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Do not weep for me.

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Weep Day

I never went to the tropical island
Though everybody said they saw me there
And it wasnt me you punched a hole in
At the west german protest march
Simultaneous events dont happen
We are isolated temporally
And a part is never called the whole thing
Though it bothers us to know its so
Every man is made of two opinions
Every woman has a second half
And its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Yes, its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
I didnt write the words you hear me singing (didnt write the words you hear me singing)
I didnt sing the line before this one (didnt sing the line before this one)
You are not the one I was addressing (you are not the one I was addressing)
That person took a train to africa (africa)
Where he met the consulate from belgium
Who is now a buddhist in a cave
Who is pitching for the oakland raiders
Striking out the batter she became
Every man is made of two opinions
Every woman has a second half
And its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Yes, its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Yes, its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Weep day for urine man (weep day for urine man)
Weep day for urine man (weep day for urine man)
Weep day for urine man (weep day for urine man)
Weep day weep day
Weep day weep day
Weep day weep day
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)

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The Zenana

WHAT is there that the world hath not
Gathered in yon enchanted spot?
Where, pale, and with a languid eye,
The fair Sultana listlessly
Leans on her silken couch, and dreams
Of mountain airs, and mountain streams.
Sweet though the music float around,
It wants the old familiar sound;

And fragrant though the flowers are breathing,
From far and near together wreathing,
They are not those she used to wear,
Upon the midnight of her hair.—

She's very young, and childhood's days
With all their old remembered ways,
The empire of her heart contest
With love, that is so new a guest;
When blushing with her Murad near,
Half timid bliss, half sweetest fear,
E'en the beloved past is dim,
Past, present, future, merge in him.
But he, the warrior and the chief,
His hours of happiness are brief;
And he must leave Nadira's side
To woo and win a ruder bride;

Sought, sword in hand and spur on heel,
The fame, that weds with blood and steel.
And while from Delhi far away,
His youthful bride pines through the day,
Weary and sad: thus when again
He seeks to bind love's loosen'd chain;
He finds the tears are scarcely dry
Upon a cheek whose bloom is faded,
The very flush of victory
Is, like the brow he watches, shaded.
A thousand thoughts are at her heart,
His image paramount o'er all,
Yet not all his, the tears that start,
As mournful memories recall
Scenes of another home, which yet
That fond young heart can not forget.
She thinks upon that place of pride,
Which frowned upon the mountain's side;

While round it spread the ancient plain,
Her steps will never cross again.
And near those mighty temples stand,
The miracles of mortal hand,

[...] Read more

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A Rocking Hymn

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In this, thy frailty and thy need,

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Rosalind and Helen: a Modern Eclogue

ROSALIND, HELEN, and her Child.

SCENE. The Shore of the Lake of Como.

HELEN
Come hither, my sweet Rosalind.
'T is long since thou and I have met;
And yet methinks it were unkind
Those moments to forget.
Come, sit by me. I see thee stand
By this lone lake, in this far land,
Thy loose hair in the light wind flying,
Thy sweet voice to each tone of even
United, and thine eyes replying
To the hues of yon fair heaven.
Come, gentle friend! wilt sit by me?
And be as thou wert wont to be
Ere we were disunited?
None doth behold us now; the power
That led us forth at this lone hour
Will be but ill requited
If thou depart in scorn. Oh, come,
And talk of our abandoned home!
Remember, this is Italy,
And we are exiles. Talk with me
Of that our land, whose wilds and floods,
Barren and dark although they be,
Were dearer than these chestnut woods;
Those heathy paths, that inland stream,
And the blue mountains, shapes which seem
Like wrecks of childhood's sunny dream;
Which that we have abandoned now,
Weighs on the heart like that remorse
Which altered friendship leaves. I seek
No more our youthful intercourse.
That cannot be! Rosalind, speak,
Speak to me! Leave me not! When morn did come,
When evening fell upon our common home,
When for one hour we parted,--do not frown;
I would not chide thee, though thy faith is broken;
But turn to me. Oh! by this cherished token
Of woven hair, which thou wilt not disown,
Turn, as 't were but the memory of me,
And not my scornèd self who prayed to thee!

