Related quotes: These walls were built by...

Woodspring Abbey

These walls were built by men who did a deed
Of blood:--terrific conscience, day by day,
Followed, where'er their shadow seemed to stay,
And still in thought they saw their victim bleed,
Before God's altar shrieking: pangs succeed,
As dire upon their heart the deep sin lay,
No tears of agony could wash away:
Hence! to the land's remotest limit, speed!
These walls are raised in vain, as vainly flows
Contrition's tear: Earth, hide them, and thou, Sea,
Which round the lone isle, where their bones repose,
Dost sound for ever, their sad requiem be,
In fancy's ear, at pensive evening's close,
Still murmuring MISERERE, DOMINE.

poem by William Lisle Bowles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Related quotes

Walls

Walls of stone and walls of brick,
Some walls thin and some walls thick,
Walls so high and walls so low,
Walls to hide and walls to show.

Walls quite short and walls quite tall,
Some walls, last well, some walls fall,
Walls for comfort, walls of hate,
Walls for security, walls ornate.

Some as a barricade, some to support,
Walls of wood and walls of iron wrought,
Walls as a barrier, walls to enclose,
Some are to sit on, some to lean and doze.

Walls we build ourselves, these aren't good,
Walls for privacy, walls that have stood,
So many years through weather foul or fine,
Walls, that are yours, walls that are mine.

Brick by brick they are built to last,
Whether built now or in the past,
They shelter us from so many things,
And shield us from whatever this life brings.

poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Walls of My Heart

Within the walls of my heart,
I can hold you close...
I can hold you to me...
Where you belong,
Safe in the walls of my heart.

Within the walls of my heart,
I can see your happy smile,
Keeping me warm and alive...
Your smile is forever mine,
Safe in the walls of my heart.

Within the walls of my heart,
I can hear you whisper my name,
While I lie so still in your arms...
Listening to the gentle sounds of your breathing,
Safe in the walls of my heart.

Within the walls of my heart,
I can taste your kiss,
The sweetest wine I ever tasted
Like the most precious memory ever,
Safe in the walls of my heart.

Within the walls of my heart,
You will never leave....
You will stay here beside me forever,
Holding me close forevermore,
Safe in the walls of my heart.

poem by Lesa MRK
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

To Mary

If I had thought thou couldst have died,
I might not weep for thee;
But I forgot, when by thy side,
That thou couldst mortal be:
It never through my mind had past
The time would e'er be o'er,
And I on thee should look my last,
And thou shouldst smile no more!

And still upon that face I look,
And think 'twill smile again;
And still the thought I will not brook,
That I must look in vain.
But when I speak—thou dost not say
What thou ne'er left'st unsaid;
And now I feel, as well I may,
Sweet Mary, thou art dead!

If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art,
All cold and all serene—
I still might press thy silent heart,
And where thy smiles have been.
While e'en thy chill, bleak corse I have,
Thou seemest still mine own;
But there—I lay thee in thy grave,
And I am now alone!

I do not think, where'er thou art,
Thou hast forgotten me;
And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart
In thinking too of thee:
Yet there was round thee such a dawn
Of light ne'er seen before,
As fancy never could have drawn,
And never can restore!

poem by Charles Wolfe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

When The Walls Came Tumbling Down

On the first day of the first month in some distant year
The whole sky froze golden
Some said it was the aftermath of the radium bomb
While others told of a final retribution
A terrible revenge of the gods

But we understood the grand finale
Fulfillment of a prophecy told many years before
So all that was left was...

