Afoot
Comes the lure of green things growing,
Comes the call of waters flowing -
And the wayfarer desire
Moves and wakes and would be going.
Hark the migrant hosts of June
Marching nearer noon by noon!
Hark the gossip of the grasses
Bivouacked beneath the moon!
Long the quest and far the ending
When my wayfarer is wending -
When desire is once afoot,
Doom behind and dream attending!
In his ears the phantom chime
Of incommunicable rhyme,
He shall chase the fleeting camp-fires
Of the Bedouins of Time.
Farer by uncharted ways,
Dumb as death to plaint or praise,
Unreturning he shall journey,
Fellow to the nights and days;
Till upon the outer bar
Stilled the moaning currents are,
Till the flame achieves the zenith,
Till the moth attains the star,
Till through laughter and through tears
Fair the final peace appears,
And about the watered pastures
Sink to sleep the nomad years!
poem by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Rower's Chant
ROW till the land dip 'neath
The sea from view.
Row till a land peep up,
A home for you.
Row till the mast sing songs
Welcome and sweet,
Row till the waves, outstripped,
Give up, dead beat.
Row till the sea-nymphs rise
To ask you why
Rowing you tarry not
To hear them sigh.
Row till the stars grow bright
Like certain eyes.
Row till the noon be high
As hopes you prize.
Row till you harbour in
All longing's port.
Row till you find all things
For which you sought.
poem by Thomas Sturge Moore
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Rowers Chant
Row till the land dip 'neath
The sea from view.
Row till a land peep up,
A home for you.
Row till the mast sing songs
Welcome and sweet.
Row till the waves, out-stripped,
Give up dead beat.
Row till the sea-nymphs rise
To ask you why
Rowing you tarry not
To hear them sigh.
Row till the stars grow bright
Like certain eyes.
Row till the noon be high
As hopes you prize.
Row till you harbour in
All longing's port.
Row till you find all things
For which you sought.
poem by Thomas Sturge Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love You 'till Tuesday (Top Gear, 24.12.67)
Just look through your window, look who sits outside
Little me is waiting, standing through the night
When you walk out through your door I'll wave my flag and shout
Ohh, beautiful baby
My burning desire started on Sunday
Give me your heart and I'll love you till Tuesday
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Who's that hiding in the apple tree, clinging to a branch
Don't be afraid it's only me, hoping for a little romance
If you lie beneath my shade, I'll keep you nice and cool
Ohh, beautiful baby
I was very lonely till I met you on Sunday
My passion's never-ending and I'll love you till Tuesday
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Let the wind blow through your hair, be nice to the big blue sea
Don't be afraid of the man in the moon, because it's only me
I shall always watch you until my love runs dry
Ohh, beautiful baby
My heart's a flame, I'll love you till Tuesday
My head's in a whirl and I'll love you till Tuesday
Love, love, love, love you till Tuesday
Love, love, love, love you till Tuesday
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Well, I might stretch it till Wednesday
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hope The Hornblower
'Hark ye, hark to the winding horn;
Sluggards, awake, and front the morn!
Hark ye, hark to the winding horn;
The sun's on meadow and mill.
Follow me, hearts that love the chase;
Follow me, feet that keep the pace:
Stirrup to stirrup we ride, we ride,
We ride by moor and hill.'
Huntsman, huntsman, whither away?
What is the quarry afoot to-day?
Huntsman, huntsman, whither away,
And what the game ye kill?
Is it the deer, that men may dine?
Is it the wolf that tears the kine?
What is the race ye ride, ye ride,
Ye ride by moor and hill?
'Ask not yet till the day be dead
What is the game that's forward fled,
Ask not yet till the day be dead
The game we follow still.
An echo it may be, floating past;
A shadow it may be, fading fast:
Shadow or echo, we ride, we ride,
We ride by moor and hill'
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Its Not A Song
Day turns to night, and I turn into bed.
Cant get to sleep; somethings in my head.
Pacing the floor, I try to force a rhyme.
Why do I fear this time?
Its not a song till it touches your heart.
Its not a song till it tears you apart.
After whats left of whats right and whats wrong,
Till it gets through to you,
Its not a song.
Now close your eyes; look into your hand.
What do you see?
Life is our song, to give and learn to take.
Time will not wait.
Oh, wont you please come dance,
While the songs still playing,
Wont be long till the silence falls.
Its not a song till it touches your heart. (its not a song.)
Its not a song till it tears you apart.
After whats left of whats right and whats wrong,
Till it gets through to you,
Its not a song.
Its not a song till it touches your heart. (its not a song.)
Its not a song till it tears you apart.
After whats left of whats right and whats wrong,
Till it gets through to you,
Its not a song.