ROSALIND
Is it a dream, or do I see
And hear frail Helen? I would flee
Thy tainting touch; but former years
Arise, and bring forbidden tears;

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Read em & Weep

Ive been trying for hours just to think of what exactly to say
I thought Id leave you with a letter or firey speech
Like when an actor makes an exit at the end of a play
And Ive been dying for hours trying to fill up all the holes with some sense
Id like to know how you faded and you threw it away
Id like to give you all the reasons and what everything meant
Well I could tell you good-bye or maybe see you around
With just a touch of a sarcastic thanks
We started out with a bang and at the top of the world
Now the guns are exhausted and the bullets are blanks
And everythings blank
Chorus:
If I could find the words then I would write it all down
If I could only find a voice I would speak
Oh its there in my eyes so cant you see me tonight
Cmon and look at me and read em and weep
Chorus
Ive been whispering softly, trying to build a cry up to a scream
We let the past slip away, and put the future on hold
Now the present is nothing but a hollowed out dream
And Ive been dying for hours trying to fill up all the holes with some sense
Id like to know why you faded and you threw it away
Id like to give you all the reasons and what everything meant
Well I could tell you good-bye or maybe see you around
With just a touch of a sarcastic thanks
But now the rooms are all empty, the candles are dark
The guns are exhausted and the bullets are blanks, and everythings blank
Chorus
Its there in my eyes and coming straight from my heart
Its running silent and angry and deep
Its there in my eyes and its all I can say, cmon and read em and weep
Read em and weep - for all the hours well be spending alone
Read em and weep - for the dreams well ignore
Running silent and deep -
And all those promises we promised to keep, they wont be kept anymore
Read em and weep - for the magic that our bodies had made
Read em and weep - for the blood that we lost
Running silent and deep - and all the secrets that we somehow betrayed
For whatever the cost
Read em and weep - for the memories still alive in the bed
Read em and weep - for the lies we believed
Running silent and deep - and all the things that can never be said
Why dont you look at me and read em and weep
Cmon and look at me and read em and weep
Its there in my eyes and coming straight from my heart
Its running silent and angry and deep
Its here in my eyes and its all I can say
Cmon look at me and read em and weep

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The Undying One- Canto III

'THERE is a sound the autumn wind doth make
Howling and moaning, listlessly and low:
Methinks that to a heart that ought to break
All the earth's voices seem to murmur so.
The visions that crost
Our path in light--
The things that we lost
In the dim dark night--
The faces for which we vainly yearn--
The voices whose tones will not return--
That low sad wailing breeze doth bring
Borne on its swift and rushing wing.
Have ye sat alone when that wind was loud,
And the moon shone dim from the wintry cloud?
When the fire was quench'd on your lonely hearth,
And the voices were still which spoke of mirth?

If such an evening, tho' but one,
It hath been yours to spend alone--
Never,--though years may roll along
Cheer'd by the merry dance and song;
Though you mark'd not that bleak wind's sound before,
When louder perchance it used to roar--
Never shall sound of that wintry gale
Be aught to you but a voice of wail!
So o'er the careless heart and eye
The storms of the world go sweeping by;
But oh! when once we have learn'd to weep,
Well doth sorrow his stern watch keep.
Let one of our airy joys decay--
Let one of our blossoms fade away--
And all the griefs that others share
Seem ours, as well as theirs, to bear:
And the sound of wail, like that rushing wind
Shall bring all our own deep woe to mind!

'I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!

'I saw the inconstant lover come to take
Farewell of her he loved in better days,
And, coldly careless, watch the heart-strings break--
Which beat so fondly at his words of praise.
She was a faded, painted, guilt-bow'd thing,
Seeking to mock the hues of early spring,
When misery and years had done their worst

[...] Read more

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Weep Not Nigeria

Weep not Nigeria,
for justice is in the offing.
Weep not Nigeria,
for your cries resonate and ring.
Weep not Nigeria,
It's time for your African spring.
Weep not Nigeria,
none shall usurp your role as king.
Weep not Nigeria,
for soon in ecstasy you'll sing.
Weep not Nigeria,
for to towering heights you'll cling.
Weep not Nigeria,
and soar atop the eagle's wing.
Weep not Nigeria,
for your patience will gladness bring.
Weep not Nigeria,
it's time to sing the ding dong song.
Weep not Nigeria,
for your misery will not be long.
Weep not Nigeria,
for you are numbered with the strong.

