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I find it refreshing to unplug from it for a while. You kind of forget how deeply you get embedded in it.

quote by Will Wright
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Victories Of Love. Book II

I
From Jane To Her Mother

Thank Heaven, the burthens on the heart
Are not half known till they depart!
Although I long'd, for many a year,
To love with love that casts out fear,
My Frederick's kindness frighten'd me,
And heaven seem'd less far off than he;
And in my fancy I would trace
A lady with an angel's face,
That made devotion simply debt,
Till sick with envy and regret,
And wicked grief that God should e'er
Make women, and not make them fair.
That he might love me more because
Another in his memory was,
And that my indigence might be
To him what Baby's was to me,
The chief of charms, who could have thought?
But God's wise way is to give nought
Till we with asking it are tired;
And when, indeed, the change desired
Comes, lest we give ourselves the praise,
It comes by Providence, not Grace;
And mostly our thanks for granted pray'rs
Are groans at unexpected cares.
First Baby went to heaven, you know,
And, five weeks after, Grace went, too.
Then he became more talkative,
And, stooping to my heart, would give
Signs of his love, which pleased me more
Than all the proofs he gave before;
And, in that time of our great grief,
We talk'd religion for relief;
For, though we very seldom name
Religion, we now think the same!
Oh, what a bar is thus removed
To loving and to being loved!
For no agreement really is
In anything when none's in this.
Why, Mother, once, if Frederick press'd
His wife against his hearty breast,
The interior difference seem'd to tear
My own, until I could not bear
The trouble. 'Twas a dreadful strife,
And show'd, indeed, that faith is life.
He never felt this. If he did,
I'm sure it could not have been hid;
For wives, I need not say to you,

[...] Read more

poem by Coventry Patmore
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I can't forget

I can't forget your smile
I can't forget your laughing eyes
Your kindness causes me to cry

I ask.
I ask.
I ask myself why

Are you s much apart of my life
Our midnight conversations rang in the back of my mind.

Time after Time

I crave for your company

I cry out at night for your warmth
I can't forget the woman you are.
I can't forget you are my friend

As well as my lover.
I can't forget you waiting outside my J.O.B.

To bring me home
I can't forget your tears
When I was laid off.

I can't forget, I just can't

I can't forget the first time I saw you.
Radiant and full of life/ you are.
Your voice low and sweet,

Eyes glued to mine as we speak
I just can't forget
I can't forget how myself esteem grew
While with you.

I can't forget
The long walks and talks of encouragement
You are...You are...You are!

UN_FOR_GET_TABLE!

You are my life line
You are my door to time
I can't forget

[...] Read more

poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Two Folk Songs

I. THE SOLDIER

(Roumanian)

When winter trees bestrew the path,
Still to the twig a leaf or twain
Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath,
But that foreknown forlorner pain-
To fall when green leaves come again.

I watch'd him sleep by the furrow-
The first that fell in the fight.
His grave they would dig to-morrow:
The battle called them to-night.

They bore him aside to the trees, there,
By his undigg'd grave content
To lie on his back at ease there,
And hark how the battle went.

The battle went by the village,
And back through the night were borne
Far cries of murder and pillage,
With smoke from the standing corn.

But when they came on the morrow,
They talk'd not over their task,
As he listen'd there by the furrow;
For the dead mouth could not ask-

How went the battle, my brothers?

But that he will never know:
For his mouth the red earth smothers
As they shoulder their spades and go.

Yet he cannot sleep thereunder,
But ever must toss and turn.

How went the battle, I wonder?

-And that he will never learn!

When winter trees bestrew the path,
Still to the twig a leaf or twain
Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath,
But that foreknown, forlorner pain-
To fall when green leaves come again!

