The Sea-Seekers
ALL four of us were inland born
And inland reared from birth were we,
And — though the tale be food for scorn —
We four had never seen the Sea.
We saw the sun by day; by night
The stars threw down their radiance keen;
These things were held a goodly sight,
But still the Sea remained unseen.
The sunlit plains about us spread
Mile after mile on every side;
But still, the sea-wise people said,
The blue salt waste was wondrous wide.
On lonely rides and desert tramps,
And when we searched in rain and dew
The breathing dark of cattle-camps,
A longing came and thrilled us through.
We dreamt of waters spreading far,
Of winding bay and shining reach,
Of shouting reef and growling bar
And breakers crashing down a beach.
The longing grew; we could not rest;
A vision beautiful and brave
Allured us to a mighty quest
Of rolling sea and crested wave.
All four of us were inland born
And inland reared from birth were we;
We mounted early in the morn,
And, riding gaily, sought the Sea.
We rode by day, and camped by night,
And night and day dreamed evermore
Of dawns that broke in rosy light
On curling wave and crescent shore;
The red sun sank upon our quest,
The shadows fell; and in the dark
There was no light in East or West,
Save where our camp-fire burned — a spark.
At times it seemed that we could hear
The sound of breakers in their fall —
We drew our reins, and, hand to ear,
We listened to the distant call.
A stillness reigned from East to West;
The trees and mountains seemed to swoon;
And weirdly paling in the West
Went down a late and lonely moon.
And, while the white moon slowly fell,
A scented breeze of morning blew —
Though inland-born we knew it well,
That odour keen and strange and new.
Then something seemed to burst its chains;
A wave of joy and wonder broke
Across our souls, and in our veins
An ancient Viking stirred and woke.
A sound of breakers came to stir
Our blood, and thrill us with delight;
And neck and neck with whip and spur
We galloped headlong through the night.
The moon had sunk; but in the sky
We saw the Dawn's first light of grey,
And straight as feathered arrows fly
We thundered on to meet the Day.
Afar we saw the shore-line loom;
Our horses, springing freely, strode;
And suddenly in purple gloom
The sea gave greeting as we rode.
We galloped on, nor ever ceased
Till gloriously in golden fire
The sun uprose, and in the East
We reached the goal of our desire.
We pushed our horses through the foam,
The breakers swirled about their knees;
And underneath the golden dome
We shouted to the Morning Seas.
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
A White Horse Of The Most Magical Kind
She rode a white horse,
rode it for sanity;
galloped and cantered
with rhythmic consistency,
walked for a while
along glistening streams
and trotted through dark woods
with the darkest of dreams.
Bridled with a need to express
she rode east and rode west,
never stopping or ceasing her quest,
until she reached
the most beautiful shore,
of a beach of white sand
with a moon in the sky
that reached with its moonlight
into her heart, that had cried.
She dismounted the horse
and danced on the sands
with stars in her eyes;
pure love in her hands.
She looked at her horse
praised it and said
'a horse such as you
is a magical find
a horse that's named poetry
is the most wonderful kind.'
poem by David Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Perfect Wave
Dave McGunn was a surfin’ bum, half–crazed by the blazin’ sun.
From Waikiki to the Bering Sea, he rode ’em one by one.
Now he hung offshore ’bout a mile or more, out where the dolphins played,
And his wild eyes gleamed as he schemed and dreamed
To ride the perfect wave.
Oh, ride the perfect wave, Dave, ride the perfect wave.
If you wait it out and you don’t sell out, you may ride
The perfect wave.
He crouched in the spray and he waited all day till the sun gave way to the moon,
And his legs grew cold and he grew old and wrinkled like a prune.
And the years rolled by and the surf broke high and the 40–foot breakers sprayed.
But he sneered at ’em all, sayin’, 'Too damn small; I’m waitin’
For the perfect wave.'
He was sleepin’ on his board when he woke to a roar as thunder shook the sea.
’Twas the dreaded California quake of 1973.
And he stared at the reef in disbelief, then paddled with tremblin’ hands
As a monstrous crashin’ tidal wave came roarin’ ’cross the land.
It was 12 miles high and it filled the sky, the color of boilin’ blood.
And cities fell beneath its swell and mountains turned to mud.
