The Old Apple-Woman
A Broadway Lyric
SHE sits by the side of a turbulent stream
That rushes and rolls forever
Up and down like a weary dream
In the trance of a burning fever.
Up and down through the long Broadway
It flows with its tiresome paces —
Down and up through the noisy day,
A river of feet and of faces.
Seldom a drop of that river's spray
Touches her withered features;
Yet still she sits there day by day
In the throng of her fellow-creatures.
Apples and cakes and candy to sell,
Daily before her lying.
The ragged newsboys know her well —
The rich never think of buying.
Year in, year out, in her dingy shawl
The wind and the rain she weathers,
Patient and mute at her little stall;
But few are the coppers she gathers.
Still eddies the crowd intent on gain.
Each for himself is striving
With selfish heart and seething brain —
An endless hurry and driving.
The loud carts rattle in thunder and dust;
Gay Fashion sweeps by in its coaches.
With a vacant stare she mumbles her crust,
She is past complaints and reproaches.
Still new faces and still new feet —
The same yet changing forever;
They jostle along through the weary street,
The waves of the human river.
Withered and dry like a leafless bush
That clings to the bank of a torrent,
Year in, year out, in the whirl and the rush,
She sits, of the city's current.
The shrubs of the garden will blossom again
Though far from the flowing river;
But the spring returns to her in vain —
Its bloom has nothing to give her.
Yet in her heart there buds the hope
Of a Father's love and pity;
For her the clouded skies shall ope,
And the gates of a heavenly city.
poem by Christopher Pearse Cranch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Proud River
The river flows through the inner city estate
in it I see beer cans, trolleys, and a milk crate.
Two coots sit on top of a mini fridge
a burnt out car lies under the bridge.
A beautiful Swan glides around an old pushchair
in the reeds lie a child's doll and teddy bear.
An electric cooker lies on the river bed
a family of ducks wait around hoping for bread.
In the dirty water swim little fish and a vole
a big fat rat shoots down a hole.
On a branch a Kingfisher sits ready to dive
Amongst this squalor they somehow manage to survive.
I imagine this stream was once clean and clear
Sadly now used as a dustbin year after year.
But flowing through all this waste and decay
this proud river meanders gently on it's way.
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Cry of the Dreamer
I am tired of planning and toiling
In the crowded hives of men;
Heart-weary of building and spoiling,
And spoiling and building again.
And I long for the dear old river,
Where I dreamed my youth away;
For a dreamer lives forever,
And a toiler dies in a day.
I am sick of the showy seeming
Of a life that is half a lie;
Of the faces lined with scheming
In the throng that hurries by.
From the sleepless thoughts' endeavour,
I would go where the children play;
For a dreamer lives forever,
And a thinker dies in a day.
I can feel no pride, but pity
For the burdens the rich endure;
There is nothing sweet in the city
But the patient lives of the poor.
Oh, the little hands too skillful,
And the child-mind choked with weeds!
The daughter's heart grown willful,
And the father's heart that bleeds!
No, no! from the street's rude bustle,
From the trophies of mart and stage,
I would fly to the woods' low rustle
And the meadows' kindly page.
Let me dream as of old by the river,
And be loved for the dream alway;
For a dreamer lives forever,
And a toiler dies in a day.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Where The River Flows
Music : rudolf schenker
Lyrics: klaus meine
Under suburban skies
Where life is bleeding
Where concrete skies are grey
Theres plenty of room for dreaming
I still keep coming here
Follow those traces
I travel back in time
Remember all those places
Feels like I never left
The houses still standing
Down by the river where
The dreams are never ending
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
Under the silent moon
This industrial city
Is heartland even though
Lifes been not that pretty
I still keep coming here
To that old river
To find my roots just where
The future lives forever
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me, you can find me
By the river where dreams will never die
By the river under suburban skies
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
By the river where dreams have never died
By the river I look through childrens eyes
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
Where the river flows
Where the river flows
Where the river flows
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Dams On The Cuyahoga
Just west
of the Lake,
meanders
the burning river.
