The Only Son
O bitter wind toward the sunset blowing,
What of the dales tonight?
In yonder gray old hall what fires are glowing,
What ring of festal lights?
In the great window as the day was dwindling
I saw an old man stand;
His head was proudly held and his eyes kindling,
But the list shook in his hand.'
O wind of twilight, was there no word uttered,
No sound of joy or wail?
'A great fight and a good death,' he muttered;
'Trust him, he would not fail.''
What of the chamber dark where she was lying
For whom all life is done?
'Within her heart she rocks a dead child, crying
'My son, my little son.''
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Listen to the wind
Listen to the tranquil sonatas of the
Low blowing breeze and you'll think here
Is Mozart descended from Heaven to
Bring merriment to your happy heart
Listen to the wind as the mighty
Wind rocks the young of spirit
The wind will rock you and live you
Panting for more
Hear the sound of the great blowing wind
The wind is strong
The wind plays the majestic symphonies
To keep you spellbound and you will
Be enchanted by the spirit of the
The great cacophony of the myriads of
The the sheer ferocity of the souring
Lyrics of the almighty conquering wind
And you'll wish you too was blessed
To be born earlier and know how Beethoven
Came to compose the great symphonies
For he too must have been enchanted by
The sound of the high spirited blowing wind
The wind has a new melody to gladden your
Happy heart and your kind spirit with
Listen with an open mind and a clean soul
This exquisite melody the loving wind dedicates
Exclusively for you to immortalize you and
They'll remember you whose name is fused into
The song and make you live on five hundred more
Years after you have long departed from this earth
Appreciate the haunting mourning sound of the
Brooding wind and learn to live with it
The wind is God's greatest grand gift to Humanity
The life giving air you breath is His breath
That gives meaning for your being here
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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Wind Child Love Embracing
wind child still
I see your joy laughing eyes
wind child still
I see your warm eyes laughing
wind child still
I see your eyes green healing
wind child still
I see an emerald sea your eyes
wind child still
I see your soft dove brown eyes
wind child still
I see your fawn eyes new life running
wind child still
I see your dark black eyes blessing
wind child still
I see your soul dark passion eyes
wind child still
I see your love welcoming eyes
wind child still
I see your smile universe embracing
wind child still
I see your love of God’s creativity spreading
wind child still
I see stars in heaven smile in your soul eyes
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Gift Of The Sea
The dead child lay in the shroud,
And the widow watched beside;
And her mother slept, and the Channel swept
The gale in the teeth of the tide.
But the mother laughed at all.
"I have lost my man in the sea,
And the child is dead. Be still," she said,
"What more can ye do to me?"
The widow watched the dead,
And the candle guttered low,
And she tried to sing the Passing Song
That bids the poor soul go.
And "Mary take you now," she sang,
"That lay against my heart."
And "Mary smooth your crib to-night,"
But she could not say "Depart."
Then came a cry from the sea,
But the sea-rime blinded the glass,
And "Heard ye nothing, mother?" she said,
"'Tis the child that waits to pass."
And the nodding mother sighed.
"'Tis a lambing ewe in the whin,
For why should the christened soul cry out
That never knew of sin?"
"O feet I have held in my hand,
O hands at my heart to catch,
How should they know the road to go,
And how should they lift the latch?"
They laid a sheet to the door,
With the little quilt atop,
That it might not hurt from the cold or the dirt,
But the crying would not stop.
The widow lifted the latch
And strained her eyes to see,
And opened the door on the bitter shore
To let the soul go free.
There was neither glimmer nor ghost,
There was neither spirit nor spark,
And "Heard ye nothing, mother?" she said,
"'Tis crying for me in the dark."
And the nodding mother sighed:
"'Tis sorrow makes ye dull;
Have ye yet to learn the cry of the tern,
Or the wail of the wind-blown gull?"
"The terns are blown inland,
The gray gull follows the plough.
'Twas never a bird, the voice I heard,
O mother, I hear it now!"