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Weep No More

Mary, don't you weep no more
Mary, don't you weep no more
'Cuz, I got your letter today
Pack my bags and I'm on my way
So, don't you weep no more
Don't you weep no more
Dry your eyes
Don't you shed no tears
The sun is risin'
So, put away your fears
Cuz, I know I once done you wrong
I want to say I'm sorry
And I'm comin' back home
So, don't you weep no more
Don' t you weep no more
I hear your voice in the wind
And I feel your tears in the rain
Shadows of night are falling
Can't you hear me call your name
I'm comin' home
I'm comin' home
So, don't you weep
Don't you weep
Don't you weep
Don't you weep no more

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The Abencerrage : Canto III.

Heroes of elder days! untaught to yield,
Who bled for Spain on many an ancient field;
Ye, that around the oaken cross of yore
Stood firm and fearless on Asturia's shore,
And with your spirit, ne'er to be subdued,
Hallowed the wild Cantabrian solitude;
Rejoice amidst your dwellings of repose,
In the last chastening of your Moslem foes!
Rejoice! - for Spain, arising in her strength,
Hath burst the remnant of their yoke at length,
And they, in turn, the cup of woe must drain,
And bathe their fetters with their tears in vain.
And thou, the warrior
born in happy hour,

Valencia's lord, whose name alone was power,
Theme of a thousand songs in days gone by,
Conqueror of kings! exult, O Cid! on high.
For still 'twas thine to guard thy country's weal,
In life, in death, the watcher for Castile!

Thou, in that hour when Mauritania's bands
Rushed from their palmy groves and burning lands,
E'en in the realm of spirits didst retain
A patriot's vigilance, remembering Spain!
Then, at deep midnight, rose the mighty sound,
By Leon heard, in shuddering awe profound,
As through her echoing streets, in dread array,
Beings, once mortal, held their viewless way:
Voices from worlds we know not - and the tread
Of marching hosts, the armies of the dead,
Thou and thy buried chieftains - from the grave
Then did thy summons rouse a king to save,
And join thy warriors with unearthly might
To aid the rescue in Tolosa's fight.
Those days are past - the crescent on thy shore,
O realm of evening! sets, to rise no more.
What banner of streams afar from Vela's tower?
The cross, bright ensign of Iberia's power!
What the glad shout of each exulting voice?
Castile and Aragon! rejoice, rejoice!
Yielding free entrance to victorious foes,
The Moorish city sees her gates unclose,
And Spain's proud host, with pennon, shield, and lance,
Through her long streets in knightly garb advance.

Oh! ne'er in lofty dreams hath Fancy's eye
Dwelt on a scene of statelier pageantry,
At joust or tourney, theme of poet's lore,
High masque, or solemn festival of yore.

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The Braes of Yarrow

‘BUSK ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie bride!
Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow!
Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie bride!
And think nae mair on the braes of Yarrow!’

‘Where got ye that bonnie, bonnie bride?
Where got ye that winsome marrow?’
‘I got her where I durst not well be seen—
Pu’ing the birks on the braes of Yarrow.’

Weep not, weep not, my bonnie, bonnie bride!
Weep not, weep not, my winsome marrow!
Nor let thy heart lament to leave
Pu’ing the birks on the braes of Yarrow.’

‘Why does she weep, thy bonnie, bonnie bride?
Why does she weep, thy winsome marrow?
And why dare ye nae mair weel be seen
Pu’ing the birks on the braes of Yarrow?’

‘Lang maun she weep, lang maun she, maun she weep,
Lang maun she weep with dule and sorrow;
And lang maun I nae weel be seen
Pu’ing the birks on the braes of Yarrow.

For she has tint her lover, lover dear—
Her lover dear, the cause of sorrow;
And I have slain the comeliest swain
That ever pu’ed birks on the braes of Yarrow.

‘Why runs thy stream O Yarrow, Yarrow, reid?
Why on thy braes is heard the voice of sorrow?
And why yon melancholious weeds
Hung on the bonnie birks of Yarrow.

‘What’s yonder floats on the rueful, rueful flood?
What’s yonder floats? O dule and sorrow!
’Tis he, the comely swain I slew
Upon the duleful braes of Yarrow.

‘Wash, O wash his wounds, his wounds in tears,
His wounds in tears of dule and sorrow;
And wrap his limbs in mourning weeds,
And lay him on the braes of Yarrow.

