Oh, the Sight Entrancing
Oh, the sight entrancing,
When morning's beam is glancing
O'er files array'd
With helm and blade,
And plumes in the gay wind dancing!
When hearts are all high beating
And the trumpet's voice repeating
That song, whose breath
May lead to death,
But never to entreating.
Oh, the sight entrancing,
When morning's beam is glancing
O'er files array'd
With helm and blade,
And plumes in the gay wind dancing!
Yet, tis not helm or feather --
For ask yon despot, whether
His plumed bands
Could bring such hands
And hearts as ours together.
Leave pomps to those who need 'em --
Give man but heart and freedom,
And proud he braves
The gaudiest slaves
That crawl where monarchs lead 'em.
The sword may pierce the beaver,
Stonewalls in time may sever,
'Tis mind alone,
Worth steel and stone,
That keeps men free for ever.
Oh, that sight entrancing,
When the morning's beam is glancing,
O'er files array'd
With helm and blade,
And in Freedom's cause advancing!
poem by Thomas Moore
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Related quotes
Imogen
(A Lady of Tender Age)
Ladies, where were your bright eyes glancing,
Where were they glancing yester-night?
Saw ye Imogen dancing, dancing,
Imogen dancing all in white?
Laughed she not with a pure delight,
Laughed she not with a joy serene,
Stepped she not with a grace entrancing,
Slenderly girt in silken sheen?
All through the night from dusk to daytime
Under her feet the hours were swift,
Under her feet the hours of play-time
Rose and fell with a rhythmic lift:
Music set her adrift, adrift,
Music eddying towards the day
Swept her along as brooks in May-time
Carry the freshly falling May.
Ladies, life is a changing measure,
Youth is a lilt that endeth soon;
Pluck ye never so fast at pleasure
Twilight follows the longest noon.
Nay, but here is a lasting boon,
Life for hearts that are old and chill,
Youth undying for hearts that treasure
Imogen dancing, dancing still.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Six Blade Knife
Your six blade knife can do anything for you
Anything you want it to
One blade for breaking my heart
One blade for tearing me apart
Your six blade knife-do anything for you
You can take away my mind like you take away the top of a tin
When you come up from behind and lay it down cold on my skin
Took a stone from my soul when I was lame
Just so you could make me tame
You take away my mind like you take away the top of a tin
Id like to be free of it now - I dont want it no more
Id like to be free of it now - you know I dont want it no more
Everybody got a knife it can be just what they want it to be
A needle a wife or something that you just cant see
You know it keeps you strong
Yes and itll do me wrong
Your six blade knife - do anything for you
song performed by by Dire Straits
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tears Come
In the flood of tears we drown and curse,
Forcing statements entrancing us.
The flood has arrived for our enjoyment,
To matter, the rains have us perished.
Days of dancing are nights so entrancing,
Mathematics is the sin of this planet.
Master of enjoyment is about and around,
Forming rage and more rage in straight lines.
Instruct the engine of hate to whistle
In the attempt to love and no more hate.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Lover
Lover, when Im near you, and I hear you, speak my name
Softly, in my ear you, breathe a flame
Lover, when were dancing, keep on glancing, in my eyes
Till loves own entrancing, music dies
All of my future is in you
Your every plan I design
Promise youll always continue
To be mine
Lover, please be tender, when youre tender, fears depart
Lover, I surrender, to my heart
(instrumental bridge)
Lover, its immoral, but why quarrel, with our bliss
When, two lips of coral, want to kiss
I say the devil is in you, and to resist you, I try
But if you didnt continue, I would die
Lover, please be tender, when youre tender, fears depart
Lover, I surrender, to my heart
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reflex Musings: Reflections from Various Surfaces
In the dense entangled street,
Where the web of Trade is weaving,
Forms unknown in crowds I meet
Much of each and all believing;
Each his small designs achieving
Hurries on with restless feet,
While, through Fancy’s power deceiving,
Self in every form I greet.
Oft in yonder rocky dell
Neath the birches’ shadow seated,
I have watched the darksome well,
Where my stooping form, repeated,
Now advanced and now retreated
With the spring’s alternate swell,
Till destroyed before completed
As the big drops grew and fell.
By the hollow mountain-side
Questions strange I shout for ever,
While the echoes far and wide
Seem to mock my vain endeavour;
Still I shout, for though they never
Cast my borrowed voice aside,
Words from empty words they sever—
Words of Truth from words of Pride.
