En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Prince's Day

Though dark are our sorrows, today we'll forget them,
And smile through our tears, like a sunbeam in showers:
There never were hearts, if our rulers would let them,
More form'd to be grateful and blest than ours.
But just when the chain,
Has ceased to pain,
And hope has enwreathed it round with flowers,
There comes a new link,
Our spirits to sink --
Oh! the joy that we taste, like the light of the poles,
Is a flash amid darkness, too brilliant to stay;
But, though 'twere the last little spark in our souls,
We must light it up now, on our Prince's Day.

Contempt on the minion who calls you disloyal!
Though fierce to your foe, to your friends you are true;
And the tribute most high to a head that is royal,
Is love from a heart that loves liberty too.
While cowards, who blight
Your fame, your right,
Would shrink from the blaze of the battle array,
The Standard of Green
In front would be seen --
Oh, my life on your faith! were you summon'd this minute,
You'd cast every bitter remembrance away,
And show what the arm of old Erin has in it,
When roused by the foe, on her Prince's Day.

He loves the Green Isle, and his love is recorded
In hearts which have suffer'd too much to forget;
And hope shall be crown'd, and attachment rewarded,
And Erin's gay jubileee shine out yet.
The gem may be broke
By many a stroke,
But nothing can cloud its native ray;
Each fragment will cast
A light to the last --
And thus, Erin, my country, though broken thou art,
There's lustre wiithin thee, that ne'er will decay;
A spirit which beams through each suffering part,
And now smiles at all pain on the Prince's Day.

poem by Thomas Moore
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Erin, Oh Erin

Like the bright lamp, that shone in Kildare's holy fane,
And burn'd through long ages of darkness and storm,
Is the heart that sorrows have frown'd on in vain,
Whose spirit outlives them, unfading and warm.
Erin, oh Erin, thus bright through the tears
Of a long night of bondage, thy spirit appears.

The nations have fallen, and thou still art young,
Thy sun is but rising, when others are set;
And though slavery's cloud o'er thy morning hath hung,
The full noon of freedom shall beam round thee yet.
Erin, oh Erin, though long in the shade,
Thy star will shine out when the proudest shall fade.

Unchill'd by the rain, and unwaked by the wind,
The lily lies sleeping through winter's cold hour,
Till Spring's light touch her fetters unbind,
And daylight and liberty bless the young flower.
Thus Erin, oh Erin, thy winter is past,
And the hope that lived through it shall blossom at last.

poem by Thomas Moore
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Sublime Was the Warning

Sublime was the warning that liberty spoke,
And grand was the moment when Spaniards awoke
Into life and revenge from the conqueror's chain.
Oh, Liberty! let not this spirit have rest,
Till it move, like a breeze, o'er the waves of the west --
Give the light of your look to each sorrowing spot,
Nor, oh, be the Shamrock of Erin forgot
While you add to your garland the Olive of Spain.

If the fame of our fathers, bequeathed with their rights,
Give to country its charm, and to home its delights;
If deceit be a wound, and suspicion a stain,
Then, ye men of Iberia, our cause is the same!
And oh! may his tomb want a tear and a name,
Who would ask for a nobler, a holier death,
Than to turn his last sigh into victory's breath,
For the Shamrock of Erin and the Olive of Spain!

Ye Blakes and O'Donnels, whose fathers resign'd
The green hills of their youth, among strangers to find
That repose which, at home, they had sigh'd for in vain,
Join, join in our hope that the flame, which you light,
May be felt yet in Erin, as calm and as bright,
And forgive even Albion while blushing she draws,
Like a truant, her sword, in the long-slighted cause
Of the Shamrock of Erin and Olive of Spain!

God prosper the cause! -- oh, it cannot but thrive,
While the pulse of one patriot heart is alive,
Its devotion to feel, and its rights to maintain;
Then, how sainted by sorrow its martyrs will die!
The finger of Glory shall point where they lie;
While, far from the footstep of coward or slave,
The young spirit of Freedom shall shelter their grave,
Beneath Shamrocks of Erin and Olives of Spain!

poem by Thomas Moore
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Rich and Rare Were the Gems She Wore

Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore;
But oh! her beauty was far beyond
Her sparkling gems, or snow-white wand.

