Sonnet XIII. To La Fayette
As when far off the warbled strains are heard
That soar on Morning's wing the vales among,
Within his cage th' imprisoned matin bird
Swells the full chorus with a generous song:
He bathes no pinion in the dewy light,
No Father's joy, no Lover's bliss he shares,
Yet still the rising radiance cheers his sight--
His Fellows' freedom soothes the Captive's cares!
Thou, Fayette! who didst wake with startling voice
Life's better Sun from that long wintry night,
Thus in thy Country's triumphs shalt rejoice
And mock with raptures high the dungeon's might:
For lo! the morning struggles into day,
And Slavery's spectres shriek and vanish from the ray!
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Related quotes
The lark confinèd in his cage
The lark confinèd in his cage,
And captive in his wing,
Though fluttering with imprisoned rage,
Forbeareth not to sing.
But still the strain, though loud and long,
Is but the mock of mirth,
Not that dawn-dewy nuptial song
That weddeth Heaven with Earth.
Voice that in freedom seems so soft,
Fettered, sounds harsh and rough.
Listen! He shrilleth far too oft,
Nor faltereth half enough.
And I, still feebler it not free,
Do hourly more and more
Grow silent in captivity,
And, if I sing, must soar.
And as the lark's free carol floats
High on a sea of sound,
So let me fling my random notes
To ripple round and round.
Hark! now he shakes the towering skies,
A carillon of light,
Then dwindleth to a faint surmise,
Still singing out of sight.
And, though in clearest light arrayed
The Poet's song should shine,
Sometimes his far-off voice will fade
Into the dim divine.
Then we with following ear and heart
Should listen to the end,
Though we descry may but in part,
And dimly apprehend.
Lo! soon he quits his heavenly quest,
Slow-carolling into sight,
Then, quavering downward, strikes his nest,
Earthward aerolite.
So doubt not, dear, that if I soar
Where none longwhile may dwell,
Though Heaven at times may be my home,
Home is my Heaven as well.
poem by Alfred Austin
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Thy days are done
I
Thy days are done—thy fame begun—
Thy country's strains record
The triumphs of her chosen Son—
The slaughter of his sword—
The deeds he did—the fields he won—
The freedom he restored!
II
Though thou art fall'n—while we are free
Thou shalt not taste of death—
The generous blood that flow'd from thee
Disdain'd to sink beneath:
Within our veins its currents be—
Thy spirit on our breath!
III
Thy name—our charging hosts along,
Shall be the battle-word—
Thy fall—the theme of choral song
From virgin voices pour'd,
To weep—would do thy glory wrong—
Thou shalt not be deplored!
poem by Byron from The Hebrew Melodies (1815)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Father
Father, blessed father,
Its morning again.
I give you, father, myself, father,
Continue your plan.
I know together we can climb mountains in the sky.
No one can stop us when Im standing by your side.
Troubles knocking here again;
Ill tell him jesus has me by his hand.
Hell walk me through.
Father, loving father,
Create in me
A pure love, father, your love, father,
Instill it in me.
I remember the nights Ive cried for you;
Now I only have to die for you;
Thank you, lord, youve made it clear just for me.
I see the light;
Its burning out the night.
Oh, father,
Its morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chorale for M' lady Penny
The black bird sweetly tunes his throat.
A stream of liquid notes which float.
As if suspended somewhere
in between fact and fantasy.
Thus starts the morning symphony
The throstle warbles his reply,
the skylark joins in happily
from his position in the sky.
Each song bird now will raise its voice
in interweaving melody.
To demonstrate that they rejoice
because the morning brings release
from the terrors of the night.
Their morning chorus My delight.
27-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Sky-Lark
THE Sky-lark, when the dews of morn
Hang tremulous on flower and thorn,
And violets round his nest exhale
Their fragrance on the early gale,
To the first sunbeam spreads his wings,
Buoyant with joy, and soars, and sings.