Yes, the faces in the crowd,
And the wakened echoes, glancing
From the mountain, rocky browed,
And the lights in water dancing—
Each my wandering sense entrancing,
Tells me back my thoughts aloud,
All the joys of Truth enhancing
Crushing all that makes me proud.
poem by James Clerk Maxwell
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A Song For All Lovers
This song was first released on the the wildlife concert album. it is the only album it has been released on.
I see them dancing somewhere in the moonlight
Somewhere in alaska, somewhere in the sun
I hear them singing a song for all lovers
A song for the two hearts beating only as one
Imagine the morning no longer alone
The arms of another, a place to belong
No longer the struggle, no longer the night
And ever becoming in the quickening light
To see the darkness, to listen within
To answer in kindness, to ever begin
To ever be gentle, to always be strong
To walk in the wonder, to live in the song
In a place of enchantment where the wild things are known
Will the future remember when the lovers are gone?
And I see them dancing somewhere in the moonlight
Somewhere in alaska, somewhere in the sun
I hear them singing a song for all lovers
A song for the two hearts beating only as one
A song for the two hearts beating only as one
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Let God Have His Ways!
If things don’t happen in the ways they should,
And plead I did for justice umptine times,
Why should I for the clumsiness then brood?
Instead of dinars, they give me just dimes!
Why should I care when I am not to blame!
My honest work will prove its worth someday;
My ‘bosses’ have no conscience or shame;
The files are made to look unfit their way!
But am I eager for my promotion
From hearts of stone and unfair, unjust hands?
Their words are like a poisonous potion,
Inviting me to join clandestine bands!
God will do things for me in His own way;
I ought to be most patient till that day.
poem by John Celes
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The Woodcarver
the Woodcarver works
in the morning stillness,
with chisel and blade
and an eye for intimate detail...
sunlight sifts through the windows,
time caught, a butterfly in the hand
that's careful not to close...
no extravagant movements...
nothing left undone...
life, a bare bulb, almost
too hot to touch...
the hands of the spirit tell all...
with a gentle blade,
sharp as death, yet allowing...
He unveils your heart
in the stillness of an empty room.
the Woodcarver works...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Candle in the Wind
Candle in the Wind
entrancing, entrancing
the way you flicker and flicker
holding on so tenuously
tenaciously to the light of life
to stage a shadow dance
you tiptoe your way so
effortlessly and subtly onto
my heart, my soul, evoking
memories of last autumn
you stepped out of my life,
so sudden, so abrupt, the leaves
strained to hold a a million of your smiles
gliding, trailing, twirling in the winds
your memories now flicker
flicker like the bristles of an artist's brush
that infuses a pastiche of warm
and rueful pathos onto our
fleeting and fluctuating relationships
candle in the wind
I feel like a candle in the wind
holding onto its light
fighting to keep myself alighted,
to make my own existence relevant
candle in the wind
I feel like a candle in the wind
holding onto light
fighting to keep my own
existence relevant
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For E. McC
Gone while your tastes were keen to you,
Gone where the grey winds call to you,
By that high fencer, even Death,
Struck of the blade that no man parrieth;
Such is your fence, one saith,
One that hath known you.
Drew you your sword most gallantly
Made you your pass most valiantly
'Gainst that grey fencer, even Death.
Gone as a gust of breath
Faith! no man tarrieth,
‘Se il cor ti manca,’ but it failed thee not!
'Non ti fidar,’ it is the sword that speaks
‘In me.’
Thou trusted'st in thyself and met the blade
'Thout mask or gauntlet, and art laid
As memorable broken blades that be
Kept as bold trophies of old pageantry.
As old Toledos past their days of war
Are kept mnemonic of the strokes they bore,
So art thou with us, being good to keep
In our heart's sword-rack, though thy sword-arm sleep.
ENVOI
Struck of the blade that no man parrieth
Pierced of the point that toucheth lastly all,
'Gainst that grey fencer, even Death,
Behold the shield! He shall not take thee all.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Looking At The Soldiers
“Mother, the trumpets are sounding to-day,
And the soldiers go by in their gallant array!
Their horses prance gaily, their banners float free,
Come, come to the window, dear mother, with me.
“Do you see how their bayonets gleam in the sun,
And their soldier-plumes nod, as they slowly march on?
And look to the regular tread of their feet!
Keeping time to the sound of the kettle-drum's beat.