Its deadly surf engulfed the earth and left not a thing alive.
And high on the tip with a smile on his lip was Davey hangin’ five.
He hit the top of the Golden Gate at a thousand miles an hour,
Over the top of the Empire State and the tip of the Eiffel Tower.
And as he wiped out, you could hear him shout as he plunged to a watery grave,
'Hey hi dee hi, I’m glad to die –– I’ve rode
The perfect wave.'
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When
I dwell in the western inland,
Afar from the sounding sea,
But I seem to hear it sobbing
And calling aloud to me,
And my heart cries out for the ocean
As a child for its mother's breast,
And I long to lie on its waters
And be lulled in its arms to rest.
I can close my eyes and fancy
That I hear its mighty roar,
And I see its blue waves splashing
And plunging against the shore;
And the white foam caps the billow,
And the sea-gulls wheel and cry,
And the cool wild wind is blowing,
And the ships go sailing by.
Oh, wonderful, mighty ocean!
When shall I ever stand,
Where my heart has gone already,
There on thy gleaming strand!
When shall I ever wander
Away from the inland west,
And strand by thy side, dear ocean,
And rock on thy heaving breast?
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Night
II
Watchman, what of the night?
See you a streak of light?
Whither, O Captain of the quest,
The course we steer for Port of Rest?
How shall he answer - he
Who never put to sea?
Within his tabernacle wall
He cannot even hear us call.
Behind the jealous door
That he must pass no more,
And whence he scarcely dares to look,
He keeps his eyes upon his book.
The little candles, lit
Where the disciples sit,
Light their small refuge round about,
But show no gleam to those without -
Spirits that cannot dwell
In such an airless cell,
Sniffing the sea-winds from afar,
Glimpsing the light of moon and star.
We must fare forth, unsped,
From homely board and bed;
We must set sail for port unknown,
On an uncharted course, alone.
Push off. We have to go,
Whether we choose or no.
The Call, though faint and far away,
Has reached us, and we must obey.
. . . . .
O but the night is dark
Beyond that only ark!
The salt sea-winds blow keen and cold
Outside the shelter of the fold!
Boom of the deep-sea swell,
Solemn as funeral bell -
Silence transcending sound, to make
High courage falter and heart quake . . . . .
What will the voyage cost?
We are already lost
Who turn from land and love, to face
This blank immensity of space.
Push out. We have to go,
Whether we fear or no.
And why stand shivering and appalled?
We go because the Voice has called.
Noah's inspired dove
Took wing to find her love.
The sea is His - safe as the land
Within the hollow of His hand.
Here are the breakers - pull
Before the boat is full!
'Ware the sharp reefs that line the shore!
Row for the open evermore!
. . . . .
O but the night is dark!
Never the faintest spark
Where surf and shore and cities were!
And not a whisper in the air.
The open - heart of grace,
It is a lonely place!
No light on any onward track!
Too far - too late - for turning back!
Where is that little ark -
Those candles in the dark -
The Rock of Ages cleft for me -
The Cross uprising in the sea -
Whereto the drowning grope
With yearning faith and hope,
And cling as to their mother's breast,
And find safe shelter and sweet rest?
Gone, gone - for ever gone!
And still we must press on.
Steady, true soul, too brave to fret!
Press on - we are not drowning yet.
. . . . .
The night is soft and still
That was so wild and chill;
The bosom of the mighty deep
Breathes like a tired child asleep.
So peaceful, so profound,
The silence spread around!
The very breakers of the shore
Moan to the listening ear no more.
Night - but the stars are out.
Darkness of dread and doubt,
The way so lonely and so rough,
Have cleared a little, but enough.
We know not where we are-
Light cannot reach so far,
But shows us we have lost and gained
As the compelling Voice ordained.
Gone, gone beyond recall,
Candle and prisoning wall,
Last echo of the hue and cry,
Last glint of an accusing eye.
Too late for looking back
Over the darkening track.
How should the life-taught soul return
That cannot unlive or unlearn?
. . . . .
Changed, changed, for ever changed,
Since hitherward we ranged,
To vision in a space so vast,
All the perspectives of the past.
How infinitely small
The once so broad and tall -
The aims, the pursuit and the strife
Shut in the sheltered grooves of life!