‘Then build, then build, ye sisters, sisters sad,
Ye sisters sad, his tomb with sorrow:
And weep around, in woeful wise,
His hapless fate on the braes of Yarrow.

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Willow Weep For Me

Yes, willow weep for me
Willow weep for me
Bend your branches green along the stream that runs to sea
Listen to my plea
Listen willow and weep for me
Yes, gone my lovers dream
Lovely summer dream
Gone and left me here to weep my tears into the stream
Sad as I can be
Hear me willow and weep for me
Oh, whisper to the wind and say that loves a sin
Leave my heart a-breaking, and making a moan
Murmur to the night to hide her starry light
So none will find me sighing, crying all alone
Oh, willow weep tree
Weeping sympathy
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me
When the shadows fall, bend over willow and weep for me

Whisper to the wind and say that love is sin
Leave my heart a-breaking, and making a moan
Murmur to the night to hide her starry light
So none will find me sighing and crying all alone
Yes, willow weep tree
Weeping sympathy
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me
When the shadows fall, bend over willow and weep for me
Yes

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Willow Weep For Me

(1932) ann ronell
Willow weep for me, willow weep for me,
Bend your branches green along the stream that runs to sea,
Listen to my plea, listen willow weep for me,
Gone my lovers dream, lovely summer dream,
Gone and left me here to weep my tears into the stream,
Sad as I can be - hear me willow and weep for me.
Whisper to the wind to say that love has sinned
To leave my heart aching and making this moan,
Murmur to the night to hide her starry light,
So none will find me sighing and crying all alone,
Weeping willow tree, weep in sympathy,
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me,
When the shadows fall, bend oh willow and weep for me.
To leave my heart aching and making this moan,
So none will find me sighing and crying all alone,
Weeping willow tree, weep in sympathy,
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me,
When the shadows fall, bend oh willow,
Bend oh willow and weep for me.

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Weep Not For Him That Dieth

I.

WEEP not for him that dieth--
For he sleeps, and is at rest;
And the couch whereon he lieth
Is the green earth's quiet breast:
But weep for him who pineth
On a far land's hateful shore,
Who wearily declineth
Where ye see his face no more!
II.

Weep not for him that dieth,
For friends are round his bed,
And many a young lip sigheth
When they name the early dead;
But weep for him that liveth
Where none will know or care,
When the groan his faint heart giveth
Is the last sigh of despair.
III.

Weep not for him that dieth,
For his struggling soul is free,
And the world from which it flieth
Is a world of misery;
But weep for him that weareth
The captive's galling chain:
To the agony he beareth,
Death were but little pain.
IV.

Weep not for him that dieth,
For he hath ceased from tears,
And a voice to his replieth
Which he hath not heard for years;
But weep for him who weepeth
On that cold land's cruel shore--
Blest, blest is he that sleepeth,--
Weep for the dead no more!

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The Abencerrage : Canto I.

Lonely and still are now thy marble halls,
Thou fair Alhambra! there the feast is o'er;
And with the murmur of thy fountain-falls,
Blend the wild tones of minstrelsy no more.

Hushed are the voices that in years gone by
Have mourned, exulted, menaced, through thy towers,
Within thy pillared courts the grass waves high,
And all uncultured bloom thy fairy bowers.

Unheeded there the flowering myrtle blows,
Through tall arcades unmarked the sunbeam smiles,
And many a tint of softened brilliance throws
O'er fretted walls and shining peristyles.

And well might Fancy deem thy fabrics lone,
So vast, so silent, and so wildly fair,
Some charmed abode of beings all unknown,
Powerful and viewless, children of the air.

For there no footstep treads the enchanted ground,
There not a sound the deep repose pervades,
Save winds and founts, diffusing freshness round,
Through the light domes and graceful colonnades.

For other tones have swelled those courts along,
In days romance yet fondly loves to trace;
The clash of arms, the voice of choral song,
The revels, combats, of a vanished race.

And yet awhile, at Fancy's potent call,
Shall rise that race, the chivalrous, the bold;
Peopling once more each fair, forsaken hall,
With stately forms, the knights and chiefs of old.