"Lie still, dear lamb, lie still;
The child is passed from harm,
'Tis the ache in your breast that broke your rest,
And the feel of an empty arm."
She put her mother aside,
"In Mary's name let be!
For the peace of my soul I must go," she said,
And she went to the calling sea.
In the heel of the wind-bit pier,
Where the twisted weed was piled,
She came to the life she had missed by an hour,
For she came to a little child.
She laid it into her breast,
And back to her mother she came,
But it would not feed and it would not heed,
Though she gave it her own child's name.
And the dead child dripped on her breast,
And her own in the shroud lay stark;
And "God forgive us, mother," she said,
"We let it die in the dark!"
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Into the darkness of His hand
In the deepest valley and the darkest night
There is a hand that holds my hand
And like a child I know not my way
All I know is with whom I stand
There seems to be no way ahead
And the road before me is crumbling
My hand is in my Fathers hand
It is all that keeps me from stumbling
You dare not look to you left or right
For it falls away to the dark abyss
And the path it seems to have come to an end
Yet my hand is held tightly in His
Just when I need my senses the most
And I must not be taken by surprise
I feel my hand in my Fathers hand
And He says ' my son, close your eyes.'
And my head screams out ' you'll fall and die, '
Yet my heart feels my hand in His hand
And the Lord says ' trust in me,
Shut you eyes and together we'll stand'
And so fear and doubt gave way to trust
I closed my eyes and held His hand tight
He led me through the deepest valley
He led me through the darkest night
poem by Frank McEleny
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With The Wind
'Twas when the wind was blowing from the billow-breaking sea,
The grey and stormy sea, I heard her calling me,
And in the woods and on the ways where leaves were whirling down,
And weeds were rustling brown,
I caught a glimpse of face and feet, a glimmer of her gown.
And there between the forest and a strip of wandering sea,
Of dark and dreaming sea, I heard her laugh at me;
And, oh! her voice was bugle-wild as are the wind and rain,
And drew my heart again
With all the lures of all the past and joy more keen than pain.
Upon a fir-dark hilltop by the sunset-jewelled sea,
The old and wrinkled sea, she shook her hair at me,
And I caught a misty shimmer of her frosty gown and veil,
And her hand waved rosy pale,
And my heart was fain to follow her upon the old-time trail.
Within a ferny hollow by the mermaid-calling sea,
The far and foaming sea, she turned her face to me:
Again I saw her beauty; and again she held me fast,
As she'd held me in the past,
And let her wild heart beat to mine as beats the autumn blast.
Beside a rib of wreckage by the tempest-haunted sea,
The sad and severing sea, she bade good-bye to me:
Oh, paler than the foam her face, and wilder than the night,
When not a star gives light,
And rain and wind and winter sweep like harpies from the height.
Oh, she who joined her gipsy joy to sorrow of the sea,
The gaunt and ghostly sea, will come again to me:
When Autumn leads the wild-fowl home and lights, like wandering gleams,
The camp-fires of her dreams,
Again my heart shall hear her call upon the gale that streams.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Heart Dont Break Tonight
Lying in the dark tonight
Lying here alone
Trying to figure out tonight
Where it is Ive gone
Lately I dont understand
Some feelings that I have
Even on the brightest days
I dont know why Im sad
Sometimes when the night is still
I start to fall apart
Heart dont break tonight
Give me a little more time
Please dont let me down
cause I cant stand the sound
Heart dont break tonight
Listening to the cars go by
On the boulevard
Wondering as Im lying here
Why the nights so hard
I close my eyes and see you
The way you used to be
But right now all that I can do
Is just hold on to me
Sometimes when the night is still
I start to fall apart
Heart dont break tonight
Give me a little more time
Please dont let me down
cause I cant stand the sound
Heart dont break tonight
I watch the lights dance on the wall
As another car goes by
I realize how quickly things can change
Sometimes when the night is still
I start to fall apart
Heart dont break tonight
Give me a little more time
Please dont let me down
cause I cant stand the sound
Heart dont break tonight
Heart dont break tonight
Give me a little more time
Heart dont break tonight
Give me a little more time
Heart dont break tonight
Give me a little more time
song performed by by Tiffany
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wind is Blowing
The wind is blowing,
Blowing slow and fast on my skin,
Blowing fast and hard on his skin.
