En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Good-bye

Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home;
Thou art my friend, and I'm not thine.
Long through thy weary crowds I roam;
A river-ark on the ocean brine,
Long I've been tossed like the driven foam;
But now, proud world! I'm going home.

Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face;
To Grandeur with his wise grimace;
To upstart Wealth's averted eye;
To supple Office, low and high;
To crowded halls, to court and street;
To frozen hearts and hasting feet;
To those who go, and those who come;
Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home.

I am going to my own hearth-stone,
Bosomed to yon green hills alone,--
A secret nook in a pleasant land,
Whose groves the frolic fairies planned;
Where arches green, the livelong day,
Echo the blackbird's roundelay,
And vulgar feet have never trod
A spot that is sacred to thought and God.

O, when I am safe in my sylvan home,
I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome;
And when I am stretched beneath the pines,
Where the evening star so holy shines,
I laugh at the lore and the pride of man,
At the sophist schools and the learned clan;
For what are they all, in their high conceit,
When man in the bush with God may meet?

poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good-by

Good-by, proud world, I'm going home,
Thou'rt not my friend, and I'm not thine;
Long through thy weary crowds I roam;
A river-ark on the ocean brine,
Long I've been tossed like the driven foam,
But now, proud world, I'm going home.

Good-by to Flattery's fawning face,
To Grandeur, with his wise grimace,
To upstart Wealth's averted eye,
To supple Office low and high,
To crowded halls, to court, and street,
To frozen hearts, and hasting feet,
To those who go, and those who come,
Good-by, proud world, I'm going home.

I'm going to my own hearth-stone
Bosomed in yon green hills, alone,
A secret nook in a pleasant land,
Whose groves the frolic fairies planned;
Where arches green the livelong day
Echo the blackbird's roundelay,
And vulgar feet have never trod
A spot that is sacred to thought and God.

Oh, when I am safe in my sylvan home,
I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome;
And when I am stretched beneath the pines
Where the evening star so holy shines,
I laugh at the lore and the pride of man,
At the sophist schools, and the learned clan;
For what are they all in their high conceit,
When man in the bush with God may meet.

poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Uptown Down-home Good Ol Boy

Hell never wear a business suit
Cowboy hats and bull hide boots just suit him fine
See that buckle shine
He won it in a rodeo
On a horse named desperado
And he won the ride but he broke his back
Hit so hard he heard it crack
No more rodeo
But you cant keep a good man down
A line of western wear uptown heard of his fame
And they bought his name
Now he looks down from a suite
At the silver limo parked out on the street
And hes not just a face in a martini crowd
He drinks long neck bud and gets a little loud
The mans back on his feet
Hes an uptown down-home good ol boy
In a business world so fast
On a horse of a different color
But hell hang on til the last
Hes still the local hero
Hes the hometown pride and joy
Hes an uptown down-home good ol boy
A woman loved him through it all mbr> through his rowdy days and his hardest fall when he almost died
She stayed by his side
Shes still right there today
He wouldnt have it any other way
And he never did get too proud
To hang out with the same old crowd
Were proud to say
Hes an uptown down-home good ol boy
In a business world so fast
Oh but its a different saddle
Than he once rode in the past
Hes the hometown pride and joy
Hes an uptown down-home good ol boy
Hes an uptown down-home good ol boy

song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Jersey Is My Home

Im proud new jersey is my home
Yeah said Im proud now new jersey is my home
Well theyre breaking out the tractors to build more interstates
Theyre moving out my neighbors all across the garden state
Im proud new jersey is my home
Yeah said Im proud now new jersey is my home
Theyre closing all the factories making people lose their jobs
While the fat cats get rich living high upon the hog
Im proud new jersey is my home
Yeah said Im proud now new jersey is my home
Yeah theyre grooving down at freehold this birds left in line (? )
? aint what the people had in mind
Im proud new jersey is my home
Yeah said Im proud now new jersey is my home
Im proud new jersey is my home
Yeah so proud that new jersey is my home
Yes were not gonna take it gonna make that final stand
cuz you know we aint ever gonna let them destroy the promised land
Yeah, yeah, yeah
New jersey is my home
New jersey is my home
New jersey is my home and I like it
Yeah Im going down the garden state parkway Im passing my hometowns
Im going here to get my friends gonna mess around this town
Yeah, yeah

