The End Of The Trail
Life, you've been mighty good to me,
Yet here's the end of the trail;
No more mountain, moor and sea,
No more saddle and sail.
Waves a-leap in the laughing sun
Call to me as of yore. . . .
Alas! my errant days are done:
I'll rove no more, no more.
Life, you've cheered me all the way;
You've been my bosom friend;
But gayest dog will have his day,
And biggest binge must end.
Shorebound I watch and see afar
A wistful isle grow wan,
While over is a last lone star
Dims out in lilac dawn.
Life, you've been wonderful to me,
But fleetest foot must fail;
The hour must come when all will see
The last lap of the trail.
Yet holding in my heart a hymn
Of praise for gladness gone,
Serene I wait my star to dim
In the glow of the Greater Dawn.
poem by Robert William Service
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Related quotes
Wistful Rendezvous Won't Do
To pray and wait for wonderful days,
In a wistful rendezvous won't do.
Not when I'm holding onto wonder...
With less time to spare.
Impatient,
I agree I am.
That I am.
I want more in my life,
Than daydreams to mingle.
To leave me single with needs.
I am not one to plead, beg or borrow.
Tomorrow was yesterday for me.
Today I will make my life free...
Of empty dreams!
I am here to explore all there is.
And all there is of me.
To pray and wait for wonderful days,
In a wistful rendezvous won't do.
Not when I'm holding onto wonder...
With less time to spare.
In my mind I can climb any mountain high.
And if I choose to fly above the clouds...
I will!
Impatient,
I agree I am.
That I am.
But wistful rendezvous,
I refuse!
And will not do.
Even 'if'...
You chose me to do it,
For you!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Trail Of No Return
So now I take a bitter road
Whereon no bourne I see,
And wearily I lift the load
That once I bore with glee.
For me no more by sea or shore
Adventure's star shall burn,
As I forsake wild ways to take
The Trail of No Return.
Such paths of peril I have trod:
In sun and shade they lay.
And some went wistfully to God,
And some the devil's way.
But there is one I may not shun,
Though long my life's sojourn:
A dawn will break when I must take
The Trail of No Return.
Farewell to friends, good-bye to foes,
Adieu to smile or frown;
My voyaging is nigh its close,
And dark is drifting down.
With weary feet my way I beat,
Yet holy light discern . . .
So let me take without heart-break
The Trail of No Return.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Lone Trail
Ye who know the Lone Trail fain would follow it,
Though it lead to glory or the darkness of the pit.
Ye who take the Lone Trail, bid your love good-by;
The Lone Trail, the Lone Trail follow till you die.
The trails of the world be countless, and most of the trails be tried;
You tread on the heels of the many, till you come where the ways divide;
And one lies safe in the sunlight, and the other is dreary and wan,
Yet you look aslant at the Lone Trail, and the Lone Trail lures you on.
And somehow you're sick of the highway, with its noise and its easy needs,
And you seek the risk of the by-way, and you reck not where it leads.
And sometimes it leads to the desert, and the togue swells out of the mouth,
And you stagger blind to the mirage, to die in the mocking drouth.
And sometimes it leads to the mountain, to the light of the lone camp-fire,
And you gnaw your belt in the anguish of hunger-goded desire.
And sometimes it leads to the Southland, to the swamp where the orchid glows,
And you rave to your grave with the fever, and they rob the corpse for its clothes.
And sometimes it leads to the Northland, and the scurvy softens your bones,
And your flesh dints in like putty, and you spit out your teeth like stones.
And sometimes it leads to a coral reef in the wash of a weedy sea,
And you sit and stare at the empty glare where the gulls wait greedily.
And sometimes it leads to an Arctic trail, and the snows where your torn feet freeze,
And you whittle away the useless clay, and crawl on your hands and knees.
Often it leads to the dead-pit; always it leads to pain;
By the bones of your brothers ye know it, but oh, to follow you're fain.
By your bones they will follow behind you, till the ways of the world are made plain.
