Fredericksburg
The increasing moonlight drifts across my bed,
And on the churchyard by the road, I know
It falls as white and noiselessly as snow . . . .
'Twas such a night two weary summers fled;
The stars, as now, were waning overhead.
Listen! Again the shrill-lipped bugles blow
Where the swift currents of the river flow
Past Fredericksburg; far off the heavens are red
With sudden conflagration; on yon height,
Linstock in hand, the gunners hold their breath;
A signal rocket pierces the dense night,
Flings its spent stars upon the town beneath;
Hark! -- the artillery massing on the right,
Hark! -- the black squadrons wheeling down to Death!
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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Related quotes
As The Snow Falls (song)
As the rain falls down,
It turns to snow.
As the snow falls down,
It hits the ground.
You look outside,
And it’s a sheet of white.
So you think,
Oh what a beautiful night.
The fire is warm,
And the coco too.
And you wonder,
What is next to do?
Looking outside,
All you see is white,
And stars in the sky…ayyy.
The stars are falling,
The stars are falling,
And they cover the ground.
The snow has fallen,
Snow has fallen,
And it covers the ground.
You sit there,
Lookin’ out your window,
Sippin’ on your coco. Oh
Watching as the rain falls down-
The snow falls down-
The stars fall down.
And you see,
All of natures beauty.
The rain falls down,
And it turns to snow.
The snow falls down,
And it hits the ground.
Lookin’ outside,
And it’s a sheet of white.
you bundle up,
and step outside.
standing in the cold,
you look around.
its all so calm and still.
Oh there’s not a single sound.
It’s a silent night,
Oh what a sight.
Snow covers the trees,
So beautiful to see.
Back inside you go
To the fire you stand,
With coco in hand.
You’re cozy and warm,
All alone.
It’s getting late,
So you sleep the night away.
As the rain fell down,
It turned to snow.
As the snow fell down,
It hit the ground.
And the sheet of white,
It disappeared.
The next day you wake,
And the beauty is gone.
The morning sun,
Thawed the lawn.
And the snowy wondrous night is done.
poem by Tessa Monaghan
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The Klondike
Never mind the day we left, or the day the women clung to us;
All we need now is the last way they looked at us.
Never mind the twelve men there amid the cheering—
Twelve men or one man, ’t will soon be all the same;
For this is what we know: we are five men together,
Five left o’ twelve men to find the golden river.
Far we came to find it out, but the place was here for all of us;
Far, far we came, and here we have the last of us.
We that were the front men, we that would be early,
We that had the faith, and the triumph in our eyes:
We that had the wrong road, twelve men together,—
Singing when the devil sang to find the golden river.
Say the gleam was not for us, but never say we doubted it;
Say the wrong road was right before we followed it.
We that were the front men, fit for all forage,—
Say that while we dwindle we are front men still;
For this is what we know tonight: we’re starving here together—
Starving on the wrong road to find the golden river.
Wrong, we say, but wait a little: hear him in the corner there;
He knows more than we, and he’ll tell us if we listen there—
He that fought the snow-sleep less than all the others
Stays awhile yet, and he knows where he stays:
Foot and hand a frozen clout, brain a freezing feather,
Still he’s here to talk with us and to the golden river.
“Flow,” he says, “and flow along, but you cannot flow away from us;
All the world’s ice will never keep you far from us;
Every man that heeds your call takes the way that leads him—
The one way that’s his way, and lives his own life:
Starve or laugh, the game goes on, and on goes the river;
Gold or no, they go their way—twelve men together.
“Twelve,” he says, “who sold their shame for a lure you call too fair for them—
You that laugh and flow to the same word that urges them:
Twelve who left the old town shining in the sunset,
Left the weary street and the small safe days:
Twelve who knew but one way out, wide the way or narrow:
Twelve who took the frozen chance and laid their lives on yellow.
“Flow by night and flow by day, nor ever once be seen by them;
Flow, freeze, and flow, till time shall hide the bones of them;
Laugh and wash their names away, leave them all forgotten,
Leave the old town to crumble where it sleeps;
Leave it there as they have left it, shining in the valley,—
Leave the town to crumble down and let the women marry.
