A Mock Song
I.
Now Whitehall's in the grave,
And our head is our slave,
The bright pearl in his close shell of oyster;
Now the miter is lost,
The proud Praelates, too, crost,
And all Rome's confin'd to a cloister.
He, that Tarquin was styl'd,
Our white land's exil'd,
Yea, undefil'd;
Not a court ape's left to confute us;
Then let your voyces rise high,
As your colours did flye,
And flour'shing cry:
Long live the brave Oliver-Brutus.
II.
Now the sun is unarm'd,
And the moon by us charm'd,
All the stars dissolv'd to a jelly;
Now the thighs of the Crown
And the arms are lopp'd down,
And the body is all but a belly.
Let the Commons go on,
The town is our own,
We'l rule alone:
For the Knights have yielded their spent-gorge;
And an order is tane
With HONY SOIT profane,
Shout forth amain:
For our Dragon hath vanquish'd the St. George.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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Related quotes
The Roman Gravemounds
By Rome's dim relics there walks a man,
Eyes bent; and he carries a basket and spade;
I guess what impels him to scrape and scan;
Yea, his dreams of that Empire long decayed.
'Vast was Rome,' he must muse, 'in the worlds regard,
Vast it looms there still, Vast it ever will be;'
And he stoops as to dig and unmine some shard
Left by those who are held in such memory.
But no; in his basket, see, he has brought
A little white furred thing, stiff of limb,
Whose life never won from the world a thought;
It is this, and not Rome, that is moving him.
And to make it a grave he has come to the spot,
And he delves in the ancient dead's long home;
Their fames, their achievements, the man knows not;
The furred thing is all to him - nothing Rome!
'Here say you that Caesar's warriors lie? -
But my little white cat was my only friend!
Could she but live, might the record die
Of Caesar, his legions, his aims, his end!'
Well, Rome's long rule here is oft and again
A theme for the sages of history,
And the small furred life was worth no one's pen;
Yet its mourner's mood has a charm for me.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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The Crown
She had twelve stars for diadem;
She had for footstool the full moon;
Her quiet eyes, outshining them,
Kept memories of the night and noon
And the still moms at Nazareth
When in her arms the Child drew breath.
So safe, so warm, He slept by her,
In her enfolding arms at peace,
Her milky babe, little and dear;
And yet the Tree that should be His
Grew in the forest, wide and high,
Whose branches should fill all the sky.
He made twelve stars into her crown
And set the moon below her feet.
He was King in Jerusalem Town,
With twelve spines for His Coronet
To pierce the brain and blood and bone,
Were made for Man's Redemption.
Oh, when she answered Gabriel
With 'Be it done!' could she foresee
The high pangs that she took as well?
With Bethlehem should be Calvary?
Or was that moment of high bliss
Born with sharp pangs, fierce agonies?
Hath she beneath her Crown of Stars
Remembrance of the thorns wherewith
Her people crowned her Son? What scars,
Redder than roses in a wreath,
Doth she wear in a coronal
Under the lights that rise and fall?
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Rainbow Sky
Tonight, I saw a radiant rainbow sky:
Stunning colours, which caught my eye.
Shades of blue, yellow, peach, and red:
Absolutely amazing, it has to be said!
It wasn't very long after the sun had set:
It was an evening sky, which I won't forget.
It was Nature's show, at the close of day,
And I had trouble tearing my eyes away.
I wonder how all those colours appear,
And how they look so bright and clear?
The horizon never looked quite so pretty:
That darkness fell, really was a great pity.
Once darkness fell, there no colours left.
Losing the rainbow sky, I felt quite bereft.
I saw the sky ablaze with colours of fire;
Of seeing such sights, I doubt I'll ever tire.
Away from the horizon, but not too far,
Were a crescent moon, and twinkling star.
This patch of sky had a much darker hue:
I guess some may call it ‘midnight blue.'
In the night sky, the moon and stars shone:
Brighter still, once the daylight had gone.