“This, mother, you know, is a glorious day,
And Americans all should be joyous and gay;
For the Fourth of July saw our country set free;
But you look not delighted, dear mother, like me!”
“No, love; for that shining and brilliant display,
To me only tells of war's fearful array;
And I know that those bayonets, flashing so bright,
Were made in man's blood to be spoil'd of their light.
“And the music that swells up so sweet to the ear,
In a long gush of melody, joyous and clear,
Just as freely would pour out its wild thrilling flood,
To stir up men's hearts to the shedding of blood!
“Our country, my boy, as you tell me, is free,
But even that thought brings a sadness to me;
For less guilt would be hers, were her own fetter'd hand
Unable to loosen her slaves from their band.
“We joy that our country's light bonds have been broke,
But her sons wear, by thousands, a life-crushing yoke;
And yon bayonets, dear, would be sheathed in their breast,
Should they fling off the shackles that round them are prest.
“Even ‘midst these triumphant rejoicings, to-day,
The slave-mother weeps for her babes, torn away,
'Midst the echoing burst of these shouts, to be sold,
Human forms as they are, for a pittance of gold!
“Can you wonder then, love, that your mother is sad,
Though yon show is so gay, and the crowd is so glad?
Or will not my boy turn with me from the sight,
To think of those slaves sunk in sorrow and night?”
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Still Heart
When I give up the helm
I know that the time has come for thee to take it.
What there is to do will be instantly done.
Vain is this struggle.
Then take away your hands
and silently put up with your defeat, my heart,
and think it your good fortune to sit perfectly still
where you are placed.
These my lamps are blown out at every little puff of wind,
and trying to light them I forget all else again and again.
But I shall be wise this time and wait in the dark,
spreading my mat on the floor;
and whenever it is thy pleasure, my lord,
come silently and take thy seat here.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Pleasures
I like to find
what's not found
at once, but lies
within something of another nature,
in repose, distinct.
Gull feathers of glass, hidden
in white pulp: the bones of squid
which I pull out and lay
blade by blade on the draining board--
tapered as if for swiftness, to pierce
the heart, but fragile, substance
belying design. Or a fruit, mamey,
cased in rough brown peel, the flesh
rose-amber, and the seed:
the seed a stone of wood, carved and
polished, walnut-colored, formed
like a brazilnut, but large,
large enough to fill
the hungry palm of a hand.
I like the juicy stem of grass that grows
within the coarser leaf folded round,
and the butteryellow glow
in the narrow flute from which the morning-glory
opens blue and cool on a hot morning.
poem by Denise Levertov
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Seen By The Waits
Through snowy woods and shady
We went to play a tune
To the lonely manor-lady
By the light of the Christmas moon.
We violed till, upward glancing
To where a mirror leaned,
We saw her airily dancing,
Deeming her movements screened;
Dancing alone in the room there,
Thin-draped in her robe of night;
Her postures, glassed in the gloom there,
Were a strange phantasmal sight.
She had learnt (we heard when homing)
That her roving spouse was dead;
Why she had danced in the gloaming
We thought, but never said.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Middle Of The Riddle
At the edge of the moon theres a lonely man
And he blows on his horn as strong as he can
And the girl at the bar wipes the breath of winter away with a smile of her face
And a little black dog barks along with a loon
Is this my appointment or did I come too soon
Got a strange invitation for tea time twas given by somebody I cant recall
Its the middle of the riddle, its not very serious
Its nothing but a big surprise
And the presidents horse is a rabbit of course that is living in a big boys mind
Living in a big boys mind
And I skate on a knife on a wire
That is strung from this song to a distant shore and then I say
Intuition is just another phase of chance
While were crawling through the old pyramids floors
(little pharaohs)
And the little black dog, here it comes again
Its a true companion in a foreign land
On a quest for the valley of boojums and birthdays and phonecalls I cannot recall
All of man shant talk to the one at the helm
And the man at the helm shall talk to no one, shall talk to no one at all
(rule 42)
And a horse is a rabbit of course
(yes, indeed)
Yes, a horse is a rabbit of course
Gold/1988
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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True Soldier
You're off in war
While the love of your life is here
Be sure to come back
Be sure to come back for her
Don't forget the sights of our U.S.A.
