O Pulchritudo
O Saint whose thousand shrines our feet have trod
And our eyes loved thy lamp's eternal beam,
Dim earthly radiance of the Unknown God,
Hope of the darkness, light of them that dream,
Far off, far off and faint, O glimmer on
Till we thy pilgrims from the road are gone.
O Word whose meaning every sense hath sought,
Voice of the teeming field and grassy mound,
Deep-whispering fountain of the wells of thought,
Will of the wind and soul of all sweet sound,
Far off, far off and faint, O murmur on
Till we thy pilgrims from the road are gone.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Related quotes
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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Road Of Life
As pilgrims on the road of life,
We journey on with hope,
Through the joy, and through the strife,
Our own kaleidoscope.
Seeking harmony and seeking peace,
Striving to find our way,
Wishing that, all wars may cease,
And trying hard to pray.
As pilgrims on the road of life,
We travel on with desire,
Through the joy, and through the strife,
Our destiny to acquire.
Seeking calm and seeking rest,
Striving to find a place,
Wishing that we could be blest,
With His pure heavenly grace.
As pilgrims on the road of life,
We traverse on with love,
Through the joy, and through the strife,
To our Creator, up above.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Faint and Weary Toiled a Pilgrim
'Faint and weary toiled a pilgrim,
Faint and weary of his load;
Sudden came a sweet bird winging
Glad and swift across his road.
''Blessed songster!' cried the pilgrim,
'Where is now the load I bore?
I forget it in thy singing;
Hearing thee, I faint no more,'
'While he spoke the bird went winging
Higher still, and soared away;
'Cruel songster!' cried the pilgrim,
'Cruel songster not to stay!'
'Was the songster cruel? Never!
High above some other road
Glad and swift he still was singing,
Lightening other pilgrims' load!'
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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We're all pilgrims on the same journey - but some pilgrims have better road maps.
quote by Nelson DeMille
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pilgrims
An uphill path, sun-gleams between the showers,
Where every beam that broke the leaden sky
Lit other hills with fairer ways than ours;
Some clustered graves where half our memories lie;
And one grim Shadow creeping ever nigh:
And this was Life.
Wherein we did another's burden seek,
The tired feet we helped upon the road,
The hand we gave the weary and the weak,
The miles we lightened one another's load,
When, faint to falling, onward yet we strode:
This too was Life.
Till, at the upland, as we turned to go
Amid fair meadows, dusky in the night,
The mists fell back upon the road below;
Broke on our tired eyes the western light;
The very graves were for a moment bright:
And this was Death.
poem by John McCrae
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Monition
A faint wind, blowing from World's End,
Made strange the city street.
A strange sound mingled in the fall
Of the familiar feet.
Something unseen whirled with the leaves
To tap on door and sill.
Something unknown went whispering by
Even when the wind was still.
And men looked up with startled eyes
And hurried on their way,
As if they had been called, and told
How brief their day.
poem by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
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Grey-eyed mabel
I gazed on orbs of flashing black;
I met the glow of hazel light;
I marked the hue of laughing blue,
That sparkled in the festive night.
But none could fling a lasting spell
To hold me with unchanging power--
The chains they cast were never fast
Beyond the gay and fleeting hour--
Till Grey-eyed Mabel's gentle glance,
With blushing sense and beauty rife,
Bade my soul cry with burning sigh,
'I'm thine, and only thine, for life.'
Black, blue, and hazel stars have set,
But Mabel's grey eyes lead me yet.
What was it in sweet Mabel's eyes
That told me what no others told,
That roused the dull, that pleased the wise,
That charmed the young and cheered the old?
What was it held my world-worn breast
In holy thrall--unknown before?
What was it those grey eyes expressed
That made me worship and adore?
It was the pure and tender ray
That filled those eyes in joy or woe;
It was the beam that could not play
Without the fountain stream below;
It was the beam of simple truth,
Of Woman's faith and trusting Youth.
Those soft, grey eyes were watched by mine
With earnest, deep, and secret prayer;
I knew, I felt, my earthly shrine
Was found and fixed for ever--there.