"Lady! dost thou not fear to stray,
So lone and lovely through this bleak way?
Are Erin's sons so good or so cold,
As not to be tempted by woman or gold?"

"Sir Knight! I feel not the least alarm,
No son of Erin will offer me harm: --
For though they love woman and golden store,
Sir Knight! they love honour and virtue more!"

On she went, and her maiden smile
In safety lighted her round the green isle;
And blest for ever is she who relied
Upon Erin's honour and Erin's pride.

poem by Thomas Moore
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The Exile Of Erin

There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill:
For his country he sign'd, when at twilight repairing
To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.
But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion,
For it rose o'er his own native isle fo the ocean,
Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion.
He sang the bold anthem of Erin Go Bragh!

'Sad is my fate!'- said the heart-broken stranger -
'The wild deer and wolf to the covert can flee;
But I have no refuge from famine and danger:
A home and a country remain not to me!
Never again, in my green, sunny bowers,
Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet hours;
Or cover my harp with the wild-woven flowers,
And strike to the numbers of Erin Go Bragh!

'Erin, my country! though sad and forsaken,
In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore!
But, alas! in a far - foreign land I awaken,
And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more!
Oh! cruel fate, wilt thou never replace me
In a mansion of peace, where no perils can chase me?
Never again shall my brothers embrace me!-
They died to defend me!- or live to deplore!

'Where is my cabin-door, fast by the wild wood?
Sisters and sire, did ye weep for its fall?
Where is the mother that looked on my childhood?
And where is the bosom-friend, dearer than all?
Ah! my sad soul, long abandoned by pleasure!
Why did it dote on a fast-fading treasure?
Tears, like the rain-drops, may fall without measure;
But rapture and beauty they cannot recall!

'Yet - all its fond recollections suppressing -
One dying wish my lone bosom shall draw:
Erin!- an exile bequeaths thee his blessing!
Land of my forefathers!- Erin go bragh!
Buried and cold, when my heart stills her motion,
Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean!
And thy harp-striking bards sind aloud with devotion,-
ERIN MAVOURNEEN! ERIN GO BRAGH!'

poem by Thomas Campbell
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Tis Gone, And For Ever

'Tis gone, and for ever, the light we saw breaking,
Like Heaven's first dawn o'er the sleep of the dead --
When Man, from the slumber of ages awaking,
Look'd upward, and bless'd the pure ray, ere it fled.
'Tis gone, and the gleams it has left of its burning,
But deepen the long night of bondage and mourning,
That dark o'er the kingdoms of earth is returning,
And darkest of all, hapless Erin, o'er thee.

For high was thy hope, when those glories were darting
Around thee, through all the gross clouds of the world;
When Truth, from her letters indignantly starting,
At once, like a sun-burst, her banner unfurl'd.
Oh! never shall earth see a moment so splendid!
Then, then -- had one Hymn of Deliverance blended
The tongues of all nations -- how sweet had ascended
The first note of liberty , Erin, from thee!

But, shame on those tyrants who envied the blessing!
And shame on the light race, unworthy its good,
Who, at Death's reeking altar, like furies, caressing
The young hope of Freedom, baptised it in blood.
Then vanish'd for ever that fair sunny vision,
Which, spite of the slavish, the cold heart's derision,
Shall long be remember'd, pure, bright, and elysian,
As first it arose, my lost Erin, on thee.

poem by Thomas Moore
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The Light of Love

The light of love rests upon my face
And from within...has set me free
Love's created my... happy heart
And of hopes...of things...I'll be

The light of love abides... within...
My soul now like child
Starts my broken heart...to blossoming
With warmth....and radaince...mild

Today I have purpose...By loves
rare light...I feel
Pure love...loves pure light to
My soul... it revealed

My family...let loves light devine
Shine on us...I say...
Touch our hearts...and eyes...
That all may see
Love on us...Love...convey