All the women were captured and chained
And national suicide was proclaimed
And New America fell to the ground
And all the children lay crippled and lame
But all the nations came together
In fear of the thought of the end
No more would we fight in the streets
No courage had we to defend

When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
Everybody ran as they screamed at the sound
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
Everybody ran as they screamed at the sound

A blinding light the sun had died
A new moon took its place
Tidal waves and open graves the fate of the unhuman race
The city's heart no longer beats no pity have I left to lend
A sinner sits reciting Dylan it's now that I welcome the end

When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
Everybody ran as they screamed at the sound
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
Everybody ran as they screamed at the sound

song performed by by Def Leppard from On Through The Night
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

An Epitaph on the Admirable Dramatic Poet W. Shakespeare

What needs my Shakespeare for his honored bones
The labor of an age in piled stones?
Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid
Under a star-ypointing pyramid?
Dear son of Memory, great heir of Fame,
What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name?
Thou in our wonder and astonishment
Hast built thy self a livelong monument.
For whilst, to th' shame of slow-endeavoring art,
Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took,
Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving,
Dost make us marble with too much conceiving,
And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

poem by John Milton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

March Of The Monks Of Bangor

When the heathen trumpet's clang
Round beleaguer'd Chester rang,
Veiled nun and friar grey
March'd from Bangor's fair Abbaye;
High their holy anthem sounds,
Cestria's vale the hymn rebounds,
Floating down the silvan Dee,
O miserere, Domine!

On the long procession goes,
Glory round their crosses glows,
And the Virgin-mother mild
In their peaceful banner smiled;
Who could think such saintly band
Doom'd to feel unhallow'd hand?
Such was the Divine decree,
O miserere, Domine!

Bands that masses only sung,
Hands that censers only swung,
Met the northern bow and bill,
Heard the war-cry wild and shrill:
Woe to Brockmael's feeble hand
Woe to Olfrid's bloody brand,
Woe to Saxon cruelty,
O miserere, Domine!

Weltering amid warriors slain,
Spurn'd by steeds with bloody mane,
Slaughter'd down by heathen blade,
Bangor's peaceful monks are laid:
Word of parting rest unspoke,
Mass unsung, and bread unbroke;
For their souls for charity,
O miserere, Domine!

Bangor! o'er the murder wail!
Long thy ruins told the tale,
Shatter'd towers and broken arch
Long recall'd the woeful march:
On thy shrine no tapers burn,
Never shall thy priests return;
The pilgrim sighs and sings for thee,
O miserere, Domine!

poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

From ‘The Soul’s Travelling’

God, God!
With a child’s voice I cry,
Weak, sad, confidingly—
God, God!
Thou knowest, eyelids, raised not always up
Unto Thy love (as none of ours are), droop
As ours, o’er many a tear!
Thou knowest, though Thy universe is broad,
Two little tears suffice to cover all:
Thou knowest, Thou, who art so prodigal
Of beauty, we are oft but stricken deer
Expiring in the woods—that care for none
Of those delightsome flowers they die upon.

O blissful Mouth which breathed the mournful breath
We name our souls, self-spoilt!—by that strong passion
Which paled Thee once with sighs,—by that strong death
Which made Thee once unbreathing—from the wrack
Themselves have called around them, call them back,
Back to Thee in continuous aspiration!
For here, O Lord,
For here they travel vainly,—vainly pass
From city-pavement to untrodden sward,
Where the lark finds her deep nest in the grass
Cold with the earth’s last dew. Yea, very vain
The greatest speed of all these souls of men
Unless they travel upward to the throne
Where sittest THOU, the satisfying ONE,
With help for sins and holy perfectings
For all requirements—while the archangel, raising
Unto Thy face his full ecstatic gazing,
Forgets the rush and rapture of his wings.

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Out Of Mind Travels

If one chooses to venture into the woods,
Without a guide and alone.
Because of pride one hides,
Without admitting a fear felt inside,
Condoned on one's own.
That choice to be made,
Is theirs alone.

And yet,
With a foolishness decides to continue...
By pushing concerned voices aside!
The experience of this,
Will either make one quickly grow.
Or quicken the end...
Of a stubborn mind that goes...bye bye.
Never to be comprehended or understood!
With a communication seen done publicly...
But,
With self throughout one's neighborhood.

Some people observed seem to enjoy,
These out of mind travels by themselves.
And stuck,
In a rut with the walls built up!
In a twilight zone to stay.

And stuck,
In a rut with the walls built up!
In a twilight zone to stay.