The wind is cold tonight,
Blowing scary in the woods,
Blowing swiftly throw the night.
The wind is warm today,
Blowing hard in town,
Blowing soft in the county.
The wind is cool,
Blowing all the time,
As they say,
The wind is blowing!
poem by Angela M. Maynard
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The Sisters
ANNIE and Rhoda, sisters twain,
Woke in the night to the sound of rain,
The rush of wind, the ramp and roar
Of great waves climbing a rocky shore.
Annie rose up in her bed-gown white,
And looked out into the storm and night.
'Hush, and hearken!' she cried in fear,
'Hearest thou nothing, sister dear?'
'I hear the sea, and the plash of rain,
And roar of the northeast hurricane.
'Get thee back to the bed so warm,
No good comes of watching a storm.
'What is it to thee, I fain would know,
That waves are roaring and wild winds blow?
'No lover of thine's afloat to miss
The harbor-lights on a night like this.'
'But I heard a voice cry out my name,
Up from the sea on the wind it came.
'Twice and thrice have I heard it call,
And the voice is the voice of Estwick Hall!'
On her pillow the sister tossed her head.
'Hall of the Heron is safe,' she said.
'In the tautest schooner that ever swam
He rides at anchor in Anisquam.
'And, if in peril from swamping sea
Or lee shore rocks, would he call on thee?'
But the girl heard only the wind and tide,
And wringing her small white hands she cried,
'O sister Rhoda, there's something wrong;
I hear it again, so loud and long.
''Annie! Annie!' I hear it call,
And the voice is the voice of Estwick Hall!'
Up sprang the elder, with eyes aflame,
'Thou liest! He never would call thy name!
'If he did, I would pray the wind and sea
To keep him forever from thee and me!'
Then out of the sea blew a dreadful blast;
Like the cry of a dying man it passed.
The young girl hushed on her lips a groan,
But through her tears a strange light shone,--
The solemn joy of her heart's release
To own and cherish its love in peace.
'Dearest!' she whispered, under breath,
'Life was a lie, but true is death.
'The love I hid from myself away
Shall crown me now in the light of day.
'My ears shall never to wooer list,
Never by lover my lips be kissed.
'Sacred to thee am I henceforth,
Thou in heaven and I on earth!'
She came and stood by her sister's bed
'Hall of the Heron is dead!' she said.
'The wind and the waves their work have done,
We shall see him no more beneath the sun.
'Little will reek that heart of thine,
It loved him not with a love like mine.
'I, for his sake, were he but here,
Could hem and 'broider thy bridal gear,
'Though hands should tremble and eyes be wet,
And stitch for stitch in my heart be set.
'But now my soul with his soul I wed;
Thine the living, and mine the dead!'
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Against The Wind
(dieter bohlen)
Producer for bonnie: dieter bohlen
Living in a danger zone
A lonely man a lonely child
So many miles away from home
Emotions running wild with me
Come take my heart, come feel the
Burns of fire
Come and break my heart and feel my
Loving mind
Oh against the wind Im flying
Against the wind Im crying
This night was made for a lonely
Dont break my heart tonight, no
Oh against the wind Im flying
Against the wind Im crying
This night was made for a lonely
Dont break my heart tonight, no
Oh you need a helping hand
The times are getting tough
Baby come and try again
Theres no living without love, in my heart
Its hard for me, but its harder to ignore it
Oh my fantasy, come feel my love tonight
Oh against the wind Im flying
Against the wind Im crying
This night was made for a lonely
Dont break my heart tonight, oh no
song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From Life's Cold Tenderness
From life’s cold tenderness
I shall be refreshed
From the shut-out hence of a heart at rest
That live to contentment
Love is mine
Close, close in arms
A song to any stranger that may come.
