My Happiest Dream
I love to look, as evening fails,
On vestals streaming in their veils,
Within the fane past altar rails,
Green palms in hand.
My darkest moods will always clear
When I can fancy children near,
With rosy lips a-laughing--dear,
Light-dancing band!
Enchanting vision, too, displayed,
That of a sweet and radiant maid,
Who knows not why she is afraid,--
Love's yet unseen!
Another--rarest 'mong the rare--
To see the gaze of chosen fair
Return prolonged and wistful stare
Of eager een.
But--dream o'er all to stir my soul,
And shine the brightest on the roll,
Is when a land of tyrant's toll
By sword is rid.
I say not dagger--with the sword
When Right enchampions the horde,
All in broad day--so that the bard
May sing the victor with the starred
Bayard and Cid!
poem by Victor Hugo
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Related quotes
Beyond
MY heart it lies beyond, dear,
In the land of the setting day,
Where the whispers are soft and fond, dear,
Of the voices that pass away;
And oft, when the night is falling,
5
And a calm is on the sea,
I fancy I hear them calling
rom that far-off land for me.
It is only idle dreaming,
But the dream is full of rest,
10
And up where that glory is streaming,
From the gates of the golden west,
I wander away in spirit,
With a mingled joy and pain,
Till I almost seem to inherit
15
The sweet dead past again.
I see the old dear faces,
I greet them hand to hand;
But sadly too, for the places
Seem strange in that curious land;
20
Till a new light breaks, and all other
Grows dim to my streaming eyes;
For a son has found his mother
In the depths of the throbbing skies.
Yes, my heart it lies beyond, dear,
25
Where that sun is burning low,
And were you not so fond, dear,
I might perhaps—but no!
Are you weary already with walking?
And tears! What tears, dear, too!
30
How selfish of me to be talking,
My darling, in this way to you!
poem by Frederick George Scott
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Dedication To His Love
SWEETEST, in desperate hours
Of clouds and lightning and rain,
You came like a vision of flowers
And summer and song once again:
You came, and I could not receive you,
Seared in my flesh, in my sight.
I heedlessly turned back to leave you;
We passed on into the night.
(Heart, soul and all, sweet, never to sever, Love me for ever!)
Dearest, in hours of twilight,
Terrible, silent and lone,
When the light, long sought for as my light
And found, for ever seemed gone —
When the hope of the love-dream of boyhood
Passed sad with unknowing rebuff,
With your passionate patience and joyhood
You came, O my Priestess of Love!
(Heart, soul and all, dear, never to sever, Love me for ever!)
With your lips to mine deathly-reposing,
You kissed back the blood and the sighs:
You lit up my tired eyes unclosing
With the light of your beautiful eyes.
You held me close-pressed to your bosom,
Your heart to my heart, beating strong,
In mine eyes put your life like a blossom,
Put my love in your lips like a song!
(Heart, soul and all, sweet, never to sever,
Love me for ever!)
Dearest, of my heart-blood's Evangel
I hail you Queen, and of me:
Sweetest, I revere you Archangel
Of the better time that shall be.
So to these Songs, for my love's sake,
As Priestess of Love must you stand,
And, for the great Truth above's sake,
God's seraph with his sword in your hand!
(Heart, soul and all, dear, never to sever,
Love me for ever!)
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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Love's Sacrifice
LOVE'S Herald flew o'er all the fields of Greece,
Crying: '
Love's altar waits for sacrifice!'
And all folk answered, like a wave of peace,
With treasured offerings and gifts of price.
Toward high Olympus every white road filled
With pilgrims streaming to the blest abode;
Each bore rich tribute, some for joys fulfilled,
And some for blisses lingering on the road.
The pious peasant drives his laden car;
The fisher youth bears treasure from the sea;
A wife brings honey for the sweets that are;
A maid brings roses for the sweets to be.
Here strides the soldier with his wreathed sword,
No more to glitter in his country's wars;
There walks the poet with his mystic word,
And smiles at Eros' mild recruit from Mars.