song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come On Home

(tom springfield)
The springfields
Don't stand there wailing "got no place to go"
Come on home
You look at me like that and i can't say no
Come on home
Well, i know you done me wrong
And i know i should be strong
But, i cried the whole night long
So, come on home
Come on home
Tell me baby, must you be so cruel?
Come on home
You treat me just like i'm some kind of fool
Come on home
Well, i know you let me down
I was glad when you left town
But, you're good to have around
So, come on home
Don't run away now
Come on home
You got your way now
Come on home
A-hear what i say now
Come on home
Come on home
When you smile at me well i feel so good
Come on home
I can't be mad at you like i know i should
Come on home
Well you took me for a ride
And i thought my love had died
Still i need you by my side
So come on home
Come on home
Come on home
Come on home
Come on home
Come on home
Yeah, when you smile at me well i feel so good
Come on home
I can't be mad at you a-like i know i should
Come on home
Well, you took me for a ride
And i thought my love had died
Still, i need you by my side
So, come on home
Said yes
Come on home
Sit down
Come on home
Come on home

song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas poem for the troops

Away from your familys
death all around
Christmas is just a day for you guys
dont forget America is proud

Proud for your service
keeping the world free
you are star on Americas Tree

So when you feel down
and you wish you were home
look up in the sky
and relize you are not alone

America loves you on this christmas and every day
please come home safe
because without you
the hoildays in America just are not the same

God bless the troops on this hoilday season
come home soon

poem by Vincent Armone
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The House of Christmas

There fared a mother driven forth
Out of an inn to roam;
In the place where she was homeless
All men are at home.
The crazy stable close at hand,
With shaking timber and shifting sand,
Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand
Than the square stones of Rome.

For men are homesick in their homes,
And strangers under the sun,
And they lay on their heads in a foreign land
Whenever the day is done.
Here we have battle and blazing eyes,
And chance and honour and high surprise,
But our homes are under miraculous skies
Where the yule tale was begun.

A Child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam;
Only where He was homeless
Are you and I at home;
We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
But our hearts we lost - how long ago!
In a place no chart nor ship can show
Under the sky's dome.

This world is wild as an old wives' tale,
And strange the plain things are,
The earth is enough and the air is enough
For our wonder and our war;
But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings
And our peace is put in impossible things
Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings
Round an incredible star.

To an open house in the evening
Home shall men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless
And all men are at home.

poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Green, Green Grass Of Home

(words & music by claude putman, jr.)
The old home town looks the same,
As I step down from the train,
And there to meet me is my mama and papa
Down the road I look and there runs mary
Hair of gold and lips like cherries
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home
Yes, theyll all be there to meet me,
All creatures smiling sweetly
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home
The old house is still standing,
Though the paint is cracked and dry
And theres an old oak tree that I used to play on
Down the lane Ill walk with my sweet mary
Hair of gold and lips like cherries
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home
Then I awake and look around me
Cold gray walls surround me
And I realize that I was only dreamin
Theres a guard and theres a sad old padre
Arm and arm well walk at daybreak
Again Ill touch the green, green grass of home
Yes, theyll all be there to meet me
In the shadow of that old oak tree
As they lay me beneath the green, green grass of home

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The House of Christmas

There fared a mother driven forth
Out of an inn to roam;
In the place where she was homeless
All men are at home.
The crazy stable close at hand,
With shaking timber and shifting sand,
Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand
Than the square stones of Rome.