Tired out, I snuggled down in my cosy bed,
With moon and stars shining over my head.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Oyster's Treasure Trove
Beneath the waves, beneath the stars,
Beneath the sunshine, too,
We'll find the raging tidal bars
That fill the oceans through.
In yonder depths, the oyster's shell
Holds fast its prize within...
For there it rests, content to swell,
Its wonders to begin.
The pearl exists without a care
Inside its Mother's arms...
Engulfed in softness, time to spare
And safe from Nature's harms.
And so it grows, till divers swim
The depths that air departs...
For there, where light itself must dim,
Are secrets that bless hearts...
The oyster rises to the sun
Where Man is known to live.
The pearl is prized out by someone,
Its special home to give.
Sometimes in silver it's been set...
Sometimes it's blessed by gold.
If so, it's lost all past regret...
What beauty we behold!
Across the world the ring is flown
Within its precious case.
It's sold on TV where it's shown
Exquisitely with grace!
A husband buys it for his wife
To celebrate their love
And so she wears it through her life
With thanks to God above...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Southern Girl
Hmm...
Yeah, show you right
Come on
Shing a ling shing, shing a ling shong
Shing a ling shing, shing a ling shong
Shing a ling shing, shing a ling shong
Twing twing dign ding dong
I'm from the South
I'm a Southern Girl
Home of the burning church
Don't know much about the world
Home of the pocket stones
Home of the booty songs
Home of the fingerwave that lasts
All night long
Home of the On
song performed by by Erykah Badu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've Spent To Long
I've spent to long not caring,
I've spent to long away,
And now you want me back,
To live just like before,
You want to take my hand again,
You want my love to stay,
But I've spent to long not caring,
And my love it flew away.
I've spent to long in solitude,
I've spent to long in hope,
And now you want me in your arms,
To stay and hold you close,
You want to take my love again,
Feel despair take it's place,
But I've spent to long in solitude,
And you've lost this blood soaked race.
I've spent to long not caring,
Spent to long away,
Spent to long denying,
I've spent to long awake,
And now you want my slumber,
You want a love to stay,
But I've spent to long not caring,
And love? It fades away.
poem by Holly Heron
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Dreeka Dragon’s Crown
Cold blue ice rain falling down,
falling on the dragon’s crown,
Making it sparkle and shimmer real bright,
the rain keeps pouring all through the night.
When Dragon Queen wakes up to see,
she notices crown has one but three,
three stones that where placed there last night,
placed in the crown very just right.
Placed by an elf that is the keeper at the gate,
he is the one who will see the dragon’s fate.
For he knows where the potion is that will break her spell,
he was there the night in which it fell.
For now dragon is waiting against time,
where she will one day rule in her kingdom divine.
(May 21,2011)
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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May rise again
Friends, All I read with great anguish
You are waging a battle for fight to finish
Still no hope of solution or end in sight
When tunnel will find its bright light
This all happening in our own land
Whom we then call foe or friend?
Our biggest enemy is in control of affair?
Where can we expect everything as fair?
I cry with pain and shed tears
Nothing more to side with you than to bear
We have vitiated the whole land with dishonor
I don't know what we are fighting for
Far flung areas suffer from neglect
We have not time to cater the need and act
All running in the name of God and almighty
What else to feel other than pity?
Though rich in culture and heritage
Still we live in tradition with old age
No one to care and no one to take forward
No means to live with any of the standard
I hear lot many stories for tortures
This can not be seen as bright future
What else do we have to nurture?
How can we make it fix tenure?
Still we live in prime age
Keep humans with chain and in cage
We have nothing to inscribe on the page
No desires left except to burn with rage
I will rise from the grave
I will be that much brave
But not when I am still alive
It is very difficult to survive and live
What to talk of freedom?
It appeals for nothing and heard seldom
It has lost its original charm
In freedom and liberty there is more harm
What will we live for our next generation?
