On Hearing
O stay, harmonious and sweet sounds, that die
In the long vaultings of this ancient fane!
Stay, for I may not hear on earth again
Those pious airs--that glorious harmony;
Lifting the soul to brighter orbs on high,
Worlds without sin or sorrow! Ah, the strain
Has died--even the last sounds that lingeringly
Hung on the roof ere they expired!
And I
Stand in the world of strife, amidst a throng,
A throng that reckons not of death or sin!
Oh, jarring scenes! to cease, indeed, ere long;
The worm hears not the discord and the din;
But he whose heart thrills to this angel song
Feels the pure joy of heaven on earth begin!
poem by William Lisle Bowles
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Related quotes
It Came Upon Midnight Clear (Babys In Black)
===============================
It Came Upon a Midnight Clear
===============================
It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace on the earth, good will to men,
From heaven's all-gracious King."
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.
Still through the cloven skies they come
With peaceful wings unfurled,
And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world;
Above its sad and lowly plains
They bend on hovering wing,
And ever o'er its Babel-sounds
The blessed angels sing.
Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffered long;
Beneath the heavenly strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man, at war with man, hears not
The tidings which they bring;
O hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing!
O ye, beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
O rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing!
For lo! the days are hastening on,
By prophets seen of old,
When with the ever-circling years
Shall come the time foretold,
When peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling,
And the whole world give back the song
Which now the angels sing.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Amaranth
ONCE a poet—long ago—
Wrote a song as void of art
As the songs that children know,
And as pure as a child’s heart.
With a sigh he threw it down,
Saying, “This will never shed
Any glory or renown
On my name when I am dead.
“I will sing a lordly song
Men shall hear, when I am gone,
Through the years sound clear and strong
As a golden clarion.”
So this lordly song he sang
That would gain him deathless fame—
When the death-knell o’er him rang
No man even knew its name.
Ay, and when his way he found
To the place of singing souls,
And beheld their bright heads crowned
With song-woven aureoles,
He stood shame-faced in the throng,
For his brow of wreath was bare,
And, alas! his lordly song
Sere had grown in that sweet air;
Then, all sudden, a divine
Light fell on him from afar,
And he felt the child-song shine
On his forehead like a star.
So for ever. Each and all
Songs of passion or of mirth
That are not heart-pure shall fall
As a sky-lark’s—to the earth;
But the soul’s song has no bounds—
Like the voice of Israfel,
From the heaven of heavens it sounds
To the very hell of hell.
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Away, Away, Ye Notes Of Woe!
Away, away, ye notes of woe!
Be silent, thou once soothing strain,
Or I must flee from hence--for, oh!
I dare not trust those sounds again.
To me they speak of brighter days
But lull the chords, for now, alas!
I must not think, I may not gaze,
On what I am--on what I was.
The voice that made those sounds more sweet
Is hush'd, and all their charms are fled
And now their softest notes repeat
A dirge, an anthem o'er the dead!
Yes, Thyrza! yes, they breathe of thee,
Beloved dust! since dust thou art;
And all that once was harmony
Is worse than discord to my heart!
'Tis silent all!--but on my ear
The well remember'd echoes thrill;
I hear a voice I would not hear,
A voice that now might well be still:
Yet oft my doubting soul 'twill shake;
Even slumber owns its gentle tone,
Till consciousness will vainly wake
To listen, though the dream be flown.
Sweet Thyrza! waking as in sleep,
Thou art but now a lovely dream;
A star that trembled o'er the deep,
Then turn'd from earth its tender beam.
But he who through life's dreary way
Must pass, when heaven is veil'd in wrath,
Will long lament the vanish'd ray
That scatter'd gladness o'er his path.
December 6, 1811.
The Memory Of Burns
How sweetly come the holy psalms
From saints and martyrs down,
The waving of triumphal palms
Above the thorny crown
The choral praise, the chanted prayers
From harps by angels strung,
The hunted Cameron's mountain airs,
The hymns that Luther sung!
Yet, jarring not the heavenly notes,
The sounds of earth are heard,
As through the open minster floats
The song of breeze and bird
Not less the wonder of the sky
That daisies bloom below;
The brook sings on, though loud and high
The cloudy organs blow!
And, if the tender ear be jarred
That, haply, hears by turns
The saintly harp of Olney's bard,
The pastoral pipe of Burns,
No discord mars His perfect plan
Who gave them both a tongue;
For he who sings the love of man
The love of God hath sung!
To-day be every fault forgiven
Of him in whom we joy
We take, with thanks, the gold of Heaven
And leave the earth's alloy.