I poured my heart one moonlit night
Into sweet Mabel's listening ear;
Our mutual vow, from then till now,
Bound each to each--fond, firm, and dear.
Our boys and girls are growing round,
And all give promise, brave and fair,
But one, young cherub form is found
First in my love, my hope, my care.
And why?--ah! why? My soul replies,
'She has dear Mabel's soft, grey eyes.'
poem by Eliza Cook
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The Dawn Wind
The Fifteenth Century
At two o'clock in the morning, if you open your window and
listen,
You will hear the feet of the Wind that is going to call the sun.
And the trees in the shadow rustle, and the trees in the moonlight
glisten,
And though it is deep, dark night, you feel that the night is
done.
So do the cows in the field. They graze for an hour and lie down,
Dozing and chewing the cud; or a bird in the ivy wakes,
Chirrups one note and is still, and the restless Wind stares on,
Fidgeting far down the road, till, softly, the darkness breaks.
Back comes the Wind full strength with a blow like an angel's
wing,
Gentle but waking the world, as he shouts: "The Sun! The
Sun!"
And the light floods over the fields and the birds begin to sing,
And the Wind dies down in the grass. It is day and his work
is done.
So when the world is asleep, and there seems no hope of her
waking
Out of some long, bad dream that makes her mutter and moan,
Suddenly, all men arise to the noise of fetters breaking,
And every one smiles at his neighbor and tells him his soul is
his own!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Quiet Eye
THE ORB I like is not the one
That dazzles with its lightning gleam;
That dares to look upon the sun,
As though it challenged brighter beam.
That orb may sparkle, flash, and roll;
Its fire may blaze, its shaft may fly;
But not for me: I prize the soul
That slumbers in a quiet eye.
There ’s something in its placid shade
That tells of calm, unworldly thought;
Hope may be crown’d, or joy delay’d—
No dimness steals, no ray is caught.
Its pensive language seems to say,
“I know that I must close and die;”
And death itself, come when it may,
Can hardly change the quiet eye.
There ’s meaning in its steady glance,
Of gentle blame or praising love,
That makes me tremble to advance
A word, that meaning might reprove.
The haughty threat, the fiery look,
My spirit proudly can defy,
But never yet could meet and brook
The upbraiding of a quiet eye.
There ’s firmness in its even light,
That augurs of a breast sincere:
And, oh! take watch how ye excite
That firmness till it yield a tear.
Some bosoms give an easy sigh,
Some drops of grief will freely start,
But that which sears the quiet eye
Hath its deep fountain in the heart.
poem by Eliza Cook
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Fire In The Sky
All alone in a sleepless night
Passing time with a runaway moon
talkin' to myself
Wishing I was somewhere else
It's been too long since I held you girl
Twice a thousand miles
But my heart won't beat alone
I need the love I left behind
Hold back the dawn awhile
This will all work out
Don't let this dream die
There's a fire in the sky
It's like the light in your eyes
Thinkin' of you
And I won't give up till your in my arms
Never give up till what's lost is found
Won't give up on your sweet, sweet love again
Now the night is dark with diamonds
And I'm standing inside the rain
Giving up your love
Was the worst mistake I made
There's a sound I hear in the distance
Seems it's calling out my name
Well I'll pay most any price
I just hope I'm not too late
Turn back the clock awhile
Things will all work out
That's what the dream is all about
There's a fire in the sky
It's like the light in your eyes
Oh, it's true
That I won't give up till your in my arms
Never give up till what's lost is found
Won't give up on your sweet, sweet love
Turn back the clock awhile
Things will all work out
That's what the dream is all about
I see a fire in the sky
Just like the light in your eyes
Thinkin' of you
That I won't give up till your in my arms
Never give up till what's lost is found
Won't give up on your sweet, sweet love
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Will Be
Mmm...