For men are homesick in their homes,
And strangers under the sun,
And they lay on their heads in a foreign land
Whenever the day is done.
Here we have battle and blazing eyes,
And chance and honour and high surprise,
But our homes are under miraculous skies
Where the yule tale was begun.

A Child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam;
Only where He was homeless
Are you and I at home;
We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
But our hearts we lost - how long ago!
In a place no chart nor ship can show
Under the sky's dome.

This world is wild as an old wives' tale,
And strange the plain things are,
The earth is enough and the air is enough
For our wonder and our war;
But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings
And our peace is put in impossible things
Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings
Round an incredible star.

To an open house in the evening
Home shall men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless
And all men are at home.

poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rendition

I HEARD the train's shrill whistle call,
I saw an earnest look beseech,
And rather by that look than speech
My neighbor told me all.
And, as I thought of Liberty
Marched handcuffed down that sworded street,
The solid earth beneath my feet
Reeled fluid as the sea.
I felt a sense of bitter loss, —
Shame, tearless grief, and stifling wrath,
And loathing fear, as if my path
A serpent stretched across.
All love of home, all pride of place,
All generous confidence and trust,
Sank smothering in that deep disgust
And anguish of disgrace.
Down on my native hills of June,
And home's green quiet, hiding all,
Fell sudden darkness like the fall
Of midnight upon noon!
And Law, an unloosed maniac, strong,
Blood-drunken, through the blackness trod,
Hoarse-shouting in the ear of God
The blasphemy of wrong.
'O Mother, from thy memories proud,
Thy old renown, dear Commonwealth,
Lend this dead air a breeze of health,
And smite with stars this cloud.
'Mother of Freedom, wise and brave,
Rise awful in thy strength,' I said;
Ah me! I spake but to the dead;
I stood upon her grave!

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Deus Misereatur

PLEASANT the ways whereon our feet were led,
Sweet the young hills, the valleys of content,
But now the hours of dew and dream have fled.
Lord, we are spent.

We did not heed Thy warning in the skies,
We have not heard Thy voice nor known Thy fold;
But now the world is darkening to our eyes.
Lord, we grow old.

Now the sweet stream turns bitter with our tears,
Now dies the star we followed in the west,
Now are we sad and ill at ease with years.
Lord, we would rest.

Lo, our proud lamps are emptied of their light,
Weary our hands to toil, our feet to roam;
Our day is past and swiftly falls Thy night.
Lord, lead us home.

poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Retreat.

Against my lonely latter years
I'll build a faery home for me —
Proof against sorrow with its fears,
And age with its adversity.
Within a region bosomed high
Above the ways of worldly men,
In a demesne where by-and-by
I oft shall come and go again.
Ah! there my home in a green nook
Shall sweetly stand the siege of time,
Where Thought may read his riddle-book
As to the murmur of old rhyme.
And faery footings still shall lead
My feet among mesmeric ways,
Where life is like a dream indeed,
And all the days are summer days.
But sylphs and fays and simple things
Shall murmur in my pensive ear,
Until the change shall come that brings
Me and my world to ruin here.

poem by Robert Crawford
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The Good Earth

When I was a child and the road was dark and the way was long and alone,
My heart would lift as I turned the bend and saw the lights of home.
Now high above in a silent sky,
In a still and starry space,
A man looks down on the earth below,
And that blue and green and shining glow,
To him is the lights of home.
Its the good earth, yes the good earth.
Its a land of sun and rain and snow,
And mulberry trees and mistletoe,
And burning plains and raging seas,
And sunday morning taking your ease,
Watching your children grow.
Its the good earth, yes the good earth,
Where we fought and loved and killed and died,
And ruined and ravished the countryside,
But now, from a million miles away,
From another world thats cold and gray,
Someone is able to look and say,
Thats the good earth.
So isnt it time we stopped the tears?
Weve lived together for thousands of years,
And whether Im wrong, and whether youre right,
Whether youre black, and whether Im white,
One day well stand on the edge of the world,
And someone will ask us the land of our birth,
And well look into his eyes and quietly say:
Its the good earth, yes the good earth.
Why cant we be good on the good earth?