Those terrifying laws,
The wrangles and the wars
Of church with church and state with state -
The things men love, the things men hate -
Money and gauds and fame,
And neighbours' scorn and blame -
The passion of desire and haste
To gather, to possess, to waste . . . . . .
How infinitely high,
Broad as the sea and sky,
The loyalty of man to man,
Once almost missing from the plan -
The elemental law
That codes and creeds ignore,
Of duty to the trust we hold
For heirs unborn and years untold . . . . . .
. . . . .
Night - and the drifting soul
Still without path or goal.
Yet was the voyage worth the cost.
We are not drowned. We are not lost.
'T'is I. Be not afraid.
Moonlight and stars may fade.
One walks the ocean and the night.
We have no further need of light.
What matters where we go?
We do not ask to know.
He called us, and we came. The quest
For us is ended, and we rest.
poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Am The Night
I am the lightning
And the storm
All hell broke loose
On the night I was born
A child of fire
And burning flames
Look to the east
And youll see hence I came
Might throw you into the darkness
Or save you by the light
Of the moon and stars
Ever shining
Celestial bodies burning bright
Burning bright
I, I am the night
I, I am the night
I am the terror
The beast at large
Heed my warning
Sound the alarm
An endless shadow
For daylight you pray
Lock your doors
But you cannot get away
Tender angels of mercy
How they run from my sight
Eclipsed into darkness
Searching only for the light
For the light
For the light
I, I am the night
I, I am the night
!!thgin ta sevil latem
song performed by by Pantera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Drover Of The Stars
IT is little I care for earth's kings,
Its emperors, sultans and czars,
As I lie in the darkness and dream
All alone with my sheep and the stars.
For as dust of the moment are they,
Now agleam and now still on earth's breast;
But the stars, spreading wide in the night,
Travel on, ever on to the west.
My sheep, snugly camped in the dark,
Misty-white with the pale grasses blend;
But where is the camp of the stars?
And whither, O Night, do they wend?
Through leagues of dry distance we came,
Where dust-wreaths, wind-woven, upcurled,
Since Dawn dropped the rails of the east
And let the Day into our world.
Slow-moving we travelled the plains,
Trudging on through the sun and the wind,
Till Day galloped out of the west,
And Night set the sliprails behind.
And now, by my camp-fire alone,
A tryst with pale Wonder I keep —
That mystical Lady of Dreams,
Whose hour is the sleep-of-the-sheep.
Foot-tired in the grasses they lie,
Mist-pale in the darkness, and dumb;
Yet who was it mustered the stars,
And whence and what leagues have they come?
Who keeps them from straying apart?
Who urges them straight on their route?
No answer — none tell me; and lo!
The Night, though it listen, is mute!
Watch 'neath the stars of the Cross,
Orion, and Venus and Mars;
I am but a drover of sheep —
But who is the Drover of Stars?
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Aura
The air was dark
The moon was dark
The night was dark
The cloud was dark
The heat was dark
The stars were black
The birds were black
The eyes were black
The shadows were black
The planes were black
A sound of night
The hearts of night
A chase at night
A fall at night
No help at night
The night is night
Where is my sight
I have no sight
Your light was sight
No light no sight
No one in sight
The dark in sight
Don't call my name
What's my name
They call my name
That's not my name
Who said its my name
I have no name
You took my same
It was our same
She was our same
She's now your same
Its all the same
I'm not the same
Judas and my hand
You took my hand
'I do' my hand
You kissed my hand
You broke my hand
You fell my hand
A tear in sand
A heart in sand
A body in sand
Alone in sand
A dust in sand
At home in sand.
poem by Jenim Dibie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How Wide The Dawn
How wide the Dawn
Is smiling!
How silent-new
The air is breathing!
How raw the sea
Without a wave
Is looking!
And in the night –
Id est last night
How strange
The owl chanteth!
How far, how far
Its cry did seem
And yet
It was so near!
How thrilled the tree
Below my lighted window
And in the night
The solemn night
The owl was still a-calling
To spirits wild
Perhaps
Or long white ghosts
Perhaps!
And in the eyes
Of the pale moon
The lake nearby glistened:
How white
How thin
The rays that fall
In midst of the dark waters!
And from the lake
A soundless sound
Is coming:
For in the waves
And from the waves
There comes a little gurgling
And in the night
In the long night
The owl is speaking, speaking!
