The Rambler
I do not see the hills around,
Nor mark the tints the copses wear;
I do not note the grassy ground
And constellated daisies there.
I hear not the contralto note
Of cuckoos hid on either hand,
The whirr that shakes the nighthawk's throat
When eve's brown awning hoods the land.
Some say each songster, tree and mead--
All eloquent of love divine--
Receives their constant careful heed:
Such keen appraisement is not mine.
The tones around me that I hear,
The aspects, meanings, shapes I see,
Are those far back ones missed when near,
And now perceived too late by me!
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Related quotes
Nighthawk
Gypsy woman told me
I've got to walk the night
Like a fallen angel,
I'm blinded by the light.
I need to find a love child,
Who never did no wrong.
A superstitious woman
To love me all night long.
Let me love you.
My heart beats like a hammer,
I'm scared of being alone,
I never thought i'd see the day
I'd curse when i was born.
Caught up in a fever, running hot 'n cold,
I need a sweet young woman
To satisfy my soul.
Let me love you.
Nighthawk, nighthawk
Shadow of the light,
A loner in the city streets
Crying in the night.
Nighthawk, nighthawk
Howling at the sky,
When the moon is on the rise
You'll hear the nighthawk cry.
Let me love you, let me love you.
(solo)
Let me love you, let me love you, let me love you.
Gypsy woman told em
I've got to walk the night,
Like a fallen angel
I'm blinded by the light.
Caught up in a fever running hot 'n' cold,
Need a sweet young woman to satisfy my soul.
Let me love you.
Nighthawk, nighthawk
Shadow of the light,
A loner in the city streets
Crying in the night.
Nighthawk, nighthawk
Howling at the sky,
When the moon is on the rise
You'll hear the nighthawk cry.
Let me love you...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night Hawk (Vampire Blues)
Gypsy woman told me
Ive got to walk the night
Like a fallen angel,
Im blinded by the light.
I need to find a love child,
Who never did no wrong.
A superstitious woman
To love me all night long.
Let me love you.
My heart beats like a hammer,
Im scared of being alone,
I never thought Id see the day
Id curse when I was born.
Caught up in a fever, running hot n cold,
I need a sweet young woman
To satisfy my soul.
Let me love you.
Nighthawk, nighthawk
Shadow of the light,
A loner in the city streets
Crying in the night.
Nighthawk, nighthawk
Howling at the sky,
When the moon is on the rise
Youll hear the nighthawk cry.
Let me love you, let me love you.
(solo)
Let me love you, let me love you, let me love you.
Gypsy woman told em
Ive got to walk the night,
Like a fallen angel
Im blinded by the light.
Caught up in a fever running hot n cold,
Need a sweet young woman to satisfy my soul.
Let me love you.
Nighthawk, nighthawk
Shadow of the light,
A loner in the city streets
Crying in the night.
Nighthawk, nighthawk
Howling at the sky,
When the moon is on the rise
Youll hear the nighthawk cry.
Let me love you...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Barrier
I must not gaze at them although
Your eyes are dawning day;
I must not watch you as you go
Your sun-illumined way;
I hear but I must never heed
The fascinating note,
Which, fluting like a river reed,
Comes from your trembing throat;
I must not see upon your face
Love's softly glowing spark;
For there's the barrier of race,
You're fair and I am dark.
poem by Claude McKay
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The Goat Crossing The Moat
The Capote is afloat beside the goat
Crossing the moat to read the note
And keep the quote in its throat
A tote does not vote that is what you wrote
So back to the rote eating the oat and
Smash the mote hidden on the boat
The seas bloat so you devote a bank note
For the seed coat of a wild oat
& scare quote for your strep throat
As Joseph's coat dote the eight note.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Johnny One Note
Johnny could only sing one note
And the note he sings was this
Ah!
Poor johnny one-note
Sang out with gusto
And just overlorded the place
Poor johnny one-note
Yelled willy nilly
Until he was bleu in the face
For holding one note was his ace
Couldnt hear the brass
Couldnt hear the drum
He was in a class
By himself, by gum!
Poor johnny one-note
Got in aida
Indeed a great chance to be brave
He took his one note
Howled like the north wind
Brought forth wind that made critics rave,
While verdi turned round in his grave!
Couldnt hear the flute
Or the big trombone
Evry one was mute
Johnny stood alone.
Cats and dogs stopped yapping
Lions in the zoo
All were jealous of johnnys big trill
Thunder claps stopped clapping,
Traffic ceased its roar,
And they tell us niagra stood still.