“Twelve of us or five,” he says, “we know the night is on us now:
Five while we last, and we may as well be thinking now:
Thinking each his own thought, knowing, when the light comes,
Five left or none left, the game will not be lost.
Crouch or sleep, we go the way, the last way together:
Five or none, the game goes on, and on goes the river.
“For after all that we have done and all that we have failed to do,
Life will be life and a world will have its work to do:
Every man who follows us will heed in his own fashion
The calling and the warning and the friends who do not know:
Each will hold an icy knife to punish his heart’s lover,
And each will go the frozen way to find the golden river.”
There you hear him, all he says, and the last we’ll ever get from him.
Now he wants to sleep, and that will be the best for him.
Let him have his own way—no, you needn’t shake him—
Your own turn will come, so let the man sleep.
For this is what we know: we are stalled here together—
Hands and feet and hearts of us, to find the golden river.
And there’s a quicker way than sleep? … Never mind the looks of him:
All he needs now is a finger on the eyes of him.
You there on the left hand, reach a little over—
Shut the stars away, or he’ll see them all night:
He’ll see them all night and he’ll see them all tomorrow,
Crawling down the frozen sky, cold and hard and yellow.
Won’t you move an inch or two—to keep the stars away from him?
—No, he won’t move, and there’s no need of asking him.
Never mind the twelve men, never mind the women;
Three while we last, we’ll let them all go;
And we’ll hold our thoughts north while we starve here together,
Looking each his own way to find the golden river.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Fragment: Omens
Hark! the owlet flaps his wings
In the pathless dell beneath;
Hark! 'tis the night-raven sings
Tidings of approaching death.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Goblins Of The Steppes
Stormy clouds delirious straying,
Showers of whirling snowflakes white,
And the pallid moonbeams waning--
Sad the heavens, sad the night!
Further speeds the sledge, and further,
Loud the sleighbell's melody,
Grewsome, frightful 'tis becoming,
'Mid these snow fields now to be!
Hasten! 'That is useless, Master,
Heavier for my team their load,
And my eyes with snow o'er plastered
Can no longer see the road!
Lost all trace of our direction,
Sir, what now? The goblins draw
Us already round in circles,
Pull the sledge with evil claw!
See! One hops with frantic gesture,
In my face to grin and hiss,
See! It goads the frenzied horses
Onward to the black abyss!
In the darkness, like a paling
One stands forth,--and now I see
Him like walking-fire sparkling--
Then the blackness,--woe is me!'
Stormy clouds delirious straying,
Showers of snowflakes whirling white,
And the pallid moonbeams waning--
Sad the heavens, sad the night!
Sudden halt the weary horses,
Silent too the sleighbells whirr--
Look! What crouches on the ground there?
'Wolf,--or shrub,--I know not, Sir.'
How the wind's brood rage and whimper!
Scenting, blow the triple team;
See! One hops here! Forward Driver!
How his eyes with evil gleam!
Scarce controllable the horses,
How the harness bells resound!
Look! With what a sneering grimace
Now the spirit band surround!
In an endless long procession,
Formless, countless of their kind
Circle us in flying coveys
Like the leaves in Autumn wind.
Now in ghastly silence deathly,
Now with shrilling elfin cry--
Is it some mad dance of bridal,
Or a death march passing by?
Stormy clouds delirious straying
Showers of snowflakes whirling white,
And the pallid moonbeams waning--
Sad the heavens, sad the night!
Cloudward course the evil spirits
In unceasing phantom bands,
And their moaning and bewailing
Grip my heart with icy hands!
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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The Knight's Return
Hark! hark! hark!
The lark sings high in the dark.
The were wolves mutter, the night hawks moan,
The raven croaks from the Raven-stone;
What care I for his boding groan,
Riding the moorland to come to mine own?
Hark! hark! hark!
The lark sings high in the dark.
Hark! hark! hark!
The lark sings high in the dark.
