he sounds the bell
and as its sound now travels up
into the clear mountain air
the goatherds and the goats hear in its sound
the meaning of their life
and in the fields the workers raise themselves
and know what blessing is
and in the valley the silence after each stroke
becomes more real
as the echo fades
and the air knows itself
this poem is the sound of the human heart
listening to itself beyond all words
hearing praise and gratitude and love
knowing themselves in stillness for what they are
this poem is what is beyond all words
smiling sorrowing as it seeks for words
as it vibrates out into the silence
the wonder of the unspoken
the magic of all that’s yet unmanifest
the thoughts yet to be thought
hear in this bell the sound that tells to all
that there is enough love
in one single human heart
to nourish the whole world
hear this bell sounding aloud
sound out eternal in your soul
* * *
[work in progress]
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bride
SHE is standing by her loved one's side,
A young and a fair and a gentle bride,
But mournfulness hath crost her face
Like shadows in a sunny place,
And wistfully her eye doth strain
Across the blue and distant main.
My home! my home!-I would I were
Again in joyous gladness there!
My home! my home!-I would I heard
The singing voice, like some small bird,
Of him, our mother's youngest child,
With light soft step, and features mild.-
I would I saw that dear one now,
With the proud eye and noble brow,
Whose very errors were more loved
Than all our reason most approved.
And she, my fairy sister, she,
Who was the soul of childish glee;
Who loved me so-oh, let me hear
Once more those tones familiar, dear,
Which haunt my rest; and I will smile
Even as I used to do erewhile.
I know that some have fall'n asleep-
I know that some have learnt to weep-
But my heart never feels the same
As when those light steps round me came:
And sadness weighs my heavy eye
Beneath this cheerless stranger sky:
Tho' fewer now might round me come-
It is my home-my own old home!
She is back again in her sunny home,
And thick and fast the beatings come
Of that young heart, as round she sees
The same sweet flowers, the same old trees;
But they, the living flowers she loved,
Are they the same? are they unmoved?-
No-time which withers leaf and stem
Hath thrown his withering change o'er them.
Where there was mirth, is silence now-
Where there was joy, a darkened brow-
The bounding step hath given place
To the slow stealing mournful pace;
The proud bright eye is now less proud,
By time, and thought, and sickness bowed.
And the light singing voice no more
Its joyful carols echoes o'er,
But whispers; fearful some gay tone
May wake the thought of pleasures gone.
It is her home-but all in vain
Some lingering things unchanged remain:
The present wakes no smile-the past
Hath tears to bid its memory last.
She knew that some were gone-but oh!
She knew not-youth can never know
How furrowed o'er with silent thought
Are brows which grief and time have taught.
The murmuring of some shadowy word,
Which was a name-which now, unheard,
May wander thro' the clear cold sky,
Or wake the echo for reply:
The lingering pause in some bright spot
To dream of those who now are not:
The gaze that vainly seeks to trace
Lost feelings beaming on a face
Where time and sorrow, guilt and care,
Have past and left their withering there:-
These are her joys; and she doth roam
Around her dear but desert home;
Peopling the vacant seats, till tears arise,
And blot the dim sweet vision from her eyes.
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O death, rock me on sleep
O death! rock me on sleep,
Bring me on quiet rest;
Yet pass my guiltless ghost
Out of my careful breast:
Toll on the passing bell,
Ring out the doleful knell,
Let the sound of my death tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy,
For now I die.
My pains who can express?
Alas! they are so strong,
My dolor will not suffer strength
My life for to prolong:
Toll on the passing bell, etc.
Alone, in prison strong,
I wail my destiny,
Wo worth this cruel hap that I
Should taste this misery:
Toll on the passing bell, etc.
Farewell my pleasures past,
Welcome my present pain;
I feel my torments so increase
That life cannot remain.
Cease now the passing bell,
Rung is my doleful knell,
For the sound my death doth tell,
Death doth draw nigh,
Sound my end dolefully,
For now I die.
poem by Anne Boleyn (1536)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Bell Of Freedom
Philadelphia's the home of freedom.
Liberty stands at the sound of a bell.
Freedom for the world.That's my religion.
Freedom in the states.That's the way it should be.
Ring-a-ling-a-ling.Here the bell of freedom.
