The Wraith
Ah me, it is cold and chill
And the fire sobs low in the grate,
While the wind rides by on the hill,
And the logs crack sharp with hate.
And she, she is cold and sad
As ever the sinful are,
But deep in my heart I am glad
For my wound and the coming scar.
Oh, ever the wind rides by
And ever the raindrops grieve;
But a voice like a woman's sigh
Says, 'Do you believe, believe?'
Ah, you were warm and sweet,
Sweet as the May days be;
Down did I fall at your feet,
Why did you hearken to me?
Oh, the logs they crack and whine,
And the water drops from the eaves;
But it is not rain but brine
Where my dead darling grieves.
And a wraith sits by my side,
A spectre grim and dark;
Are you gazing here open-eyed
Out to the lifeless dark?
But ever the wind rides on,
And we sit close within;
Out of the face of the dawn,
I and my darling,--sin.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Related quotes
Viewing Cac-Co Cavern
Heaven and earth brought forth this rocky mass
its face cut by a deep crevasse
crack's dark mouth shagged with moss
pines rocking in wind rush.
Here sweet water spatters down
and the path into the cleft is dark.
Praise whoever sculpted stone
then left it bare for all to see.
Here is another translation of the same poem:
Yin and Yang created this chunk of rock;
A deep and dark crack split it into two blocks.
Moss covered openings expose themselves with impudence
Wind enhanced firs produce sound of rhythmic cadence.
Drops of romantic water fall with splash
Roads to nowhere lead in dark labyrinth.
Praise to the scuptor inventing this distortion
Indecent exposure invites lots of observation.
poem by Ho Xuan Huong
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Dark Road Ahead
The dark road ahead goes
On and On
Till I can stand no more
I sit down by an oak
And start to drift away
Into the distance I can see
A looming figure staring at me
On a horse it rides
On the on going road
He rides on the wind and the owl
Hoots he's coming home
The figure on the horse sits straight
And has a silhouette of black
As I drift to sleep I can't help but
Remember the figure from a dream
As it approaches I fall
Asleep
But for many days to come
In my dreams it'll stay
poem by Taylor Scherer
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Come Out with Me
There's sun on the river and sun on the hill . . .
You can hear the sea if you stand quite still!
There's eight new puppies at Roundabout Farm-
And I saw an old sailor with only one arm!
But everyone says, "Run along!"
(Run along, run along!)
All of them say, "Run along! I'm busy as can be."
Every one says, "Run along,
There's a little darling!"
If I'm a little darling, why don't they run with me?
There's wind on the river and wind on the hill . . .
There's a dark dead water-wheel under the mill!
I saw a fly which had just been drowned-
And I know where a rabbit goes into the ground!
But everyone says, "Run along!"
(Run along, run along!)
All of them say, "Yes, dear," and never notice me.
Every one says, "Run along,
There's a little darling!"
If I'm a little darling, why won't they come and see?
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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The Hunter's Moon
The Hunter's Moon rides high,
High o'er the close-cropped plain;
Across the desert sky
The herded clouds amain
Scamper tumultuously,
Chased by the hounding wind
That yelps behind.
The clamorous hunt is done,
Warm-housed the kennelled pack;
One huntsman rides alone
With dangling bridle slack;
He wakes a hollow tone,
Far echoing to his horn
In clefts forlorn.
The Hunter's Moon rides low,
Her course is nearly sped.
Where is the panting roe?
Where hath the wild deer fled?
Hunter and hunted now
Lie in oblivion deep:
Dead or asleep.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Cold Wind Waits
though the frost is gone, the
cold wind waits.
the robin sings while the
cold wind waits.
a gentle breeze
now blows the wheat,
but a threat of rain
will change to sleet.
the summer slips and the
cold wind waits.
though the warm wind blows, the
cold wind waits.
the traffic crawls while the
cold wind waits.
it's dark too early,
winter too soon,
light of the sun
will change to moon.
the weather turns and the
cold wind waits.
