The Lover’s Colloquy
[HERNANI, Act V.]
One little moment to indulge the sight
With the rich beauty of the summer's night.
The harp is hushed, and, see, the torch is dim,--
Night and ourselves together. To the brim
The cup of our felicity is filled.
Each sound is mute, each harsh sensation stilled.
Dost thou not think that, e'en while nature sleeps,
Some power its amorous vigils o'er us keeps?
No cloud in heaven; while all around repose,
Come taste with me the fragrance of the rose,
Which loads the night-air with its musky breath,
While everything is still as nature's death.
E'en as you spoke--and gentle words were those
Spoken by you,--the silver moon uprose;
How that mysterious union of her ray,
With your impassioned accents, made its way
Straight to my heart! I could have wished to die
In that pale moonlight, and while thou wert by.
HERNANI. Thy words are music, and thy strain of love
Is borrowed from the choir of heaven above.
DONNA SOL. Night is too silent, darkness too profound
Oh, for a star to shine, a voice to sound--
To raise some sudden note of music now
Suited to night.
HERN. Capricious girl! your vow
Was poured for silence, and to be released
From the thronged tumult of the marriage feast.
DONNA SOL. Yes; but one bird to carol in the field,--
A nightingale, in mossy shade concealed,--
A distant flute,--for music's stream can roll
To soothe the heart, and harmonize the soul,--
O! 'twould be bliss to listen.
[_Distant sound of a horn, the signal that_ HERNANI
_must go to_ DON RUY, _who, having saved his
life, had him bound in a vow to yield it up._]
poem by Victor Hugo
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The Lover’s Sacrifice
[HERNANI, Act II.]
DONNA SOL. Together let us fly!
HERNANI. Together? No! the hour is past for flight.
Dearest, when first thy beauty smote my sight,
I offered, for the love that bade me live,
Wretch that I was, what misery had to give:
My wood, my stream, my mountain. Bolder grown,
By thy compassion to an outlaw shown,
The outlaw's meal beneath the forest shade,
The outlaw's couch far in the greenwood glade,
I offered. Though to both that couch be free,
I keep the scaffold block reserved for me.
DONNA SOL. And yet you promised?
HERNANI _(falls on his knee.)_ Angel! in this hour,
Pursued by vengeance and oppressed by power--
Even in this hour when death prepares to close
In shame and pain a destiny of woes--
Yes, I, who from the world proscribed and cast,
Have nursed one dark remembrance of the past,
E'en from my birth in sorrow's garment clad,
Have cause to smile and reason to be glad;
For you have loved the outlaw and have shed
Your whispered blessings on his forfeit head.
DONNA SOL. Let me go with you.
HERNANI. No! I will not rend
From its fair stem the flower as I descend.
Go--I have smelt its perfume. Go--resume
All that this grasp has brushed away of bloom.
Wed the old man,--believe that ne'er we met;
I seek my shade--be happy, and forget!
poem by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Set The Night To Music
Set the night to music
Set the night to music
Look at all the stars tonight, look at all the moonlight
Look at us were all alone
Oh and its just like a dream, some romantic fantasy
Darling come and hold, hold me close
We could be making love
And with the slightest touch
We could, set the night to music
We could set the night to music
We could do what we want to do
Itll only take me and you, to
Set the night to music
Find a rhythm all our own, melt into it nice and slow
Love ourselves away from here
Your heart beating next to mine, perfect love in perfect time
Watch the world disappear
This moment is ours to take (this moment is ours)
And with the love we make
We could set the night to music
We could set the night to music
We could do what we want to do
Itll only take me and you, to
Set the night to music
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, yeah
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, yeah
This moment is ours to take (this moment is ours)
And with the love we make
We could set the night to music
We could set the night to music
We could do what we want to do
Itll only take me and you,
To set the night, set the night
Set the night to music
Set the night to music
We could set the night to music
We could set the night to music
We could set the night to music
Set the night, set the night, set the night, set the night...
song performed by by Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Music: An Ode
WAS it light that spake from the darkness,
or music that shone from the word,
When the night was enkindled with sound
of the sun or the first-born bird?
Souls enthralled and entrammelled in bondage
of seasons that fall and rise,
Bound fast round with the fetters of flesh,
and blinded with light that dies,
Lived not surely till music spake,
and the spirit of life was heard.