The river
in my dreams.
The river on fire.
The river
that oozes
rather than flows.
The river
in which
a person
does not drown
but decays.
And there
the river sits,
waiting for me
to come back home.
poem by Holden Solo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Faces In The Street
They lie, the men who tell us in a loud decisive tone
That want is here a stranger, and that misery's unknown;
For where the nearest suburb and the city proper meet
My window-sill is level with the faces in the street --
Drifting past, drifting past,
To the beat of weary feet --
While I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street.
And cause I have to sorrow, in a land so young and fair,
To see upon those faces stamped the marks of Want and Care;
I look in vain for traces of the fresh and fair and sweet
In sallow, sunken faces that are drifting through the street --
Drifting on, drifting on,
To the scrape of restless feet;
I can sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street.
In hours before the dawning dims the starlight in the sky
The wan and weary faces first begin to trickle by,
Increasing as the moments hurry on with morning feet,
Till like a pallid river flow the faces in the street --
Flowing in, flowing in,
To the beat of hurried feet --
Ah! I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street.
The human river dwindles when 'tis past the hour of eight,
Its waves go flowing faster in the fear of being late;
But slowly drag the moments, whilst beneath the dust and heat
The city grinds the owners of the faces in the street --
Grinding body, grinding soul,
Yielding scarce enough to eat --
Oh! I sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street.
And then the only faces till the sun is sinking down
Are those of outside toilers and the idlers of the town,
Save here and there a face that seems a stranger in the street,
Tells of the city's unemployed upon his weary beat --
Drifting round, drifting round,
To the tread of listless feet --
Ah! My heart aches for the owner of that sad face in the street.
And when the hours on lagging feet have slowly dragged away,
And sickly yellow gaslights rise to mock the going day,
Then flowing past my window like a tide in its retreat,
Again I see the pallid stream of faces in the street --
Ebbing out, ebbing out,
To the drag of tired feet,
While my heart is aching dumbly for the faces in the street.
And now all blurred and smirched with vice the day's sad pages end,
For while the short `large hours' toward the longer `small hours' trend,
With smiles that mock the wearer, and with words that half entreat,
Delilah pleads for custom at the corner of the street --
Sinking down, sinking down,
Battered wreck by tempests beat --
A dreadful, thankless trade is hers, that Woman of the Street.
But, ah! to dreader things than these our fair young city comes,
For in its heart are growing thick the filthy dens and slums,
Where human forms shall rot away in sties for swine unmeet,
And ghostly faces shall be seen unfit for any street --
Rotting out, rotting out,
For the lack of air and meat --
In dens of vice and horror that are hidden from the street.
I wonder would the apathy of wealthy men endure
Were all their windows level with the faces of the Poor?
Ah! Mammon's slaves, your knees shall knock, your hearts in terror beat,
When God demands a reason for the sorrows of the street,
The wrong things and the bad things
And the sad things that we meet
In the filthy lane and alley, and the cruel, heartless street.
I left the dreadful corner where the steps are never still,
And sought another window overlooking gorge and hill;
But when the night came dreary with the driving rain and sleet,
They haunted me -- the shadows of those faces in the street,
Flitting by, flitting by,
Flitting by with noiseless feet,
And with cheeks but little paler than the real ones in the street.
Once I cried: `Oh, God Almighty! if Thy might doth still endure,
Now show me in a vision for the wrongs of Earth a cure.'
And, lo! with shops all shuttered I beheld a city's street,
And in the warning distance heard the tramp of many feet,
Coming near, coming near,
To a drum's dull distant beat,
And soon I saw the army that was marching down the street.
Then, like a swollen river that has broken bank and wall,
The human flood came pouring with the red flags over all,
And kindled eyes all blazing bright with revolution's heat,
And flashing swords reflecting rigid faces in the street.
Pouring on, pouring on,
To a drum's loud threatening beat,
And the war-hymns and the cheering of the people in the street.