Ah! this night – in the night
The people in the house
Are all a-sleeping
I – only I
The vigil, the night-vigil
Am making:
And I
And only I
Will my reward receive
For I
And only I
Am seeing
For I
And only I
Am hearing
And I
And only I
Am feeling!
How strange how sere
The feeling!
How from the clear night
The mist of sudden riseth!
And from afar
Past ten long fields
The cemetery is burning
With the pale light
Of the swift moon
That fall
On every wall
This long, long night!
It seems
It seems
That the cemetery’s open:
And yet
And yet
There is no noise
No sound
But from the yews
A soundless sound
Is coming:
A restless sound
Like souls
This night all-aching
And restless
Restless
At some thing
I am not hearing!
Ha! We on earth
Make prisons
And lodge
Bodies – human bodies in them:
And we on earth
Make cemeteries
And lodge
Bodies – human bodies in them
And the long night
Under the light
Of heaven
How waning-blue
And tight
Is coming!
So:
At long last
We fall into a prison
If not the one
In fine to the other
And at the last
And in the last
We enter our last prison:
And in the night
The long and lonely night
The cemetery is shining!
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beneath A Desert Moon
From the mountains of the moon to the mighty delta
From the deserts of the West to the shining sea
Beneath the canopy of stars flowed the serpent river
Flowing through my father's land that he left to me
From the baker to the priest to the candle maker
From the highest to the low in my father's land
We make our offer to the sun 'fore the break of morning
Or else everything we have will just turn to sand
I have a lot to ask
I have a lot that I need to say
I have so much to do
And all I need is another day
From the soldier to the scribe to the carpet maker
All the different colored threads in a carpet loom
A woven tapestry of life is our mighty nation
This is the writing on the wall of my father's tomb
We have a lot to ask
We have a lot that we need to say
We have so much to do
And all we need is another day
Beneath the desert moon I call you
Beneath the desert moon I sing
Beneath the desert moon so lonely
I'm just a boy who would be king
With just the moon to guide us
We sometimes lose our way
If there's a light inside us
We'll follow, follow it to the brightness of the day
Every single blade of grass every yellow flower
Every ripple on the sea or the blue blue Nile
Every leaf on every tree every single creature
From the smallest little bird to the crocodile
We have a lot to ask
We have a lot that we need to say
We have so much to do
And all we need is another day
Beneath the desert moon I call you
Beneath the desert moon we sing
Beneath the desert moon we're waiting
Before the coming of the king
Beneath the desert moon that's sinking
We see the Eastern skies on fire
This is where darkness leaves
And shining waters fall
And let the shadows run
And we'll say, "welcome to the sun"
Brand new day...
From the mountains of the moon to the mighty delta
From the deserts of the West to the shining sea
Beneath the canopy of stars flowed the serpent river
Flowing through my father's land that he left to me
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I Shall Be Released
They say everything can be replaced
Well then distance is not near
I remember every face
Of everyone who put me here
I see my light come shining
From the west down to the east
Any day now
Any day now
I shall be released
They say everyone needs protection
They say everyone must fall
Yet I swear I see my reflection
Some where so high above this wall
I see my light come shining
From the west down to the east
Any day now
Any day now
I shall be released
Standing next to me in this lonely crowd
Is a man who swears hes not to blame
All day long I hear him shout so loud
That he swears he was framed
I see my light come shining
From the west down to the east
Any day now
Any day now
I shall be released
I see my light come shining
From the west down to the east
Any day now
Any day now
I shall be released
Any day now
Any day now
I shall be released
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Early Morning, The
morn
things burst
from within me
the ocean wave
the cries of seagulls
sweep of vapours
those few twinkling stars
and the shiny planet
that slowly loses itself
in the glare of daylight
in me a flower blooms
the day that slowly dawns
light inches itself into me
the way the petals slowly
spread themselves out
welcoming each day
gracing it with such beauty
each of my acts i make sure
would make the day worth it
my heart slowly blooms
like the roses every new day
every mistake, a sting on the petal
by an unwelcomed ant
inspired by
Early Morning, The
The moon on the one hand, the dawn on the other:
The moon is my sister, the dawn is my brother.
The moon on my left and the dawn on my right.