The world seems so cold
When I face so much all alone
A little scared to move on
And knowing how fast I have grown
And I wonder just where I fit in
Oh the vision alive in my head
Oh yes
I will be
Strong on my own
I will see through the rain
I will find my way
I will keep on
Traveling down the road
Till I finally reach my dream
Till Im living, and Im breathing
My destiny, yeah yeah
I cant let go now
Even when darkness surrounds
But if I hold on, yeah
I will show the world
All the things that you never expected to see
From little old me, this pittsburgh girl
And I wonder just where my place is
Close my eyes and I remind myself this
Oh yeah yeah
I will be
Strong on my own
I will see through the rain
I will find my way
I will keep on
Traveling down the road
Till I finally reach my dream
Till Im living, and Im breathing
My destiny, ohh
It comforts me
Ooh it keeps me
Alive each day of my life
Always guiding me
Providing me
With the hope I desperately need
Well I gotta believe
Theres something out there meant for me
Oh I get on my knees
Praying I will receive
The courage to grow and the faith to know
That I will be
Strong on my own
I will see through the rain
I will find my way
I will keep on
Traveling down the road
Till I finally reach my dream
Till Im living, and Im breathing
My destiny
song performed by by Christina Aguilera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Word of God Stands Forever
All men are like the flowers and grass that soon will wither away,
However, the Eternal Word of God my friend forever is here to stay.
For in the beginning was The Word and The Word was with God,
Friend not only was The Word with God, The Word is Eternal God.
Jesus Christ is Lord and God and the very Living Word my friend,
He's The Alpha and Omega, and He's the beginning and the end.
Jesus is the Maker and the Sustainer of all things created on earth,
But the only way to truly know The Word is to experience a New Birth.
Then Christ will send The Holy Spirit from His dwelling high above,
He will seal you for the day of Glory, while filling you with love.
The Spirit will then start teaching you Truths from The Word of God,
And will put your feet firmly on a brand new path on which to trod.
For the natural man who lives by bread alone will not live forever,
This will only happen if following The Word is your life's endeavor.
Then His Word will be a lamp for your feet and a light on your path,
Guiding you to Eternal Glory, as Christ delivers you from His wrath.
Sadly many people live like there's no tomorrow in their own desire,
And since they thought The Word was foolish, will finish in the fire.
Like the grass they will perish at the end of their earthly endeavor,
While The Eternal Word of God in Glory continues to stand forever.
(Copyright © 04/2003)
The Road Less Traveled
(Buddy Brock/Dean Dillion)
There's a road a winding road that never ends
Full of curves lessons learned at every bend
Goin's rough unlike the straight and narrow
It's for those who go against the grain
Have no fear dare to dream of a change live to march to the beat of a
different drummer
And it all might come together
And it all might unraveled
On the road less traveled
For the road less traveled ain't for the faint of heart
For those who choose to play it safe and never stray too far
Me I want to live my life and one day leave my mark
And it all might come together
And it all come unraveled
On the road less traveled
I've chosen a pathway I may not endure
One thing's for certain nothing for sure
And it all might come together
And it all might come unraveled
On the road less traveled
For the road less traveled ain't for the faint of heart
For those who choose to play it safe and never stray too far
Me I want to live my life and one day leave my mark
And it all might come together
And it all come unraveled
On the road less traveled
There's a road winding road that never ends
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Recollections Of Love
I
How warm this woodland wild Recess !
Love surely hath been breathing here ;
And this sweet bed of heath, my dear !
Swells up, then sinks with faint caress,
As if to have you yet more near.
II
Eight springs have flown, since last I lay
On sea-ward Quantock's heathy hills,
Where quiet sounds from hidden rills
Float hear and there, like things astray,
And high o'er head the sky-lark shrills.
III
No voice as yet had made the air
Be music with your name ; yet why
That asking look ? that yearning sigh ?
That sense of promise every where ?
Belovéd ! flew your spirit by ?
IV
As when a mother doth explore
The rose-mark on her long-lost child,
I met, I loved you, maiden mild !
As whom I long had loved before--
So deeply had I been beguiled.
V
You stood before me like a thought,
A dream remembered in a dream.
But when those meek eyes first did seem
To tell me, Love within you wrought--
O Greta, dear domestic stream !
VI
Has not, since then, Love's prompture deep,
Has not Love's whisper evermore
Been ceaseless, as thy gentle roar ?