In me the battle for love is won
The unfading eye of April’s face
Is stranded by an uncertain grace
The spirit that dies for want of love
Is bold in the love that rise above
Safe on the lofty design of heaven
As it drunk on wine it whisper never
The drunkenness of once done as wind with its motion never stayed
to blow too much never afraid.
Out the breath of a joy of lust
It stays its rough wild among
The playing of celestial fires that trust
Like keys of some great belonging wired if it would
To the north wind chilled wintry familiar could.
I hear the wind and I listen dear
It’s a warm wind in the chamber of my ear
Where the spirit of the wind dead as a stone
Motionless on the frozen ground
poem by David E. Patton
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The Piper On The Hills
A CHILD'S SONG
There sits a piper on the hill
Who pipes the livelong day,
And when he pipes both loud and shrill,
The frightened people say
‘The wind, the wind is blowing up,
'Tis rising to a gale.’
The women hurry to the shore
To watch some distant sail.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Is blowing to a gale.
But when he pipes all sweet and low,
The piper on the hill,
I hear the merry women go
With laughter, loud and shrill
‘The wind, the wind is coming south,
'Twill blow a gentle day.’
They gather on the meadow-land,
To toss the yellow hay.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Is blowing south to-day.
And in the morn, when winter comes,
To keep the piper warm,
The little Angels shake their wings
To make a feather storm
‘The snow, the snow has come at last!’
The happy children call,
And ‘ring around’ they dance in glee,
And watch the snowflakes fall.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Has spread a snowy pall.
But when at night the piper plays,
I have not any fear,
Because God's windows open wide
The pretty tune to hear;
And when each crowding spirit looks,
From its star window-pane,
A watching mother may behold
Her little child again.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
May blow her home again.
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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The Cross On Your Hill
tis the beat of sorrow
that undresses the body of god.
the wind driven by need
that blows out the candle.
and the darkness that holds suffering
that wraps around the desire...
tis my tongue nailed
to the cross on your hill.
i run with the wolves,
and swim with the whales.
i know the sound of the bullet striking,
and the echo of the fall.
i taste the empty of the cup
held by the grimy hand...
i've stood by the fires,
where lost souls shuffle and stomp.
i am heart and hand,
penis, and spirit.
i am the madness,
and the ear sliced off.
i want, i need,
i breathe with the earth.
i'll stand by your window
when the moonlight fails.
clouds, wind, and whispering spirits,
your lips, your eyes...
i cant escape!
and all the dreams
and the journeys,
are nothing more...
the wars have ended,
my love just begun!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Felo de Se
With Apologies to Mr. Swinburne.
For repose I have sighed and have struggled ; have sigh'd and have struggled in vain;
I am held in the Circle of Being and caught in the Circle of Pain.
I was wan and weary with life ; my sick soul yearned for death;
I was weary of women and war and the sea and the wind's wild breath;
I cull'd sweet poppies and crush'd them, the blood ran rich and red:--
And I cast it in crystal chalice and drank of it till I was dead.
And the mould of the man was mute, pulseless in ev'ry part,
The long limbs lay on the sand with an eagle eating the heart.
Repose for the rotting head and peace for the putrid breast,
But for that which is 'I' indeed the gods have decreed no rest;
No rest but an endless aching, a sorrow which grows amain:--
I am caught in the Circle of Being and held in the Circle of Pain.
Bitter indeed is Life, and bitter of Life the breath,
But give me Life and its ways and its men, if this be Death.
Wearied I once of the Sun and the voices which clamour'd around:
Give them me back--in the sightless depths there is neither light nor sound.
Sick is my soul, and sad and feeble and faint as it felt
When (far, dim day) in the fair flesh-fane of the body it dwelt.
