Variant Form Of The Preceding Poem
COME to me, all ye that labour; I will give your spirits rest;
Here apart in starry quiet I will give you rest.
Come to me, ye heavy laden, sin defiled and care opprest,
In your father's quiet mansions, soon to prove a welcome guest.
But an hour you bear your trial, sin and suffer, bleed and die;
But an hour you toil and combat here in day's inspiring eye.
See the feet of your deliverer; lo, the hour of freedom nigh.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Tempest Tossed And Sore Afflicted
TEMPEST tossed and sore afflicted, sin defiled and care oppressed,
Come to me, all ye that labour; come, and I will give ye rest.
Fear no more, O doubting hearted; weep no more, O weeping eye!
Lo, the voice of your redeemer; lo, the songful morning near.
Here one hour you toil and combat, sin and suffer, bleed and die;
In my father's quiet mansion soon to lay your burden by.
Bear a moment, heavy laden, weary hand and weeping eye.
Lo, the feet of your deliverer; lo, the hour of freedom here.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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A Pair Of Sneakers Bemoan Never Having A Day Off
When you were a baby a sleepin in your cot
Your feet were too small to fit us all
You could barely crawl in your wee teeny socks
And so I sat qute content in the loft
enjoying the freedom of endless days off!
But now you are grown to seventeen stone
You never give me a rest
Once your tootsies are in
I don't get a look in
As your feet rarely leave me alone
Once I was the guest
Now enslaved to your feet
All day I expand and I squeak!
For fourteen hours a day
I just can't get away
From the rot and the sweat of your feet
Why not wear sandals when the Sun shines so hot?
It's not a scandal to give me a rest
When you pick up the pace
I often grimace
As you 'stroll in your shorts and your vest
Once I had a say once I was the guest
Now this smelly affair is my lot
Don't you know it's a treat to walk in bare feet
And give me a well earned day off!
poem by Yvette Smith
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Approaching Night
O take this world away from me;
Its strife I cannot bear to see,
Its very praises hurt me more
Than een its coldness did before,
Its hollow ways torment me now
And start a cold sweat on my brow,
Its noise I cannot bear to hear,
Its joy is trouble to my ear,
Its ways I cannot bear to see,
Its crowds are solitudes to me.
O, how I long to be agen
That poor and independent man,
With labour's lot from morn to night
And books to read at candle light;
That followed labour in the field
From light to dark when toil could yield
Real happiness with little gain,
Rich thoughtless health unknown to pain:
Though, leaning on my spade to rest,
I've thought how richer folks were blest
And knew not quiet was the best.
Go with your tauntings, go;
Neer think to hurt me so;
I'll scoff at your disdain.
Cold though the winter blow,
When hills are free from snow
It will be spring again.
So go, and fare thee well,
Nor think ye'll have to tell
Of wounded hearts from me,
Locked up in your hearts cell.
Mine still at home doth dwell
In its first liberty.
Bees sip not at one flower,
Spring comes not with one shower,
Nor shines the sun alone
Upon one favoured hour,
But with unstinted power
Makes every day his own.
And for my freedom's sake
With such I'll pattern take,
And rove and revel on.
Your gall shall never make
Me honied paths forsake;
So prythee get thee gone.
And when my toil is blest
And I find a maid possest
Of truth that's not in thee,
Like bird that finds its nest
I'll stop and take my rest;
And love as she loves me.
poem by John Clare
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An Hour With Thee
An hour with thee! When earliest day
Dapples with gold the eastern gray,
Oh, what can frame my mind to bear
The toil and turmoil, cark and care,
New griefs, which coming hours unfold,
And sad remembrance of the old?
One hour with thee.
One hour with thee! When burning June
Waves his red flag at pitch of noon;
What shall repay the faithful swain,
His labor on the sultry plain;
And, more than cave or sheltering bough,
Cool feverish blood and throbbing brow?
One hour with thee.
One hour with thee! When sun is set,
Oh, what can teach me to forget
The thankless labors of the day;
The hopes, the wishes, flung away;
The increasing wants, and lessening gains,
The master's pride, who scorns my pains?
