Places and Men
In Sussex here, by shingle and by sand,
Flat fields and farmsteads in their wind-blown trees,
The shallow tide-wave courses to the land,
And all along the down a fringe one sees
Of ducal woods. That 'dim discovered spire'
Is Chichester, where Collins felt a fire
Touch his sad lips; thatched Felpham roofs are these,
Where happy Blake found heaven more close at hand.
Goodwood and Arundel possess their lords,
Successive in the towers and groves, which stay;
These two poor men, by some right of their own,
Possessed the earth and sea, the sun and moon,
The inner sweet of life; and put in words
A personal force that doth not pass away.
poem by William Allingham
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Related quotes
Summer's Wind
Be weary, Lord of the summer wind,
Lord of the heat that you blow in,
Away with flowers, land and trees,
To stay them not, least all the trees.
Listen to this, all that I say,
Our land does die, and drift away.
Our living born upon the wind,
All of ours, and those of friends.
So we called upon the leave-filled wind,
The autumn one, of which were friends.
This wind of cool and gentle hand,
Not like the wind that stole our land.
And the heat did melt into the leaves,
And turned them colors from the trees.
Then the leave-filled wind bore them away,
And upon the land, they came to stay.
And stayed them there, till land-hard cold,
And then the land, the leaves they stole.
And after the harsh cold wind had blown,
And living soil again was sown,
Summer's wind came again to prey,
Upon our lands, most every day.
But our living land, the leaves did save,
And the summer's wind did blow away,
Never to re-live, the seasons day.
The cool soft wind now blows so free,
Upon the land, and through the trees.
All through the people, and over me.
poem by Sandra Osborne
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Because Of Love
(words & music by batchelor - roberts)
Because of love, Im a hundred feet tall
I can bounce this world like a little old ball
The heaven and earth are now all mine
Ive jumped to the moon from cloud number nine
Because, because, because, because of love
Because of love, Im a mighty big man
I hold the sun in the palm of my hand
Just one leap I can cross the seas
Jump over mountains and fly over trees
Because, because, because, because of love
Well I found love, I found love
Thats all that I can say
Oh Ill never, never, Ill never, never
Never let it get away
Because of love, Im the happiest guy
And life is sweet as cherry cream pie
Well heaven and earth are now all mine
Ive jumped to the moon from cloud number nine
Because, because, because, because of love
Because, because, because, because of love
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When you came...
wept out from the ocean,
as the wave of loneliness frolic
on the desire of emptiness,
anchored in the stock file
of solid surrender where I go
gone somewhere
the vast sand I seat
waiting in a distance sight of
a fairy land, only a whisper
of the wind carve my destiny the
wishing echo of where
I belong can stay with me
until the sweet dunes blown
facing that I never want to meet,
a chilled laughter
calling my dream to wake
as if they want me to take before
I almost go
you might as well have found dearest
one, but thanks its
over the night have already gone...
poem by Antonio Liao
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The Sussex sailor
O, once, by Cuckmere Haven,
I heard a sailor sing
Of shores beyond the sunset,
And lands of lasting spring,
Of blue lagoons and palm trees
And isles where all was young;
But this was ever the burden
of ev'ry note he sung:
"O, have you seen my true love
A-walking in that land?
Or have you seen her footprints
Upon that shining sand?
Beneath the happy palmtrees,
By Eden whispers fanned...
O, have you seen my true love
A-walking in that land?"
And, once in San Diego,
I heard him sing again,
Of Amberley, Rye, and Bramber,
And Brede and Fairlight Glen:
The nestling hills of Sussex,
The russet-roofed elfin towns,
And the skylark up in a high wind
Carolling over the downs.
"From Warbleton to Wild Brook,
When May is white as foam,
O, have you seen my dearling
on any hills of home?
Or have you seen her shining,
Or only touch'd her hand.
O, have you seen my true love
A-walking in that land?"