song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Ground

After driving all night Daddy stopped the car
Said, "Wake up kids, here we are
This is our new home"
From that Oldsmobile all I could see
Was an ocean of fields out in front of me
It just rolled on, on and on
Daddy crossed the fence and he knelt down
Filled his hands with rich farmland and said
"This is good ground"
I had it all underneath my feet
There was room to grow - there was time to breathe
And dreams stretched high under summer skies
This is where I'm from - this is who I am
Down these roads I became a man
And they're calling me - where my roots run deep
Deep down - this is good ground
Mama had me diggin' in her flower bed
There it was an arrowhead
And all I wanted to be, was Cherokee
Seasons change and childhood goes
I laid down my homemade bow for a brown-eyed girl
She changed my world
I learned to drive so we could ride around
We made the sweetest memories in it
On good ground
I had it all underneath my feet
There was room to grow - there was time to breathe
And dreams stretched high under summer skies
This is where I'm from - this is who I am
Down these roads I became a man
And they're calling me where my roots run deep
Deep down - this is good ground
I drove all night then I stopped the car
Said, "Wake up kids, here we are
This is our new home
It's been too long"
Crossed that fence and I knelt down
Said, "Everybody gather 'round
Hold out your hands, this is good ground"
You've got it all underneath your feet
There's room to grow - there's time to breathe
And dreams stretch high under summer skies
This is where I'm from - this is who I am
Down these roads I became a man
And they're calling me where my roots run deep
Deep down - this is good ground

song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Tribute To Canada Revised

Canada is home to the Roccky Mountains
Canada is home to the golden mine
Canada is home to the Fishery in dustries
Canada is home to the oil industries
Canada is a land that was made for the refues from all over the world
That came here to start a new lives also
Canada is multicultural
Canada stand strong and free
Canada is my home also and I am proud also to call Canada my home
Canada is home to thte seaguls and the robyns
Canada is home to the foxes
Canada is home to the wild bears
Canada is home to the deers

poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Green Green Grass Of Home

The old hometown looks the same
As I step down from the train
And there to meet me is my mama and papa
And down the road I look and there runs Mary
Her golden lips like cherries
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, they've all come to meet me
Arms reaching, smiling sweetly
It's so good to touch the
Green, green grass of home.
The old house is still standing
Though the paint is cracked and dry
And there's that old oak tree that I used to play on
Down the lane I'd walk with my sweet Mary
Her golden lips like cherries
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yesm they've all come
Arms reaching, smiling sweetly
It's so good to touch the
Green, green grass of home.
Then I awake and look around me
At the gray walls that surround me
And I realized that I was only dreaming
For there's a guard and there's a sad old padre
Arm in arm, we'll walk at daybreak
Again I'll touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes they'll all come to see me
In the shade of that old oak tree
As they lay me neath the
Green, green grass of home...

song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Green Green Grass Of Home

The old home town looks the same as I step down from the train,
And there to meet me is my mama and papa.
Down the road I look and there runs mary hair of gold and lips like cherries.
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, theyll all come to meet me, arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
The old house is still standing tho the paint is cracked and dry,
And theres that old oak tree I used to play on.
Down the lane I walk with my sweet mary, hair of gold and lips like cherries.
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, theyll all come to meet me, arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
[spoken:]
Then I awake and look around me, at four grey wall surround me
And I realize that I was only dreaming.
For theres a guard and theres a sad old padre -
Arm in arm well walk at daybreak.
Again I touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, theyll all come to see me in the shade of that old oak tree
As they lay me neath the green, green grass of home

song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Black Home.

In my black home
Sometimes the opposite skin
Is perceived to be supreme
Even than our kin.

In my black home
Leaders see their reigns
Everlasting and forget that
Big ones had come and gone as the rains
That fell yesterday.