In a twilight zone to stay.
In a rut with the walls built up!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

On Shakespeare

What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones,
The labor of an age in pilèd stones,
Or that his hallowed relics should be hid
Under a star-ypointing pyramid?
Dear son of Memory, great heir of fame,
What need’st thou such weak witness of thy name?
Thou in our wonder and astonishment
Hast built thyself a live-long monument.
For whilst to th’ shame of slow-endeavouring art,
Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took,
Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving,
Dost make us marble with too much conceiving;
And so sepúlchred in such pomp dost lie,
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

poem by John Milton (1630)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Spanish | In Romanian

On Shakespear

What needs my Shakespear for his honour'd Bones,
The labour of an age in piled Stones,
Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid
Under a Star-ypointing Pyramid?
Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame,
What need'st thou such weak witnes of thy name?
Thou in our wonder and astonishment
Hast built thy self a live-long Monument.
For whilst toth' shame of slow-endeavouring art,
Thy easie numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the leaves of thy unvalu'd Book,
Those Delphick lines with deep impression took
Then thou our fancy of it self bereaving,
Dost make us Marble with too much conceaving;
And so Sepulcher'd in such pomp dost lie,
That Kings for such a Tomb would wish to die.

poem by John Milton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Dark

What will I do with a fountain
of time
my silence
is a well without a dropp of water
I can weep in the dark
weep and its silence will hear me
but it will close its eyes
it will not speak
the evening will tread on
quietly an old man
it will walk on without looking back
without seeing where its shadow
sleeps
and I can say wait where
are you going
and I can think of all the places I can think of
I can think of walls walls walls
of walls behind which anything lurks
I can lock myself
in a closet full of clothes not my size
fill my pockets with dust
or take off my clothes and imagine
my skin is ice
and I will be standing here
where I am standing stepping on moments
that sharpen into hours like thorns
into my feet
the wound in my heart is deep
the pain does not answer to any name
where is the door
the window the door

*reprinted from a friend

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

I Shade

By blood, in the night -
My blood to my veins -
To blood i am drawn -
I am never alone -
Not even when I am throne to my bones -
Againt the walls -
With lights at flicker -
She claws the walls -
My shadow -
I can hear her -
My shade -
To my side -
I feel her -
I will confide -
I need her -
I am broken -
Without her -
I seek her -
Long was the wait -
What breaks her -
Is the light of dawn -
Helpless -
I can heal her

poem by Unic Cjonr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Teardrops Will Fall

I read your letter, darlin'
Tears filled my eyes
All of the promises you made were nothing but lies
So I turned your photograph around face to the wall
And when I dim the lights in my room tonight
Teardrops will fall
Teardrops will fall tonight
Tears I can't hide
Tears that I'd rather keep
Deep down inside
Tears fall
And love is gone beyond these walls
And when I dim the lights in my room tonight
Teardrops will fall
I'm gonna pray tonight, baby
Hopin' you will hear
And maybe you'll write all those wrongs
And dry each tear
I sit alone tonight
Hopin' you will call
And when I dim the lights in my room tonight
Teardrops will fall
Teardrops will fall tonight
Tears I can't hide
Tears that I'd rather keep
Deep down inside
Tears fall
And love is gone beyond these walls
And when I dim the lights in my room tonight
Teardrops will fall
Teardrops will fall tonight
Tears I can't hide
Tears that I'd rather keep
Deep down inside
Tears fall
And love is gone beyond these walls
And when I dim the lights in my room tonight
When I dim the lights in my room tonight
Teardrops will fall

song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Ode to the Nightingale

SWEET BIRD OF SORROW! why complain
In such soft melody of Song,
That ECHO, am'rous of thy Strain,
The ling'ring cadence doth prolong?
Ah! tell me, tell me, why,
Thy dulcet Notes ascend the sky.
Or on the filmy vapours glide
Along the misty moutain's side?
And wherefore dost Thou love to dwell,
In the dark wood and moss-grown cell,
Beside the willow-margin'd stream
Why dost Thou court wan Cynthia's beam?
Sweet Songstressif thy wayward fate
Hath robb'd Thee of thy bosom's mate,
Oh, think not thy heart-piercing moan
Evap'rates on the breezy air,
Or that the plaintive Song of Care
Steals from THY Widow'd Breast alone.
Oft have I heard thy mournful Tale,
On the high Cliff, that o'er the Vale
Hangs its dark brow, whose awful shade
Spreads a deep gloom along the glade:
Led by its sound, I've wander'd far,
Till crimson evening's flaming Star
On Heav'n's vast dome refulgent hung,
And round ethereal vapours flung;
And oft I've sought th'HYGEIAN MAID,
In rosy dimply smiles array'd,
Till forc'd with every HOPE to part,
Resistless Pain subdued my Heart.

