Six Feet Of Sod
This is the end of all my ways,
My wanderings on earth,
My gloomy and my golden days,
My madness and my mirth.
I've bought ten thousand blades of grass
To bed me down below,
And here I wait the days to pass
Until I go.
Until I bid good bye to friend,
To feast and fast goodbye,
And in a stint of soil the end
I seek of sun and sky.
My farings far on land and sea,
My trails of global girth
Sum up to this,--to cover me
Six feet of earth.
My home of homes I hold in fee
For centuries to pass,
When snug my skeleton will be
And grin up through the grass;
When my grey ghost will bend above,
And grieve to gracious God
This endless end of life and love,--
Six feet of sod.
poem by Robert William Service
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Related quotes
Leaves Of Grass
The leaves of grass will not pass on
Though the millstones grind them into dust
For the earth shall give life to them
But only the grass will grow once more
And the brave must fall to honor the names
Of the ones who have gone before
And the earth shall give new life to them
But only the grass will grow once more
If people could look into each others eyes
What a wonderful place this world would be
All strife would end, we could start again
And dreams like these must not pass on
But the brave keep falling to honor the names
Of the ones who have gone before
And the earth shall give new life to them
But only the grass will grow once more
And the brave keep falling to honor the names
Of the ones who have gone before
And the earth shall give new life to them
But only the grass will grow once more
The leaves of grass will not pass on
Though the millstones grind them into dust
For the earth shall give new life to them
But only the grass will grow once more
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cheyenne Anthem
From the mountains to the sun, Life has only just begun.
We wed this land and pledge our souls to meet its end,
Life has only just begun
Here my people roam the earth, in the kingdom of our birth,
Where the dust of all our horses hides the sun
We are mighty on the earth, on the earth
You have come to move me, take me from my ancient home,
Land of my fathers I can't leave you now
We will share it with you, no man owns this earth we're on
Now the wheels are rolling hear the howling winds of war
It's my destiny to fight and die
Is there no solution, can we find no other way, Lord let me stay
Under the endless sky and the earth below
Here I was born to live and I will never go, oh no
But we cannot endure like the earth and the mountains
Life is not ours to keep, for a new sun is rising
Soon these days shall pass away, for our freedom we must pay
All our words and deeds are carried on the wind,
In the ground our bodies lay, here we lay
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jealous Clouds
The dew of love settles on the blades of grass
In the marshes, the green frogs sleep
While the crickets play their wings like violins
For the hearts of geese to move their feet
And the water streams in content
While the clouds look down on earth
In jealousy clouds want to play
With and on earth's beauty..
They desire the touch of love by the sharp blades of grass
They want to feel the warmth of the frogs sleepy feet on their laps
And listen to the music of the cricket's wings
while they chase the running geese
Jealous clouds want to drink and splash in the azure streams of content
And on earth live in mirth, with the rest of nature's creatures!
O the Jealous Clouds—They can't stuck in heaven they are!
In jealousy they turn gray with sadness and weep
And hide the sun when mad at earth and its light they keep
The jealous clouds roar in thunder to scare our hearts
And tempt us with their purity, dressed in white, soft raiment
The jealous clouds piqued turn vermillion and blush
In admiration of our jealous dreamy eyes…
O jealous clouds how are you jealous of we?
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Parting From Wang Wei
Quiet end what wait
Day day must go return
Wish seek fragrant grass go
Grieve with old friend separated
On road who mutual help
Understanding friend life this scarce
Only should observe solitude
Again close native area door
Quietly, I've waited here so long,
Day after day; but now I must return.
Now I go to seek the fragrant grass,
But I grieve to part from my old friend.
Who is there who would help me on the road?
Understanding friends are few in life.
I should just observe my solitude,
And close again the gate of my old home.
poem by Meng Haoran
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The Old Road
THE ROAD is left that once was trod
By man and heavy-laden beast;
And new ways opened, iron-shod,
That bind the land from west to east.
I asked of Him who all things knows
Why none who lived now passed that way:
Where rose the dust the grass now grows?
A still, low voice was heard to say,—
“Thou knowest not why I change the course
Of him who travels: learn to go,
Obey the Spirit’s gentle force,
Nor ask thou where the stream may flow.
“Man shall not walk in his own ways,
For he is blind and cannot see;
But let him trust, and lengthened days
Shall lead his feet to heaven and Me.