Music, sister of sunrise, and herald of life to be,
Smiled as dawn on the spirit of man,
and the thrall was free.
Slave of nature and serf of time,
the bondman of life and death,
Dumb with passionless patience that breathed
but forlorn and reluctant breath,
Heard, beheld, and his soul made answer,
and communed aloud with the sea.
Morning spake, and he heard:
and the passionate silent noon
Kept for him not silence:
and soft from the mounting moon
Fell the sound of her splendour,
heard as dawn's in the breathless night,
Not of men but of birds whose note
bade man's soul quicken and leap to light:
And the song of it spake, and the light and the darkness
of earth were as chords in tune.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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To Isa in Heaven
Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew,
She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven! — Young.
Where is she now?
Oh! Isa! tell me where thou art?
If death has laid his hand upon thy brow,
Has he not touched my heart?
Has he not laid it in the grave with thine,
And buried all my joys?—Speak! thou art mine!
If thou were dead,
I would not ask thee to reply;
But thou art living—thy dear soul has fled
To heaven, where it can never die!
Then why not come to me? Return—return
And comfort me, for I have much to mourn!
I sigh all day!
I mourn for thee the livelong night!
And when the next night comes, thou art away,
And so is absent my delight!
Oh! as the lone dove for his absent mate,
So is my soul for thee disconsolate!
I long for death—
For any thing—to be with thee!
I did inhale, alas! thy dying breath,
That it might have some power on me
To make me what thou art!—but, thou art dead!
And I am here!—it strengthened me instead!
Joy there is none—
It went into the grave with thee!
And grief, because my spirit is alone,
Is all that comes to comfort me!
The very air I breathe is turned to sighs,
And all mine soul is melting from mine eyes!
I hear, at even,
The liquid carol of birds;
Their music makes me think of thee in heaven,
It is so much like thy sweet words.
The brooklet whispers, as it runs along,
Our first love-story with its liquid tongue.
Wake, Isa! wake!
And come back in this world again!
Oh! come down to me, for my soul's dear sake,
And cure me of this trying pain!
I would give all that earth to man can be,
If thou wert only in this world with me!
Day after day
I seek thee, but thou art not near!
I sit down on thy grave in the cold clay,
And listen for thy soul!—oh! dear!
And when some withered leaf falls from the tree,
I start as if thy soul had spoke to me!
And so it is,
And so it ever more must ever be
To him, who has been robbed of all the bliss
He ever knew, by loving thee!
For misery, in thine absence, is my wife!
What joy had been, hadst thou remained in life!
It is now even;
The birds have sung themselves to sleep;
And all the stars seem coming out of heaven,
As if to look upon me weep!—
Oh! let me not look up to thee in vain,
But come back to me in this world again!
poem by Thomas Holley Chivers (1842)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Spanish Lady’s Love
[HERNANI, ACT I.]
To mount the hills or scaffold, we go to-morrow:
Hernani, blame me not for this my boldness.
Art thou mine evil genius or mine angel?
I know not, but I am thy slave. Now hear me:
Go where thou wilt, I follow thee. Remain,
And I remain. Why do I thus? I know not.
I feel that I must see thee--see thee still--
See thee for ever. When thy footstep dies,
It is as if my heart no more would beat;
When thou art gone, I am absent from myself;
But when the footstep which I love and long for
Strikes on mine ear again--then I remember
I live, and feel my soul return to me.
poem by Victor Hugo
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The Nightingale
WHEN the moon a golden-pale
Lustre on my casement flings,
An enchanted nightingale
In the haunted silence sings.
Strange the song—its wondrous words
Taken from the primal tongue,
Known to men, and beasts, and birds,
When the care-worn world was young
Listening low, I hear the stars
Through her strains move solemnly,
And on lonesome banks and bars
Hear the sobbing of the sea.
And my memory dimly gropes
Hints to gather from her song
Of forgotten fears and hopes,
Joys and griefs forgotten long.
And I feel once more the strife
Of a passion, fierce and grand,
That, in some long-vanished life,
Held my soul at its command.
Ah, my Love, in robes of white
Standing by a moonlit sea,
Like a lily of the night,
Hast thou quite forgotten me?
Dost thou never dream at whiles
Of that silent, templed vale,
And the dim wood in whose aisles
Sang a secret nightingale?
Whither hast thou gone? What star
Holds thy spirit pure and fine?
