Hilltop Song
When the lights come out in the cottages
Along the shores at eve,
And across the darkening water
The last pale colours leave;
And up from the rock-ridged pasture slopes
The sheep-bell tinklings steal,
And the folds are shut, and the shepherds
Turn to their quiet meal;
And even here, on the unfenced height,
No journeying wind goes by,
But the earth-sweet smells and the home-sweet sounds
Mount, like prayer, to the sky;
Then from the door of my opened heart
Old blindness and pride are driven,
Till I know how high is the humble,
The dear earth how close to heaven.
poem by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
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Related quotes
My Elements
earth, water, fire and air
i dont look good and
i dont care
i ride the wind and hold the fire
to love the earth
is my only disire
wild and breezy like the wind
hot and spicy like the fire
rock solid like the earth
ready to chase my each and every disire
sweet and flowing like the water
every day i just get hotter
sweet and spicey i can be both
dont you come way to close
im ready to burn
every day i can take the turn cuz
im the earth, water, fire and air
i dont look good and i wont care.
poem by Sandra Geisell
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A Little Bit Of Heaven
Written by richard kerr & graham lyle
The last guest has gone
I can tell youre as thankful as i
A good time was had by all
And a little wine
I know by that look
(hmm) youve got other things on your mind
And I cant resist that sign
So turn out the lights and close the door
We need the night to be alone
Shut out the world-just let it spin
Why dont we make a little bit of heaven
Just talk to my heart
(ooh) say the words that I want to hear
Darling, tonight I need you near
So turn out the light and close the door
We need some time to be alone
Shut out the world-just let it spin
And maybe well touch
A little bit of heaven
Oh---, oh, oh, hmm---
Shut out the world-just let it spin
Maybe well touch a little bit of heaven
Heavens right here for us
We dont need a mountain to climb, no, no, no
Theres just the two of us
And the love between the lines
Turn out the light and close the door
We need the night to be alone
Shut out the world just let it spin
Why dont we make a little bit of heaven
Turn out the light and close that door
Maybe well find a little bit of heaven
Turn out the light, baby, and close the door
I know we can make a little bit of heaven
Honey, turn out the light, yeah, and close the door
Maybe well find a little bit of heaven
Turn out the light and close the door
Maybe well find, oh, a little bit of heaven
song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Homeless.
At the midnight, when street lights make
chiaroscuro on the face of unknown straggler,
someone raps on the door 'are you home, my sweetheart? '
He stands-like a lonely tree on meditation,
like a wind rustling through the leaves,
like an old refrain 'are you home? '
The sweet pain numbs my heart for a while-
the moon with pale face rises behind the curtain,
someone plays a note of my saddest dream,
a high wind from the sea blows away the curtain-
I stood naked before the night with awful question,
' are you home, my dear? '
poem by Aloke Mukherjee
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Love's Omnipresence
Where I was base as is the lowly plain,
And you, my Love, as high as heaven above,
Yet should the thoughts of me your humble swain
Ascend to heaven, in honour of my Love.
Where I as high as heaven above the plain,
And you, my Love, as humble and as low
As are the deepest bottoms of the main,
Whereso'er you were, with you my love should go.
Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies,
My love should shine on you like to the sun,
And look upon you with thousand eyes
Till heaven wax'd blind, and till the world were done.
Whereso'er I am, below, or else above you,
Whereso'er you are, my heart shall truly love you.
poem by Joshua Sylvester
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Constancy
Were I as base as is the lowly plain,
And you, my Love, as high as heaven above,
Yet should the thoughts of me, your humble swain,
Ascend to heaven in honor of my love.
Were I as high as heaven above plain,
And you, my Love, as humble and as low
As are the deepest bottoms of the main,
Wheresoe'er you were, with you my love should go.
Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies,
My love should shine on you like to the sun,
And look upon you with ten thousand eyes
Till heaven waxed blind, and till the world were dun.
Wheresoe'er I am, below, or else above you,
Wheresoe'er you are, my heart shall truly love you. .
poem by Joshua Sylvester
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Chains Invisible
THE lilies in my garden grow,
Wide meadows ring my garden round,
In that green copse wild violets blow,
And pale, frail cuckoo flowers are found.
For all you see and all you hear,
The city might be miles away,
And yet you feel the city near
Through all the quiet of the day.
Sweet smells the earth--wet with sweet rain--
Sweet lilac waves in moonlight pale,
And from the wood beyond the lane
I hear the hidden nightingale.
Though field and wood about me lie,
Hushed soft in dew and deep delight,
Yet can I hear the city's sigh
Through all the silence of the night.
