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My fan mail is enormous. Everyone is under six.

quote by Alexander Calder
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Fanmail

Welcome
Weve dedicated our entire album cover
To any person who has ever sent us fan mail
This is a journey into life love
And the future of music fan mail
Tlc would like to thank you
For your support fan mail
And just like you
They get lonely too
Just like you
I get lonely too
Ahhhhhhhhh fan mail
Ahhhhhhhhh fan mail
Ahhhhhhhhh fan mail
Just like you
I get lonely too
Ahhhhhhhhh fan mail
Ahhhhhhhhh fan mail
Ahhhhhhhhh fan mail
Just like you
I get lonely waited for you for so long
Too many days since january
Im still sittin miss alone
We shoulda did this already
Said I got an e mail today
Kinda thought that youd forgot about me
So I wanna hit you back to say chorus
Just like you
I get lonely baby
I could really get to know you
Take my time to show you
Dont tell anybody what we do
When I get lonely take me
To another place where Ill be
Into space just you and me
With no rules
Just like you
I get lonely too
Just like you fan mail
Ahhhhhhhhh
Just like you fan mail
Ahhhhhhhhh
Just like you fan mail
Ahhhhhhhhh
Just like you
I get lonely too
Ahhhhhhhhh
Just like you fan mail
Ahhhhhhhhh
Just like you fan mail

[...] Read more

song performed by TLC
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Kitty McCrae - A Galloping Rhyme

The Western sun, ere he sought his lair,
Skimm’d the treetops, and glancing thence,
Rested awhile on the curling hair
Of Kitty McCrae, by the boundary fence;
Her eyes looked anxious, her cheeks were pale,
For father was two hours late with the mail.

Never before had he been so late,
And Kitty wondered and wished him back,
Leaning athwart the big swing gate
That opens out on the bridle-track,
A tortuous path that sidled down
From the single street of a mining town.

With her raven curls and her saucy smile,
Brown eyes that glow with a changeful light,
Tenderly trembling all the while
Like a brace of stars on the breast of night,
Where could you find in the light of day
A bonnier lassie than Kitty McCrae?

Born in the saddle, this girl could ride
Like the fearless queen of the silver bow;
And nothing that ever was lapped in hide
Could frighten Kitty McCrae, I trow.
She would wheel a mob in the hour of need
If the Devil himself were in the lead.

But now, in the shadows’ deepening
When the last sun-spark had ceas’d to burn,
Afar she catches the sullen ring
Of horse-hoofs swinging around the turn,
Then painfully down the narrow trail
Comes Alex McCrae with the Greytown mail.

"The fever-and-ague, my girl," he said,
"'Twas all I got on that northern trip,
When it left me then I was well-nigh dead,
Has got me fast in its iron grip;
And I'd rather rot in the nearest gaol
Than ride to-night with the Greytown mail.

"At Golden Gully they heard to-day -
'Twas a common topic about the town -
That the Mulligan gang were around this way,
So they wouldn't despatch the gold-dust down,
And Brown, the manager, said he thought
'Twere wise to wait for a strong escort.

"I rode the leaders, the other nags

[...] Read more

poem by Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
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Fan The Fire

Maurice white, donald whitehead & wade flemons
**ohh its a shame
Its a shame its a shame
The flame of love is about to die
Somebody fan the fire
The flame of love is about to die
Somebody fan the fire
Love is dyin today
Somebody fan the fire
The flame of love is dyin I say
We gonna fan the fire, come on along
Little children starving in a foreign land,
Talk about it brother
Man afraid to shake his brothers hand
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
Woman in trouble callin but nobody cares
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
People denied the rights that are truly
Theirs
(its a shame)
*i believe I believe
(I believe I believe)
I believe I believe
(I believe I believe)
I believe the flame of love is about to die
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
I believe the flame of love is about to die
The flame of love is about to die
Somebody fan the fire
Flame of love is about to die
Were gonna fan the fire, come on along.
Violence striking down great men of peace
Poverty in the homes and crime in the streets
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
Kind-hearted people turnin to hate
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
Mans about to destroy the human race
(its a shame)
(*repeat)
(its a shame)
(* * repeat)
I believe the flame of love is about to die
(repeat)

song performed by Earth Wind And Fire
Added by Lucian Velea
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E-mail My Heart