In this world below there are
None like thee: and thou wert mine!
For a season all things last,
Love and Joy, and Life and Death;
Thou art portion of my past,
I of thine, whilst Time draws breath.
Fades the moonlight golden-pale,
And the bird has ceased to sing—
Ah, it was no nightingale,
But my heart—remembering.
poem by Victor James Daley
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Healing Part I
Listen, listen
Listen to the voice,
The voice is an illusion
Listen to the voice,
Dont let the words confuse you
cause you need something to concentrate on,
Concentrate on me
You need something to meditate on,
Meditate on me
Listen, listen
Listen to your heart
Tune into the rhythm
Listen to your heart
Beating with precision
Like the waves upon the seaside,
It goes on and on
Like the spinning of the world,
It goes on and on
Listen, listen
Listen for the sound
That is not in the music
Only you can hear it,
Only you can use it
Its the sound of someone breathing,
Its the breath of life
Its the sound that you are weaving
With the thread of life
Listen, listen
Listen to the sound,
Let nothing disturb you
You are in a place
Where nothing can hurt you
If you feel a strange sensation,
It can do no harm
Like the spiral of creation,
It will soon move on
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Night A Dj Saved My Life
Dj clue
Last night a dj saved my life
Last night a dj saved my life
Cause I was sittin there bored to death
And in just one breath he said
You gotta get up
You gotta get on
You gotta get down girl
You know you drive me crazy baby
Youve got me turning to another man
Called you on the phone
No ones home
Baby why ya leave me all alone
And if it wasnt for the music
I dont know what Id do
Last night a dj saved my life
Last night a dj saved my life from a broken heart
Last night a dj saved my life
Last night a dj saved my life with a song
You know I hopped into my car
Didnt get very far no
Because I had you on my mind
Why be so unkind?
Youve got your women all around
All around this town, boy
But I was trapped in love with you
And I didnt know what to do
But when I turned on my radio
I found out all I needed to know
Check it out
Last night a dj saved my life
Last night a dj saved my life from a broken heart
Last night a dj saved my life
Last night a dj saved my life with a song
Last night a dj saved my life
Last night a dj saved my life from a broken heart
Last night a dj saved my life
Last night a dj saved my life with a song
Hey listen up to your local dj
You better hear what hes got to say
Theres not a problem that I cant fix
Cause I can do it in the mix
And if your man gives you trouble
Just you move out on the double
And you dont let it trouble your brain
Cause away goes troubles
Down the drain
I said away goes troubles
Down the drain
Last night a dj saved my life
Theres not a problem that I cant fix
Cause I can do it in the mix
Theres not a problem that I cant fix
Cause I can do it in the mix
Repeat
song performed by by Mariah Carey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When.
Music when sound becomes hollow.
When sun turns to storm.
When earth begins to quake.
Screams echo in Summer breeze.
Laughter floats away on the waves.
Music when silence becomes deafening.
Music when dry eyes start to cry.
Music when dreams turn to nightmares.
Music when calamity turns to chaos.
When clear minds cloud.
When loving heart break.
When children never exist.
When words are never spoken.
Music when sound becomes hollow.
Music when soft voices die.
poem by Jessica Wetzel
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The Nightingale
A Conversation Poem, April, 1798
No cloud, no relique of the sunken day
Distinguishes the West, no long thin slip
Of sullen light, no obscure trembling hues.
Come, we will rest on this old mossy bridge!
You see the glimmer of the stream beneath,
But hear no murmuring: it flows silently.
O'er its soft bed of verdure. All is still.
A balmy night! and though the stars be dim,
Yet let us think upon the vernal showers
That gladden the green earth, and we shall find
A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
And hark! the Nightingale begins its song,
'Most musical, most melancholy' bird!
A melancholy bird? Oh! idle thought!
In Nature there is nothing melancholy.
But some night-wandering man whose heart was pierced
With the remembrance of a grievous wrong,
Or slow distemper, or neglected love,
(And so, poor wretch! filled all things with himself,
And made all gentle sounds tell back the tale
Of his own sorrow) he, and such as he,
First named these notes a melancholy strain.
