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Can you hear the sandman....

on his trapeze swinging
taking flight in moonlight

winging

journey set, pulse dreaming
sandman with gentle fingers

caressing....

`

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Mister Sandman

Mister sandman
(pat ballard)
Mister sandman, bring me a dream
Make him the cutest that Ive ever seen
Give him two lips like roses and clover
Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over
Sandman, Im so alone
Dont have nobody to call my own
Please turn on your magic beam
Mister sandman, bring me a dream
Mister sandman, bring me a dream
Make him the cutest that Ive ever seen
Give him the word that Im not a rover
Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over
Sandman, Im so alone
Dont have nobody to call my own
Please turn on your magic beam
Mister sandman, bring me a dream
Mister sandman, bring us a dream
Give him a pair of eyes with a come hither gleam
Give him a lonely heart like pagliacci
And lots of wavy hair like liberace
Mister sandman, someone to hold
Would be so peachy before were too old
Sp please turn on your magic beam
Mister sandman, bring us
Please, please, please
Mister sandman, bring us a dream (pat ballard)

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Mr. Sandman

(Pat Ballard)
Mister Sandman, bring me a dream
Make him the cutest that I've ever seen
Give him two lips like roses and clover
Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over.
Sandman, I'm so alone
Don't have nobody to call my own
Please turn on your magic beam
Mister Sandman, bring me a dream.
Mister Sandman, bring me a dream
Make him the cutest that I've ever seen
Give him the word that I'm not a rover
Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over.
Sandman, I'm so alone
Don't have nobody to call my own
Please turn on your magic beam
Mister Sandman, bring me a dream,
Mister Sandman, bring us a dream
Give him a pair of eyes with a come hither gleam
Give him a lonely heart like Pagliacci
And lots of wavy hair like Liberace.
Mister Sandman, someone to hold
Would be so peachy before we're too old
Sp please turn on your magic beam
Mister Sandman, bring us
Please, please, please
Mister Sandman, bring us a dream...

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Dreaming As The Tears Fall.

Dreaming of happy days.
Dreaming of that longing gaze.
Dreaming of that perfect embrace.
I'm dreaming of love always.
The greatest gift one could give.

Loneliness speaks of my weakness.
Vulnerabilities open like a wound so sore.
A tear dropp falls forevermore.

Dreaming of happy days.
Dreaming of that longing gaze.
Dreaming of that perfect embrace.
I'm dreaming of love always.
The greatest gift one could give.

I feel so abandon by everyone.
I feel like no one cares.
I feel, I feel, I feel so much pain.
Please tell me why I am still here.
A purpose should never disappear.

Dreaming of happy days.
Dreaming of that longing gaze.
Dreaming of that perfect embrace.
I'm dreaming of love always.
The greatest gift one could give.

Loneliness speaks of my weakness.
Vulnerabilities open like a wound so sore.
A tear dropp falls forevermore.

Loneliness speaks of my weakness.
Vulnerabilities open like a wound so sore.
A tear dropp falls forevermore.

Dreaming of happy days.
Dreaming of that longing gaze.
Dreaming of that perfect embrace.
I'm dreaming of love always.
The greatest gift one could give.

I remember the past so vividly.
But still it isn't now.
A singled out cloud.
The sun is burning him out.
Oh how he wishes darkness would surround.

Dreaming of happy days.
Dreaming of that longing gaze.

[...] Read more

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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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Between Dark Past and Future Flight

Between dark past and future flight
Effect and Cause we question quite,
rhyme time between midnight and noon
to read, mark, learn, digest this tune.
Soul travels far, ka’s second sight
scouts out from dune to blue lagoon -
with moral codes plays fey buffoon.

Between dark past and future flight
the butterfly finds wings for flight
although, in silk spin knit cocoon,
it knows not dawn from afternoon.
Mind mirage magic may excite
confusing notions – far and soon
merge premonition’s present boon.