Be ours his music as of spring,
His sweetness as of flowers,
The songs the bard himself might sing
In holier ears than ours.
Sweet airs of love and home, the hum
Of household melodies,
Come singing, as the robins come
To sing in door-yard trees.
And, heart to heart, two nations lean,
No rival wreaths to twine,
But blending in eternal green
The holly and the pine!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Going Home
Going home sure sounds good, to be at home with the brotherhood.
Home with those who went before, now in the presence of The Lord.
Whether through that veil of death, when I take that very last breath,
Or at that time we upward abound, when we hear the trumpet sound.
A Christian’s death from this sod, is truly precious in the eyes of God.
As He takes you where you died, to bring you to Heaven by His side.
But the Rapture is a special hope, which gives men an eternal scope.
A hope that goes beyond this earth; a hope given to us by New Birth.
I do know that my Redeemer lives, and New Life to all men He gives.
God, who lives in Heaven up above, came to earth to show His love.
He sent His Only Son Jesus Christ, who died for all, to give men life.
Christ then returned to prepare a place, up in Heaven, by His Grace.
A place in Heaven for me and you, so where Christ is we will be too.
Christ has for us an Eternal Home, right beside His Glorious Throne.
Whether the rapture or death friend, this temporal world isn’t the end.
Our end on the earth is only a start, of the hope we have in our heart.
We’re passing by this temporal place, heading home by God’s Grace,
And we’re headed for a Mansion high, prepared for us above the sky.
My friend, home for us is in Eternity, where with God we’ll forever be,
For when we see the face of Christ, we’ll truly begin our Eternal Life.
(Copyright ©03/2006)
4 The Tears In Your Eyes (live) (feat. Wendy & Lisa)
4 the Tears in Your Eyes [Controversy Music, ASCAP - 1985]
------------------------ [From "We Are the World"]
Long ago, there was a man
Could change stone to bread
With one touch of his hand
Made the blind see
And the dumb understand
And he died 4 the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
Many people came from all around
To hear this man preach
The glorious sound
He spoke of man in harmony, and love abound
And he died 4 the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
Died 4 the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
4 the tears in your eyes, and the tears of sorrow
For 6 may be all that there were
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth (the earth)
Faith is word, we all should try
In describing a man
Who willingly died
Believe that your sorrow, hunger, and fears
Is less than the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
(your eyes) (your eyes)
Less than the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
4 the tears in your eyes, and the tears of sorrow
For 6 may be all that there were
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth (the earth)
4 the tears in your eyes, and the tears of sorrow
For 6 may be all that there were
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth (the earth
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Elixir of Life
O God, give me the Elixir of Life
To stay alive a century or more;
Thou free me forever from all my strife;
In divine love, let heart, mind and soul grow!
Poets of past years had a short life-span,
And died of disease, poverty and strife;
I wish to live long, die a holy man;
Give me on earth a spiritual Bard-life!
Could I be happy on earth and heaven?
Aware I am, Thou made me from mere clod;
Why didst Thou make me bard amidst such men?
What do I give Thee in return, O God?
Poems of mine will vindicate my love
And live for long, before I fly above!
(9-20-2000)
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love's Vision
TRANSPORTED out of self by Youth's sweet madness,
Emulous of love, to Love's empyrean height,
Where I beheld you aureoled in light,
My soul upsprang on wings of angel-gladness.
Far, far below, the earth and all earth's badness--
A speck of dust--slipped darkling into night,
As suns of fairer planets flamed in sight,
Pure orbs or bliss unstained by gloom or sadness.
Lo, as I soared etherially on high,
You vanished, from my swimming eyes aloof,
Alone, alone, within the empty sky,
I reached out giddily, and reeling fell
From starriest heaven, to plunge in lowest hell,
My proud heart broken on Earth's humblest roof.
poem by Mathilde Blind
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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See you in Heaven, promise.....
remember me Lord, when you are in the paradise
oh! a sweet words uttered at someone in the brinks
between life and death, a last word of sweeten the
flavor of death, recipes in the altar of heaven
life stop as it goes in every extreme current it flows,
ripen in the day it live, leaving the soul to be
called, now rise up and hear the sweet melody it
swings, in the ear the high decibels of harmony it
belongs, watch me rejoice my soul as it fade,
cheering the echo of the heaven as it sings, the
angels are waiting you for too long
dear mother Mary please don't leave me alone, in
the darkest night I waited you until dawn, and Father
as you see me now, my heart is wary for a little
minute I loose your hands leaving to my own as
if I can stand, my heart tremble and my body stumble
of nowhere to go, I'm at a mess, only you can be
my best
promise me that you'll see me again, in the heaven, my
beloved friend's and love one's want me to stay, in
your wonderful land your words will be done.....Promise
....I'll see you in heaven!
poem by Antonio Liao
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An Ode For St. Cecilia's Day
I.