- The sun declines - upon Nevada's height
There dwells a mellow flush of rosy light;
Each soaring pinnacle of mountain snow
Smiles in the richness of that parting glow,
And Darro's wave reflects each passing dye
That melts and mingles in the empurpled sky.
Fragrance, exhaled from rose and citron bower,
Blends with the dewy freshness of the hour:
Hushed are the winds, and Nature seems to sleep
In light and stillness; wood, and tower, and steep,
Are dyed with tints of glory, only given
To the rich evening of a southern heaven;
Tints of the sun, whose bright farewell is fraught
With all that art hath dreamt, but never caught.
-Yes, Nature sleeps; but not with her at rest

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Free People

Some may admit they wish another lover.
Although they've suffered and have since recovered.
Some may admit they wish another lover.
And many underestimate the cost,
The feeling of a loss.

Free people weep alone when undercovers,
Wanting to be held.
Free people weep alone when they discover,
Moaning known too well.
Free people weep alone when undercovers,
Wanting to be held...
Inside when they hide alone,
And there all by themselves.

Some may admit they wish another lover,
But they really don't.
They miss the suffering and being smothered,
By somebody known.
And just to have another troubled lover,
There to condone...
Isn't worth the heartache or the tears that are shown.

Free people weep alone when undercovers,
Wanting to be held.
Free people weep alone when they discover,
Moaning known too well.
Free people weep alone when undercovers,
Wanting to be held...
Inside when they hide alone,
And there all by themselves.

Free people weep alone when undercovers,
Wanting to be held.
Free people weep alone when they discover,
Moaning known too well.
Free people weep alone when undercovers,
Wanting to be held...
Inside when they hide alone,
And there all by themselves.

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Adonais

I weep for Adonais -he is dead!
O, weep for Adonais! though our tears
Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head!
And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years
To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers,
And teach them thine own sorrow, say: "With me
Died Adonais; till the Future dares
Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be
An echo and a light unto eternity!"

Where wert thou, mighty Mother, when he lay,
When thy Son lay, pierced by the shaft which flies
In darkness? where was lorn Urania
When Adonais died? With veiled eyes,
Mid listening Echoes, in her Paradise
She sate, while one, with soft enamoured breath,
Rekindled all the fading melodies
With which, like flowers that mock the corse beneath,
He had adorned and hid the coming bulk of death.

O, weep for Adonais -he is dead!
Wake, melancholy Mother, wake and weep!
Yet wherefore? Quench within their burning bed
Thy fiery tears, and let thy loud heart keep
Like his, a mute and uncomplaining sleep;
For he is gone, where all things wise and fair
Descend; -oh, dream not that the amorous Deep
Will yet restore him to the vital air;
Death feeds on his mute voice, and laughs at our despair.

Most musical of mourners, weep again!
Lament anew, Urania! -He died,
Who was the Sire of an immortal strain,
Blind, old, and lonely, when his country's pride,
The priest, the slave, and the liberticide
Trampled and mocked with many a loathed rite
Of lust and blood; he went, unterrified,
Into the gulf of death; but his clear Sprite
Yet reigns o'er earth; the third among the sons of light.

Most musical of mourners, weep anew!
Not all to that bright station dared to climb;
And happier they their happiness who knew,
Whose tapers yet burn through that night of time
In which suns perished; others more sublime,
Struck by the envious wrath of man or god,
Have sunk, extinct in their refulgent prime;
And some yet live, treading the thorny road
Which leads, through toil and hate, to Fame's serene abode.

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All Alone

I.

Ah! wherefore by the Church-yard side,
Poor little LORN ONE, dost thou stray?
Thy wavy locks but thinly hide
The tears that dim thy blue-eye's ray;
And wherefore dost thou sigh, and moan,
And weep, that thou art left alone?


II.

Thou art not left alone, poor boy,
The Trav'ller stops to hear thy tale;
No heart, so hard, would thee annoy!
For tho' thy mother's cheek is pale
And withers under yon grave stone,
Thou art not, Urchin, left alone.


III.

I know thee well ! thy yellow hair
In silky waves I oft have seen;
Thy dimpled face, so fresh and fair,
Thy roguish smile, thy playful mien
Were all to me, poor Orphan, known,
Ere Fate had left thee--all alone!


IV.

Thy russet coat is scant, and torn,
Thy cheek is now grown deathly pale!
Thy eyes are dim, thy looks forlorn,
And bare thy bosom meets the gale;
And oft I hear thee deeply groan,
That thou, poor boy, art left alone.