And so it must be while the world goes rolling round its course,
The warning pen shall write in vain, the warning voice grow hoarse,
But not until a city feels Red Revolution's feet
Shall its sad people miss awhile the terrors of the street --
The dreadful everlasting strife
For scarcely clothes and meat
In that pent track of living death -- the city's cruel street.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The River of Blood
It’s the river of blood
Initiated by the enemies of God
And when advised too or told to stop
They just give you the nod
The nod of ignorance and cruelty
The nod of no life and no feel
As they are told about they’re evilness
They believe that none of it is real
It’s the river of blood
That flows down a dark and red stream
And as I dip my hand in, it feels like sour, bitter cream
It’s the river of blood
The river of cruelty and pain
The river of blood
The river that flows in vain
The river that will never end
The river full of the dead
The river where they remain silently hopeless
The river where the majority of them bled
It’s this river of blood where I inject my power and strength from
It’s this river full of blood where my victory will soon come
The river of blood, the river that will soon contain me
It’s this river where my blood has long sought to be
The river of blood that shall soon end with an atrocious fight
The river of blood, the river that will no longer stay at sight.
poem by Marria Attar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beautiful River
And he showed me a pure River of Water of Life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the Throne of God and of the Lamb." -- Rev. xxii. 1
Shall we gather at the river
Where bright angel feet have trod;
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?
CHORUS.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
On the margin of the river,
Washing up its silver spray,
We will walk and worship ever,
All the happy, golden day.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
On the bosom of the river,
Where the Saviour-king we own,
We shall meet, and sorrow never
'Neath the glory of the throne. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
Ere we reach the shining river,
Lay we every burden down;
Grace our spirits will deliver,
And provide a robe and crown. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
At the smiling of the river,
Rippling with the Saviour's face,
Saints, whom death will never sever,
Lift their songs of saving grace. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
Soon we'll reach the shining river,
Soon our pilgrimage will cease,
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
With the melody of peace. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
All The Rivers
'All the rivers run into the sea.'
Like the pulsing of a river,
The motion of a song,
Wind the olden words along
The tortuous turnings of my thoughts whenever
I sit beside the sea.
'All the rivers run into the sea.'
O you little leaping river,
Laugh on beneath your breath!
With a heart as deep as death,
Strong stream, go patient, grave, and hasting never,-
I sit beside the sea.
'All the rivers run into the sea.'
Why the passion of a river?
The striving of a soul?
Calm the eternal waters roll
Upon the eternal shore. At last, whatever
Seeks it-finds the sea.
'All the rivers run into the sea.'
O thou bounding, burning river,
Hurrying heart! I seem
To know (so one knows in a dream)
That in the waiting heart of God forever,
Thou too shalt find the sea.
poem by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The River Of Ruin
ALONG by the river of ruin
They dally — the thoughtless ones,
They dance and they dream
By the side of the stream,
As long as the river runs.
It seems all so pleasant and cheery —
No thought of the morrow is theirs,
And their faces are bright
With the sun of delight,
And they dream of no night-brooding cares.
The women wear garlanded tresses,
The men have rings on their hands,
And they sing in their glee,
For they think they are free —
They that know not the treacherous sands.
Ah, but this be a venturesome journey,
Forever those sands are ashrift,
And a step to one side
Means a grasp of the tide,
And the current is fearful and swift.