One hour with thee.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Calm Is Who I Am Now
CALM IS WHO I AM NOW
Calm is who I am now
Calm and quiet-
I have done
What I could do-
The rest is repetition-
Slowly slowly
Time is taking me away-
How long I do not know-
How much pain I do not know-
Calm is who I am now -
Quiet quiet
Before the fears return again
And the anxiety over what I have not done-
Calm is who I am now
In these moments at this hour
Four in the morning
A small part of the long day to come.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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When The Blue Hour Comes
Orbison/ crowell
The good times are all gone
The night keeps coming on so strong
You cant hold on, no matter what you do
Will there be someone who cares for you
When the blue hour comes?
When the blue hour comes?
And when your restless heart
Tears your world apart
And everywhere you turn
Its falling down on you
Will there be a light that shines for you?
When the blue hour comes for you
If theres anything that you would have me do
Just call on me and Ill be coming through
I will always be there for you
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
Good times dont last forever
Sometimes its now or never
Darling, reach out for me
You know where Ill be
I will always be there for you
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes for you
If theres anything that you would have me do
Just call on me and Ill be coming through
I will always be there for you
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
I will always be there
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes....(repeat to fade)
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Write in the quiet hour
Write in the quiet hour
~
while the world still sleeps
a wind blows gently cooling
light eases into darkness
thoughts stir into focus
those names and faces
those far distant places
somewhere to be
someone to see
the world still asleep
a day is beginning
write in the quiet hour
poem by Matthew Holloway
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To The Head-Ach
THOU tyrant of the ling'ring hour!
Ah, why with me delight to rest?
Hence far away, tormenting pow'r
Unwelcome guest!
With thee, sad visitant! I prove
The long, the melancholy day;
Ah! foe to peace! from me remove,
Thy dreaded sway.
Oft when I'd court ideal themes,
'Tis then thy leaden wings o'erspread
That seat of wild, fantastic dreams,
My weary head.
And when in Fancy's fiery car,
With her and with the muse I'd fly;
To realms beyond the morning-star,
The earth and sky;
Not long in these illusions blest,
Through fairy-palaces I roam;
Thy wand recals, unwelcome guest!
My visions home.
Ah, foe to peace! When thou art nigh,
Farewell the dew-balm of repose;
Then slumber's fled—the languid eye
Forgets to close.
I ne'er my midnight vigils keep,
To ponder by the taper's light;
Nor waste in downy arms of sleep,
The morning bright.
'Tis mine to rove the hill, the dale,
To wander through embow'ring trees;
The soul of freshness to inhale,
The mountain-breeze.
Then, tyrant of the ling'ring hour,
Ah! why with me delight to rest?
Hence far away, tormenting pow'r,
Unwelcome guest!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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An Hour
If I never had you for a day
and only for an hour,
I could let it lengthen in my mind
and find in me the power
to remember each and every minute
as if time stood completely still.
Quiet, yet with a pounding of blood
not quiet, oh the thrill.
Time is of no consequence.
For the heart does not measure it.
It only recalls how it feels
which becomes an infinite.
So an hour becomes a lifetime
and a minute becomes forever.
And what then of a second?
That's the hollowness of never.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Love Is Calling Give Me A Chance
Love is calling give me a chance
Give me one more reluctant chance
Love is calling give me hope
Give me a minute an hour
Let me prove I can change
Give me a minute an hour
And I'll prove even a wilting bloom
Can live and fulfill a promise
Love is calling give me a chance
Give me one more reluctant chance
And I'll move heaven and earth
And turn all this flotsam and surf away
And switch on the sun
And turn this hellish feeling into
A kingdom of heaven you can depend upon
Love is calling give me a chance
Give me one more reluctant chance
And like a star I'll make your hear feel fusion
Give me one more reluctant chance
And I'll show you the real reluctant me
That was fearful to be just there
When you turned around for me
Love is calling give me a chance
Give me one more reluctant chance
For you and me!
For you and me!
For you and me!
For you and me!
For you and me!
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The Christian’s New Year Prayer
Thou Christ of mine, Thy gracious ear low bending
Through these glad New Year days,
To catch the countless prayers to heaven ascending –
For e’en hard hearts do raise
Some secret wish for fame, or gold, or power,
Or freedom from all care –
Dear, patient Christ, who listeneth hour on hour,
Hear now a Christian’s prayer.