And, once again, by Cowfold,
I heard him singing low,
'Tis not the leagues of ocean
That hide the hills I know.
The May that shines before me
Has made a ghost of May.
The valleys that I would walk in
Are twenty years away.
"Ah, have you seen my true love
A-walking in that land...
On hills that I remember,
In valleys I understand,
So far beyond the sunset,
So very close at hand,
O have you seen my true love
In that immortal land?"
poem by Alfred Noyes
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All nature has a feeling
All nature has a feeling: woods, fields, brooks
Are life eternal: and in silence they
Speak happiness beyond the reach of books;
There's nothing mortal in them; their decay
Is the green life of change; to pass away
And come again in blooms revivified.
Its birth was heaven, eternal it its stay,
And with the sun and moon shall still abide
Beneath their day and night and heaven wide.
poem by John Clare
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My Gift
You are God's gift to me.
Love travelled land and sea
To rest with tranquility
In my heart.
Your smile I've always known
Before the wind had blown
Before one seed was sown
In my soul.
I rolled with the tide
Was swept far and wide.
My hopes hanging on a crescent moon.
I prayed that you would appear soon,
But i only heard your echo softly say
'Darling, I'll fly with you one day'
I yearned for the lips
I had never tasted.
Burned through the years
That without you I'd wasted.
Que sera sera
God's tuning his orchestra
Hand picking our special star
To light our stage.
Our passion would rage
If we turned the page.
Through my words in a rhyme
We met at last
Felt lonely nights drift past
You saved me just in time.
poem by Kevin East
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Moon, Moon, Crazy Moon
moon, moon, crazy moon
natural moon
torn apart and snoozing moon;
lovely moon, romantic moon
poor poor moon
the romance
plucked out of its drab surface;
moon moon going wild
moon moon running away
from the earth -
O moon, why do you run away from the earth?
does earth touch you in the wrong places
and you've got no Body
to which one could lodge
a complaint about sexual harassment? ?
ah, moon moon, temperamental moon
dark moon
glowing moon;
sexy moon
and old-woman hag of a moon;
moon moon with the best views of the earth
moon moon moon
puts me to sleep and wakes me up
in the middle of nights;
and one day we'll sleep in the moon
and produce babies there
and we'll have the first moon-ish boys and girls
and moon-ly families;
but meanwhile
moon moon driving fanatics
and inspiring love and romance and myths
moon moon eerie moon
moon moon that presides over love and horrors
and evil and good
and naked witches dancing in moonlit groves;
pooor moon moon the earth moon
not as interesting and dramatic as other moons;
don't get too friendly and dropp in -
oh, never dropp in, no one invited you
silly mooonn, no no, you're not invited home to earth
moon moon cheese moon eaten by mice;
but still our dear moon darling moon
moon mooon
our very own earth's moon
as we moo moo like cows
moo moo moo mooo
at our own moon moon moon
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Land, Ho!
I know ’tis but a loom of land,
Yet is it land, and so I will rejoice,
I know I cannot hear His voice
Upon the shore, nor see Him stand;
Yet is it land, ho! land.
The land! the land! the lovely land!
‘Far off,’ dost say? Far off—ah, blessèd home!
Farewell! farewell! thou salt sea-foam!
Ah, keel upon the silver sand—
Land, ho! land.
You cannot see the land, my land,
You cannot see, and yet the land is there—
My land, my land, through murky air—
I did not say ’twas close at hand—
But—land, ho! land.
Dost hear the bells of my sweet land,
Dost hear the kine, dost hear the merry birds?
No voice, ’tis true, no spoken words,
No tongue that thou may’st understand—
Yet is it land, ho! land.
It’s clad in purple mist, my land,
In regal robe it is apparellèd,
A crown is set upon its head,
And on its breast a golden band—
Land, ho! land.
Dost wonder that I long for land?
My land is not a land as others are—
Upon its crest there beams a star,
And lilies grow upon the strand—
Land, ho! land.
