The Host Of The Air
O'DRISCOLL drove with a song
The wild duck and the drake
From the tall and the tufted reeds
Of the drear Hart Lake.
And he saw how the reeds grew dark
At the coming of night-tide,
And dreamed of the long dim hair
Of Bridget his bride.
He heard while he sang and dreamed
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.
And he saw young men and young girls
Who danced on a level place,
And Bridget his bride among them,
With a sad and a gay face.
The dancers crowded about him
And many a sweet thing said,
And a young man brought him red wine
And a young girl white bread.
But Bridget drew him by the sleeve
Away from the merry bands,
To old men playing at cards
With a twinkling of ancient hands.
The bread and the wine had a doom,
For these were the host of the air;
He sat and played in a dream
Of her long dim hair.
He played with the merry old men
And thought not of evil chance,
Until one bore Bridget his bride
Away from the merry dance.
He bore her away in his atms,
The handsomest young man there,
And his neck and his breast and his arms
Were drowned in her long dim hair.
O'Driscoll scattered the cards
And out of his dream awoke:
Old men and young men and young girls
Were gone like a drifting smoke;
But he heard high up in the air
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
When I Was A Young Girl
(A Song of Old Ballads)
WHEN I was a young girl, all in a green arbor,
When I was a young girl in Springtimes gone by
All the long days I went singing and smiling,
Down by the roses the sweet days beguiling,
Love in the arbor and love in the sky . . .
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, how happy was I!
Oh, the long days I must sit at my sampler,
Oh, the slow way that the still time would go!
I longed to be running across the bright heather,
'Off with the silk gown and on with the leather,
Following the raggle-taggle gypsies, oh!'
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, a long time ago!
When I was a young girl in days that were golden,
When I was a young girl, and life had no smart,
All the world seemed a place for my playing,
Full of great lovers to come to me, saying,
'Madam, I give you the keys of my heart . . .'
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, and dreaming apart!
When I was a young girl, I dreamed of my lover,
A tall cavalier who should whisper me low,
'Love, on your lips are red roses a-blowing,
I am your true love, and fast is time going
Am I your true love? Oh, say yes or no!'
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl–
When I was a young girl, a long time ago!
When I was a young girl there came my true lover,
Swiftly I knew him in glad days gone by;
Never a sword or a lovelock or feather,
But oh, at his touch 'twas our hearts came together,
Love in the arbor and love in the sky . . .
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, how happy was I!
poem by Margaret Widdemer
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Introduction to the Songs of Innocence
Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:
'Pipe a song about a Lamb!'
So I piped with merry cheer.
'Piper, pipe that song again;'
So I piped: he wept to hear.
'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
Sing thy songs of happy cheer:!'
So I sang the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.
'Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book, that all may read.'
So he vanish'd from my sight;
And I pluck'd a hollow reed,
And I made a rural pen,
And I stain'd the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.
poem by William Blake
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Piping Down the Valleys Wild
Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:
'Pipe a song about a lamb!'
So I piped with merry cheer.
'Piper, pipe that song again.'
So I piped: he wept to hear.
'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
Sing thy songs of happy cheer.'
So I sung the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.
'Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book, that all may read.'
So he vanished from my sight,
And I plucked a hollow reed,
And I made a rural pen,
And I stained the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.
poem by William Blake
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Reeds of Innocence
Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:
'Pipe a song about a Lamb!'
So I piped with merry cheer.
'Piper, pipe that song again;'
So I piped: he wept to hear.
'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
Sing thy songs of happy cheer!'
So I sung the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.
'Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book that all may read.'
So he vanish'd from my sight;
And I pluck'd a hollow reed,
And I made a rural pen,
And I stain'd the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.
poem by William Blake
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Songs Of Innocence: Introduction
Piping down the valleys wild
Piping songs of pleasant glee
On a cloud I saw a child.
And he laughing said to me.
Pipe a song about a Lamb:
So I piped with merry chear,
Piper, pipe that song again--
So I piped, he wept to hear.
Drop thy pipe thy happy pipe
Sing thy songs of happy chear,
So I sung the same again
While he wept with joy to hear
Piper sit thee down and write
In a book that all may read--
So he vanished from my sight
And I pluck'd a hollow reed.