And many a poet echoes the conceit;
Poet who hath been building up the rhyme
When he had better far have stretched his limbs
Beside a brook in mossy forest-dell,
By sun or moon-light, to the influxes
Of shapes and sounds and shifting elements
Surrendering his whole spirit, of his song
And of his fame forgetful! so his fame
Should share in Nature's immortality,
A venerable thing! and so his song
Should make all Nature lovelier, and itself
Be loved like Nature! But 'twill not be so;
And youths and maidens most poetical,
Who lose the deepening twilights of the spring
In ball-rooms and hot theatres, they still
Full of meek sympathy must heave their sighs
O'er Philomela's pity-pleading strains.
My Friend, and thou, our Sister! we have learnt
A different lore: we may not thus profane
Nature's sweet voices, always full of love
And joyance! 'Tis the merry Nightingale
That crowds and hurries, and precipitates
With fast thick warble his delicious notes,
As he were fearful that an April night
Would be too short for him to utter forth
His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul
Of all its music!
And I know a grove
Of large extent, hard by a castle huge,
Which the great lord inhabits not; and so
This grove is wild with tangling underwood,
And the trim walks are broken up, and grass,
Thin grass and king-cups grow within the paths.
But never elsewhere in one place I knew
So many nightingales; and far and near,
In wood and thicket, over the wide grove,
They answer and provoke each other's song,
With skirmish and capricious passagings,
And murmurs musical and swift jug jug,
And one low piping sound more sweet than all
Stirring the air with such a harmony,
That should you close your eyes, you might almost
Forget it was not day! On moonlight bushes,
Whose dewy leaflets are but half-disclosed,
You may perchance behold them on the twigs,
Their bright, bright eyes, their eyes both bright and full,
Glistening, while many a glow-worm in the shade
Lights up her love-torch.
A most gentle Maid,
Who dwelleth in her hospitable home
Hard by the castle, and at latest eve
(Even like a Lady vowed and dedicate
To something more than Nature in the grove)
Glides through the pathways; she knows all their notes,
That gentle Maid! and oft, a moment's space,
What time the moon was lost behind a cloud,
Hath heard a pause of silence; till the moon
Emerging, a hath awakened earth and sky
With one sensation, and those wakeful birds
Have all burst forth in choral minstrelsy,
As if some sudden gale had swept at once
A hundred airy harps! And she hath watched
Many a nightingale perch giddily
On blossomy twig still swinging from the breeze,
And to that motion tune his wanton song
Like tipsy Joy that reels with tossing head.
Farewell! O Warbler! till tomorrow eve,
And you, my friends! farewell, a short farewell!
We have been loitering long and pleasantly,
And now for our dear homes.That strain again!
Full fain it would delay me! My dear babe,
Who, capable of no articulate sound,
Mars all things with his imitative lisp,
How he would place his hand beside his ear,
His little hand, the small forefinger up,
And bid us listen! And I deem it wise
To make him Nature's play-mate. He knows well
The evening-star; and once, when he awoke
In most distressful mood (some inward pain
Had made up that strange thing, an infant's dream)
I hurried with him to our orchard-plot,
And he beheld the moon, and, hushed at once,
Suspends his sobs, and laughs most silently,
While his fair eyes, that swam with undropped tears,
Did glitter in the yellow moon-beam! Well!
It is a father's tale: But if that Heaven
Should give me life, his childhood shall grow up
Familiar with these songs, that with the night
He may associate joy. Once more, farewell,
Sweet Nightingale! once more, my friends! farewell.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Come hither, child
Come hither, child--who gifted thee
With power to touch that string so well?
How darest thou rouse up thoughts in me,
Thoughts that I would--but cannot quell?
Nay, chide not, lady; long ago
I heard those notes in Ula's hall,
And had I known they'd waken woe
I'd weep their music to recall.
But thus it was: one festal night
When I was hardly six years old
I stole away from crowds and light
And sought a chamber dark and cold.
I had no one to love me there,
I knew no comrade and no friend;
And so I went to sorrow where
Heaven, only heaven saw me bend.
Loud blew the wind; 'twas sad to stay
From all that splendour barred away.
I imaged in the lonely room
A thousand forms of fearful gloom.
And with my wet eyes raised on high
I prayed to God that I might die.
Suddenly in that silence drear
A sound of music reached my ear,
And then a note, I hear it yet,
So full of soul, so deeply sweet,
I thought that Gabriel's self had come
To take me to thy father's home.
Three times it rose, that seraph strain,
Then died, nor breathed again;
But still the words and still the tone
Dwell round my heart when all alone.
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
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Music is...