The freedoms along with every privilege
Every privilege
Every privilege
(chorus)
You're fighting for freedom
You're fighting for rights
You're fighting to keep America in sight
Fighting for freedom
Fighting for rights
Fighting to keep my America in sight
Our affection is w/ you along w/ our pride
Keep us alive
Keep us alive
the tattoo on your arm reminds you of death
And friends who have died
The friend who has died
(chorus)
You're fighting for freedom
You're fighting for rights
You're fighting to keep America in sight
Fighting for freedom
Fighting for rights
Fighting to keep my America in sight
Down on her knees your mom prays for you
She's begging the Lord to bring you home safe
Come home safe
Please come home safe
Fly in the sky w/ all of your crew
Don't close your eyes the enemy stays true
You know what they can do
You know what they can do
(chorus)
You're fighting for freedom
You're fighting for rights
You're fighting to keep America in sight
Fighting for freedom
Fighting for rights
Fighting to keep my America in sight
*song for my amazing uncle overseas right now
The Files
Files
The Files -
Office Files !
Oblige me by referring to the Files.
Every question man can raise,
Every phrase of every phrase
Of that question is on record in the Files -
(Threshed out threadbare - fought and finished in the Files
Ere the Universe at large
Was our new-tipped arrows' targe -
Ere we rediscovered Mammon and his wiles
Faeza gentle reader, spent her-five-and-twentieth leader
(You will find him, and some others, in the Files).
Warn all coming Robert Brownings and Carlyles,
It will interest them to hunt among the Files
Where unvisited, a-cold,
Lie the crowded years of old
In that Kensal-Green of greatness called the Files
(In our newspaPère-la-Chaise the Office Files),
Where the dead men lay them down
Meekly sure of long renown,
And above them, sere and swift,
Packs the daily deepening drift
Of the all-recording, all-effacing Files
The obliterating, automatic Files.
Count the mighty men who slung
Ink, Evangel, Sword, or Tongue
When Reform and you were young
Made their boasts and spake according in the Files
(Hear the ghosts that wake applauding in the Files!)
Trace each all-forgot career
From long primer through brevier
Unto Death, a para minion in the Files
(Para minion-solid-bottom of the Files). . . .
Some successful Kings and Queens adorn the Files.
They were great, their views were leaded,
And their deaths were triple-headed,
So they catch the eye in running through the Files
(Show as blazes in the mazes of the Files);
For their 'paramours and priests,'
And their gross, jack-booted feasts,
And their 'epoch-marking actions' see the Files.
Was it Bomba fled the blue Sicilian isles?
Was it Saffi, a professor
Once of Oxford, brought redress or
Garibaldi? Who remembers
Forty-odd-year-old Septembers? -
Only sextons paid to dig among the Files (Such as I am, born and bred among the Files).
You must hack through much deposit
Ere you know for sure who was it
Came to burial with such honour in the Files (Only seven seasons back beneath the Files).
'Very great our loss and grievous - 'So our best and brightest leave us,
'And it ends the Age of Giants,' say the Files;
All the '60-'70-'80'-'90 Files
(The open-minded, opportunist Files ?
The easy ' 0 King, live for ever ' Files).
It is good to read a little in the Files;
'Tis a sure and sovereign balm
Unto philosophic calm,
Yea, and philosophic doubt when Life beguiles
When you know Success is Greatness,
When you marvel at your lateness
In apprehending facts so plain to Smiles
(Self-helpful, wholly strenuous Samuel Smiles).
When your Imp of Blind Desire
Bids you set the Thames afire,
You'll remember men have done so - in the Files.
You'll have seen those flames transpire - in the Files
(More than once that flood has run so - in the Files).
When the Conchimarian horns
Of the reboantic Norns
Usher gentlemen and ladies
With new lights on Heaven and Hades,
Guaranteeing to Eternity
All yesterday's modernity;
When Brocken-spectres made by
Some one's breath on ink parade by,
Very earnest and tremendous,
Let not shows of shows offend us.
When of everything we like we
Shout ecstatic: ' Quod ubique,
'Quod ab omnibus means semper!
Oh, my brother, keep your temper!
Light your pipe and take a look along the Files.
You've a better chance to guess
At the meaning of Success
(Which is Greatness - vide Press)
When you've seen it in perspective in the Files !