For me the skylark builds and sings,
For me the vine her garland weaves;
The swallow folds her glossy wings
To build beneath my cottage eaves.
But I can feel the giant near,
Can hear his slaves by daylight weep,
And when at last the night is here,
I hear him moaning in his sleep.
Oh! for a little space of ground,
Though not a flower should make it gay,
Where miles of meadows wrapped me round,
And leagues and leagues of silence lay.
Oh! for a wind-lashed, treeless down,
A black night and a rising sea,
And never a thought of London town,
To steal the world's delight from me.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Little Libbie
One more little spirit to Heaven has flown,
To dwell in that mansion above,
Where dear little angels, together roam,
In God's everlasting love.
One little flower has withered and died,
A bud near ready to bloom,
Its life on earth is marked with pride;
Oh, sad it should die so soon.
Sweet little Libbie, that precious flower
Was a pride in her parents' home,
They miss their little girl every hour,
Those friends that are left to mourn.
Her sweet silvery voice no more is heard
In the home where she once roamed;
Her place is vacant around the hearth,
Where her friends are mourning lone.
They are mourning the loss of a little girl,
With black eyes and auburn hair,
She was a treasure to them in this world,
This beautiful child so fair.
One morning in April, a short time ago,
Libbie was active and gay;
Her Saviour called her, she had to go,
E're the close of that pleasant day.
While eating dinner, this dear little child
Was choked on a piece of beef.
Doctors came, tried their skill awhile,
But none could give relief.
She was ten years of age, I am told,
And in school stood very high.
Her little form now the earth enfolds,
In her embrace it must ever lie.
Her friends and schoolmates will not forget
Little Libbie that is no more;
She is waiting on the shining step,
To welcome home friends once more.
poem by Julia A Moore
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The fire and the water
The fire belongs to heaven
It was stolen by Prometheus
and was brought to the earth
The fire however always wants to
go back home in the skies
The flames always clamour for that
looking up with hissing tongue
The fire seeks to burn the earth into ethereal heaven
The water belongs to the earth
The demon Vritra robbed the earth of its water
and hid it in the caverns of heaven
But the water longs for its home and groans
through the thundering cloud
till it comes back home in earth
in rains
When do the fire of the skies
and the water of the mingle?
Do they ever mingle?
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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My Cottage Home
1.
My home, my home, my cottage home,
Thou fair and lovely spot,
How sad and lonely is my soul,
When I can view thee not;
The vines may blossom in my path,
And flowers I most adore,
But what are all their charm to me,
If not beside my door.
2.
Home is a name ne'er forget,
Like other names of earth;
We never grow old to love
The spot that gave us birth;
And when in dreams of faded years;
Of all our youthful pride,
How sweet to dwell beneath the roof,
Where our dear parents died.
3.
My home, my home, my cottage home,
I'll love thee evermore,
And evry heart that greets me when
I reach thy humble door;
And though my mother's smile be gone;
My mother's watchful care,
I love to dwell beneath the roof,
For home was always there.
poem by Septimus Winner
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A Child's Laughter
ALL the bells of heaven may ring,
All the birds of heaven may sing,
All the wells on earth may spring,
All the winds on earth may bring
All sweet sounds together---
Sweeter far than all things heard,
Hand of harper, tone of bird,
Sound of woods at sundawn stirred,
Welling water's winsome word,
Wind in warm wan weather,
One thing yet there is, that none
Hearing ere its chime be done
Knows not well the sweetest one
Heard of man beneath the sun,
Hoped in heaven hereafter;
Soft and strong and loud and light,
Very sound of very light
Heard from morning's rosiest height,
When the soul of all delight
Fills a child's clear laughter.
Golden bells of welcome rolled
Never forth such notes, nor told
Hours so blithe in tones so bold,
As the radiant mouth of gold
Here that rings forth heaven.
If the golden-crested wren
Were a nightingale---why, then,
Something seen and heard of men
Might be half as sweet as when
Laughs a child of seven.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Ubique
WERE I as base as is the lowly plain,
And you, my Love, as high as heaven above,
Yet should the thoughts of me, your humble swain,
Ascend to heaven in honour of my love.
Were I as high as heaven above the plain,
And you, my Love, as humble and as low
As are the deepest bottoms of the main,
Wheresoe'er you were, with you my love should go.
Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies,
My love should shine on you like to the Sun,
And look upon you with ten thousand eyes,
Till heaven wax'd blind, and till the world were done.
Wheresoe'er I am,--below, or else above you--
Wheresoe'er you are, my heart shall truly love you.
poem by Joshua Sylvester
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Home, Sweet Home
Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain;
Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again!