Let this young year, silent, walks beside me,
Be as a means of grace
To lead me up, no matter what betide me,
Nearer the Master’s face.
If it need be ere I reach the Fountain
Where living waters play,
My feet should bleed from sharp stones on the mountain,
Then cast them in my way.
If my vain soul needs blows and bitter losses
To shape it for Thy crown,
Then bruise it, burn it, burden it with crosses,
With sorrows bear it down.
Do what Thou wilt to mould me to Thy pleasure,
And if I should complain,
Heap full of anguish yet another measure
Until I smile at pain.
Send dangers – deaths! but tell me how to dare them;
Enfold me in Thy care.
Send trials, tears! but give me strength to bear them –
This is a Christian’s prayer.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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A Song for New Year's Eve
Stay yet, my friends, a moment stay—
Stay till the good old year,
So long companion of our way,
Shakes hands, and leaves us here.
Oh stay, oh stay,
One little hour, and then away.
The year, whose hopes were high and strong,
Has now no hopes to wake;
Yet one hour more of jest and song
For his familiar sake.
Oh stay, oh stay,
One mirthful hour, and then away.
The kindly year, his liberal hands
Have lavished all his store.
And shall we turn from where he stands,
Because he gives no more?
Oh stay, oh stay,
One grateful hour, and then away.
Days brightly came and calmly went,
While yet he was our guest;
How cheerfully the week was spent!
How sweet the seventh day's rest!
Oh stay, oh stay,
One golden hour, and then away.
Dear friends were with us, some who sleep
Beneath the coffin-lid:
What pleasant memories we keep
Of all they said and did!
Oh stay, oh stay,
One tender hour, and then away.
Even while we sing, he smiles his last,
And leaves our sphere behind.
The good old year is with the past;
Oh be the new as kind!
Oh stay, oh stay,
One parting strain, and then away.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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A Song Of Riches
What will you give to a barefoot lass,
Morning with breath like wine?
Wade, bare feet! In my wide morass
Starry marigolds shine.
Alms, sweet Noon, for a barefoot lass,
With her laughing looks aglow!
Run, bare feet! In my fragrant grass
Golden buttercups blow.
Gift, a gift for a barefoot lass,
O twilight hour of dreams!
Rest, bare feet, by my lake of glass,
Where the mirrored sunset gleams.
Homeward the weary merchants pass,
With the gold bedimmed by care.
Little they wise that the barefoot lass
Is the only millionaire.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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The City (2)
Canst thou not rest, O city,
That liest so wide and fair;
Shall never an hour bring pity,
Nor end be found for care?
Thy walls are high in heaven,
Thy streets are gay and wide,
Beneath thy towers at even
The dreamy waters glide.
Thou art fair as the hills at morning,
And the sunshine loveth thee,
But its light is a gloom of warning
On a soul no longer free.
The curses of gold are about thee,
And thy sorrow deepeneth still;
One madness within and without thee,
One battle blind and shrill.
I see the crowds for ever
Go by with hurrying feet;
Through doors that darken never
I hear the engines beat.
Through days and nights that follow
The hidden mill-wheel strains;
In the midnight's windy hollow
I hear the roar of trains.
And still the day fulfilleth,
And still the night goes round,
And the guest-hall boometh and shrilleth,
With the dance's mocking sound.
In chambers of gold elysian,
The cymbals clash and clang,
But the days are gone like a vision
When the people wrought and sang.
And toil hath fear for neighbour,
Where singing lips are dumb,
And life is one long labour,
Till death or freedom come.
Ah! the crowds that for ever are flowing--
They neither laugh nor weep--
I see them coming and going,
Like things that move in sleep:
Grey sires and burdened brothers,
The old, the young, the fair,
Wan cheeks of pallid mothers,
And the girls with golden hair.
Care sits in many a fashion,
Grown grey on many a head,
And lips are turned to ashen
Whose years have right to red.
Canst thou not rest, O city,
That liest so wide, so fair;
Shalt never an hour bring pity,
Nor end be found for care?
poem by Archibald Lampman
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Peace
A man must earn his hour of peace,
Must pay for it with hours of strife and care,
Must win by toil the evening's sweet release,
The rest that may be portioned for his share;
The idler never knows it, never can.