Witness of prisons, ghettos or camps of concentration
Tortures and unbearable pain undergone or humiliation
Was this the award for hard efforts for alleviation?
I shall like to close the eyes and breathe last
It is pushing me to the corner very fast
I have no love left for hollow words
Staying in middle without looking forward or backward
The world has yet to witness the cruelty
It is attributed to our system which is faulty
How can one decide the fate of millions?
When they know nothing or have any liens?
I curse not for their negligence
But prefer to live with such ugly presence
Shall opt for no more violence
Life has become hell unbearable hence
*I may rise again from the grave*
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A Lady With A Falcon On Her Fist. To The Honourable My Cousin A[nne] L[ovelace]
I.
This Queen of Prey (now prey to you),
Fast to that pirch of ivory
In silver chaines and silken clue,
Hath now made full thy victory:
II.
The swelling admirall of the dread
Cold deepe, burnt in thy flames, oh faire!
Wast not enough, but thou must lead
Bound, too, the Princesse of the aire?
III.
Unarm'd of wings and scaly oare,
Unhappy crawler on the land,
To what heav'n fly'st? div'st to what shoare,
That her brave eyes do not command?
IV.
Ascend the chariot of the Sun
From her bright pow'r to shelter thee:
Her captive (foole) outgases him;
Ah, what lost wretches then are we!
V.
Now, proud usurpers on the right
Of sacred beauty, heare your dombe;
Recant your sex, your mastry, might;
Lower you cannot be or'ecome:
VI.
Repent, ye er'e nam'd he or head,
For y' are in falcon's monarchy,
And in that just dominion bred,
In which the nobler is the shee.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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The Death-Day Of Korner
A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
The youth went down to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride.
He went, with his noble heart unworn,
And pure, and high;
An eagle stooping from clouds of morn,
Only to die!
He went with the lyre, whose lofty tone
Beneath his hand
Had thrill'd to the name of his God alone,
And his Father-land.
And with all his glorious feelings yet
In their first glow,
Like a southern stream that no frost hath met
To chain its flow.
A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
For him that went to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride.
He hath left a voice in his trumpet-lays
To turn the flight,
And a guiding spirit for after days,
Like a watch-fire's light.
And a grief in his father's soul to rest,
Midst all high thought;
And a memory unto his mother's breast,
With healing fraught.
And a name and fame above the blight
Of earthly breath,
Beautiful beautiful and bright,
In life and death!
A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
For him that went to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Neon Knights
Oh no, here it comes again
Cant remember when we came so close to love before
Hold on, good things never last
Nothings in the past, it always seems to come again
Again and again and again
Cry out to legions of the brave
Time again to save us from the jackals of the street
Ride out, protectors of the realm
Capatins at the helm, sail across the sea of lights
Circles and rings, dragons and kings
Weaving a charm and a spell
Blessed by the night, holy and bright
Called by the toll of the bell
Bloodied angels fast descending
Moving on a never-bending light
Phantom figures free forever
Out of shadows, shining ever-bright
Neon knights!
Neon knights! all right!
Cry out to legions of the brave
Time again to save us from the jackals of the street
Ride out, protectors of the realm
Capatins at the helm, sail across the sea of lights
Again and again, again and again and again
Neon knights!
Neon knights!
All right!
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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C) Julius Caesar
Enter CASCA and CICERO
CASCA: Tomorrow in the senate we shall have to work. Caesar will be sitting.
CICERO: An orator does not go out of fashion, I shall deliver a speech.
CASCA: To be a conspirator has become fashionable.
CICERO: Our roles are not so definite, we use to ignore them.
CASCA: You yourself mention ignorance! Were not you Princeps Senatus?
CICERO: Though he put the crown by thrice, the dictator wants to be top of Rome.
CASCA: He is really top of Rome. Senators are useless.
CICERO: Antony is his shadow and wants put himself in his place. However I am looking all
around.
CASCA: I am one of your accomplices and wonder whether you are seeing anything interesting.
