Inscriptions For A Seat In The Groves Of Coleorton
BENEATH yon eastern ridge, the craggy bound,
Rugged and high, of Charnwood's forest ground
Stand yet, but, Stranger! hidden from thy view,
The ivied Ruins of forlorn GRACE DIEU;
Erst a religious House, which day and night
With hymns resounded, and the chanted rite:
And when those rites had ceased, the Spot gave birth
To honourable Men of various worth:
There, on the margin of a streamlet wild,
Did Francis Beaumont sport, an eager child;
There, under shadow of the neighbouring rocks,
Sang youthful tales of shepherds and their flocks;
Unconscious prelude to heroic themes,
Heart-breaking tears, and melancholy dreams
Of slighted love, and scorn, and jealous rage,
With which his genius shook the buskined stage.
Communities are lost, and Empires die,
And things of holy use unhallowed lie;
They perish;--but the Intellect can raise,
From airy words alone, a Pile that ne'er decays.
poem by William Wordsworth
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Trehill Well
There stood a low and ivied roof,
As gazing rustics tell,
In times of chivalry and song
'Yclept the holy well.
Above the ivies' branchlets gray
In glistening clusters shone;
While round the base the grass-blades bright
And spiry foxglove sprung.
The brambles clung in graceful bands,
Chequering the old gray stone
With shining leaflets, whose bright face
In autumn's tinting shone.
Around the fountain's eastern base
A babbling brooklet sped,
With sleepy murmur purling soft
Adown its gravelly bed.
Within the cell the filmy ferns
To woo the clear wave bent;
And cushioned mosses to the stone
Their quaint embroidery lent.
The fountain's face lay still as glass-
Save where the streamlet free
Across the basin's gnarled lip
Flowed ever silently.
Above the well a little nook
Once held, as rustics tell,
All garland-decked, an image of
The Lady of the Well.
They tell of tales of mystery,
Of darkling deeds of woe;
But no! such doings might not brook
The holy streamlet's flow.
Oh tell me not of bitter thoughts,
Of melancholy dreams,
By that fair fount whose sunny wall
Basks in the western beams.
When last I saw that little stream,
A form of light there stood,
That seemed like a precious gem,
Beneath that archway rude:
And as I gazed with love and awe
Upon that sylph-like thing,
Methought that airy form must be
The fairy of the spring.
Helston, 1835.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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To my Dear Friend M. Ben Jonson, on his Fox
If it might stand with justice to allow
The swift conversion of all follies; now,
Such is my mercy, that I could admit
All sorts should equally approve the wit
Of this thy even work, whose growing fame
Shall raise thee high, and thou it, with thy name.
And did not manners and my love command
Me to forbear to make those understand,
Whom thou, perhaps, hast in thy wiser doom
Long since firmly resolved, shall never come
To know more than they do; I would have shewn
To all the world, the art, which thou alone
Hast taught our tongue, the rules of time, of place,
And other rites, delivered, with the grace
Of comic style, which, only, is far more
Than any English stage hath known before.
But, since our subtle gallants think it good
To like of nought, that may be understood,
Lest they should he disproved; or have, at best,
Stomachs so raw, that nothing can digest
But what's obscene, or barks: let us desire
They may continue, simply, to admire
Fine clothes, and strange words; and may live, in age,
To see themselves ill brought upon the stage,
And like it: whilst thy bold and knowing muse
Contemns all praise, but such as thou wouldst choose.
poem by Francis Beaumont
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What The Chimney Sang
Over the chimney the night-wind sang
And chanted a melody no one knew;
And the Woman stopped, as her babe she tossed,
And thought of the one she had long since lost,
And said, as her teardrops back she forced,
'I hate the wind in the chimney.'
Over the chimney the night-wind sang
And chanted a melody no one knew;
And the Children said, as they closer drew,
'`Tis some witch that is cleaving the black night through,
`Tis a fairy trumpet that just then blew,
And we fear the wind in the chimney.'
Over the chimney the night-wind sang
And chanted a melody no one knew;
And the Man, as he sat on his hearth below,
Said to himself, 'It will surely snow,
And fuel is dear and wages low,
And I`ll stop the leak in the chimney.'
