En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Tudun-Murtala

Sweet birth……Sweet home
Dropped in you in eighty one
Tudun-Murtala thou art my birth home
So sweet so solace a home
The home is so serene
In thee I still live
Thou scent fragrance
Thou art beautiful to my eye
Sweet birth……Sweet home
May I die in thee
And my tomb build in thee
And no one can disturb me
Thou art so solace a home

poem by Mahamma Adrianne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Home, Sweet Home

Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain;
Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again!
The birds singing gayly, that come at my call --
Give me them -- and the peace of mind, dearer than all!
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

I gaze on the moon as I tread the drear wild,
And feel that my mother now thinks of her child,
As she looks on that moon from our own cottage door
Thro' the woodbine, whose fragrance shall cheer me no more.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

How sweet 'tis to sit 'neath a fond father's smile,
And the caress of a mother to soothe and beguile!
Let others delight mid new pleasures to roam,
But give me, oh, give me, the pleasures of home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

To thee I'll return, overburdened with care;
The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there;
No more from that cottage again will I roam;
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet, home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

poem by John Howard Payne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sweet Stay-at-Home

Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Well-content,
Thou knowest of no strange continent;
Thou hast not felt thy bosom keep
A gentle motion with the deep;
Thou hast not sailed in Indian seas,
Where scent comes forth in every breeze.
Thou hast not seen the rich grape grow
For miles, as far as eyes can go:
Thou hast not seen a summer's night
When maids could sew by a worm's light;
Nor the North Sea in spring send out
Bright hues that like birds flit about
In solid cages of white ice --
Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Love-one-place,
Thou hast not seen black fingers pick
White cotton when the bloom is thick,
Nor heard black throats in harmony;
Nor hast thou sat on stones that lie
Flat on the earth, that once did rise
To hide proud kings from common eyes.
Thou hast not seen plains full of bloom
Where green things had such little room
They pleased the eye like fairer flowers --
Sweet Stay-at-Home, all these long hours.
Sweet Well-content, sweet Love-one-place,
Sweet, simple maid, bless thy dear face;
For thou hast made more homely stuff
Nurture thy gentle self enough;
I love thee for a heart that's kind --
Not for the knowledge in thy mind.

poem by William Henry Davies
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Sweet Home

My home is calling
And my heart; responding
The abode of pleasures and exhilaration
Where my mind prepares for some missions
My home, my home
My sweet, lovely home
I call on thee
Give me a space to sleep

Am not among those who cry
Seeking for hope, but it's dry
Am a free man
Facing difficulties which is so hard
My home, my home
My sweet, lovely home
I call on thee
Give me a space to sleep

Do i look like a convict?
The one who cries in the prison
Or like the bee that flies
And returns with joy to it hive
No! But no! I am not
I don't crave for the monastery, I'm not a monk
All i want is to return back home
To stay with folks but not alone
My home, my home
My sweet, lovely home
I call on thee
Give me a space to sleep

I traveled abroad
I had much fun
I visited the queen
She offered me a tea
With all these pleasures
Without doubt cos am so sure
The home holds lot in hand
Treasures, happiness, so much to count
My home, my home
My sweet, lovely home
I call on thee
Give me a space to sleep

I went to Brazil
I saw their windmills
I ate their food
Which made me cool
Delicious was it their fried fish
The one i ate which made me wishing
Then i remember the panla which we eat at home
So delicious and irresistible for the hungry throat
My home, my home
My sweet, lovely home
I call on thee
Give me a space to sleep

I journeyed to Kenya
I saw a tiger
Its eyes scared me
Its claws; waiting for a meal
I rode on an elephant
So huge; so large
I saw lot of things
The zoo, the views
But still i craved
For my home; for my space
My home, my home
My sweet, lovely home
I call on thee
Give me a space to sleep

I traveled all around the world
And everything seemed so bored
My eyes craved only for my beautiful home
My hands, my mouth and my little nose
They are all wishing to see
My house, my room, my folks in the street
All i have to do is go back home
To stay with folks and sleep on their foams
For wherever you are meant to be
Your home provides a beautiful space to sleep
My home, my home
My sweet, lovely home
I call on thee
Give me a space to sleep.