Give me the helm! there is the land!
Ha! lusty mariners, she takes the breeze!
And what my spirit sees it sees—
Leap, bark, as leaps the thunderbrand—
Land, ho! land.
poem by Thomas Edward Brown
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The Star of King David
light always goes with flames, every edge
shalom each spaces of time and the life that
resemble the star to light above and beyond
human wisdom of ages, hasten to fly
face me in the direction where no wind can
escape, the hark of angels whisper in the sky way
where everyone can stay; the stairway and life
has to pass it through, even in the middle of the
night the camel has to find its way
The sharp edges have something special, where
the footprints of the soul lives its maturity, never
anyone has to leave without harmony for thy place
is sacred and joy looks for a holiday
blameless time already has gone, for thy only
soul has to answer for all has made, close and touch
the day in the sand, as the wonderful memories will
linger in your happy morning sun
oh! star of David the hope of every son, the
light that holds me close to the Father hand; as every
name invoke thy holy Abraham, in your mercy and
lead us to the Promise land.....
poem by Antonio Liao
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Ave Imperatrix
SET in this stormy Northern sea,
Queen of these restless fields of tide,
England! what shall men say of thee,
Before whose feet the worlds divide?
The earth, a brittle globe of glass,
Lies in the hollow of thy hand,
And through its heart of crystal pass,
Like shadows through a twilight land,
The spears of crimson-suited war,
The long white-crested waves of fight,
And all the deadly fires which are
The torches of the lords of Night.
The yellow leopards, strained and lean,
The treacherous Russian knows so well,
With gaping blackened jaws are seen
Leap through the hail of screaming shell.
The strong sea-lion of England's wars
Hath left his sapphire cave of sea,
To battle with the storm that mars
The star of England's chivalry.
The brazen-throated clarion blows
Across the Pathan's reedy fen,
And the high steeps of Indian snows
Shake to the tread of armèd men.
And many an Afghan chief, who lies
Beneath his cool pomegranate-trees,
Clutches his sword in fierce surmise
When on the mountain-side he sees
The fleet-foot Marri scout, who comes
To tell how he hath heard afar
The measured roll of English drums
Beat at the gates of Kandahar.
For southern wind and east wind meet
Where, girt and crowned by sword and fire,
England with bare and bloody feet
Climbs the steep road of wide empire.
O lonely Himalayan height,
Grey pillar of the Indian sky,
Where saw'st thou last in clanging fight
Our wingèd dogs of Victory?
The almond groves of Samarcand,
Bokhara, where red lilies blow,
And Oxus, by whose yellow sand
The grave white-turbaned merchants go:
And on from thence to Ispahan,
The gilded garden of the sun,
Whence the long dusty caravan
Brings cedar and vermilion;
And that dread city of Cabool
Set at the mountain's scarpèd feet,
Whose marble tanks are ever full
With water for the noonday heat:
Where through the narrow straight Bazaar
A little maid Circassian
Is led, a present from the Czar
Unto some old and bearded khan,--
Here have our wild war-eagles flown,
And flapped wide wings in fiery fight;
But the sad dove, that sits alone
In England--she hath no delight.
In vain the laughing girl will lean
To greet her love with love-lit eyes:
Down in some treacherous black ravine,
Clutching his flag, the dead boy lies.
And many a moon and sun will see
The lingering wistful children wait
To climb upon their father's knee;
And in each house made desolate
Pale women who have lost their lord
Will kiss the relics of the slain--
Some tarnished epaulette--some sword--
Poor toys to soothe such anguished pain.
For not in quiet English fields
Are these, our brothers, lain to rest,
Where we might deck their broken shields
With all the flowers the dead love best.
For some are by the Delhi walls,
And many in the Afghan land,
And many where the Ganges falls
Through seven mouths of shifting sand.
And some in Russian waters lie,
And others in the seas which are
The portals to the East, or by
The wind-swept heights of Trafalgar.