Over the chimney the night-wind sang
And chanted a melody no one knew;
But the Poet listened and smiled, for he
Was Man and Woman and Child, all three,
And said, 'It is God`s own harmony,
This wind we hear in the chimney.'
poem by Francis Bret Harte
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Sonnet IX: Ye, Who in Alleys Green
Ye, who in alleys green and leafy bow'rs,
Sport, the rude children of fantastic birth;
Where frolic nymphs, and shaggy tribes of mirth,
In clam'rous revels waste the midnight hours;
Who, link'd in flaunting bands of mountain flow'rs,
Weave your wild mazes o'er the dewy earth,
Ere the fierce Lord of Lustre rushes forth,
And o'er the world his beamy radiance pours!
Oft has your clanking cymbal's madd'ning strain,
Loud ringing through the torch-illumin'd grove,
Lur'd my lov'd Phaon from the youthful train,
Through rugged dells, o'er craggy rocks to rove;
Then how can she his vagrant heart detain,
Whose Lyre throbs only to the touch of Love!
poem by Mary Darby Robinson
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Immersion! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
The day the thoughts dashed the ground,
Rowing ambitions produced no sound.
Where emotions paralysed
Only tears but had dried.
Everything had come to an end,
The tragedy could not be mend.
Lost! lost! lost!
Everything is lost!
Nothing more left,
With my unfortunate pathetic fate.
I have lost my child,
In the mouth of the ancient wild
I have lost my parents
The sky above forlorn and the ground snatched
I have lost my life's partner
Who loved, understood and compromised and was my supporter.
Seeping wounds of darkness dawned at the rise of the day,
Where in agony, anguish, misery and melancholy they lay.
Never will they come back.
From the path they had come, they have gone back.
None can wipe their everlasting tears
None can bring them solace from tears.
poem by Green Peace
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Jealous Lover
To all of those who had their doubts
Now those doubts... I forgive them
To everyone whos led one life
Then love life... its humble rhythm
To all of those who harbour dreams
All you get... is what youre given
Meanwhile the maximum... maximum goes down
Right from the start
I knew youd break my heart
Jealous lover... jealous lover
Rope tied and bound
I been lost and found
Jealous lover... jealous lover
Jealous of my loving
Jealous of my leaving...jealous
Jealous of my living
Jealous of my breathing
Jealous lover... jealous lover
If all they say and do were true
Just like you... Id be with em
But lies survive... and cut right through
While the truth... remains forbidden
For every single point of view
Then theres two... that must be hidden
Meantime the maximum... maximum goes down
Right from the start
I knew youd break my heart
Jealous lover... jealous lover
Rope tied and bound
I been lost and found
Jealous lover... jealous lover
Jealous of my loving
Jealous of my leaving...jealous
Jealous of my living
Jealous of my breathing
Jealous lover... theres no other
Meantime - the maximum... maximum
Nothing more and nothing less
Grip tight - the maximum... the maximum
You say no... I say yes
Dont be... dont be... dont be
Jealous lover - jealous lover
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fairy Sketch
SCENE--NETLEY ABBEY.
There was a morrice on the moonlight plain,
And music echoed in the woody glade,
For fay-like forms, as of Titania's train,
Upon a summer eve, beneath the shade
Of Netley's ivied ruins, to the sound
Of sprightly minstrelsy did beat the ground:--
Come, take hands! and lightly move,
While our boat, in yonder cove,
Rests upon the darkening sea;
Come, take hands, and follow me!
Netley! thy dim and desolated fane
Hath heard, perhaps, the spirits of the night
Shrieking, at times, amid the wind and rain;
Or haply, when the full-orbed moon shone bright,
Thy glimmering aisles have echoed to the song
Of fairy Mab, who led her shadowy masque along.
Now, as to the sprightly sound
Of moonlight minstrelsy we beat the ground;
From the pale nooks, in accent clear,
Now, methinks, her voice I hear,
Sounding o'er the darksome sea;
Come, take hands, and follow me!
Here, beneath the solemn wood,
When faintly-blue is all the sky,
And the moon is still on high,
To the murmurs of the flood,
To the glimpses of the night,
We perform our airy rite;--
Care and pain to us unknown,
To the darkening seas are flown.