Its not a song till it touches your heart. (its not a song.)
Its not a song till it tears you apart.
After whats left of whats right and whats wrong,
Till it gets through to you,
Its not a song.
Its not a song till it touches your heart. (its not a song.)
Its not a song till it tears you apart.
After whats left of whats right and whats wrong,
Till it gets through to you,
Its not a song.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love You Till Tuesday
Just look through your window, look who sits outside
Little me is waiting, standing through the night
When you walk out through your door Ill wave my flag and shout
Ohh, beautiful baby
My burning desire started on sunday
Give me your heart and Ill love you till tuesday
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Whos that hiding in the apple tree, clinging to a branch
Dont be afraid its only me, hoping for a little romance
If you lie beneath my shade, Ill keep you nice and cool
Ohh, beautiful baby
I was very lonely till I met you on sunday
My passions never-ending and Ill love you till tuesday
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Let the wind blow through your hair, be nice to the big blue sea
Dont be afraid of the man in the moon, because its only me
I shall always watch you until my love runs dry
Ohh, beautiful baby
My hearts a flame, Ill love you till tuesday
My heads in a whirl and Ill love you till tuesday
Love, love, love, love you till tuesday
Love, love, love, love you till tuesday
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Da da da dum
Well, I might stretch it till wednesday
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Orpheus I am, Come from the Deeps Below
Orpheus I am, come from the deeps below,
To thee, fond man, the plagues of love to show.
To the fair fields where loves eternal dwell
There's none that come, but first they pass through hell:
Hark, and beware! unless thou hast loved, ever
Beloved again, thou shalt see those joys never.
Hark how they groan that died despairing!
Oh, take heed, then!
Hark how they howl for over-daring!
All these were men.
They that be fools, and die for fame,
They lose their name;
And they that bleed,
Hark how they speed!
Now in cold frosts, now scorching fires
They sit, and curse their lost desires;
Nor shall these souls be free from pains and fears,
Till women waft them over in their tears.
poem by John Fletcher
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'Til Love Comes Again
White light shadows gather around my door
They find me dreaming all alone once more
Memories come around to haunt my sleepless sounds
Now's the time I must be strong
I believe it won't be long
Chorus:
Till love comes again
To end these lonely nights
Till love comes again
To drive these tears I cry
It's darkest just before the dawn
And I'll just keep holding on
Till then
Till love comes again
Somewhere someone feels the way I do
And like me they dream of the love that's true
One day I'll look into his eyes I know the moment's right
Until then I'll just wait
No matter how long it might take
Repeat Chorus
Oh until then
Till love comes again
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song of the Pilgrims, The
(Halted around the fire by night, after moon-set, they sing this beneath the trees.)
What light of unremembered skies
Hast thou relumed within our eyes,
Thou whom we seek, whom we shall find? . . .
A certain odour on the wind,
Thy hidden face beyond the west,
These things have called us; on a quest
Older than any road we trod,
More endless than desire. . . .
Far God,
Sigh with thy cruel voice, that fills
The soul with longing for dim hills
And faint horizons! For there come
Grey moments of the antient dumb
Sickness of travel, when no song
Can cheer us; but the way seems long;
And one remembers. . . .
Ah! the beat
Of weary unreturning feet,
And songs of pilgrims unreturning! . . .
The fires we left are always burning
On the old shrines of home. Our kin
Have built them temples, and therein
Pray to the Gods we know; and dwell
In little houses lovable,
Being happy (we remember how!)
And peaceful even to death. . . .
O Thou,
God of all long desirous roaming,
Our hearts are sick of fruitless homing,
And crying after lost desire.
Hearten us onward! as with fire
Consuming dreams of other bliss.
The best Thou givest, giving this
Sufficient thing -- to travel still
Over the plain, beyond the hill,
Unhesitating through the shade,
Amid the silence unafraid,
Till, at some sudden turn, one sees
Against the black and muttering trees
Thine altar, wonderfully white,
Among the Forests of the Night.
poem by Rupert Brooke
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The Song of the Pilgrims
(Halted around the fire by night, after moon-set, they sing this beneath the trees.)
What light of unremembered skies
Hast thou relumed within our eyes,
Thou whom we seek, whom we shall find? . . .
A certain odour on the wind,
Thy hidden face beyond the west,
These things have called us; on a quest
Older than any road we trod,
More endless than desire. . . .
Far God,
Sigh with thy cruel voice, that fills
The soul with longing for dim hills
And faint horizons! For there come
Grey moments of the antient dumb
Sickness of travel, when no song
Can cheer us; but the way seems long;
And one remembers. . . .
