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Good Time Charlies Got The Blues

(words & music by danny okeefe)
Everybodys gone away
Said theyre movin to l.a.
Theres not a soul I know around
Everybodys leavin town
Some caught a freight, some caught a plane
Found the sunshine in the rain
They said this towns will waste their time
I guess theyre right, its wasting mine
Some gotta win, some gotta lose
Good time charlies got the blues
Good time charlies got the blues
You know my heart keeps tellin me
Youre not a kid at thirty-three
Play around youll lose your wife
You play it too long youll lose your life
Some gotta win, some gotta lose
Good time charlies got the blues
Good time charlies got the blues
Good time charlies got the blues
Some gotta win, some gotta lose
Good time charlies got the blues
Good time charlies got the blues
Good time charlies got the blues

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Packin Up

(margie hendrix)
So if I give up (yes, Im packin up)
Movin out of the town (movin out of the town)
Packin up (yes, Im packin up)
Movin out of the town (movin out of the town)
Im not chained and Im no longer bound
Said if I get up (yes, Im packin up)
Movin out of the town (movin out of town)
Oh yeah (yes, Im packin up)
Movin out of the town (movin out of the town)
Im not chained and Im no longer bound
My suitcases ready
My clothes are too
And these are the things
You took me through
My friends told me
All about you
That men are evil
The things you do
And I keep on (Im not chained and Im no longer bound)
And then Im packin (yes, Im packin up)
Movin out of the town (movin out of the town)
Oh yeah (yes, Im packin up)
Movin out of the town (movin out of the town)
Im not chained and Im no longer bound
Now that Im gone
Just look at me
Im looking better than
Any girl you see
Ive gotta brand new clothes
I gotta diamond ring
I gotta brand new man
He give me everything
So keep on (Im not chained and Im no longer bound)
And then Im movin (movin movin)
Oh, movin (movin movin)
And I gotta move (movin movin)
And I wanna move (movin movin)
Oh yeah (movin movin)
And I gotta move (movin movin)
And I gotta move (movin movin)
And I gotta move (movin movin)
Start packin up (movin movin)
Start packin up (movin movin)
Start packin up (movin movin)
Movin out of town (movin movin)
Alright (movin movin)
Yeah, yeah (movin movin)
Start packin up (movin movin)

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Keep It Movin

[Missy Elliott]
Eh yo Timb, you know
Niggas like Dr Dre and the Neptunes and Just Blaze
They should be so hot they be keepin us workin yah feel me
But but that nigga R. Kelly
He got one of the illest lines when he say
"Is anybody feelin freaky"
[Elephant Man (Missy Elliott)]
Man up...yep, good to go
Ele-phant Man and Missy Elliott (yeah)
Ladies keep it movin (uh)
Gi dem di dance now
(Its like butter baby, its like butter)
Buss di dance now
(Its like butter baby, its like butter [x3])
Missy, Elliot
Ladies windin around
Tweet show dem kindly how fi do it
(Whoo) Come on
[Verse 1 Missy Elliott]
When you hear the song, role down yah window
Let the music thump yeah, thump thump thump thump
Take a walk in the club, thats how I role
You look so so down, so so so so
Now when you step out on the scene, so fresh so clean
Lookin like a wet dream, yo know what I mean
Its about that, what time would that be?
Wind yah waist line to the base line
Slow it down now get the beat right
[Chorus]
Keep it (oh) movin (oh), keep it (oh) movin (oh)
Buss yah (oh) grove (oh) n we gon' (oh )keep it (oh) movin (oh)
Keep it (oh) movin (oh), keep it (oh) movin (oh)
Shake shake (oh) yah body (oh) we gon' (oh) keep it (oh) movin (oh)
Keep it (oh) movin (oh), keep it (oh) movin (oh)
Shake shake (oh) yah body (oh) they gon' (oh) keep it (oh) movin (oh)
Keep it (oh) movin (oh), keep it (oh) movin (oh)
Buss yah (oh) grove (oh) n we gon' (oh )keep it (oh) movin (oh)
[Verse 2 Missy Elliott]
If you know you look good, say so say so
And you dont give a [ding], hell no hell no
Put yah hands in the air yeah, get yo hands up
Baby bounce baby bounce, get low get low
2 shots in yah club, yep just whats up
Get Timb to fill it up, yep just whats up
Its about that time, what time would that be
Wind yah waist line to the base line
Slow it down now get the beat right
[Chorus]
Keep it (oh) movin (oh), keep it (oh) movin (oh)

