Music In The Bush
O'er the dark pines she sees the silver moon,
And in the west, all tremulous, a star;
And soothing sweet she hears the mellow tune
Of cow-bells jangled in the fields afar.
Quite listless, for her daily stent is done,
She stands, sad exile, at her rose-wreathed door,
And sends her love eternal with the sun
That goes to gild the land she'll see no more.
The grave, gaunt pines imprison her sad gaze,
All still the sky and darkling drearily;
She feels the chilly breath of dear, dead days
Come sifting through the alders eerily.
Oh, how the roses riot in their bloom!
The curtains stir as with an ancient pain;
Her old piano gleams from out the gloom
And waits and waits her tender touch in vain.
But now her hands like moonlight brush the keys
With velvet grace -- melodious delight;
And now a sad refrain from over seas
Goes sobbing on the bosom of the night;
And now she sings. (O! singer in the gloom,
Voicing a sorrow we can ne'er express,
Here in the Farness where we few have room
Unshamed to show our love and tenderness,
Our hearts will echo, till they beat no more,
That song of sadness and of motherland;
And, stretched in deathless love to England's shore,
Some day she'll hearken and she'll understand.)
A prima-donna in the shining past,
But now a mother growing old and gray,
She thinks of how she held a people fast
In thrall, and gleaned the triumphs of a day.
She sees a sea of faces like a dream;
She sees herself a queen of song once more;
She sees lips part in rapture, eyes agleam;
She sings as never once she sang before.
She sings a wild, sweet song that throbs with pain,
The added pain of life that transcends art --
A song of home, a deep, celestial strain,
The glorious swan-song of a dying heart.
A lame tramp comes along the railway track,
A grizzled dog whose day is nearly done;
He passes, pauses, then comes slowly back
And listens there -- an audience of one.
She sings -- her golden voice is passion-fraught,
As when she charmed a thousand eager ears;
He listens trembling, and she knows it not,
And down his hollow cheeks roll bitter tears.
She ceases and is still, as if to pray;
There is no sound, the stars are all alight --
Only a wretch who stumbles on his way,
Only a vagrant sobbing in the night.
poem by Robert William Service
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Related quotes
Sweet Music Man
Sing a song sweet music man
cause I wont be there to hold your hand like I used to
Im through with you
Youre a heck of a singer and powerful man
But you surround yourself with people
Who demand so little of you
You touched my soul with your beautiful song
You even had me singin along right with you
You said I need you
Then you changed the words and added harmony
Then you sang the song you had written for me to someone new
Oh, but nobody sings a love song quite like you do
Oh, and nobody else can make me sing along
Nobody else can make me feel things are right
When I know theyre wrong
Nobody sings a love song quite like you
Sing your song sweet music man
Travel the world with a six piece band
That does for you what you tell em to
And you try to stay young but the songs are sung
To so many people whove all begun came back on you
Sing your song sad music man
Makin your living doing one-night stands
Theyre through with you
They dont need you
Youre still a heck of a singer but a broken man
But youll keep on lookin for one last fan to sing to
Oh, and nobody sings a love song quite like you do
Oh, and nobody else can make me sing along
And nobody else can make me feel things are right
When theyre wrong with a song
Nobody sings a love song quite like you
Tag:
Sing your song sweet music man
I believe in you
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Music Man
I didn't listen, and I couldn't see,
And all I have left now,
Are words she gave to me
Sing me a song sweet music man,
'Cause I won't be there to hold your hand
Like I used to,
I'm through with you
You touched my soul with your beautiful song
You even had me singing along right with you
You said "I needed you"
But then you changed the words and that harmony
And you sang that song you'd written for me
To someone new
But nobody sings a love song quite like you do,
And nobody else can make me sing along,
And nobody else can make me feel
That things are right when they're wrong,
Nobody sings a love song quite like you.
Sing me a song sweet music man,
Your making a living doing one night stands
that do for you what you need them to
Your still a hell of a singer but a broken man
And you surround yourself with people who demand
So little of you
But nobody sings a love song quite like you do,
And nobody else can make me sing along,
And nobody else can make me feel,
That things are right when they're wrong
with a song,
Nobody sings a love song quite like you.