Bid good-by to sweetheart, bid good-by to friend;
The Lone Trail, the Lone Trail follow to the end.
Tarry not, and fear not, chosen of the true;
Lover of the Lone Trail, the Lone Trail waits for you.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Land Of Beyond
Have ever you heard of the Land of Beyond,
That dreams at the gates of the day?
Alluring it lies at the skirts of the skies,
And ever so far away;
Alluring it calls: O ye the yoke galls,
And ye of the trail overfond,
With saddle and pack, by paddle and track,
Let's go to the Land of Beyond!
Have ever you stood where the silences brood,
And vast the horizons begin,
At the dawn of the day to behold far away
The goal you would strive for and win?
Yet ah! in the night when you gain to the height,
With the vast pool of heaven star-spawned,
Afar and agleam, like a valley of dream,
Still mocks you a Land of Beyond.
Thank God! there is always a Land of Beyond
For us who are true to the trail;
A vision to seek, a beckoning peak,
A farness that never will fail;
A pride in our soul that mocks at a goal,
A manhood that irks at a bond,
And try how we will, unattainable still,
Behold it, our Land of Beyond!
poem by Robert William Service
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The Rover
Oh, how good it is to be
Foot-loose and heart-free!
Just my dog and pipe and I, underneath the vast sky;
Trail to try and goal to win, white road and cool inn;
Fields to lure a lad afar, clear spring and still star;
Lilting feet that never tire, green dingle, fagot fire;
None to hurry, none to hold, heather hill and hushed fold;
Nature like a picture book, laughing leaf and bright brook;
Every day a jewel bright, set serenely in the night;
Every night a holy shrine, radiant for a day divine.
Weathered cheek and kindly eye, let the wanderer go by.
Woman-love and wistful heart, let the gipsy one depart.
For the farness and the road are his glory and his goad.
Oh, the lilt of youth and Spring! Eyes laugh and lips sing.
Yea, but it is good to be
Foot-loose and heart-free!
II
Yet how good it is to come
Home at last, home, home!
On the clover swings the bee, overhead's the hale tree;
Sky of turquoise gleams through, yonder glints the lake's blue.
In a hammock let's swing, weary of wandering;
Tired of wild, uncertain lands, strange faces, faint hands.
Has the wondrous world gone cold? Am I growing old, old?
Grey and weary . . . let me dream, glide on the tranquil stream.
Oh, what joyous days I've had, full, fervid, gay, glad!
Yet there comes a subtile change, let the stripling rove, range.
From sweet roving comes sweet rest, after all, home's best.
And if there's a little bit of woman-love with it,
I will count my life content, God-blest and well spent. . . .
Oh but it is good to be
Foot-loose and heart-free!
Yet how good it is to come
Home at last, home, home!
poem by Robert William Service
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A Dream Fulfilled (My First Trail Ride)
Upon the saddle I am mounted
My foot in the stirrup is set
Precious time is happily counted
a kinder horse have I never met
Upon the rocky trail I ride
I enjoy fresh air and tree-given shade
Within this horse my trust I confide
and I new friend I have surely made
Though the hills are steep and the trail is rough
This horse has been well-trained
Through the rugged trail, he proves hardy and tough
He knows the way and needs not to be reined
I hear the water of a running creek
I spot a lone deer in the distance
At the sight of this animal, I am unable to speak
While upon a horse she ignores my existence
Closer to nature I start to feel
Trees on either side I can see
Almost like a dream, yet so real
There has never been a happier me
But the trail has ended, I start to cry
I will have a horse of my own! ...But when?
For now, I depart and heave a big sigh
And look forward to the rocky trail again
poem by Glaedr the poet
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Noli Me Tangere
We watched the dawn breaking across the sea
While just above us hung the evening star.
The nearer waters took a hint of white
And clouds and waves together massed afar,
Narrowed our morning world of pallid light
Till dawn seemed very close to you and me.
'Nay, dawn, stay farther off. Be Magdalen.
Go back into the distance whence you came.