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
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Forget Me Not

Forget me not
Baby baby
As I rock you gently
Right here in my arms
I promise to always
Be here for you
Keep you safe and warm
Sometimes in the middle of the night
I wake up cryin when I think of how long
It took to find you
And now that I have I wont be movin on
Nothing can ever separate us
We know where we belong
All Im asking you
All Im asking
Before this moments gone
Forget me not
Dont forget what we got
Every day is surely but a dream
I found the sweetest of all things
For all my life
Youll be my light
With every beat thats in your heart
Oh baby please remember to
Forget me not
Time is funny
Time can fly
Thats one thing for sure
Ill wake tomorrow
Blink my eyes
See you standin at that door
And Ill be lookin at you
See the wonder of what love can be
Someday I might have to let you go
And thats just so hard to believe
And if I do youll know just
How much you mean to me
And all Ill ask of you
All Ill ask you
Before I set you free
Forget me not
Dont forget what we got
Every day is surely but a dream
I found the sweetest of all things
For all my life
Youll be my light
With every beat thats in your heart
Oh baby please remember to
Forget me not
Forget me not

[...] Read more

song performed by Celine Dion
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
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If I Ever Forget You

If i ever forget you,
the sun would forget
to shine nor the moon
at night.

If i ever forget you,
ants would forget to gather
food and the fish would
forget how to swim.

If i ever forget you,
the river would forget the
sea and the sunflower would
forget to gaze at the sun.

If i ever forget you,
babies would forget how
to crawl and cock would
forget how to crow.

If i ever forget you,
farmers would forget there
path and humans would forget
there name.

If i ever forget you,
the tree would forget to
bear fruit and demons would
forget to do evil.

If i ever forget you.
i will never forget you.

poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
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I've Never Trusted Before

Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
As deeply as you wish me to.
Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
And as deeply as you wish me to.
Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
Or as deeply as you wish me to.

But from you like no other,
I just know it'd be cool.
And deeper if you wanted it that way too!

Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
Or as deeply as you wish me to.
Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
And as deeply as you wish me to.
Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
Or as deeply as you wish me to.

But from you like no other,
I know it'd be cool.
And deeper if you wanted it that way too!

Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
As deeply as you wish me to.
Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
And as deeply as you wish me to.
Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
Or as deeply as you wish me to.
But from you like no other,
I know it'd be cool.
And deeper if you wanted it that way too!

Deeper if you wanted it that way too.

Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
Or,
Deeper if you wanted it that way too.

Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That-a Be Tops Of Cool

Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
As deeply as you wish me to.
Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
And as deeply as you wish me to.
Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
Or as deeply as you wish me to.

But from you like no other,
I just know it'd be cool.
And deeper if you wanted it that way too!

Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
Or as deeply as you wish me to.
Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
And as deeply as you wish me to.
Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
Or as deeply as you wish me to.

But from you like no other,
I know it'd be cool.
And deeper if you wanted it that way too!

Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
As deeply as you wish me to.
Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
And as deeply as you wish me to.
Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
Or as deeply as you wish me to.
But from you like no other,
I know it'd be cool.
And deeper if you wanted it that way too!

Deeper if you wanted it that way too.

Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?
Or,
Deeper if you wanted it that way too.

Can you tell I've never,
Trusted before?

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Diggina Ditch

Unto your dreaming,
When youre alone,
Unplug the tv,
Turn off the phone.
Get heavy on with diggin your ditch.
Cause Im digging a ditch,
Where madness gives.
Digging a ditch,
Where silence lives.
Digging a ditch,
For when Im old.
Digging a ditch,
Where stories told.
Where all these troubles,
That weigh down on me will rise,
Unto your dreaming,
When youre alone.
Where all these worries,
That hold heavy on my heart,
Will die, will die, will die...
Unto your dreaming,
When youre alone.
Unplug the tv,
Turn off the phone.
Get heavy on with diggin your ditch.
Cause Im digging a ditch,
Where madness gives.
Digging a ditch,
Where silence lives in here.
Digging a ditch,
And when Im through digging this ditch,
Ill dig in for you.
Where all these disappointments,
That grow angry out of me will die.
Where all these habits,
That hold heavy on my heart will die.
Unto your dreaming, when youre alone,
Not what youre sure be or what youve become,
Just getting heavy on with digging your ditch.
Cause Im digging a ditch,
Where madness gives again.
Im digging a ditch,
Where silence lives.
Where all these troubles that weigh down on me,
Will rise, will rise, will rise, will rise...
Unto your dreaming, when youre alone,
Unplug the tv,
Turn off the phone.
Get heavy on with digging your ditch.

song performed by Dave Matthews Band
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Four Seasons : Summer