Now this... my only mission is... sacrad
To send loves message far
The light of love...is my heart
Love... my guiding star

I tell my family and.... well.... well... they never listen, to these words
That only true love can say
For only true love can convey

So...If you love someone
Then... follow that heart
For when love is real and true
From love you'll never depart
For only pure love can
Fix the man with broken heart

poem by Clyde Bryson
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We May Roam Through This World

We may roam through this world, like a child at a feast,
Who but sips of a sweet, and then flies to the rest;
And, when pleasure begins to grow dull in the east,
We may order our wings and be off to the west:
But if hearts that feel, and eyes that smile,
Are the dearest gifts that heaven supplies,
We never need leave our own green isle,
For sensitive hearts, and for sun-bright eyes.
Then, remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd,
Through this world, whether eastward or westward you roam,
When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round,
Oh! remember the smile which adorns her at home.

In England, the garden of Beauty is kept
By a dragon of prudery placed within call;
But so oft this unamiable dragon has slept,
That the garden's but carelessly watch'd after all.
Oh! they want the wild sweet-briery fence
Which round the flowers of Erin dwells;
Which warns the touch, while winning the sense,
Nor charms us least when it most repels.
Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd,
Through this world, whether eastward or westward you roam,
When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round,
Oh! remember the smile that adorns her at home.

In France, when the heart of a woman sets sail,
On the ocean of wedlock its fortune to try,
Love seldom goes far in a vessel so frail,
But just pilots her off, and then bids her good-bye.
While the daughters of Erin keep the boy,
Ever smiling beside his faithful oar,
Through billows of woe, and beams of joy,
The same as he look's when he left the shore.
Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd,
Through this world, whether eastward or westward you roam,
When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round,
Oh! remember the smile that adorns her at home.

poem by Thomas Moore
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Too Powerful to Extinguish

And there they stood...
Brilliant of speech and sunlight.
Souls pure and cleansed of spirit.
Standing on the side of the right and just.
Grouped and cast upon with evil eyes...
And demonic grins.
They were smeared and jeered
By those who did not understand their strength.
And surrounding them all was the Prince of Light.
Only those who knew Him and His 'glow'
Did not suffer pain or perish!
Their faith was too powerful to extinguish!
They lived eternally...
And knew it!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Why Is It?

Why is it so, Dear Prince of Peace,
That wrongs to Negroes never cease?
Are they disloyal to thy name,
And thus are punished for the same?

Is this thy training school on earth,
To mould a race of truest worth?
Pray is it thus that lives are pruned
And sanctified, for heaven tuned?

Thou art the refuge of the race,
That all its troubles will efface,
Wilt thou incline the wayward heart,
To keep thy law in ev'ry part?

'Tis needful that offences come,
But woe unto the man by whom!
They come the evil hearts to chain,
And drive them back to thee again.

For such afflictions, we are told,
Bring people nearer to the fold,
If this be true, then teach them now,
To such conditions here to bow.

Thy chosen people suffer here,
Such chastenings as children, dear,
With patience sweet, in peace and love,
Prepare their souls for life above.

They suffer from refining pains,
The kinds that raise to highest planes,
Can this be why, Dear Prince of Peace,
That wrongs to Negroes never cease?

poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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Erin! The Tear and the Smile in Thine Eyes

Erin! the tear and the smile in thine eyes
Blend like the rainbow that hangs in thy skies,
Shining through sorrow's stream,
Saddening through pleasure's beam,
Thy suns with doubtful gleam,
Weep while they rise.

Erin, thy silent tear never shall cease,
Erin, thy languid smile ne'er shall increase,
Till, like the rainbow's light,
Thy various tints unite,
And form in heaven's sight
One arch of peace!

poem by Thomas Moore
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Oh, the Shamrock

Through Erin's Isle
To sport awhile
As Love and Valour wander'd,
With Wit, the sprite,
Whose quiver bright
A thousand arrows squander'd;
Where'er they pass,
A triple grass
Shoots up, with dew-drops streaming,
As softly green
As emeralds seen
Through purest crystal gleaming.
Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
Chosen leaf
Of Bard and Chief,
Old Erin's native Shamrock!