Oh then, far o'er the restless deep
Forlorn my poignant pangs I bore,
Alone in foreign realms to weep,
Where ENVY's voice could taunt no more.
I hop'd, by mingling with the gay,
To snatch the veil of Grief away;
To break Affliction's pond'rous chain;
VAIN was the Hopein vain I sought
The placid hour of careless thought,
Where Fashion wing'd her light career,
And sportive Pleasure danc'd along,
Oft have I shunn'd the blithsome throng,
To hide th'involuntary tear,
For e'en where rapt'rous transports glow,
From the full Heart the conscious tear will flow,
When to my downy couch remov'd,
FANCY recall'd my wearied mind
To scenes of FRIENDSHIP left behind,
Scenes still regretted, still belov'd!
Ah, then I felt the pangs of Grief,
Grasp my warm Heart, and mock relief;
My burning lids Sleep's balm defied,
And on my fev'rish lip imperfect murmurs died.

Restless and sadI sought once more
A calm retreat on BRITAIN's shore;
Deceitful HOPE, e'en there I found
That soothing FRIENDSHIP's specious name
Was but a short-liv'd empty sound,
And LOVE a false delusive flame.

Then come, Sweet BIRD, and with thy strain,
Steal from my breast the thorn of pain;
Blest solace of my lonely hours,
In craggy caves and silent bow'rs,
When HAPPY Mortals seek repose,
By Night's pale lamp we'll chaunt our woes,
And, as her chilling tears diffuse
O'er the white thorn their silv'ry dews,
I'll with the lucid boughts entwine
A weeping Wreath, which round my Head
Shall by the waning Cresent shine,
And light us to our leafy bed,
But ah! nor leafy beds nor bow'rs
Fring'd with soft MAY's enamell'd flow'rs,
Nor pearly leaves, nor Cynthia's beams,
Nor smiling Pleasure's shad'wy dreams,
Sweet BIRD, not e'en THY melting Strains
Can calm the Heart, where TYRANT SORROW REIGNS.

poem by Mary Darby Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

My Shadow In Vain

Stroll to the cafe
My God how time flies
I close up my brain
And another friend dies
I feel like a mirror
Feel like nothing is mine
I could go back to crying
But now dying seems fine
So I hang from the ceiling
Or I sit on the air
Or rot in a corner
Until somebody cares
Faces at random
I quote people I knew
Id love to be like me
If I could feel like you
Here am i, more roche five than pain
Here am i, just me and my walls to blame
Here am i, I really dont feel quite sane
Here am i, still searching for my shadow in vain
Lock my door I only think in black and white
Ill even try to look ashamed
Moving out of central
Somebody knows me well
Says hell spill the whole story
He may be lying I cant tell
Meet me inside
Ill keep my head to the floor
And one hand on the handle
Of the mad/sane door
Here am i, more roche five than pain
Here am i, just me and my walls to blame
Here am i, I really dont feel quite sane
Here am i, still searching for my shadow in vain
Lock my door I only think in black and white
Ill even try to look ashamed
My shadow in vain
My shadow in vain
My shadow in vain
My shadow in vain
My shadow in vain...

song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Walls

Everyone around me
Looked equally strange
Some laughed
Some cried
Some remained indifferent
To me everyone
Is the same—
Strangers! .
Each built around me
A wall of one’s choice
Love indifference shame

I grew up
I sat
I slept
I played
I moved
All within those walls
Destiny went on
Gnawing at me
I grew up
I raved to look
Beyond those walls
In vain!