Then shall the grass the path grow o’er,
That his own wilfulness has trod;
And man nor beast shall pass it more,
But he shall walk with Me, his God.”
poem by Jones Very
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Hour-Glass And Bible
Look, Christian, on thy Bible, and that glass
That sheds its sand through minutes, hours, and days,
And years; it speaks not, yet, methinks, it says,
To every human heart: so mortals pass
On to their dark and silent grave! Alas
For man! an exile upon earth he strays,
Weary, and wandering through benighted ways;
To-day in strength, to-morrow like the grass
That withers at his feet!--Lift up thy head,
Poor pilgrim, toiling in this vale of tears;
That book declares whose blood for thee was shed,
Who died to give thee life; and though thy years
Pass like a shade, pointing to thy death-bed,
Out of the deep thy cry an angel hears,
And by his guiding hand thy steps to heaven are led!
poem by William Lisle Bowles
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To The Cuckoo
O BLITHE New-comer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice.
O Cuckoo! Shall I call thee Bird,
Or but a wandering Voice?
While I am lying on the grass
Thy twofold shout I hear,
From hill to hill it seems to pass,
At once far off, and near.
Though babbling only to the Vale,
Of Sunshine and of flowers,
Thou bringest unto me a tale
Of visionary hours.
Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!
Even yet thou art to me
No bird, but an invisible thing,
A voice, a mystery;
The same whom in my school-boy days
I listened to; that Cry
Which made me look a thousand ways
In bush, and tree, and sky.
To seek thee did I often rove
Through woods and on the green;
And thou wert still a hope, a love;
Still longed for, never seen.
And I can listen to thee yet;
Can lie upon the plain
And listen, till I do beget
That golden time again.
O blessed Bird! the earth we pace
Again appears to be
An unsubstantial, faery place;
That is fit home for Thee!
poem by William Wordsworth
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Moorland Night
My face is against the grass - the moorland grass is wet -
My eyes are shut against the grass, against my lips there are the little blades,
Over my head the curlews call, And now there is the night wind in my hair;
My heart is against the grass and the sweet earth, - it has gone still, at last;
It does not want to beat any more,
And why should it beat?
This is the end of the journey.
The Thing is found.
This is the end of all the roads -
Over the grass there is the night-dew
And the wind that drives up from the sea along the moorland road,
I hear a curlew start out from the heath
And fly off calling through the dusk,
The wild, long, rippling call -:
The Thing is found and I am quiet with the earth;
Perhaps the earth will hold it or the wind, or that bird's cry,
But it is not for long in any life I know. This cannot stay,
Not now, not yet, not in a dying world, with me, for very long;
I leave it here:
And one day the wet grass may give it back -
One day the quiet earth may give it back -
The calling birds may give it back as they go by -
To someone walking on the moor who starves for love and will not know
Who gave it to all these to give away;
Or, if I come and ask for it again
Oh! then, to me.
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
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My Will
I've made my Will. I don't believe
In luxury and wealth;
And to those loving ones who grieve
My age and frailing health
I give the meed to soothe their ways
That they may happy be,
And pass serenely all their days
In snug security.
That duty done, I leave behind
The all I have to give
To crippled children and the blind
Who lamentably live;
Hoping my withered hand may freight
To happiness a few
Poor innocents whom cruel fate
Has cheated of their due.
A am no grey philanthropist,
Too humble is my lot
Yet how I'm glad to give the grist
My singing mill has brought.
For I have had such lyric days,
So rich, so full, so sweet,
That I with gratitude and praise
Would make my life complete.
I'VE MADE MY WILL: now near the end,
At peace with all mankind,
To children lame I would be friend,
And brother to the blind . . .
And if there be a God, I pray
He bless my last bequest,
And in His love and pity say:
"Good servant,--rest!"
poem by Robert William Service
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The Story Of OVO
(Only available on some editions)
A long time ago, in a far away land
Theo was the man who learned to understand
The riches of the earth
And all that it was worth
The first man that ever tried to stand with his own plan
Now this man was all about the wind rain and trees
He knew that it would take care of all of his families
Now Ion was the son who spent his nights and days
Looking for all kinds of ways to get his father's praise
In all daddy's ways he just wanted to impress
Make it faster, stronger is what he tried to stress
Sofia was the girl
Living in her own world
She found love and joy with a young sky boy
Sky boys were seen as less to the rest
So it would seem
Sofia went into the woods to daydream
With love in her eyes
Her own father would despise
Her love for the young sky boy he would destroy
Feet in the earth
Heads in the sky
We watch the world go by
Feet in the earth
Heads in the sky
We watch as life goes by
When Theo was gone, his son Ion took the power
And in his daddy's name, he built the biggest strongest tower
The earth people and sky people divided by machines
And the ones who had nothing were the ones who had the wings
The sky boy just wanted everything to be equal
From full-time lover to now fighting for his people
Now Beth was the mom
Who really loved to weave
She couldn't believe her own son would decieve
The sky people got hungry and their welfare was ignored
She let them in the tower and the bloody battle roared
Down came iron and the tower fell as well
The dark days were over and the sky people's hell
Feet in the earth
Heads in the sky
We watch the world go by
Feet in the
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scythe Song
MOWERS, weary and brown, and blithe,
What is the word methinks ye know,
Endless over-word that the Scythe
Sings to the blades of the grass below?