For once in the river of ruin,
What boots it, to do or to dare,
For down we must go
In the turbulent flow,
To the desolate sea of Despair.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Water My Thirsty Soul
Can the rain fall from cloudless skies
Can your tears fall from hardened eyes
I cried out to the Lord, in my time of need
I prayed for the rain, my soul to feed
And my God, who is never far away
Opened up His heart as He listened to me pray
And from heaven on high He sent down the rain
There's a river of grace that's gonna wash away the pain
And out of my heart flows a river so deep
My once dry eyes they now continually weep
And everywhere the river flows there's grace from above
And everyone it touches they are filled with His love
This rain that falls, it falls from endless blue skies
It fills my empty heart and falls down from my eyes
The Lord Himself sent down the rain from above
And now the cloudless skies are filled with clouds of His love
So if it's rain your looking for, this moment, today
Wont you fall down on your knees and cry out and pray
The Lord of every rain dropp that falls down from above
Will sweep you down the river to an ocean of love
This ocean is boundless, its forever and a day
And in this sea of beauty you will hear the Lord say
I am the Father's tears that was shed from above
And I will carry you home across this ocean of love
poem by Frank McEleny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Journeys end
The stream meanders to and fro.
Here where the cattle come to drink
the yellow cowslips gaily grow.
The weeping willows stooping low
adorn the banks on either side.
The stream continues in its flow.
Past meadows where the cattle graze
and fields where corn is ripening
but here and there red poppies blaze.
The stream now to a river grown
now deep and wide; it gathers strength
Its purpose to itself unknown.
Past cottages which stand alone.
Small villages and market towns
and bridges built of weathered stone.
It has become a thoroughfare
which slices through the city’s heart
With rush and bustle everywhere.
The docks and quays and factories
confine the river in its course.
There is no grass there are no trees.
The river flows on turgidly
until at last it gains release
and flows into the open sea.
But in the distance still the stream
meanders gently to and fro
Where cowslips nod and lovers dream.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The River, Grace
Lift me up,
Take me down
From my rack.
Suspended on meat hooks
Just under my shoulder blades,
The weight of me hangs.
The river comes to me.
The river flows on.
Grace wakes up,
Says, “I will watch with you
We will be watchers
Together.”
Take me down.
Let the river run
Through my wounds;
Cleanse;
Heal.
The river comes.
The river flows.
Wash out all the refuse;
Toxic trash flushed away
Forever from me
Clear
Free
The river comes.
The river flows.
Fill me up with goodness.
Purity, rush into these holes;
Saturate in light, then
Stop up the access,
Make me whole.
River, come to me.
River, flow on.
And the river is God’s Gift.
And the river is Grace.
Lay me new baptized
In the tall grass
On the bank
Let me hear
Talking light
Beat back the night.
They sing of your source,
Your redemption renowned.
Now I join the chorus.
And the river, God’s gift,
Lift me up.
And the river, Grace
Carry me on.
poem by Lee Ann Schaffer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dog River Blues
Well I first kissed you on a hollow log
Down by the river they call the dog
We fell in love and we vowed that day
Like the flow of the river our love wont change
Well we married that spring and we built a house
On the bank of the river where the rock juts out
Now the rivers still here but youre long gone
You left me and the river here all alone
I got the dog river blues
Ive walked holes in both my shoes
Now I still got the river but I aint got you
I got the dog river blues
Well the rain came down and the river rose up
Filled up the cab on my pickup truck
It came in the house and down the hall
And washed your picture right off the wall
Chorus
Well my heart still yearns and the river still rolls
And I pray someday itll bring you home
So if you change your mind honey Ill be here
Waiting on the banks of that oldog river
Chorus
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Looking For Love On Broadway
Need a reason to be here
Hoping to find it tonight
Walking alone on broadway
Watching the people
Watching the town go down
Broadways a river to me
Fat fish in the big city sea
Taxi cabs, limousines, submarines
Got my mind on a sweet dream
Keeping an eye on this street scene
cause Im open for love
In the middle of town tonight
Had my fill of self-pity
I brought all my blues to the city
Guess Im pressing my lucky
In the middle of town tonight
See me waiting on you to smile back on me
Child
It looks like tomorrow
It seems like the end of a dream
Dawning on me on broadway
In the morning light its a dream
And Im just a fool
