To be bourgeois is to have a certain type of materialism. You have to think of what that means. It means everything that destroys dreams, everything that destroys anything attractive. That's what being bourgeois means for me. It means security. It's a type of mediocrity of the spirit. It's everything I dislike.
quote by Jacques Brel
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
Added by Poetry Lover
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Life's A Genius
Life's a genius.
Not a mediocrity
looking for reasons to live in the morning.
Life's not a plan.
It's a spirit that doesn't need one
whether things go right or wrong.
Life is light and water.
It delights in going everywhere at once.
Mediocrities have genius
but they don't know how
to play with it like a child.
Their eyes peek
through knotholes in the fence
but they sacrifice their longing
on the conventional altars of common-sense
and never throw the ball back over the hills
like the moon coming up
or the sun going down
without worrying about
breaking the neighbours'windows.
Life throws whole mountains around
and turns the cornerstones into quicksand
and goes down with Atlantis
only to come up again like Moby Dick
spewing stars out of its blowhole.
Mediocrity has its feet planted firmly on the ground.
It never goes anywhere it hasn't gone before.
It's the kind of fire
that sleeps with an extinquisher
in case things get too hot to put out.
Mediocrity shares.
But life's the kind of genius
that gives like an apple-tree
that fully expresses itself
through infinitely more
than four seasons
no two alike
without caring if it's of any benefit to anyone.
Mediocrity's stunned by the blossoms.
Genius tastes the fruit.
Life's the kind of fire
that doesn't have a root
you can pull up and take home with you
to add to your garden
like a new word to your vocabulary.
Mediocrity spells it out.
But genius is the dream grammar
of a spiritual alphabet
that isn't used to taking orders.
It doesn't have twenty-six words for inspiration
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick White
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
Added by Poetry Lover
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Bourgeois Blues
(huddie ledbetter/alan lomax)
(g7) - (c7) - (g) - (d7)
(g7) me and my wife went all over town
And everywhere we went people turned us down
Lord, in a (c7) bourgeois town
Its a (g) bourgeois town
I got the (d7) bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all a- (g) round
Home of the brave, land of the free
I dont wanna be mistreated by no bourgeoisie
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
Well, me and my wife we were standing upstairs
We heard the white man say i dont want no niggers up there
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
Well, them white folks in washington they know how
To call a colored man a nigger just to see him bow
Lord, its a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
I tell all the colored folks to listen to me
Dont try to find you no home in washington, dc
cause its a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
song performed by Ry Cooder
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Bourgeois Blues
(Huddie LedbetterAlan Lomax)
(G7) - (C7) - (G) - (D7)
(G7) Me and my wife went all over town
And everywhere we went people turned us down
Lord, in a (C7) bourgeois town
It's a (G) bourgeois town
I got the (D7) bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all a- (G) round
Home of the brave, land of the free
I don't wanna be mistreated by no bourgeoisie
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
Well, me and my wife we were standing upstairs
We heard the white man say ?I don't want no niggers up there?
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
Well, them white folks in Washington they know how
To call a colored man a nigger just to see him bow
Lord, it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
I tell all the colored folks to listen to me
Don't try to find you no home in Washington, DC
?Cause it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
song performed by Ry Cooder
Added by Lucian Velea
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I'm the type of girl
Im the type of girl that will hang on.
And never let go.
I'm the type of girl whose always hyper.
The one you wanna know.
Im the type of girl you wont wanna date.
But would love to be just friends.
I'm the type of girl who knows the killer.
Long before it ends.
I'm the type of girl whose rooms a mess.
But whose desk is always neat.
I'm the type of girl who is slightly weird.
But you really wanna meet.
I'm the type of girl that holds her tounge.
But never says whats right.
I'm the type of girl who loves to sleep.
But reads all through the night.
I'm the type of girls who fails at sports.
But wins at every game.
I'm the type of girl that always cries.
But covers all the pain.
I'm the type of girl that falls inlove.
With all the wrong guys.
I'm the type of girl thats ready to believe.
In all your pathetic lies.
I'm the type of girl that hates Taylor Lautner.
