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Saint Cloud

Soft spread the southern sumer night
Her veil of darksome blue;
Ten thousand stars combined to light
The terrace of Saint Cloud.

The evening breezes gently sigh'd,
Like breath of lover true,
Bewailing the deserted pride
And wreck of sweet Saint Cloud.

The drum's deep roll was heard afar,
The bugle wildly blew
Good-night to Hulan and Hussar
That garrison Saint Cloud.

The startled Naiads from the shade
With broken urns withdrew
And silenced was that proud cascade,
The glory of Saint Cloud.

We sate upon its steps of stone,
Nor could its silence rue
When waked, to music of our own,
The echoes of Saint Cloud.

Slow Seine might hear each lovely note
Fall light as summer dew
While through the moonless air they float
Prolong'd from fair Saint Cloud.

And sure a melody more sweet
His waters never knew,
Though music's self was wont to meet
With Princes at Saint Cloud.

Nor then, with more delighted ear,
The circle round her drew,
Than ours, when gather'd round to hear
Our songstress at Saint Cloud.

Few happy hours poor mortals pass-â€”
Then give those hours their due,
And rank among the foremost class
Our evenings at Saint Cloud.

poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life of a Cloud

Warming thermals whisper as they rise,
To tell us they are soon to bring to view
In cooler air aloft before your eyes:
A gentle wisp to counterpoint the blue.

Powder puffs emerge to grant her grace
That further bloom as would for stately tree, and
Yield a sight that calls for our embrace:
Another cloud anew above the lea.

Cruising forth, she yearns for ageless life.
O how her hopes will soon be dashed in vain,
For up there in the cold she courts her strife,
To fade away as drops of closing rain.

Scant and lacy speak her living span,
And fair among us could be brought to mourn,
But she was there to populate her clan:
From fallen tears, new daughters will be born.

A cloudy sky

sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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25 (Thyagaraja) Musicians Admired the Saint

Musicians around the country
Heard the growing popularity
Of the great Saint Thyagaraja,
O’er his devotion to Lord Rama.

They all came one by one,
To the Tiruvaiyar Town
Heard his music, in turn,
Gave him their appreciation.

Gopinatha Bhattacharya from Kasi,
A musician famous in Hindustani,
He came all the way to meet
And hear the songs of the Saint.

Pleased with his request,
A song came out
From the Saint then
A pleasant melodious one.

(He sang in Raga Thodi
Dasaradhi Nee Runamu Theerpa Naa
Tharama Parama Pavana Nama)

“Oh the great Dasaradha’s son,
How can I repay your loan?
Oh Master of my listeners,
For whom my music shines.”

“To me, you only taught,
Both day and night,
All the songs, more divine,
For the pleasure of my fans.”

Thus, it was his humbleness,
That brought him greatness.
Besides the melody part
Of each song that came out.

A Saint who loved music,
Who lived always for music,
Whose very breath was music
Gave an eternal life to his music.

poem by Rajaram Ramachandran
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Clouds By Number

Cloud Nine lived a life of fantasy,
Barely conceding the existence of Cloud Eight,
Who felt jealousy for Cloud Seven's
Silver lining,
Although it was saturnine.
Cloud Six lived a life in a daze,
Dozing in the sun's rays;
While Cloud Five held a bellyful of rain
That it wept onto
The arid plain.
Cloud Four came out of nowhere,
Hugging Cloud Three,
Making way, hurriedly, for Cloud Two,
Who shot lightning and thunder,
And like a magic trick
Became Cloud One.
The Great Funnel Cloud,
Who left nothing after its short reign
But a painful memory and a swollen path to be filled with regrets.

poem by Stan Petrovich
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Little Saint Nick

Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
Oooooooo oooooooo
Well, way up north where the air gets cold
Theres a tale about christmas that youve all been told
And a real famous cat all dressed up in red
And he spends the whole year workin out on his sled
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Just a little bobsled we call it old saint nick
But shell walk a toboggan with a four speed stick
Shes candy-apple red with a ski for a wheel
And when santa hits the gas, man, just watch her peel
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Run run reindeer
Run run reindeer
Whoaa
Run run reindeer
Run run reindeer
He dont miss no one
And haulin through the snow at a frightenin speed
With a half a dozen deer with rudy to lead
Hes gotta wear his goggles cause the snow really flies
And hes cruisin every pad with a little surprise
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Ahhhhhh
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
Ahhhhhh
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
Ahhhhhh
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year

song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cloud 8

(tony martin/byron hill)
I hear em laughing on cloud 9
In a world so happy just above mine
No ones leaving like you left me
They got each other got all they need, but
Here on cloud 8
A lotta nothings going on
Im just drifting day to day
Out here on my own
While up on cloud 9
I hear em party all the time
They dont hear my heart break
Down here on cloud 8
We almost made it up where they are
But losing your love
Brought me down hard
Now Im just hanging, just getting by
Where expectations arent that high, but
Here on cloud 8
A lotta nothings going on
Im just drifting day to day
Out here on my own
While up on cloud 9
I hear em party all the time
They dont hear my heart break
Down here on cloud 8
While up on cloud 9
I hear em party all the time
They dont hear my heart break
Down here on cloud 8
They dont hear my heart break
Down here on cloud 8

song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A saint is a person who gives of themself without asking for anything in return. That's how simple it is to be a saint. Try it! Try being a saint.