poem by Yahaya Habeeb Jprof Kayode
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Home Sweet Home

Met this girl called josephine and took her up on my machine
We had a little fun and now we got a little one
Had to get married, being chased out of town
Found ourselves a place to live, we put all our money down
Call it home sweet home, home sweet home
Eleven floors up in a tower block
Happy just to have a home
Ive gone and changed the lock on our home
Nothing really worked out right, things got broke,
They stayed that way
None of our friends came around at night and little sam got
No place to play
Weve got to get out of here, bill she said Ive been telling
You all the while
When I came home from work that night shed jumped out the
Window with our chiled
From our home sweet home, home sweet home
Just a place to take a rest, just a place ot make our nest
-- we call it our home
When the insurance money came through seemed dirty didnt
Know what to do
Took the cash went down the casino, down on the wheel
On the double
And I won, oh yes I won, like I never won before
Bought myself a country house with an antique carved
Oak door
It was home sweet home, home sweet home
Just a place to lay our head think of all those things we said
About in our home sweet home.

song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home, sweet home is home with daddy!

I look at the familiar house I call home
I am back home, sweet home after the journey
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!

I look at Daddy's children, full of expectations
The young man with soiled hands, still jumping on Daddy
The young lady wanting to tell Daddy all the stories of school
It does not matter that Daddy is tired! Daddy is always daddy
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!

I know I have to travel again from home tomorrow
I may go to the nice places, be they palaces or hotels
Marble floors sparkling with reflections of cleanliness
But they are not as homely as home with daddy
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!

I look at everybody wanting to know about the trip of daddy
Everybody wants to know what daddy has brought
Everybody is happy to see daddy home
Daddy is always strong, no tiredness even when tired
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!

poem by Nyota Yasulwe
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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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We Cover Thee—Sweet Face

482

We Cover Thee—Sweet Face—
Not that We tire of Thee—
But that Thyself fatigue of Us—
Remember—as Thou go—
We follow Thee until
Thou notice Us—no more—
And then—reluctant—turn away
To Con Thee o'er and o'er—

And blame the scanty love
We were Content to show—
Augmented—Sweet—a Hundred fold—
If Thou would'st take it—now—

poem by Emily Dickinson
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An Exile's Song

My soul is like a prisoned lark,
That sings and dreams of liberty,
The nights are long, the days are dark,
Away from home, away from thee!

My only joy is in my dreams,
When I thy loving face can see.
How dreary the awakening seems,
Away from home, away from thee!

At dawn I hasten to the shore,
To gaze across the sparkling sea -
The sea is bright to me no more,
Which parts me from my home and thee.

At twilight, when the air grows chill,
And cold and leaden is the sea,
My tears like bitter dews distil,
Away from home, away from thee.

I could not live, did I not know
That thou art ever true to me,
I could not bear a doubtful woe,
Away from home, away from thee.

I could not live, did I not hear
A voice that sings the day to be,
When hitherward a ship shall steer,
To bear me back to home and thee.

Oh, when at last that day shall break
In sunshine on the dancing sea,
It will be brighter for the sake
Of my return to home and thee!

poem by Robert Fuller Murray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fugitive's Triumph

Go, go, thou that enslav'st me,
Now, now thy power is o'er;
Long, long have I obeyed thee,
I'm not a slave any more;
No, no-oh, no!
I'm a
free man
ever more!

Thou, thou brought'st me ever,
Deep, deep sorrow and pain;
But I have left thee forever,
Nor will I serve thee again;
No, no-oh, no!
No, I'll not serve thee again.

Tyrant! thou hast bereft me
Home, friends, pleasures so sweet;
Now, forever I've left thee,
Thou and I never shall meet;
No, no-oh, no!
Thou and I never shall meet.

Joys, joys, bright as the morning,
Now, now, on me will pour,
Hope, hope, on me is dawning,

I'm not a slave any more!