But midst these bearers of propitious gifts,
Behold where two, a youth and maiden, stand:
She bears no boon; his arm no burden lifts,
Save her dear fingers pressed within his hand.
Their touch ignites the soft delicious fire,
Whose rays the very altar-flames eclipse;
Their eyes are on each other—sweet desire
And yearning passion tremble on their lips.
So fair—so strong! Ah, Love! what errant wiles
Have brought these two so poor and so unblest?
But see! Instead of anger, Cupid smiles;
And lo! he crowns their sacrifice as best!
Their hands are empty, but their hearts are
Their gifts so rare for all the host suffice:
Before the altar is their life-wine spilled—
The love they long for is their sacrifice.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Consolation
She folded up the worn and mended frock,
And smoothed it tenderly upon her knee,
Then through the soft web of a wee red sock
She wove the bright wool, musing thoughtfully:
'Can this be all? The outside world so fair,
I hunger for its green and pleasant ways;
A cripple prisoned in her restless chair
Looks from her window with a wistful gaze.
'The fruits I cannot reach are red and sweet,
The paths forbidden are both green and wide;
O God! there is no boon to helpless feet
So altogether sweet as paths denied.
Home is most fair; bright all my household fires,
And children are a gift without alloy;
But who would bound the field of their desires
By the prim hedges of mere fireside joy?
'I can but weave a faint thread to and fro,
Making a frail wolf in my baby's sock;
Into the world's sweet tumult I would go,
At its strong gates my trembling hand would knock.'
Just then the children came, the father too;
Their eager faces lit the twilight gloom;
'Dear heart,' he whispered, as he nearer drew,
'How sweet it is within this little room!
'God puts my strongest comfort here to draw
When thirst is great and common wells are dry.
Your pure desire is my unerring law,
Tell me, dear one, who is so safe as I?
Home is the pasture where my soul may feed,
This room a paradise has grown to be;
And only where these patient feet shall lead
Can it be home to these dear ones and me.'
He touched with reverend hand the helpless feet,
The children crowded close and kissed her hair.
'Our mother is so good, and kind, and sweet,
There's not another like her anywhere!'
The baby in her low bed opened wide
The soft blue flowers of her timid eyes,
And viewed the group about the cradle-side
With smiles of glad and innocent surprise.
The mother drew the baby to her knee,
And, smiling, said: 'The stars shine soft tonight;
My world is fair; its edges sweet to me,
And whatsoever is, dear Lord, is right.'
poem by Anonymous Americas
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The German Student’s Love-Song
I.
BY the rush of the Rhine's broad stream,
Down whose rapid tide
We sailed as in some sweet dream
Sitting side by side;
By the depth of its clear blue wave
And the vine-clad hills,
Which gazed on its heart and gave
Their tribute rills;
By the mountains, in purple shade,
And those valleys green
Where our bower of rest was made,
By the world unseen;
By the notes of the wild free bird,
Singing over-head
When nought else in the sunshine stirr'd
Round our flowery bed;
By these, and by Love's power divine,
I have no thought but what is thine!
II.
By the glance of thy radiant eyes,
Where a glory shone
That was half of the summer skies
And half their own;
By the light and yet fervent hold
Of thy gentle hand,--
(As the woodbines the flowers enfold
With their tender band
By thy voice when it breathes in song,
And the echo given
By lips that to Earth belong,
Float up to Heaven;
By the gleams on thy silken hair
At the sunset hour,
And the breadth of they forehead fair
With its thoughtful power;
By these, and by Love's soul divine,
I have no hope but what is thine!
III.
By the beauty and stilness round
When the lake's lone shore
Scarce echoed the pleasant sound
Of the distant oar;
By the moonlight which softly fell
On all objects near,
And thy whisper seemed like a spell
In thy Lover's ear;
By the dreams of the restless past,
And the hope that came
Like sunshine in shadow cast
With thy gentle name;
By the beat of thy good true heart
Where pure thoughts have birth;
By thy tears, when Fate bade us part,
And thy smiles of mirth;
By these, and by Love's power divine,
I have no hope but what is thine!