Ah! the beat
Of weary unreturning feet,
And songs of pilgrims unreturning! . . .
The fires we left are always burning
On the old shrines of home. Our kin
Have built them temples, and therein
Pray to the Gods we know; and dwell
In little houses lovable,
Being happy (we remember how!)
And peaceful even to death. . . .
O Thou,
God of all long desirous roaming,
Our hearts are sick of fruitless homing,
And crying after lost desire.
Hearten us onward! as with fire
Consuming dreams of other bliss.
The best Thou givest, giving this
Sufficient thing - to travel still
Over the plain, beyond the hill,
Unhesitating through the shade,
Amid the silence unafraid,
Till, at some sudden turn, one sees
Against the black and muttering trees
Thine altar, wonderfully white,
Among the Forests of the Night.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1907)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Recessional
Now along the solemn heights
Fade the Autumn's altar-lights;
Down the great earth's glimmering chancel
Glide the days and nights.
Little kindred of the grass,
Like a shadow in a glass
Falls the dark and falls the stillness;
We must rise and pass.
We must rise and follow, wending
Where the nights and days have ending, --
Pass in order pale and slow
Unto sleep extending.
Little brothers of the clod,
Soul of fire and seed of sod,
We must fare into the silence
At the knees of God.
Little comrades of the sky,
Wing to wing we wander by,
Going, going, going, going,
Softly as a sigh.
Hark, the moving shapes confer,
Globe of dew and gossamer,
Fading and ephemeral spirits
In the dusk astir.
Moth and blossom, blade and bee,
Worlds must go as well as we,
In the long procession joining
Mount and star and sea.
Toward the shadowy brink we climb
Where the round year rolls sublime,
Rolls, and drops, and falls forever
In the vast of time.
Like a plummet plunging deep
Past the utmost reach of sleep,
Till remembrance has no longer
Care to laugh or weep.
poem by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
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Till Love Comes Again
(bog regan,ed hill)
White light shadows gather around my door
They find me dreaming all alone once more
Memories come around to haunt my sleepless sounds
Nows the time I must be strong
I believe it wont be long
Chorus:
Till love comes again
To end these lonely nights
Till love comes again
To drive these tears I cry
Its darkest just before the dawn
And Ill just keep holding on
Till then
Till love comes again
Somewhere someone feels the way I do
And like me they dream of the love thats true
One day Ill look into his eyes I know the moments right
Until then Ill just wait
No matter how long it might take
Repeat chorus
Oh until then
Till love comes again
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hit It
1st verse
Somebody said what are you doin down there
Trying to make me a living
All I want is to get my fair share
Im pleading but nobodys giving
Maybe Im wrong, and I dont see things clear
But I know how I feel after all the these years
Ill keep fighting the pain and the heartache and tears
Chorus
Then Ill push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Im going to push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Im going to push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
2nd verse
Looking up cause Ive got time to spare
Today the sun aint shining
Im still searching everywhere
For my cloud with the silver lining
People say that enough is enough
Turn my back on this thing put it down to bad luck
But the day I do that, then my life will be up
Chorus
So Ill push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Im going to push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Im going to push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life's Enigma
Life's enigma, I wonder what it's all about
Meaninglessly we expend evanescent days, in and out
Mortgaged to drudgery, in the name of duty
Slaves to denial, in the interest of propriety
Sadly, things we long most to do, we don't
Strangely, feelings we yearn most to express, we won't
Compulsion moves me to request this much
Freedom to enjoy pleasing things as such
Laughter, love and peace with loved ones
Great health till my end, with money in zillions
Time....endless time to prolong the pleasure
I find in my lover's arms, free of censure
My resolve is to strive till the end of my days
To see my life spent meaningfully, pursuing these ways
poem by Marilyn Odeon
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The Vineyard
At the eleventh hour he came,
But his wages were the same
As ours who all day long had trod
The wine-press of the Wrath of God.
When he shouldered through the lines
Of our cropped and mangled vines,
His unjaded eye could scan
How each hour had marked its man.
(Children of the morning-tide
With the hosts of noon died,
And our noon contingents lay
Dead with twilight's spent array.)
Since his back had felt no load ,
Virtue still in him abode;
So he swiftly made his own
Those last spoils we had not won.
We went home delivered thence,
Grudging him no recompense
Till he portioned praise of blame
To our works before he came.
Till he showed us for our good--
Deaf to mirth, and blind to scorn--
How we might have best withstood
Burdens that he had not born!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Find Myself
By eric clapton
We took the long way home, you held my hand,
The days so full of all the things we had planned.
We walked beyond the green, beyond the day.
We shared a dream that I let slip away.
I had to find myself.
I had to find myself.