Forever...
Its been hours
Seems like days
Since you went away
And all I do is check the screen
To see if youre okay
You dont answer when I phone
Guess you wanna be left alone
So Im sending you my heart my soul
And this is what Ill say
Im sorry
Oh so sorry cant you give me one more chance
To make it all up to you
E-mail my heart
And say our love will never die (and I)
I know youre out there
And I know that you still care (I know you care)
E-mail me back and say our love will stay alive
Forever...e-mail my heart
I can see you in my mind
Coming on the line
And opening this letter
That Ive sent a hundred times
Heres a picture of us two (us two)
I look so good on you (on you)
And cant you please forgive me
For the hurt I put you through
Im sorry
Oh so sorry cant you give me one more chance
To make it all up to you
E-mail my heart
And say our love will never die (and I)
I know youre out there
And I know that you still care (I know you care)
E-mail me back and say our love will stay alive
Forever...e-mail my heart
Im sorry
Oh so sorry cant you give me one more chance
To make it all up to you
E-mail my heart
And say our love will never die (and I)
I know youre out there
And I know that you still care (I know you care)
E-mail me back and say our love will stay alive
Forever...e-mail my heart
Forever...e-mail my
Forever...e-mail my heart

song performed by Britney Spears
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Fan : A Poem. Book III.

Thus Mommus spoke. When sage Minerva rose,
From her sweet lips smooth elocution flows,
Her skilful hand an ivory pallet grac'd,
Where shining colours were in order plac'd.
As gods are bless'd with a superior skill,
And, swift as mortal thought, perform their will,
Straight she proposes, by her art divine,
To bid the paint express her great design.
The assembled powers consent. She now began,
And her creating pencil stain'd the fan.

O'er the fair field, trees spread, and rivers flow,
Towers rear their heads, and distant mountains grow;
Life seems to move within the glowing veins,
And in each face some lively passion reigns.
Thus have I seen woods, hills, and dales appear,
Flocks graze the plains, birds wing the silent air
In darken'd rooms, where light can only pass
Through the small circle of a convex glass;
On the white sheet the moving figures rise,
The forest waves, clouds float along the skies.

She various fables on the piece design'd,
That spoke the follies of the female kind.

The fate of pride in Niobe she drew;
Be wise, ye nymphs, that scornful vice subdue,
In a wide plain the imperious mother stood,
Whose distant bounds rose in a winding wood;
Upon her shoulders flows her mantling hair,
Pride marks her brow, and elevates her air:
A purple robe behind her sweeps the ground,
Whose spacious border golden flowers surround;
She made Latona's altars cease to flam,
And of due honours robb'd her sacred name,
To her own charms she bade fresh incense rise,
And adoration own her brighter eyes.
Seven daughters from her fruitful loins were born,
Seven graceful sons her nuptial bed adorn,
Who, from a mother's arrogant disdain,
Were by Latona's double offspring slain.
Here Phoebus his unerring arrow drew,
And from his rising steed her first-born threw,
His opening fingers drop the slacken'd rein,
And the pale corse falls headlong to the plain.
Beneath her pencil here two wrestlers bend,
See, to the grasp their swelling nerves distend,
Diana's arrow joins them face to face,
And death unites them in a strict embrace.
Another her flies trembling o'er the plain;

[...] Read more

poem by John Gay
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I Wont Be the 'Chief of Relief

Did you get my letter in the mail,
Saying I wont bail out your failure.
Did you get my letter in the mail?
You shoulda got it without fail.

Did you get my letter in the mail,
Saying I wont bail out your failure.
Did you get my letter in the mail?
You shoulda got it without fail.

No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
For your reach outs when your grieving.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
To be there only when you need me!

No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
For your reach outs when your grieving.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
To be there only when you need me!

Did you get my letter in the mail,
Saying I wont bail out your failure.
Did you get my letter in the mail?
You shoulda got it without fail.

Did you get my letter in the mail,
Saying I wont bail out your failure.
Did you get my letter in the mail?
You shoulda got it without fail.

No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
For your reach outs when your grieving.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
To be there only when you need me!

No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
For your reach outs when your grieving.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
To be there only when you need me!