IV.
By the gloom of those holy fanes
Where the light stream'd through
Dim orange and purple panes
On the aisles below;
By the ruin'd and roofless wall
Of that castle high,
With its turrets so grey and tall
In the clear blue sky;
By beauty, because its light
Should thy portion be,
And whatever is fair and bright
Seems a part of thee;
And by darkness and blank decay,
Because they tell
What the world would be, THOU away,
Whom I love so well;
By these, and by Love's power divine,
My heart, my soul, my life, are thine!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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The Farewell
BENT o'er his sabre, torrents starting
From his dim eyes, the bold hussar
Thus greets his cherish'd maid, while parting
For distant fields of war:
'Weep not, my fair one! O forbear thee!
No anguish can those tears remove;
For, by my troth and beard, I swear thee,
Time shall not change my love.
'That love shall bloom— a deathless blossom,
My shield in fight— with sword in hand,
And thou, my Lila, in my bosom,
What shall that sword withstand?
'Weep not, my fair one! O forbear thee!
Those tears can bid no grief depart;
And were I faithless, Maid! I swear thee,
Anguish would tear my heart!
'Then my good steed would sure betray me,
And falter in the battle-fray,
In peril's hours refuse t' obey me—
My stirrup would give way.
'The sword, my valour's proudest token,
When grasp'd, like rotten wood would break;
And I should seek thee, spirit-broken,
Death's paleness on my cheek.'
But the false horseman's steed obey'd him,
Gentle and eager still;— his sword,
Bright and unbroken, ne'er betray'd him,
Though he broke oath and word.
The tale of love— the tears which shower'd
From Lila's eye— were all forgot;
The rose-wreath faded— pale— deflower'd:—
Such buds re-blossom not!
That maiden's breast of peace he rifles;
Then hies him to another's breast;
Man's oaths to woman are but— trifles;
And love itself— a jest.
He serves— secures— and then he slights them;
His vows are change— and treachery;
For laughing Cupid's arrow writes them
Upon the shifting sea.
poem by Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov
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Mother India
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
poem by Aziz Ahmad
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The Flaming Sword of Light
My will, not willing to comply
A upcoming storm up to a rise
Silence stands still tonight
The rain will try
Filling the lake full of lies
Yet the water can't quench the flames
For my weapon seeks only the truth
The sword of light
Reaper of all lies
Shall my soul be safe tonight
The sword of light shall keep me awake
Is will take the lies revealing the truth
The flames of it's holy light shall burn away the hate
My sword takes a hypocrite and sends it to Hade's crew
Upon their burning eyes
All I see is regret
The sword reveals all
Concealing my soul, their demons shall fall
The flaming sword of light, protector of all
My defence is my weapon
The flaming sword of light
It will defend me tonight
Keep the parisites of Hade's away
For sleep I shall stay
The internal flame of the sword
Shall burn them away
The light will forever shine
Blinding the demons of the night
The sword of light is mine
Protecting my soul from curruption
The innocence of a child's mind
Will stay protected
From the lies and dispise.
The heaven's light, and the flame from hell
In this sword will stay alive
The flaming sword of life.
Shall it protect me tonight
(12-18-09)
poem by Elisha De La Rosa
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Mother India
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
poem by Aziz Ahmad 'Aziz Moradabadi'
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She Sung of Love
She sung of Love, while o'er her lyre
The rosy rays of evening fell,
As if to feed with their soft fire
The soul within that trembling shell.
The same rich light hung o'er her cheek,
And play'd around those lips that sung
And spoke, as flowers would sing and speak,
If Love could lend their leaves a tongue.
But soon the West no longer burn'd,
Each rosy ray from heaven withdrew;
And, when to gaze again I turn'd,
The minstrel's form seem'd fading too.
As if her light and heaven's were one,
The glory all had left that frame;
And from her glimmering lips the tone,
As from a parting spirit, came.