My brother, good morning: my sister, good night.
Hilaire Belloc
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dawn To Dusk
The eastern sky
Suffused with light.
New risen sun is climbing high.
Erasing shadows of the night.
From east to west.
The normal way.
The sun pursues his daily quest.
In the same way every day
As he has done
Since time began.
Our days are measured by the sun.
Whose rule applies to every man.
When morning breaks.
The sun will rise
And take the route he always takes
From east to west across the sky.
At journeys end.
The sun will set.
And shadows of the night descend.
An all embracing coverlet.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Window
All night long, by a distant bell,
The passing hours were notched
On the dark, while her breathing rose and fell,
And the spark of life I watched
In her face was glowing or fading, -- who could tell? --
And the open window of the room,
With a flare of yellow light,
Was peering out into the gloom,
Like an eye that searched the night.
Oh, what do you see in the dark, little window, and why do you fear?
"I see that the garden is crowded with creeping forms of fear:
Little white ghosts in the locust-tree, that wave in the night-wind's breath,
And low in the leafy laurels the larking shadow of death."
Sweet, clear notes of a waking bird
Told of the passing away
Of the dark, -- and my darling may have heard;
For she smiled in her sleep, while the ray
Of the rising dawn spoke joy without a word,
Till the splendor born in the east outburned
The yellow lamplight, pale and thin,
And the open window slowly turned
To the eye of the morning, looking in.
Oh, what do you see in the room, little window, that makes you so bright?
"I see that a child is asleep on her pillow, soft and white,
With the rose of life on her tips, and the breath of life in her breast,
And the arms of God around her as she quietly takes her rest."
poem by Henry Van Dyke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Seeker
GOOD People, by your fires to-night
Sit close and praise the red, red wood!
The wind is cold, the moon is white;
With me who wander 'tis not well; it is not well, but God is good.
'Fore birth I was foredoomed to roam,
To keep my soul and self apart,
An alien without hearth and home —
With me who wander 'tis not well; there is no warmth of fire or heart.
I mate with all the wandering winds
That roam across the wintry earth;
What time behind your close-drawn blinds
Your firelit faces smile and smile, I would that I might share their
mirth.
But if I entered I should sit
A wordless dreamer at your fire;
With heart unwarmed and eyes unlit,
I should be like a spectre there, shut off from you and your desire.
And yet, I would that I might warm
My heart and hands at your fire-glow;
But headlong seas and shouting storm
They thrill my blood, they fill my eyes, they call me forth, and I must
go.
Good People, maids and dames and sires,
Ye have your little woe and mirth;
Ye dream no dream; but there are spires
That point to stars, and still point on in spite of this dark, drawing
earth.
It is not well with me to-night,
And I by that strange shore would be
Where, 'twist day's last grey gleam and night,
A Wonder wanes that I alone of all the world must seek and see.
What cliffs they be, what sea rolls there,
I do not know; but, spirit-chained,
Lost visions fill me with despair,
And all the washed grey foreland speaks of some strange Wonder that
has waned.
Good People, bread and wine are good,
And all your visions goodly be.
But some may crave for other food,
And some are seekers from their birth, and dream of lights they shall
not see.
And there is he who fain would find
A Wonder by an alien shore:
Athwart the seas he speeds his mind,
But on the instant fades a light, and lo, the Wonder is no more.
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Swamp
FOR one whole day and a long night through
We made our camp
In a she-oak grove by a coastal swamp.
Our tent gleamed white in the she-oak trees,
Whose falling hair
Made a soft, brown mist in the sweet blue air.
A sound subdued from their tresses rose —
A moan, a sigh
As of unseen seas, when the breeze went by.
'Twas wattle-time, and the scented bloom,
New lit and young,
In a mass of gold from the still trees hung.
There music dwelt, and a splendour moved
Through all the day
From the green of dawn to the twilight gray.
For careless ever, like one who goes
Where Joyance leads,
Sang the little reed-bird in the tall, green reeds.
Blue, swift and slender the dragonflies
A-hawking flew,
And a hawk hung poised in the burning blue.
A crane, slow-flapping its great wings, passed
Across the scene,
And a parrot jewelled the leafy screen.
In twos and threes from the hills around
The peewits came,
And the brush-flower burnt like a crimson flame.