And I made a rural pen,
And I stained the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs,
Every child may joy to hear.
poem by William Blake
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Introduction
Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:
‘Pipe a song about a Lamb!’
So I piped with merry cheer.
‘Piper, pipe that song again.’
So I piped: he wept to hear.
‘Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
Sing thy songs of happy cheer:’
So I sung the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.
‘Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book, that all may read.’
So he vanish'd from my sight;
And I pluck'd a hollow reed,
And I made a rural pen,
And I stained the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.
poem by William Blake from Songs of Innocence (1789)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Way Young Lovers Do
(van morrison)
Originally contained in van morrison's astral weeks
Oh...
We strolled through fields all wet with rain
And back along the lane again
There in the sunshine
In the sweet summertime
Oh the way that young lovers do
I kissed you on the lips once more
We said goodbye at your front door
There in the nighttime
Love, that's the right time
Oh to feel the way that young lovers do
And we sat on our own star and dreamed of the way that we were and the
Way that we wanted to be
And we sat on our own star and dreamed of the way that i was for you
And that you were for me
And then we long to dance the night away
Turned to each other, saying 'i love you, baby i love you'
Oh the way that young lovers do
Lovers do...
Do, do, do, do...
The way young lovers do
Do, do, do, do...
The way young lovers do...
And we sat on our own star and dreamed of the way that we were and the way
That we wanted to be
And we sat on our own star and dreamed of the way that i was for you
And you were for me
Oh baby, baby.
And then we long to dance the night away
And turned to each other, saying 'i love you, baby i love you'
Oh the way...
I held her with her looking down
And i kissed her, with the snow falling down
In the street light
It was a sweet light
And the way that young...
Oh, the way that young lovers...
Oh the way that young... that young lovers...
That young lovers do.
(good night)
song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Girl
Young girl Abused and broken
Young girl Alone and Frightened
Young girl Worthless and Ugly
Young girl feels so alone
She has no one to hold her
Young girl's father to drunk to even care
The young girl gets beaten everyday
The young girl wanting to runaway
Young girl will not leave her father alone
Like he has done to her
This young girl's teacher has a note
She reads the note aloud to the class
This young girl was beaten to death
No one had the guts to save her
This young girl bruised and dead
This young girl buried in the cold ground
This young girl has no one to visit her grave
No one asked her how she got her bruises
No one even took a second chance
Goodbye young girl fly away into the arms of God
For He loved you and always will
This young girl happy again
poem by Jasmine Kayleen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Still I Love To Rhyme
STILL I love to rhyme, and still more, rhyming, to wander
Far from the commoner way;
Old-time trills and falls by the brook-side still do I ponder,
Dreaming to-morrow to-day.
Come here, come, revive me, Sun-God, teach me, Apollo,
Measures descanted before;
Since I ancient verses, I emulous follow,
Prints in the marbles of yore.
Still strange, strange, they sound in old-young raiment invested,
Songs for the brain to forget -
Young song-birds elate to grave old temples benested
Piping and chirruping yet.
Thoughts? No thought has yet unskilled attempted to flutter
Trammelled so vilely in verse;
He who writes but aims at fame and his bread and his butter,
Won with a groan and a curse.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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The Young Ones
The young ones,
Darling were the young ones,
And young ones shouldnt be afraid.
To live, love
While the flame is strong,
For we wont be the young ones very long.
Tomorrow,
Why wait till tomorrow,
Tomorrow sometimes never comes.
Love, me,
Theres a song to be sung
And the best time is to sing while were young.
Once in every lifetime
Comes a love like this.
I need you and you need me.
Oh my darling cant you see.
Young dreams
Should be dreamed together,
Young hearts shouldnt be afraid.
And some day when the years have flown
Darling, this will teach the young ones of our own.
The young ones
Darling, were the young ones
The young ones
Darling, were the young ones.
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I Was Young And Young I Am
When I was young and young I am
I dreamed I'd be a better man
I dreamed I'd live a life of joy
And here I am an aging boy
Twenty now and still a child
Tame at times at others wild
I dreamed I’d be a better man
When I was young and young I am.
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young American
They pulled in just behind the fridge
He lays her down, he frowns
"Gee my life's a funny thing, am I still too young?"