Ring-a-ling-a-ling.Let's also ring this bell for the world.
There's a statue of a lady.In New York City.
Her torch burning bright, for the world to see.
Her meaning's just the same.She looks so pretty.
But nothing like the bell that rings so free.
Philadelphia's the home of freedom.
Liberty stands at the sound of a bell.
Freedom for the world.That's my religion.
Freedom in the states.That's the way it should be.
Ring-a-ling-a-ling.Hear the bell of freedom.
Ring-a-ling-a-ling.Let's also ring this bell for the world.
There's a flag that flies.It holds the same meaning.
Those stars and stripes, just wave in the air.
This flag's got a name.It's called Old Glory.
This flag flies along.While we're ringing the bell.
Ring-a-ling-a-ling.Hear the bell of freedom.
Ring-a-ling-a-ling.Let's also ring this bell for the world.
Philadelphia's the home of freedom.
Liberty stands at the sound of a bell.
Freedom for the world.That's my religion.
Freedom in the states.That's the way it should be.
Ring-a-ling-a-ling.Hear the bell of freedom.
Ring-a-ling-a-ling.Let's also ring this bell for the world...
Patriotic-Song-Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2002,2009..
ALL rights reserved..
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jingle Bell Rock
Jingle bell, jingle bell
Jingle bell rock
Jingle bell swing
And jingle bells ring
Snowin and blowin
Up bushels of fun
Now the jingle hop has begun
Jingle bell, jingle bell
Jingle bell rock
Jingle bells chime in
Jingle bell time
Dancin and prancin
In jingle bell square
In the frosty air
What a bright time
Its the right time
To rock the night away
Jingle bell, time
Is a swell time
To go glidin in a
One horse sleigh
Giddy-up, jingle horse
Pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and mingle
In a jinglin beat
Thats the jingle bell rock
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jingle Bell Rock
Jingle bell, jingle bell
Jingle bell rock
Jingle bell swing
And jingle bells ring
Snowin' and blowin'
Up bushels of fun
Now the jingle hop has begun
Jingle bell, jingle bell
Jingle bell rock
Jingle bells chime in
Jingle bell time
Dancin' and prancin'
In jingle bell square
In the frosty air
What a bright time
It's the right time
To rock the night away
Jingle bell, time
Is a swell time
To go glidin' in a
one horse sleigh
Giddy-up, jingle horse
Pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and mingle
In a jinglin' beat
That's the jingle bell rock
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Withered Snowdrops
THEY came in the early spring-days,
With the first refreshing showers
And I watched the growing beauty
Of the little drooping flowers.
They had no bright hues to charm me,
No gay painting to allure;
But they made me think of angels,
They were all so white and pure.
In the early morns I saw them,
Dew-drops clinging to each bell.
And the first glad sunbeam hasting
Just to kiss them ere they fell.
Daily grew their spotless beauty;
But I feared when chill winds blew
They were all too frail and tender,—
And alas! my fears were true.
One glad morn I went to see them
While the bright drops gemmed their snow,
And one angel flower was withered,
Its fair petals drooping low.
Its white sister's tears fell on it,
And the sunbeam sadly shone:
For its innocence was withered,
And its purity was gone.
Still I left it there: I could not
Tear it rudely from its place;
It might rise again, and summer
Might restore its vanished grace.
But my hopes grew weaker, weaker,
And my heart with grief was pained
When I knew it must be severed
From the innocence it stained.
I must take it from the pure ones:
Henceforth they must live apart.
But I could not cut my flow'ret—
My lost angel—from my heart.
Oft I think of that dead snowdrop,
Think with sorrow, when I meet,
Day by day. the poor lost flowers,—
Sullied snowdrops of the street.
They were pure once, loved and loving.
And there still lives good within.
Ah! speak gently to them: harsh words
Will not lead them from their sin.
They are not like withered flowers
That can never bloom again:
They can rise, bright angel snowdrops,
Purified from every stain.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Girl’s Day Dream And Its Fulfilment
“Child of my love, why wearest thou
That pensive look and thoughtful brow?
Can’st gaze abroad on this world so fair
And yet thy glance be fraught with care?
Roses still bloom in glowing dyes,
Sunshine still fills our summer skies,
Earth is still lovely, nature glad—
Why dost thou look so lone and sad?”