In my black home
My brothers desire
Toiling on lands of the white
And on return bring home pastures
So green to get here
If the peaks had made patriotism
Prior to party love
Would it be so?

In my black home
Sometimes my sisters
Are forced to marry
My parents friend.

In my black home
Despite these
There are more natural resources
The gold and green
And the fuel
And for all these I am proud more
Despite the eyesore
In my black home.

poem by Elorm Dogbo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Village Girl And Her High-Born Suitor

“O maiden, peerless, come dwell with me,
And bright shall I render thy destiny:
Thou shalt leave thy cot by the green hillside,
To dwell in a palace home of pride,
Where crowding menials, with lowly mien,
Shall attend each wish of their lovely queen.”

“Ah! stranger my cot by the green hillside
Hath more charms for me than thy halls of pride;
If the roof be lowly, the moss rose there
Rich fragrance sheds on the summer air;
And the birds and insects, with joyous song,
Are more welcome far than a menial throng.”

“Child, tell me not so! too fair art thou,
With thy starry eyes and thy queenlike brow,
To dwell in this spot, sequestered and lone,
Thy marvelous beauty to all unknown;
And that form, which might grace a throne, arrayed
In the lowly garb of a peasant maid.”

“Nay, a few short days since didst thou not say
That I in my rustic kirtle gray
In thine eyes looked lovelier fairer far
Than robed in rich state as court ladies are;
And the wreath of violets in my hair
Pleased thee more than diamond or ruby rare.”

“Beloved! if thus coldly thou turn’st aside
From the tempting lures of wealth and pride,
Sure thy woman’s heart must some pity own
For one who breathes for thy self alone,
And who would brave suffering, grief and toil
To win from thy rose lips one shy, sweet smile.”

“Ah! enough of this—thy love may be true,
But I have tried friends who love me too;
And in proud homes governed by fashion’s voice,
Thou would’st learn to blush for thy lowly choice.
Go, seek thee a noble, a high born bride,
And leave me my cot by the green hillside!”

poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After All

The brooding ghosts of Australian night have gone from the bush and town;
My spirit revives in the morning breeze,
though it died when the sun went down;
The river is high and the stream is strong,
and the grass is green and tall,
And I fain would think that this world of ours is a good world after all.

The light of passion in dreamy eyes, and a page of truth well read,
The glorious thrill in a heart grown cold of the spirit I thought was dead,
A song that goes to a comrade's heart, and a tear of pride let fall --
And my soul is strong! and the world to me is a grand world after all!

Let our enemies go by their old dull tracks,
and theirs be the fault or shame
(The man is bitter against the world who has only himself to blame);
Let the darkest side of the past be dark, and only the good recall;
For I must believe that the world, my dear, is a kind world after all.

It well may be that I saw too plain, and it may be I was blind;
But I'll keep my face to the dawning light,
though the devil may stand behind!
Though the devil may stand behind my back, I'll not see his shadow fall,
But read the signs in the morning stars of a good world after all.

Rest, for your eyes are weary, girl -- you have driven the worst away --
The ghost of the man that I might have been is gone from my heart to-day;
We'll live for life and the best it brings till our twilight shadows fall;
My heart grows brave, and the world, my girl, is a good world after all.

poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Green Green Grass Of Home

The old home town looks the same as I step off the train
Meeting every train in my mind's eye till the man in mail came
Hair like gold, lips like cherry
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home
Green, green grass of home, green green grass of home.
Only dream I know of is to be found hair like gold, lips like a cherry
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home
They'll all come to greet me, on the steps of my sweet dream
It's good I dreamt the green, green grass of home
I wait and look around me at the broken walls that surround me
And out here I was on the ground.
There's a garden in the path of progress unharmed through winter's day break
Then I'll touch the green, green grass of home
They'll all come to greet me from the chains of the old dark hollow
The green, green grass of home
They'll all come to greet me on the steps, my sweet dream

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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