No, no-oh, no,
I'm a FREE MAN evermore!

poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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The Maid Of Jerusalem

Maid of Jerusalem, by the Dead Sea,
I wandered all sorrowing thinking of thee,--
Thy city in ruins, thy kindred deplored,
All fallen and lost by the Ottoman's sword.

I saw thee sit there in disconsolate sighs,
Where the hall of thy fathers a ruined heap lies.
Thy fair finger showed me the place where they trod,
In thy childhood where flourished the city of God.

The place where they fell and the scenes where they lie,
In the tomb of Siloa--the tear in her eye
She stifled: transfixed there it grew like a pearl,
Beneath the dark lash of the sweet Jewish Girl.

Jerusalem is fallen! still thou art in bloom,
As fresh as the ivy around the lone tomb,
And fair as the lily of morning that waves
Its sweet-scented bells over desolate graves.

When I think of Jerusalem in kingdoms yet free,
I shall think of its ruins and think upon thee;
Thou beautiful Jewess, content thou mayest roam;
A bright spot in Eden still blooms as thy home.

poem by John Clare
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Home Sweet Home

You know i'm a dreamer
But my heart's of gold
I had to run away high
So i wouldn't come home low
Just when things went right
It doesn't mean they were always wrong
Just take this song and you'll never feel
Left all alone
Take me to your heart
Feel me in your bones
Just one more night
And i'm comin' off this
Long & winding road
I'm on my way
Well, i'm on my way
Home sweet home
Tonight tonight
I'm on my way
I'm on my way
Home sweet home
You know that i seem
To make romantic dreams
Up in lights, fallin' off
The silver screen
My heart's like an open book
For the whole world to read
Somtimes nothing--keeps me together
At the seams
I'm on my way
Well, i'm on my way
Home sweet home
Tonight tonight
I'm on my way
Just set me free
Home sweet home

song performed by by Motley Crue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You've Got Her In Your Pocket

You've got her in your pocket
And there's no way out now
Put it in the safe and lock it
'cause it's at home sweet home
Nobody ever told you that it was the wrong way
To trick a woman, make her feel she did it her way
And you'll be there if she ever feels blue
And you'll be there when she FINDS someone new
What to do
Well you know
You keep her in your pocket
Where there's no way out now
Put it in a safe a lock it
'cause it's home sweet home
The smile on your face made her think she had the right one
Then she thought she was sure
By the way you two could have fun
But now she might leave
like she's threatened before
grab hold of her fast
before her feet leave the floor
and she's out the door
Cause you want,
To keep you in my pocket
Where there's no way out now
Put it in a safe a lock it
'cause it's home sweet home
And in your own mind
You know you're lucky just to know her
And in the beginning all you wanted was to show her
But now your scared
You think she's running away
You're searching your head for something clever to say
Dont go away
Cause i want,
To keep you in my pocket
where there's no way out
put it in the safe and lock it
cos' it's home sweet home
Home sweet home

song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thy home is thy citadel

(For the people who prefer staying outside their homes and don't care for their families)

Thou spend thy time in the street
Roaming here and there
in search of peace.
Get back thy home,
Thy true peace lies there,
Thy family is the greatest source of thy peace
Whom thou have deserted when thou need it most,
It's thy false ego prevents thee from Going there,
Get back thy home for it is thy rock of refuge,
Dispose off thy dispute within its strong boundries
As home is thy citadel
Which protects thee from all kinds of perils.

poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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To His Forsaken Mistress

I DO confess thou'rt smooth and fair,
And I might have gone near to love thee,
Had I not found the slightest prayer
That lips could move, had power to move thee;
But I can let thee now alone
As worthy to be loved by none.

I do confess thou'rt sweet; yet find
Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets,
Thy favours are but like the wind
That kisseth everything it meets:
And since thou canst with more than one,
Thou'rt worthy to be kiss'd by none.

The morning rose that untouch'd stands
Arm'd with her briers, how sweet she smells!
But pluck'd and strain'd through ruder hands,
Her sweets no longer with her dwells:
But scent and beauty both are gone,
And leaves fall from her, one by one.