Who ever loved, but had the thought
That he and all he loved must part?
Fill'd with this fear, I flew and caught
The fading image to my heart --
And cried, "Oh Love! is this thy doom?
Oh light of youth's resplendent day!
Must ye then lose your golden bloom,
And thus, like sunshine die away?"
poem by Thomas Moore
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For love of you my lute was strung
FOR love of you my lute was strung,
When singing days were fair and young,
When life and hope and song were new,
And all were sweet for love of you.
For love of you from June to June
My heart beat to a triumph tune,
And music rose by sea and land,
In answer to a victor's hand.
For love of you from sun to sun,
I strove to sing when songs were done,
And on each failing string my tears
Burnt silence, through the empty years.
But broken now 'neath evening skies,
My lute for ever tuneless lies,
And I but mourn the songs I knew,
Which were so sweet for love of you.
poem by Dollie Radford
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Fist Of Fire (alternate Version)
(Anderson Howe Wakeman Bruford)
Carry forth as a guardian to Kingdom Come
With your daggers of the spirit
Let the dagger run
With the Fist of Fire
Be the master now
As the darkness of ages past
Riches silver and gold
In the liquid see
Cast a net can you catch
So you can't see me
As in death you can climb
Higher thru the sky
Show your wings
Surely you can fly
Fly away past the guardian to Kingdom Come
See the miracle of life
Disappear it's gone
Go carry your silver ships of light
Go carry your silver ships of light
Go carry your silver ships of life
Go carry your silver ships of life
Go carry your silver ships of life
Keep the fire in your hand
It won't let you drown
As you fly with your wings
Won't come falling down
See the flower of youth
Disappear on high
As you gather your true wings
About to fly
To be ready
To be strong
Make it run
This righteous
This wrong
This right
This love
This is how nature controls
The way of all things
this is how the angels sing
Not afraid
No, not afraid
Not afraid of this or that
Not afraid
Carry forth as a guardian to Kingdom Come
With the ghost
And the spirit
Let the fire run
Thru the darkest age
We can surely fly
Thru the darkest age
With the Fist Of Fire
Thru the darkest age
With the Fist of Fire
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fist Of Fire (alternate Version)
(Anderson Howe Wakeman Bruford)
Carry forth as a guardian to Kingdom Come
With your daggers of the spirit
Let the dagger run
With the Fist of Fire
Be the master now
As the darkness of ages past
Riches silver and gold
In the liquid see
Cast a net can you catch
So you can't see me
As in death you can climb
Higher thru the sky
Show your wings
Surely you can fly
Fly away past the guardian to Kingdom Come
See the miracle of life
Disappear it's gone
Go carry your silver ships of light
Go carry your silver ships of light
Go carry your silver ships of life
Go carry your silver ships of life
Go carry your silver ships of life
Keep the fire in your hand
It won't let you drown
As you fly with your wings
Won't come falling down
See the flower of youth
Disappear on high
As you gather your true wings
About to fly
To be ready
To be strong
Make it run
This righteous
This wrong
This right
This love
This is how nature controls
The way of all things
this is how the angels sing
Not afraid
No, not afraid
Not afraid of this or that
Not afraid
Carry forth as a guardian to Kingdom Come
With the ghost
And the spirit
Let the fire run
Thru the darkest age
We can surely fly
Thru the darkest age
With the Fist Of Fire
Thru the darkest age
With the Fist of Fire
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Predestined
Dear, we might have known you were
To die young--and were we blind
To the light on face and hair?
Dear, so simple and so kind.
You were clean as your own sword
And as straight too and steel true.
In the Army of the Lord
What promotion waits for you!
I can see you where you stand,
Knightly soul, so clean, so brave.
With a new sword in your hand
Where the lilied banners wave.
Flower of simple chivalry,
Marked for honour and for grace;
It was very plain to see
The clear shining of your face.
You are gone now: it's turned cold:
Very good you were and dear.