And all those other teens.
I'm the type of girl who sits alone.
But chases every dream.
I'm the type of girl you can't forget.
Or get out of your head.
I'm the type of girl who'll stick by your side.
Even when your dead.
I'm the type of girl who says what she feels.
And means every single words.
I'm the type of girl that falls up stairs.
And sings songs you've never heard.
I'm the type of girl who spends her life.
Writing depressing poems.
I'm the type of girl who loves to walk.
'Cause she likes to be alone.
[...] Read more
poem by Silence Dogood
Added by Poetry Lover
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Im That Type Of Guy
Youre the type of guy that cant control your girl
You try to buy her love with diamonds and pearls
Im the type of guy that shows up on the scene
And gets the seven digits, you know the routine
Youre the type of guy that tells her, stay inside
While youre steady frontin in your homeboys ride
Im the type of guy that comes when you leave
Im doin your girlfriend, thats somethin you cant believe
Cause Im that type of guy
Youre the type of guy that gets suspicious
Im the type of guy that says, the puddin is delicious
Youre the type of guy that has no idea
That a sneaky, freaky brothers sneakin in from the rear
Im the type of guy to eat it, when he wont
And look in the places that your boyfriend dont
Youre the type of guy to try to call me a punk
Now knowin that your main girls bitin my chunk
Im the type of guy that loves a dedicated lady
Their boyfriends are borin, and I can drive em crazy
Youre the type of guy to give her money to shop
She gave me a sweater _kiss_ thank you, sweetheart
Im that type of guy
Im the type of guy that picks her up from work early
Takes her to breakfast, lunch, dinner, and breakfast
Youre the type of guy eatin a tv dinner
Talkin about... goddamn it, ima kill her
Im the type of guy to make her say, why youre illin, bee?
...youre the type of guy to say, my lower back is killin me
...catch my drift?
Youre the type of guy that likes to drink olde english
Im the type of guy to cold put on a pamper
Youre the type of guy to say, what you talkin bout?
Im the type of guy to leave my drawers in your hamper
Im that type of guy
Im that type of guy
You know what I mean?
Check it out...
T-y-p-e g-u-y
Im that type of guy to give you a pound and wink my eye
Like a bandit, caught me redhanded, took her for granted
But when I screwed her, you couldnt understand it
Cause youre the type of guy that dont know the time
Swearin up and down, that girls all mine
Im the type of guy to let you keep believin it
Go head to work, while I defrost it, and season it
Im that type of guy
Im that type of guy
Know what I mean
Im that type of guy
So ridiculous
[...] Read more
song performed by LL Cool J
Added by Lucian Velea
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Casanova Brown
Let me tell you bout that jive type
That jive type
Casanova brown
I met him at a party
He said the sweetest things when he hit on me
Wrapped up in his arms
I was blinded by his charm and I couldnt see
Like the story of little red riding hood
The big bad wolf was up to
Up to no good, woo, no
That jive type,that jive type
Casanova brown
He hit on me and hell hit on you
That jive type,that jive type
Casanova brown
I was lonely and naive
I guess thats why I believed every word he says
It felt so good to hear
Every time he said he cared it went straight to my head
He loved me and left me
But I cant deny
His love was so doggone good
I still, I still love that guy, ooh, [oh no] hey
That jive type,that jive type
Casanova brown
He hit on me and hell hit on you, watch out
That jive type,that jive type, ooh
Casanova brown
Let me tell you bout that jive type
That jive type
Casanova brown
That jive type,that jive type,
Casanova brown
I was sittin there mindin my business
Feelin good, checkin things out
Sippin on little wine [jive type, that jive type]
Then I spotted
Super cool dude cross the room diggin on me
I tried to pretend like I didnt even see him
But he was so fine
He took my hand and started to dancin
I know he felt me fallin for him
cause he kept holdin me tighter and tighter, ooh
Sure was nice
Girl, my head was all turned around, oh
I didnt know what I was gettin into, ooh, ow
Up to no good, oh no
That jive type,that jive type
Casanova brown
That jive type,that jive type
[...] Read more
song performed by Gloria Gaynor
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Loves of the Angels
'Twas when the world was in its prime,
When the fresh stars had just begun
Their race of glory and young Time
Told his first birth-days by the sun;
When in the light of Nature's dawn
Rejoicing, men and angels met
On the high hill and sunny lawn,-
Ere sorrow came or Sin had drawn
'Twixt man and heaven her curtain yet!