O wandering graves! O restless sleep!
O silence of the sunless day!
O still ravine! O stormy deep!
Give up your prey! Give up your prey!
And thou whose wounds are never healed,
Whose weary race is never won,
O Cromwell's England! must thou yield
For every inch of ground a son?
Go! crown with thorns thy gold-crowned head,
Change thy glad song to song of pain;
Wind and wild wave have got thy dead,
And will not yield them back again.
Wave and wild wind and foreign shore
Possess the flower of English land--
Lips that thy lips shall kiss no more,
Hands that shall never clasp thy hand.
What profit now that we have bound
The whole round world with nets of gold,
If hidden in our heart is found
The care that groweth never old?
What profit that our galleys ride,
Pine-forest-like, on every main?
Ruin and wreck are at our side,
Grim warders of the House of pain.
Where are the brave, the strong, the fleet?
Where is our English chivalry?
Wild grasses are their burial-sheet,
And sobbing waves their threnody.
O loved ones lying far away,
What word of love can dead lips send!
O wasted dust! O senseless clay!
Is this the end! is this the end!
Peace, peace! we wrong the noble dead
To vex their solemn slumber so;
Though childless, and with thorn-crowned head,
Up the steep road must England go,
Yet when this fiery web is spun,
Her watchmen shall descry from far
The young Republic like a sun
Rise from these crimson seas of war.
poem by Oscar Wilde
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Sunday Cycle Rides
Quite often, on a Sunday morning,
Dad and I would take a cycle ride.
Up the steep hills, we would struggle,
But, down them, we would glide.
We’d cycle to villages like Monxton,
Abbott’s Ann and St Mary Bourne.
We’d pass fields of lowing cattle,
As well as fields of golden corn.
Once, as we were passing some sheep,
I gently applied my brakes and stopped.
I stood watching the cute little lambs,
As they leapt, and jumped, and hopped.
We would cycle along the back roads,
And whiz along winding, country lanes.
I felt happy enough when the sun was out,
But not so much so, when it began to rain.
Along the roads, we’d pass babbling brooks,
And horses with rhythmic clip-clopping hooves.
We’d pass village greens with duck ponds,
And pretty little cottages with thatched roofs.
But our cycle rides abruptly came to an end,
When, one day, my Dad suddenly died.
Nowadays, I don’t even own a bicycle,
But I really miss our Sunday cycle rides.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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You and I, Only in dreams
You and I sail our boats across the sea
As the wind whistled in their soft symphony
Just like love songs that I heard in my dreams
And swaying our body to the tune of wave
You squeeze me tighter closer to you, then
I see your eyes glistened like water from a blue.
Then I remember our first embrace
The smile flickers on a salty water of glee
On where we’re watching the sea birds fly.
And gaze the gloaming day at the shingle.
Those sweet memories reflect on my mind
Painted in my heart, etched in my soul
Even if, it was only seen in my dreams
Like building a castle that made of sand.
As a stroke of wave, our love will vanish along.
Is it a dream of mine that end?
Like missing you in the midst of the shore
Where my heart was left in the tide of solitude
You and I travel on the wings of love
Fly as the bird higher than high
Until we drowned in the ocean of love
Until we found the pearl of affection
That captivates each other senses
That more than our heart could ever say
But then, this love is just an illusion
That you and I is only in dreams
That can be forgotten until the morning dawn
That can be buried in the shadow of water dance.
You, and I, only in my dreams
That can be blown by winds from shore
poem by Cheryl Aldea
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Love at Sea
WE ARE in love’s land to-day;
Where shall we go?
Love, shall we start or stay,
Or sail or row?
There’s many a wind and way,
And never a May but May;
We are in love’s hand to-day;
Where shall we go?
Our landwind is the breath
Of sorrows kissed to death
And joys that were;
Our ballast is a rose;
Our way lies where God knows
And love knows where.
