En.Citatepedia^®.ro

My Dream About You

My grief 'twas unendurable
Suffocating each instant in my breaths sigh
Ne'er to forget the reality that 'twas you
Forever as the Benediction of light in the sky;
Oh, that final moment still tarrys too long
All the flowers burned in a pyre of despair
I looked for a book of answers or an anthem
Suffering 'twas almost too much to bear;
I chose to praise your inner beauty and balance
Loosing myself in the immortal life stream
Recalling your face in a fragment of sweet memory
Oh, how blessed, are those who can still dream;

poem by Theodora Onken
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Love's Young Dream

Oh! the days are gone, when Beauty bright
My heart's chain wove;
When my dream of life, from morn till night,
Was love, still love.
New hope may bloom,
And days may come,
Of milder calmer beam,
But there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream:
No, there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream.

Though the bard to purer fame may soar,
When wild youth's past;
Though he win the wise, who frown'd before,
To smile at last;
He'll never meet
A joy so sweet,
In all his noon of fame,
As when first he sung to woman's ear
His soul-felt flame,
And, at every close, she blush'd to hear
The one loved name.

No, -- that hallow'd form is ne'er forgot
Which first love traced;
Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot
On memory's waste.
'Twas odour fled
As soon as shed;
'Twas morning's winged dream;
'Twas a light, tht ne'er can shine again
On life's dull stream:
Oh! 'twas light that n'er can shine again
On life's dull stream.

poem by Thomas Moore
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No, Not More Welcome

No, not more welcome the fairy numbers
Of music fall on the sleeper's ear,
When half awaking from fearful slumbers,
He thinks the full quire of heaven is near --
Than came that voice, when, all forsaken,
This heart long had sleeping lain,
Nor thought its cold pulse would ever waken
To such benign blessed sounds again.

Sweet voice of comfort! 'twas like the stealing
Of summer wind through some wreathed shell --
Each secret winding, each inmost feeling
Of all my soul echoed to its spell.
'Twas whisper'd balm -- 'twas sunshine spoken! --
I'd live years of grief and pain
To have my long sleep of sorrow broken
By such benign blessed sounds again.

poem by Thomas Moore
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I had no Cause to be awake

542

I had no Cause to be awake—
My Best—was gone to sleep—
And Morn a new politeness took—
And failed to wake them up—

But called the others—clear—
And passed their Curtains by—
Sweet Morning—when I oversleep—
Knock—Recollect—to Me—

I looked at Sunrise—Once—
And then I looked at Them—
And wishfulness in me arose—
For Circumstance the same—

'Twas such an Ample Peace—
It could not hold a Sigh—
'Twas Sabbath—with the Bells divorced—
'Twas Sunset—all the Day—

So choosing but a Gown—
And taking but a Prayer—
The only Raiment I should need—
I struggled—and was There—

poem by Emily Dickinson
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Body Of God!

forgive me, i erred,
i thought God contained
in the wind.... but twas

only one breath of infinity!

i thought i saw God
in the starving child's eyes,
but twas only one heartbeat

of compassion!

i thought i heard God
in the cries of the dying
on the battlefields of greed...

but twas human despair!

i thought i found God
down in the homeless shelter,
but twas only the faces

of my brothers and sisters!

so i walked away,
thinking God didnt care....
then a voice startled me...

'but you're my body! '

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Twas Called Destiny

Day after day of our depart
Felt like souls were so apart
torn the bleeding of gloomy heart
'twas none false rather an art

Lie mine glimpse of her and thoughts
'twas not blue but evergreen
thus I realize 'twas thy-naught
mine dearest, Dulcinea, Queen

I-naught God to change that part
Our lives' novel yet to start
Sought mine princess, eye's of mine darling
evergreen, yet blood & immortal beating

Mine notorious canvas painted smile
barely truth, yet never a wile
the actress shalt never be the character
The beating's integration'll never dissever

As long as hands weren't held to hands
you'd hear my cry in thine dream lands
My beseech'Hey juliet! wanna be thine romeo! '
Listen close, for 'twas beating like stereo

Blind, I'm stepping my way to thee
Shoe by shoe, to my dream come true
Again if vision meet, 'twas no serendipity
'twasn't just fortunate, it's our destiny.

poem by Ellirie Aviles
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Tinker Dick

Good Parson Dickson preached, I'm told,
A sermon-ah, 'twas very old
And very, very, bald!
'Twas all about-I know not what
It was about, nor what 'twas not.
'A Screw Loose' it was called.

Whatever, Parson Dick, you say,
The world will get each blessed day
Still more and more askew,
And fall apart at last. Great snakes!
What skillful tinker ever takes
His tongue to turn a screw?

poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Again

Well, I've met her again-at the Mission.
She'd told me to see her no more;
It was not a command-a petition;
I'd granted it once before.