Long have I wander'd by land and by sea,
Long have I ridden by moorland and lea;
Yonder she sits with my babe on her knee,
Sits at the window and watches for me!
Hark! hark! hark!
The lark sings high in the dark.
Written for music, 1857.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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Song of a Train
A monster taught
To come to hand
Amain,
As swift as thought
Across the land
The train.
The song it sings
Has an iron sound;
Its iron wings
Like wheels go round.
Crash under bridges,
Flash over ridges,
And vault the downs;
The road is straight --
Nor stile, nor gate;
For milestones -- towns!
Voluminous, vanishing, white,
The steam plume trails;
Parallel streaks of light,
THe polished rails.
Oh, who can follow?
The little swallow,
The trout of the sky:
But the sun
Is outrun,
And Time passed by.
O'er bosky dens,
By marsh and mead,
Forest and fens
Embodied speed
Is clanked and hurled;
O'er rivers and runnels;
And into the earth
And out again
In death and birth
That know no pain,
For the whole round world
Is a warren of railway tunnels.
Hark! hark! hark!
It screams and cleaves the dark;
And the subterranean night
Is gilt with smoky light.
Then out again apace
It runs its thundering race,
The monster taught
To come to hand
Amain,
That swift as thought
Speeds through the land
The train.
poem by John Davidson
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Winter Wonderland
There are strange and mysterious sounds
When the winds of winter blow,
The long nights are crystal clear and cold,
And the fields and meadows are covered with snow.
The stars are frosty against the sky,
And the wind's whistle is shrill,
As the snow blows against the house
And drifts against the hill.
Yet, I like to see during the winter
A white carpet on the ground,
To plod aimlessly in the deep snow,
where deer tracks abound.
I like to feel the stillness
Of a crisp winter's night,
Watching a full moon rise over the horizon,
Exposing a winter wonderland beautiful and bright.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Lost In The Stars
(kurt weill/maxwell anderson)
Before lord God made the sea and the land
He held all the stars in the palm of his hand
And they ran through his fingers like grains of sand
And one little star fall alone
Then the lord God hunted through the wild night air
For the little dark star in the wind down there
And he stated and promised hed take special care
So it wouldnt get lost again
Now, man dont mind if the stars grow dim
And the clouds blow over and darken him
So long as the lord gods watching over him
Keeping track how it all goes on
But Ive been walking through the night and the day
Till my eyes get weary and my hair turns grey
And sometimes it seems maybe gods gone away
Forgetting the promise that we heard him say
And were lost out here in the stars
Little stars, big stars
Blowing through the night
And were lost out here in the stars
Little stars, big stars
Blowing through the night
And were lost out here in the stars
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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River Of Love
Oh how i miss those days we spent by that old river.You and me sitting and looking up at the stars.Every little problem just disappeared into the night.
I looked you in those breath taking eyes and we would just get lost in our feelings.I look up at orion and those stars remind me of the river of love.
Those nights we spent together laying on the ground and just holding each other in our arms.Singing on the banks of that river and hoping it would never end.Oh how i miss that river of love.
poem by Jonathan Amador
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Heavens In Here
Baby I dream between the blade and the tongue
Of the rose on your cheek the wounded and dumb
We stumble and fall we stumble and fall
Skin on skin but theres heaven in
Heavens in here
Heavens in her
Among the twilight and star
Like a rocket to mars
Heaven in here
The first and the last are telling it all
Telling you loud but selling it small
Im taking a swing at this shadow of mine
Crucifix hangs an my hearts in my mouth
But its here
Heavens in here
Heavens in her
Among the twilight and stars
Like a rocket to mars
Heavens in here
Feeling it wanting
Mm mm m
Heaven in
Heaven lies between your marbled thighs
The rustle of your falling gown
We stumble and fall like tragedy falls
We stumble and twirl theres heaven in here
We stumble and fall uncertain we fall
Theres flesh on flesh but theres heaven in
Heavens in here
Heavens in here
Heavens in here
Among the twilight and stars
Like a rocket to mars
Heavens in here
Youll dance to my tongue
Well dance on the sun
Were the twilight and stars
And theres heaven in here
Heaven
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Call
(France, August first, 1914)
Far and near, high and clear,
Hark to the call of War!