How these walls
Built silently
Without brick or cement
Shut me to myself!

poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Sonnet 44: If the dull substance of my flesh were thought

If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,
Injurious distance should not stop my way;
For then despite of space I would be brought,
From limits far remote, where thou dost stay.
No matter then although my foot did stand
Upon the farthest earth removed from thee;
For nimble thought can jump both sea and land
As soon as think the place where he would be.
But, ah, thought kills me that I am not thought,
To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,
But that, so much of earth and water wrought,
I must attend time's leisure with my moan,
Receiving nought by elements so slow,
But heavy tears, badges of either's woe.

poem by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Time and Grief

O TIME! who know'st a lenient hand to lay
Softest on sorrow's wound, and slowly thence
(Lulling to sad repose the weary sense)
The faint pang stealest unperceived away;
On thee I rest my only hope at last,
And think, when thou hast dried the bitter tear
That flows in vain o'er all my soul held dear,
I may look back on every sorrow past,
And meet life's peaceful evening with a smile:
As some lone bird, at day's departing hour,
Sings in the sunbeam, of the transient shower
Forgetful, though its wings are wet the while:—
Yet ah! how much must this poor heart endure,
Which hopes from thee, and thee alone, a cure!

poem by William Lisle Bowles
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!

Refuge Sought

Tears. There are no tears.
To cool flushed cheeks.
Sate flaming eyes boiling
soft mist vapoured life.
Saline tears salted bitter life-giving sea.

Tears. Victim can never cry
to release choked emotion.
Shall never fall as spring rain.
Tainted only tears record shall show.
Are tears of dark black blood.

Tears. That will only flow
from shattered mirror’s edge.
Across wrists laid bare to touch
slashed cross pulsating vein’s life.
To darken tiled bathroom floor.

Agony’s scream no longer heard
walls mute stand unmoved.
Time drips seeps sluggish torpid
deadening sound within deaf ears.
Agony’s scream heavenward heard?

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Stanzas to the Po

River, that rollest by the ancient walls,
Where dwells the lady of my love, when she
Walks by thy brink, and there perchance recalls
A faint and fleeting memory of me;

What if thy deep and ample stream should be
A mirror of my heart, where she may read
The thousand thoughts I now betray to thee,
Wild as thy wave, and headlong as thy speed!

What do I say -a mirror of my heart?
Are not thy waters sweeping, dark, and strong?
Such as my feelings were and are, thou art;
And such as thou art were my passions long.

Time may have somewhat tamed them, -not for ever;
Thou overflow'st thy banks, and not for aye
The bosom overboils, congenial river!
Thy floods subside, and mine have sunk away.

But left long wrecks behind, and now again,
Born in our old unchanged career, we move;
Thou tendest wildly onwards to the main,
And I -to loving one I should not love.

The current I behold will sweep beneath
Her native walls and murmur at her feet;
Her eyes will look on thee, when she shall breathe
The twilight air, unharmed by summer's heat.

She will look on thee, -I have looked on thee,
Full of that thought; and, from that moment, ne'er
Thy waters could I dream of, name, or see,
Without the inseparable sigh for her!

Her bright eyes will be imaged in thy stream, -
Yes! they will meet the wave I gaze on now:
Mine cannot witness, even in a dream,
That happy wave repass me in its flow!

The wave that bears my tears returns no more:
Will she return by whom that wave shall sweep?
Both tread thy banks, both wander on thy shore,
I by thy source, she by the dark-blue deep.

But that which keepeth us apart is not
Distance, nor depth of wave, nor space of earth,
But the distraction of a various lot,
As various as the climates of our birth.

A stranger loves the lady of the land,
Born far beyond the mountains, but his blood
Is all meridian, as if never fanned
By the black wind that chills the polar flood.

My blood is all meridian; were it not,
I had not left my clime, nor should I be,
In spite of tortures, ne'er to be forgot,
A slave again of love, -at least of thee.

'Tis vain to struggle -let me perish young -
Live as I lived, and love as I have loved;
To dust if I return, from dust I sprung,
And then, at least, my heart can ne'er be moved.

poem by Byron (1819)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!

En.Citatepedia®.ro