Music
Down the quiet eve,
Thro' my window with the sunset
Pipes to me a distant organ
Foolish ditties;
And, as when you change
Pictures in a magic lantern,
Books, beds, bottles, floor, and ceiling
Fade and vanish,
And I'm well once more . . .
August flares adust and torrid,
But my heart is full of April
Sap and sweetness.
In the quiet eve
I am loitering, longing, dreaming . . .
Dreaming, and a distant organ
Pipes me ditties.
I can see the shop,
I can smell the sprinkled pavement,
Where she serves-her chestnut chignon
Thrills my senses!
O, the sight and scent,
Wistful eve and perfumed pavement!
In the distance pipes an organ . . .
The sensation
Comes to me anew,
And my spirit for a moment
Thro' the music breathes the blessed
Airs of London.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Related quotes
Just an Organ
It has been stated that the heart is just in organ.
But if it was just in organ why when a person falls in love they can feel that emotion in their heart.
If it was just an organ why when love is lost does the sadness that one feels seem to shatter the heart?
If the heart is just an organ why when a child wins a prize does a parent feel pride in their heart?
The heart is much more than just in organ it is the house of our emotions.
From the emotion of love, and sadness to the pride that swells in each of us.
The heart is not just an organ.
Violet The Organ Grinder
Chorus:
I am violet the organ grinder
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I wont go away
I am violet the organ grinder
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I wont go away
Ooh, wait a minute, I think u better trip on this
Ooh, wait a minute, I think u better trip on this
I was on my way to another room
When an image of u sweetly
Appeared in the mirror
Perhaps u recall
U and I were neatly
In the middle of a crystal ball
That now serves as a reminder
On the wall of u and I the organ grinder
In the greatest concert of them all
I am violet the organ grinder {chorus in the background}
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I wont go away
Did u know that I still have your stockings?
I keep em in a drawer next to your brazier
Come hither, my sweet, lend me your attention,
Come hither lend my your ear
I do believe that my piano was stolen
I do believe that u want me near
Well I can deal with a sucker
If hes in your mouth,
But I cant deal with insincere
Im the one that lives in your heart
U love me, no matter what u say
Swear you dont miss the organ grinder
Grinding on you every day
I am violet the organ grinder (I am violet the organ grinder)
And I grind all the live long day (and I grind all the live long day)
(check this out)
Ooh, wait a minute, I think u better trip on this
I took all the pictures you gave me,
And I placed them right under my bed
And I pumped and I pumped
til the gasm much as jumped
From my feet to the top of my head, oh boy!
Im violet the organ grinder {chorus in the background}
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I will not go away
Ooh, wait a minute, I think u better trip on this
Like a puppy, I licked your devotion
From your neck from your eyes from your ears
When you cry, I became your emotion,
And if u ever cry like that again
Ill be here
cause Im violet the organ grinder {chorus in the background}
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that Im grinding
Ill die, but I wont go away
Not even...
[peace to the mutha]
(who turned the mother out)
[peace to the mutha]
(who turned the mother out)
I am violet the organ grinder
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I wont go away
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A lot of places we go, when they see the organ coming in, they're expecting rock and roll, but after they hear us play they like it. To me, guitar cuts through-it carries more than organ. But organ has got more guts.
quote by Wes Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I played the organ when I went to military school, when I was 10. They had a huge organ, the second-largest pipe organ in New York State. I loved all the buttons and the gadgets. I've always been a gadget man.
quote by Stephen Sondheim
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Me At My Fifth-Floor Window
To me at my fifth-floor window
The chimney-pots in rows
Are sets of pipes pandean
For every wind that blows;
And the smoke that whirls and eddies
In a thousand times and keys
Is really a visible music
Set to my reveries.
O monstrous pipes, melodious
With fitful tune and dream,
The clouds are your only audience,
Her thought is your only theme!
poem by William Ernest Henley
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I had been inspired by an organ player named Earl Grant, who played organ and piano together. My mom took me to see him. So I went home, put my piano and organ together, too.
quote by Billy Preston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That evening the forest of organ pipes did not play
That evening the forest of organ pipes did not play.
A native cradle sang Schubert for us,
The mill was grinding, the music's blue-eyed drunkenness
Laughed in the songs of the hurricane.
The brown-green world of the old song,
But only eternally young where the Erl-king
Shakes the rumbling crowns of nightingaled
Linden trees in savage rage.
The awesome force of night's return,
That wild song, like black wine:
It is a double, a hollow ghost
Peering senselessly through the cold window!
poem by Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
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Me & My Broken Heart
Writer - hank williams
(f) we were waiting at the (c) church,
We watched and saw the wedding (g7) start,
As the (f) organ played, we (c) stood there and prayed,
Just (g7) me and my broken (c) heart.