On ti-tree trunk and on frond and log
The lizards slept,
While the sun moved west, and the shadows crept.
The sun moved west, and the tall hills sent
Broad shadows east,
And the reed-bird's song in the reed-beds ceased.
Then fell a hush, and within that hush
Rose, clear and shrill,
A cicada note on a distant hill.
A note of farewell, it seemed to us,
Its singing bore;
And the night came down, and it sang no more.
Night came with shadows and fitful gleams
And mist and damp,
And our fire burned red by the coastal swamp.
Then life not known of the daytime woke —
That life that preys
On the feathered things of the leafy ways.
We heard feet moving, and velvet wings
On swamp and height,
And a dingo howling across the night.
As, faces lit by the red camp-fire,
We mused enthralled.
Like a lone, lost spirit a curlew called;
Brown crickets sang in the moisty mould,
And every breeze
Drew a moaning note from the she-oak trees.
And all night long, as they swayed and moaned,
Strange fancies woke,
And we could not rest for the things they spoke.
Thus much and more through the hours we saw;
Thus much we heard
In that place of blossom and tree and bird.
Since then gold wattles have bloomed and bloomed,
And moons aloft
In the sky have wizened and waned full oft.
And yet, at times, when the night is still,
In dreams I tramp
Through the white sand-dunes to that coastal camp.
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Afterglow
The setting sun's last dying rays
Lay o'er the land a purple haze
And paint with colours - reds and blues,
On rippled waters, dappled hues.
As in the west, gilded with light,
Are laid the shrouds, once clouds so white,
Upon the far horizon bright,
As mourners cloak the dead from sight.
And trees that watch the sinking sun
Know that the night has just begun;
Know that the light of life has ceased,
‘Til born at dawn there in the east.
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sunrise, Sunset
O Sun, When you rise,
It’s morning dawn.
When you set,
It’s evening dusk.
O Sun, Seeing your beauty lighting
Shining on landscape from dawn
Shining on seascape from dusk
It comes from dawn to dusk.
O Sun, rise from East
O Sun, set to West
From East to West,
Celestial light comes and go,
Seasons come and go.
Here come four seasons
North to South, East to West
From Spring comes Autumn,
From Summer comes Winter.
O Sun, From rising East
To setting West
O Moon, Come rising East
To setting West
Cycle never end,
It’s endless cycle,
Seeing sunset every dusk,
Seeing sunrise every dawn.
Making us pondering..
Make us wondering
Where, When will be next..
Sunrise, sunset..
poem by Lawrence Hiung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Song of the Sea-Wind
When the sun sets over the long blue wave
I spring from my couch of rest,
And I hurtle and boom over leagues of foam
That toss in the weltering west,
I pipe a hymn to the headlands high,
My comrades forevermore,
And I chase the tricksy curls of foam
O'er the glimmering sandy shore.
The moon is my friend on clear, white nights
When I ripple her silver way,
And whistle blithely about the rocks
Like an elfin thing at play;
But anon I ravin with cloud and mist
And wail 'neath a curdled sky,
When the reef snarls yon like a questing beast,
And the frightened ships go by.
I scatter the dawn across the sea
Like wine of amber flung
From a crystal goblet all far and fine
Where the morning star is hung;
I blow from east and I blow from west
Wherever my longing be-
The wind of the land is a hindered thing
But the ocean wind is free!
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Gettysburg
Though the winds be strong that lash along the steeds of the charging sea,
With lunge and urge of assaulting surge yet seeking a further goal,
God in His pleasure hath set a measure, the bound of their boast to be,
Where, pile upon pile, and mile on mile, are the cliffs of calm control.
But the Lord of Hosts who guardeth the coasts yet loveth each sieging swell,
And He who is Brother to surge and smother is Brother to cliff as well:
He giveth the word if the shore be stirred, He biddeth the sea subside,
And this is our trust, that His will is just, however He turn the tide!
As night went gray at the touch of day and the slow dawn mounted higher,
On the Federal right the third day’s fight was born in a sheet of fire:
Gun upon gun to the front was run, and each in its turn spoke forth
From fevered mouth to the waiting South the word of the watching North:
And the wraith of Death with withering breath o’er the wide arena played,
As across the large swept on the charge of the old Stonewall brigade;
But the first great wave on a sudden gave, retreating across the slain—
Gave and broke, as the rifles spoke from the long blue line of Kane!