From brightening fields of ether fair disclosed,
Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes,
In pride of youth, and felt through Nature's depth:
He comes attended by the sultry Hours,
And ever fanning breezes, on his way;
While, from his ardent look, the turning Spring
Averts her blushful face; and earth, and skies,
All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves.
Hence, let me haste into the mid-wood shade,
Where scarce a sunbeam wanders through the gloom;
And on the dark-green grass, beside the brink
Of haunted stream, that by the roots of oak
Rolls o'er the rocky channel, lie at large,
And sing the glories of the circling year.
Come, Inspiration! from thy hermit-seat,
By mortal seldom found: may Fancy dare,
From thy fix'd serious eye, and raptured glance
Shot on surrounding Heaven, to steal one look
Creative of the Poet, every power
Exalting to an ecstasy of soul.
And thou, my youthful Muse's early friend,
In whom the human graces all unite:
Pure light of mind, and tenderness of heart;
Genius, and wisdom; the gay social sense,
By decency chastised; goodness and wit,
In seldom-meeting harmony combined;
Unblemish'd honour, and an active zeal
For Britain's glory, liberty, and Man:
O Dodington! attend my rural song,
Stoop to my theme, inspirit every line,
And teach me to deserve thy just applause.
With what an awful world-revolving power
Were first the unwieldy planets launch'd along
The illimitable void! thus to remain,
Amid the flux of many thousand years,
That oft has swept the toiling race of men,
And all their labour'd monuments away,
Firm, unremitting, matchless, in their course;
To the kind-temper'd change of night and day,
And of the seasons ever stealing round,
Minutely faithful: such the All-perfect hand!
That poised, impels, and rules the steady whole.
When now no more the alternate Twins are fired,
And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze,
Short is the doubtful empire of the night;
And soon, observant of approaching day,
The meek'd-eyed Morn appears, mother of dews,
At first faint-gleaming in the dappled east:
Till far o'er ether spreads the widening glow;
And, from before the lustre of her face,

[...] Read more

poem by James Thomson
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Solomon

As thro' the Psalms from theme to theme I chang'd,
Methinks like Eve in Paradice I rang'd;
And ev'ry grace of song I seem'd to see,
As the gay pride of ev'ry season, she.
She gently treading all the walks around,
Admir'd the springing beauties of the ground,
The lilly glist'ring with the morning dew,
The rose in red, the violet in blew,
The pink in pale, the bells in purple rows,
And tulips colour'd in a thousand shows:
Then here and there perhaps she pull'd a flow'r
To strew with moss, and paint her leafy bow'r;
And here and there, like her I went along,
Chose a bright strain, and bid it deck my song.

But now the sacred Singer leaves mine eye,
Crown'd as he was, I think he mounts on high;
Ere this Devotion bore his heav'nly psalms,
And now himself bears up his harp and palms.
Go, saint triumphant, leave the changing sight,
So fitted out, you suit the realms of light;
But let thy glorious robe at parting go,
Those realms have robes of more effulgent show;
It flies, it falls, the flutt'ring silk I see,
Thy son has caught it and he sings like thee,
With such election of a theme divine,
And such sweet grace, as conquers all but thine.

Hence, ev'ry writer o'er the fabled streams,
Where frolick fancies sport with idle dreams,
Or round the sight enchanted clouds dispose,
Whence wanton cupids shoot with gilded bows;
A nobler writer, strains more brightly wrought,
Themes more exulted, fill my wond'ring thought:
The parted skies are track'd with flames above,
As love descends to meet ascending love;
The seasons flourish where the spouses meet,
And earth in gardens spreads beneath their feet.
This fresh-bloom prospect in the bosom throngs,
When Solomon begins his song of songs,
Bids the rap'd soul to Lebanon repair,
And lays the scenes of all his action there,
Where as he wrote, and from the bow'r survey'd
The scenting groves, or answ'ring knots he made,
His sacred art the sights of nature brings,
Beyond their use, to figure heav'nly things.