Between dark past and future flight
trace space, expand and pace delight ~
from morn till midnight one should learn
to seed born insight, harvest earn,
bend to contentment very soon
ends, means, all harmonies attune
heart, soul, which whole from parts return.


Between dark past and future flight
now ‘stalac_might’ checks stalag tight
mankind evolved from the baboon
to trace his race pace picayune.
between the darkness and the light
most squander chances opportune
dreams rose themed spurned, they haste to tomb.
Vague contexts blurred, restrictions fight
unshadowed vision full, shy moon
casts spell whose pull’s forgot by noon.


Between dark past and future flight
The wheel spins on, ignores ‘wrong’, ‘right’
As light, dark, rainbow’s ark all churn
fear not fall near, nor rise call spurn.
Sandman plays game outside luck, blight,
for more than intellect's harpoon.
Hope blooms, may anguish, heartache, prune.

Between dark past and future flight
oft ‘Justice’ seems a notion quite
outside God’s scheme - ‘on joue le clown’
play insecurity immune
while mocking empty social rite

[...] Read more

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The highwayman

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh.
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard.
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred.
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened. His face was white and peaked.
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter.
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."


He rose upright in the stirrups. He scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(O, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

PART TWO

He did not come in the dawning. He did not come at noon;
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—

[...] Read more

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[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!

O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]

POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR

POEMS

1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song

[...] Read more

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Give Your Heart To The Hawks

1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass

Under the old trees with rosy fruit.

In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a

basket,

The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.

Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.

Fayne snatched for it and missed;


Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small

Finely cut features in a dance of delight;

Fayne with one sweep flung at his face

All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,

[...] Read more

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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

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The Plea Of The Midsummer Fairies

I

'Twas in that mellow season of the year
When the hot sun singes the yellow leaves
Till they be gold,—and with a broader sphere
The Moon looks down on Ceres and her sheaves;
When more abundantly the spider weaves,
And the cold wind breathes from a chillier clime;—
That forth I fared, on one of those still eves,
Touch'd with the dewy sadness of the time,
To think how the bright months had spent their prime,


II

So that, wherever I address'd my way,
I seem'd to track the melancholy feet
Of him that is the Father of Decay,
And spoils at once the sour weed and the sweet;—
Wherefore regretfully I made retreat
To some unwasted regions of my brain,
Charm'd with the light of summer and the heat,
And bade that bounteous season bloom again,
And sprout fresh flowers in mine own domain.


III

It was a shady and sequester'd scene,
Like those famed gardens of Boccaccio,
Planted with his own laurels evergreen,
And roses that for endless summer blow;
And there were fountain springs to overflow
Their marble basins,—and cool green arcades
Of tall o'erarching sycamores, to throw
Athwart the dappled path their dancing shades,—
With timid coneys cropping the green blades.


IV

And there were crystal pools, peopled with fish,
Argent and gold; and some of Tyrian skin,
Some crimson-barr'd;—and ever at a wish
They rose obsequious till the wave grew thin
As glass upon their backs, and then dived in,
Quenching their ardent scales in watery gloom;
Whilst others with fresh hues row'd forth to win
My changeable regard,—for so we doom
Things born of thought to vanish or to bloom.

[...] Read more

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Stop That Gentle Rocking Of My Cradle

Stop that gentle rocking of my cradle.
Stop that gentle rocking of my cradle.
Stop that gentle rocking of my cradle.
Stop that gentle rocking,
Will you stop that gentle rocking.
Will you stop that gentle rocking of my cradle.

Children now programmed to download.
Stop that gentle rocking of my cradle.
Children now exposed and overdosed...
On,
Crime...
Treason!
And...
Denial.

Stop that gentle rocking of my cradle.
Stop that gentle rocking of my cradle.
Stop that gentle rocking of my cradle.
Stop that gentle rocking,
Will you stop that gentle rocking.
Will you stop that gentle rocking of my cradle.