Wear the looks you wore of old
When we meet,--some other year.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Dialogue In Verse
_Jack._ Seest thou not yon farmer's son?
He hath stoln my love from me, alas!
What shall I do? I am undone;
My heart will ne'er be as it was.
O, but he gives her gay gold rings,
And tufted gloves [for] holiday,
And many other goodly things,
That hath stoln my love away.
_Friend._ Let him give her gay gold rings
Or tufted gloves, were they ne'er so [gay];
[F]or were her lovers lords or kings,
They should not carry the wench away.
_Jack._ But 'a dances wonders well,
And with his dances stole her love from me:
Yet she wont to say, I bore the bell
For dancing and for courtesy.
_Dick._ Fie, lusty younker, what do you here,
Not dancing on the green to-day?
For Pierce, the farmer's son, I fear,
Is like to carry your wench away.
_Jack._ Good Dick, bid them all come hither,
And tell Pierce from me beside,
That, if he thinks to have the wench,
Here he stands shall lie with the bride.
_Dick._ Fie, Nan, why use thy old lover so,
For any other new-come guest?
Thou long time his love did know;
Why shouldst thou not use him best?
_Nan._ Bonny Dick, I will not forsake
My bonny Rowland for any gold:
If he can dance as well as Pierce,
He shall have my heart in hold.
_Pierce._ Why, then, my hearts, let's to this gear;
And by dancing I may won
My Nan, whose love I hold so dear
As any realm under the sun.
_Gentleman._ Then, gentles, ere I speed from hence,
I will be so bold to dance
A turn or two without offence;
For, as I was walking along by chance,
I was told you did agree.
_Friend._ 'Tis true, good sir; and this is she
Hopes your worship comes not to crave her;
For she hath lovers two or three,
And he that dances best must have her.
_Gentleman._ How say you, sweet, will you dance with me?
And you [shall] have both land and [hill];
My love shall want nor gold nor fee.
_Nan._ I thank you, sir, for your good will;
But one of these my love must be:
I'm but a homely country maid,
And far unfit for your degree;
[To dance with you I am afraid.]
_Friend._ Take her, good sir, by the hand,
As she is fairest: were she fairer,
By this dance, you shall understand,
He that can win her is like to wear her.
_Fool._ And saw you not [my] Nan to-day,
My mother's maid have you not seen?
My pretty Nan is gone away
To seek her love upon the green.
[I cannot see her 'mong so many:]
She shall have me, if she have any.
_Nan._ Welcome, sweetheart, and welcome here,
Welcome, my [true] love, now to me.
This is my love [and my darling dear],
And that my husband [soon] must be.
And, boy, when thou com'st home, thou'lt see
Thou art as welcome home as he.
_Gentleman._ Why, how now, sweet Nan! I hope you jest.
_Nan._ No, by my troth, I love the fool the best:
And, if you be jealous, God give you good-night!
I fear you're a gelding, you caper so light.
_Gentleman._ I thought she had jested and meant but a fable,
But now do I see she hath play['d] with his bable.
I wish all my friends by me to take heed,
That a fool come not near you when you mean to speed.
poem by Christopher Marlowe
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The Scars Of Lovers....
a sharp sword
sharpens itself against
another sword
metal to metal
to the sound of the gritting teeth
one wants to imagine
an ecstasy of
a wound
blood dropping from
a slit on the
hand
there is none here
for this is but an affair
of a sword to another sword
thinking that
there is no war but love
in the air
sweet sounds of birds
sex moans and
calls for a mating
of the season
there is this hate that hides
inside the chest
where there is no option but
to sleep with
the one that never tickles you
not a bit
where love is feigned and
subdued
by need by survival by
pretenses
that man understands it
one can see the scars
not the stars......