quote by Edward James Olmos
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A saint is a person who gives himself without asking for anything in return. That's how simple it is to be a saint. Try it! Try being a saint.

quote by Edward James Olmos
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Voice In Your Hand

The voice in your hand
Under the sky my eyelids float

Come closer in my palms
Myrtle from Eden

Above the line of innocence
A holy cloud walks away

On the knees of Goddess
Voice as language is a saint

(with a music of Motohiko Hirami)

poem by Nicolas Grenier
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Some Day One Day

You never heard my song before the music was too loud
But now I think you hear me well for now we both know how
No star can light our way in this cloud of dark and fear
But some day, one day...
Funny how the pages turn and hold us in between
A misty castle waits for you and you shall be a queen
Today the cloud it hangs over us and all is grey
But some day, one day...
When I was you and you were me and we were very young
Together took us nearly there the rest may not be sung
So still the cloud it hangs over us and were alone
But some day, one day...
Well come home

song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What is the cloud to the sun?

For what is the cloud to the sun,
It is nothing. The wind has always
Driven it away and the sun does not
Care. For want of love and care, the
Cloud plays with the fields and the
River and the sea. Impregnated it
Has conceived, and gives
Birth to the rain. The fields and the
Sea and the rivers feasted. The fields
Grow the grass and the flowers.
The sea and the rivers have
Seeded its waters with more fish.
The cloud does not like it. It has
Always dreamt of the sun but the
Wind has always blown it away.
At night the cloud talks to the moon.
And seeing the likeness of its light
To the sun that it loves, the cloud
Makes love with the shining moon.
It has given birth to the stars.
The following morning, the cloud
Is exhausted. It floats with the
Chastisements of the wind. There
Is no more direction. It still dreams
Of the sun. It dies and becomes
Taken as part of the wind. The
Cloud has become a white, clear
Sky. It is nothing. It is what you
See, when love is unrequited.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Of The Redeemed

Saint Peter, standing at the Gate, beheld
A soul whose body Death had lately felled.

A pleasant soul as ever was, he seemed:
His step was joyous and his visage beamed.

'Good morning, Peter.' There was just a touch
Of foreign accent, but not overmuch.

The Saint bent gravely, like a stately tree,
And said: 'You have the advantage, sir, of me.'

'Renan of Paris,' said the immortal part
'A master of the literary art.

'I'm somewhat famous, too, I grieve to tell,
As controversialist and infidel.'

'That's of no consequence,' the Saint replied,
'Why, I myself my Master once denied.

'No one up here cares anything for that.
But is there nothing you were always at?

'It seems to me you were accused one day
Of _something_-what it was I can't just say.'

'Quite likely,' said the other; 'but I swear
My life was irreproachable and fair.'

Just then a soul appeared upon the wall,
Singing a hymn as loud as he could bawl.

About his head a golden halo gleamed,
As well befitted one of the redeemed.

A harp he bore and vigorously thumbed,
Strumming he sang, and, singing, ever strummed.

His countenance, suffused with holy pride,
Glowed like a pumpkin with a light inside.

'Ah! that's the chap,' said Peter, 'who declares:
'Renan's a rake and drunkard-smokes and swears.'

'Yes, that's the fellow-he's a preacher-came
From San Francisco. Mansfield was his name.'

'Do you believe him?' said Renan. 'Great Scott!
Believe? Believe the blackguard? Of course _not!

'Just walk right in and make yourself at home.
And if he pecks at you I'll cut his comb.

'He's only here because the Devil swore
He wouldn't have him, for the smile he wore.'

Resting his eyes one moment on that proof
Of saving grace, the Frenchman turned aloof,

And stepping down from cloud to cloud, said he:
'Thank you, monsieur,-I'll see if he'll have _me_.'

poem by Ambrose Bierce
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A Cloud In The Sky

There is a cloud in the sky and mixtures of colors floating around, now touch your lips and dream away. This is only a cloud in the sky, just only one cloud in the sky. Won’t you take me to the stars at night and watch them go flaying by, one by one they seem to fade into the night sky, now everything is alright. But when that sun comes out of his early morning bed, I’ll start to think of what I have done in my lifetime. You know that each night just brings the memories back to life, an you seem to be in a daze. And wondering to places where you never been. Now there is a cloud in the sky and it’s calling your name. Please come over here my darling and hold my hand tightly. Because you’re the light that shines on me.

