Jubal and Tubal Cain
Canadian
Jubal sang of the Wrath of God
And the curse of thistle and thorn--
But Tubal got him a pointed rod,
And scrabbled the earth for corn.
Old--old as that early mould,
Young as the sprouting grain--
Yearly green is the strife between
Jubal and Tubal Cain!
Jubal sang of the new-found sea,
And the love that its waves divide--
But Tubal hollowed a fallen tree
And passed to the further side.
Black-black as the hurricane-wrack,
Salt as the under-main-
Bitter and cold is the hate they hold--
Jubal and Tubal Cain!
Jubal sang of the golden years
Uhen wars and wounds shall cease--
But Tubal fashioned the hand-flung spears
And showed his neighbours peace
New--new as Nine-point-Two
Older than Lamech's slain--
Roaring and loud is the feud avowed
Twix'' Jubal and Tubal Cain!
Jubal sang of the cliffs that bar
And the peaks that none may crown--
But Tubal clambered by jut and scar
And there he builded a town.
High-high as the snowsheds lie,
Low as the culverts drain--
Wherever they be they can never agree--
Jubal and Tubal Cain!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Song of Lamech
Hearken to me, ye mothers of my tent:
Ye wives of Lamech, hearken to my speech:
Adah, let Jubal hither lead his goats:
And Tubal Cain, O Zillah, hush the forge;
Naamah her wheel shall ply beside, and thou,
My Jubal, touch, before I speak, the string.
Yea, Jubal, touch, before I speak, the string.
Hear ye my voice, beloved of my tent,
Dear ones of Lamech, listen to my speech.
For Eve made answer, Cain, my son, my own,
O, if I cursed thee, O my child, I sinned,
And He that heard me, heard, and said me nay:
My first, my only, one, thou shalt not go;
And Adam answered also, Cain, my son,
He that is gone forgiveth, we forgive:
Rob not thy mother of two sons at once;
My child, abide with us and comfort us.
Hear ye my voice; Adah and Zillah, hear;
Ye wives of Lamech, listen to my speech.
For Cain replied not. But, an hour more, sat
Where the night through he sat; his knit brows seen,
Scarce seen, amid the foldings of his limbs.
But when the sun was bright upon the field,
To Adam still, and Eve still waiting by,
And weeping, lift he up his voice and spake.
Cain said, The sun is risen upon the earth;
The day demands my going, and I go.
As you from Paradise, so I from you:
As you to exile, into exile I:
My father and my mother, I depart.
As betwixt you and Paradise of old,
So betwixt me, my parents, now, and you,
Cherubim I discern, and in their hand
A flaming sword that turneth every way,
To keep the way of my one tree of life,
The way my spirit yearns to, of my love.
Yet not, O Adam and O Eve, fear not.
For He that asked me, Where is Abel? He
Who called me cursed from the earth, and said
A fugitive and vagabond thou art,
He also said, when fear had slain my soul,
There shall not touch thee man nor beast. Fear not.
Lo, I have spoke with God, and He hath said.
Fear not; and let me go as He hath said.
Cain also said (O Jubal, touch thy string),
Moreover, in the darkness of my mind,
When the night’s night of misery was most black,
A little star came twinkling up within,
And in myself I had a guide that led,
And in myself had knowledge of a soul
Fear not, O Adam and O Eve: I go.
Children of Lamech, listen to my speech.
For when the years were multiplied, and Cain
Eastward of Eden, in this land of Nod,
Had sons, and sons of sons, and sons of them,
Enoch and Irad and Mehujael
(My father, and my children’s grandsire he),
It came to pass, that Cain, who dwelt alone,
Met Adam, at the nightfall, in the field:
Who fell upon his neck, and wept, and said,
My son, has God not spoken to thee, Cain?
And Cain replied, when weeping loosed his voice,
My dreams are double, O my father, good
And evil. Terror to my soul by night,
And agony by day, when Abel stands
A dead, black shade, and speaks not, neither looks,
Nor makes me any answer when I cry
Curse me, but let me know thou art alive.