No use looking for no one else,
cause Ill be lonely till I find myself.
You were the man who knew too much to say.
So many things that I learned came your way.
These things I know that I cant forget,
Deep in my heart, theyre a part of me yet.
They helped me find myself.
They helped me find myself.
No use looking for no one else,
cause Ill be lonely till I find myself.
Too many years rolled by without a word.
I tried to hide behind things that Id heard.
And now the truth is clear for all to see
That through it all, it was you believed in me.
You helped me find myself.
I had to find myself.
No use looking for no one else,
cause Ill be lonely till I find myself.
I got to find myself.
I got to find myself.
No use looking for no one else,
cause Ill be lonely till I find myself.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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'Till I Can Make It On My Own
I'll need time to get you off my mind
And I may sometimes bother you
Try to be in touch with you
Even ask too much of you
From time to time.
Now and then
Lord, you know I'll need a friend
Till I get used to losing you
Let me keep on using you
Till I can make it on my own.
I'll get by but no matter how I try
There'll be times you know I'll call
Chances are, my tears will fall
And I'll have no pride at all
From time to time.
But they say
Oh, there'll be a brighter day
But till then I lean on you
That's all I mean to do
Till I can make it on my own.
Surely, someday I'll look up
And see the morning sun
Without another lonely night behind me
Then I'll know I'm over you
And all my crying's done
No more hurting memories can find me.
But till then I lean on you
That's all I mean to do
Till I can make it on my own.
Lord, you know, I'm gonna need a friend
Till I get used to losing you
Let me keep on using you
Till I can make it on my own...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Tell The Sea
You are my reason to live All I own I would give
Just to have you adore me
Till the moon deserts the sky Till the all the seas run dry Till then I'll worship you
Till the tropic sun turns cold Till this young world grows old
My darling, I'll adore you
You are my reason to live All I own I would give
Just to have you adore me
Till the rivers flow upstream Till lovers cease to dream .Till then I'm yours, be mine
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In War
Fret the nonchalant noon
With your spleen
Or your gay brow,
For the motion of your spirit
Ever moves with these.
When day shall be too quiet,
Deaf to you
And your dumb smile,
Untuned air shall lap the stillness
In the old space for your voice-
The voice that once could mirror
Remote depths
Of moving being,
Stirred by responsive voices near,
Suddenly stilled for ever.
No ghost darkens the places
Dark to One ;
But my eyes dream,
And my heart is heavy to think
How it was heavy once.
In the old days when death Stalked the world
For the flower of men,
And the rose of beauty faded
And pined in the great gloom,
One day we dug a grave :
We were vexed
With the sun's heat.
We scanned the hooded dead :
At noon we sat and talked.
How death had kissed their eyes
Three dread noons since,
How human art won
The dark soul to flicker
Till it was lost again :
And we whom chance kept whole-
But haggard,
Spent-were charged
To make a place for them who knew
No pain in any place.
The good priest came to pray ;
Our ears half heard,
And half we thought
Of alien things, irrelevant ;
And the heat and thirst were great.
The good priest read : 'I heard .
Dimly my brain
Held words and lost. . . .
Sudden my blood ran cold. . . .
God ! God ! It could not be.
He read my brother's name ; I sank-
I clutched the priest.
They did not tell me it was he
Was killed three days ago.
What are the great sceptred dooms
To us, caught
In the wild wave
We break ourselves on them,
My brother, our hearts and years.
THE DEAD HEROES
Flame out, you glorious skies,
Welcome our brave;
Kiss their exultant eyes ;
Give what they gave.
Flash, mailed seraphim,
Your burning spears;
New days to outflame their dim
Heroic years.
Thrills their baptismal tread
The bright proud air ;
The embattled plumes outspread
Burn upwards there.
Flame out, flame out, 0 Song !
Star ring to star;
Strong as our hurt is strong
Our children are.
Their blood is England's heart ;
By their dead hands
It is their noble part
That England stands.
England-Time gave them thee;
They gave back this
To win Eternity
And claim God's kiss.
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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Till I Go Down
Till I go down
Till I go down
Till I go down
Im not gonna shut my eyes
Till I go down
Im not gonna shut my eyes
Ive already seen the lies
On the faces of the men of war
Leading people to the killing floor
Till I go down
Till I go down
Till I go down
Im not gonna shut my eyes
No no
Till I go down
Till the world stops spinning around
Till Im six feet under the ground
Till theres no sound
Till theres no pain
Im gonna swing this chain
Till I go down
Im not gonna shut my mouth
Im for the truth to come out
About the leader with the iron will
And his allegiance to the dollar bill
Till I go down
Till I go down
Till I go down
Im not gonna shut my eyes
Till I go down
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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