Hear no more life's fretful noise,
Heed not here pale Envy's sting,
Far from life's distempered joys;
To the waters murmuring,
To the shadows of the sky,
To the moon that rides on high,
To the glimpses of the night,
We perform our airy rite,
While care and pain, to us unknown,
To the darkening seas are flown.
poem by William Lisle Bowles
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song - The Lost Road
We stood together on the seven five
Backs to the fields and eyes wide to the light
My thumb hitched high to the random unknown
I didn’t know where and wouldn’t be shown
We’d learn soon enough we couldn’t go home
We sailed straight into yon white water thrill
Down where the furious waves rose and fell
With no going back, and no turning around
We didn’t know if we’d make it or drown
Or if something worse might soon bring us down
(chorus)
When you were the fire, you were the light
And I was a shadow stealing the night
You were the av’rage and I was the pass
I had momentum and you had the class
Out of the seeds of a circular street
I stood on illusion, you stood on your feet
Across the table we sat with our kind
Breaking the bread with our hands full of time
And gulping down the holy water of self
Too eager like chicks we leapt and we fell
From high window dreams down to the cold earth
I stand alone here o’er this city night
But somehow see only your village light
Off in the far distance beside the lost road
Down by the old Beech tree under the crows
Beneath the moon’s light where we used to stroll.
(chorus)
When you were the fire, you were the light
And I was a shadow stealing the night
You were the av’rage and I was the pass
I had momentum and you had the class
Out of the seeds of a circular street
I stood on illusion, you stood on your feet
The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers
The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods, against a stormy sky,
Their giant branches tost;
And the heavy night hung dark
The hills and water o'er,
When a band of exiles moored their bark
On the wild New England shore.
Not as the conqueror comes,
They, the true-hearted, came;
Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame;
Not as the flying come,
In silence and in fear, -
They shook the depths of the desert's gloom
With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Amidst the storm they sang,
And the stars heard and the sea;
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang
To the anthem of the free.
The ocean-eagle soared
From his nest by the white wave's foam,
And the rocking pines of the forest roared -
This was their welcome home!
There were men with hoary hair
Amidst that pilgrim band:
Why had they come to wither there,
Away from their childhood's land?
There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.
What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?
The wealth of the seas? the spoils of war? -
They sought a faith's pure shrine!
Ay, call it holy ground,
The soil where first they trod!
They have left unstained what there they found -
Freedom to worship God!
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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The Pilgrim Fathers
The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky
Their giant branches tossed;
And the heavy night hung dark,
The hills and waters o'er,
When a band of exiles moored their bark
On the wild New England shore.
Not as the conqueror comes,
They, the true-hearted came;
Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame;
Not as the flying come,
In silence and in fear;
They shook the depths of the desert gloom
With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Amidst the storm they sang,
And the stars heard, and the sea;
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang
To the anthem of the free.
The ocean eagle soared
From his nest by the white wave's foam;
And the rocking pines of the forest roared-
This was their welcome home.
There were men with hoary hair
Amidst the pilgrim band:
Why had they come to wither there,
Away from their childhood's land?
There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow, serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.
What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
They sought a faith's pure shrine!
Ay, call it holy ground,
The soil where first they trod;
They have left unstained what there they found -
Freedom to worship God.
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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My Cottage Home
1.
My home, my home, my cottage home,
Thou fair and lovely spot,
How sad and lonely is my soul,
When I can view thee not;
The vines may blossom in my path,
And flowers I most adore,
But what are all their charm to me,
If not beside my door.
2.
Home is a name ne'er forget,
Like other names of earth;
We never grow old to love
The spot that gave us birth;
And when in dreams of faded years;
Of all our youthful pride,
How sweet to dwell beneath the roof,
Where our dear parents died.
3.
My home, my home, my cottage home,
I'll love thee evermore,
And evry heart that greets me when
I reach thy humble door;
And though my mother's smile be gone;
My mother's watchful care,
I love to dwell beneath the roof,
For home was always there.
poem by Septimus Winner
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Silent Night (feat. Cormac Breatnach & Martin Dunlea)
Silent night, holy night!
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child.
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Silent night, holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight.
Glories stream from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia,
Christ the Savior is born!