But comfort also, like a whisper, comes,.
In visions of a deeper sleep, when he,
Abel, as him we knew, yours once and mine,
Comes with a free forgiveness in his face,
Seeming to speak, solicitous for words,
And wearing ere he go the old, first look
Of unsuspecting, unforeboding love.
Three nights are gone I saw him thus, my Sire.
Dear ones of Lamech, listen to my speech.
For Adam said, Three nights ago to me
Came Abel, in my sleep, as thou hast said,
And spake, and bade, Arise, my father, go
Where in the land of exile dwells thy son;
Say to my brother, Abel bids thee come,
Abel would have thee; and lay thou thy hand,
My father, on his head, that he may come;
Am I not weary, father, for this hour?
Hear ye my voice, Adah and Zillah, hear;
Children of Lamech, listen to my speech:
And, son of Zillah, sound thy solemn string.
For Adam laid upon the head of Cain
His hand, and Cain bowed down, and slept, and died.
And a deep sleep on Adam also fell,
And, in his slumber’s deepest, he beheld,
Standing before the gate of Paradise,
With Abel, hand in hand, our father Cain.
Hear ye my voice, Adah and Zillah, hear;
Ye wives of Lamech, listen to my speech.
Though to his wounding he did slay a man,
Yea, and a young man to his hurt he slew,
Fear not, ye wives, nor sons of Lamech fear:
If unto Cain was safety given and rest,
Shall Lamech surely and his people die?
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Music's Empire
First was the world as one great cymbal made,
Where jarring winds to infant Nature played.
All music was a solitary sound,
To hollow rocks and murm'ring fountains bound.
Jubal first made the wilder notes agree;
And Jubal tuned music's Jubilee;
He call'd the echoes from their sullen cell,
And built the organ's city where they dwell.
Each sought a consort in that lovely place,
And virgin trebles wed the manly bass.
From whence the progeny of numbers new
Into harmonious colonies withdrew.
Some to the lute, some to the viol went,
And others chose the cornet eloquent,
These practicing the wind, and those the wire,
To sing men's triumphs, or in Heaven's choir.
Then music, the mosaic of the air,
Did of all these a solemn noise prepare;
With which she gain'd the empire of the ear,
Including all between the earth and sphere.
Victorious sounds! yet here your homage do
Unto a gentler conqueror than you;
Who though he flies the music of his praise,
Would with you Heaven's Hallelujahs raise.
poem by Andrew Marvell
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Blades
SOJOURNER, set down
Your skimming wheel;
Nothing is sharp
That we have of steel:
Nothing has edge:
Oh, whirl around
Your wheel of stone
Till our blades be ground!
Harshly, quickly, under blades
Hafted with horn and wood and bone
Went the wheel:
Narrow long knives that should be one edge,
House-knives that sliced the loaf to the heel,
And scraped scales off mackerel,
And weighty knives that were shaped like a wedge-
Stone wakened keenness m their steel:
Knives with which besom-makers pare
Their heather-stalks, and hawkers' blades
Used by men of a dozen trades;
Broad-bladed knives that cut bacon-sides,
And stumpy knives for cobblers' hides,
With hunters' knives that were thinned with wear:-
All were brought to,
All were laid on,
All were ground by
The Sojourner's wheel.
And those who filled the market-square
Saw hand and eye upon their ware
That were well schooled and scrupulous
To spend upon that task their use.
But sparks came from the eyes and met
The sparks that were from the edges whet
As eagerly and wittingly
The dullness of each blade scoured he,
And the brow he bent was like a stone.
Over the grinding-stone he sang,
'The dalesman's sword shall make you fear,
And the dirk in the grasp of the mountaineer,
likewise the pirate's blue cutlass
have left your blades long edgeless!'
the men were thinking of games of cards,
the looks of the boys were turned towards
corner where they played pitch and toss,
the women thought of the herring across
tongs to roast where pot-hooks hang,
ready and unforward men have no right to any lien
the gifts of Tubal Cain,
The gifts of our father, Tubal Cain!'