He stopped the train whistles,
Boat whistles,
Steam whistles,
Cop whistles,
All whistles bowed to his skill
Sing johnny one-note,
Sing out with gusto and
Just overwhelm all the crowd
Ah!
So sing johnny one-note, out loud!!
Sing johnny one-note
Sing johnny one-note out loud!
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Principal's Office
Now as I get to school I hear the late bell ringing,
runnning through the halls, I hear the glee club singing,
and as I get to the office I can hardly speak,
cause it's the third late pass that I got this week,
so to my first class I run and don't walk,
all I hear is my sneakers and the scratching of chalk,
and as I get to the room I hear the teacher say,
Mr. Young I'm very happy you could join us today,
I try to sit down so I can take some notes,
but I can't read what the kind next to me wrote,
and if that wasn't enough to make my morning complete,
as I try to get up, I find this gum on my seat,
so with the seat stuck to me, I raised my hand,
and said, exscuse me but can I go to the bathroom, maam?
the teacher got upset, and she screamed out no,
it's off the principal's office you go,
Verse 2:
12 o'clock comes with mass hysteria,
everybody rushes down to the cafeteria,
picked up my tray to have Thursday's lunch,
and as I tried the apple sauce, I heard it crunch,
I'm running up the stairs with my front tooth broken,
the nurse just laughed, and said you must be joking,
I looked up at her with a smile on my face,
no joke 'cause my front tooth is out of place,
so I walked to school with ice on my lip,
the nurse's late pass like a gun on my hip,
my books are real heavey, I'm walking, I'm dragging,
ain't no school lunch next week, I'm brown-bagging it,
forget class, I'm a shoot some ball,
with the late pass I got no trouble at all,
but then the nurse walks up and says what do you know,
it's office to the prinicipal's office you go
recess
Verse 3:
passing notes is my favorite pass time,
I can't wait to find a girl to pass mine to,
to express my feelings,
give me a week B, and the girl' be dealing,
now one young lady was looking at me,
I said hi my name is Marvin, known as Young MC,
but then the ball rang, and the teacher came in,
and that's when the game of passin notes would begin,
I wrote the first note, told her she was fine,
and I hoped that the two of us could spend some time,
she wrote me back and told me you're fine too,
I'd love to go on a date and spend some time with you,
so then I sat there reeling, and looking at the ceiling,
words can't express the way that I was feeling,
then I though to myself, the sure way to get her,
is to write another note, oh yes, a love letter,
when I finished the note, it was ready to pass,
the teacher took it, and read it right in front of the class,
she read it word-by-word and line-by-line,
and everybody who was laughing was a friend of mine,
even then my girl was laughing, and it was too late,
for me to write another note 'cause there would be no date,
the teacher looked at me, and I said I know,
it's off to the principal's office I go,
yo, you think this is bad, wait til I get my report card
song performed by by Young MC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Under The Balcony
O beautiful star with the crimson mouth!
O moon with the brows of gold!
Rise up, rise up, from the odorous south!
And light for my love her way,
Lest her little feet should stray
On the windy hill and the wold!
O beautiful star with the crimson mouth!
O moon with the brows of gold!
O ship that shakes on the desolate sea!
O ship with the wet, white sail!
Put in, put in, to the port to me!
For my love and I would go
To the land where the daffodils blow
In the heart of a violet dale!
O ship that shakes on the desolate sea!
O ship with the wet, white sail!
O rapturous bird with the low, sweet note!
O bird that sits on the spray!
Sing on, sing on, from your soft brown throat!
And my love in her little bed
Will listen, and lift her head
From the pillow, and come my way!
O rapturous bird with the low, sweet note!
O bird that sits on the spray!
O blossom that hangs in the tremulous air!
O blossom with lips of snow!
Come down, come down, for my love to wear!
You will die on her head in a crown,
You will die in a fold of her gown,
To her little light heart you will go!
O blossom that hangs in the tremulous air!
O blossom with lips of snow!
poem by Oscar Wilde
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Will He No Come Back Again?
Royal Charlie's now awa,
Safely owre the friendly main;
Mony a heart will break in twa,
Should he ne'er come back again.
Will you no come back again?
Will you no come back again?
Better lo'ed you'll never be,
And will you no come back again?
Mony a traitor 'mang the isles
Brak the band o' nature's law;
Mony a traitor, wi' his wiles,
Sought to wear his life awa.
Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
The hills he trode were a' his ain,
And bed beneath the birken tree;
The bush that hid him on the plain,
There's none on earth can claim but he.
Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
Whene'er I hear the blackbird sing,
Unto the e'ening sinking down,
Or merl that makes the woods to ring,
To me they hae nae ither soun',
Than, Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
Mony a gallant sodger fought,
Mony a gallant chief did fa';
Death itself were dearly bought,
A' for Scotland's king and law.
Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
Sweet the lav'rock's note and lang,
Lilting wildly up the glen;
And aye the o'erword o' the sang
Is "Will he no come back again?"
Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
Will He No Come Back Again?
Royal Charlie's now awa,
Safely owre the friendly main;
Mony a heart will break in twa,
Should he ne'er come back again.
Will you no come back again?
Will you no come back again?
Better lo'ed you'll never be,
And will you no come back again?
Mony a traitor 'mang the isles
Brak the band o' nature's law;
Mony a traitor, wi' his wiles,
Sought to wear his life awa.
Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
The hills he trode were a' his ain,
And bed beneath the birken tree;
The bush that hid him on the plain,
There's none on earth can claim but he.
Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
Whene'er I hear the blackbird sing,
Unto the e'ening sinking down,
Or merl that makes the woods to ring,
To me they hae nae ither soun',
Than, Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
Mony a gallant sodger fought,
Mony a gallant chief did fa';
Death itself were dearly bought,
A' for Scotland's king and law.
Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
Sweet the lav'rock's note and lang,
Lilting wildly up the glen;
And aye the o'erword o' the sang
Is "Will he no come back again?"
Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rebel
WITH none to heed or mark
The prisoner in his cell,
In a dungeon, lone and dark,
He tuned his wild farewell.
The harp whose strings might never breathe again
The joyous sounds it gave to Freedom's strain,
With hurried chords, his trembling fingers woke;
And thus the brave, but captive rebel spoke :--
Farewell! mine own dear land!
That I have loved thee well,
This faint, but blood-red hand,
These iron fetters tell:
And if I weep, it is not for the breeze,
At summer evenings whispered thro' the trees;
Though I would die to breathe that air again--
I weep, to think upon my country's chain!
Farewell to those I loved,
Whom I no more shall see;
And, oh! in sorrow proved,
To those who once loved me,
With whom beneath the chesnut's spreading shade
In happy days of infancy, I played;
Who never more will hear the rebel's name
Without a blush, a crimson blush, of shame.
Oh! I am young to die,
Forsaken thus by all:
With none to hear me sigh,
With none to weep my fall.
How my heart yearns for joys for ever flown--
My mother's hand--my sister's gentle tone!
And wishes wild within my bosom swell,
In sorrow's broken tones to bid farewell!
Land of untrodden hills!
Where still, in happy dreams,
I hear the mountain rills,
Leap forth in gushing streams:
I love thee so, that fearfully I shrink
From death, whose power will burst each galling link;
And sigh to live, though life no more be free,
Lest, in the grave, I dream no more of thee!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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I Hear A Symphony
Your givin me true love
And everyday I thank the lord
For a feeling thats so new
So inviting so exciting
Whenever your near
I hear a symphony
A tender melody
Pulling me closer, closer to your arms
Then suddenly your lips are touching mine
A feeling so divine, still I need a path because
Im lost in a world
Made for you and me
Oooh...
Baby, baby
I hear a symphony
Ooooh... baby
Whenever your near
I hear a symphony
Played sweet and tenderly
Everytime your lips meet mine, my baby
Baby, baby
I feel the joy begin
Dont let this feeling end
Let it go on and on and on now baby
Baby, baby
Those tears that filled my eyes
I cried not for myself
But for those who have never felt the joy of love
Baby, baby
Whenever your near
I hear a symphony
Each time you speak of me
I hear a tender note so sweet of love
Baby, baby
As you stand there holding me
Whispering how much you care
A thousand violins fill the air, now
Baby, baby
Dont let this moment end
Keep standing close to me
So close to me my baby, baby, baby
Baby, baby
I hear a symphony
A tender melody
I hear a symphony
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trico's Song
What bird so sings, yet so does wail?
O 'tis the ravish'd nightingale.
Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu! she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick-song! Who is't now we hear?
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat
Poor robin redbreast tunes his note!
Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing
Cuckoo! to welcome in the spring!
Cuckoo! to welcome in the spring!
Spring's Welcome
WHAT bird so sings, yet so does wail?
O 'tis the ravish'd nightingale.
Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu! she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick-song! Who is't now we hear?
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat
Poor robin redbreast tunes his note!
Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing
Cuckoo! to welcome in the spring!
Cuckoo! to welcome in the spring!
What Bird So Sings, Yet So Does Wail?
What bird so sings, yet so does wail?