Then silence sank on the double rank deployed on the sullen hill,
And, across the plain of the early slain, the hosts of the South were still,
Waiting, each, till further speech from the guns should dart and din—
Sign to the brave that the final wave of the tide was rolling in.
Adown the line like a draught of wine the presence of Hancock came,
And eyes grew bright in the steadfast light of his own that blazed to flame;
For the Federals knew, where his banner blew—and they saw their leader ride,
That a righteous God on that sea of sod had decreed a turn of tide!
So came one, when a signal gun awoke on the Southern side,
And Hunt’s brigade with a cannonade to the challenge of Lee replied,
Like arrows sent from a bow well bent to the heart of a distant targe,
Virginia’s hope rode down the slope, with Pickett leading the charge!
Steady and slow, as soldiers go in some serried dress parade,
With flags a-dance in their cool advance came the gallant gray brigade,
And steady and slow, as if no foe on the frowning heights abode,
To the cannon’s breath, to the scythe of Death, Pickett, their leader, rode.
God! what a mile he led them! From the slope they sought to scale,
Sullen and hot, the swingeing shot was hurling its awful hail:
Where a long ravine ploughed through the green they halted, anew to form,
And then, with a cheer, to the ridge’s sheer they swept like a summer storm.
Hand to hand at the guns they manned, the Federals fought and fell,
Where Armistead his regiment led up the cannister-harrowed swell,
He touched a gun—for a breath he won the crest of the Union’s pride—
Then over the hill Jehovah’s will decreed the turn of the tide!
Taken in flank each gallant rank of Pickett’s battalions gave,
Trampled and tossed, since hope was lost, there was left but life to save;
Beaten back on the travelled track, they faltered, and broke, and fled,
And, swinging his scythe, Death claimed his tithe in the pale and patient dead!
For the arm of the Lord had raised the sword that man may not gainsay,
’Twixt the cause of the Free and the cause of Lee the issue no longer lay;
For the word of the Lord had gone abroad that the strife of the right had won,
And Freedom’s foe at the call bowed low and answered “Thy will be done!”
Pickett, ah, Pickett, the staunchest heart in the Southern host that day,
Hail to the brave in the last great wave of the long and fearful fray,
That broke in foam on the trampled loam of that tempest trampled mount—
In the glory born of a hope forlorn they passed to their last account!
Meade, ah, Meade, there are hearts that bleed for your host that fought and fell,
When the final charge broke on the marge of a hillside turned to Hell!
Yet this the speech on the crag-girt beach that the sea proclaims for aye,
And this the word that the cliffs unstirred through the ages still reply:
Though the winds be strong that lash along the steeds of the charging sea,
With lunge and urge of assaulting surge yet seeking a further goal,
God in His pleasure hath set a measure, the bound of their boast to be,
Where, pile upon pile, and mile on mile, are the cliffs of calm control.
But the Lord of Hosts who guardeth the coasts yet loveth each sieging swell,
And He who is Brother to surge and smother is Brother to cliff as well:
He giveth the word if the shore be stirred, He biddeth the sea subside,
And this is our trust, that His will is just, however He turn the tide!
poem by Guy Wetmore Carryl from The Garden of Years and Other Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Who'll Stop The Rain
Who'll stop the rain
Who'll stop the action
East side west side
The world moves on
I heard a rumour that fires were started
Flame in the streets and tension uncharted
Bigger than life at the edge of the city
Ashes and diamonds gleaming with pity
Who'll stop the rain
Who'll stop the action
East side west side
The world moves on
Between midnight and dawn you slept through the deadlines
Believe in me and we'll hit the tall headlines
Look up and laugh be happy today
Here come the waves count three pray
Who'll stop the rain
Who'll stop the action
East side west side
The world moves on
A global affair in big house u.s.a.
A moving violation angels over broadway
The next voice you hear will be the main attraction
The next time we love standby for action
Meet me tonight and love me for ever
Let's be happy let's be famous whatever the weather
The rain must fall and night time is calling
Golden boy and golden girl it's a great day in the morning
Who'll stop the rain
Who'll stop the action
East side west side
The world moves on
song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!