Yes, granted it, hoping she'd write me.
Repenting her virtuous freak-
Subdued myself daily and nightly
For the better part of a week.

And then ('twas my duty to spare her
The shame of recalling me) I
Just sought her again to prepare her
For an everlasting good-bye.

O, that evening of bliss-shall I ever
Forget it?-with Shakespeare and Poe!
She said, when 'twas ended: 'You're never
To see me again. And now go.'

As we parted with kisses 'twas human
And natural for me to smile
As I thought, 'She's in love, and a woman:
She'll send for me after a while.'

But she didn't; and so-well, the Mission
Is fine, picturesque and gray;
It's an excellent place for contrition
And sometimes she passes that way.

That's how it occurred that I met her,
And that's ah there is to tell-
Except that I'd like to forget her
Calm way of remarking: 'I'm well.'

It was hardly worth while, all this keying
My soul to such tensions and stirs
To learn that her food was agreeing
With that little stomach of hers.

poem by Ambrose Bierce
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To G. C. And R. L.

'TWAS you, or I, or he, or all together,
'Twas one, both, three of them, they know not whether;
This, I believe, between us great or small,
You, I, he, wrote it not--'twas Churchill's all.

poem by Oliver Goldsmith
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Twas Love—not me

394

'Twas Love—not me—
Oh punish—pray—
The Real one died for Thee—
Just Him—not me—

Such Guilt—to love Thee—most!
Doom it beyond the Rest—
Forgive it—last—
'Twas base as Jesus—most!

Let Justice not mistake—
We Two—looked so alike—
Which was the Guilty Sake—
'Twas Love's—Now Strike!

poem by Emily Dickinson
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Phantom Or Fact? A Dialogue In Verse

Author.
A lovely form there sate beside my bed,
And such a feeding calm its presence shed,
A tender love so pure from earthly leaven
That I unnethe the fancy might control,
'Twas my own spirit newly come from heaven
Wooing its gentle way into my soul!
But ah! the change -- It had not stirred, and yet
Alas! that change how fain would I forget?
That shrinking back, like one that had mistook!
That weary, wandering, disavowing Look!
'Twas all another, feature, look and frame,
And still, methought, I knew it was the same!

Friend.
This riddling Tale, to what does it belong?
Is't History? Vision? or an idle Song?
Or rather say at once, within what space
Of Time this wild disastrous change took place?

Author.
Call it a moment's work (and such it seems),
This Tale's a Fragment from the Life of Dreams;
But say, that years matured the silent strife,
And 'tis a Record from the Dream of Life.

poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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I Had No Need

I had no need to be awake.
'Twas better in my bed.
The thought of facing life without him
was a thought better dead.

I had no need to open my eyes.
'Twas better not to see.
The thought of seeing the sun without him
was devastating to me.

I had no need to know the time.
'Twas better that time slip away.
The thought of time lingering now
is endless time each day.

There are no needs that now are mine.
'Twas a time I had them all.
We woke, we saw and knew the time,
now too hurtful to recall.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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November's Chill

For 'twas in November's month
the change of guards took place
the month my heart fell to sleep
For 'twas in that darken time
our Love slowly faded away
and in passing, our words were few.

And I am left lonely an' oh so cold.....

For 'twas in November's month
we became two ships in passing
entering port's harbour at separate times
For 'twas in that lonely state
two hearts screamed of Love
and the sheets never warmed again.

And I am left lonely an' oh so cold.......

For 'twas in Novembers month
we tasted Love once again
and like the first time I know home
For 'twas in that lonely bed
separately we lay our heads
yet in dream, you are near as am I

No longer left lonely an' oh so cold...........

poem by Geoff Warden
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I Remember That Day In My Life

'twas early morning
when i climbed
the mango tree
and at the top
i sat on the big branch

for a long time
i looked at the
tranquility of the barrio
where i spent
my childhood

i breathed the air
filled my lungs with
so much peace

i did not have anything in mind
except that little escape
from every day's boredom

'twas a day without words.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To a Dead Poet

I knew not if to laugh or weep;
They sat and talked of you--
"'Twas here he sat; 'twas this he said!
'Twas that he used to do.

"Here is the book wherein he read,
The room wherein he dwelt;
And he" (they said) "was such a man,
Such things he thought and felt."

I sat and sat, I did not stir;
They talked and talked away.
I was as mute as any stone,
I had no word to say.

They talked and talked; like to a stone
My heart grew in my breast--
I, who had never seen your face
Perhaps I knew you best.

poem by Amy Levy
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Do You Believe In Him?