(2011-Bolingbrook, IL)
poem by Mark Money
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The Rainy Day
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part. 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf VI. -- The Wraith Of Odin
The guests were loud, the ale was strong,
King Olaf feasted late and long;
The hoary Scalds together sang;
O'erhead the smoky rafters rang.
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.
The door swung wide, with creak and din;
A blast of cold night-air came in,
And on the threshold shivering stood
A one-eyed guest, with cloak and hood.
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.
The King exclaimed, 'O graybeard pale!
Come warm thee with this cup of ale.'
The foaming draught the old man quaffed,
The noisy guests looked on and laughed.
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.
Then spake the King: 'Be not afraid;
Sit here by me.' The guest obeyed,
And, seated at the table, told
Tales of the sea, and Sagas old.
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.
And ever, when the tale was o'er,
The King demanded yet one more;
Till Sigurd the Bishop smiling said,
''T is late, O King, and time for bed.'
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.
The King retired; the stranger guest
Followed and entered with the rest;
The lights were out, the pages gone,
But still the garrulous guest spake on.
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.
As one who from a volume reads,
He spake of heroes and their deeds,
Of lands and cities he had seen,
And stormy gulfs that tossed between.
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.
Then from his lips in music rolled
The Havamal of Odin old,
With sounds mysterious as the roar
Of billows on a distant shore.
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.
'Do we not learn from runes and rhymes
Made by the gods in elder times,
And do not still the great Scalds teach
That silence better is than speech?'
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.
Smiling at this, the King replied,
'Thy lore is by thy tongue belied;
For never was I so enthralled
Either by Saga-man or Scald,'
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.
The Bishop said, 'Late hours we keep!
Night wanes, O King! 't is time for sleep!'
Then slept the King, and when he woke
The guest was gone, the morning broke.
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.
They found the doors securely barred,
They found the watch-dog in the yard,
There was no footprint in the grass,
And none had seen the stranger pass.
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.
King Olaf crossed himself and said:
'I know that Odin the Great is dead;
Sure is the triumph of our Faith,
The one-eyed stranger was his wraith.'
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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As the cold wind blows
As the cold wind blows
I smile and laugh
As the cold wind blows
Im warm and safe
As the cold wind blows
The fire inside is hot
As the cold wind blows
My love is not for naught
As the cold wind blows
My love keeps me warm
As the cold wind blows
I feel only this love
Warming me making me
The man I am today
As the cold wind blows
I know soon this cold wind will blow away.
poem by Troy Nichols
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A Death-Parting
LEAVES and rain and the days of the year,
(Water-willow and wellaway,)
All these fall, and my soul gives ear,
And she is hence who once was here.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
Ah! but now, for a secret sign,
(The willow's wan and the water white,)
In the held breath of the day's decline
Her very face seemed pressed to mine.
(With a wind blown day and night.)
O love, of my death my life is fain;
(The willows wave on the water-way,)
Your cheek and mine are cold in the rain,
But warm they'll be when we meet again.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
Mists are heaved and cover the sky;
(The willows wail in the waning light,)
O loose your lips, leave space for a sigh,—
They seal my soul, I cannot die.
(With a wind blown day and night.)
Leaves and rain and the days of the year,
(Water-willow and wellaway,)
All still fall, and I still give ear,
And she is hence, and I am here.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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To His Love
(With his first book of 'Songs')
'MY Sweet, my Child, through all this night
Of dark and wind and rain,
Where thunder crashes, and the light
Sears the bewildered brain,
'It is your Face, your lips, your eyes
I see rise up; I hear
Your Voice that sobs and calls and cries,
Or shrills and mocks at fear.
'O this that's mine is yours as well,
For side by side our feet
Trod through these bitter brakes of hell.
Take it, my Child, my Sweet!'
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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The Girl In The Swing
Do you see them coming through fields of snow?
Do you see them riding through fields of snow?