But no one drew meaning from the song
As he made an equal edge along
One side of the blade and the other one,
And polished the surface till it shone.
'Now leave a blessing on what you have done.'
'For what I have done I take my fee,
But no blessing I leave on it,' said he,
'Everybody knows,
Everybody knows
That the knife-grinder
No blessing bestows.'
Then the market-place, with wheel a-pack,
He left, and the men to their cards went back
And talked of a bird in the cocker's loft;
And of liming linnets beside the croft
The boys told between pitch and toss;
And the women laid the herring across
The tongs to roast for a sloven's meal.
And he went out beside the Peel
Tower, and through Saint Selskar's Gate,
Heading at a hearty rate
Towards the hilltops and the shades.
And three who brought back sharpened blades
To their fathers' stalls by the Tan-yard Side,
And then stayed while a blackbird cried
Quietly by their groundsills
The butcher's daughter,
The cobbler's daughter,
The hawker's daughter,
Were lost on the hills!
poem by Padraic Colum
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet's Song
I HID in the world and sang,
And I sang so loud and long
That all the ages rang
With the music of my song.
I sang of the earth and sky,
5
I sang of the whispering seas,
I sang of the mountains high,
And I sang of the flowers and trees;
I sang of the early spring,
I sang of the dawning day,
10
I sang, for I had to sing
As the young lambs have to play;
Till heaven and earth were ringing,
And all the people heard,
And they said, "We love his singing,
15
For his song is the song of the bird."
poem by Frederick George Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poor Boy Blues
by Bob Dylan
Mm, tell mama,
Where'd ya sleep last night?
Cain't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
Hey, tell me baby,
What's the matter here?
Cain't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
Hey, stop you ol' train,
Let a poor boy ride.
Cain't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
Hey, Mister Bartender,
I swear I'm not too young.
Cain't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
Blow your whistle, policeman,
My poor feet are trained to run.
Cain't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
Long-distance operator,
I hear this poor call is on the house.
Cain't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
Ashes and diamonds,
The diff'rence I cain't see.
Cain't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
Mister Judge and Jury,
Cain't you see the shape I'm in?
Don't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
Mississippi River,
You a-runnin' too fast for me.
Cain't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Genesis BK XVIII
(ll. 1082-1089) And there was also in that tribe another son of
Lamech, called Tubal Cain, a smith skilled in his craft. He was
the first of all men on the earth to fashion tools of husbandry;
and far and wide the city-dwelling sons of men made use of bronze
and iron.
(ll. 1090-1103) Then to his two beloved wives, Adah and Zillah,
Lamech rehearsed a tale of shame: "I have struck down a kinsman
unto death! I have defiled my hands with the blood of Cain! I
smote down Enoch's father, slayer of Abel, and poured his blood
upon the ground. Full well I know that for that mortal deed
shall come God's seven-fold vengeance. With fearful torment
shall my deed of death and murder be requited, when I go hence."
(ll. 1104-1111) Then another son was born to Adam in Abel's
stead; and his name was Seth. He was a righteous son and
blessed, a solace to his parents, his father and mother, Adam and
Eve. And he filled the place of Abel in the world. Then Adam
spake, the first of men:
(ll. 1111-1116) "The eternal God of victory, the Lord of life,
hath vouchsafed me another son in place of my beloved whom Cain
slew. So our Lord hath stilled the sorrow of my heart. To Him
be thanks!"
(ll. 1117-1127) Now, when Adam begat another son to be his heir,
that sturdy man had lived an hundred and thirty winters of this
life in the world. The writings tell us that Adam increased his
tribe on earth, begetting sons and daughters eight hundred years.
And all the years of Adam were nine hundred and thirty winters,
and he died.
(ll. 1128-1142) And Seth succeeded Adam: at his father's death
the well-loved son possessed the treasure, and took himself a
wife. And Seth lived an hundred and five winters in the world
and increased his tribe, begetting sons and daughters. Enos was
first-born of the sons of Seth; and he was first of all the sons
of men to call upon the name of God since Adam, first a living
spirit, set foot on the green earth. Seth prospered, eight
hundred and seven winters begetting sons and daughters. And all
the years of Seth were nine hundred and twelve winters, and he
died.