The birds singing gayly, that come at my call --
Give me them -- and the peace of mind, dearer than all!
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
I gaze on the moon as I tread the drear wild,
And feel that my mother now thinks of her child,
As she looks on that moon from our own cottage door
Thro' the woodbine, whose fragrance shall cheer me no more.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
How sweet 'tis to sit 'neath a fond father's smile,
And the caress of a mother to soothe and beguile!
Let others delight mid new pleasures to roam,
But give me, oh, give me, the pleasures of home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
To thee I'll return, overburdened with care;
The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there;
No more from that cottage again will I roam;
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet, home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
poem by John Howard Payne
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Moorland Night
My face is against the grass - the moorland grass is wet -
My eyes are shut against the grass, against my lips there are the little blades,
Over my head the curlews call, And now there is the night wind in my hair;
My heart is against the grass and the sweet earth, - it has gone still, at last;
It does not want to beat any more,
And why should it beat?
This is the end of the journey.
The Thing is found.
This is the end of all the roads -
Over the grass there is the night-dew
And the wind that drives up from the sea along the moorland road,
I hear a curlew start out from the heath
And fly off calling through the dusk,
The wild, long, rippling call -:
The Thing is found and I am quiet with the earth;
Perhaps the earth will hold it or the wind, or that bird's cry,
But it is not for long in any life I know. This cannot stay,
Not now, not yet, not in a dying world, with me, for very long;
I leave it here:
And one day the wet grass may give it back -
One day the quiet earth may give it back -
The calling birds may give it back as they go by -
To someone walking on the moor who starves for love and will not know
Who gave it to all these to give away;
Or, if I come and ask for it again
Oh! then, to me.
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
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Ribblesdale
Earth, sweet Earth, sweet landscape, with leavés throng
And louchéd low grass, heaven that dost appeal
To, with no tongue to plead, no heart to feel;
That canst but only be, but dost that long—
Thou canst but be, but that thou well dost; strong
Thy plea with him who dealt, nay does now deal,
Thy lovely dale down thus and thus bids reel
Thy river, and o’er gives all to rack or wrong.
And what is Earth’s eye, tongue, or heart else, where
Else, but in dear and dogged man?—Ah, the heir
To his own selfbent so bound, so tied to his turn,
To thriftless reave both our rich round world bare
And none reck of world after, this bids wear
Earth brows of such care, care and dear concern.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Come Be With Me
Written by Amy Grant, Co-written by Beth Nielsen Chapman
Baby this life can break your heart
Everyone hurts to some degree
So while this world is falling apart
Why don't you come be with me?
Don't you know that life can be so cold
When you're without the one you need
How much longer do I have to go?
Waiting for you, come be with me
Love can be so simple when you let it flow
Keep it in your head, feel it in your heart
Send it through your soul
Look up at the stars burning bright
Listen to the wind whisper sweet
Heaven and earth know the moment is right
Why don't you come be with me?
(Repeat Refrain)
Look up at the starts burning bright
Listen to the wind whisper sweet
Heaven and earth know the moment is right
Why don't you come be with me?
Heaven and earth know the moment is right
Why don't you come be with me?
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pastoral Sung To The King
MONTANO, SILVIO, AND MIRTILLO, SHEPHERDS
MON. Bad are the times. SIL. And worse than they are we.
MON. Troth, bad are both; worse fruit, and ill the tree:
The feast of shepherds fail. SIL. None crowns the cup
Of wassail now, or sets the quintel up:
And he, who used to lead the country-round,
Youthful Mirtillo, here he comes, grief-drown'd.
AMBO. Let's cheer him up. SIL. Behold him weeping-ripe.
MIRT. Ah, Amarillis! farewell mirth and pipe;
Since thou art gone, no more I mean to play
To these smooth lawns, my mirthful roundelay.
Dear Amarillis! MON. Hark! SIL. Mark! MIRT. This
earth grew sweet
Where, Amarillis, thou didst set thy feet.
AMBO Poor pitied youth! MIRT. And here the breath
of kine
And sheep grew more sweet by that breath of thine.
This dock of wool, and this rich lock of hair,
This ball of cowslips, these she gave me here.
SIL. Words sweet as love itself. MON. Hark!--
MIRT. This way she came, and this way too she went;
How each thing smells divinely redolent!
Like to a field of beans, when newly blown,
Or like a meadow being lately mown.
MON. A sweet sad passion----
MIRT. In dewy mornings, when she came this way,
Sweet bents would bow, to give my Love the day;
And when at night she folded had her sheep,
Daisies would shut, and closing, sigh and weep.