We are in love’s hand to-day—
Our seamen are fledged Loves,
Our masts are bills of doves,
Our decks fine gold;
Our ropes are dead maids’ hair,
Our stores are love-shafts fair
And manifold.
We are in love’s land to-day—
Where shall we land you, sweet?
On fields of strange men’s feet,
Or fields near home?
Or where the fire-flowers blow,
Or where the flowers of snow
Or flowers of foam?
We are in love’s hand to-day—
Land me, she says, where love
Shows but one shaft, one dove,
One heart, one hand.
—A shore like that, my dear,
Lies where no man will steer,
No maiden land.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Close To The Wind
Written by gerry beckley and steve levine, 1994
Found on hourglass.
Ah
Lately, it hasnt been easy
Ive been wanderin all night
Searchin, tryin to find an answer
Why Im in this situation
Ive been sailing close to the wind
Trying to keep my head above water
Close to the wind, without you
Ive been sailing close to the wind
Everyday it just gets harder
But youre all I need to survive
For so long it felt like
I was walking on the water
I found the hard part
Is waking without you in the morning
Ive been sailing close to the wind
The weight of the worlds on my shoulders (everyday now)
Close to the wind, without you
Ive been sailing close to the wind
The loneliness its neverending (yes Im falling)
Open your heart, come aboard
And if were back together
I know our love will be everlasting
I still believe that theres a chance
For us to have a happy ending
Peace will reign on earth
Life for all its worth, oh yeah
I pray every single morning
That this time we will be much stronger
Ive been sailing close to the wind
Help me try to find a shelter (to protect you)
Close to the wind without you
Ive been sailing close to the wind
But inside its safe and warm now (were together)
Dont be afraid of the storm
Ive been sailing close, close to the wind (been sailing in)
(close to the wind) dont be afraid of the storm
Ive been sailing close, close to the wind (been sailing in)
(close to the wind) dont be afraid of the storm ...
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumnal Sonnet
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods,
And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt,
And night by night the monitory blast
Wails in the key-hold, telling how it pass'd
O'er empty fields, or upland solitudes,
Or grim wide wave; and now the power is felt
Of melancholy, tenderer in its moods
Than any joy indulgent summer dealt.
Dear friends, together in the glimmering eve,
Pensive and glad, with tones that recognise
The soft invisible dew in each one's eyes,
It may be, somewhat thus we shall have leave
To walk with memory,--when distant lies
Poor Earth, where we were wont to live and grieve.
poem by William Allingham
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Tonight Is For Dreamers
Written by russ ballard, 1983
Found on your move.
Here I am, there you are
Who would believe we could come this far
Were beneath this magic moon
The ocean plays its own sweet tune
The summer breeze it whispers low
It tells us something we both know
Tonight is for dreamers
Tonight someone up there has seen us
How we feel for each other
There could be no other
So he sent these words from above
Tonight is for falling in love
Oo, ah
(oo, la, la ... ) tonight theres magic in the air
Look around, its everywhere
Hear the sand birds bill and coo
Actin like they know it too
Hear the wind pass through the trees
Like its tellin everyone it sees
Tonight is for dreamers
Tonight someone up there has seen us
How we feel for each other (ah)
There could be no other
So he sent these words from above
Tonight is for falling in love
There cant have ever been such a night
I dont want it to end
With you in my arms girl I feel so high
Hell, I dont ever want to descend
Tonight is for dreamers
Tonight someone up there has seen us
How we feel for each other (ah)
There could be no other
So he sent these words from above
(I love you)
Tonight is for dreamers
Tonight someone up there has seen us
And I cant hold you enough (oo)
Tonight is for dreamers
Tonight someone up there has seen us
He sent these words from above
Tonight is for falling in love
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Saturday Night Dance Blind Date
I knew as sure as the sun doth rise when I first saw your face
My life had truly begun,
As the earth became the moon I became weightless
You magic became my sun,
I knew to return your warmth and win your love as
Flowers applauded you,
The trees, green grass and the birds above
Everything in your orbit flew.