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The House Of Dust: Complete

I.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.

And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.

'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.

We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.

Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.

Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.


II.

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Movin'

Movin', movin' down the line, yeah
Movin' all the ......in time, yeah
Movin', movin down the line,yeah
Movin', watchin' for the road sign
Losin', almost losin' your mind
Losin' losin' all track of time
Movin', hurry up and stay behind
Movin' on down the line
Check into a hotel hour' till showtime
Brother won't you pass me the wine?
And those front row women are always lookin' so fine
Movin', take a french bath quick
Movin', waiting for the wine kick
Movin', countin' every clock tick
Yeah i gotta get on the stick
Movin', stealin' all the hot licks
Movin', where is my guitar pick?
Movin', ain't got time to get sick
Movin' on down the road
Finally make it backstage ain't no dressing room
Done forgot our last tune now the curtains risin'
I think it's twenty minutes too soon
Tuning in a hurry gotta make that booker worry
Will we hit the stage on time?
This microphone's a live wire goin' like wild fire
The feedback is soundin' just fine
Movin', i think we stole the show,yeah
Movin', i guess it's time to go now
Movin', i ain't got time to slow down
I keep on feelin' low down
Cruisin', headin' for a show town
Cruisin', i hope that town'll blow now
Movin' which way do we go now
Movin' on down the road
Check into a hotel hour till showtime
Brother won't you pass me that wine
And those front row women are always lookin' so fine
Movin', i din't get the check,yeah
Movin', ah but what the heck,yeah
Movin', on down the road
Gotta stay on top,yeah
Movin', movin' till we drop yeah
Movin' on down the road
I didn't miss a trick yeah
Movi' but i didn't get the chick,yeah
Movin' on down the road
Movin' down the line yeah
Movin', all the ...in time now
Movin' on down the road

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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

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Free

Chill in the bones, chill in the air
Do you think that i haven't been around?
Boy i wasn't born yesterday, yesterday
Coming home late at night, flowers on the doorstep
Trying to make it right
Boy you gotta be high's what i got to say
I got to say, i've done all i can
I've given you every chance to prove you are my man
But now there's nothing left to lose
I'm free, like the wind
Independent once again
Yeah, i'm gone, i gotta be moving on
Free, watch me fly
Lift your hands and wave bye bye
'cause i'm gone
I gotta be movin' on, movin' movin' movin' on
Movin' movin' movin' on, movin' movin' movin' on
I think i'll go do the mall, make a couple of calls
Gonna hang with the girls
Just to keep from crying on a shoulder
Ain't gonna turn back
Nothing you can say can change that feeling that you get
When you know that it's finally, finally over
I've made up my mind
Even though it hurts to leave your love behind
I've got nothing left to lose
I'm free, like the wind
Independent once again
Yeah, i'm gone, i gotta be moving on
Free, watch me fly
Lift your hands and wave bye bye
'cause i'm gone
I gotta be movin' on, movin' movin' movin' on
Movin' movin' movin' on, movin' movin' movin' on
I'm gone
Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do
Even if your heart is trying to tell you to
Stay a little bit longer, trell you to
Try a little bit harder, baby i know
I can't live another day, sleep another night
Waiting for you to change into something i
Wish you could have been
It's not what i'm into now
I've done all i can
Given you every chance to prove
You are my man
But now there's nothing left to lose
I'm free, like the wind
Independent once again
Yeah, i'm gone, i gotta be moving on