When earth lay nearer to the skies
Than in these days of crime and woe,
And mortals saw without surprise
In the mid-air angelic eyes
Gazing upon this world below.
Alas! that Passion should profane
Even then the morning of the earth!
That, sadder still, the fatal stain
Should fall on hearts of heavenly birth-
And that from Woman's love should fall
So dark a stain, most sad of all!
One evening, in that primal hour,
On a hill's side where hung the ray
Of sunset brightening rill and bower,
Three noble youths conversing lay;
And, as they lookt from time to time
To the far sky where Daylight furled
His radiant wing, their brows sublime
Bespoke them of that distant world-
Spirits who once in brotherhood
Of faith and bliss near ALLA stood,
And o'er whose cheeks full oft had blown
The wind that breathes from ALLA'S throne,
Creatures of light such as still play,
Like motes in sunshine, round the Lord,
And thro' their infinite array
Transmit each moment, night and day,
The echo of His luminous word!
Of Heaven they spoke and, still more oft,
Of the bright eyes that charmed them thence;
Till yielding gradual to the soft
And balmy evening's influence-
The silent breathing of the flowers-
The melting light that beamed above,
As on their first, fond, erring hours,-
Each told the story of his love,
The history of that hour unblest,
When like a bird from its high nest
[...] Read more
poem by Thomas Moore
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Spirit
I can see my destination
I can hear my call
No more hesitation, mmm
This time I'm goin' for all
'Cause I know where this road leads to
And therefore I will rise
I know this dream will come true, mmm
And I will soar the sky
(Spirit, spirit)
Would you guide me? Oh
(Spirit) oh (spirit)
Stand by me
Come on, Come on, Come on
Set me free
I can feel the penetration
Of a strong wind movin' me, mmm
I feel can the elevation, mmm
Of an angel lifting me, mmm
'Cause I know where this road leads to
Therefore I will rise
I know this dream will come true, oh
And I will soar the sky
(Spirit) spirit (spirit) spirit
Would you guide me? Ohh
(Spirit) spirit (spirit) spirit
Standin' by me
Come on, Come on, Come on
Set me free
(Oh spirit)
Now that I've found my way home
I've got to get there, get there (get there)
Though one step seems one mile long
Your bridge before my face (your bridge before my face)
I will take the leap of faith (I will take the leap of faith)
(Spirit) spirit (spirit) spirit
Would you guide me? Oh
(Spirit) spirit (spirit) spirit
Stand by me, oh
(Spirit) spirit (spirit) spirit
Set me free...
(Spirit) spirit (spirit) spirit
Spirit, set me free
(Spirit) help me find my way (spirit) stand by my side
Spirit take my hand and be my guide
(Spirit) run free (spirit) run free
Run free, run free
(Spirit) run free (spirit) run free...
song performed by R. Kelly
Added by Lucian Velea
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What Type Of Man
What kind of a man goes after a married woman
What kind of a man does it and proclaims his faith in GOD
What kind of man does the things that he shouldn't
Does that type of man think that he will never be caught.
What type of man leaves his children and his wife
What type of man puts his needs and his wants first
What type of a man is scared to fight his own fights
Does that type of man cares whose soul that he hurts.
What type of man talks behind other peoples backs
What type of man lies to make himself look tall in front of others
What type of man is scared to admit the guilt that he has done
Does that type of man think that we are his brothers.
What type of man will not work for a living
What type of man wants others to take care of him
What type of man thinks he is something but he's not
Does that type of man thinks that manhood is his friend.
What type of man cannot be used as an example
What type of man does not keep promises that he's made
What type of man should not be father to any child
Does that type of man know the price that a real man has paid.
What type of man thinks but he cannot think
What type of man looks but he truly does not see
What type of man hears but he does not listen
Does that type of man know that he could never be me.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Autumn-Spirit.