Scythes that swing in the grass and clover,
Something, still, they say as they pass;
What is the word that, over and over,
Sings the Scythe to the flowers and grass?
Hush, ah hush, the Scythes are saying,
Hush, and heed not, and fall asleep;
Hush, they say to the grasses swaying;
Hush, they sing to the clover deep!
Hush—’t is the lullaby Time is singing—
Hush, and heed not, for all things pass;
Hush, ah hush! and the Scythes are swinging
Over the clover, over the grass!
poem by Andrew Lang
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The Fool and the Fire
A fool and a bag in a belt of scrub,
Cloudless skies and the still hot days,
And the countryside's in a mad hubbub;
Terror is here and the world's ablaze.
Five thousand sheep went West today,
Bell's home at the crossing and Casey's pub;
And the cause of it all is a world away;
A fool with a bag who passed the scrub.
An oaf with a match in a mile of grass,
Where yesterday the skies shone clear;
But fury leapt where he came to pass;
And now, ten miles away, comes fear.
Men toil and sweat in the reeking smoke
That curling drifts to a sky of brass.
And now black ruin and homeless folk
Are toll to an oaf in a mile of grass.
If the fool be caught can the fool repay?
What is to do but build again,
And hope for the dawn of a better day,
When folly is shorn from the ways of men;
What is to do but hope and pray.
While the scars heal slow in a blackened land,
That the fool shall no more pass this way
With the seeds of terror in his hand.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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George Jones Reflects
It's up an' down, as me father said,
An' his as went before him
Good days could never turn his head
Nor the worst of seasons floor him.
(Said old george Jones). I've heard him say
Full many a time an' often,
'The man who knows no evil day
Ain't toughened so he can out-stay
Good times, in which men soften.'
See-saw. 'Tis the older law
That's ruled the world since Adam.
If men ain't sipped the bitter cup,
How can the good days cheer 'em up?
They never know they had 'em.
So, by-an'-large, I'm sorter glad
I've had a chance to share 'em
These long, lean years we've lately had.
Now good years come we've got the bad
With which we can compare 'em.
I've heard men say the land is done
Because the hard times fool 'em.
Poor simple loons, they ain't begun
To know the laws wot rule 'em.
'Men ain't learned yet to live on air,'
I've hard my ole dad chuckle.
'Stick to the land. All wealth lies where
Earth bids all men to seek it, e'er
When life gets near the knuckle.'
See-saw. 'Tis the olden law;
An' laws help them as learned 'em.
An' us ole stagers wot held fast
To earth, now clear days down at last,
Why, praise the Lord, we've earned 'em.
Hard earned (said old George Jones) most ways
High prized. New loads is lighter,
Us, who held fast can well spare praise,
Aye, even for then strengthenin' days
That makes these good days brighter.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Summer Dawn.
Come with thy feet to the water, and bathe
Thy beauty here in the stream that will not pass!
The soft green leaves with their shadows swathe
The either bank, and under the ferns and grass
The dreamy crickets chirp in the dewy dawn,
Now that the light of the stars has grown
Into a thin pale mist in the night unknown;
The small birds twitter, whose senses quite
Have not yet out of their dreams withdrawn —
Here where my heart too waits for the light
Under the cloudy hills that soon will run
With bright feet in the ways of the sun,
As if they were but chained to the air:
Come to me now so fresh and fair —
Now that the reign of Sleep is done —
With twinkling feet in the dewy dawn!
O love, as grass comes to the lawn,
As day comes to the East, come thou —
Come to me now!
poem by Robert Crawford
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The Bourne
Underneath the growing grass,
Underneath the living flowers,
Deeper than the sound of showers:
There we shall not count the hours
By the shadows as they pass.