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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

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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,

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Lovin Or Leavin

Its nice to spend the time with you
I know youve got a lot to go for
I like the things you say and do
And yet what do I have to show for
Nice to pass away
Then another break of day
Lovin,
Lovin, lovin or leavin
Im for lovin, lovin or leavin
Lovin, lovin or leavin
I said lovin, lovin or leavin yeah...
We play the old familiar game
Cause life is short, lets keep on movin
Its fun alright, but just the same
Theres more to it then all that showed
All the things come to
I know it will, and so do you
Lovin,
Lovin, lovin or leavin
I said lovin, lovin or leavin
Lovin, lovin or leavin
I said lovin, lovin or leavin yeah...
So thats the way I really feel
I want you badly, oh...we know
Lovin, (ah)
Lovin, lovin or leavin (yeah)
Lovin, lovin or leavin (yeah...Ill tell you)
Lovin, lovin or leavin (hear me)
Lovin, lovin or leavin
Lovin, lovin or leavin (sock it to me)
Lovin, lovin or leavin (yeah)
Lovin, lovin or leavin (yeah)
Lovin, lovin or leavin (yeah...Ill tell you)
Lovin, lovin or leavin (hear me)
Lovin, lovin or leavin
Lovin, lovin or leavin (sock it to me)
Lovin...

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February Rain

To be the mud, the bog, the mire;
To soak the bones in February –
Eons from the autumn shower–
Even from a summer berry!

Sparrows chirp a desperate call,
Darting questions at the cows –
Oblivious to the dousing squall, they
Churn the sludge with pastern ploughs.

The crying air was lost in rhythm:
Drums incessant in the drops;
Not a chance for rainbow prism –
Even if the hammering stops!

Metallic chills entrap machines –
Tractors hushed within the shed.
Inside the house, a full cuisine
To bless with mead – and little said!

But out across the tiring field,
A sodden fox is hunting down
His prey of sorts – but nil of yield;
Perhaps he’ll starve; perhaps he’ll drown.

Still the clouds are hammering,
Hammering home their dreary aim –
A chatterbox in constant yammering,
Drenching all to make a claim.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010


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John Sinclair

It aint fair, john sinclair
In the stir for breathing air
Wont you care for john sinclair?
In the stir for breathing air
Let him be, set him free
Let him be like you and me
They gave him ten for two
What else can the judges do?
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta set him free
If hed been a soldier man
Shooting gooks in vietnam
If he was the cia
Selling dope and making hay
Hed be free, theyd let him be
Breathing air, like you and me
They gave him ten for two
What else can the judges do?
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta set him free
They gave him ten for two
They got ali otis too.
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta set him free
Was he jailed for what he done?
Or representing everyone
Free john now, if we can
From the clutches of the man
Let him be, lift the lid
Bring him to his wife and kids
They gave him ten for two
What else can the bastards do?
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta set him free

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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:

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Cant Slow Down

I know whats on your mind.
You feel youre wasting time.
Wanna talk about it?
You feel theres something wrong.
Dont feel like holding on.
You better think about it.
You say you jest cant see.
Dont lay that hurt on me.
What Im trying baby.
Got something on my mind.
Something Ive got to find.
Im on the move baby.
(chorus)
You see I (cant slow down)
Got to keep movin baby (cant slow down)
No I (cant slow down)
Oh (cant slow down)
Got to keep movin on, oh baby.
Im out here on the run.
Trying to get things done.
Can you hear me baby?
You think my loves nowhere.
You think I just dont care.
Are you kidding baby?
Dont make me play no games.
Too hard to just stay sane.
You know that time wont wait
Why should I hesitate.
Got to do it baby.
(chorus)
You see I (cant slow down)
I got to keep movin baby (cant slow down)
No I (cant slow down)
Cant stop baby, no (cant slow down)
Got to keep pushin
Got to keep movin on.
Oh, oh baby, ah, oh, oh baby.
(bridge)
Im working hard tryin to pull it together.
You know Ive got to right now.
cause girl I cant quit once I get started,
Ive got to make it somhow...
Ah, (I got to keep movin, I cant stop movin)
(I got to keep movin, I cant stop)
(I got to keep movin, I cant stop movin)
(I got to keep movin, I cant stop)
Oh,(I got to keep movin, I cant stop movin)
(I got to keep movin, I cant stop)
Thats right (I got to keep movin, I cant stop movin)
Thats right (I got to keep movin, I cant stop)