Over the gorse and the golden dells,
Ringing and swinging of clamorous bells,
Praying and saying of wild farewells:
War! War! War!
High and low, all must go:
Hark to the shout of War!
Leave to the women the harvest yield;
Gird ye, men, for the sinister field;
A sabre instead of a scythe to wield:
War! Red War!
Rich and poor, lord and boor,
Hark to the blast of War!
Tinker and tailor and millionaire,
Actor in triumph and priest in prayer,
Comrades now in the hell out there,
Sweep to the fire of War!
Prince and page, sot and sage,
Hark to the roar of War!
Poet, professor and circus clown,
Chimney-sweeper and fop o' the town,
Into the pot and be melted down:
Into the pot of War!
Women all, hear the call,
The pitiless call of War!
Look your last on your dearest ones,
Brothers and husbands, fathers, sons:
Swift they go to the ravenous guns,
The gluttonous guns of War.
Everywhere thrill the air
The maniac bells of War.
There will be little of sleeping to-night;
There will be wailing and weeping to-night;
Death's red sickle is reaping to-night:
War! War! War!
poem by Robert William Service
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Lamp of Joy
Your hand touches the moonlight
You make the sea tremble
Earth cannot stop the stars
The wicked arm cannot prevent love
My open heart penetrates the night
Music above the badlands
Oak trees with noble cellos
Voices sweeter than songbirds
We meet like rain in the river
Blueberries grow along the lakes
Wolves are beautiful creations
Freedom is always wild
Come rest my love by the sea
Come listen to the tides
Are we not what we see?
Are we not the forest and hills?
Your past whispers like bluebirds
Tonight you are radiant
Love is a journey into the stars
I see the light of eons
Your hair falls like a garden
Your eyes like ancient moonlight
The shadows are warm elves
Tonight is a mystic candle
Romance lights the lamp of joy
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Night Sky
The Night Sky
Stars Were So Bright In The Nights Dark Sky
The Little Lights That Lit Up The Black Spots In Space
Stars That We Wondered In
And Saw Many Wonderful Things
Like The Many Stars That Are Out There...
How There Are So Many Lights In The Night Sky...
How The Night Sky Could Look So Great
In Only Black And White
The Same Thing, The Same Looks..
Yet So Many Objects And Point Outs Of Our Imagination
Oh, How The Night Sky
When We Look On about Its The Same Sky We See When We're Away From Each other
The Same Crescent Moon, The Same Stars
The Same Look Outs That Remind Me Of You.
poem by Gabina Gomez
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Watching The River Flow
While Sun shines bright
And the Moon is full aglow
That is the time
To sit and watch the river flow.
For that is the time
To write poems in the sand
And also in the mind
To hold a Lady's hand.
Heaven is above us
And Earth is still below
And not a better place to be
But to sit and feel the flow.
Fishes now are swimming
As the birds they do fly
Up and down the river
To where the bullfrogs cry,
Stars are shining bright
And the Moon is all aglow
While sitting beneath the moonlight
Listening to the river flow.
The shivers are going out
For the rivers flowing in
Up and down my life and soul,
Only to begin once again.
Heaven is above us
And the Earth is still below
How I love to sit and wish
And hear the river as it flow.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Veneta Marina
The masts rise white to the stars,
White on the night of the sky,
Out of the water's night,
And the stars lean down to them white.
Ah! how the stars seem nigh;
How far away are the stars!