CICERO: I don't like Marullus. Let's get the tribun of the people killed.
CASCA: Do you want to kill a son, too? We already must kill a father.
CICERO: Maybe I don't like killing fathers.
II,1
Enter MARCUS BRUTUS and PORTIA
BRUTUS: As sentinel greets the dawn, so I greet your return. You are late.
PORTIA: Sure, I was very busy at the market-place. Sometimes woman carries a heavy load.
BRUTUS: We must save Rome. People must honour its laws.
PORTIA: I always honoured those laws.
BRUTUS: For this reason I got married with you and did not want another in your place.
PORTIA: My place is close to our native Lares.
BRUTUS: Tradition is on our side. Our homework is the usual one.
PORTIA: No homework but this: one can not re-wind the spindle of time.
poem by Paolo Giuseppe Mazzarello
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Cleburne
Another ray of light hath fled, another Southern brave
Hath fallen in his country's cause and found a laureled grave-
Hath fallen, but his deathless name shall live when stars shall set,
For, noble Cleburne, thou art one this world will ne'er forget.
'Tis true, thy warm heart beats no more, that on thy noble head
Azrael placed his icy hand, and thou art with the dead;
The glancing of thine eyes are dim; no more will they be bright
Until they ope in Paradise, with clearer, heavenlier light.
No battle news disturbs thy rest upon the sun-bright shore,
No clarion voice awakens thee on earth to wrestle more,
No tramping steed, no wary foe bids thee awake, arise,
For thou art in the angel world, beyond the starry skies.
Brave Cleburne, dream in thy low bed, with pulseless deadened heart;
Calm, calm and sweet, O warrior rest! thou well hast borne thy part,
And now a glory wreath for thee the angels singing twine,
A glory wreath, not of the earth, but made by hands divine.
A long farewell-we give thee up, with all thy bright reknown,
A chieftain here on earth is lost, in heaven an angel found.
Above thy grave a wail is heard-a nation mourns her dead;
A nobler for the South ne'er died, a braver never bled.
A last farewell-how can we speak the bitter word farewell!
The anguish of our bleeding hearts vain words may never tell.
Sleep on, sleep on, to God we give our chieftain in his might;
And weeping, feel he lives on high, where comes no sorrow's night.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Excelsior
When the moon is full and bright
And its charm is falling down,
Every roof you see in town
Is a puddle filled with light.
In the night that's looking blue
Silver rain superbly shines,
Like a dream of lofty rhymes,
Lovely tunes, and whispers, too.
From the starry worlds on high
Magic comes now here below
And envelops nice and slow
The sad valley of the cry.
When the golden dust is great,
Flowers shine and stars are bright,
What bad thoughts can dim the light,
And what dragon, and what fate?
Nature, sky, and God of love,
Dark blue mystery of life!
I don't mind the curse and strife
For you've lifted me above.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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E.b.b.
THE WHITE-ROSE garland at her feet,
The crown of laurel at her head,
Her noble life on earth complete,
Lay her in the last low bed
For the slumber calm and deep:
“He giveth His belovèd sleep.”
Soldiers find their fittest grave
In the field whereon they died;
So her spirit pure and brave
Leaves the clay it glorified
To the land for which she fought
With such grand impassioned thought.
Keats and Shelley sleep at Rome,
She in well-loved Tuscan earth;
Finding all their death’s long home
Far from their old home of birth.
Italy, you hold in trust
Very sacred English dust.