So sing me a song sad music man,
I believe in you
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Music Man
Sing your song sweet music man
Cuz I won't be there to hold your hand
Like I used to
I'm through with you
You're a hell of a singer and a powerful man
But you surround yourself with people who demand so little of you
You touched my -heart- (its suposed to be soul) with your beautiful song
You even had me singing along right with you
You said I need you
Then you changed the words and added harmony
And you sang the song you had written for to someone new
~Chorus~
Nobody sings a love song quite like you do
Nobody else can make me sing along
Nobody else can make me feel that things are right when I know they're wrong
Nobody sings a love song quite like you
~
Sing your song sweet music man
You travel the world with your six-piece band
That does for you
What you ask them to
You try to stay young but the songs you've sung to so many people
They've all begun to come back on you
Sing your song sad music man
Your making your living doin one night stands
They're through with you
They don't need you
You're still a hell of a singer but a broken man
But you'll keep searching for that one last fan
To sing to
~Chorus~
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Oarsman
Where is the coast?
Just in the boat
With no one around
He sings even a song!
In western horizon
The king 'Sun' sleeps alone
Merry clouds go brown
(So far) He sings the song!
A shower of rain
Can't let him pain
Miss.Windy starts to frown
(So far) He sings the song!
With force of angry waves
Even rocks can be damaged
How about his wooden bound?
(So far) He sings the song!
His old rudder shapes him solo
How to manage to and fro
Further rowing, no allowed
(So far) He sings the song!
Oh, my dear oarsman!
I wanna know your song
Give people to be strong
Like you, never down! !
poem by Eindaray Kyaw
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nightingale
(mccafferty, sweet, charlton, agnew)
1975 nazareth(dunfermline)ltd.
Sings a sad song for lonely women
Sings about women to lonely men
Sings a peace song to a soldier
Sings about loneliness to a friend
Shes a song, song singer
Let her music touch your heart
Shes a song singer from her heart
Sings a melody to haunt you
And some words to make you cry
If youre sad shell make you happy
When youre down shell take you high
Shes a song, song singer
Let her music touch your heart
Shes a song singer from her heart
Shes a song, song singer
Let her music touch your heart
Shes a song singer from her heart
Shes a song, song singer
Let her music touch your heart
Shes a song singer from her heart
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweetly Sings the Thrush
Sweetly sings the thrush
among the meadows fair.
All whose senses hear her
wish to wander there.
To be in tune with her fair voice
brings joy into your heart.
She sings of love for what she sees
of which you are a part.
Sweetly sings the thrush
before the night has come.
All the creatures of the day
are saddened when she's done.
To hear the silence of the night
you must wait for another ‘morrow.
For her song that permeates the air
to take away your sorrow.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Song One Sings In Old Age
The song one sings in old age
Is a quieter song-
It has more sadness in it,
And more remembrance.
It knows the greatest lyric of love
Will never be in it again.
The Ecstasy of he greatest passion is beyond it-
The song one sings in old age
Has a kind of Tenderness and Kindness in it
It loves nothing more than small and gentle dreams;
And grandchildren.
It goes along consoled
At hearing itself
And yet somehow different and lost-
For the song of old age
Has heard many songs
Which will be sung no more-
And in listening feels
It soon will be singing
Its last and saddest song.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Desparate Song
Mockingbirds are the only
birds to sing all the colors.
The most beautiful of them all
is the saddest, and she sings
her lonely song to him,
but he does not notice.
He does not realize that
they are the same.
He only has eyes
for the bluebird.
The very same bluebird
that has tortured the mockingbird
with her songs many times,
claiming to be his only love.
As the mockingbird sings
her sad songs, she is careful
not to sound like the bluebird.
She sings only to him,
only for him,
but he is the only one
that doesn't listen.
Everyone sees her beauty,
except for him.
They see her as a broken heart,
but he doesn't see her.
He doesn't notice whether
she's there or not.
He doesn't notice
the love in her eyes,
or the pain in her voice.