He kissed her then and there
She took his ring, took his babies
It took him minutes, took her nowhere
Heaven knows, she'd have taken anything, but
All night
She wants the young American
Young American, young American, she wants the young American
All right
She wants the young American
Scanning life through the picture windows
She finds the slinky vagabond
He coughs as he passes her Ford Mustang, but
Heaven forbid, she'll take anything
But the freak, and his type, all for nothing
He misses a step and cuts his hand, but
Showing nothing, he swoops like a song
She cries "Where have all Papa's heroes gone?"
All night
She wants the young American
Young American, young American, she wants the young American
All right
She wants the young American
All the way from Washington
Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor
"We live for just these twenty years
Do we have to die for the fifty more?"
All night
He wants the young American
Young American, young American, he wants the young American
All right
He wants the young American
Do you remember, your President Nixon?
Do you remember, the bills you have to pay
Or even yesterday
Have you been an un-American?
Just you and your idol singing falsetto 'bout
Leather, leather everywhere, and
Not a myth left from the ghetto
Well, well, well, would you carry a razor
In case, just in case of depression
Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors
Blushing at all the afro-Sheilas
Ain't that close to love?
Well, ain't that poster love?
Well, it ain't that Barbie doll
Her heart's been broken just like you have
And
All night
You want the young American
Young American, young American, you want the young American
All right
You want the young American
You ain't a pimp and you ain't a hustler
A pimp's got a Cadi and a lady got a Chrysler
Black's got respect, and white's got his soul train
Mama's got cramps, and look at your hands ache
I heard the news today, oh boy
I got a suite and you got defeat
Ain't there a man you can say no more?
And, ain't there a woman I can sock on the jaw?
And, ain't there a child I can hold without judging?
Ain't there a pen that will write before they die?
Ain't you proud that you've still got faces?
Ain't there one damn song that can make me
break down and cry?
All night
I want the young American
Young American, young American, I want the young American
All right
I want the young American
Young American
Young American, young American, I want the young American
(I want with you, I want with you want)
All right
(You want it, I want you you, you want I, I want you want)
Young American, young American, I want the young American (I want to want, to want, to want , to want I, I want you)
All right
(Lord I wanted the young american)
(young american)
Young American, Young American
I want the young American
Mmmmmm mmm
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cornet
When she came out, that white little Russian dancer,
With her bright hair, and her eyes, so young, so young,
He suddenly lost his leader, and all the players,
And only heard an immortal music sung,-
Of dryads flashing in the green woods of April,
On cobwebs trembling over the deep, wet grass:
Fleeing their shadows with laughter, with hands uplifted,
Through the whirled sinister sun he saw them pass,-
Lovely immortals gone, yet existing somewhere,
Still somewhere laughing in woods of immortal green,
Young he had lived among fires, or dreamed of living,
Lovers in youth once seen, or dreamed he had seen. . .
And watched her knees flash up, and her young hands beckon,
And the hair that streamed behind, and the taunting eyes.
He felt this place dissolving in living darkness,
And through the darkness he felt his childhood rise.
Soft, and shining, and sweet, hands filled with petals. . .
And watching her dance, he was grateful to forget
The fiddlers, leaning and drawing their bows together,
And the tired fingers on the stops of his cornet.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Turns and Movies: The Cornet
When she came out, that white little Russian dancer,
With her bright hair, and her eyes, so young, so young,
He suddenly lost his leader, and all the players,
And only heard an immortal music sung,--
Of dryads flashing in the green woods of April,
On cobwebs trembing over the deep, wet grass:
Fleeing their shadows with laughter, with hands uplifted,
Through the whirled sinister sun he saw them pass,--
Lovely immortals gone, yet existing somewhere,
Still somewhere laughing in woods of immortal green,
Young he had lived among fires, or dreamed of living,
Lovers in youth once seen, or dreamed he had seen. . .
And watched her knees flash up, and her young hands beckon,
And the hair that streamed behind, and the taunting eyes.
He felt this place dissolving in living darkness,
And through the darkness he felt his childhood rise.
Soft, and shining, and sweet, hands filled with petals. . .
And watching her dance, he was grateful to forget
The fiddlers, leaning and drawing their bows together,
And the tired fingers on the stops of his cornet.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bridget And The Bridge
Young Bridget was a cautious soul,
Not one to risk her all,
She'd rather have her self-control
Than jump up high then fall...