Prepare the hallow'd strain, My Muse,
Thy softest sounds and sweetest numbrs chuse;
the bright Cecilia's praise rehearse,
In warbling words,a nd glittering verse,
that smootly run into a song,
and gently die away,and melt upon the tongue.
II.
First let the sprightly violin
The joyful melody begin,
And none of all her strings be mute,
while the sharp sound and shriller lay
In sweet harmonious notes decay,
Soften and mellow'd by the flute.
'The Flute that sweetly can complain,
'Disolve the frozen nymph's disdain;
'Panting sympathy impart,
'Till she partake of her lover's smart.'
C H O R U S.
III.
Next, let the solemn organ join
Religious airs, and strains divine,
Such as may lift us to the skies,
And set all heaven before our eyes:
'Such as may lift us to the skies;
'So far at least till they
'Descend with kind surprise.
'And meet our pious harmony half-way.'
IV.
Let then the trumpet's piersing sound
Our ravish'd ears with pleasure wound:
The Soul o'er-powering with delight,
As, with a quick uncommon ray,
A streak of lightning clears the day,
And flashes on the sight.
Let echo too perform her part,
Prolonging every note with art,
And in a low expiring strain
Play all the concert o'er again.
V.
Such were the tuneful notes that hung
On bright Cecilia's charming tongue:
Notes that sacred heats inspir'd,
and with religious ardour fir'd:
The love-sick youth, that long suppress'd
His smother'd passion in hisbreast,
No sooner heard the warbling dame,
But, by the secret influence turn'd,
He felt a new diviner flame,
And with devotion burn'd.
With ravish'd soul,a nd looks amaz'd,
Upon her beauteous face he gaz'd;
Nor made his amorous complaint:
In vain her eyes his heart had charm'd.
Her heavenly voice her eyes disarm'd,
And chang'd the lover to a saint.
G R A N D C H O R U S.
VI.
And how the choir compleat rejoices,
With trembling strings and melting voices,
The tuneful ferment rises high,
And works with mingled melody:
Quick divisions run their rounds,
A thousand trills and quivering sounds
In airy circles o'er us fly.
Till wafted by a gentle breeze,
They faint and languish by degrees,
And at a distance die.
poem by Joseph Addison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Requiem
To what bright world afar didst thou belong,
Thou whose pure soul seemed not of mortal birth?
From what fair clime of flowers and love and song,
Cam'st thou, a star beam to our shadowed earth?
What hadst thou done, sweet spirit in that sphere,
That thou wert banished here?
Here, where our blossoms early fade and die,
Where autumn frosts despoil our loveliest bowers,
Where song goes up to heaven an anguished cry
From wounded hearts, like perfume from crushed flowers;
Where Love despairing waits and weeps in vain,
His Psyche to regain.
Thou cam'st not unattended on thy way; --
Spirits of grace and beauty, joy and love,
Were with thee ever, bearing each some ray
From the far home that thou hadst left above;
And ever at thy side, upon our sight
Gleamed forth their wings of light.
We heard their voices in the gushing song
That rose like incense from thy poet heart;
We saw the footsteps of the shining throng
Glancing upon thy pathway, high apart,
Where in thy radiance thou didst walk the earth,
Thou child of glorious birth.
But the way lengthened and the song grew sad,
Breathing those tones that find no echo here;
Aspiring, soaring, but no longer glad,
Its mournful music fell upon the ear:
'Twas the home-sickness of a soul that sighs
For its own native skies.
Then he that to earth's children comes at last,
The angel-messenger, white-robed and pale,
Upon thy soul his sweet oblivion cast,
And bore thee gently through the shadowy vale,
The fleeting years of thy brief exile o'er,
Home to the blissful shore.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The eternal story
Long before time its race began
or upon earth stepped the first man.
Before planets their circuits made
or light its virgin rays displayed.
The Council of the Triune One
Father, Holy Spirit and Son.
In eternity past did plan
to come and die for sinful man.
'Who shall I send' was the great cry.
'Here I am, send me', the reply.
Then as a small babe wrapped in flesh
came the Lord our Righteousness.
Angelic host proclaimed the birth
for their Lord had come down to earth.
God confined to a human span
had come to live and walk with man.
Jesus lived and walked amongst men
sharing with us wisdom from heaven.