Youth and health will be but vain,
Beauty reckoned of no worth:
There a very little girth
Can hold round what once the earth
Seemed too narrow to contain.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Under My Feet
Its a hard life
Never let yourself get down
You may never get back
You may never ever turn it round
You may say it took you by surprise
Never ending
Never changing
I didnt see through your disguise
It took my breath away
Under my feet
The earth shook
Under my feet
The earth just fell away
Under my feet
Gave way
Did you ever want to take a chance
Never thought the time would come round
Quite so fast
Would you walk right thro that wall
And keep on walking till you
Couldnt stand on your feet no more
But you came and took me by surprise
When you stole up on me
I didnt see thro your disguise
It took my breath away
Under my feet
The earth shook
Under my feet
The earth just fell away
Under my feet - gave way
Where were you
When I needed you
Where were you
When I needed you
Where were you
Where were you - Im holding on
Under my feet
The earth shook
Under my feet
The earth just fell away
Under my feet - gave way
Under my feet
The earth shook
Right under my feet
Gave way
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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S3
let the days pass
let all the dreams ask
why are we still unfulfilled?
when will we become true?
let the days pass
let the mind be as busy as a marketplace
let the haggling be haggling
bargain bargain, compromises
let the days pass
let the hair on my head be all white
let the days eat me whole
and let me fade like a ghost
let there be none of me again
i have had enough
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Error And Loss
Upon an eve I sat me down and wept,
Because the world to me seemed nowise good;
Still autumn was it, & the meadows slept,
The misty hills dreamed, and the silent wood
Seemed listening to the sorrow of my mood:
I knew not if the earth with me did grieve,
Or if it mocked my grief that bitter eve.
Then ’twixt my tears a maiden did I see,
Who drew anigh me on the leaf-strewn grass,
Then stood and gazed upon me pitifully
With grief-worn eyes, until my woe did pass
From me to her, and tearless now I was,
And she mid tears was asking me of one
She long had sought unaided and alone.
I knew not of him, and she turned away
Into the dark wood, and my own great pain
Still held me there, till dark had slain the day,
And perished at the grey dawn’s hand again;
Then from the wood a voice cried: “Ah, in vain,
In vain I seek thee, O thou bitter-sweet!
In what lone land are set thy longed-for feet?”
Then I looked up, and lo, a man there came
From midst the trees, and stood regarding me
Until my tears were dried for very shame;
Then he cried out: “O mourner, where is she
Whom I have sought o’er every land and sea?
I love her and she loveth me, and still
We meet no more than green hill meeteth hill.”
With that he passed on sadly, and I knew
That these had met and missed in the dark night,
Blinded by blindness of the world untrue,
That hideth love and maketh wrong of right.
Then midst my pity for their lost delight,
Yet more with barren longing I grew weak,
Yet more I mourned that I had none to seek.
poem by William Morris
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A Dead March
PLAY me a march, low-ton’d and slow—a march for a silent tread,
Fit for the wandering feet of one who dreams of the silent dead,
Lonely, between the bones below and the souls that are overhead.
Here for a while they smil’d and sang, alive in the interspace,
Here with the grass beneath the foot, and the stars above the face,
Now are their feet beneath the grass, and whither has flown their grace?
Who shall assure us whence they come, or tell us the way they go?
Verily, life with them was joy, and, now they have left us, woe,
Once they were not, and now they are not, and this is the sum we know.
Orderly range the seasons due, and orderly roll the stars.
How shall we deem the soldier brave who frets of his wounds and scars?
Are we as senseless brutes that we should dash at the well-seen bars?
No, we are here, with feet unfix’d, but ever as if with lead
Drawn from the orbs which shine above to the orb on which we tread,
Down to the dust from which we came and with which we shall mingle dead.
No, we are here to wait, and work, and strain our banish’d eyes,
Weary and sick of soil and toil, and hungry and fain for skies
Far from the reach of wingless men, and not to be scal’d with cries.
No, we are here to bend our necks to the yoke of tyrant Time,
Welcoming all the gifts he gives us—glories of youth and prime,
Patiently watching them all depart as our heads grow white as rime.
Why do we mourn the days that go—for the same sun shines each day,
Ever a spring her primrose hath, and ever a May her may;
Sweet as the rose that died last year is the rose that is born to-day.
Do we not too return, we men, as ever the round earth whirls?
Never a head is dimm’d with gray but another is sunn’d with curls;
She was a girl and he was a boy, but yet there are boys and girls.
Ah, but alas for the smile of smiles that never but one face wore;
Ah, for the voice that has flown away like a bird to an unseen shore;
Ah, for the face—the flower of flowers—that blossoms on earth no more.
poem by William Cosmo Monkhouse
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Beyond The Bend
(words & music by weisman - wise -/ fuller)
Breeze sing a happy song
This heart of mine is singing right along
Dont know where Im going
Dont know where it ends
Till the grass is greener, beyond the bend
I havent got a care
Im just on my way to anywhere
Pocketful of nothing, nothing I can spend
Hope the grass is greener, beyond the bend
Beyond the bend,
Perhaps therell be somebody waiting whos right for me
So I got to move around
And I know Ive got to cover ground
Oh the trip is shorter when you got a friend
Gotta find that rainbow beyond the bend
Beyond the bend, beyond the bend
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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