Oh, 'tis the ravished nightingale.
Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu, she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick-song! Who is't now we hear?
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
How at heaven's gates she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat
Poor robin redbreast tunes his note;
Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing
Cuckoo, to welcome in the spring,
Cuckoo, to welcome in the spring.
The Splendor Of The Days
Sweet and shrill the crickets hiding in the grasses brown and lean
Pipe their gladness-sweeter, shriller-one would think the world was green.
O the haze is on the hilltops, and the haze is on the lake!
See it fleeing through the valley with the bold wind in its wake!
Mark the warm October haze!
Mark the splendor of the days!
And the mingling of the crimson with the sombre brown and grays!
See the bare hills turn their furrows to the shine and to the glow;
If you listen you can hear it, hear a murmur soft and low-
'We are naked,' so the fields say, 'stripped of all our golden dress.'
'Heed it not,' October answers, 'for I love ye none the less.
Share my beauty and my cheer
While we rest together here,
In these sun-filled days of languor, in these late days of the year.'
All the splendor of the summer, all the springtime's light and grace,
All the riches of the harvest, crown her head and light her face;
And the wind goes sighing, sighing, as if loath to let her pass,
While the crickets sing exultant in the lean and withered grass.
O the warm October haze!
O the splendor of the days!
O the mingling of the crimson with the sombre brown and grays!
poem by Jean Blewett
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The Voice I Remember
I remember the voice. Quiet,
soft as a caress on the back of my neck,
coating my heart and mind
the way dust settles
when the air goes still.
A landslide of light
swallowing everything in its path,
leaving all undisturbed, cool
and dressed to face the sun.
I remember the way his voice carried my name
like a prince to the throne.
The voice was strength and calm in the same note
-the last note he ever sang.
I remember the voice. I hear that note
and I know the way home.
poem by Ronald Shields
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Behold the beautiful wooden box
Behold the beautiful wooden box
Within it, is a faded suicide note
Underneath, lies a knife
Your blood remains on the blade forever
But did you really mean to leave it there
Did you really mean to leave me alone
I've cried over you for so long
Now it's time to meet once more
I set my suicide note with yours
And I take the knife in my hand
I can still hear your voice, like a haunting mellody
Did you really mean to leave me
I slice through the veins in my wrist
Then I set the knife back in the box
And leave it in the hollow tree
As I lie on your grave and cry one last time
I have become so weak
I can hardly breathe now
Then I hear your soft voice
Telling me it's okay to close my eyes now
I whisper to you I'm sorry I waited so long
As I close my eyes to your deadly kiss
Now we're together again
And this time nothing shall ever part us
Behold the beautiful wooden box
Within it, are two faded suicied notes
Underneath, lie two halves of two broken hearts
Which death has stiched together
To make our love whole again
poem by Echo Burke
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The Wood Road
If I were to walk this way
Hand in hand with Grief,
I should mark that maple-spray
Coming into leaf.
I should note how the old burrs
Rot upon the ground.
Yes, though Grief should know me hers
While the world goes round,
It could not if truth be said
This was lost on me:
A rock-maple showing red,
Burrs beneath a tree.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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This Little Note
This is just a little note, to let you know I adore you;
No surprise I am sure, yet, never forget this, I implore you;
Perhaps one solitary moment you will find yourself
Reading these very words, and remind yourself-
That, no matter where you may then be-
We are made much the better, when we
Allow ourselves to be loved-and to love, in return;
With you considerate-the former is granted, the latter, I must earn;
I know our worlds have been quite desparate-
Yet I know, there is a world of wonder, here before us;
The Fates wish for us to consort:
This is our destiny, I shall allow naught to detour us;
Perhaps one day, far removed from whence first, you did read this little note,
You will be gladdened that you did heed this little note!
-Maurice Harris,14 January 2011
poem by Maurice Harris
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Ascription
O thou who hast beneath Thy hand
The dark foundations of the land,--
The motion of whose ordered thought
An instant universe hath wrought,--
Who hast within Thine equal heed
The rolling sun, the ripening seed,
The azure of the speedwell's eye.
The vast solemnities of sky,--
Who hear'st no less the feeble note
Of one small bird's awakening throat,
Than that unnamed, tremendous chord
Arcturus sounds before his Lord,--
More sweet to Thee than all acclaim
Of storm and ocean, stars and flame,
In favor more before Thy face
Than pageantry of time and space.
The worship and the service be
Of him Thou madest most like Thee,--
Who in his nostrils hath Thy breath,
Whose spirit is the lord of death!
poem by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
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