Children now programmed to download.
Stop that gentle rocking of my cradle.
Children now exposed and overdosed...
On,
Crime...
Treason!
And...
Denial.

Stop that gentle rocking of my cradle.
Children now exposed and overdosed...
Stop that gentle rocking of my cradle.
On,
Stop that gentle rocking of my cradle.
Crime...
Stop that gentle rocking of my cradle.
Treason!
And...
Denial.

Zzzzz
Zzzzz
Oo ooh,
Poppa why you sleepin' so long?
Ooooh,
Poppa why you sleepin' so long?
Zzzzz

[...] Read more

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If Im Dreaming My Life

Was she never there
Was she ever
Was it air she breathed
At the wrong time
Oh ho
Oh ho
Oh ho
Oh ho
All the flowers so
From the gallery
With the hymns of night
Singing come to me
At the wrong time
On the wrong day
All the lights are fading now
If Im dreaming all my life
Just one living chance
When the mother sighs
When the father steps aside
At the wrong time
Oh ho
Oh ho
Was she never here
Was she ever
Was it air she breathed
At the wrong time
On the wrong day
All the lights are fading now
If Im dreaming all my life
If Im dreaming all my life
Was she ever
Was she ever here
If Im dreaming all my life
If Im dreaming all my life away
Dreaming my life
Dreaming my
Dreaming my
Dreaming my
Dreaming my life
Dreaming my life, away (oh ho)
Dreaming my life
Dreaming my
Dreaming my life, away (oh ho)
Dreaming my life
Dreaming my
Dreaming my life, away (oh ho)
Dreaming my life
Dreaming my
Dreaming my life, away (oh ho)
Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho

[...] Read more

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Dreaming From The Waist

I feel like I want to break out of the house
I feel like I want to break out of the house
My heart is a-pumping, Ive got sand in my mouth
My heart is a-pumping, Ive got sand in my mouth
I feel like Im heading up to a cardiac arrest
I feel like Im heading up to a cardiac arrest
I want to scream in the night, I want a manifest
I want to scream in the night, I want a manifest
Ive got that wide awake, give-and-take, five oclock-in-the-morning feeling
Ive got that wide awake, give-and-take, five oclock-in-the-morning feeling
Ive got the hots for the sluts in the well thumbed pages of a magazine
Ive got the hots for the sluts in the well thumbed pages of a magazine
I want to drive, want to fly like I do in the dreams Ive never really been in
I want to drive, want to fly like I do in the dreams Ive never really been in
I want to hump, want to jump, want to heat up, cool down in a dream machine
I want to hump, want to jump, want to heat up, cool down in a dream machine
Im dreaming ... from the waist on down
Im dreaming ... from the waist on down
Im dreaming ... but I feel tired and bound
Im dreaming ... but I feel tired and bound
Im dreaming ... of a day when a cold shower helps my health
Im dreaming ... of a day when a cold shower helps my health
Im dreaming ... dreaming - of the day I can control myself
Im dreaming ... dreaming - of the day I can control myself
Day I can control myself
Day I can control myself
Sound like a priest and then Im shooting dice
Sound like a priest and then Im shooting dice
Im burning tires with some guy whose hair is turning white
Im burning tires with some guy whose hair is turning white
I know the girls that I pass, they just aint impressed
I know the girls that I pass, they just aint impressed
Im too old to give up, but too young to rest
Im too old to give up, but too young to rest
Ive got that numb-to-a-thumb over-dubbed
Ive got that numb-to-a-thumb over-dubbed
Feeling social when the world is sleeping
Feeling social when the world is sleeping
The plot starts to thicken then I sicken and I feel Im cemented down
The plot starts to thicken then I sicken and I feel Im cemented down
Im so juiced that the whorey ladys sad sad story has me quietly weeping
Im so juiced that the whorey ladys sad sad story has me quietly weeping
But here comes the morning
But here comes the morning
Here comes the yawning demented clown
Here comes the yawning demented clown
Im dreaming ... but I know its all hot air
Im dreaming ... but I know its all hot air
Im dreaming ... Ill get back to that rocking chair
Im dreaming ... Ill get back to that rocking chair

[...] Read more

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Amy Lowell

The Cremona Violin

Part First

Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door.
A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind
Swirled through the trees, and scattered leaves before
Her on the clean, flagged path. The sky behind
The distant town was black, and sharp defined
Against it shone the lines of roofs and towers,
Superimposed and flat like cardboard flowers.

