Coronach
(words and music by david palmer)
Grey the mist --- cold the dawn;
Cruel the sea and stern the shore.
Brave the man who sets his course
For albion.
Sweet the rose --- sharp the thorn;
Meek the soil and proud the corn.
Blessed the lamb that would be born
Within this green and pleasant land.
Hi-o-ran-i-o
Hi-o-ran-i-o
Brown furrow shine
Beneath the rain washed blue.
Bright crystal streams
From eagle mountains born.
Fortune has smiled on those who wake anew,
Within this fortress nature built
To stay the hand of war.
With the wind from the east
Came the first of those who tread
Upon this stone, this stone of kings;
This realm, this new jerusalem.
Hi-o-ran-i-o
Hi-o-ran-i-o
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Jerusalem
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon englands mountains green?
And was the holy lamb of god
On englands pleasant pastures seen?
And did the countenance divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was jerusalem builded here
Among those dark satanic mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear: o clouds unfold!
Bring me my chariots of fire!
I will not cease from metal fight;
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built jerusalem
In englands green and pleasant land.
song performed by by Vangelis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The New Jerusalem
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic Mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my charriot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.
poem by William Blake
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Milton: And did those feet in ancient time
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold:
Bring me my arrows of desire:
Bring me my spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire.
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.
poem by William Blake
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From Milton: And did those feet
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?
Bring me my Bow of burning gold:
Bring me my Arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear:O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!
I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green & pleasant Land.
poem by William Blake
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And Did Those Feet In Ancient Time
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark satanic mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.
poem by William Blake
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jerusalem
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold:
Bring me my arrows of desire:
Bring me my spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire.
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.
poem by William Blake
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands,-- This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
quote by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Sand Castles
(words & music by david hess - herb goldberg)
At night
When the sky is still
When the south wind blows
And the air is warm
Theres a world thats born
And for every child on the beach that day
Stands a castle tall and proud
And the warm wind crawls through the castle walls
And the nightfolk wake as the warm wind calls
At night
When the sky is still
When the south wind blows
And the air is warm
Theres a world thats born
Then the fiddler crab plays his violin
On the back of a dancing whale
While the mermaid sing to the shell they bring
And the dragon leads with his sweeping tail
At night
When the sky is still
When the south wind blows
And the air is warm
Theres a world thats born
For the rosy dawn
Brings the children on to the beach thats bright and new
And the nightfolk know as the castles grow
They will play once more as the children do
At night
When the sky is still
When the south wind blows
And the air is warm
Theres a world thats born
A world thats born
Theres a world thats born
A world thats born
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memories Of The Pacific Coast
I know a land, I, too,
Where warm keen incense on the sea-wind blows,
And all the winter long the skies are blue,
And the brown deserts blossom with the rose.
Deserts of all delight,
Cactus and palm and earth of thirsty gold,
Dark purple blooms round eaves of sun-washed white,
And that Hesperian fruit men sought of old.
O, to be wandering there,
Under the palm-trees, on that sunset shore,
Where the waves break in song, and the bright air
Is crystal clean; and peace is ours, once more.
There Beauty dwells,
Beauty, re-born in whiteness from the foam;
And Youth returns with all its magic spells,
And the heart finds its long-forgotten home,--
Home--home! Where is that land?
For, when I dream it found, the old hungering cry
Aches in the soul, drives me from all I planned,
And sets my sail to seek another sky.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Kings Of The Day
(regis diem)
Heroes of the future
The keepers of the past
And objects of our beauty
Remaining till the last
Walking on the water
The oceans at our feet
The passage of our nature
The taste of bitter-sweet
So shall we be kings?
Born just to win
Proud voices sing
And we wish that this life would go on and on
Looking in the distance
The fever on the street
Cast away the covers
Let my people see
Rulers of the network
Leaders from the dark
Embrace a generation
The first will be the last
So shall we be kings?
Born just to win
Proud voices sing
And we wish that this life would go on and on
Shall we be kings?
Born just to win
Proud voices sing
We will never give up till the day is done
Shall we be kings?
Born just to win
Proud voices sing
And we hope that the word will live on and on
Time waiting
Time taking
Life
Music & lyrics by: geoff downes & john payne
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Deep in a Yew-Sequestered Grove
Deep in a yew-sequestered grove
I sat and wept my heart away;
A child came by at close of day
With eyes as sweet as new-born love.
He came from sun-bleached meadows where
High on the hedge the topmost rose
Curtsies to every wind that blows.
A wanton of the summer air.
The sunset aureoled his brow,
Kindling the roses in his hand,
And by my side I saw him stand
To offer me his rose-red bough:
Take back thy gift--I sighed forlorn,
And showed where like the yew's red seed,
My blood had trickled, bead on bead,
From wounds made by his cruel thorn.
He smiled and said:--Nay, take my Rose;
You know, when all is said and done,
There's not a joy beneath the sun
Worth lovers' joys but lovers' woes.
poem by Mathilde Blind
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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November
There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
poem by Walter de la Mare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Morning Spring
The foul mist has been replaced in the greening plain,
And the dew-drops shine on the ear lop of a balmy rose, not rain,
The coquette rose awakes facing East again
Its lovely self adorning in such fresh scent morning with no strain.