That's why she froze one Summer's day,
When at the bridge she stood...
She didn't trust the stones or clay,
She didn't trust the wood!
While others crossed the bridge ahead,
She watched through gritted teeth,
With one almighty sense of dread
That strengthened disbelief...
Yet there she stood while buses drove,
Full up for all to see,
Her mind, though numbed, for courage strove,
Yet brave she wouldn't be...
So Bridget made her way back home,
As if she had no choice,
As if no more from home to roam,
While she regained her poise...
Though fifty years have come and gone,
The bridge remains quite strong...
While Bridget lived her life alone,
Still asking, 'Was I wrong? '
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Morning Dew
(tim rose/bonnie dobson)
Warner-tamerlane publishing corp.
B.m.i.
Walk me out in the morning dew
Walk me out in the morning dew today
I cant walk you out in no morning dew
I cant walk you out in no morning dew at all
Thought I heard a young girl cryin mama
Thought I heard a young girl cry today
You never heard no young girl cryin
You never heard no young girl cry at all
Thought I heard a young boy cryin mama
Thought I heard a young boy cry today
You didnt hear no young boy cryin buddy
You never heard no young boy cry at all
Thought I heard a young man cryin mama
Thought I heard a young man cry today
You never heard no young man cryin
You never heard no young man cry at all
Now there is no more morning dew
Now there is no more morning dew
What theyve been sayin all these years is true
Now there is no more morning dew.
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Way Young Lovers Do
We strolled through fields all wet with rain
And back along the lane again
There in the sunshine
In the sweet summertime
The way that young lovers do
I kissed you on the lips once more
And we said goodbye just adoring the nighttime
Yeah, thats the right time
To feel the way that young lovers do
Then we sat on our own star and dreamed of the way that we were
And the way that we were meant to be
Then we sat on our own star and dreamed of the way that I was for you
And you were for me
And then we danced the night away
And turned to each other, say, i love you, I love you
The way that young lovers do
Do, do, do, do...
Then we sat on our star and dreamed of the way that we were and the way
That we wanted to be
Then we sat on our own star and dreamed of the way that I was for you
And you were for me
I went on to dance the night away
And turned to each other, say, i love you, baby, I love you
The way that young lovers do, lovers do, lovers do
Do, do, do, do....
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Be Young Again
Times goes slow when young
times flies when we get old
playing from morning till dusk
lot of musk and mud
forever to be young again
from skateboards, to bicycles, to palaying war
picking on girls, teasing them to the gills
fishing down the river, making pacts
how to be so young again
from tags to mag
racing cars, to earning scars
winning games, winning hearts
kissing girls and doing swirls of dance
to be so young again
remembering all the fun
now its time to tell the young ones
what it is to be so young
poem by Michael Peterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Piper
AGAIN I hear you piping, for I know the tune so well, -
You rouse the heart to wander and be free,
Tho' where you learned your music, not the God of song can tell,
For you pipe the open highway and the sea.
O piper, lightly footing, lightly piping on your way,
Tho' your music thrills and pierces far and near,
I tell you you had better pipe to someone else to-day,
For you cannot pipe my fancy from my dear.
You sound the note of travel through the hamlet and the town;
You would lure the holy angels from on high;
And not a man can hear you, but he throws the hammer down
And is off to see the countries ere he die.
But now no more I wander, now unchanging here I stay;
By my love, you find me safely sitting here:
And pipe you ne'er so sweetly, till you pipe the hills away,
You can never pipe my fancy from my dear.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Was Young Once Too
Written by richard leigh and robert byrne
He raced that engine down the track round the tree on christmas day
I was so amazed my dad would play with trains
I saw a sparkle in his eye, then I heard him say, come on son lets play, i
Was young once, too
He washed that buick faithfully, lord he kept her clean
I thought that machine meant more to him than me
On the day I turned sixteen he threw me the keys
Said I was young once, too, now she belongs to you
He was such a young man then, Im older than that now
I hope I measure up to him, when the circle comes around
I saw him in the attic sittin cross legged on the floor
With some old photographs, he point and laughed
He said, thats me in that picture, I said, no son, thats your dad
I was young once, too, and looked a lot like you
I was young once, too, I was young once, too
Merry christmas son, I wish your grandpa were here
He was young once, too, and looked like me and you
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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