He rests not on the leafy spray,
To warble his exulting lay,
But high above the morning cloud
Mounts in triumphant freedom proud,
And swells, when nearest to the sky,
His notes of sweetest ecstacy.
Thus, my Creator! thus the more
My spirit's wing to Thee can soar,
The more she triumphs to behold
Thy love in all thy works unfold,
And bids her hymns of rapture be
Most glad, when rising most to Thee!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Death Chant
Viewless essence, thin and bare,
Well nigh melted into air,
Still with fondness hovering near
The earthly form thou once didst wear,
Pause upon thy pinion's flight;
Be thy course to left or right,
Be thou doomed to soar or sink,
Pause upon the awful brink.
To avenge the deed expelling
Thee untimely from thy dwelling,
Mystic force thou shalt retain
O'er the blood and o'er the brain.
When the form thou shalt espy
That darken'd on thy closing eye,
When the footstep thou shalt hear
That thrill'd upon thy dying ear,
Then strange sympathies shall wake,
The flesh shall thrill, the nerves shall quake,
The wounds renew their clotter'd flood,
And every drop cry blood for blood!
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Free Flight for Friend Thad
To celebrate freedom a bird
will soar on high triumphantly
Ensuring that it will be heard
singing in freedom joyfully.
Freed from its cage by accident
the door left open by mistake.
Turned loose to make its first ascent.
Alas the last that it will make.
Because it is so different
the wild birds will attack on sight
to kill this stranger their intent
Without remorse as they think right
The song bird dies a tragedy
but better than captivity.
2-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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oO-Morning Sun-Oo
The night's calm darkness,
Is washed away with the morning light,
The light strong enough to wake up a highness,
The Sun high in the sky.
The warmth, The light,
It's all here with the Morning Sun.
The joy, the sight,
It's here with the Morning Sun.
Then the sun settles over field and sheep,
The Moon following behind.
And when the Morning light has went to sleep,
The Night and the Moon have come.
Different Attitudes.
A cascade of bird song descends.
From a songster in the sky.
One of our small feathered friends
Who greets the morning joyously.
When she takes wing and starts to sing.
She lifts my heart and makes me smile
This feather songstress of the sky.
Displays her own distinctive style.
A tiny bird with a sweet voice.
She flies aloft reminding us
That we have reason to rejoice.
When we hear the morning chorus.
But humans rise reluctantly
and greet the day begrudgingly.
Friday,09 March 2012/
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Sparrow's Fall
Too frail to soar -- a feeble thing --
It fell to earth with fluttering wing;
But God, who watches over all,
Beheld that little sparrow's fall.
'Twas not a bird with plumage gay,
Filling the air with its morning lay;
'Twas not an eagle bold and strong,
Borne on the tempest's wing along.
Only a brown and weesome thing,
With drooping head and listless wing;
It could not drift beyond His sight
Who marshals the splendid stars of night.
Its dying chirp fell on His ears,
Who tunes the music of the spheres,
Who hears the hungry lion's call,
And spreads a table for us all.
Its mission of song at last is done,
No more will it greet the rising sun;
That tiny bird has found a rest
More calm than its mother's downy breast
Oh, restless heart, learn thou to trust
In God, so tender, strong and just;
In whose love and mercy everywhere
His humblest children have a share.
If in love He numbers ev'ry hair,
Whether the strands be dark or fair,
Shall we not learn to calmly rest,
Like children, on our Father's breast?
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Cries from the Cage!
We are but the captive Birds
Craving for consoling words
Our own Garden,
The orchard of Heaven
Is made our cage
The perennial prison,
for nothing
but
a fake reason;
The glowing,
rising sun is captive,
imprisoned are the moon and stars.
You gave us food
and things to eat,
but cut the feathers,
bound the feet.
Our soil is pure
like a martyr's blood.
Our feelings are in deadly flood.