The time has gone,
To sing that same old song!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fanmail

Dear Sirs,
To whom is may concern
theres facts id like to learn
so many things i wanna know
especially trivial info paraphernalia
badges and regalia please send me everything
Cuz I
am interested in you
and everything you do
i find myself at all your shows
could you tell me were you buy your clothes
could you sign my little sisters face
put your signature any place and please send me a bio
Cuz we've got fan mail
we really really read it
Fan Mail
we really really read it
I sent you my letter now i want a reply
you dont know any better than you wont take your time
with my Fan Mail
So i would like to know just if and when
you'll be in town again
so that i could meet with you
and brag at my freinds at school
have you been all around the world
have you seen every kinda of girl
or are you from the other side
Cuz you
you cant believe everything that you read
with the hypocrisy and the greed
the papers all the things that they say
they dont tell me anything anyway
thats why ive gotta get it straight from you
without an obligation
My Fan Mail (oohs and ahhs)
Whats this i find to my suprise
those fans that i idolized
no longer seem to exist

song performed by NOFX
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pony Express

(Written by: Teddy Gentry, Ken Lambert,
Buddy Cannon, Dean Dillon)
He came in and sit down at the end of the bar
His old rawhide shirt full of dust
He asked for a glass and he ordered rye whiskey
He talked to himself and he cussed
He left Sacramento early that morning
With a sackful of mail for St. Joe
Had to outrun some outlaws outside Carson City
By riding where they wouldn't go
He said to me,"Mister, this long riding's hell
But I guess it's got to be done
Otherwise how would you get all your mail
If the pony express couldn't run?"
I said, "I hear you, mister and you do your job well
But I hear it won't be for long
They'll be sending the mail by the wire and the rail
And your pony and you will be gone
--- Instrumental ---
He came in and sit down at the end of the bar
His coveralls covered with dust
He said Jesse James had just held up his train
He talked to himself and he cussed
He pulled out of St. Joe early that morning
With the mail and the union payroll
Had to stop for a rockslide outside Jackson City
And Jesse made off with the gold
He said to me, "Mister, this railroading's hell
But I guess it's got to be done
Otherwise how would you get all you mail
If that old iron horse couldn't run?"
I said, "I hear you,mister and you do your job well
But I hear it won't be for long
They'll be sending the mail without you or the rail
'Cause they say man will fly before long."
--- Instrumental ---
He came in and sit down at the end of the bar
His face looked all haggard and grey
He ordered a drink and said, "Make it a double
Boys it's sure been a long day."
He pulled out of Denver early that morning
He said, "You'll never guess where I've been
A highjacker needed a lift down to Cuba
So your mail will be late getting in."
I said, "I hear you, mister and you do your job well
But you know it ain't been that long
They were doing it best with the pony express
Before you and your friends came along."
--- Instrumental to fade ---

song performed by Alabama
Added by Lucian Velea
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E-Mail

Communication's never been
as easy as today
and it would make me happy
when you've gone so far away
if you'd send me an e-mail
that says 'I love you'
Send me an e-mail
that says 'I love you'
Now time and distance
melt away
No digital delay
And some things
can be written down
that we're too shy to say
Send me an e-mail
that says 'I love you'
Send me an e-mail
that says 'I love you'
There may be other
temptations in your life
Don't want to add more
complications to your life
but I'm sending this e-mail
to say 'I love you'
Now there's a ghost
within this house
You're haunting me tonight
I'm looking at some photographs
and thinking that I might
jump on a plane
and surprise you where
you are
but do you want me there?
I'm so insecure
but one thing would make me sure
if you'd
send me an e-mail
that says 'I love you'
Send me an e-mail
that says 'I love You'

song performed by Pet Shop Boys
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His Call

That evening
I sat down to write
My very last mail
To him.

And while I was writing
I could feel
My aching heart
Throbbing so loud
I could hear
Every beat of it
Pulsating with pain.

And still I kept writing
My very last mail
To him.
Though my eyes
Felt blurred
With all the tears
That rushed asunder
Streaming through my cheeks
And yet I brushed them aside
And wrote
My very last mail to him.

And when I had done
All the writing
I took a long, last look
At that letter of mine
Re-reading every word of it
That I had written to him
With all my heart...