He only knows the bluebird,
and sees her alone
as the beauty of Life,
although he will never
know true beauty:
the beaury of the mockingbird,
or the love that she
would give to him.
poem by Zoe Guillory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When A Love Song Sings The Blues
I see you waiting in the shadows
Wonderin where Ive been
Dusty old piano, its you and me again
My old friend
Ill just have to chance a few lines
Now that were alone
All that happiness, those silly rhymes
They just dont seem at home now that hes gone
So make it sad, so sad
Like faded love or born to lose
Cause its sad when a love song sings the blues
I see my reflection on the black keys
Where the tears fell from my eyes
I wanna play out every memory
Every last goodbye
Till the whole world cries
So make it sad, so sad
Like faded love or born to lose
Cause its sad when a love song sings the blues
And I dont want to cry alone
Make it sad, so sad
Like faded love or born to lose
Cause its sad when a love song sings the blues
And its sad when a love song sings the blues
song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When A Love Song Sings The Blues
I see you waiting in the shadows
Wonderin where Ive been
Dusty old piano, its you and me again
My old friend
Ill just have to chance a few lines
Now that were alone
All that happiness, those silly rhymes
They just dont seem at home now that hes gone
So make it sad, so sad
Like faded love or born to lose
Cause its sad when a love song sings the blues
I see my reflection on the black keys
Where the tears fell from my eyes
I wanna play out every memory
Every last goodbye
Till the whole world cries
So make it sad, so sad
Like faded love or born to lose
Cause its sad when a love song sings the blues
And I dont want to cry alone
Make it sad, so sad
Like faded love or born to lose
Cause its sad when a love song sings the blues
And its sad when a love song sings the blues
song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Is that Sing in me!
All the time listen to that great singer,
The great song, great lyrics sung with great melody,
Someone sings in me and everyone,
' I am you and you are me,
Come and see, we are one! '
But how in this turbulent flow of life,
Is it true, everyone listen this?
Some say caged bird sings,
Some say it is song of soul,
Some say it has a song and it sings,
some try to listen it, some say, when I have my own song how can I listen it?
Fantastic song it is, it the song of the divine,
Song of a dreamer, song of the captain of life,
some listen to it and forget what they are,
Some listen to it and follow the singer,
Some only try to find,
who is the singer,
Only a few can see the singer,
Look at the singer, listen the song,
Where one will be when absorbed by that divine song,
The song that enchanted me
The song that enchant everyone,
It is the God that sings,
' Ah, come to me,
Oh my child, wakeup from dream,
In this dream you are playing,
You are thinking, that you play at things,
wakeup and see, it is I am that playing!
Your sorrows are mine,
My sorrows are yours,
your body is not that cage,
It is my own temple, where I am playing my
own game! '
'Where you want to go,
You are not caged anytime
You only restricted yourself
Building a cage, you yourself sat inside
Then closed the door of cage
And that is the foolishness separated us'
'Oh dear child open the door at least that of window
of heart!
You went on sail, setting your own map,
But lured by various destinations,
One better than another, lost the plan and map,
Wonder and wander
here and there for
millions of years,
But had you listened my eternal song,
That has all maps and information,
You would have been with me as per the schedule
Only your own fall to attraction,
You lost your bag and baggage,
Whenever you lost that, you acquired new one,
But none of the bag had no map,
This time you are with the right one,
Right map, Radio, T.V., intranet and internet,
Just turn to me tuning to my station
Switching to my protocol and IP address,
Click at the linK
You feel, all fall and pain,
you find medicine outside
your ego,
Just cleanse It with tears of love,
Just apply cream of faith, go to work with head phones on in your ears,
Go to work which bring peace! '
'Where you are always free,
Don't kill my spirit, only come and sing with me,
My eternal song, come with me,
Oh my child, I am you and you are me,
Let us be one and sing, we are one in love,
We are always were not different,
We make our voice strong and loud so that,
Captains of missing ships can listen us,
Be my relay station helping my song to reach all! '
This is that song,
that eternal song,
sung by Almighty
in every heart!
The heart is chorus,
Is that source
Where He built
His temple and not a
cage to keep singing bird
in captivity or exile!
I am that his son now realised
I am that foolish
ungrateful son
put that infinite
eternal well wisher,
Melodious singer
My own father
Behind the bars!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Evensong
It is late, on a cold, dark, wintry afternoon;
Up high in a tree, a small bird merrily croons.
Trade in the town, has now begun to wind down,
And taking centre stage, is the bird’s sweet sound.
Like an operatic singer, his voice soars high,
And his song delights many, as they pass by.
Your ears can not help, but hear his loud call,
As the sun, once again, sets and darkness falls.