The Near is meaningless when Far is nought,'
So I; and you. 'Wait but a little then,
And day, whole day, uprising like a flame,
Will show us the far reaches of our thought.'
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Here will I take my rest
My lady, that did change this house of mine
Into a heaven when that she dwelt therein,
From head to foot an angel's grace divine
Enwrapped her; pure she was, spotless of sin;
Fair as the moon her countenance, and wise;
Lords of the kind and tender glance, her eyes
With an abounding loveliness did shine.
Then said my heart: Here will I take my rest!
This city breathes her love in every part.
But to a distant bourne was she addressed,
Alas! he knew it not, alas, poor heart!
The influence of some cold malignant star
Has loosed my hand that held her, lone and far
She joumeyeth that lay upon my breast.
Not only did she lift my bosom's veil,
Reveal its inmost secret, but her grace
Drew back the curtain from Heaven's mansions pale,
And gave her there an eternal dwelling-place.
The flower-strewn river lip and meadows fair,
The rose herself but fleeting treasures were,
Regret and Winter follow in their trail.
Dear were the days which perished with my friend--
Ah, what is left of life, now she is dead,
All wisdomless and profitless I spend!
The nightingale his own life's blood doth shed,
When, to the kisses of the wind, the morn
Unveils the rose's splendour-with his torn
And jealous breast he dyes her petals red.
Yet pardon her, oh Heart, for poor wert thou,
A humble dervish on the dusty way;
Crowned with the crown of empire was her brow,
And in the realms of beauty she bore sway.
But all the joy that Hafiz' hand might hold,
Lay in the beads that morn and eve he told,
Worn with God's praise; and see! he holds it now.
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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Upbeat Fishy Tale Scaled Down - 0093 - Current version after Bryan Waller Procter Pre-Existence
I sit beside cool spring with wish
I sported silver tail,
so up life's stream trend trail could swish,
sunlight on each bright scale,
till by some bay wise school of fish
might sight trap trawler's trail,
which, followed, must tense anguish net,
woe to temptation's sail!
Life floods in waves, in waves ebbs, keeps
ups, downs, and roundabouts,
some, salmon, leap, from most no peeps
are heard while groans own doubts,
Rise steep precedes descent to deeps,
what soul convention flouts?
Today here, gone tomorrow, creeps
on petty pace till routs
rounds bend at end, race chase asleep,
deceptions all found out.
Who would provide a dish delish
one morn at market sale,
fed as fritters - perish first
scales weighed upon some scale,
no dawn to spawn or to cherish?
One blubbers like a whale.
the thought sends shivers, feverish,
unsure from shore turn tail,
such crass ambitions vanish swift
here's best to leave grieve tale!
(3 April 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Dialogue
The Lone Star: Why are you looking at me?
Me: : For a soulful company
The Lone Star: I am so above, you are far below
Me: : My heart yearns for a distant fellow
The Lone Star: Do I not blink too often!
Me: : My pulse beats too fast, O listen!
The Lone Star: I am a citizen of a cold universe
Me: : My heart warms for you and will never lapse
The Lone Star: I float alone like a wanderer
Me: : I can touch your reflection on a dew's sphere
The Lone Star: You miss me when there is a day's light
Me: : You sleep so quiet in depth of a day's bright
The Lone Star: For ages lonely I am here
Me: : When I shall leave my place, I will be right there
Shamik Bose 6.6.2010 Calcutta
poem by Shamik Bose
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To Sunnydale
There lies the trail to Sunnydale,
Amid the lure of laughter.
Oh, how can we unhappy be
Beneath its leafy rafter!
Each perfect hour is like a flower,
Each day is like a posy.
How can you say the skies are grey?
You're wrong, my friend, they're rosy.
With right good will let's climb the hill,
And leave behind all sorrow.
Oh, we'll be gay! a bright to-day
Will make a bright to-morrow.
Oh, we'll be strong! the way is long
That never has a turning;
The hill is high, but there's the sky,
And how the West is burning!