(ll. 1143-1154) And after he went hence, and the earth received
the body of seed-bearing Seth, Enos was warden of the heritage.
Dear was he unto God! He lived for ninety winters in the world,
and begat children. And Cainan was first-born of the sons of
Enos. Eight hundred and fifteen winters the man of wisdom lived,
at peace with God, begetting sons and daughters. And all the
years of Enos were nine hundred and five winters, and he died.
(ll. 1155-1166) And after Enos Cainan ruled the tribe as lord and
leader. He lived seventy winters, and begat a son. An heir was
born unto his house, and his name was Mahalaleel. Eight hundred
and forty winters Cainan lived, and increased his tribe. And all
the years of the son of Enos were nine hundred and ten winters,
and he died, and his appointed days beneath the heavens were
fulfilled.
Kids! Kids! Kids!
You're once a sperm that your father didn't waste,
Dove to your mother's egg and gave her a positive test,
Became a fetus and made her crave for nuts and coke,
In nine months pain and joy; she's quite of a joke.
Valentine's day could have been better but you dare,
A name Valentino could've been your worst nightmare;
So you thought February thirteen is a lot wiser
Of choosing us as your parents; Kevin is much nicer.
Everyday, we watch you grow, walk, and play,
And we thought of your being alone is lonely;
Eighteen months thereafter is another baby,
A premature born named Kyle Wesley.
For a princess, it's a try but a condom got applied,
‘Cause mommy says: "two is enough to drive me crazy; "
Then, all of a sudden, a tubal ligation came up in her mind,
But what can I say, it's her choice; it's her body.
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Little Songbird
A little songbird sang
from a treetop high.
It sang for blue skies
for within to fly.
It sang out its message
at the first rays
of the dawning day.
It also sang for peace and love
within a world filled with unrest.
It sang a joyous message
for all those who wanted to hear
that little songbird
that sang in a treetop high.
13 January 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Day Of The Locusts
Oh, the benches were stained with tears and perspiration,
The birdies were flying from tree to tree.
There was little to say, there was no conversation
As I stepped to the stage to pick up my degree.
And the locusts sang off in the distance,
Yeah, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
Oh, the locusts sang off in the distance,
Yeah, the locusts sang and they were singing for me.
I glanced into the chamber where the judges were talking,
Darkness was everywhere, it smelled like a tomb.
I was ready to leave, I was already walkin,
But the next time I looked there was light in the room.
And the locusts sang, yeah, it give me a chill,
Oh, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
Oh, the locusts sang their high whining trill,
Yeah, the locusts sang and they were singing for me.
Outside of the gates the trucks were unloadin,
The weather was hot, a-nearly 90 degrees.
The man standin next to me, his head was exploding,
Well, I was prayin the pieces wouldnt fall on me.
Yeah, the locusts sang off in the distance,
Yeah, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
Oh, the locusts sang off in the distance,
And the locusts sang and they were singing for me.
I put down my robe, picked up my diploma,
Took hold of my sweetheart and away we did drive,
Straight for the hills, the black hills of dakota,
Sure was glad to get out of there alive.
And the locusts sang, well, it give me a chill,
Yeah, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
And the locusts sang with a high whinin trill,
Yeah, the locusts sang and they was singing for me,
Singing for me, well, singing for me.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I woke up to a lullaby
I woke up to a lullaby
The birds sang a song for me
They sang their hearts out all the while
Dancing on the maple tree
Each bird sang a different song
That melted into one
A song full of promises
For the day that’s just begun
They sang of sorrow
Of happiness and mirth
The sang of marriage
And of birth
They sang of people laughing
And of them crying
They sang of sickness
They sang of dying
This little song
They sang for me
Made me think
Made me free
A Harvest Song
THE noon was as a crystal bowl
The red wine mantled through;
Around it like a Viking's beard
The red-gold hazes blew,
As tho' he quaffed the ruddy draught
While swift his galley flew.