Says Valour, "See,
They spring for me,
Those leafy gems of morning!" --
Says Love, "No, no,
For me they grow,
My fragrant path adorning."
But Wit perceives
The triple leaves,
And cries, "Oh! do not sever
A type that blends
Three godlike friends,
Love, Valour, Wit, for ever!"
Oh, the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
Chosen leaf, etc.

So firmly fond
May last the bond
They wove that morn together,
And ne'er may fall
One drop of gall
On Wit's celestial feather.
May Love, as twine
His flowers divine,
Of thorny falsehood weed 'em:
May Valour ne'er
His standard rear
Against the cause of Freedom!
Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
Chosen leaf, etc.

poem by Thomas Moore
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Love Nursed By Solitude. By W. I. Thomson, Edinburgh

AY, surely it is here that Love should come,
And find, (if he may find on earth), a home;
Here cast off all the sorrow and the shame
That cling like shadows to his very name.

Young Love, thou art belied: they speak of thee,
And couple with thy mention misery;
Talk of the broken heart, the wasted bloom,
The spirit blighted, and the early tomb;
As if these waited on thy golden lot,--
They blame thee for the faults which thou hast not.
Art thou to blame for that they bring on thee
The soil and weight of their mortality?
How can they hope that ever links will hold
Form'd, as they form them now, of the harsh gold?
Or worse than even this, how can they think
That vanity will bind the failing link?
How can they dream that thy sweet life will bear
Crowds', palaces', and cities' heartless air?
Where the lip smiles while the heart's desolate,
And courtesy lends its deep mask to hate;
Where looks and thoughts alike must feel the chain,
And nought of life is real but its pain;
Where the young spirit's high imaginings
Are scorn'd and cast away as idle things;
Where, think or feel, you are foredoom'd to be
A marvel and a sign for mockery;
Where none must wander from the beaten road,--
All alike champ the bit, and feel the goad.
It is not made for thee, young Love! away
To where the green earth laughs to the clear day,
To the deep valley, where a thousand trees
Keep a green court for fairy revelries,--
To some small island on a lonely lake,
Where only swans the diamond waters break,
Where the pines hang in silence oe'r the tide
And the stream gushes from the mountain side;
These, Love, are haunts for thee; where canst thou brood
With thy sweet wings furl'd but in Solitude.

poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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On Robert Emmet's Grave

VI.
No trump tells thy virtues—the grave where they rest
With thy dust shall remain unpolluted by fame,
Till thy foes, by the world and by fortune caressed,
Shall pass like a mist from the light of thy name.

VII.
When the storm-cloud that lowers o'er the day-beam is gone,
Unchanged, unextinguished its life-spring will shine;
When Erin has ceased with their memory to groan,
She will smile through the tears of revival on thine.

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Loves Requiem

Confusion writhes around our hearts impatiently
It drains the faith that lights the dark and sets us free
From the chains of our war and the pain we once called love
The poison of doubt enslaves our minds and we bleed
We abandon the trust that kept us blind and disappear
Under the crimson wings of hate where the lost are safe
Until they love again
The heart of darkness is hope of finding you there
And that hope will be our loves requiem
We pray to the serpent of delight desperately
The questions are answered and we try not to weep
Until we are sure were suffering for love
In the dungeon of our dreams were so weak
The promise made to be broken still haunts our sleep
We wont open our eyes afraid we would die for love again
The heart of darkness is hope of finding you there
And that hope will be our loves requiem
The salvation we seek will be waiting us there
In the heart of darkness lonely and scared
With a promise of death for our love
And now that were free from the chains of our dark love
Im lost
And now that were free from the chains of our dark love
Im lost
The heart of darkness is hope of finding you there
And that hope will be our loves requiem
Take me into your arms and sing me your beautiful song
Hold me until were one and sing me youre beautiful song
The heart of darkness is hope of finding you there
And that hope will be our loves requiem
Take me into your arms and sing me your beautiful song
Hold me until were one and sing me youre beautiful song...

song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunshine Of My Life

Firstly, I want to say, Christ is the Sunshine of my life,
When I'm down, or in trouble, he gets me out of strife;
When ever I'm upset, He brings Joy to surround me,
Yes! Christ certainly is the light of life, is what I do see.