He sings for joy, at the very top of his voice;
To listen to his song, you have little choice.
He sits at the very top of the tallest tree,
Singing so loudly; his heart full of glee.
His plaintive call pierces the cool air,
As he sings his song, without a care.
A pure quality, his sweet song holds,
And he sings it out, so bright and bold.
His singsong attracts many a nice comment;
His performance appears to be Heaven sent.
Of his captivated audience, he is unaware;
His song boasts beauty, beyond compare.
Like a church choir, as they sing evensong,
This small bird sings so very keen and strong.
Through the dark streets, home, I wearily wind;
Sad to be leaving the bird’s sweet song behind.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Suicide Moon
Golden curls rest on her pillow
Tom Toad gets a kiss on the nose
Mother’s curls are kept away
With satin bows that glow
Mother sings her a bedtime song
A sweet and soothing tune
With crescent eyes she gazes up
She sees the suicide moon
Suicide moon is violet velvet
His skin, a shriveled prune
Her skin begins to mirror his
She feels the suicide moon
Mother starts towards the door
Leaves a whiff of her perfume
She screams for Mother’s comfort
But silence floods the room
Suicide moon adores her
Suicide moon does grin
He taps upon her window
But she’ll never let him in
poem by Carolyn Michael
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Song Without End
Love sings a song,
a song without end.
It can be heard
singing out from everything.
When love sings its song,
a song without end.
Young and old hearts flutter
whenever they hear its call.
The sad and the lonely
under its spell fall.
When love sings its song,
a song without end.
Whose chorus can be heard
as the breeze whispers
among the trees
and all hearts fall
under loves rhapsody.
25 August 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Lullaby
The stars are twinkling in the skies,
The earth is lost in slumbers deep;
So hush, my sweet, and close thine eyes,
And let me lull thy soul to sleep.
Compose thy dimpled hands to rest,
And like a little birdling lie
Secure within thy cozy nest
Upon my loving mother breast,
And slumber to my lullaby,
So hushaby--O hushaby.
The moon is singing to a star
The little song I sing to you;
The father sun has strayed afar,
As baby's sire is straying too.
And so the loving mother moon
Sings to the little star on high;
And as she sings, her gentle tune
Is borne to me, and thus I croon
For thee, my sweet, that lullaby
Of hushaby--O hushaby.
There is a little one asleep
That does not hear his mother's song;
But angel watchers--as I weep--
Surround his grave the night-tide long.
And as I sing, my sweet, to you,
Oh, would the lullaby I sing--
The same sweet lullaby he knew
While slumb'ring on this bosom too--
Were borne to him on angel's wing!
So hushaby--O hushaby.
poem by Eugene Field
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Loves lament
Loves Lament.
The dragon sings his mating song
and voices his sad loneliness.
To be alone he feels is wrong
he seeks a mate a dragoness.
He sings it from the mountain peaks.
A song of love and tenderness
He lets the world know that he seeks
to find a mate a dragoness.
But female dragons are so rare
his hopes of happiness are few.
His lament fills the upper air
there’s nothing else that he can do.
He sings his love song every night
when day is done and twilight falls.
He hopes one day that he just might
receive an answer to his calls.
He sings his plaintive melody
resounding clearly everywhere
and always listens carefully.
He’s sure that there must be somewhere.
A dragoness who’s lonely too.
One fine night he hears a voice
an answer that’s long overdue.
His heart aflame he must rejoice.
A dragoness has heard his call
and from afar she quickly flew
. She lands upon his eyrie wall.
says” I am Flame but who are you”
He bows to her and he replies
“ My name is Star I live alone.
Your coming took me by surprise
The greatest gift that I have known”
She says that she too seeks a mate.
His love call lifted her despair.
Perchance it’s time to celebrate.
She thinks they’ll make a lovely pair.
He then proposes formally
for Dragons are a polite race
and she accepts him readily
and couches her reply in grace.
But still each night the dragon sings
of how he loves his dragoness.
Enfolds her safely in his wings
and treats her with great tenderness.
You may not think my tale is true.
For fools say dragons don’t exist
I can assure you that they do.
That’s why the legends still persist.
Although they may be far and few.
If you are lucky you may see
a pair of dragons: If you do
then just enjoy it quietly.
There is no need to brag and boast.
you will be labelled as insane.