Those precious moments
Were so endearing to me
For I felt that
Once this mail goes
I won't be able to
Write to him anymore
No more of those
Diary mails of mine
I used to write to him
Everyday.

For I had made a Promise
Never to go back
To him.
And that promise I had made
To him and to myself
With all the pain

[...] Read more

poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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San Francisco Fan

San francisco fan
Loved a no-good gamblin man
She drank the coffee dregs
So she could fry his eggs in a golden frying pan
Can-can-ed by command of the gold rush cafe clan
She gave her man her pay
He gambled it away
Playing chinatown fan-tan
Once they caught him cheatin
And he knew that he was beaten
When a miner aimed a pistol at his head
Fanny when shed seen him ran and jumped right in between em
And she stopped a dozen slugs of poison lead
There was fanny dyin
While a hundred men stood cryin
And the angels up above were cryin too
When seven horses started draggin
Fannys coffin in a wagon
Through a dusty californian avenue
San francisco fan
Gave her life to save her man
A man who wasnt worth
A shovelful of earth
From the grave of san francisco fan
San francisco fan
Loved a no-good gamblin man
She drank the coffee dregs
So she could fry his eggs
In a golden frying pan
San francisco fan
Gave her life to save her man
A man who wasnt worth
A shovelful of earth
From the grave of san francisco fan

song performed by Joe Jackson
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The First Fan

READ AT A MEETING OF THE BOSTON BRIC-A-BRAC
CLUB, FEBRUARY 21, 1877

WHEN rose the cry 'Great Pan is dead!'
And Jove's high palace closed its portal,
The fallen gods, before they fled,
Sold out their frippery to a mortal.

'To whom?' you ask. I ask of you.
The answer hardly needs suggestion;
Of course it was the Wandering Jew,--
How could you put me such a question?

A purple robe, a little worn,
The Thunderer deigned himself to offer;
The bearded wanderer laughed in scorn,--
You know he always was a scoffer.

'Vife shillins! 't is a monstrous price;
Say two and six and further talk shun.'
'Take it,' cried Jove; 'we can't be nice,--
'T would fetch twice that at Leonard's auction.'

The ice was broken; up they came,
All sharp for bargains, god and goddess,
Each ready with the price to name
For robe or head-dress, scarf or bodice.

First Juno, out of temper, too,--
Her queenly forehead somewhat cloudy;
Then Pallas in her stockings blue,
Imposing, but a little dowdy.

The scowling queen of heaven unrolled
Before the Jew a threadbare turban
'Three shillings.' 'One. 'T will suit some old
Terrific feminine suburban.'

But as for Pallas,--how to tell
In seemly phrase a fact so shocking?
She pointed,--pray excuse me,--well,
She pointed to her azure stocking.

And if the honest truth were told,
Its heel confessed the need of darning;
'Gods!' low-bred Vulcan cried, 'behold!
There! that's what comes of too much larning!'

Pale Proserpine came groping round,
Her pupils dreadfully dilated

[...] Read more

poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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I'm A Fan

It’s football season again
I hope my team does well this year
Football season again
I’m a fan

It’s football season again
Spread that ball across the field
Football season again
I’m a fan

Through the cold and the rain
I’ll be there at the game
A voice screaming to be heard
I’ll cry sometimes, sometimes I’ll smile
As my voice echoes through the crowd
I’m a fan, I’m a fan, I’m a fan

It’s football season again
I hope my team does well this year
Football season again
I’m a fan

It’s football season again
Tackle hard and play it fair
Football season again
I’m a fan

And at the end of the year
We’ll be dressed in the gear
As they turn to salute the crowd
And we’ll stand with pride
‘Cause they’re our side
And we’ll sing their praises loud
We’re the fans, We’re the fans, We’re the fans

Copyright Colin Coplin 2004 / 2010

poem by Colin Coplin
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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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Youll Get It In The Mail Today