Christ the Savior is born.
Silent night, holy night!
Silent night, holy night!
Son of God love's pure light.
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus Lord, at Thy birth.
Jesus Lord, at Thy birth.
Silent night, holy night!
Silent night, holy night!
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heart Broken
You wish upon a star
Your a child left behind
You fall in love with everyone
you break your heart without a doubt
Crying sorrow and letting fly
Upon a star you leave it all
You wish for better every night
You wish for love to come all night
Were made believe that its all fine
Were made believe about true love
child child hear me out
Your all grown up and stand up right
Child Child listen right
Your lost in mind your never right
Fairy tales and love is wrong
Stars upon the skys are all but tales
Child act your age and learn this right
Love is fake and crazy tales
poem by Kimberly Picazo
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Problem Child
I am a problem child
Ive been wild all my days
All my anger and my rage
My senses said it would lead me astray
I said go go go
Raise your hands
Raise your hands high
Dont take a seat
Dont stand aside this time
Dont assume anything
But go go go
Five generations running fast
These things will not pass
This debtors blood runs in my veins
I cant change anything
I said no no no
Raise your hands
Raise your hands high
Dont take a seat
Dont stand aside this time
Dont assume anything
But go go go
So youve learned to cry
But you dont know why
So youve learned to laugh
What are we laughing at
So I am a problem child
Ive been wild all my days
All my anger and my rage
My senses said it would lead me astray
And I said go go go
Go go
Raise your hands
Raise your hands high
Dont take a seat
Dont stand aside this time
Dont assume anything this time
Dont assume anything
I said go go go
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silent Night
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child.
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Silent night, holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight.
Glories stream from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia,
Christ the Savior is born!
Christ the Savior is born.
Silent night, holy night!
Silent night, holy night!
Son of God love's pure light.
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus Lord, at Thy birth.
Jesus Lord, at Thy birth.
Silent night, holy night!
Silent night, holy night!
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dreams Of Our Fathers
Oh, Im choking, Im choking
On the smoke from this burning house
I claw and I scrape
But I cant seem to get out
But who then, who is this
Thats scratching from the ground
Oh, its my world, too
But whose gold is this Im digging out?
When we go, where we go
When were dead
Is the verdict still out?
Do we get into line
To line up with those long dead now?
With the muffled tears of sorrow
Bones underground
Is this time our time?
Yes, it is
Without or with this shadow of doubt
I dont want to wake up
Lost in the dreams of our fathers
Oh, its such a waste child
To live and die for the dreams of our fathers
Though I must confess, yes
My view is a wonder about this
This love I possess, love
Must be the dreams of our fathers
I wanna go, I wanna run
We turn, so sure someones looking down
Its haunting me, haunting me
Leaves us here to get out
Though I dont believe, I dont believe
This flavor in my mouth
Is from my tongue alone
So bitter I wanna spit it out
I repeat these words
They come out
Under the blue light in the sky
My empty pages are filling up
With these wicked lies
But I hear deep in myself
An echo, an echo
Of empty, empty emptiness
Comes up and swells inside
I dont want to wake up
Lost in the dreams of our fathers
Oh, its such a waste child
To live and die for the dreams of our fathers
Though I must confess, yes
My view is a wonder about this
This love I possess, love
It must be the dreams of our fathers
Rain on my head
Rain on my head
Rain on me
And then give me air
Rain on my love
Again and again
Why cant I dream you away from me?
Look here, look here
Bloated, floating
Go belly down
Belly up in the water
But who is this here thats drowned?
We followed a drunken man
He got us all spinning round
But its like he swallowed himself
And didnt leave us a way out
I dont want to wake up
Lost in the dreams of our fathers
Oh, its such a shame child
To live and die for the dreams of our fathers
Though I must confess, yes
My view is a wonder about this
This love I possess, love
It must be the dreams of our fathers
This love I possess, love
It must be the dreams of our fathers
This love I possess, love
It must be the dreams of our fathers
This love I possess, love
It must be the love of our fathers
The dreams
The dreams
The dreams
This love I possess love
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Newborn Angel's Lullaby
Angel-born smile slipped away
To forever-sleep in grace,
Left behind a name to love
But what's in a name?