But you are luckier than most
to see the dragons fly again.
Oct 05
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Faith
When the soft sweet wind o' the south went by,
I dwelt in the light of a dark brown eye;
And out where the robin sang his song,
We lived and loved, while the days were long.
In the sweet, sweet eves, when the moon swung high,
We wandered under the starry sky;
Or sat in the porch, and the moon looked through
The latticed wall where the roses grew.
My lips, that hd no lover's kiss,
You taught the art, till they trilled in bliss;
And the moon, and the stars, and the roses knew
That the heart you won was pure and true.
But true hearts weary men, maybe,
For you grew weary of love, and me.
Over the porch the dead vines hang,
And a mourning dove sobs where the robin sang.
In a warmer clime does another sigh
Under the light of your dark brown eye?
Did you follow the soft sweet wing o' the south,
And are you kissing a redder mouth?
Lips may be redder, and eyes more bright;
The face may be fairer you see to-night;
But never, love, while the stars shall shine,
Will you find a heart that is truer than mine.
Sometime, perhaps, when south winds blow,
You will think of a love you used to know;
Sometime, perhaps, when a robin sings,
Your heart will go back to olden things.
Sometime you will weary of this world's arts,
Of deceit and change and hollow hearts,
And, wearying, sigh for the 'used to be, '
And your feet will turn to the porch, and me.
I shall watch for you here when days grow long;
I shall list for your step through the robin's song;
I shall sit in the porch where the moon looks through,
And a vacant chair will wait - for you.
You may stray, and forget, and rove afar,
But my changeless love, like the polar star,
Will draw you at length o'er land and sea -
And I know you will yet come back to me.
The years may come, and the years may go,
But sometime again, when south winds blow,
When roses bloom, and the moon swings high,
I shall live in he light of your dark brown eye.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The City Sings the Song of Death
The City sings the song of Death
Death that roams in the streets
Fearless and merciless, its hands smeared with blood
Its clothes drenched, its desire insatiable
It yearns for more bodies, for more and more
And yet more
The City sings the song of Death
A song whose tragic pitch would scare of birds
Were they to listen to its harrowing cadence
A song that makes babies cry and disturbs the old
A song that is sung by every one who lives in the city of Death
In fear, in pain, in terror
For Death itself has come to life
For Death itself, unchained and unchecked, roams around freely
Who shall now question Death?
The City sings the song of Death
My City sings the song of Death
I too sing the song of Death
And so do the millions that live with me
In the City of Death
poem by Abdul Samad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Every Rose Has Its Thorn
[Originally by Poison]
We both lie silently still in the dead of the night
Although we both lie close together
We feel miles apart inside
Was it somethin' I said or somethin' I did
Did my words not come out right
Tho' I tried not to hurt you
Tho' I tried
But I guess that's why they say
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
Yea it does
I listen to your favorite song playin' on the radio
Hear the DJ say love's a game of
Easy come and easy go
But I wonder does he know
Has it ever felt like this
And I know that you'd be here right now
If I could have let you know somehow I guess
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
Though it's been a while now
I can still feel so much pain
Like the knife that cuts you
The wound heals, but the scar, that scar remains
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
So I hear you've found somebody new
And that I never meant that much to you
To hear that tears me up inside
And to see you cuts me like a knife, I guess
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
song performed by by Unseen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gold and Love for Dearie
Out on the mountain over the town,
All night long, all night long,
The trolls go up and the trolls go down,
Bearing their packs and singing a song;
And this is the song the hill-folk croon,
As they trudge in the light of the misty moon--
This is ever their dolorous tune:
'Gold, gold! ever more gold--
Bright red gold for dearie!'
Deep in the hill a father delves
All night long, all night long;
None but the peering, furtive elves
Sees his toil and hears his song;
Merrily ever the cavern rings
As merrily ever his pick he swings,
And merrily ever this song he sings:
'Gold, gold! ever more gold--
Bright red gold for dearie!'
Mother is rocking thy lowly bed
All night long, all night long,
Happy to smooth thy curly head,
To hold thy hand and to sing her song:
'T is not of the hill-folk dwarfed and old,
Nor the song of thy father, stanch and bold,
And the burthen it beareth is not of gold:
But it 's 'Love, love! nothing but love--
Mother's love for dearie!'
poem by Eugene Field
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