Ive been up all night
Ive been writing this letter
And I think I might have found a better way
To tell you all the things Ive got to say
I put it in writing and youll get it in the mail today
Well I dont know but I cant help feeling
That you got to stop your double-dealin ways
Cheatin on me is a crime that never pays
And thats all in the letter and youll get it in the mail today
Well I would tell you to your face
But youd just lie to me
Put you in your place
But youd just try to defy me
Been up all night
Pencil and a paper
And I think I might have found a safer way
Say goodbye without much more delay
Well its all in the letter and youll get it in the mail today
I dont mean tomorrow
Its all in the letter and youll get it in the mail today
I dont mean no western union
Its all in the letter and youll get it in the mail today

song performed by Jackson Browne
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rollin In My Sweet Babys Arms

(traditional)
I aint gonna work on the railroad
Aint gonna work on the farm
Gonna lay round the shack
Till the mail train comes back
Roll in my sweet babys arms.
Roll in my sweet babys arms
Roll in my sweet babys arms
Lay around the shack
Till the mail train comes back
Roll in my sweet babys arms.
Where were you last friday night
While I was laying here in jail ?
You were walking the streets with another man,
Wouldnt even go my bail.
Roll in my sweet babys arms
Roll in my sweet babys arms
Gonna lay around the shack
Till the mail train comes back
Roll in my sweet babys arms.
I aint gonna work on the railroad
I aint gonna work on the farm
Gonna lay around the shack
Till the mail train comes back
Roll in my sweet babys arms.
Roll in my sweet babys arms
Roll in my sweet babys arms
Gonna lay around the shack
Till the mail train comes back
Roll in my sweet babys
Roll in my sweet babys
Roll in my sweet babys arms.
Alright, kids, risin up the bow, ready for twin fiddles now,
Mary and larry you two ready together now, alright ?
Its a crazy little thing and we call it the cotton-eyed joe!

song performed by Kinky Friedman
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Checks In The Mail

Well, hey how ya doin have a seat have a drink
Boy its good to see you, what can I say?
Oh, sorry gotta run well get together again
Say, what was your name anyway?
Well were working on the problem well get back to you soon
But dont try to call me Ill be in a meeting every afternoon
For a year maybe longer keep in touch
Thanks for dropping by and have a nice day
(chorus)
The checks in the mail - hey! youre beautiful
Dont ever change you know what I mean
My girl will call your girl
Well talk it through lunch
Or leave a message on my machine
So baby wont you sign on the dotted line
Im gonna make your dreams come true
The checks in the mail, would I lie to you?
Well hey wait a minute whats the matter hold on
You want me to fork over the loot?
You say you hate my guts you wanna take me to court
And you got yourself a lawyer with a three-piece suit?
Well Im proud to say youre not the only critic of mine (yeah)
So if you wanna sue me Im afraid youre gonna have to wait in line
Take a number thanks for calling who loves you baby
Dont forget to read the fine print.
(chorus)
Oh, trust me!
The checks in the mail - hey! youre beautiful
Dont ever change, you know what I mean
Why dont you leave a message with my girl
Ill have lunch with your machine
So baby wont you sign on the dotted line
Im gonna make your dreams come true
The checks in the mail, would I lie to you?
The checks in the mail, would I lie to you?

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Overland Mail

(Foot-Service to the Hills)

In the name of the Empress of India, make way,
O Lords of the Jungle, wherever you roam.
The woods are astir at the close of the day --
We exiles are waiting for letters from Home.
Let the robber retreat -- let the tiger turn tail --
In the Name of the Empress, the Overland Mail!

With a jingle of bells as the dusk gathers in,
He turns to the foot-path that heads up the hill --
The bags on his back and a cloth round his chin,
And, tucked in his waist-belt, the Post Office bill:
"Despatched on this date, as received by the rail,
Per runner, two bags of the Overland Mail."

Is the torrent in spate? He must ford it or swim.
Has the rain wrecked the road? He must climb by the cliff.
Does the tempest cry "Halt"? What are tempests to him?
The Service admits not a "but" or and "if."
While the breath's in his mouth, he must bear without fail,
In the Name of the Empress, the Overland Mail.

From aloe to rose-oak, from rose-oak to fir,
From level to upland, from upland to crest,
From rice-field to rock-ridge, from rock-ridge to spur,
Fly the soft sandalled feet, strains the brawny brown chest.
From rail to ravine -- to the peak from the vale --
Up, up through the night goes the Overland Mail.