V.

Thy naked feet are wounded sore
With thorns, that cross thy daily road;
The winter winds around thee roar,
The church-yard is thy bleak abode;
Thy pillow now, a cold grave stone--
And there thou lov'st to grieve--alone!

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Weep not, Brokenhearted

Let's attempt to foil
A possible emotional turmoil
Our tempers have been set to boil

Shame! You blame
The very existence of my name
For the aftermath of our fun game
I feel the same, I feel the same

Weep not, Brokenhearted
Weep! Weep! Not

You insisted you wanted only fun
Today you talk of me as if a con
Now that your heart is worn and torn

Weep not, Brokenhearted
Weep! Weep! Not

I thought fun for a couple of days
After we’ll go our separate ways
I simply cannot understand
How I have led you astray

You said the words, you needed fun, you were bored

Weep not, Brokenhearted
Weep! Weep! Not

Once you sung the words to your song
I locked my heart with a key
Threw it away, so of you I would be free

Copyright 2006 -Sylvia Chidi

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Weep For The Child

Hey you, do you ever cry - for the child?
Falling in love with strangers, feeling incomplete, hey thats me
Some are fly, some are shy, some are acting like they own the street, ooh
One minute were together then the next youre acting really cool, so cool
You can play me any way but dont ever treat me like a fool, no no no
Sometimes so hateful
Sometimes so shy
Dont ask me why
Weep for the child
Better raise your hand
Were twisting the style
Aint no need to understand
Dont leave me alone to make it tonight
No dont go
Wearing your desperation wrapped me on your sleeve, yes you do
Youve got everything you want but you just cant get the things that you need, oh no no no
Sometimes you fake it
Sometimes you lie
Dont ask me why
Weep for the child
Better raise your hand, raise your hand
Were twisting the style
Aint no need to understand
Dont leave me alone to make it tonight, no no no
Sweet baby
You never understood
You never treat me right
Weep for the child
Better raise your hand, raise your hand
Were twisting the style
Aint no need to understand, do you understand?
Dont leave me alone to make it tonight, yeah
Weep for the child
Weep
Weep
Weep
In your heart
Weep for the child
Better raise your hand, raise your hand
Were twisting the style
Aint no need to understand, no need
Dont leave me alone to make it
Alone to make it
Alone to make it tonight

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The Undying One - Canto II

'YEARS pass'd away in grief--and I,
For her dear sake whose heart could feel no more,
The sweetness and the witchery of love,
Which round my spirit such deep charm had wove:
And the dim twilight, and the noonday sky,
The fountain's music, the rich brilliancy
Of Nature in her summer--all became
To me a joyless world--an empty name--
And the heart's beating, and the flush'd fond thought
Of human sympathy, no longer brought
The glow of joy to this o'er-wearied breast,
Where hope like some tired pilgrim sank to rest.
The forms of beauty which my pathway cross'd
Seem'd but dim visions of my loved and lost,

Floating before me to arouse in vain
Deep yearnings, for what might not come again,
Tears without aim or end, and lonely sighs,
To which earth's echoes only gave replies.
* * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * *
And I departed--once again to be
Roaming the desert earth and trackless sea:
Amongst men; but not with them: still alone
Mid crowds, unnamed--unnoticed--and unknown.
I wander'd on--and the loud shout went forth
Of Liberty, from all the peopled world,
Like a dark watch-word breathing south and north
Where'er the green turf grew, or billow curl'd;
And when I heard it, something human stirr'd
Within my miserable breast, and lo!
With the wild struggling of a captive bird;
My strong soul burst its heavy chain of woe.
I rose and battled with the great and brave,
Dared the dark fight upon the stormy wave.--
From the swarth climes, where sunshine loves to rest,
To the green islands of the chilly west,
Where'er a voice was raised in Freedom's name,
There sure and swift my eager footstep came.
And bright dreams fired my soul--How sweet will be
To me the hour of burning victory!

When the oppressor ceaseth to oppress,
And this sad name the tortured nations bless:
When tyranny beneath my sword shall bend,
And the freed earth shall turn and own me for her friend!
* * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * *
Where Rome's proud eagle, which is now a name,
Spread forth its wings of glory to the sky;

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