His sinless life men could not stand.
So they removed Him from the land.
The Saviour of the human race
hung upon the cross in disgrace
and then as He succumbed to death.
Upon that tree drew His last breath.
Where as He hung His head to die
'It is finished' came His great cry.
Then deep into the grave He went.
Where three days and three nights He spent.
Hell was not able hold its' prey.
He tore the bars of death away.
He who died came to life again
and arose from that dark domain.
A peon of praise fills the skies.
The Lord our God it magnifies.
Throughout heaven the chorus rings.
Proclaiming Jesus King of kings.
Angel hosts take up the refrain
'Holy is the Lord', they proclaim.
Then our voices join the great throng
singing God's praises all day long.
After Looking into Carlyles Reminiscences
I.
THREE MEN lived yet when this dead man was young
Whose names and words endure for ever one:
Whose eyes grew dim with straining toward the sun,
And his wings weakened, and his angel’s tongue
Lost half the sweetest song was ever sung,
But like the strain half uttered earth hears none,
Nor shall man hear till all men’s songs are done:
One whose clear spirit like an eagle hung
Between the mountains hallowed by his love
And the sky stainless as his soul above:
And one the sweetest heart that ever spake
The brightest words wherein sweet wisdom smiled.
These deathless names by this dead snake denied
Bid memory spit upon him for their sake.
II.
Sweet heart, forgive me for thine own sweet sake,
Whose kind blithe soul such seas of sorrow swam,
And for my love’s sake, powerless as I am
For love to praise thee, or like thee to make
Music of mirth where hearts less pure would break,
Less pure than thine, our life-unspotted Lamb.
Things hatefullest thou hadst not heart to damn,
Nor wouldst have set thine heel on this dead snake.
Let worms consume its memory with its tongue,
The fang that stabbed fair Truth, the lip that stung
Men’s memories uncorroded with its breath.
Forgive me, that with bitter words like his
I mix the gentlest English name that is,
The tenderest held of all that know not death.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Veils
Veils, everywhere float veils; veils long and black,
Framing white faces, oft-times young and fair,
But, like a rose touched by untimely frost,
Showing the blighting marks of sorrow's track.
Veils, veils, veils everywhere. They tell the cost
Of man-made war. They show the awful toll
Paid by the hearts of women for the crimes,
The age-old crimes by selfishness ill-named
'Justice' and 'Honour' and 'The call of Fate'-
High words men use to hide their low estate.
About the joy and beauty of this world
A long black veil is furled.
Even the face of Heaven itself seems lost
Behind a veil. It takes a fervent soul
In these tense times
To visualise a God so long defamed
By insolent lips, that send out prayers, and prate
Of God's collaboration in dark deeds,
So foul they put to shame the fiends of hell.
Yet One
does
dwell
In Secret Centres of the Universe-
The Mighty Maker; and He hears and heeds
The still small voice of soulful, selfless faith;
And He is lifting now the veil of death,
So long down-dropped between those worlds and earth.
Yea! He is giving faith a great new birth
By letting echoes from the hidden places
Where dwell our dead, fall on love's listening ear.
Hearken, and you shall hear
The messages which come from those star-spaces!
That is the reason why
God let so many die;
That the vast hordes of suffering hearts might wake
Mighty vibrations, and the silence break
Between the neighbouring worlds, and lift the veil
'Twixt life on earth, and life Beyond. All hail
To great Jehovah, Who has given life
Eternal, everlasting, after strife!
Veils, long black veils, you shall be bridal white.
Eyes, blind with tears, you shall receive your sight,
And see your dead alive in Worlds of Light.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Music of the heart
Sometimes people events simply take their toil
We tire, get angry, and our blood can boil
The world tries hard to knock it out of you
But we need to keep faith and stay true
Listen to your heart soul, feel the music within
Feel share the music and its song it does sing
When others try to drag you in that bottomless hole
Stay true to your inner music and remain whole
Follow your heart soul’s tune to keep to the path
Don’t silence your music with anger and wrath
The earths music of life constantly us surrounds
Its rhythm beat is there, stop, listen to its sounds
Listen to your souls heart’s song its always near
Drink in the earth’s music, there’s nothing to fear
Don’t let others drown your music though they try
Stay true to your song, keep your music in the sky
Can you hear my soul sing?
The sounds of my soul are a symphony,
always a lilting melody.
There's never a minor chord to interfere
with all the sweet tones that I hear.
The quiet reflections are the rests
that pause in its ongoing quest
to proceed with violin strings so sweet
to heal the pierces that I meet.
The harps and orchestral sounds
allow my soul its leaps and bounds.