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V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

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The Victories Of Love. Book I

I
From Frederick Graham

Mother, I smile at your alarms!
I own, indeed, my Cousin's charms,
But, like all nursery maladies,
Love is not badly taken twice.
Have you forgotten Charlotte Hayes,
My playmate in the pleasant days
At Knatchley, and her sister, Anne,
The twins, so made on the same plan,
That one wore blue, the other white,
To mark them to their father's sight;
And how, at Knatchley harvesting,
You bade me kiss her in the ring,
Like Anne and all the others? You,
That never of my sickness knew,
Will laugh, yet had I the disease,
And gravely, if the signs are these:

As, ere the Spring has any power,
The almond branch all turns to flower,
Though not a leaf is out, so she
The bloom of life provoked in me;
And, hard till then and selfish, I
Was thenceforth nought but sanctity
And service: life was mere delight
In being wholly good and right,
As she was; just, without a slur;
Honouring myself no less than her;
Obeying, in the loneliest place,
Ev'n to the slightest gesture, grace
Assured that one so fair, so true,
He only served that was so too.
For me, hence weak towards the weak,
No more the unnested blackbird's shriek
Startled the light-leaved wood; on high
Wander'd the gadding butterfly,
Unscared by my flung cap; the bee,
Rifling the hollyhock in glee,
Was no more trapp'd with his own flower,
And for his honey slain. Her power,
From great things even to the grass
Through which the unfenced footways pass,
Was law, and that which keeps the law,
Cherubic gaiety and awe;
Day was her doing, and the lark
Had reason for his song; the dark
In anagram innumerous spelt
Her name with stars that throbb'd and felt;

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OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII (Entire)

Strong Son of God, immortal Love,
Whom we, that have not seen thy face,
By faith, and faith alone, embrace,
Believing where we cannot prove;
Thine are these orbs of light and shade;
Thou madest Life in man and brute;
Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot
Is on the skull which thou hast made.

Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.

Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou:
Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

Our little systems have their day;
They have their day and cease to be:
They are but broken lights of thee,
And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

We have but faith: we cannot know;
For knowledge is of things we see;
And yet we trust it comes from thee,
A beam in darkness: let it grow.

Let knowledge grow from more to more,
But more of reverence in us dwell;
That mind and soul, according well,
May make one music as before,

But vaster. We are fools and slight;
We mock thee when we do not fear:
But help thy foolish ones to bear;
Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light.

Forgive what seem’d my sin in me;
What seem’d my worth since I began;
For merit lives from man to man,
And not from man, O Lord, to thee.

Forgive my grief for one removed,
Thy creature, whom I found so fair.
I trust he lives in thee, and there
I find him worthier to be loved.

Forgive these wild and wandering cries,

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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

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The Ballad of the White Horse

DEDICATION

Of great limbs gone to chaos,
A great face turned to night--
Why bend above a shapeless shroud
Seeking in such archaic cloud
Sight of strong lords and light?

Where seven sunken Englands
Lie buried one by one,
Why should one idle spade, I wonder,
Shake up the dust of thanes like thunder
To smoke and choke the sun?

In cloud of clay so cast to heaven
What shape shall man discern?
These lords may light the mystery
Of mastery or victory,
And these ride high in history,
But these shall not return.