One rides for a woman who has no name
One rides for a king
And one just rides and rides and rides and rides
For the girl in the swing
They race like phantoms in the belmont light
You see them follow the belmont light
They ride through places where the walls are white
Where the noble voices of women sing
A brace of thanks and silent night
And a song for the girl in the swing
Well, you just asked me do I know what love is
Well, sure I know, sure I know what love is
Its the thief of sleep, a boy and his dog
A red rubber ball, these old foolish things
A rain that falls a long, long way from home
It lives in the girl in the swing!
It lives in the girl in the swing...
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Girl In The Swing
Do you see them coming through fields of snow?
do you see them riding through fields of snow?
One rides for a woman who has no name
one rides for a king
And one just rides and rides and rides and rides
for the girl in the swing
They race like phantoms in the Belmont light
you see them follow the Belmont light
They ride through places where the walls are white
where the noble voices of women sing
A brace of thanks and silent night
and a song for the girl in the swing
Well, you just asked me do I know what love is
well, sure I know, sure I know what love is
It's the thief of sleep, a boy and his dog
a red rubber ball, these old foolish things
A rain that falls a long, long way from home
it lives in the girl in the swing!
It lives in the girl in the swing...
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Girl In The Swing
Do you see them coming through fields of snow?
Do you see them riding through fields of snow?
One rides for a woman who has no name
One rides for a king
And one just rides and rides and rides and rides
For the girl in the swing
They race like phantoms in the belmont light
You see them follow the belmont light
They ride through places where the walls are white
Where the noble voices of women sing
A brace of thanks and silent night
And a song for the girl in the swing
Well, you just asked me do I know what love is
Well, sure I know, sure I know what love is
Its the thief of sleep, a boy and his dog
A red rubber ball, these old foolish things
A rain that falls a long, long way from home
It lives in the girl in the swing!
It lives in the girl in the swing...
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Don't Care, You Can't Care
It's dark, dank and dreary
The Wind is cold and uncomforting
But I am just another Raindrop
That lands on your Leaves,
You stand rooted to the ground
Not even the Wind moves you
And the Rain touches you.
As I land on your Leaf,
Trying to retain, to remain there
Just for a second, to be a part of you;
The Wind blows me away 'whoosh'
And I am gone.
But you don't look back,
The Roots tell you 'no' as the
Wind continues to blow...
Lying on the ground, looking
Back up at what could have been
You stand there, alone, the
Wind howling, the Rain falling,
And you don't care,
You can't care. Is it the
Wind or the Rain? Or are you just too vain?
Strangely, stupidly, sadly; I
Give you another chance, I try
To talk to you, but you let the
Wind shake your Leaves, the
Rain fall on you, you watch
those Raindrops slide off you
Each and every one falls to the earth
You don't care, You can't care.
poem by E.D. French
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The Black Horse Rider
For George Anthell
Between them is the land of broken colors,
the land that makes a mock of him
with miles.
He rides, he rides,
he passes through the flat
chrome wheatfields
cut by the plough of the river makers.
The hills are aslant,
the clay torsos, the hills,
the clay has a red wound,
it gapes.
The white roots cry,
there is a mute susurrus in the dark:
poppies, poppies are you not
their pain?
With hoof on flint and flint
the black horse
rides: black wind, black
against fire.
The black horse crooks his
forelegs, the hills split open,
his nostrils pour flame.
Snort, snort through miles,
O charger, through rock.
He drinks the mezas,
he burns his thin knees over
braziers of grass:
Ride, ride.
Sky is spilt water,
a silver hello is flung
from star to star.
Black horse breaks
fire underfoot and now
his mane is a burnt city,
his mouth churned ocean,
foam on his belly a constellation.
At last he tramples
the sand
behemoth
Asleep before the sea.
poem by Pierre Loving
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Falco Rides Again
These are the given lyrics for this song, but to my ears, most of the first verse sounds to me to be in german.
This is the story of a lonely man
Whos seen the world
From japan to afghanistan
Hey! ho!
Everybody thought that I was gone for good
But Im back - understood
Hey! ho!