Music is...
Music is expression...
Music is freedom...
Music is the song of life...
Music is notes...
Music is noise...
Music is beat...
Music is relaxing...
Music is peace...
Music is loud...
Music is calm...
Music is meaningful...
Music is sound...
Music is heart...
Music is soul...
Music is mind...
Music is body...
Music is nature...
Music is language...
Music is the song of my life...
Music is everything...
Music is me...
Music is....
poem by Madeline anderson
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The Lesson
MY cot was down by a cypress grove,
And I sat by my window the whole night long,
And heard well up from the deep dark wood
A mocking-bird's passionate song.
And I thought of myself so sad and lone,
And my life's cold winter that knew no spring;
Of my mind so weary and sick and wild,
Of my heart too sad to sing.
But e'en as I listened the mock-bird's song,
A thought stole into my saddened heart,
And I said, 'I can cheer some other soul
By a carol's simple art.'
For oft from the darkness of hearts and lives
Come songs that brim with joy and light,
As out of the gloom of the cypress grove
The mocking-bird sings at night.
So I sang a lay for a brother's ear
In a strain to soothe his bleeding heart,
And he smiled at the sound of my voice and lyre,
Though mine was a feeble art.
But at his smile I smiled in turn,
And into my soul there came a ray:
In trying to soothe another's woes
Mine own had passed away.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Echo Of The Night
When silence is persistent
And the shadows lie in wait
When the sun steps aside for the moon
You can hear the music of the night
At the break of dawn its hides
It fears the burning golden light
It favors the moon as its ally
One who isn't blind with pride
As the shadows of the day finally dissipate
And the sun recedes in the mountains
When the moon cast its shadow over the land
Once again comes the music of the night
It seems strange to call it music
When no sound is actually there
But like a choir in a cavern
Its voice echoes throughout the land
When you finally abandon your thoughts
Kneel silently before the land
Its echo can finally reach you
And you can hear the music of the night
poem by Logan Fulk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh, How I Love Late Summer Eve
Oh, how I love late summer eve
When rays of light rush pouring from the gore golden West
And the balmy night wind comes tranquil into rest
The silver cloud in the moon sheen has been long on its way to leave
All mal thoughts and fears take a sweet pause and calm retrieve
No more little gnawing cares, but find with easy quest
The night music, the fragrant bush, the silhouette of flowers with Nature's beauty dressed
And there comes delight my innocent craving a miracle soul to deceive
That is the time when my heart is warm in ecstatic lore
Musing about the beauty of the haze under summer night
Oh, adventurous creatures of the night rise to take your dinted shields
And I see the beauty of the glory the wild summer night yields
No Other Voice
There is no other voice I miss as much
When I'm far from my home, your laughter, your touch
There's no music on earth I'd rather hear
No other voice but yours
Your birdsong in the morning
You're the wind in the trees
The lapping of night waves on tropical seas
You're the sound of my heart beat, my breathing, my life
The lullabye rocking our babies to sleep at night
And through the dead of the voices I scream in my head
There is only one voice that sings love songs instead
There is no other sound that speaks straight to my heart
There is no other voice
not even a choice
There is no other voice but yours
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Day
What sudden blaze of song
Spreads o'er th' expanse of Heaven?
In waves of light it thrills along,
Th' angelic signal given -
"Glory to God!" from yonder central fire
Flows out the echoing lay beyond the starry choir;
Like circles widening round
Upon a clear blue river,
Orb after orb, the wondrous sound
Is echoed on for ever:
"Glory to God on high, on earth be peace,
And love towards men of love--salvation and release."
Yet stay, before thou dare
To join that festal throng;
Listen and mark what gentle air
First stirred the tide of song;
'Tis not, "the Saviour born in David's home,
To Whom for power and health obedient worlds should come:" -
'Tis not, "the Christ the Lord:"
With fixed adoring look
The choir of Angels caught the word,
Nor yet their silence broke:
But when they heard the sign where Christ should be,
In sudden light they shone and heavenly harmony.
Wrapped in His swaddling bands,
And in His manger laid,
The Hope and Glory of all lands
Is come to the world's aid:
No peaceful home upon his cradle smiled,
Guests rudely went and came, where slept the royal Child.
But where Thou dwellest, Lord,
No other thought should be,
Once duly welcomed and adored,
How should I part with Thee?