This mighty Viking was the Night;
He sailed about the earth,
And called the merry harvest-time
To sing him songs of mirth;
And all on earth or in the sea
To melody gave birth.
The valleys of the earth were full
To rocky lip and brim
With golden grain that shone and sang
When woods were still and dim,
A little song from sheaf to sheaf-
Sweet Plenty's cradle-hymn.
O gallant were the high tree-tops,
And gay the strain they sang!
And cheerfully the moon-lit hills
Their echo-music rang!
And what so proud and what so loud
As was the ocean's clang!
But O the little humming song
That sang among the sheaves!
'Twas grander than the airy march
That rattled thro' the leaves,
And prouder, louder, than the deep,
Bold clanging of the waves:
'The lives of men, the lives of men
With every sheaf are bound!
We are the blessing which annuls
The curse upon the ground!
And he who reaps the Golden Grain
The Golden Love hath found.'
poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Sing Last / Not For Tears
We've been told lies.
We've been herded around
Taken for rides, told that this is the one
We've learned all the steps and where do they lead
Right back to zero or not far I believe
Making history as we open our eyes
And no one's quite sure so we... We improvise
And wherever it leads us is wherever we'll go
I'd dance forever if they'd let me, you know
Wearing our hair up in anger we cry
The revolutions dead it went out in style
The children are learning much faster than we
Soon they'll be older but then again, so will we
Time has come for each of us to decide
To follow blindly or to step out of line
The party is over it has been for years
Let's use the water to wash up, not for tears
Seems such a pity
It seemed we had the same dream
And thinking of things past
You sang first I sang last
You sang first I sang last
You sang first I sang last
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Adam Raised A Cain
In the summer that I was baptized my father held me to his side
As they put me to the water he said how on that day I cried
We were prisoners of love a love in chains
He was standin in the door I was standin in the rain
With the same hot blood burning in our veins
Adam raised a cain
All of the old faces ask you why youre back
They fit you with position and the keys to your daddys cadillac
In the darkness of your room your mother calls you by your true name
You remember the faces the places the names
You know its never over its relentless as the rain
Adam raised a cain
In the Bible cain slew abel and east of eden he was cast
Youre born into this life paying for the sins of somebody elses past
Daddy worked his whole life for nothing but the pain
Now he walks these empty rooms looking for something to blame
You inherit the sins you inherit the flames
Adam raised a cain
Lost but not forgotten from the dark heart of a dream
Adam raised a cain
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bo-beh-o-bi Sang The Lips
Bo-beh-o-bi, sang the lips,
Veh-eh-o-mi, sang the glances,
Pi-eh-eh-o, sang the brows,
Li-eh-eh-ey, sang the visage,
Gzi-gzi-gzeh-o, sang the chain.
Thus on a canvas of some correspondences
Beyond dimension lived the face.
poem by Velimir Khlebnikov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cain and Abel
Western Version
Cain and Abel were brothers born.
(Koop-la! Come along, cows!)
One raised cattle and one raised corn.
(Koop-la! Come along! Co-hoe!)
And Cain he farmed by the river-side,
So he did not care how much it dried.
For he banked, and he sluiced, and he ditched and he led
(And the Corn don't care for the Horn)--
A-half Euphrates out of her bed
To water his dam' Corn!
But Abel herded out on the plains
Where you have to go by the dams and rains.
It happened, after a three-year drought,
The wells, and the springs, and the dams gave out.
The Herd-bulls came to Cain's new house
(They wanted water so!--)
With the hot red Sun between their brows,
Sayin' "Give us water for our pore cows!"
But Cain he told 'em--"No!"
The Cows they came to Cain's big house
With the cold white Moon between their brows,
Sayin' "Give some water to us pore cows!"
But Cain he told 'em--"No?"
The li'l Calves came to Cain's fine house
With the Evenin' Star between their brows,
Sayin' "'Give us water an' we'll be cows."
But Cain he told 'em--"No!"
The Herd-bulls led 'em back again,
An' Abel went an' said to Cain: --
"Oh sell me water, my brother dear,
Or there will be no beef this year."