Max Hornbogen
Feb 23,2008

poem by Max D. Hornbogen
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Get Off Of My Cloud

(mick jagger and keith richards)
I live in an apartment on the ninety-ninth floor of my block
And I sit at home looking out the window
Imagining the world has stopped
Then in flies a guy whos all dressed up like a union jack
And says, Ive won five pounds if I have his kind of detergent pack
I say, hey! you! get off of my cloud
Hey! you! get off of my cloud
Hey! you! get off of my cloud
Dont hang around cause twos a crowd
On my cloud baby
The telephone is ringing,
I say, hi, its me. who is it there on the line?
A voice says, hi, hello, how are you?
Well, I guess Im doin fine
He says, its three a.m., theres too much noise
Dont you people ever wanna go to bed?
Just cause you feel so good, do you have
To drive me out of my head?
I say, hey! you! get off of my cloud
Hey! you! get off of my cloud
Hey! you! get off of my cloud
Dont hang around cause twos a crowd
On my cloud baby
I was sick and tired, fed up with this,
And decided to take a drive downtown
It was so very quiet and peaceful
There was nobody, not a soul around
I laid myself out, I was so tired and I started to dream
In the morning the parking tickets were just like
A flag stuck on my window screen
I say, hey! you! get off of my cloud
Hey! you! get off of my cloud
Hey! you! get off of my cloud
Dont hang around cause twos a crowd
On my cloud
Hey! you! get off of my cloud
Hey! you! get off of my cloud
Hey! you! get off of my cloud
Dont hang around cause twos a crowd

song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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the modern martyr in the kingdom of God

i've just seen the picture of a man
devout catholic
gunned down in broad day,
falling to the ground,
and declared another martyr for
mother church,

sooner he becomes a saint
because he died
to the hands of the fanatics
the unbelievers,

sometimes i ask myself if this is the only way to become
a martyr, the only way to be a saint,
(does it really matter if one becomes a saint?)

i guess, there is another happy child of God
who has worked for the church
who cooked faith, who served beliefs,
who traveled far just to show how good God is,

the happy child does not have to die
for God wants him to be with his side,
smiling and alive,

He too is a saint. He sowed happiness.
He did not plant guilt. He did not grown scruples.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Puffy Cloud

Drift away on a puffy cloud
Go away on a puffy cloud
My brain is dead from too much pot
'cause (gene) (dean) and i smoke too much pot
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
Float away on a cotton ball
We write songs about the clouds
My brain is dead from too much pot
'cause (gene) (dean) and i smoke too much pot
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
Drift away on a puffy cloud
Go away on a puffy cloud
My brain is dead from too much pot
'cause (gene) (dean) and i smoke too much pot
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud

song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Puffy Cloud

song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sinner Or Saint

Stand bold, for the ride,
Right now, you know that is the place to be
To watch humankind, stumble into another century
Take no prisoners,
Their sure at giving you the run-around
Violance, on your mind,
Cus your attention is the battleground
What are you?
A sinner or saint
You gotta be
A sinner or saint
Ice cool walawyers,
Straight up and guerentee your gonna get
All that you deserve,
Sit down, blockin your way, seen nothin yet
(chorus)
What are you?
That is your fate
You gotta be
A sinner or saint
Some poeple love too fast
Some people live too long
And so Ive got to ask
Do you know right from wrong?
Disa-ssembler, will you ever, really be a saint...
Still on for the ride,
Who cares if you loose or win
They can bleed you dry,
When youre, a pumping the adrenelin
(chorus)
What are you?
Its never too late
You gotta be
A sinner or saint..

song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You cannot make a sinner into a saint by killing him. He who does not live as a saint here will never live as a saint hereafter.

quote by Charles Spurgeon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0109 Upon the Feast of Saint Valentine

roses are red
(well, some are white) :
Saint Valentine says
he needs poets to write...

roses are red
(well, some are pink) :
Saint Valentine says
he needs hearts expressed in ink..

poems are read;
that's the good news here;
Saint Valentine's day
could last all year...

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mr. Sheets

The Devil stood before the gate
Of Heaven. He had a single mate:
Behind him, in his shadow, slunk
Clay Sheets in a perspiring funk.
'Saint Peter, see this season ticket,'
Said Satan; 'pray undo the wicket.'
The sleepy Saint threw slight regard
Upon the proffered bit of card,
Signed by some clerical dead-beats:
'Admit the bearer and Clay Sheets.'
Peter expanded all his eyes:
''Clay Sheets?'-well, I'll be damned!' he cries.
'Our couches are of golden cloud;
Nothing of earth is here allowed.
I'll let you in,' he added, shedding
On Nick a smile-'but not your bedding.'

poem by Ambrose Bierce
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

Saint Cloud

Related quotes

Life of a Cloud

25 (Thyagaraja) Musicians Admired the Saint

Clouds By Number

Little Saint Nick

Cloud 8

The Voice In Your Hand

Some Day One Day

What is the cloud to the sun?

One Of The Redeemed

A Cloud In The Sky

Get Off Of My Cloud

the modern martyr in the kingdom of God

Puffy Cloud

Puffy Cloud

Sinner Or Saint

0109 Upon the Feast of Saint Valentine

Mr. Sheets

En.Citatepedia^®.ro