Bethlehem must lose Thee soon, but Thou wilt grace
The single heart to be Thy sure abiding-place.
Thee, on the bosom laid
Of a pure virgin mind,
In quiet ever, and in shade,
Shepherd and sage may find;
They, who have bowed untaught to Nature's sway,
And they, who follow Truth along her star-paved way.
The pastoral spirits first
Approach Thee, Babe divine,
For they in lowly thoughts are nursed,
Meet for Thy lowly shrine:
Sooner than they should miss where Thou dost dwell,
Angela from Heaven will stoop to guide them to Thy cell.
Still, as the day comes round
For Thee to be revealed,
By wakeful shepherds Thou art found,
Abiding in the field.
All through the wintry heaven and chill night air,
In music and in light Thou dawnest on their prayer.
O faint not ye for fear -
What though your wandering sheep,
Reckless of what they see and hear,
Lie lost in wilful sleep?
High Heaven in mercy to your sad annoy
Still greets you with glad tidings of immortal joy.
Think on th' eternal home,
The Saviour left for you;
Think on the Lord most holy, come
To dwell with hearts untrue:
So shall ye tread untired His pastoral ways,
And in the darkness sing your carol of high praise.
poem by John Keble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Last Night A DJ Saved My
DJ Clue
Last night a DJ saved my life
Last night a DJ saved my life
Cause I was sittin' there bored to death
And in just one breath he said
You gotta get up
You gotta get on
You gotta get down girl
You know you drive me crazy baby
You've got me turning to another man
Called you on the phone
No one's home
Baby why ya leave me all alone
And if it wasn't for the music
I don't know what I'd do
Last night a DJ saved my life
Last night a DJ saved my life from a broken heart
Last night a DJ saved my life
Last night a DJ saved my life with a song
You know I hopped into my car
Didn't get very far no
Because I had you on my mind
Why be so unkind?
You've got your women all around
All around this town
song performed by by Mariah Carey from Glitter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come Hither, Child
Come hither, child; who gifted thee
With power to touch that string so well?
How darest thou rouse up thoughts in me,
Thoughts that I would--but cannot quell?
Nay, chide not, lady; long ago
I heard those notes in Elbe hall,
And had I known they'd waken woe
I'd weep their music to recall.
But thus it was: one festal night
When I was hardly six years old
I stole away from crowds and light
And sought a chamber dark and cold.
I had no one to love me there,
I knew no comrade and no friend;
And so I went to sorrow where
Heaven, only heaven saw me bend.
Loud blew the wind. 'Twas sad to stay
From all that splendour barred away.
I imaged in the lonely room
A thousand forms of fearful gloom.
And with my wet eyes raised on high
I prayed to God that I might die.
Suddenly in that silence drear
A sound of music reached my ear:
And then a note, I hear it yet,
So full of soul, so deeply sweet,
I thought that Gabriel's self had come
To take me to thy father's home.
Three times it rose, that seraph strain,
Then died, nor breathed again;
But still the words and still the tone
Dwell round my heart when all alone.
poem by Emily Brontë from The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë (1908)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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With A Song In My Heart
Verse 1
Though I know that we meet evry night
And we couldnt heve change since the last time,
To my joy and delight,
Its a new kind of love at first sight.
Though its you and its I all the time
Evry meetings marvelous pastime.
Youre increasingly sweet,
So whenever we happened to met
I greet you ...
Refrain
With a song in my heart
I behold your adorable face.
Just a song at the start
But it soon is a hymn to your grace.
When the music swells
Im touching you hand
It tells that yourre standing near, and ..
At the sound of your voice
Heaven opens his portals to me.
Can I help but rejoice
That a song such as ours came to be?
But I always knew
I would live life through
With a song in my heart for you.
Verse 2
Oh, the moons not a moon for a night
And these stars will not twinkle and fade out,
And the words in my ears
Will resound for the rest of my years.
In the morning I find with delight
Not a note of our music is played out.
It will be just as sweet,
And an air that Ill live to repeat:
I greet you ...
Refrain
With a song in my heart
I behold your adorable face.
Just a song at the start
But it soon is a hymn to your grace.
When the music swells
Im touching you hand
It tells that youre standing near, and ..
At the sound of your voice
Heaven opens his portals to me.
Can I help but rejoice
That a song such as ours came to be?
But I always knew
I would live life through
With a song in my heart for you.
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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