But then I could run to the shore, weeping and weary and weak;
See the waves' blue sheen and feel the breath of the breeze on my cheek:
Could wail with the wailing wind; strike sharply the hands in despair;
Could shriek with the shrieking blast, grow frenzied and tear the hair;
Could fight fierce fights with the foe or clutch at a human hand;
And weary could lie at length on the soft, sweet, saffron sand. . .
I have neither a voice nor hands, nor any friend nor a foe;
I am I--just a Pulse of Pain--I am I, that is all I know.
For Life, and the sickness of Life, and Death and desire to die;--
They have passed away like the smoke, here is nothing but Pain and I.
High Wind Blowin'
(ArmandChater)
There's such a high wind blowing and it's snowing in my bed.
Oh, baby, you started flowers growing where nothing grew instead.
I need something to hide the failure of my garden and the way it grew.
Oh, baby, I didn't know I could depend on you.
It's such a high wind blowing, I won't get to sleep tonight.
I think that warm wind feel's all right.
It's such a high wind blowing, I won't get to sleep at all.
I feel like I'm gonna fall into your fine, high wind.
You look like twilight falling on the ocean in the setting sun.
Oh, baby, do you know what you have done?
I feel like you have changed my mind about living the way I do.
Oh, baby, I didn't know I could depend on you.
It's such a high wind blowing, I won't get to sleep tonight.
I think that warm wind feel's all right.
It's such a high wind blowing, I won't get to sleep at all.
I feel like I'm gonna fall into your fine, high wind.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dearest brother! (song)
Oh brother of mine, why don't you just die tonight.
oh brother, oh brother, oh brother... just die tonight.
i can see it now your lying in the snow,
blood red all aroung,
from your head down to you toes.
Oh brother of mine, why don't you just die tonight.
Nobodys around, it will be a sweet sound.
good bye Good Bye GOOD BYE! ! !
theres joy in my face,
i'll put you in that place,
not heven but hell,
where you've always belonged.
oh brother, oh brother, oh brother... just die tonight.
nobody would care,
your just a piece of air,
everything will be sweet,
it will be neat,
the my best treat
Its amazing, i know this is ture,
its all gonna come after you,
its all gonna come, come when your gone
Oh brother just die just die just DIE tonight
You'll be on the missing person list,
for a min, or two,
untill we realize this,
NOBODY LIKES YOU!
Oh brother of mine, why don't you just die tonight.
oh brother, oh brother, oh brother... just die tonight.
i can see it now your lying in the snow,
blood red all aroung,
from your head down to you toes.
you'll do us a favor, so put that to your head,
and wish for your sweet death.
Say your good byes, though nobody will cry
just pull that God damn trigger and just die.
Oh brother of mine why don't you just die.
JUST FCUKING DIE! ! !
***(i don't accually wish death on my brother, i was just very angry at him at the time. but hay... you would too if you were the only girl in the family of 6 children....yes that means i have 5 older brothers. it sucks major ass.) ****
poem by Katie Unknown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Boy Jack
1914-1918
'Have you news of my boy Jack?'
Not this tide.
'When d'you think that he'll come back?'
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
'Has anyone else had word of him?'
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing and this tide.
'Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?'
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind-
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.
Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Have You News of my Boy Jack?
'Have you news of my boy Jack?'
Not this tide.
'When d'you think that he'll come back?'
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
'Has anyone else had word of him?'
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing and this tide.
'Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?'
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind-
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.
Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Great Heart
Great heart
By: johnny clegg
1987
Travelling always increases the appetite for new music and I found johnny clegg tapes in the south of france and was immediately hooked on them. Im glad there are still younger artists who writ
Play their own songs that I wish I had written. this is one of them.