When farewell is too much to say
Through the tears fallen from the faces
Of those left to carry with only the memories…
Please sleep in peace
As your dream-bound voice still sings its melody
Unfit for tears, not for love, not for me...
Sweeter the dreams, bitter the sorrows,
At the dawn, awaken forlorn…
All the tears shed at the breaking of the dawn
Each for the memory of the loved ones now gone
They come to comfort me through the lonesome of the night
Until the day I join them beyond the light…
Please sleep in peace
As your dream-bound voice still sings its melody
Unfit for tears, not for love, not for me…
Sweeter the dreams, bitter the sorrow
At the dawn, awaken forlorn…
I still feel your love over the distance of our hearts
Let no ocean keep us apart
Let our love carry us together
Once upon a time, you were my world, my friend
Today, ever after, you're the stars in my sky
My angel…
My everything…
poem by Paul James
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The Last Song Of Camoens
The morning shone on Tagus' rocky side,
And airs of summer swelled the yellow tide,
When, rising from his melancholy bed,
And faint, and feebly by Antonio led,
Poor Camoens, subdued by want and woe,
Along the winding margin wandered slow,
His harp, that once could each warm feeling move
Of patriot glory or of tenderest love,
His sole and sable friend (while a faint tone
Rose from the wires) placed by a mossy stone.
How beautiful the sun ascending shines
From ridge to ridge, along the purple vines!
How pure the azure of the opening skies!
How resonant the nearer rock replies
To call of early mariners! and, hark!
The distant whistle from yon parting bark,
That down the channel as serene she strays,
Her gray sail mingles with the morning haze,
Bound to explore, o'er ocean's stormy reign,
New lands that lurk amid the lonely main!
A transient fervour touched the old man's breast;
He raised his eyes, so long by care depressed,
And while they shone with momentary fire,
Ardent he struck the long-forgotten lyre.
From Tagus' yellow-sanded shore,
O'er the billows, as they roar,
O'er the blue sea, waste and wide,
Our bark threw back the burning tide,
By northern breezes cheer'ly borne,
On to the kingdoms of the morn.
Blanco, whose cold shadow vast
Chills the western wave, is past!
Huge Bojador, frowning high,
Thy dismal terrors we defy!
But who may violate the sleep
And silence of the sultry deep;
Where, beneath the intenser sun,
Hot showers descend, red lightnings run;
Whilst all the pale expanse beneath
Lies burning wide, without a breath;
And at mid-day from the mast,
No shadow on the deck is cast!
Night by night, still seen the same,
Strange lights along the cordage flame,
Perhaps, the spirits of the good,
That wander this forsaken flood
Sing to the seas, as slow we float,
A solemn and a holy note!
Spectre of the southern main,
Thou barr'st our onward way in vain,
Wrapping the terrors of thy form,
In the thunder's rolling storm!
Fearless o'er the indignant tide,
On to the east our galleys ride.
Triumph! for the toil is o'er--
We kiss the far-sought Indian shore!
Glittering to the orient ray,
The banners of the Cross display!
Does my heart exulting bound?
Alas, forlorn, I gaze around:
Feeble, poor, and old, I stand,
A stranger in my native land!
My sable slave (ah, no! my only friend,
Whose steps upon my rugged path attend)
Sees, but with tenderness that fears to speak,
The tear that trickles down my aged cheek!
My harp is silent,--famine shrinks mine eye,--
'Give me a little food for charity!'
poem by William Lisle Bowles
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Silent Night
Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child
Holy Infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace
Silent night, holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight
Glories stream from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia!
Christ, the Saviour is born
Christ, the Saviour is born
Silent night, holy night
Son of God, love's pure light
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Time Again
Silent night
holy night
all is calm and
all is bright
round your virgin
mother and child
holy infant so tender and mild
sleep in heavenly peace
sleep in heavenly peace
silent night
holy night
Shepherds quake at the sight;
Glories stream from heaven afar,
Heavenly hosts sing alleluia!
Christ the Saviour is born
Christ the Saviour is born
silent night
holy night
Son of God, love's pure light;
Radiant beams from thy holy face,
With the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord at thy birth
Jesus, Lord at thy birth
song performed by by Ashanti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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