And I too under the stars,
Alone with the night again,
And the water's monotone;
I and the night alone,
And the world and the ways of men
Farther from me than the stars.
poem by Arthur Symons
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A Dance For The Night Sky
Let's dance to this song
Just this once, we lose all bonds
Our bodies, cascading
We make the world our dance floor
To this final waltz, we sway like waves
Beneath the envious stars
Hearts bursting like fireworks on New Year's Eve
Every star, we claim as ours
We make our mark
Under the moon we dance
The only spark in the night
That could ever be brighter than the moonlight
I am the burning red, and you lush as gold
We illuminate the night's endless fold
A duet of colors, to light the desolate night sky
Brighter than the moon and stars, you and I
For just one night
Take my hand
My last chance
Lasts in this dance under the night sky
For I swear on my last breath
With you I'll make the moon and stars weep
As we dance the most beautiful waltz
The constellations will ever see
poem by Dan Debello
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With Tears They Buried You Today
With tears they buried you to-day,
But well I knew no turf could hold
Your gladness long beneath the mould,
Or cramp your laughter in the clay;
I smiled while others wept for you
Because I knew.
And now you sit with me to-night
Here in our old, accustomed place;
Tender and mirthful is your face,
Your eyes with starry joy are bright
Oh, you are merry as a song
For love is strong!
They think of you as lying there
Down in the churchyard grim and old;
They think of you as mute and cold,
A wan, white thing that once was fair,
With dim, sealed eyes that never may
Look on the day.
But love cannot be coffined so
In clod and darkness; it must rise
And seek its own in radiant guise,
With immortality aglow,
Making of death's triumphant sting
A little thing.
Ay, we shall laugh at those who deem
Our hearts are sundered! Listen, sweet,
The tripping of the wind's swift feet
Along the by-ways of our dream,
And hark the whisper of the rose
Wilding that blows.
Oh, still you love those simple things,
And still you love them more with me;
The grave has won no victory;
It could not clasp your shining wings,
It could not keep you from my side,
Dear and my bride!
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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The Thought
Into the skies, one summer's day,
I sent a little Thought away;
Up to where, in the blue round,
The sun sat shining without sound.
Then my Thought came back to me.—
Little Thought, what did you see
In the regions whence you come?
And when I spoke, my Thought was dumb.
But she breathed of what was there,
In the pure bright upper air;
And, because my Thought so shone,
I knew she had been shone upon.
Next, by night a Thought I sent
Up into the firmament;
When the eager stars were out,
And the still moon shone about.
And my Thought went past the moon
In between the stars, but soon
Held her breath and durst not stir,
For the fear that covered her;
Then she thought, in this demur:
'Dare I look beneath the shade,
Into where the worlds are made;
Where the suns and stars are wrought?
Shall I meet another Thought?
'Will that other Thought have wings?
Shall I meet strange, heavenly things?
Thought of Thoughts, and Light of Lights,
Breath of Breaths, and Night of Nights?'
Then my Thought began to hark
In the illuminated dark,
Till the silence, over, under,
Made her heart beat more than thunder.
And my Thought, came trembling back,
But with something on her track,
And with something at her side;
Nor till she has lived and died,
Lived and died, and lived again,
Will that awful thing seem plain.
poem by William Brighty Rands
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When winter does wrestle death
When winter does wrestle death
Snow lies falling with petals bereft
Her mantle a meadow white lily
Uprooting stars in heavens pity.
Veils of fine silk are spun to order
Wheeling moths circle and flutter.
Ferries-wheeled across the boarder
Our souls are curdled in god's butter.
When winter does wrestle death
No one's heart did feel bereft
Even the old drew a second breath.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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~Knight~
How dark that shadow you cast
over moonlight's silver strings,
You masked to blackest pitch
it is the night you bring.
Under moon high and laying low
within your raven wings,
I toss about throwing stars out
alighting far darkened things.
Wanes the moon who paled too soon
for knight his sword is swift,
When falls upon cleaves deep and long
until his darkness lifts.
7-1-06
version 2
How dark the shadow that's cast
upon moonlight's silver strings,
You, masked to blackest pitch
It is the night you bring.
Under moon high and laying low
within your raven wings,
Tossing about, burning stars out
Blacken far-darkened things.
Waning moon who pales too soon
The knight, his sword sinks swift,
When falls upon cleaves deep and long...
Until his darkness lifts.
poem by Sinnaminsun Sinnaminsun
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