Round the clock we raise this slogan:
freedom, freedom-
It's a cry of souls imprisoned,
But souls awakened,
Hoping that one day
We'll be able
To tear down the veil
between our cry and the sky...
poem by Shahzia Batool
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Didst Thou Rejoice?
Didst thou rejoice because the day was fair,—
Because, in orient splendor newly dressed,
On flowering glebe and bloomless mountain-crest
The sun complacent smiled? Ah! didst thou
dare
The careless rapture of that bird to share
Which, soaring toward the dawn from dewy nest,
Hailed it with song? From Ocean's treacherous
breast
Didst borrow the repose mild-mirrored there?
Thou foolish heart! Behold! the light is spent;
Rude thunders shake the crags; songs timorous
cease;
Lo! with what moan and mutinous lament
Ocean his pent-up passions doth release!
O thou who seekest sure and fixed content,
Search in thy soul: there find some source of
peace.
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Nightingale
(ferry/manzanera)
Before the morning comes, will I hear your song
Come little nightingale, I wont be here for long
When youre up there flying, do you care
If theres no one else around?
When your lover leaves you in the air
Do you waver, do you fall?
Now while the moon is high
Shall we, nightingale,
Duet all through the night
A pair of souls for sale
Stars cluster glistening
Captive till the dawn
Patiently listening
Theyve heard it all before
Should I stay here or should I go?
I couldnt bear to be alone
Was it really love I saw?
Oh, now Ill never know
What is this I hear?
I recognise that song
Sweet little nightingale I knew youd come along
Soon when the morning comes.
We will both be gone
So sing pretty nightingale
Lead, Ill follow on.
song performed by by Roxy Music
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anthony Benezet
Friend of the Afric! friend of the oppress'd!
Thou who wert cradled in a far-off clime,
Where bigotry and tyranny unbless'd,
With gory hand defaced the page of time;
Wert thou forth driven by their stern control,
An infant fugitive across the deep,
To teach, in after years, thy pitying soul
O'er all the Afric's causeless wrongs to weep,
Where slavery's bitter tears the flag of freedom steep?
And thou didst nobly plead for them; thy heart,
Thrilling to all the holy sympathies,
Of natural brotherhood, wept, to see the mart
Of commerce, with its human merchandize,
So crowded and polluted, and thy voice,
With the clear trumpet tones of God's own word,
Rang through the guilty crowd, until no choice
Was left them but to tremble as they heard,
Or bind with treble seal the feelings thou hadst stirr'd.
The ears of princes heard thee; and the wise,
Touch'd by the mastery of thy earnestness,
Bade their train'd spirits for a while to rise
From their profound research, and learn to bless
Thy generous efforts, and with kindred zeal,
Led on by thee in duty's path to move;
And kindled by thy sacred ardour, feel,
Like thee, that overflowing gush of love,
That lifts man's selfish heart all narrow thoughts above.
The fetters of the slave are still unbroken;
But there will come, perchance, ere long, a day,
When by their lips who wrong'd him, shall be spoken
The fiat of his freedom;—and the ray
Of intellectual light shall radiance pour
On minds o'er which the gloom of darkness hung
In treble folds impervious before,
By tyrants’ hands around them rudely flung,
To bind the chains that to both limb and spirit clung.
Then shall their children learn to speak thy name,
With the full heart of gratitude, and know
What thou hast done for them; and while they frame
That history for their infants’ ears, may grow
Perchance, in their own hearts, the likeness strong
Of thy bright virtues; so thou still shalt be,
Even in thy sepulchre, their friend;—and long
Shall those who love mankind, remember thee,
Thou noble friend of those who pined in slavery
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In The Morning
[Chorus:]
In the morning you'll be alright
In the morning the sun's gonna shine
In the morning no clouds in the sky
When it's dark in your light just wait for the
daylight
Someone tell me what's wrong
Why my nights last so long
It's gettin' hard to believe
You can hear me
Then you give me a sign
That You heard me pray
You let me know
This dark night won't last always
[Chorus]
So many ups and downs
You don't know where to start
So many nights you cried
Life was breakin' your heart
It may seem real hard
Ain't no help in sight
But don't you worry
About it tonight 'cause
[Chorus]
There's gonna be a day
It's gonna get cloudy
You can't see clear {You can't see clearly
song performed by by Mary Mary from Incredible
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thought Of A Briton On The Subjugation Of Switzerland
TWO Voices are there; one is of the sea,
One of the mountains; each a mighty Voice:
In both from age to age thou didst rejoice,
They were thy chosen music, Liberty!