And if through chance of circumstance
We have to go bare-foot, sir,
We'll not repine -- a friend of mine
Has got no feet to boot, sir.
This Happiness a habit is,
And Life is what we make it:
See! there's the trail to Sunnydale!
Up, friend! and let us take it.
poem by Robert William Service
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Shining Star II
Shining Star the light of my life
your that one star, I wish upon every night
Everyday, hour, min, sec. that goes by
I think about my Shining Star
wishing it was here next to me
Hoping I would see my Shining Star soon
Holding me and never letting go
Reminiscing on how we met
something that I'll never forget.
You are my guiding light I don't want to let go of
Oh Shining Star how much joy you
bring to this lonely heart
May I ask Shining Star,
Do You Love Me the way I Love You?
We'll see Shining Star
if you really do...
But once again my Shining Star
I would say,
You are my one wish
my one love
my one and only
Shining Star
poem by Ivana Suazo
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Driveby
Its a random kind of thing
Came upon a delicate flower
I cant believe a machine gun sings
Driveby, driveby, driveby, driveby
Well he borrowed his girlfiends car
Went out riding with the boys
Now shes gone like a shooting star
Driveby, driveby, driveby, driveby
Now shes gone like a shooting star
Trail of dreams tragic trail of fire
Now shes gone like a shooting star
Driveby, driveby, driveby, driveby
Well you feel invincible
Its just a part of life
Theres a feud going on and you dont know
Driveby, driveby, driveby, driveby
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Once upon a shooting star
Once upon a shooting star, I made a wish for a love afar, the one man I wish to have, for him my life I would give, when he looks into my eyes, I get the instant rush of butterflies, I love this man with all of my heart, the love I feel is like a game of darts, taking chances and scoring high, if not for him I would have no life, we are as one in every way, together forever until the end of days, Once upon a shooting star, I wished for a love afar, I thank that star for all it is worth, and forever this person there forth.
poem by Kayla Elrod
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An obvious painting
If I could be a miniature painting in the gloomy sky above the evening star?
Through the dusk that scene you may watch from your halcyon cottage.
Then definitely you will shout 'Hey! There is a new star in the constellation'.
And all of your family members come out and see that without blinking.
When the dew drops scatter in the new dawn the star begins to pallid gradually.
And that never comes again to the sky.
Then you will utter with a cry 'Hey! It could be a dream'.
* How do you have dreams my dear in this laborious wakeful life?
To my dear friend Denis.Joe O'Driscoll who lives in Liverpool.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Half A Person
Call me morbid, call me pale
I've spent six years on your trail
Six long years
On your trail
Call me morbid, call me pale
I've spent six years on your trail
Six full years of my life on your trail
And if you have five seconds to spare
Then i'll tell you the story of my life :
Sixteen, clumsy and shy
I went to london and i
I booked myself in at the y ... w.c.a.
I said : "i like it here - can i stay ?
I like it here - can i stay ?
And do you have a vacancy
For a back-scrubber?"
She was left behind, and sour
And she wrote to me, equally dour
She said : "in the days when you were
Hopelessly poor
I just liked you more..."
And if you have five seconds to spare
Then i'll tell you the story of my life :
Sixteen, clumsy and shy
I went to london and i
I booked myself in at the y ... w.c.a.
I said : "i like it here - can i stay ?
I like it here - can i stay ?
And do you have a vacancy
For a back-scrubber ?"
Call me morbid, call me pale
I've spent too long on your trail
Far too long
Chasing your tail
Oh ...
And if you have five seconds to spare
Then i'll tell you the story of my life :
Sixteen, clumsy and shy
That's the story of my life
Sixteen, clumsy and shy
The story of my life
That's the story of my life
That's the story of my life
That's the story of my life
The story of my life
That's the story of my life
That's the story of my life
song performed by by Smiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Morning Star
IN the black pool of the midnight Lu has slung the morning star,
And its foam in rippling silver whitens into day afar
Falling on the mountain rampart piled with pearl above our glen,
Only you and I, beloved, moving in the fields of men.