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fist Of Fire
(anderson / howe / wakeman / bruford)
Carry forth as a guardian to kingdom come
With your daggers of the spirit
Let the dagger run
With the fist of fire
Be the master now
As the darkness of ages past
Riches silver and gold
In the liquid see
Cast a net can you catch
So you cant see me
As in death you can climb
Higher thru the sky
Show your wings
Surely you can fly
Fly away past the guardian to kingdom come
See the miracle of life
Disappear its gone
Go carry your silver ships of light
Go carry your silver ships of light
Go carry your silver ships of life
Go carry your silver ships of life
Go carry your silver ships of life
Keep the fire in your hand
It wont let you drown
As you fly with your wings
Wont come falling down
See the flower of youth
Disappear on high
As you gather your true wings
About to fly
To be ready
To be strong
Make it run
This righteous
This wrong
This right
This love
This is how nature controls
The way of all things
This is how the angels sing
Not afraid
No, not afraid
Not afraid of this or that
Not afraid
Carry forth as a guardian to kingdom come
With the ghost
And the spirit
Let the fire run
Thru the darkest age
We can surely fly
Thru the darkest age
With the fist of fire
Thru the darkest age
With the fist of fire
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fist Of Fire
(anderson / howe / wakeman / bruford)
Carry forth as a guardian to kingdom come
With your daggers of the spirit
Let the dagger run
With the fist of fire
Be the master now
As the darkness of ages past
Riches silver and gold
In the liquid see
Cast a net can you catch
So you cant see me
As in death you can climb
Higher thru the sky
Show your wings
Surely you can fly
Fly away past the guardian to kingdom come
See the miracle of life
Disappear its gone
Go carry your silver ships of light
Go carry your silver ships of light
Go carry your silver ships of life
Go carry your silver ships of life
Go carry your silver ships of life
Keep the fire in your hand
It wont let you drown
As you fly with your wings
Wont come falling down
See the flower of youth
Disappear on high
As you gather your true wings
About to fly
To be ready
To be strong
Make it run
This righteous
This wrong
This right
This love
This is how nature controls
The way of all things
This is how the angels sing
Not afraid
No, not afraid
Not afraid of this or that
Not afraid
Carry forth as a guardian to kingdom come
With the ghost
And the spirit
Let the fire run
Thru the darkest age
We can surely fly
Thru the darkest age
With the fist of fire
Thru the darkest age
With the fist of fire
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rock 'N' Roll Band
If we were a rock 'n' roll band,
We'd travel all over the land.
We'd play and we'd sing and wear spangly things.
If we were a rock 'n' roll band.
If we were a rock 'n' roll band,
And we were up there on the stand,
The people would here us and love us and cheer us.
Hurray for that rock 'n' roll band.
If we were a rock 'n' roll band,
Then we'd have a million fans.
We'd giggle and laugh and sign autographs,
If we were a rock 'n' roll band.
If we were a rock 'n' roll band.
The people would all kiss our hands.
We'd be millionaires and have extra long hair,
If we were a rock 'n' roll band.
But we ain't no rock 'n' roll band,
We're just seven kids in the sand.
With homemade guitars and pails and jars
And drums of potato chip cans.
Just seven kids in the sand.
Talk'n and waven' our hands.
And dreamin' and thinkin' oh wouldn't it be grand,
If we were a rock 'n' roll band.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love's Young Dream
Oh! the days are gone, when Beauty bright
My heart's chain wove;
When my dream of life, from morn till night,
Was love, still love.
New hope may bloom,
And days may come,
Of milder calmer beam,
But there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream:
No, there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream.
Though the bard to purer fame may soar,
When wild youth's past;
Though he win the wise, who frown'd before,
To smile at last;
He'll never meet
A joy so sweet,
In all his noon of fame,
As when first he sung to woman's ear
His soul-felt flame,
And, at every close, she blush'd to hear
The one loved name.
No, -- that hallow'd form is ne'er forgot
Which first love traced;
Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot
On memory's waste.
'Twas odour fled
As soon as shed;
'Twas morning's winged dream;
'Twas a light, tht ne'er can shine again
On life's dull stream:
Oh! 'twas light that n'er can shine again
On life's dull stream.
poem by Thomas Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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