There came a Tyrant, and with holy glee
Thou fought'st against him; but hast vainly striven:
Thou from thy Alpine holds at length art driven,
Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.
Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft:
Then cleave, O cleave to that which still is left;
For, high-souled Maid, what sorrow would it be
That Mountain floods should thunder as before,
And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore,
And neither awful Voice be heard by thee!
poem by William Wordsworth
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We Can Make The Morning
(words & music by j. ramsey)
I just thought I heard a small voice crying
Looked again and saw that it was me
I feel like a little boy denying
That he fears the night cause he cant see
Then a larger thought said stop your crying
Dont be scared to search cause you may find
Fate holds out a candle for your footsteps
Time rolls back the shadows of your mind
Its a long, long lonely night
You can make the morning if you try
Its a long, long lonely night
Oh, we can make the morning if we try
Girl, we can make the morning you and i
Together, together, together
Loneliness is darkness first companion
Spend the night alone and faith may bend
Share it all and see how fear starts fading
Chase away the shadows with a friend
Dawns elusive light is just beginning
Now the day can push away the night
Dreams can make the sun feel much brighter
Hope creates a foothold for the light
Its a long, long lonely night
We can make the morning if we try
Its a long, long lonely night
We can make the morning if we try
Girl, we can make the morning you and i, oh
Together
Its a long, long lonely night
We can make the morning if we try
Its a long, long lonely night
We can make the morning if we try
Its a long, long lonely night
We can make the morning if we try
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk
A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk
A rose-bud, by my early walk
Adown a corn-enclosèd bawk,
Sae gently bent its thorny stalk,
All on a dewy morning.
Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled,
In a' its crimson glory spread,
And drooping rich the dewy head,
It scents the early morning.
Within the bush her covert nest
A little linnet fondly prest;
The dew sat chilly on her breast,
Sae early in the morning.
She soon shall see her tender brood,
The pride, the pleasure o' the wood,
Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd,
Awauk the early morning.
So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair,
On trembling string or vocal air,
Shall sweetly pay the tender care
That tents thy early morning!
So thou, sweet rose-bud, young and gay,
Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day,
And bless the parent's evening ray
That watch'd thy early morning!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Your Voice
Speak to me my darling.
Let me hear your voice.
It always soothes my beating heart
and says to me 'Rejoice.'
The tone it has quiets me
and lulls me into bliss.
Sweet happiness is mine to keep
like a lingering kiss.
There are no other voices for me
that make me want to sing
a song of love for all to hear,
a song to take on wing.
Let the world know how I feel
when you speak to me.
Near or far, wherever you are
your voice will stay with me.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Bird Of Hope
Soar not too high, O bird of Hope!
Because the skies are fair;
The tempest may come on apace
And overcome thee there.
When far above the mountain tops
Thou soarest, over all –
If, then, the storm should press thee back,
How great would be thy fall!
And thou wouldst lie here at my feet,
A poor and lifeless thing, -
A torn and bleeding birdling,
With limp and broken wing.
Sing not too loud, O bird of Hope!
Because the day is bright;
The sunshine cannot always last –
The morn precedes the night.
And if thy song is of the day,
Then when the day grows dim,
Forlorn and voiceless thou wouldst sit
Among the shadows grim.
Oh! I would have thee soar and sing,
But not too high, or loud,
Remembering that day meets night –
The brilliant sun the cloud.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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