Besides (Ai me!) since she went hence to dwell,
The Voice's Daughter ne'er spake syllable.
But she is gone. SIL. Mirtillo, tell us whither?
MIRT. Where she and I shall never meet together.
MON. Fore-fend it, Pan! and Pales, do thou please
To give an end... MIRT. To what? SIL. Such griefs
as these.
MIRT. Never, O never! Still I may endure
The wound I suffer, never find a cure.
MON. Love, for thy sake, will bring her to these hills
And dales again. MIRT. No, I will languish still;
And all the while my part shall be to weep;
And with my sighs call home my bleating sheep;
And in the rind of every comely tree
I'll carve thy name, and in that name kiss thee.
MON. Set with the sun, thy woes! SIL. The day
grows old;
And time it is our full-fed flocks to fold.
CHOR. The shades grow great; but greater grows
our sorrow:--
But let's go steep
Our eyes in sleep;
And meet to weep
To-morrow.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Don't Leave Home
Like a ghost dont need a key
Your best friend I've come to be
Please don't think of getting up for me
You don't even need to speak
When I've been here for just one day
You'll already miss me if I go away
So close the blinds and shut the door
You won't need other friends anymore
Oh don't leave home, oh don't leave home
If you're cold I'll keep you warm
And If you're lost just hold on
Cause I will be your safety
Oh don't leave home
I arrived when you were weak
I'll make you weaker, like a child
Now all your love you give to me
When your heart is all I need
Oh don't leave home, oh don't leave home
If you're cold I'll keep you warm
And If you're lost just hold on
Cause I will be your safety
Oh don't leave home
Oh how quiet, quiet the world can be
When it's just you and little me
Everything is clear and everything is new
So you won't be leaving will you
If you're cold I'll keep you warm
And If you're lost just hold on
Cause I will be your safety
Oh don't leave home
Cause I will be your safety
I will be your safety
I will be your safety
Oh don't leave home
song performed by by Dido
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Triumph Over Tragedy
Darkness descends upon the Earth
And souls are lost like sheep
And evil's spawned from death to birth,
Its destiny to creep.
The ancient stars bear witness to
The prophecies of old
And in one twinkling share a clue
Of what will yet unfold.
The brazen man with magic hands
Condemns the souls unsaved,
Such that each mind misunderstands
How Mankind's sins are waived.
Rejecting every golden truth,
The blindness grows inside
And though this wretch seems but a youth,
His heart's crammed full with pride.
His coldness freezes every thought
That God could thus inspire
And so this smiling fool gets caught
Within the lake of fire.
He rules the Earth, yet he's the king
Of cruelties and more.
They chant his name and praises sing
And yet he breaks God's law.
Darkness descends and blood must flow
As war leads men astray,
Till lightning stretches to and fro
And God's sheep fly away.
The deadly years must run their course
Till God's grace intervenes -
To bring new light through opened doors
With holiness that cleans.
It's then that love creates new friends,
Forgiven one by one,
When every soul on Earth depends
Upon God's chosen Son...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Sweet Little Rock & Roller
By: chuck berry as done by nazareth
Nineteeen years old and as sweet as she can be
Dressed up like a downtown christmas tree
Dancin and hummin a rock-roll melody
Shes the daughter of a well-respected man
Who taught her how to judge and understand
Soon she became a rock-roll music fan
Sweet little rock and roller, sweet little rock and roller
Papa dont have to scold her, says he cant hardly hold her
She never gets any older, sweet little rock and roller
Shouldve seen her eyes when the band began to play
Famous singers sang and barred away
Stars performed, she screamed and yelled hooray!
Ten thousand eyes were watching her leave the floor
Five thousand tongues were screaming out more! more!
About fifteen hundred waitin outside the door
Sweet little rock and roller
Sweet little rock and roller
Papa dont have to scold her, says he cant hardly hold her
She never gets any older, sweet little rock and roller
Sweet little rock and roller
Sweet little rock and roller
Sweet little rock and roller
Sweet little rock and roller
Sweet little rock and roller
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At That Hour
At that hour when all things have repose,
O lonely watcher of the skies,
Do you hear the night wind and the sighs
Of harps playing unto Love to unclose
The pale gates of sunrise?
When all things repose, do you alone
Awake to hear the sweet harps play
To Love before him on his way,
And the night wind answering in antiphon
Till night is overgone?
Play on, invisible harps, unto Love,
Whose way in heaven is aglow
At that hour when soft lights come and go,
Soft sweet music in the air above
And in the earth below.
poem by James Joyce
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