Sole voice, when other voices sleep,
Dear under-song in clamor's hour.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Love and Life
I.
AS some faint wisp of fragrance, floating wide—
A pennant-perfume on the evening air—
From a walled garden, flower-filled and fair,
To drape a sudden beauty long denied
Upon life's highway desolate and dried—
So come you to me, as I, unaware,
Bend my strict eyes upon my pathway bare;
But at your presence straight I turn aside,
And passing in the garden see uncurled
The heart of hidden beauty in the world,
And love as life's one blossom is revealed.
My backward glance your floating tresses blind,
About my struggling hopes your white arms wind,
And I have yielded—but how sweet to yield!
II.
Yet, in the prison of the garden bound,
The sluggish perfumes o'er my spirit fall,
And I lie languid in their sweetness' thrall,
Beneath the fragrance of much beauty drowned:
When through the fountain's murmur—lo, a sound
Insistent and reproachful! O'er the wall
Drops a faint echo of the Earth's deep call,
And I leap upright from the rose-strewn ground.
Outside the bracing wind sings, clean and chill;
Outside are tasks to do, blows to be struck;
And I must toil the dreary highway till
It broadens to the fields of death. Yet, ere
I leave for aye your perfumed close, I pluck
A shrivelled blossom that I kiss and wear.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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The Lonely
The lonely live in silent moonlight
Waiting for dreams with open hearts
Soft words ripple the serene water
The sky is dark, the universe silent
A winter leaf falls to the ground
Alone in the cold wind
Through the wilderness I hear your cry
I wish I could come to your longing heart
I too am searching for the golden kingdom
Through the curtain a light shines faint
We are together in soul and spirit
Children of a dream, waiting, watching
The morning will come soon, sleep my dear
We hope we are in someone else's dream
Hearts are deep wells and fill with sorrow
Today isn't tomorrow, the lonely think it is
Love is so close it is far away
One soul to another soul, see the door way
You are far away, yet I know your soul
We are together, we both are seekers of love
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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All The Pilgrims
All those married shall cheer and stride
Like the marchers of religion and gain.
Silent worshippers are like pilgrims of the night,
They never whisper or stride wrongfully
And objectionably, merely they strive.
No mind is against the pilgrims of the night
Who are not beggars of the light,
Who are some of us as well,
Who let pilgrimage be like a journey of choice
That man suffers for woman and child.
Anything in the light of the book of God
Shall be with pilgrims of choice,
Their minds are set upon life of the world beyond.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Dream
Believe me, this was true last night,
Tho' it is false to-day.
-- A.M.F. Robinson.
A fair dream to my chamber flew:
Such a crowd of folk that stirred,
Jested, fluttered; only you,
You alone of all that band,
Calm and silent, spake no word.
Only once you neared my place,
And your hand one moment's space
Sought the fingers of my hand;
Your eyes flashed to mine; I knew
All was well between us two.
* * * * *
On from dream to dream I past,
But the first sweet vision cast
Mystic radiance o'er the last.
* * * * *
When I woke the pale night lay
Still, expectant of the day;
All about the chamber hung
Tender shade of twilight gloom;
The fair dream hovered round me, clung
To my thought like faint perfume:--
Like sweet odours, such as cling
To the void flask, which erst encloses
Attar of rose; or the pale string
Of amber which has lain with roses.
Early Summer.
The light is silent on the greeny sward,
And from a bough above the wild dove's coo
Steals on the ear like a dream-dewy word,
Or the voice of one of a faery crew.
The warmth within the azure of the hills
Breathes like the picture of a perfect thing,
Which some supernal artist limning has
Made mystical with love's remembering.
Now the faint murmur of the coming tide
Grows like a spirit in the quiet cove,
While with a drowsy murmur kin to it
The brown bees among the sweet flowers rove.
Here where the heart could fold itself, and sleep
As if within a shining century,
Naught seems to change but thought, and even it
Makes every change a tender melody.
All here is so remote from the world's care,
As if it were a dream that would not fade,
Amid so much that man has ruined here
Like some old-world divineness that has stayed.
poem by Robert Crawford
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