Now the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the Earth, bedecked with symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign,
Makes us think about the season of the flowers with a sigh,
When life was lush in every tree-love laughed in every eye,
Whilst her lineaments of beauty were imprinted on the sod,
When the Spring with Winter wrestled, on that gala-day of God!
But the Spring is dead and buried, and the Summer's vital fire,
Like a heap of sullen embers, smoulders ready to expire;
For the Autumn-Spirit, reigning over mountain, vale and plain,
Robes the Earth in royal symbols emblematic of his reign!
Hark! a singing train of seraphim doth o'er its surface pass!
Mark! their flowing robes of flame have singed the green and speary grass!
Witness! every tender blade appeareth tipped and tinged with brown,
And the hedge is hemmed with rose-leaves, which their wings have shaken down,
Though the hind but hears the whirring of ten thousand pinions beat,
Sees a cloud of birds of passage trail its shadow by his feet,
For the pageantry of Heaven hath escaped his optics dim,
And he sees but birds of passage in the God-sent seraphim,
While the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the Earth is robed in symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign!
While his tread is on the mountain, through the valley and the plain,
Like some Fate-commissioned angel, Desolation tracks his train,
And the glory of the Summer and the beauty of the Spring
Form a carpet for his feet, a fading, weird, and worn-out thing!
And his wings distil an odour, as of corpses in perfume,
Warbled through his ghastly whispers sound the sighs of buried bloom,
And his accents are dim echoes from the hollow caves of Death,
And the wailing woods are withered by his cold and crisping breath,
For the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the Earth is robed in symbols of the Autumn-spirit's reign!
Where the Poet loves to saunter in some unfrequented nook,
Or to sit and learn the language of the ever-babbling brook,
While its glassy surface mirrors the deep gulf of Heaven's blue,
Where the sunny cloud-ships, sailing, point to vapour lands in view,
There the river's creeks are mantled with red leaves and yellow foam,
And its broken banks are scattered with dead branches dipped in loam,
And a wail of desolation through the fading forest hums,
And the Winds grow chill by thinking of the Winter ere it comes,
While the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the Earth is robed in symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign!
Where the lily of the valley and the violet of the copse
Looked like Thoughts incorporated-like embodied youthful Hopes!
Where the golden-tubëd honeysuckle's pipes were interwound
With the ruddy-tinted roses breathing scented music round,
In the field or the forest, by the verdure-sheltered rills,
Where, in green and golden garments, Summer sate among the hills,
[...] Read more
poem by William Billington
Added by Poetry Lover
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Jesus Christ Touched My Heart
Jesus Christ touched my heart
each expressed sentiment rang true
when Jesus spoke each thought
asked ‘Who Will We Worship Now'?
each parable as I read I instantly knew
each parable questioned souls me and you
each parable declared truth acts we do
materialism greed preaches ego success
materialism preaches individual achievement
materialism lives in sanctuaries of gold
materialism loves windows of colored glass
materialism hates getting manicured hands dirty
materialism lives on prestige side of towns...
It has decades this soul bothered
that all the world's great religions
build huge temples to their God
or God's beautiful though shaped
by worship honouring host hands
many built in worship great houses
to their God or Gods who need
no houses to shelter chill starved
mortal suffering dirt dying bodies;
but so many temples built so few
homes for orphans the sick the poor
living flesh souls God does adore.
Where do you think noble God
in truth is to be most found?
In houses of worship countless
built by hands of his own clay?
Or in hospitals, orphanages,
soup kitchens, simple homes
of the poor; and the homeless
streets where beloved poor
so often fall asleep desperate?
Remember greed rich those first
with men are often last with God.