Such fate ere long will thee betide
When thou hast handled been awhile,
With sere flowers to be thrown aside;
And I shall sigh, while some will smile,
To see thy love to every one
Hath brought thee to be loved by none.

poem by Sir Robert Aytoun
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Sweet Home Alabama

Big wheels keep on turning
Carry me home to see my kin
Singing songs about the Southland
I miss Alabamy once again
And I think its a sin, yes
Well I heard mister Young sing about her
Well, I heard ole Neil put her down
Well, I hope Neil Young will remember
A Southern man don't need him around anyhow
Sweet home Alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you
In Birmingham they love the gov' nor
Now we all did what we could do
Now Watergate does not bother me
Does your conscience bother you?
Tell the truth
Sweet home Alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you
Here I come Alabama
Now Muscle Shoals has got the Swampers
And they've been known to pick a song or two
Lord they get me off so much
They pick me up when I'm feeling blue
Now how about you?
Sweet home Alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you
Sweet home Alabama
Oh sweet home baby
Where the skies are so blue
And the guv'nor's true
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you

song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Rocking Hymn

Sweet baby, sleep! what ails my dear,
What ails my darling thus to cry?
Be still, my child, and lend thine ear
To hear me sing thy lullaby.
My pretty lamb, forbear to weep;
Be still, my dear; sweet baby, sleep.

Thou blessed soul, what canst thou fear?
What thing to thee can mischief do?
Thy God is now thy father dear,
His holy Spouse, thy mother too.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.

Though thy conception was in sin,
A sacred bathing thou hast had;
And, though thy birth unclean hath been,
A blameless babe thou now art made.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my dear; sweet baby, sleep,

While thus thy lullaby I sing,
For thee great blessings ripening be;
Thine eldest brother is a King,
And hath a kingdom bought for thee.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.

Sweet baby, sleep and nothing fear,
For whosoever thee offends,
By thy protector threat'ned are,
And God and angels are thy friends.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.

When God with us was dwelling here,
In little babes he took delight;
Such innocents as thou, my dear,
Are ever precious in His sight.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.

A little infant once was He,
And, strength in weakness, then was laid
Upon His virgin-mother's knee,
That power to thee might be conveyed.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.

In this, thy frailty and thy need,
He friends and helpers doth prepare,
Which thee shall cherish, clothe and feed;
For of thy weal they tender are.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.

The King of kings, when he was born,
Had not so much for outward ease;
By Him such dressings were not worn,
Nor such like swaddling-clothes as these.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.

Within a manger lodged thy Lord
Where oxen lay and asses fed;
Warm rooms we do to thee afford,
An easy cradle or a bed.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.

The wants that He did then sustain
Have purchased wealth, my babe, for thee;
And by His torments and His pain
Thy rest and ease securèd be.
My baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.

Thou hast (yet more) to perfect this,
A promise and an earnest got
Of gaining everlasting bliss,
Though thou, my babe, perceiv'st it not;
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.

poem by George Wither
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Birds

He. Where thou dwellest in what Grove
Tell me Fair one tell me love
Where thou thy charming Nest dost build
O thou pride of every field

She. Yonder stands a lonely tree
There I live and mourn for thee
Morning drinks my silent tear
And evening winds my sorrows bear

He. O thou Summers harmony
I have livd & mournd for thee
Each day I mourn along the wood
And night hath heard my sorrows loud

She. Dost thou truly long for me
And am I thus sweet to thee
Sorrow now is at an End
O my Lover & my Friend

He. Come on wings of joy well fly
To where my Bower hangs on high
Come & make thy calm retreat
Among green leaves and blossoms sweet

poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Vobiscum est Iope

WHEN thou must home to shades of underground,
And there arrived, a new admired guest,
The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round,
White Iope, blithe Helen, and the rest,
To hear the stories of thy finish'd love
From that smooth tongue whose music hell can move;

Then wilt thou speak of banqueting delights,
Of masques and revels which sweet youth did make,
Of tourneys and great challenges of knights,
And all these triumphs for thy beauty's sake:
When thou hast told these honours done to thee,
Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murder me!

poem by Thomas Campion
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