“Ah! mother it once sufficed thy child
To cherish a bird or flow’ret wild;
To see the moonbeams the waters kiss,
Was enough to fill her heart with bliss;
Or o’er the bright woodland stream to bow,
But these things may not suffice her now.”
“Perhaps ’tis music thou seekest, child?
Then list the notes of the song birds wild,
The gentle voice of the mountain breeze,
Whispering among the dark pine trees,
The surge sublime of the sounding main,
Or thy own loved lute’s soft silvery strain.”
“Mother, there’s music sweeter I know
Than bird’s soft note or than ocean’s flow,
Vague to me yet as sounds of a dream,
Yet dearer, brighter than sunshine’s gleam;
Such is the music I fain would hear,
All other sounds but tire mine ear!”
“Ah! thou seekest then a loving heart,
That in all thy griefs will bear a part,
That shelter will give in doubt and fear,
Come to me, loved one, thou’lt find it here!”
“Sweet mother, I almost fear to speak,
And remorseful blushes dye my cheek,
For though thou’st watched me from childhood’s hour,
As thou would’st have done a precious flower,
Though I love thee still as I did of yore,
Yet this weak heart seeketh something more:
A bliss as yet to my life unknown,
A heart whose throbs will be all mine own,
The tender tones of a cherished voice,
Of him who shall be my heart’s first choice;
And who at my feet alone shall bow,
This, this is the dream that haunts me now.”
“Alas, poor child, has it come to this?
Then bid farewell to thy childhood’s bliss,
To thy girlhood’s bright unfettered hours,
Thy sunny revels ’mid birds and flowers;
Of the golden zone yield up each strand
To cling to a hope, unstable as sand,
And forget the joys thy youth hath wove
In the stormy doubts of human love,
The feverish hopes and wearing pain
That form the links of Love’s bright chain!”
Alas! the mother spoke in vain!
The girl’s dream was soon fulfilled,
Her hopes by no dark cloud were chilled;
A lover ardent, noble too,
With flashing eyes of jetty hue,
With voice like music, sweet and soft,
Such as her dreams had pictured oft,
Now at her feet, a suppliant bowed,
And love eternal, changeless vowed.
Listening, then, with glowing cheek,
And rapture which no words might speak,
She thought, with bright and joyous smile,
They erred who thus could love revile,
Or say it had many a dark alloy,—
Had it not proved a dream of joy?
But, alas for her! she learned too soon
That love is fleeting as rose of June,
That her eyes might shine with olden light,
And yet be found no longer bright;
That she might devoted, faithful prove,
Yet her lover grow weary of her love.
Many an hour of silent tears,
Of heart-sick doubts, of humbling fears,
Of angry regrets, were hers, before
Her heart would say, “He loves no more.”
Weary of life and its thorny ways,
She sought the friend of her early days:
“Mother, I bring thee a breaking heart,
In sorrows deep it hath borne a part;
Speak to me tenderly as of yore,
Let thy kiss rest on my brow once more;
To the joys of my girlhood back I flee,
To live alone for them and for thee!”
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lily-Bell
'Bright shines the summer sun,
Soft is the summer air;
Gayly the wood-birds sing,
Flowers are blooming fair.
'But, deep in the dark, cold rock,
Sadly I dwell,
Longing for thee, dear friend,
Lily-Bell! Lily-Bell!'
'Through sunlight and summer air
I have sought for thee long,
Guided by birds and flowers,
And now by thy song.
'Thistledown! Thistledown!
O'er hill and dell
Hither to comfort thee
Comes Lily-Bell.'
poem by Louisa May Alcott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dinner Bell
Ive been leaving on my things
So in the morning when the morning bird sings
Theres still dinner on my dinner jacket
til the dinner bell rings
Experimental dog*
Salivating dog
Good dog
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the dinner bell)
Dinner bell dinner bell ring
Ive been leaving on my things
So in the morning when the morning bird sings
Theres still dinner on my dinner jacket
til the dinner bell rings
I dont want a pizza, I dont want a piece of (experimental dog)
Peanut brittle, I dont want a pear.