Jesus is most often recorded in
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
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Security
Security
Sometimes its hard
When I dont know where youre going
Or where youve been
I got a broken heart
Surely, if you let me know you care for me
My heart will mend
Darling, I cant wait forever
Youve got to let me know or let me go (let me go)
All Im saying is
You cant keep playing with
A heart that loves you so
Security
Thats what we need, to keep our love strong
Security
Dont make me wait to long
Security
You gotta let me know if this is what you want
Security
Dont keep me hanging on
Im sure you know
If you take the time to think about it, you will realize
Honey, now not too long ago
I used to play around but thats all over
Youre my only guy
Re-evaluate this situation
Better check out your priorities
Youve got to get it straight
No hesitation
If what you want is me
Security
Thats what we need, to keep our love strong
Security
Dont make me wait to long
Security
You gotta let me know if this is what you want
Security
Dont keep me hanging on
Security
Thats what we need, to keep our love strong
Security
Dont make me wait to long
Security
You gotta let me know if this is what you want
Security
Dont keep me hanging on
Darling, I cant wait forever
Youve got to let me know - or let me go (let me go)
All Im saying is
You cant keep playing with
[...] Read more
song performed by Vanessa Williams
Added by Lucian Velea
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Attractive Female Wanted
(rod stewart / gary grainger)
Im tired of buying penthouse and oui and hustler
Its friday night Im all alone still a bachelor
She said shed call me when shed finished work
Havent heard a word all day
I may not be warren beatty or mohammed ali
(attractive female wanted)
I aint asking a great deal, just a female to move in with me
(attractive female wanted)
Ill share all my records, toothbrush and car
And color tv, honestly
A single girl for my single bed is my remedy
(attractive female wanted)
She doesnt have to be a movie star
Cover of a magazine
She can work in a garage all day
In the evening some canteen
Im tired of blind dates making silly mistakes
Its embarrassing
(attractive female wanted)
Ive had no complaints
But obviously youve guessed
No compliments
(attractive female wanted)
Wont someone please answer my prayers
Before Im old and grey
(attractive female wanted)
Ive been lonely too long
All of my family think Im gay
She doesnt have to be a movie star
Cover of magazine
She can work in a garage all day
In the evening some canteen
Attractive female wanted
Active female wanted
I may get drunk stink like a skunk
But shell look after me
(attractive female wanted)
Put me to bed ease my aching head
And made fuss of me
You know what I gonna do
Think Ill write a letter
To mr. hugh heffner confidentially
Dear sir
A single girl for my single bed is my remedy
song performed by Rod Stewart
Added by Lucian Velea
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The House Of Dust: Complete
I.
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.
'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.
We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .
Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.
Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.
Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.
II.
[...] Read more
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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The Spirit Of The Snow
The night brings forth the morn-
Of the cloud is lightning born;
From out the darkest earth the brightest roses grow.
Bright sparks from black flints fly,
And from out a leaden sky
Comes the silvery-footed Spirit of the Snow.
The wondering air grows mute,
As her pearly parachute
Cometh slowly down from heaven, softly floating to and fro;
And the earth emits no sound,
As lightly on the ground
Leaps the silvery-footed Spirit of the Snow.
At the contact of her tread,
The mountain's festal head,
As with chaplets of white roses, seems to glow;
And its furrowed cheek grows white
With a feeling of delight,
At the presence of the Spirit of the Snow.
As she wendeth to the vale,
The longing fields grow pale-
The tiny streams that vein them cease to flow;
And the river stays its tide
With wonder and with pride,
To gaze upon the Spirit of the Snow.
But little doth she deem
The love of field or stream-
She is frolicsome and lightsome as the roe;
She is here and she is there,
On the earth or in the air,
Ever changing, floats the Spirit of the Snow.
Now a daring climber, she
Mounts the tallest forest tree-
Out along the giddy branches doth she go;
And her tassels, silver-white,
Down swinging through the night,
Mark the pillow of the Spirit of the Snow.
Now she climbs the mighty mast,
When the sailor boy at last
Dreams of home in his hammock down below
There she watches in his stead
Till the morning sun shines red,
Then evanishes the Spirit of the Snow.
Or crowning with white fire.
[...] Read more
poem by Denis Florence MacCarthy
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Dreamworks
DREAMWORKS
Eyes saw reflection Monday, when World War II was won,
emerging, letters learning, to betters bowed, begun
a journey spread like butter upon life’s bread, which seems
to be about to stutter before landlord of dreams.