Great son of God! whose gospel pleas'd to throw
Round thy rich glory, veils of earthly show,
Who made the vineyard oft thy church design,

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Parnell
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Music

I

PRELUDE

Daughter of Psyche, pledge of that last night
When, pierced with pain and bitter-sweet delight,
She knew her Love and saw her Lord depart,
Then breathed her wonder and her woe forlorn
Into a single cry, and thou wast born?
Thou flower of rapture and thou fruit of grief;
Invisible enchantress of the heart;
Mistress of charms that bring relief
To sorrow, and to joy impart
A heavenly tone that keeps it undefiled,--
Thou art the child
Of Amor, and by right divine
A throne of love is thine,
Thou flower-folded, golden-girdled, star-crowned Queen,
Whose bridal beauty mortal eyes have never seen!

II

Thou art the Angel of the pool that sleeps,
While peace and joy lie hidden in its deeps,
Waiting thy touch to make the waters roll
In healing murmurs round the weary soul.
Ah, when wilt thou draw near,
Thou messenger of mercy robed in song?
My lonely heart has listened for thee long;
And now I seem to hear
Across the crowded market-place of life,
Thy measured foot-fall, ringing light and clear
Above the unmeaning noises and the unruly strife;
In quiet cadence, sweet and slow,
Serenely pacing to and fro,
Thy far-off steps are magical and dear.
Ah, turn this way, come close and speak to me!
>From this dull bed of languor set my spirit free,
And bid me rise, and let me walk awhile with thee

III

Where wilt thou lead me first?
In what still region
Of thy domain,
Whose provinces are legion,
Wilt thou restore me to myself again,
And quench my heart's long thirst?

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Van Dyke
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Your Own Disater

Just think of this and me,
as just a few of the many things,
to lie around and clutter up your shelves
I wish you wern't worht the wait
cos theres somthing id like to say to you
and i dont think that you knwo what you've been missing
and i dont think that you knwow hat you've been missing
and i dare you to forget
the marks oyu left across my neck
from those nights when we were both at our best
and now i could make this obvious
and you, you could deny me
all in one breath you could shug mr off your shoulders
cos i dont think that you know what oyuve been missing
and i dont hitnk that you knwo what you've been missing
cos i dont think that you,
i said i dont think that you know
cos i dont think that you know what youve been missing
hey lush, have fun
its the weekend
hey lush have fun
hey lush, have fun
its the weekend
hey lush have fun
(no i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
its the weekend
(no i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
(no i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
its the weekend
(forget me, its that simple)
(no i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
(forget me, its that simple)
(no i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
its the weekend
(forget me, its that simple)
(no i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
(forget me, its that simple)
(oh i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
its the weekend
(forget me, its that simple)
(no i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
(forget me, its that simple)

[...] Read more

song performed by Taking Back Sunday
Added by Lucian Velea
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Forget Me Not

My friend, never
Forget, forgotten me,
Forget and be forgotten.

Never forget
Our friendship,
Our relationship,
Our partnership.

Never forget
Our hope,
Our inspiration,
Our courage,
Our confidence.

Forget me not,
When we live separately,
When we out of sight,
When we out of mind,
When we out of sanity.

Forget yet remember me,
Forget yet forgive me,
Forget yet pray for me,
Forget yet call me.

Please forget me not.
Not to forget,
Your friend,
Your dream and vision,
Your ambition and success.

Forget me not,
Forget the No,
Forget the Maybe,
Forget the should be.

Think not to forget,
Think to remember,
Think to feel,
Think to say.

Forget, forgotten,
All bad things,
All bad deeds,
But forget me not.

poem by Lawrence Hiung
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The Hind And The Panther, A Poem In Three Parts : Part III.