And Cain he answered--"No! "
"Then draw your hatches, my brother true,
An' let a little water through."
But Cain he answered: -"No!
"My dams are tight an' my ditches are sound,
An' not a drop goes through or round
Till she's done her duty by the Corn.
"I will not sell, an' I will not draw,
An' if you breach, I'll have the Law,
As sure as you are borne! "
Then Abel took his best bull-goad,
An' holed a dyke on the Eden road.
He opened her up with foot an' hand,
An' let Euphrates loose on the land.
He spilled Euphrates out on the plain,
So's all his cattle could drink again.
Then Cain he saw what Abel done--
But, in those days, there was no Gun!
So he made him a club of a hickory-limb,
An' halted Abel an' said to him: --
"I did not sell an' I did not draw,
An' now you've breached I'll have the Law.
"You ride abroad in your hat and spurs,
Hell-hoofin' over my cucumbers!
"You pray to the Lord to send you luck
An' you loose your steers in my garden-truck:
"An' now you're bust, as you ought to be,
You can keep on prayin' but not to me!"
Then Abel saw it meant the life;
But, in those days, there was no Knife:
So he up with his big bull-goad instead,
But--Cain hit first and dropped him dead!
The Herd-bulls ran when they smelt the blood,
An' horned an' pawed in that Red Mud.
The Calves they bawled, and the Steers they milled,
Because it was the First Man Killed;
An' the whole Herd broke for the Land of Nod,
An' Cain was left to be judged by God!
But, seein' all he had had to bear,
I never could call the Judgment fair!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Cain And Abel
When Adam fell he quickly lost
God's image, which he once possessed:
See All our nature since could boast
In Cain, his first-born Son, expressed!
The sacrifice the Lord ordained
In type of the Redeemer's blood,
Self-righteous reas'ning Cain disdained,
And thought his own first-fruits as good.
Yet rage and envy filled his mind,
When, with a fallen, downcast look,
He saw his brother favor find,
Who God's appointed method took.
By Cain's own hand, good Abel died,
Because the Lord approved his faith;
And, when his blood for vengeance cried,
He vainly thought to hide his death.
Such was the wicked murd'rer Cain,
And such by nature still are we,
Until by grace we're born again,
Malicious, blind and proud, as he.
Like him the way of grace we slight,
And in our own devices trust;
Call evil good, and darkness light,
And hate and persecute the just.
The saints, in every age and place,
Have found this history fulfilled;
The numbers all our thoughts surpass
Of Abels, whom the Cains have killed!
Thus Jesus fell - but O! his blood
Far better things than Abel's cries:
Obtains his murd'rers peace with God,
And gains them mansions in the skies.
poem by John Newton
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Recollection - First Poetic Impulse
my first poetic impulse
was in my pre school days
i must have been only four
years old lying sweet on the
kitchen floor one fine morning
sucking on my milk bottle
out on the tip of a pointed roof
a magpie had gathered itself
comfortably and started singing
its heart out to the sun just beginning
to warm up the new day
its song was edged like the roof
pointed here and there
in the rhythm and fractured tone
of a disconcerted soul
complaining all the world's
injustices to the heavens
like a chirpy woman crying mad about
poor treatments of her in laws
it sang for so long i was
provoked to ask the bird
what it was pining all about
about the black and white
of its days?
i asked and it sang
i asked and it sang
beak pointed to the sky
i asked and it sang
i asked and it sang
until it thought it was done
and flew away without a note
leaving a trail of silence and
melancholy on an empty
roof, the morning and -
an unrequited heart
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Thanksgiving
When first in ancient time, from Jubal's tongue
The tuneful anthem filled the morning air,
To sacred hymnings and elysian song
His music-breathing sehll the minstrel woke.
Devotion breathed aloud from every chord:
The voice of praise was heard in every tone,
And prayer and thanks to Him, the Eternal One,
To Him, that with bright inspiration touched
The high and gifted lyre of heavenly song,
And warmed the soul with new vitality.