Oh, (g7) cant you see what you have (c) done, (c7)
To (f) me, oh foolish foolish (c) pride, (c7)
(f) you brought tears and sorrow (c) to,
An (g7) untrue heart that never (c) cried.
I (g7) saw the sunshine of my (c) life, (c7)
Who (f) once I know just worshiped (c) me, (c7)
(f) standin by anothers (c) side,
And (g7) soon his bride shell (c) be.
(f) I bowed my head in grief and (c) shame,
As I felt the teardrops (g7) start,
But as the (f) organ played, we (c) stood there and prayed,
Just (g7) me and my broken (c) heart.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Lost Chord
SEATED one day at the Organ,
I was weary and ill at ease,
And my fingers wandered idly
Over the noisy keys.
I do not know what I was playing,
Or what I was dreaming then ;
But I struck one chord of music,
Like the sound of a great Amen.
It flooded the crimson twilight,
Like the close of an Angel's Psalm,
And it lay on my fevered spirit
With a touch of infinite calm.
It quieted pain and sorrow,
Like love overcoming strife ;
It seemed the harmonious echo
From our discordant life.
It linked all perplexéd meanings
Into one perfect peace,
And trembled away into silence
As if it were loth to cease.
I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
That one lost chord divine,
Which came from the soul of the Organ,
And entered into mine.
It may be that Death's bright angel
Will speak in that chord again,
It may be that only in Heaven
I shall hear that grand Amen.
poem by Adelaide Anne Procter
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I Heard You, Solemn-sweep Pipes Of The Organ
I HEARD you, solemn-sweet pipes of the organ, as last Sunday morn I
pass'd the church;
Winds of autumn!--as I walk'd the woods at dusk, I heard your long-
stretch'd sighs, up above, so mournful;
I heard the perfect Italian tenor, singing at the opera--I heard the
soprano in the midst of the quartet singing;
... Heart of my love!--you too I heard, murmuring low, through one of
the wrists around my head;
Heard the pulse of you, when all was still, ringing little bells last
night under my ear.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Mammary Tunes
Under heavy haze I cast an ear…
Was that a distant hymn?
To view, to peer ahead,
I span thro’ sharpened eyes,
Connecting brain. Surprise
Awards emotion to the show –
A fine refrain.
I think I know the source:
Without recourse my keen and
Eager shoes propel my whole.
And she regales me as I close –
The drifting notes propose I place
An ear to verge upon the emanation.
Choice of left or right
Invites and overwhelms;
A brief respite, and then
I poise an aural organ,
Seeking out the balance
In the tone from rhythmic flesh.
O Holy Grail, the sweet spot!
Honed in stereophony and
Mastered out of euphony:
Her music –
Diaphragms of luscious areolae
Give the tune
Atop a vibrant bass –
Quivers in the
Belly of her breast.
And presently
I fall beneath a spell of heady music
As her reproductive cushions do the rest.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Hanover Winter Song
Ho, a song by the fire;
Pass the pipes, pass the bowl.
Ho, a song by the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Ho, a song by the fire;
Pass the pipes with a skoal,
For the wolf-wind is wailing at the doorways,
And the snow drifts deep along the road,
And the ice gnomes are marching from their Norways,
And the great white cold walks abroad.
But, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here, we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows;
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship.
Oh, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha, we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows.
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship,
Of fellowship
Pile the logs on the fire;
Fill the pipes, pass the bowl.
Pile the logs on the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Pile the logs on the fire;
Fill the pipes with a skoal,
For the fire goblins flicker on the ceiling,
And the wine witch glitters in the glass,
And the smoke wraiths are drifting, curling, reeling,
And the sleigh bells jingle as they pass.
But, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here, we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows;
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship.
Oh, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha, we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows.
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship,
Of fellowship
Oh, a God is the fire;
Pull the pipes, drain the bowl.
Oh, a God is the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Oh, a God is the fire;
Pull the pipes with a skoal,
For the room has a spirit in the embers,
Tis a God and our fathers knew his name,
And they worship'd him in long-forgot Decembers,
And their hearts leap'd high with the flame.
poem by Richard Hovey
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Already Dies.
After the service
at the church
on Sunday morning
in 1962
she and you
leaving the choir
and she taking your hand
in hers and staying behind
until the others had gone
she kisses your lips
and the echo
of the organ’s drone
silent and the smell
of her mother’s
borrowed scent
lingering in the air
and knowing her sister
would be waiting outside
prepared to tell her mother
if she caught glimpse of kiss
or any hold of hands
and half deaf organist
Mr Lundon stomping about
in the organ loft above
and all you wanted
was to stay there
with the kiss and love
and her lips and the look
in her big blue eyes
not knowing then
that all things
however good
move on and something
inside her already dies.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Piper On The Hills
A CHILD'S SONG
There sits a piper on the hill
Who pipes the livelong day,
And when he pipes both loud and shrill,
The frightened people say
‘The wind, the wind is blowing up,
'Tis rising to a gale.’