Much malice, mingled with a little wit,
Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ;
Because the muse has peopled Caledon
With panthers, bears, and wolves, and beasts unknown,
As if we were not stocked with monsters of our own.
Let Æsop answer, who has set to view
Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew;
And Mother Hubbard, in her homely dress,
Has sharply blamed a British lioness;
That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep,
Exposed obscenely naked, and asleep.
Led by those great examples, may not I
The wonted organs of their words supply?
If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then
For brutes to claim the privilege of men.
Others our Hind of folly will indite,
To entertain a dangerous guest by night.
Let those remember, that she cannot die,
Till rolling time is lost in round eternity;
Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed,
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaimed;
The wary savage would not give offence,
To forfeit the protection of her prince;
But watched the time her vengeance to complete,
When all her furry sons in frequent senate met;
Meanwhile she quenched her fury at the flood,
And with a lenten salad cooled her blood.
Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing scant,
Nor did their minds an equal banquet want.
For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove
To express her plain simplicity of love,
Did all the honours of her house so well,
No sharp debates disturbed the friendly meal.
She turned the talk, avoiding that extreme,
To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme;
Remembering every storm which tossed the state,
When both were objects of the public hate,
And dropt a tear betwixt for her own children's fate.
Nor failed she then a full review to make
Of what the Panther suffered for her sake;
Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care,
Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir,
Her strength to endure, her courage to defy,
Her choice of honourable infamy.
On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged;
Then with acknowledgments herself she charged;
For friendship, of itself an holy tie,
Is made more sacred by adversity.
Now should they part, malicious tongues would say,
They met like chance companions on the way,

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Edge Of My Seat

Nothing more
That there's nothing more.
Nothing more
That there's nothing more.
Nothing here's the same, it's all a dream.
Life on the movie screen,
And Im sitting on the edge of my seat.
I can't tell what happens next, just what Ive seen.
I don't know what it means.
But Im holding on the edge of my seat.
'Cause I can't forget your name, forget your name.
Yeah I can't forget you now.
I know I can't forget you, girl.
I promise.
Sit back, buckle in, and hold on tight.
A roller coaster ride.
And, Im holding on the edge of my seat.
And I can't know for sure,
'Cause I just landed on your shore,
But I think you got nothing but another thing coming.
If you think there's nothing more,
That there's nothing more.
I can't forget your name, forget your name.
Yeah I can't forget you now.
I know I can't forget you girl.
I can't forget your name, forget your name.
Yeah, I can't forget you now.
I know I can't forget you, can't forget you, girl.
I can't forget your name, forget your name.
Yeah I can't forget you now.
I know I can't forget you, girl.

song performed by Switchfoot
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Litany of Lethe

O Lethe, hidden waters never dry,
We, all we weary and heavy-laden, cry,
O Lethe, let us find thee and forget!

--All we have sinnèd, and yet the scars remain.
--And we, all we had sorrow.--And we had pain.
O Lethe, let us find thee and forget!

Thou that dost flow from Death to Death through Sleep,
Whose waters are the tears of those that weep,
O Lethe, let us find thee and forget!

Thou that dost bring sweet peace to hospitals,
And to the captive openest prison-walls,
O Lethe, let us find thee and forget!

Thou that dost loose the soul from murdered Truth,
And youth from yesterday, and age from youth,
O Lethe, let us find thee and forget!

Thou from lost love remembered sett'st us free
From hopeless love, a lorn eternity;
O Lethe, let us find thee and forget!

Thou from repentance tak'st the sting, from vice
The memory of a forfeit Paradise;
O Lethe, let us find thee and forget!

Thou in our grief dost hide from us no less
The anguish of remembered happiness;
O Lethe, let us find thee and forget!

Thou that dost lay alike on all thy spell,
And free the saint from heaven, the wretch from hell,
O Lethe, let us find thee and forget!

Bring, bring soft sleep, and close all eyes for us,
Sleep without dreams, and peace oblivious;
O Lethe, let us find thee and forget!

We, all we weary and heavy-laden, cry,
Too tired to live, and yet too weak to die,
O Lethe, let us find thee and forget!

poem by Arthur Symons
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Where The River Flows

Music : rudolf schenker
Lyrics: klaus meine
Under suburban skies
Where life is bleeding
Where concrete skies are grey
Theres plenty of room for dreaming
I still keep coming here
Follow those traces
I travel back in time
Remember all those places
Feels like I never left
The houses still standing
Down by the river where
The dreams are never ending
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
Under the silent moon
This industrial city
Is heartland even though
Lifes been not that pretty
I still keep coming here
To that old river
To find my roots just where
The future lives forever
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me, you can find me
By the river where dreams will never die
By the river under suburban skies
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
By the river where dreams have never died
By the river I look through childrens eyes
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows

[...] Read more

song performed by Scorpions
Added by Lucian Velea
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