I dont want a bagel I dont want a bean I wouldnt like (salivating dog)
A bag of beef or a beer or a
Cup of chowder, corn, cake, or creamed cauliflower cause Im (good dog)
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the dinner bell)
Dinner bell dinner bell ring
Shoulder, bicep, elbow, arm
Forearm, thumb, wrist, knuckle, palm
Middle, pinky, index, ring
Dinner bell dinner bell ding
I dont know whether Id rather be having a bottle of vinegar (experimental dog)
I dont know whether Id rather be having an egg.
I dont know whether Id rather be having an order of bacon (salivating dog)
Or whether Id rather be having a basket of garlic bread.
I dont know whether Id rather be having some pie or (good dog)
Saving my appetite cause im
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the dinner bell)
Dinner bell dinner bell ring
Ive been leaving on my things (Ive been leaving on)
So in the morning when the morning bird sings (the morning)
Theres still dinner on my dinner jacket (on my)
til the dinner bell does the bell thing
Dinner bell dinner bell do the bell thing
Im waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the ding)
Dinner bell dinner bell ding ding ding
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the ding)
Dinner bell dinner bell ding ding ding
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the ding)
Dinner bell dinner bell ding
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballad
I KNOW my love is true,
And oh the day is fair.
The sky is dear and blue,
The flowers are rich of hue,
The air I breathe is rare,
I have no grief or care;
For my own love is true,
And oh the day is fair.
My love is false I find,
And oh the day is dark.
Blows sadly down the wind,
While sorrow holds my mind;
I do not hear the lark,
For quenched is life's dear spark,—
My love is false I find,
And oh the day is dark!
For love doth make the day
Or dark or doubly bright;
Her beams along the way
Dispel the gloom and gray.
She lives and all is bright,
She dies and life is night.
For love doth make the day,
Or dark or doubly bright.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Memory
Brightly the sun of summer shone,
Green fields and waving woods upon,
And soft winds wandered by;
Above, a sky of purest blue,
Around, bright flowers of loveliest hue,
Allured the gazer's eye.
But what were all these charms to me,
When one sweet breath of memory
Came gently wafting by?
I closed my eyes against the day,
And called my willing soul away,
From earth, and air, and sky;
That I might simply fancy there
One little flower - a primrose fair,
Just opening into sight;
As in the days of infancy,
An opening primrose seemed to me
A source of strange delight.
Sweet Memory! ever smile on me;
Nature's chief beauties spring from thee,
Oh, still thy tribute bring!
Still make the golden crocus shine
Among the flowers the most divine,
The glory of the spring.
Still in the wall-flower's fragrance dwell;
And hover round the slight blue bell,
My childhood's darling flower.
Smile on the little daisy still,
The buttercup's bright goblet fill
With all thy former power.
For ever hang thy dreamy spell
Round mountain star and heather bell,
And do not pass away
From sparkling frost, or wreathed snow,
And whisper when the wild winds blow,
Or rippling waters play.
Is childhood, then, so all divine?
Or Memory, is the glory thine,
That haloes thus the past?
Not all divine; its pangs of grief,
(Although, perchance, their stay be brief,)
Are bitter while they last.
Nor is the glory all thine own,
For on our earliest joys alone
That holy light is cast.
With such a ray, no spell of thine
Can make our later pleasures shine,
Though long ago they passed.
poem by Anne Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sound Of The Bell
Found a place where we can talk
I found a way to reach a little ground
Keep your castle in my sandbox
Build it up so we can burn it down
Anyway I love my man
Love to keep him spinning round and round
Keep him feeling love for my hand
Any way to turn him inside out
I dont wanna go down like the sunlight
I dont wanna go out like the moonlight
I dont wanna be found at the sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
Meet me up and down again
Every time is sweeter than the last
Once you get a taste of impact
Youre always hungry for the crash
I dont wanna go down like the sunlight
I dont wanna go out like the moonlight
I dont wanna be found at the sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
And this is everything
I have loved
Yeah, I have loved
Break...
My...
Heart...
Down, I dont wanna go down like the sunlight
I dont wanna go out like the moonlight
I dont wanna be found at the sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
I dont wanna go down like the sunlight
I dont wanna go out like the moonlight
I dont wanna be found at the sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
Yeah...
(I dont wanna be found in the sunshine
I dont wanna be dim like a night light
I dont wanna be down like the sunlight
I dont wanna go out like the moonlight...)
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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