A pasted city on a purple ground,
Picked out with luminous paint, it seemed. The cloud
Split on an edge of lightning, and a sound
Of rivers full and rushing boomed through bowed,
Tossed, hissing branches. Thunder rumbled loud
Beyond the town fast swallowing into gloom.
Frau Altgelt closed the windows of each room.

She bustled round to shake by constant moving
The strange, weird atmosphere. She stirred the fire,
She twitched the supper-cloth as though improving
Its careful setting, then her own attire
Came in for notice, tiptoeing higher and higher
She peered into the wall-glass, now adjusting
A straying lock, or else a ribbon thrusting

This way or that to suit her. At last sitting,
Or rather plumping down upon a chair,
She took her work, the stocking she was knitting,
And watched the rain upon the window glare
In white, bright drops. Through the black glass a flare
Of lightning squirmed about her needles. 'Oh!'
She cried. 'What can be keeping Theodore so!'

A roll of thunder set the casements clapping.
Frau Altgelt flung her work aside and ran,
Pulled open the house door, with kerchief flapping
She stood and gazed along the street. A man
Flung back the garden-gate and nearly ran
Her down as she stood in the door. 'Why, Dear,
What in the name of patience brings you here?

Quick, Lotta, shut the door, my violin
I fear is wetted. Now, Dear, bring a light.
This clasp is very much too worn and thin.
I'll take the other fiddle out to-night
If it still rains. Tut! Tut! my child, you're quite
Clumsy. Here, help me, hold the case while I -
Give me the candle. No, the inside's dry.

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Free Flight

Head on down the highway
Across the county line,
Ive had my fill of small town thrills
Gonna leave it all behind.
Free flight, free flight.
Im careless in my loving,
Shameless in my style,
If I get caught by the short n curlies
Ill just hide out for awhile.
Free flight, free flight.
On an on the road goes on
Itll go on forever,
An just the same Ill live my life,
Hell bent for leather.
Free flight, free flight.
Heaven knows its driving me crazy,
Its a feeling inside.
Heaven knows its in my blood
As long as I try, I just cant deny.
Free flight, come tomorrow dawn youll find me gone.
Free flight, make no bones about it, Im moving on.
Free flight, free flight, free flight.
Free flight, free flight, free flight.
Head on down the highway
Suitcase in your hand,
When you get down with your feet on the ground
I know youll understand.
Free flight, free flight.
Heaven knows its driving me crazy,
Its a feeling thats driving me wild.
Heaven knows its in my blood,
Fool if you try, you just cant deny.
Free flight, come tomorrow dawn youll find me gone.
Free flight, make no bones about it, Im moving on.
(solo)
Free flight, free flight, free flight...

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The Dream

'TWAS summer eve; the changeful beams still play'd
On the fir-bark and through the beechen shade;
Still with soft crimson glow'd each floating cloud;
Still the stream glitter'd where the willow bow'd;
Still the pale moon sate silent and alone,
Nor yet the stars had rallied round her throne;
Those diamond courtiers, who, while yet the West
Wears the red shield above his dying breast,
Dare not assume the loss they all desire,
Nor pay their homage to the fainter fire,
But wait in trembling till the Sun's fair light
Fading, shall leave them free to welcome Night!