Therefore this one prayer I breathe,—
That you yet may worthy prove
Of the heirlooms they bequeath
Who have loved you with such love:
Fairest land while land of slaves
Yields their free souls no fit graves.
poem by James Thomson
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I Love Only One Girl
(words & music by sid tepper - roy c. bennett)
Oh, I love only one girl, the one I got my arms around
I love only one girl, one in every town
In paris there is mimi, and when the moon is bright
I love to take her walking, along the seine each night
I kiss her on the left, then I kiss her on the right
Oh, I love only one girl, the one I got my arms around
I love only one girl, one in every town
Im proud of my brunhilda, in frankfurt on the rhine
Oh shes a lot of woman and all of her is mine
Oh she can lift a steinway as easy as a stein
Oh, I love only one girl, the one I got my arms around
I love only one girl, one in every town
In naples theres maria how she can cook and flirt
You cant beat her lasagna, I eat until I hurt
And then she tops it off with amore for dessert
Oh, I love only one girl, the one I got my arms around
I love only one girl, one in every town
Oh I love only one girl, the one I got my arms around
I love only one girl, one in every town
I love only one girl...i love only one girl
I love only one girl...i love only one..girl..
Shes the girl for me...
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shout It
Not on this stage to take up space I'm here to communicate face to face
I'll hold my head up high and shout it look you in the eye and shout it
hold my head up high shout it look you in the eye and shout it
criticized for speaking out I guess you don't know what we're about
so I'll hold my head up high and shout its look you in the eye shout it
hold my head up high shout it look you in the eye and shout it
we're just some friends who want to be heard through out music we'll spread our word
trying our best to figure what life is about seeing the good makes me want to shout
shout it there's nothing wrong with saying my part the message I cry is from the heart
won't change my ideas just to please you you've built the walls we're breaking through
song performed by by Youth Of Today
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Night-Blooming Cereus
FLOWER of the moon!
Still white is her brow whom we worshiped on earth long ago;
Yea, purer than pearls in deep seas, and more virgin than snow.
The dull years veil their eyes from her shining, and vanish afraid,
Nor profane her with age—the immortal, nor dim her with shade.
It is we are unworthy, we worldlings, to dwell in her ways;
We have broken her altars and silenced her voices of praise.
She hath hearkened to singing more silvern, seen raptures more bright;
To some planet more pure she hath fled on the wings of the night,—
Flower of the moon!
Yet she loveth the world that forsook her, for, lo! once a year
She, Diana, translucent, pale, scintillant, down from her sphere
Floateth earthward like star-laden music, to bloom in a flower,
And our hearts feel the spell of the goddess once more for an hour.
See! she sitteth in splendor nor knoweth desire nor decay,
And the night is a glory around her more bright than the day,
And her breath hath the sweetness of worlds where no sorrow is known;
And we long as we worship to follow her back to her own,—
Flower of the moon!
poem by Harriet Monroe
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An Autumn Day
Floating all night on waves of clouds
Searching for what life enshrouds
Woke in the morning to the misty dew
Lost in thought of the day anew.
I gaze from the window onto the lawn
And engage my thoughts on the new dawn
The colours and signs of seasonal bliss
These are things you should not miss.
Autumn colours of red, brown and gold
The landscape before you do unfold
Trees burn bright against the sun
The afternoon is nearly done.
As the sun goes down the colours surround
Red, yellow, orange melt into the ground
Night time falls and the colours hue
Turning the sky to a deeper blue.
The moon is out in all it's glory
The stars twinkle bright and showy
As the last of the stars fade away
Comes the breaking of a new day.
poem by Hazel Connelly
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Haiku Rule is No Rule
all the haiku rules
are no rule except
the three liner
i would concur
besides that
you can turn things
upside down
create another realm
with your words
so long as they jolt
the heart to things as banal
as a frog jumping
into an old pond
strike the mind
to give it another
good reason
for its existence
how could there be rules
when the world paints itself
in a thousand languages
throws as many idiosyncracies
as would civilisations draw up rules
for each of its endeavours
remember picasso, van gogh,
how they rule the canvas
and our 'rule abiding' selves
with their no-rule colours and strokes
how could there be a rule
when water like my core
could run in all directions
when this mind could jump
from moon to sun
and a far flung planet
in one second
when these eyes ould
see stars, planets, and suns
in this physique alone:
sun, planets, stars
these moles
all over my body
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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