Ive been through the snow and the storm
Felt the cold
No one to keep me warm
Agony and pain
Falco rides again - bang bang
I wont break
I wont bend
Falco rides again
Its me and my gang
I came back just like a boomerang
Ill fight till the end
Falco rides again
Ive been up, Ive been down
Ive been pushed around
Beated, mistreated,
Gagged and bound
Hey! ho!
Not a soul in the world thought I would survive
Took every muscle in my body to stay alive
Hey! ho!
Ill break down the walls
No more defeat
I want the taste of victory
Revenge is sweet
... rides again!
song performed by by Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Mother's Wail
The sweet young Spring walks over the earth,
It flushes and glows on moor and lea;
The birds are singing in careless mirth,
The brook flows cheerily on to the sea;
And I know that the flowers are blooming now
Over my beautiful darling's brow:
Blooming and blowing in perfume now
Over my poor lost darling's brow.
The breath of the passionate Summer turns
The green of the hills to a deeper dye;
The wind from the south land blows and burns,
The sun grows red in the brazen sky;
And I know that the long, dank grasses wave
Over my beautiful darling's grave:
Rise and fall, and lift and wave
Over my darling's narrow grave.
The days flow on, and the summer dies,
And glorious Autumn takes the crown;
And toward the south the robin flies,
And the green of the hills grows dull and brown;
And the leaves, all purple, and gold, and red,
Drift over my precious darling's bed:
Drift and flutter, all gold and red,
Over my darling's lowly bed.
The Winter comes with its chilling snows,
And wraps the world in a spotless shroud;
And cold from the north the wild wind blows,
And the tempest rages fierce and loud;
It shrieks, and sobs, and sighs, and weeps
Over the mound where my darling sleeps:
In pity, it sobs, and sighs, and weeps
Over the mound where my lost one sleeps.
He was so young, and fair, and brave:
The pride of my bosom-my heart's best joy;
And he lieth now in a drunkard's grave;
My beautiful darling, my only boy:
But down in my heart of hearts, I know
He has gone where his tempters never can go:
To heaven his soul has gone, I know,
Where the soul of his tempters never can go.
They charmed him into their licensed hell,
They gave him rum, and his eye grew wild;
And lower and lower down he fell,
Till they made a fiend of my precious child:
May the curses of God fall on the soul
Who gave my darling the poison bowl!
Ay, curses dark and deep on the soul
Who tempted my darling to lift the bowl!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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November
There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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Winter Song
Its a cold, cold feeling
On a real lazy wind
That blows all the way trough you
And the autumn begins
How it cuts like a sabre
How it chills to the bone
Youve got cold feet and fingers
And youre thinking of home
If I put my arms around you
Take you in from the storm
From your autumn through winter
Darling Ill keep you warm
My overcoats empty
Deep, wide and long
I got room for you darling
Till your winter, till your winter has gone
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another One Rides The Bus
(parody of queens another one bites the dust)
Riding in the bus down the boulevard
And the place was pretty packed (yeah!)
Couldnt find a seat so I had to stand
With the perverts in the back
It was smelling like a locker room
There was junk all over the floor
Were already packed in like sardines
But were stopping to pick up more, look out
(chorus)
Another one rides the bus
Another one rides the bus
Another comes on and another comes on
Another one rides the bus
Hey, hes gonna sit by you
Another one rides the bus
Theres a suitcase poking me in the ribs
Theres an elbow in my ear
Theres a smelly old bum standing next to me
Hasnt showered in a year
I think Im missing a contact lens
I think my wallets gone
And I think this bus is stopping again
To let a couple more freaks get on look out
(chorus)
(weird sound effects)
Another one rides the bus
Another one rides the bus
Another one rides the bus ow
Another one rides the bus hey hey
Another one rides the bus hey-ey-ey-ey
The window doesnt open and the fan is broke
And my face is turning blue (yeah)
I havent been in a crowd like this
Since I went to see the who
Well I shouldve got off a couple miles ago
But I couldnt get to the door
There isnt any room for me to breathe
And now were gonna pick up more
(chorus)
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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