Eye Tuesday schooled, life's masquerade began to understand
how letters strung together rung bells brain took in hand,
soft strength no bitter toil required to channel patterned streams,
blood flood no rudder needed to feed forever's dreams.
Eyes which advanced one Wednesday upon emotions’ tide
to woo, to win, together, as groom to beauty bride,
felt joys would last for ever, like strawberries and cream,
tapped hope's sap, never'd sever eternity from dreams.
Eyes which in turn one Thursday sired fruit so well desired,
who queried much, yet stayed untouched by vain ambitions tired,
felt feelings frank, not clever, that seek 'together's' gleams,
to sow, reap, harvest, gather the essence of shared dreams.
Eyes which Friday celebrate, see seed to stripling strong
stretch skywards, never hesitate, sift just from wrong's pronged tongs,
subjective views eliminate, zest tests through searchlight beams,
shows all may know glow grows, fair flows, to feed tomorrow’s dreams.
Eyes weary on this Saturday sense Winter drawing near,
reach through rhyme’s interplay to transmit loud and clear
before Time’s ‘weak~end’ weather may ravage, mock soul’s gleams,
this theme: ~ that one should never compromise on dreams.
Eyes which one Sunday may pass away, life legacy would leave:
ideals unbetrayed, pray none know poison, prison, grieve.
Life's cycle turns as candle burns, warms all within its beams, ~
road cats' eyes snake, make no mistake, tomorrow takes your dreams...
9 May 2005 minor modifications 21 April 2008 revised 30 April 2008,8 March 2011
for previous versions see below
DREAMWORKS
Eyes saw first light one Monday, when World War II was won,
emerging, letters learning, to betters bowed, begun
a journey spread like butter upon life’s bread, which seems
to be about to stutter before landlord of dreams.
Eyes which were schooled one Tuesday began to understand
how letters strung together rung bells brain took in hand,
soft strength no conscious effort to channel patterned streams
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Dream
'TWAS summer eve; the changeful beams still play'd
On the fir-bark and through the beechen shade;
Still with soft crimson glow'd each floating cloud;
Still the stream glitter'd where the willow bow'd;
Still the pale moon sate silent and alone,
Nor yet the stars had rallied round her throne;
Those diamond courtiers, who, while yet the West
Wears the red shield above his dying breast,
Dare not assume the loss they all desire,
Nor pay their homage to the fainter fire,
But wait in trembling till the Sun's fair light
Fading, shall leave them free to welcome Night!
So when some Chief, whose name through realms afar
Was still the watchword of succesful war,
Met by the fatal hour which waits for all,
Is, on the field he rallied, forced to fall,
The conquerors pause to watch his parting breath,
Awed by the terrors of that mighty death;
Nor dare the meed of victory to claim,
Nor lift the standard to a meaner name,
Till every spark of soul hath ebb'd away,
And leaves what was a hero, common clay.
Oh! Twilight! Spirit that dost render birth
To dim enchantments; melting Heaven with Earth,
Leaving on craggy hills and rumning streams
A softness like the atmosphere of dreams;
Thy hour to all is welcome! Faint and sweet
Thy light falls round the peasant's homeward feet,
Who, slow returning from his task of toil,
Sees the low sunset gild the cultured soil,
And, tho' such radliance round him brightly glows,
Marks the small spark his cottage window throws.
Still as his heart forestals his weary pace,
Fondly he dreams of each familiar face,
Recalls the treasures of his narrow life,
His rosy children, and his sunburnt wife,
To whom his coming is the chief event
Of simple days in cheerful labour spent.
The rich man's chariot hath gone whirling past,
And those poor cottagers have only cast
One careless glance on all that show of pride,
Then to their tasks turn'd quietly aside;
But him they wait for, him they welcome home,
Fond sentinels look forth to see him come;
The fagot sent for when the fire grew dim,
The frugal meal prepared, are all for him;
For him the watching of that sturdy boy,
[...] Read more
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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All Lost.
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Stress!
PB
(C) Yorkshire, Sunday 11th October at 21.58.
poem by Paul Butters
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