(chant)
The world is full of strange behavior
Every man has to be his own savior
I know I can make it on my own if I try
But Im searchin for a great heart to stand me by
Underneath the african sky
A great heart to stand me by
Chorus:
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
To hold and keep me by
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Under african sky
Sometimes I feel that you rarely know me (sometimes)
Sometimes theres so much you can show me (sometime)
Theres a highway of stars across the heavens
Theres a whispering song of the wind in the grass
Theres a rolling thunder across the savannah
And a hope and a dream at the edge of the sky
And your life is the story of the wind
Your life is a story like the wind
Chorus:
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
To hold and keep me by
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Under african sky
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
I see the fire in your eyes
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
That beats my name inside
Sometimes I feel that you rarely know me (sometimes)
Sometimes theres so much you can show me (sometime)
(chant)
Chorus:
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
To hold and stand me by
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Under african sky
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
I see the fire in your eyes
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
That beats my name inside
Sometimes I feel that you rarely know me (ah... sometimes)
Sometimes theres so much you can show me (ay yai... sometime)
Coda:
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Guk a mzimbo sala nhilziyo
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Guk a mzimbo sala nhilziyo
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Guk a mzimbo sala nhilziyo
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Guk a mzimbo sala nhilziyo
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At First. To Charlotte Cushman.
My crippled sense fares bow'd along
His uncompanioned way,
And wronged by death pays life with wrong
And I wake by night and dream by day.
And the Morning seems but fatigued Night
That hath wept his visage pale,
And the healthy mark 'twixt dark and light
In sickly sameness out doth fail.
And the woods stare strange, and the wind is dumb,
-- O Wind, pray talk again --
And the Hand of the Frost spreads stark and numb
As Death's on the deadened window-pane.
Still dumb, thou Wind, old voluble friend?
And the middle of the day is cold,
And the heart of eve beats lax i' the end
As a legend's climax poorly told.
Oh vain the up-straining of the hands
In the chamber late at night,
Oh vain the complainings, the hot demands,
The prayers for a sound, the tears for a sight.
No word from over the starry line,
No motion felt in the dark,
And never a day gives ever a sign
Or a dream sets seal with palpable mark.
And O my God, how slight it were,
How nothing, thou All! to thee,
That a kiss or a whisper might fall from her
Down by the way of Time to me:
Or some least grace of the body of love,
-- Mere wafture of floating-by,
Mere sense of unseen smiling above,
Mere hint sincere of a large blue eye,
Mere dim receipt of sad delight
From Nearness warm in the air,
What time with the passing of the night
She also passed, somehow, somewhere.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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Second Best
Here in the dark, O heart;
Alone with the enduring Earth, and Night,
And Silence, and the warm strange smell of clover;
Clear-visioned, though it break you; far apart
From the dead best, the dear and old delight;
Throw down your dreams of immortality,
O faithful, O foolish lover!
Here's peace for you, and surety; here the one
Wisdom - the truth! - 'All day the good glad sun
Showers love and labour on you, wine and song;
The greenwood laughs, the wind blows, all day long
Till night.' And night ends all things.
Then shall be
No lamp relumed in heaven, no voices crying,
Or changing lights, or dreams and forms that hover!
(And, heart, for all your sighing,
That gladness and those tears are over, over. . . .)
And has the truth brought no new hope at all,
Heart, that you're weeping yet for Paradise?
Do they still whisper, the old weary cries?
‘’Mid youth and song, feasting and carnival,
Through laughter, through the roses,as of old
Comes Death, on shadowy and relentless feet,
Death, unappeaseable by prayer or gold;
Death is the end, the end!’
Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greet
Death as a friend!
Exile of immortality, strongly wise,
Strain through the dark with undesirous eyes
To what may lie beyond it. Sets your star,
O heart, for ever! Yet, behind the night,
Waits for the great unborn, somewhere afar,
Some white tremendous daybreak. And the light,
Returning, shall give back the golden hours,
Ocean a windless level, Earth a lawn
Spacious and full of sunlit dancing-places,
And laughter, and music, and, among the flowers,
The gay child-hearts of men, and the child-faces
O heart, in the great dawn!
poem by Rupert Brooke (1908)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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