Second, Missy is the next sunshine, of my day,
The way my pug does things, the way she does play;
She gets into mischief, but to get my attention,
But loves to stir Prince, her mate and companion.

Lastly My dog prince is a joy in my life. It's true,
My little Maltese, is a caring old dog too;
He is a gentleman dog, waits for me at the door,
Till I go through, then follows me, to him it's no chore.

No! I don't want life any other way, no change for me,
Christ uplifts me, and goes with me, every hour, you see;
Missy and Prince, are two caring pet pals, who stay by,
If ever I'm in too much pain, they all help when I need to cry.

poem by Margaret Haig
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Shall the Harp Then Be Silent

Shall the Harp then be silent, when he who first gave
To our country a name, is withdrawn from all eyes?
Shall a Minstrel of Erin stand mute by the grave
Where the first -- where the last of her Patriots lies?

No -- faint though the death-song may fall from his lips,
Though his Harp, like his soul, may with shadows be crost,
Yet, yet shall it sound, 'mid a nation's eclipse,
And proclaim to the world what a star hath been lost; --

What a union of all the affections and powers
By which life is exalted, embellish'd, refined,
Was embraced in that spirit -- whose centre was ours,
While its mighty circumference circled mankind.

Oh, who that loves Erin, or who that can see,
Through the waste of her annals, that epoch sublime --
Like a pyramid raised in the desert -- where he
And his glory stand out to the eyes of all time;

That one lucid interval, snatch'd from the gloom
And the madness of ages, when fill'd with his soul,
A Nation o'erleap'd the dark bounds of her doom,
And for one sacred instant, touch'd Liberty's goal?

Who, that ever hath heard him -- hath drunk at the source
Of that wonderful eloquence, all Erin's own,
In whose high-thoughted daring, the fire, and the force,
And the yet untamed spring of her spirit are shown?

An eloquence rich, wheresoever its wave
Wander'd free and triumphant, with thoughts that shone through
As clear as the brook's "stone of lustre," and gave,
With the flash of the gem, its solidity too.

Who, what ever approach'd him, when free from the crowd,
In a home full of love, he delighted to read
'Mong the trees which a nation had given, and which bow'd,
As if each brought a new civic crown for his head --

Is there one, who hath thus, through his orbit of life
But at distance observed him -- through glory, through blame,
In the calm of retreat, in the grandeur of strife,
Whether shining or clouded, still high and the same? --

Oh no, not a heart that e'er knew him but mourns
Deep, deep, o'er the grave where such glory is shrined --
O'er a monument Fame will preserve 'mong the urns
Of the wisest, the bravest, the best of mankind!

poem by Thomas Moore
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Loves In Need Of Love Today