So when some Chief, whose name through realms afar
Was still the watchword of succesful war,
Met by the fatal hour which waits for all,
Is, on the field he rallied, forced to fall,
The conquerors pause to watch his parting breath,
Awed by the terrors of that mighty death;
Nor dare the meed of victory to claim,
Nor lift the standard to a meaner name,
Till every spark of soul hath ebb'd away,
And leaves what was a hero, common clay.

Oh! Twilight! Spirit that dost render birth
To dim enchantments; melting Heaven with Earth,
Leaving on craggy hills and rumning streams
A softness like the atmosphere of dreams;
Thy hour to all is welcome! Faint and sweet
Thy light falls round the peasant's homeward feet,
Who, slow returning from his task of toil,
Sees the low sunset gild the cultured soil,
And, tho' such radliance round him brightly glows,
Marks the small spark his cottage window throws.
Still as his heart forestals his weary pace,
Fondly he dreams of each familiar face,
Recalls the treasures of his narrow life,
His rosy children, and his sunburnt wife,

To whom his coming is the chief event
Of simple days in cheerful labour spent.
The rich man's chariot hath gone whirling past,
And those poor cottagers have only cast
One careless glance on all that show of pride,
Then to their tasks turn'd quietly aside;
But him they wait for, him they welcome home,
Fond sentinels look forth to see him come;
The fagot sent for when the fire grew dim,
The frugal meal prepared, are all for him;
For him the watching of that sturdy boy,

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Rhythmistic Pulse

One, two, three...
Rhythmistic pulse.
Rhythmistic pulse.
Rhythmistic pulse.
Rhythmistic pulse.
Rhythmistic people...
Feel within a flow of a beat,
With a rhythm pulsed.
With a rhythm pulsed.

Rhythmistic people...
Find it easy patting their feet,
With a rhythm pulsed.
With a rhythm pulsed.
And...
Harmonizing with a life that's reached,
For the sounds of nature.
With a rhythm pulsed.

Rhythmistic people...
Feel within a flow of a beat,
With a rhythm pulsed.
With a rhythm pulsed.
And...
Harmonizing with a life that's reached,
For the sounds of nature.

One, two, three...
Rhythmistic pulse.
Rhythmistic pulse.
And...
Harmonizing with a life that's reached,
For the sounds of nature.
With a rhythm pulsed.

And...
Harmonizing with a life that's reached,
For the sounds of nature.

One, two, three...
Rhythmistic pulse.
Rhythmistic pulse.
Rhythmistic pulse.
Rhythmistic,
One, two, three...
Rhythmistic pulse.
Rhythmistic pulse.
Rhythmistic pulse.
Rhythmistic,
One, two, three...

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John Keats

Endymion: Book II

O Sovereign power of love! O grief! O balm!
All records, saving thine, come cool, and calm,
And shadowy, through the mist of passed years:
For others, good or bad, hatred and tears
Have become indolent; but touching thine,
One sigh doth echo, one poor sob doth pine,
One kiss brings honey-dew from buried days.
The woes of Troy, towers smothering o'er their blaze,
Stiff-holden shields, far-piercing spears, keen blades,
Struggling, and blood, and shrieks--all dimly fades
Into some backward corner of the brain;
Yet, in our very souls, we feel amain
The close of Troilus and Cressid sweet.
Hence, pageant history! hence, gilded cheat!
Swart planet in the universe of deeds!
Wide sea, that one continuous murmur breeds
Along the pebbled shore of memory!
Many old rotten-timber'd boats there be
Upon thy vaporous bosom, magnified
To goodly vessels; many a sail of pride,
And golden keel'd, is left unlaunch'd and dry.
But wherefore this? What care, though owl did fly
About the great Athenian admiral's mast?
What care, though striding Alexander past
The Indus with his Macedonian numbers?
Though old Ulysses tortured from his slumbers
The glutted Cyclops, what care?--Juliet leaning
Amid her window-flowers,--sighing,--weaning
Tenderly her fancy from its maiden snow,
Doth more avail than these: the silver flow
Of Hero's tears, the swoon of Imogen,
Fair Pastorella in the bandit's den,
Are things to brood on with more ardency
Than the death-day of empires. Fearfully
Must such conviction come upon his head,
Who, thus far, discontent, has dared to tread,
Without one muse's smile, or kind behest,
The path of love and poesy. But rest,
In chaffing restlessness, is yet more drear
Than to be crush'd, in striving to uprear
Love's standard on the battlements of song.
So once more days and nights aid me along,
Like legion'd soldiers.