The women hurry to the shore
To watch some distant sail.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Is blowing to a gale.
But when he pipes all sweet and low,
The piper on the hill,
I hear the merry women go
With laughter, loud and shrill
‘The wind, the wind is coming south,
'Twill blow a gentle day.’
They gather on the meadow-land,
To toss the yellow hay.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Is blowing south to-day.
And in the morn, when winter comes,
To keep the piper warm,
The little Angels shake their wings
To make a feather storm
‘The snow, the snow has come at last!’
The happy children call,
And ‘ring around’ they dance in glee,
And watch the snowflakes fall.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Has spread a snowy pall.
But when at night the piper plays,
I have not any fear,
Because God's windows open wide
The pretty tune to hear;
And when each crowding spirit looks,
From its star window-pane,
A watching mother may behold
Her little child again.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
May blow her home again.
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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Veille
Pipes de nuit pipes du jour
Tout l'opium ô chevelures
Les cheveux bruns de mon amour
Et ces lenteurs tandis que dure
L'éveil des monstres tour à tour
poem by Guillaume Apollinaire
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The Church of Unbent Knees
AS I went by the church to-day
I heard the organ cry;
And goodly folk were on their knees,
But I went striding by.
My minister hath a roof more vast:
My aisles are oak-trees high;
My altar-cloth is on the hills,
My organ is the sky.
I see my rood upon the clouds,
The winds, my chanted choir;
My crystal windows, heaven-glazed,
Are stained with sunset fire.
The stars, the thunder, and the rain,
White sands and purple seas-
These are His pulpit and His pew,
My God of Unbent Knees!
poem by Christopher Morley
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The Blue Kingfisher
Where the little river gleaming
Thro' its shadows green and cool
Broadens to the quiet dreaming
Of a little shady pool;
There an azure jewel burning
O'er the waters you may spy,
Never moving never turning:
'Tis the silent fisher,
Head aloft above the river,
With an apathetic air,
Not the smallest quirk nor quiver
Warns you of my presence there.
Mayhap you will thnk me sleeping -
Dreaming summer days away -
Till you mark a keen eye peeping
Where the tell-tale ripples play.
Now a dive, a sudden darting,
Now a flash of gold and blue,
And the placid waters parting
Let my gleaming body thro'.
Then, long ere the ripples, spreading,
Circle to the pool's green lip
Back to safety I am heading;
And the kill is in my grip.
So I haunt the cool, dark places
By the river, from that hour
When the dawn's bright finger traces
Fairy lights about my bower,
Till the western hilltops redden,
Fade, and vanish I am there,
And the far skies, growing leaden,
Bid me seek my secret lair.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Firetail's Nest
'Tweet' pipes the robin as the cat creeps by
Her nestling young that in the elderns lie,
And then the bluecap tootles in its glee,
Picking the flies from orchard apple tree,
And 'pink' the chaffinch cries its well-known strain,
Urging its kind to utter 'pink' again,
While in a quiet mood hedgesparrows try
An inward stir of shadowed melody.
Around the rotten tree the firetail mourns
As the old hedger to his toil returns,
Chopping the grain to stop the gap close by
The hole where her blue eggs in safety lie.
Of everything that stirs she dreameth wrong
And pipes her 'tweet tut' fears the whole day long.
poem by John Clare
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Ditties
Upon 'these' walls,
I intend to scrawl...
And leave my ditties.
Many may consider my ditties,
Unwitty.
With a lack of depth.
And uneffective at best.
But I believe my ditties left,
Provided for me a therapy.
And if I received a peace of mind from this...
Those who were displeased,
Will eventually get over it.
Upon 'these' walls,
I intend to scrawl...
And leave my ditties.
Some will be read as humor to please.
While others will be skipped over,
To dismiss...
By those who see what I leave,
As rantings done by another one...
Who should seek immediate counseling,
From a professional therapist...
Who will not charge me a dime to probe!
Hoping to uncover a treasure trove.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When Did I Stop Dreaming?
You appeared when I was lost in reverie
If this is not a dream, it's my mistake
And now I lie in wait for dawn to break
I'm fairly sure I'm wide awake
Pardon me, if I seem distant and strange
Just tell me when did I stop dreaming?
Let me get this straight
Did I hallucinate?
This fine and helpless feeling
Tell me when did I stop dreaming?
Let me know if you can help me explain
I didn't recognise the danger
But people will talk
Was I just sleepwalking?
Footprints left on the ceiling
Tell me when did I stop dreaming?
Then why should you care?
This is my nightmare
Was this one dream too deep?
Now if I could only sleep
Answer me, if you see the end in sight
I'm just a soul who's lost in limbo
Neither bad or good
I'd spare you now if I could
One more teardrop
Then I'll wake up
Tell me when did I stop dreaming?
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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