Good morn or evening friends
Heres your friendly announcer
I have serious news to pass on to every-body
What Im about to say
Could mean the worlds disaster
Could change your joy and laughter to tears and pain
Its that
Loves in need of love today
Dont delay
Send yours in right away
Hates goin round
Breaking many hearts
Stop it please
Before its gone too far
The force of evil plans
To make you its possession
And it will if we let it
Destroy ev-er-y-body
We all must take
Precautionary measures
If love and please you treasure
Then youll hear me when I say
Oh that
Loves in need of love today
Loves in need of love today
Dont delay
Dont delay
Send yours in right away
Right a-way
Hates goin round
Hates goin round
Breaking many hearts
Break-ing hearts
Stop it please
Stop it please
Before its gone too far
Gone too far
People you know that
Loves in need of love today
Loves in need of love today
Dont delay
Dont de-lay
Send yours in right away
Right a-way
You know that hates
Hates
Hates goin round
Goin round
Breaking many hearts
Break-ing hearts
Stop stop it please
Before its gone too far
Gone too far
Its up to you cause
Loves in need of love today
Loves in need of love today
Dont delay
Dont de-lay
Send yours in right away
Right a-way
Yoy know that hates
Hates
Hates goin round
Goin round
Breaking_hates tried to break my heart many times
Break-ing hearts
Dont_youve got to stop it please
Stop it please
Before before before
Gone too far
Loves in need of love today
Loves in need of love today
Dont delay
Dont de-lay
Send yours in right away
Right a-way
You know that hates goin around
Hates goin
Hates going around hates going around
Round break-
And it tried to break up many hearts
Ing hearts stop
Youve got to Ive got to theyve got to
It please
Weve got to theyve got to weve got to
Gone
Stop it before its gone too far
Too far
Loves loves in need of love
Loves in need of love
Did you ever think that love would be in need of love today
To-day dont
Dont delay
De-lay
Send yours in right away
Right a-way
Hates hates
Hates goin round
Bring it down a little love is very peaceful
So bring it down a little
Stop it please
Gone too far
Loves in need
Of love today
Dont delay
Right away awaaaay
Loves in need
Of love today
Dont delay
Right away awaaaay
Hates goin round
Breaking hearts
Well, please stop it
Uw l-o-v-e love oh, l-o-v-e lo~~~~~ve
Loves in need
Of love today
Dont delay
Right away
Just give the world love.

song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lift Every Voice and Sing

Lift ev'ry voice and sing,
Till earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the list'ning skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on till victory is won.

Stony the road we trod,
Bitter the chast'ning rod,
Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;
Yet with a steady beat,
Have not our weary feet
Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?
We have come over a way that with tears has been watered.
We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,
Out from the gloomy past,
Till now we stand at last
Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.

God of our weary years,
God of our silent tears,
Thou who hast brought us thus far on the way;
Thou who hast by Thy might,
Led us into the light,
Keep us forever in the path, we pray.
Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,
Lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee;
Shadowed beneath Thy hand,
May we forever stand,
True to our God,
True to our native land.

poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Twas One of Those Dreams

'TWAS one of those dreams, that by music are brought,
Like a bright summer haze, o'er the poet's warm thought --
When, lost in the future, his soul wanders on,
And all of this life, but its sweetness, is gone.

The wild notes he heard o'er the water were those
He had taught to sing Erin's dark bondage and woes,
And the breath of the bugle now wafted them o'er
From Dinis' green isle, to Glena's wooded shore.

He listen'd -- while, high o'er the eagle's rude nest,
The lingering sounds on their way loved to rest;
And the echoes sung back from their full mountain quire,
As if loath to let song to enchanting expire.

It seem'd as if every sweet note that died here
Was again brought to life in some airier sphere,
Some heaven in those hills, where the soul of the strain
That had ceased upon earth was awaking again!

Oh forgive, if, while listening to music, whose breath
Seem'd to circle his name with a charm against death,
He should feel a proud spirit within him proclaim,
"Even so shalt thou live in the echoes of Fame:

"Even so, though thy memory should now die away,
'Twill be caught up again in some happier day,
And the hearts and the voices of Erin prolong,
Through the answering Future, thy name and thy song."

poem by Thomas Moore
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Where Love Glows

Where love glows warmly from within,
God's Spirit's welcomed there,
Such that each heart can turn from sin
And shine beyond compare...
For love glows like a furnace flame,
It brings both heat and light
And those who love can't stay the same,
For they must do what's right.

It like their hearts are filled with love,
With Christmas joys and more!
God's gifts and grace will prove enough
For those who would stay pure...
Consider rainbows in the sky
That cast dark clouds away!
Or dazzling dolphins leaping high
To celebrate each day!

Where love glows warmly from within,
It melts away the past,
Such that each lives new souls to win
Till Heaven comes at last...
Let God's love kindle broken hearts,
Reborn to live anew...
For truly that's when beauty starts,
With words like, 'I love you! '

poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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