And the basso profundo is your touch
which reaches my soul in a tender clutch.
The treble sounds reach out to you
as only I can give to you.
For my soul has always sung a song
and consoled my body as I moved along.
I can hear it wherever I go.
Can you hear my soul sing?
I will wish it so.
Listen my love so you can hear
the song that I am for you, my dear
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Long Song Comin
Politician 'bout to make his speech
Signal for attention, please
Then he shuffled his notes
And wiped his sweating brow
I looked at my friend next to me
And we don't dare agree
Before this is over
We'll wish we woulda left right now
'Cause it sounds like a long song comin'
And it looks like he might throw in a little dancin', too
Yes, it sounds like a long song comin'
And buddy, listen buddy
We got better things to listen to
Lady from a church bizarre
Was smiling from her head to her feet
All the way down to her feet
That she couldn't see
She started speeking her piece
I said "Stop, Wait a minute, please
Before you start talkin'
I wish you'd please listen to me."
'Cause it sounds like a long song comin'
And though some of the things you say might be true
It still sounds like a long song comin'
And baby, listen lady, I got better things to listen to
Yes, it sounds like a long song comin'
And it looks like you might throw in a little dancin', too
Yes, it sounds like a long song comin'
And buddy, listen buddy, I got better things to listen to
Say, so it sounds like a long song comin'
And it sounds like some just might be true
Still it sounds like a long song comin'
And buddy, listen buddy, I got better things to listen to
And buddy, listen buddy, we got better things to listen to
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As long as its music
Please play me a symphony
Make a simple cheerful harmony
Please play me a chord from a guitar
For me, it does not matter
If I’m the only audience of your theatre
Give me some instrumental vibes
All rhythms and tunes are musically ripe
There is no need to take precaution
While playing the Banjo or flamenco percussion
As long as its music
We can all heal
As long as its music
We can all feel
We can sing out our hearts and soul
We can let this music take control
Please play me the drums
We can sing or we can hum
Please play me a CD or a hit record
We could sing to the tunes of an ipod
With the sounds of music we can compose a song
Maybe sing to the town’s bells chiming ding-dong
Please play me the sweet keys of a piano
Hit a sweet note that is a major or minor
As long as its music
We can all heal or cry
As long as its music
We can all feel or fly high
And I will be lost in your voice and eyes
Holding on to each minute that flies
Whatever sounds or instruments
I shall feel good in the moment
Please play me a note from a flute
Those peaceful sounds tend to soothe
I want to hear sweet, sweet music
Choose your lyrics, take your pick
My heart will dance, till she is weak
Get out that guitar, acoustic or electric
Please play me the violins of an orchestra night
String me some melodies in broad daylight
And we can rap to melodious sense or crap
While our feet’s playfully tap, tap and tap
As long as its music
We can dance along the shore
As long as its music
We can all take to the dance floor
And I say once more, once more!
As long as its music, I will only ask for more
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Ribblesdale
Earth, sweet Earth, sweet landscape, with leavés throng
And louchéd low grass, heaven that dost appeal
To, with no tongue to plead, no heart to feel;
That canst but only be, but dost that long—
Thou canst but be, but that thou well dost; strong
Thy plea with him who dealt, nay does now deal,
Thy lovely dale down thus and thus bids reel
Thy river, and o’er gives all to rack or wrong.
And what is Earth’s eye, tongue, or heart else, where
Else, but in dear and dogged man?—Ah, the heir
To his own selfbent so bound, so tied to his turn,
To thriftless reave both our rich round world bare
And none reck of world after, this bids wear
Earth brows of such care, care and dear concern.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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4 The Tears In Your Eyes
Long ago, there was a man
Change stone 2 bread with the touch of his hand
Made the blind see and the dumb understand
He died 4 the tears in your eyes
Your eyes
Many people came from all around
Hear this man preach, glorious sound
Spoke of man in harmony and love abound
He died 4 the tears in your eyes
Your eyes
Your eyes
Your...eye...
Died 4 the tears in your eyes
4 the tears in your eyes
And the tears of sorrow
4 cents may be all that theyre worth
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth
The earth
Faith is a word, we all should try
Describing the man who willingly died
Believe that your hunger, sorrow, and fears
Is less than the tears in your eyes
Your eyes
Less than the tears in your eyes
4 the tears in your eyes
And the tears of sorrow
4 cents may be all that theyre worth (all theyre worth)
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth
Say it again...
4 the tears in your eyes
And the tears of sorrow
4 cents may be all that theyre worth (all theyre worth)
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth
The earth
Thank you
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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