My quest, to gather all the universal stars
To lay them at your feet,
Build a fairy castle to ward off any curse
Like heaven's hands to greet.
I a teenage poor boy asked for your hand
All the rainbows smiled,
A gentle yes made the entire colours wave so grand,
Your inner soul so meek and mild
Together forever striding the path of life,
Taking punches below the belt
Greeting happiness as man and wife.
Times of sadness which everyone has felt
Climbing mountains fording streams,
Seven decades together
Now with family our dreams fulfilled,
It all means our love will last forever, and
When the lights do go out we will
Still be dancing in the dark.
poem by Ken e Hall
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Away With The Faeries And Wired To The Moon
You can smile at a breeze and I’ve seen it too
Dancing with life, there’s nothing ever blue
Life out of love and love amongst the trees
Nobody knows what a blind man sees
You’re away with the faeries; I’m wired to the moon
Some might say you’re crazy, some say that I’m half mad
Even if that’s true, we know it aint so bad
Some may say I’m lazy, if they wanna make that call
But we shared a whole eternity, from spring until the fall
You’re away with the faeries; I’m wired to the moon
Away with the faeries and wired to the moon
They say that you’re half crazy, but they’ll all be crazy soon
They wonder what it’s all about
You’re happy in and happy out
You’re away with the faeries; I’m wired to the moon
We had parties just for two, and we sank each others’ boats
Twenty psychotherapists could make a million notes
If they could see your artwork and my mushrooms made by hand
But that’s what made us happy in our happy little land
You’re away with the faeries and I’m still wired to the moon
You’re away with the faeries and I’m still wired to the moon
poem by Kris Whelan
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Retirement
Fresh fields and woods! the Earth's fair face,
God's foot-stool, and man's dwelling-place.
I ask not why the first Believer
Did love to be a country liver?
Who to secure pious content
Did pitch by groves and wells his tent;
Where he might view the boundless sky,
And all those glorious lights on high;
With flying meteors, mists and show'rs,
Subjected hills, trees, meads and flow'rs;
And ev'ry minute bless the King
And wise Creator of each thing.
I ask not why he did remove
To happy Mamre's holy grove,
Leaving the cities of the plain
To Lot and his successless train?
All various lusts in cities still
Are found; they are the thrones of ill;
The dismal sinks, where blood is spill'd,
Cages with much uncleanness fill'd.
But rural shades are the sweet fense
Of piety and innocence.
They are the Meek's calm region, where
Angels descend and rule the sphere,
Where heaven lies leiger, and the dove
Duly as dew, comes from above.
If Eden be on Earth at all,
'Tis that, which we the country call.
poem by Henry Vaughan
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The House Of Dust: Part 01: 02: One, from his high bright window in a tower
One, from his high bright window in a tower,
Leans out, as evening falls,
And sees the advancing curtain of the shower
Splashing its silver on roofs and walls:
Sees how, swift as a shadow, it crosses the city,
And murmurs beyond far walls to the sea,
Leaving a glimmer of water in the dark canyons,
And silver falling from eave and tree.
One, from his high bright window, looking down,
Peers like a dreamer over the rain-bright town,
And thinks its towers are like a dream.
The western windows flame in the sun's last flare,
Pale roofs begin to gleam.
Looking down from a window high in a wall
He sees us all;
Lifting our pallid faces towards the rain,
Searching the sky, and going our ways again,
Standing in doorways, waiting under the trees . . .
There, in the high bright window he dreams, and sees
What we are blind to,—we who mass and crowd
From wall to wall in the darkening of a cloud.
The gulls drift slowly above the city of towers,
Over the roofs to the darkening sea they fly;
Night falls swiftly on an evening of rain.
The yellow lamps wink one by one again.
The towers reach higher and blacker against the sky.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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