(vocals by lance diamond)
twas the night before christmas
And all through the house
By the color tv
Here asleep on the couch
All cozy and warm
With a dream for the light
Inside its safe
On a cold christmas night
Do you believe in him?
I dont know how long its been
Do you believe in him?
All you got to do is let him in
All you got to do is let him in
twas the night before christmas
And out on the street
Through the window the snow such a holiday treat
Outside the trees and the cars in the back
Are perfectly dressed for a wine when its time
Do you believe in him?
I dont know how long its been
Do you believe in him?
All you got to do is let him in
All you got to do is let him in
twas the night before xmas
A man sleeps alone
Out in the cold cause he aint got a home
Give him a hand, give him a share
Lets give him a smile
Instead of a stare
Do you believe in him?
I dont know how long its been
Do you believe in him?
All you got to do is let him in
All you got to do is let him in

song performed by by Goo Goo Dolls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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'Twas Na Her Bonie Blue E'e

'Twas na her bonie blue e'e was my ruin:
Fair tho' she be, that was ne'er my undoin.
'Twas the dear smile when naebody did mind us.
'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stoun glance o' kindness!

Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me,
Sair do I fear that despair maun abide me;
But tho' fell Fortune should fate us to sever,
Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever.

Chloris, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest,
And thou hast plighted me love o' the dearest,
And thou'rt the angel that never can alter -
Sooner the sun in his motion would falter!

poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Twas Summer

'Twas summer,-- through the opening grass
The joyous flowers upsprang,
The birds in all their different tribes
Loud in the woodlands sang:
Then forth I went, and wandered far
The wide green meadow o'er;
Where cool and clear the fountain play'd,
There strayed I in that hour.

Roaming on, the nightingale
Sang sweetly in my ear;
And, by the greenwood's shady side,
A dream came to me there;
Fast by the fountain, where bright flowers
Of sparkling hue we see,
Close sheltered from the summer heat,
That vision came to me.

All care was banished, and repose
Came o'er my wearied breast;
And kingdoms seemed to wait on me,
For I was with the blest.

Yet, while it seemed as if away
My spirit soared on high,
And in the boundless joys of heaven
Was wrapt in ecstacy,
E'en then, my body revelled still
In earth's festivity;
And surely never was a dream
So sweet as this to me.

Thus I dream'd on, and might have dwelt
Still on that rapturous dream,
When, hark! a raven's luckless note
(Sooth, 'twas a direful scream,)
Broke up the vision of delight,
Instant my joy was past:
O, had a stone but met my hand,
That hour had been his last....

poem by Walther von der Vogelweide
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To my small Hearth His fire came

638

To my small Hearth His fire came—
And all my House aglow
Did fan and rock, with sudden light—
'Twas Sunrise—'twas the Sky—

Impanelled from no Summer brief—
With limit of Decay—
'Twas Noon—without the News of Night—
Nay, Nature, it was Day—

poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Day that I was crowned

356

The Day that I was crowned
Was like the other Days—
Until the Coronation came—
And then—'twas Otherwise—

As Carbon in the Coal
And Carbon in the Gem
Are One—and yet the former
Were dull for Diadem—

I rose, and all was plain—
But when the Day declined
Myself and It, in Majesty
Were equally—adorned—

The Grace that I—was chose—
To Me—surpassed the Crown
That was the Witness for the Grace—
'Twas even that 'twas Mine—

poem by Emily Dickinson
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Tess's Lament

I

I would that folk forgot me quite,
   Forgot me quite!
I would that I could shrink from sight,
   And no more see the sun.
Would it were time to say farewell,
To claim my nook, to need my knell,
Time for them all to stand and tell
   Of my day's work as done.

II

Ah! dairy where I lived so long,
   I lived so long;
Where I would rise up stanch and strong,
   And lie down hopefully.
'Twas there within the chimney-seat
He watched me to the clock's slow beat -
Loved me, and learnt to call me sweet,
   And whispered words to me.

III

And now he's gone; and now he's gone; . . .
   And now he's gone!
The flowers we potted p'rhaps are thrown
   To rot upon the farm.
And where we had our supper-fire
May now grow nettle, dock, and briar,
And all the place be mould and mire
   So cozy once and warm.

IV

And it was I who did it all,
   Who did it all;
'Twas I who made the blow to fall
   On him who thought no guile.
Well, it is finished--past, and he
Has left me to my misery,
And I must take my Cross on me
   For wronging him awhile.

V

How gay we looked that day we wed,
   That day we wed!
"May joy be with ye!" all o'm said
   A standing by the durn.
I wonder what they say o's now,
And if they know my lot; and how
She feels who milks my favourite cow,
   And takes my place at churn!

VI

It wears me out to think of it,
   To think of it;
I cannot bear my fate as writ,
   I'd have my life unbe;
Would turn my memory to a blot,
Make every relic of me rot,
My doings be as they were not,
   And what they've brought to me!

poem by Thomas Hardy
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