Peace is the glory ever of a man.
A man must win contentment for his soul,
Must battle for it bravely day by day;
The peace he seeks is not a near-by goal;
To claim it he must tread a rugged way.
The shirker never knows a tranquil breast;
Peace but rewards the man who does his best.
poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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This Too Shall Pass
In the middle of the turbulence surrounding you
These trying times that are so hard to endure
In the middle of what seems to be your darkest hour
Hold fast your heart and be assured
This too shall pass
Like every night that's come before it
He'll never give you more than you can bear
This too shall pass
So in this thought be comforted
It's in His Hands
This too shall pass
The Father knows the tears you cry before they fall
He feels your pain, His heart and yours are one
The Father knows that sorrow's heavy chains are strong
But with His strength, you'll overcome
This too shall pass
Like every night that's come before it
He'll never give you more than you can bear
This too shall pass
So in this thought be comforted
It's in His Hands
This too shall pass
So set your eyes upon the mountain
And lift your hands up to the sky
And let His arms of love surround you
And take you to the other side
This too shall pass
Like every night that's come before it
He'll never give you more than you can bear
This too shall pass
So in this thought be comforted
It's in His Hands
This too shall pass
song performed by by Yolanda Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Too Shall Pass
In the middle of the turbulence surrounding you
These trying times that are so hard to endure
In the middle of what seems to be your darkest hour
Hold fast your heart and be assured
This too shall pass
Like every night that's come before it
He'll never give you more than you can bear
This too shall pass
So in this thought be comforted
It's in His Hands
This too shall pass
The Father knows the tears you cry before they fall
He feels your pain, His heart and yours are one
The Father knows that sorrow's heavy chains are strong
But with His strength, you'll overcome
This too shall pass
Like every night that's come before it
He'll never give you more than you can bear
This too shall pass
So in this thought be comforted
It's in His Hands
This too shall pass
So set your eyes upon the mountain
And lift your hands up to the sky
And let His arms of love surround you
And take you to the other side
This too shall pass
Like every night that's come before it
He'll never give you more than you can bear
This too shall pass
So in this thought be comforted
It's in His Hands
This too shall pass
song performed by by Yolanda Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why the silence?
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or the eyes may straggle and it's the hour of dreams
Or the mind may have been displaced and it's hour of reflections
Or the heart has been busy and it's hour of the groans
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or the words have got lost in the midst of ideas
Or silence now become the language of the times
Or the tongue tie with a sunset
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or now no need for my presence
Or now I am a hidden friend
Or now I am not who I was
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or... And the story continue silently
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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I Will Say This
I will say this.
'What?
What is it? '
Sssshhh...
As soon as the gossip is finished,
I'll pass along...
My added comments to it.
And as soon as they are finished,
I will give you my opinion.
But first be quiet,
To allow me to hear the rest of the dirt.
And I will say this,
To give it to you to hear...
Fresh from the horse's mouth.
How's that?
'I...uh...'
Sssshhh,
I can't listen to you and them too.
Be quiet.
Give me just a few more seconds.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Finest Hour
How does it feel out on the ice?
You speak to the crowd but nobody hears
It's not a dream and you are no prize
And you're not alone come in from the fear
Gonna take it back
Take back the life that you wanna lead
Been under quiet attack
But now it's time for you and me
Gonna take it back
You've got to fight for what you believe
We're gonna make this stand
The finest hour that we see
When did our choice become erased?
Where is the violence in this crowd?
Now that our voice has been replaced
with a silence that screams out loud
Gonna take it back
Take back the life that you wanna lead
Been under quiet attack
But now it's time for you and me
Gonna take it back
You've got to fight for what you believe
We're gonna make this stand
The finest hour that we see
Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh
Gonna take it back
Take back the life that you wanna lead
Been under quiet attack
But now it's time for you and me
Gonna take it back
You've got to fight for what you believe
We're gonna make this stand
The finest hour that we see
yeah... The finest hour that we see
We're gonna make this stand
The Finest Hour that we see
Yeah -eah - eah -eah -eah
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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