There's a speck on the hillside, a dot on the road --
A jingle of bells on the foot-path below --
There's a scuffle above in the monkey's abode --
The world is awake, and the clouds are aglow.
For the great Sun himself must attend to the hail:
"In the name of the Empress the Overland Mail!"

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Lord of the Isles: Canto VI.

I.
O who, that shared them, ever shall forget
The emotions of the spirit-rousing time,
When breathless in the mart the couriers met,
Early and late, at evening and at prime;
When the loud cannon and the merry chime
Hail'd news on news, as field on field was won,
When Hope, long doubtful, soar'd at length sublime,
And our glad eyes, awake as day begun,
Watch'd Joy's broad banner rise, to meet the rising sun!
O these were hours, when thrilling joy repaid
A long, long course of darkness, doubts, and fears!
The heart-sick faintness of the hope delay'd,
The waste, the woe, the bloodshed, and the tears,
That track'd with terror twenty rolling years,
All was forgot in that blithe jubilee!
Her downcast eye even pale Affliction rears,
To sigh a thankful prayer, amid the glee,
That hail'd the Despot's fall, and peace and liberty!

Such news o'er Scotland's hills triumphant rode,
When 'gainst the invaders turn'd the battle's scale,
When Bruce's banner had victorious flow'd
O'er Loudoun's mountain, and in Ury's vale;
And fiery English blood oft deluged Douglas-dale,
And fiery Edward routed stout St. John,
When Randolph's war-cry swell'd the southern gale,
And many a fortress, town, and tower, was won,
And fame still sounded forth fresh deeds of glory done.

II.
Blithe tidings flew from baron's tower,
To peasant's cot, to forest-bower,
And waked the solitary cell,
Where lone Saint Bride's recluses dwell.
Princess no more, fair Isabel,
A vot'ress of the order now,
Say, did the rule that bid thee wear
Dim veil and wollen scapulare,
And reft thy locks of dark-brown hair,
That stern and rigid vow,
Did it condemn the transport high,
Which glisten'd in thy watery eye,
When minstrel or when palmer told
Each fresh exploit of Bruce the bold?-
And whose the lovely form, that shares
Thy anxious hopes, thy fears, thy prayers?
No sister she of convent shade;
So say these locks in lengthen'd braid,
So say the blushes and the sighs,

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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Cap And Bells; Or, The Jealousies: A Faery Tale -- Unfinished

I.
In midmost Ind, beside Hydaspes cool,
There stood, or hover'd, tremulous in the air,
A faery city 'neath the potent rule
Of Emperor Elfinan; fam'd ev'rywhere
For love of mortal women, maidens fair,
Whose lips were solid, whose soft hands were made
Of a fit mould and beauty, ripe and rare,
To tamper his slight wooing, warm yet staid:
He lov'd girls smooth as shades, but hated a mere shade.

II.
This was a crime forbidden by the law;
And all the priesthood of his city wept,
For ruin and dismay they well foresaw,
If impious prince no bound or limit kept,
And faery Zendervester overstept;
They wept, he sin'd, and still he would sin on,
They dreamt of sin, and he sin'd while they slept;
In vain the pulpit thunder'd at the throne,
Caricature was vain, and vain the tart lampoon.

III.
Which seeing, his high court of parliament
Laid a remonstrance at his Highness' feet,
Praying his royal senses to content
Themselves with what in faery land was sweet,
Befitting best that shade with shade should meet:
Whereat, to calm their fears, he promis'd soon
From mortal tempters all to make retreat,--
Aye, even on the first of the new moon,
An immaterial wife to espouse as heaven's boon.

IV.
Meantime he sent a fluttering embassy
To Pigmio, of Imaus sovereign,
To half beg, and half demand, respectfully,
The hand of his fair daughter Bellanaine;
An audience had, and speeching done, they gain
Their point, and bring the weeping bride away;
Whom, with but one attendant, safely lain
Upon their wings, they bore in bright array,
While little harps were touch'd by many a lyric fay.

V.
As in old pictures tender cherubim
A child's soul thro' the sapphir'd canvas bear,
So, thro' a real heaven, on they swim
With the sweet princess on her plumag'd lair,
Speed giving to the winds her lustrous hair;

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poem by John Keats
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