In the dark tarn of my spirit, love, the morning star, is lit;
And its halo, ever brightening, lightens into dawn in it.
Love, a pearl-grey dawn in darkness, breathing peace without desire;
But I fain would shun the burning terrors of the mid-day fire.
Through the faint and tender airs of twilight star on star may gaze,
But the eyes of light are blinded in the white flame of the days,
From the heat that melts together oft a rarer essence slips,
And our hearts may still be parted in the meeting of the lips.
What a darkness would I gaze on when the day had passed the west,
If my eyes were dazed and blinded by the whiteness of a breast?
Never through the diamond darkness could I hope to see afar
Where beyond the pearly rampart burned the purer evening star.
poem by George William Russell
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Beachcomber
When I have come with happy heart to sixty years and ten,
I'll buy a boat and sail away upon a summer sea;
And in a little lonely isle that's far and far from men,
In peace and praise I'll spend the days the Gods allow to me.
For I am weary of a strife so pitiless and vain;
And in a far and fairy isle, bewilderingly bright,
I'll learn to know the leap and glow of rapture once again,
And welcome every living dawn with wonder and delight.
And there I'll build a swan-white house above the singing foam,
With brooding eaves, where joyously rich roses climb and cling;
With crotons in a double row, like wine and honeycomb,
And flame trees dripping golden rain, and palms pavilioning.
And there I'll let the wind and wave do what they will with me;
And I will dwell unto the end with loveliness and joy;
And drink from out the crystal spring, and eat from off the tree,
As simple as a savage is, as careless as a boy.
For I have come to think that Life's a lamentable tale,
And all we break our hearts to win is little worth our while;
For fame and fortune in the end are comfortless and stale,
And it is best to dream and rest upon a radiant isle.
So I'll blot out the bitter years of sufferance and scorn,
And I'll forget the fear and fret, the poverty and pain;
And in a shy and secret isle I'll be a man newborn,
And fashion life to heart's desire, and seek my soul again.
For when I come with happy heart to sixty years and ten,
I fondly hope the best of life will yet remain to me;
And so I'll burn my foolish books and break my futile pen,
And seek a tranced and tranquil isle, that dreams eternally.
I'll turn my back on all the world, I'll bid my friends adieu;
Unto the blink I'll leave behind what gold I have to give;
And in a jewelled solitude I'll mould my life anew,
And nestling close to Nature's heart, I'll learn at last . . . to live.
poem by Robert William Service
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Heart O' The North
And when I come to the dim trail-end,
I who have been Life's rover,
This is all I would ask, my friend,
Over and over and over:
A little space on a stony hill
With never another near me,
Sky o' the North that's vast and still,
With a single star to cheer me;
Star that gleams on a moss-grey stone
Graven by those who love me --
There would I lie alone, alone,
With a single pine above me;
Pine that the north wind whinneys through --
Oh, I have been Life's lover!
But there I'd lie and listen to
Eternity passing over.
poem by Robert William Service
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Life is a choice take it and live it
their is no greater joy than giving joy
the will that desire the best of everything is made
according to the decision given to share what is life
following the footsteps of whom we believed that
will brings as to self realization of oneself
the experience of happiness, is something that every
body wish to attain, it is an achievement period of our
life that the radiant of glows subdue in the harmony of
time, in a given moment,
worth in living is not always measure of what have you
done in your life, its not a matter of who you are or like
a circus where you have to display all what you a have
learn, after all, let not your heart endure the pain, just to
make other happy, for happiness is not for hire
just be of your self, be real as the flowers grow and bloom
its beautiful flower, visited by countless butterfly, allure by
the breezing coldness of the night, and bear wonderful
beauty witness by the star in the sky
like a teardropp of the humid dawn, frozen in the halos of
everlasting dew, make a wave that floats beneath the
wondering sea's that waits the heaven to touch its endless
goodbye
life is wonderful take it and live it...... its all yours.....
poem by Antonio Liao
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