Oh, the vast plain is grassy, untamed wild and bare
Wild, wanton and wide open to the morning air
Which has built up everywhere
Making the little rabbit to the meadow tread and dare
upon the far horizon blue peaks in the distance rise
And ivory white against the cold sapphire sky
Shine out of the crowing crests of snow
Beneath their line the bushes stretching in a dominant grow
The morning wind is hiding, sighing, dodging among the trees,
A sighing, soothing, laughing tease, of glee, not tears
The sun is rising in bright dusk skies
Veils his fair head of glory while contently he spies
This morning it is my love unclouded luster of her eyes
Her beauty shines as nature does; and once it descried
The jealous vanquish roses lose their bursting pride
And back into their home buds their blushes hide
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All rights reserved
The Path Through The Corn
WAVY and bright in the summer air,
Like a pleasant sea when the wind blows fair,
And its roughest breath has scarcely curled
The green highway to a distant world,--
Soft whispers passing from shore to shore,
As from hearts content, yet desiring more--
Who feels forlorn,
Wandering thus down the path through the corn?
A short space since, and the dead leaves lay
Mouldering under the hedgerow gray,
Nor hum of insect, nor voice of bird,
O'er the desolate field was ever heard;
Only at eve the pallid snow
Blushed rose-red in the red sun-glow;
Till, one blest morn,
Shot up into life the young green corn.
Small and feeble, slender and pale,
It bent its head to the winter gale,
Hearkened the wren's soft note of cheer,
Hardly believing spring was near:
Saw chestnuts bud out and campions blow,
And daisies mimic the vanished snow
Where it was born,
On either side of the path through the corn.
The corn, the corn, the beautiful corn,
Rising wonderful, morn by morn:
First, scarce as high as a fairy's wand,
Then, just in reach of a child's wee hand;
Then growing, growing, tall, brave, and strong:
With the voice of new harvests in its song;
While in fond scorn
The lark out-carols the whispering corn.
A strange, sweet path, formed day by day,
How, when, and wherefore, we cannot say,
No more than of our life-paths we know,
Whither they lead us, why we go;
Or whether our eyes shall ever see
The wheat in the ear or the fruit on the tree;
Yet, who's forlorn?--
He who watered the furrows can ripen the corn.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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By Miners Hands
What miner’s art
Did meld and make,
Did stone on stone
Fling you on high,
Or lie beneath
The stars, awake
To think your shape
As nights sped by?
What weary hand
Did knead and tread
Your mud in some
Dead winter’s storm,
While autumn’s bride
Long kept her bed
To wait his will
Who gave you form.
And though they lie
Unknown at last,
Without foundation
Still you stand,
Your walls have stood
Six score of years
While they ran through
Their shift of sand!
And every furrow
At some brow
Did trace in mud
These barren lands,
Each humble cottage
Built in need
Was raised in pride
By miner’s hands!
18 February 1983
poem by David Lewis Paget
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I Was Made To Love Magic
I was born to love no one
No one to love me
Only the wind in the long green grass
The frost in a broken tree.
I was made to love magic
All its wonder to know
But you all lost that magic
Many many years ago.
I was born to use my eyes
Dream with the sun and the skies
To float away in a lifelong song
In the mist where melody flies.
I was made to love magic...
I was born to sail away
Into a land of forever
Not to be tied to an old stone grave
In your land of never.
I was made to love magic...
song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Beyond The Rainbow’s End
There is a green and pleasant land,
where I wish to spend my retiring years.
A land that has tall mountains
that reach up to the sky,
trees tall, green and noble
that stretch across many acres of land,
with cooling streams that flow through the heart
of this green and pleasant land
that lies just beyond the rainbow’s end.
This is where this paradise starts,
a place one day to which I’ll lose my heart.
The people there are friendly
and take you in with open arms.
There one day I hope to be
in that green and pleasant land
that lies just beyond the rainbow’s end.
1 November 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stone Exchange
She knocked and entered
I have a gift for you
What he said
You can't do
In her hand was
A stone
Was she going to throw it
Who knows
She was so unpredictable
With that she smiled
And said this is it
A stone
A simple stone
Purple brown and grey
She placed it on the table
I took it out of my heart
Our hearts
For us
And every morning since
They exchanged stones
From their hearts
Soon they had
A little pile
Of freedom
poem by Harriet James
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Lamb Of God
Spoken:
After jesus was born in bethlehem in judea
During the time of king herod
Wise men from de east came to jerusalem and asked
Where is the one who is born king of the jews?
We saw his star in the east and we have come to worship him
Lord we have traveled far
Torn and weary guided by your star
There before us the living king
Halleluiah his praises sing
Herod with a evil plan
Kill the babies
Came his bold command
He tried to alter gods holy plan
God has saved him
The son of man
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of god
The chosen one of god
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of love
The chosen one of god
Three kings from a distance come
Bearing gifts for the only one
Shout to heaven sound the drum
Tell the nations
The lord has come
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of god
The chosen one of god
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of love
The chosen one of god
He came to bring us his peace
He came to bring us his joy
To bring us love
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of god
The chosen one of god
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of god
The precious lamb of god
Behold the lamb of god
The mighty king of god
The chosen one of god
Spoken:
And so the wise men the shepherds
The ox and the lamb
The angels above
All rejoiced at gods command
As a star shine from heaven
This new king to adorn
On that very first christmas
When jesus christ was born
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nature - mother of all creations......
When the morning sun rises in the sky
When the new day is born as beautiful
When the dew drops rolls down the leaves
When the garden of flowers hugs the nature
and shower its fragrance and makes nature proud
When the trees leaves oxygen for mankind
starts dancing to the tune of wind
When the birds sits on top of the trees and
singing to the nature's choir with happiness
When the fauna in the jungle sets free to live proudly
When the stream water gurgles from the mountain
and when wet earth makes barren land fertile
When the farmers glorify the nature with happiness
and start to cultivate food for the nations
When the sun sets behind the green mountains
and the moon start to light the nation
When the nature forgets its vastness
Then the God show his creation on his earth.
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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