Looking for love on broadway
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Twilight Broodings
Sitting alone on the river bank
In the fast fading amber light
My eyes glanced across the flowing river
To the other side, on my right
Neon bulbs have begun flickering here n' there
On the far fringes of the sprawling city,
As fire flies clustering in dozens
Making the night look so pretty
With what vigor and gripping zest
The city has woken up, never to rest
And hordes of people, unmindful of any
Move briskly along the crowded street
Where do this stirring throng advance
When there descends the long pawed night
It leaves one to wonder, if it's man's lot
To be ever in motion without halt
I watched the turbid mass of current
Of the river bearing an agitated frown
How it moves to its convergence with the sea
Hundreds of miles away, still slugging down
With a resonant whistle and a ‘chug' ‘chug' sound
I heard the train trundling away
Reminding me of endless days and nights
Fleeting past in inscrutable dismay
Just then I chanced to think of Time and River
The twin forces making a unique pair
Unable to get back from whence they came
Rushing forward anon and ever
All around, I see life on wheels
Racing down in frantic hurry
Without knowing what awaits
At the other end, after all such scurry
poem by Valsa George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A River That Flows Forever
as long as someone suffer,
the river flows forever,
as long as there is pain,
the river flows forever,
as strong as a smile can be,
the river that flows forever
as long as you are with me,
we'll ride the river forever
poem by Hanz Nathan Paul delgado
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Whirl-Blast from Behind The Hill
A Whirl-Blast from behind the hill
Rushed o'er the wood with startling sound;
Then--all at once the air was still,
And showers of hailstones pattered round.
Where leafless oaks towered high above,
I sat within an undergrove
Of tallest hollies, tall and green;
A fairer bower was never seen.
From year to year the spacious floor
With withered leaves is covered o'er,
And all the year the bower is green.
But see! where'er the hailstones drop
The withered leaves all skip and hop;
There's not a breeze--no breath of air--
Yet here, and there, and everywhere
Along the floor, beneath the shade
By those embowering hollies made,
The leaves in myriads jump and spring,
As if with pipes and music rare
Some Robin Good-fellow were there,
And all those leaves, in festive glee,
Were dancing to the minstrelsy.
poem by William Wordsworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Freeze Love
You went away without glance
You went away uttering no word
Shall we meet again or it was last?
Without seeing you how could I pass days?
Eyes are becoming river thinking you
Sky is on the ladder of sorrow, because of your love
Unfathomable water in river departs room on bank
If sky is clouded over it must be rain some where
When high tidal pain in sea what to happen of puzzled sailor?
Because of love when you lose all you become lost Simon
Our love is like river
Love at white snow of Himalaya
Love over flowing the Padma- the Meghna river
As the sea is whereabouts of river’s love-
Love of river mixes at out let of sea
Packing in envelop love of snow is send
Our love is like river
You went away without glance
Do not leave in this manner o loveliness
Defiled air at heart causes the love freeze.
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The River Flows
The river flows and moss grows
And I dangle my feet in the water
The water is cold, but so is my heart
As I sit and just watch time goes by
No place I have to go, no place to be
Time has passed too fast, as fast as the river flows
Who else has sat here and felt this way
Felt pain in their heart and soul
They don't understand, did they ever?
All the hurt down deep in my soul
The leaves sway with the wind
And the chill sets in
I know I must leave, I don't know where
Guess I'll find my way down the road
With tears in my eyes and a broken heart
I'll find my way back to somewhere
The river flows on and the moss will keep growing
Till someone else sits here
And remembers things like I do
And wish I had them all back
I leave in the night, goodbye to the river and moss
May each persons who comes this way
Find a peace inside like I did but on the way
I'll always remember that the river flows on and the moss grows.
Written by Jo Carey
River Feeling
River feeling is
As simple as
Closing your eyes
For a moment.
Everything flows like river
River feeling is
As smooth as
Everything after
The first step.
Everything flows like river
River feeling is
easy as forgetting
Walking boots.
Everything flows like river
River feeling is
nice as
iron ties
Coming off.
Everything flows like river
Everything flows like river
Everything flows like river
Everything is good and flows
like river
poem by Julian Mann
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!