A stirring energy through Nature breathed:
The voice of adoration from her broke,
Swelling aloud in every breeze, and heard
Long in the sullen waterfall, what time
Soft Spring or hoary Autumn threw on earth
Its bloom or blighting; when the summer smiled;
Or winter o'er the year's sepulcher mourned.
The Deity was there; a nameless spirit
Moved in the breasts of men to do him homage;
And when the morning smiled, or evening pale
Hung weeping o'er the melancholy urn,
They came beneath the broad, o'erarching trees,
And in their tremulous shadow worshipped oft,
Where pale the vine clung round their simple altars,
And gray moss mantling hung. Above was heard
The melody of winds, breathed out as the green trees
Bowed to their quivering touch in living beauty;
And birds sang forth their cheerful hymns. Below,
The bright and widely wandering rivulet
Struggled and gushed amongst the tangled roots
That choked its reedy fountain, and dark rocks
Worn smooth by the constant current. Even there
The listless wave, that stole with mellow voice
Where reeds grew rank on the rushy-fringed brink,
And the green sedge bent to the wandering wind,
Sang with a cheerful song of sweet tranquillity.
Men felt the heavenly influence; and it stole
Like balm into their hearts, till all was peace:
And even the air they breathed, the light they saw,
Became religion; for the ethereal spirit
That to soft music wakes the chords of feeling,
And mellows everything to beauty, moved
With cheering energy within their breasts
And made all holy there, for all was love.
The morning stars, that sweetly sang together;
The moon, that hung at night in the mid-sky:
Dayspring and eventide; and all the fair
And beautiful forms of nature, had a voice
Of eloquent worship. Ocean, with its tides
Selling and deep, where low the infant storm
Hung on his dun, dark cloud, and heavily beat
The pulses of the sea, sent forth a voice
Of awful adoration to the spirit
That, wrapt in darkness, moved upon its face.
And when the bow of evening arched the east,
Or, in the moonlight pale, the curling wave
Kissed with a sweet embrace the sea-worn beach,
And soft the song of winds came o'er the waters,
The mingled melody of wind and wave
Touched like a heavenly anthem on the ear;
For it arose a tuneful hymn of worship.
And have our hearts grown cold? Are there on earth
No pure reflections caught from heavnly light?
Have our mute lips no hymn, our souls no song?
Let him thatin the summer-day of youth
Keeps pure the holy fount of youthful feeling,
And him that in the nightfall of his years
Lies down in his last sleep, and shuts in peace
His dim, pale eyes on life's short wayfaring,
Praise Him that rules the destiny of man.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On The Nine Eleven
What deed did you do? What gain did you gain?
O! The sons Cain, the sons of Cain, the sons of Cain.
Why did you cause on the earth perpetual pain?
O! The sons Cain, the sons of Cain, the sons of Cain.
Why did you push humanity into the dismal zone?
Whom did you obey? What goals were you shown?
Alas! You would have the palpitating human hearts,
And have imagined the cumbersome gagging groan.
Who educated you with so-called divine education?
Who infused in your blood, and heart’s palpitation,
The poison, the venom, the fire and bursting flames;
That you wreaked vengeance on Adam’s generation.
You crashed; you stroke planes in the back of Towers,
Only to be known, the suiciders, the killers of flowers,
Would that! You were trained, you were only taught;
How to exert influence of love with wholesome powers.
Would that! You have felt ponderous pangs of the spot,
How working men, women and children aspiring a lot,
Were soon crushed and crashed, pounded and pestled,
Who a slight ago moved, cherishing hopes in blood hot.
The cries subdued, suppressed in the hearts squeezed,
How sooner the paragons of beauty to ashes decreased!
With them were crippled crushed, desires and dreams,
Such a spectrum could please only the minds diseased.
We are children of the same Father, the same Mother;
And have been sent on the beautified Earth to gather,
Flowers, to seed pills of happiness, not of the thorns,
Only love, peace, tolerance and harmony to bother.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And I like the way Cain writes his women. Very strong. They're kind of lusty, they know what they want, they're full of conviction. Cain's women are sexual.
quote by Pia Zadora
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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