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Rated X
Blazing steel on the horizon
In the desert
Forces like the ultimate poseidon
The arrival
Although it burns your eyes
The government denies
Rated x
Not allowed to know
Its rated x
No files to show
The men in power call you liars
Its suppression
They say you never saw it so forget it
All oppression
Theyre passing on the lies
The bunkers full of files
Rated x
You better not care
Its rated x
The facts are somewhere out there
Can we ever trust each other
To believe in
They keep the information under cover
Its not needed
The legacy is born
They classify us all
Rated x
Not allowed to know
Its rated x
No files to show
Rated x
You better not care
Its rated x
The facts are somewhere out here
Rated x
Its rated x
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lady Of The Lake
Theres a magical sound slidin over the ground
Makin it shiver and shake
And a permanent cry fallin out of the sky
Slippery and sly like a snake
With a delicate move kind of shifty and smooth
A shadow has covered the light
Then a beam in the shade from a silvery blade
Has shattered the edge of the night
I know she waits below
Only to rise on command
When she comes for me
Shes got my life in her hands
When a movement behind hit the side of my mind
I trembled and shook it away
Then another assault and I started to faulter
Fibres of steel turned to clay
With a bubbly turn now the water should churn
And push it way from the core
And a lady in white will bring sun to the night
Brighter than ever before
I know she waits below
Only to rise on command
When she comes for me
Shes got my life in her hands
Lady of the lake
Theres a magical sound slidin over the ground
Makin it shiver and shake
And a permanent cry fallin out of the sky
Slippery and sly like a snake
With a delicate move kind of shifty and smooth
A shadow has covered the light
Then a beam in the shade from a slivery blade
Has shattered the edge of the night
Straight down Im swirling around
Blinded and bruised by the strain
There must be some way to see
Diamonds out of the rain
I know she waits below
Only to rise on command
When she comes for me
Shes got my life in her hands
Lady of the lake
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Franchise Demonstration
'Twas in the year of 1884, and on Saturday the 20th of September,
Which the inhabitants of Dundee will long remember
The great Liberal Franchise Demonstration,
Which filled their minds with admiration.
Oh! it was a most magnificent display,
To see about 20 or 30 thousand men all in grand array;
And each man with a medal on his breast;
And every man in the procession dressed in his best.
The banners of the processionists were really grand to see-
The like hasn't been seen for a long time in Dundee;
While sweet music from the bands did rend the skies,
And every processionist was resolved to vote for the Franchise.
And as the procession passed along each street,
The spectators did loudly the processionists greet;
As they viewed their beautiful banners waving in the wind,
They declared such a scene would be ever fresh in their mind.
The mustering of the processionists was very grand,
As along the Esplanade each man took his stand,
And as soon as they were marshalled in grand array,
To the Magdalen Green, in haste, they wended their way.
And when they arrived on the Magdalen Green,
I'm sure it was a very beautiful imposing scene-
While the cheers of that vast multitude ascended to the skies,
For the "Grand Old Man," Gladstone, the Hero of the Franchise,
Who has struggled very hard for the people's rights,
Many long years, and many weary nights;
And I think the "Grand Old Man" will gain the Franchise,
And if he does, the people will laud him to the skies.
And his name should be written in letters of gold :
For he is a wise statesman- true and bold-
Who has advocated the people's rights for many long years;
And when he is dead they will thank him with their tears.
For he is the man for the working man,
And without fear of contradiction, deny it who can;
Because he wishes the working man to have a good coat,
And, both in town and country, to have power to vote.
The reason why the Lords won't pass the Franchise Bill :
They fear that it will do themselves some ill;
That is the reason why they wish to throw it out,
Yes, believe me, fellow citizens, that's the cause without doubt.
The emblems and mottoes in the procession, were really grand,
The like hasn't been seen in broad Scotland;
Especially the picture of Gladstone- the nation's hope,
Who is a much cleverer man than Sir John Cope.
There were masons and ploughmen all in a row,
Also tailors, tenters, and blacksmiths, which made a grand show;
Likewise carters and bakers which was most beautiful to be seen,
To see them marching from the Esplanade to the Magdalen Green.
I'm sure it was a most beautiful sight to see,
The like has never been seen before in Dundee;
Such a body of men, and Gladstone at the helm,
Such a sight, I'm sure, 'twould the Lords o'erwhelm.
Oh! it was grand to see that vast crowd,
And to hear the speeches, most eloquent and loud,
That were made by the speakers, regarding the Franchise;
While the spectators applauded them to the skies.
And for the "Grand Old Man" they gave three cheers,
Hoping he would live for many long years;
And when the speeches were ended, the people's hearts were gay,
And they all dispersed quietly to their homes without delay.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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