Brain-sick shepherd-prince,
What promise hast thou faithful guarded since
The day of sacrifice? Or, have new sorrows
Come with the constant dawn upon thy morrows?
Alas! 'tis his old grief. For many days,
Has he been wandering in uncertain ways:

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Dreamin'

Close your eyes and take a look at your life
Do you like what you see
My eyes are open but I feel like I'm blind, it's all returning to me
I wanna know, does a frozen river flow
Things you said fill my head lying in a cold and empty bed
I'm only dreaming
Between the darkness and the light
I'm only dreaming, oooh
Dreaming, can't tell the daylight from the night
I'm only dreaming, dreaming
I feel the sunlight shining down on my face
Not a cloud in my mind
I get my wake up but it never comes in time
My prayers are spoken and I wait to receive
'Cause there's a fine line between the truth and how we want it to be
I'm only dreaming
Between the darkness and the light
I'm only dreaming, oooh
Dreaming, can't tell the daylight from the night
I'm only dreaming, dreaming
I'm sailing like a ship on the sea
I don't care if I'm lost in the haze
I hear the angels singing something to me
Time's the enemy
That you never see
Won't you come slip away
I am only dreaming
I'm only dreaming
I am only dreaming
Yeah
I'm only dreaming
I am only dreaming
I'm only dreaming
Yeah
I am only dreaming
Dreaming

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IV. Tertium Quid

True, Excellency—as his Highness says,
Though she's not dead yet, she's as good as stretched
Symmetrical beside the other two;
Though he's not judged yet, he's the same as judged,
So do the facts abound and superabound:
And nothing hinders that we lift the case
Out of the shade into the shine, allow
Qualified persons to pronounce at last,
Nay, edge in an authoritative word
Between this rabble's-brabble of dolts and fools
Who make up reasonless unreasoning Rome.
"Now for the Trial!" they roar: "the Trial to test
"The truth, weigh husband and weigh wife alike
"I' the scales of law, make one scale kick the beam!"
Law's a machine from which, to please the mob,
Truth the divinity must needs descend
And clear things at the play's fifth act—aha!
Hammer into their noddles who was who
And what was what. I tell the simpletons
"Could law be competent to such a feat
"'T were done already: what begins next week
"Is end o' the Trial, last link of a chain
"Whereof the first was forged three years ago
"When law addressed herself to set wrong right,
"And proved so slow in taking the first step
"That ever some new grievance,—tort, retort,
"On one or the other side,—o'ertook i' the game,
"Retarded sentence, till this deed of death
"Is thrown in, as it were, last bale to boat
"Crammed to the edge with cargo—or passengers?
"'Trecentos inseris: ohe, jam satis est!
"'Huc appelle!'—passengers, the word must be."
Long since, the boat was loaded to my eyes.
To hear the rabble and brabble, you'd call the case
Fused and confused past human finding out.
One calls the square round, t' other the round square—
And pardonably in that first surprise
O' the blood that fell and splashed the diagram:
But now we've used our eyes to the violent hue
Can't we look through the crimson and trace lines?
It makes a man despair of history,
Eusebius and the established fact—fig's end!
Oh, give the fools their Trial, rattle away
With the leash of lawyers, two on either side—
One barks, one bites,—Masters Arcangeli
And Spreti,—that's the husband's ultimate hope
Against the Fisc and the other kind of Fisc,
Bound to do barking for the wife: bow—wow!
Why, Excellency, we and his Highness here
Would settle the matter as sufficiently

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