Gored on the Norman gonfalon
The Golden Dragon died:
We shall not wake with ballad strings
The good time of the smaller things,
We shall not see the holy kings
Ride down by Severn side.

Stiff, strange, and quaintly coloured
As the broidery of Bayeux
The England of that dawn remains,
And this of Alfred and the Danes
Seems like the tales a whole tribe feigns
Too English to be true.

Of a good king on an island
That ruled once on a time;
And as he walked by an apple tree
There came green devils out of the sea
With sea-plants trailing heavily
And tracks of opal slime.

Yet Alfred is no fairy tale;
His days as our days ran,
He also looked forth for an hour
On peopled plains and skies that lower,
From those few windows in the tower
That is the head of a man.

But who shall look from Alfred's hood

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Seventh Book

'THE woman's motive? shall we daub ourselves
With finding roots for nettles? 'tis soft clay
And easily explored. She had the means,
The moneys, by the lady's liberal grace,
In trust for that Australian scheme and me,
Which so, that she might clutch with both her hands,
And chink to her naughty uses undisturbed,
She served me (after all it was not strange,;
'Twas only what my mother would have done)
A motherly, unmerciful, good turn.

'Well, after. There are nettles everywhere,
But smooth green grasses are more common still;
The blue of heaven is larger than the cloud;
A miller's wife at Clichy took me in
And spent her pity on me,–made me calm
And merely very reasonably sad.
She found me a servant's place in Paris where
I tried to take the cast-off life again,
And stood as quiet as a beaten ass
Who, having fallen through overloads, stands up
To let them charge him with another pack.

'A few months, so. My mistress, young and light,
Was easy with me, less for kindness than
Because she led, herself, an easy time
Betwixt her lover and her looking-glass,
Scarce knowing which way she was praised the most.
She felt so pretty and so pleased all day
She could not take the trouble to be cross,
But sometimes, as I stooped to tie her shoe,
Would tap me softly with her slender foot
Still restless with the last night's dancing in't,
And say 'Fie, pale-face! are you English girls
'All grave and silent? mass-book still, and Lent?
'And first-communion colours on your cheeks,
'Worn past the time for't? little fool, be gay!'
At which she vanished, like a fairy, through
A gap of silver laughter.
'Came an hour
When all went otherwise. She did not speak,
But clenched her brows, and clipped me with her eyes
As if a viper with a pair of tongs,
Too far for any touch, yet near enough
To view the writhing creature,–then at last,
'Stand still there, in the holy Virgin's name,
'Thou Marian; thou'rt no reputable girl,
'Although sufficient dull for twenty saints!
'I think thou mock'st me and my house,' she said;
'Confess thou'lt be a mother in a month,

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Sunshine On A Rainy Day

I see you in the darkness
I see you in the light
I see your eyes shining
In through the night
Make me feel, make me feel
Like I belong
Don't leave me, you won't leave me here
All Alone
Cast your eyes
Like summer skies
Blue earth and the ocean
Clearer than the skies, yeah!
Sunshine on a rainy day (sunshine)
Makes my soul, makes my soul drip, drip, drip away
Sunshine on a rainy day (sunshine)
Makes my soul, makes my soul drip, drip, drip away
You touch me with your spirit
You touch me with your heart
You touch me in the darkness
I feel it start
Make it feel, make it feel
So Unreal (so unreal)
Like a wind in the desert
Like a moon on the sea
Sunshine on a rainy day (sunshine)
Makes my soul, makes my soul drip, drip, drip away
Sunshine on a rainy day (sunshine)
Makes my soul, makes my soul drip, drip, drip away
Sunshine on a rainy day (sunshine)
Makes my soul, makes my soul drip, drip, drip away
Sunshine on a rainy day (sunshine)
Makes my soul, makes my soul drip, drip, drip away
Make it feel, make it feel
So Unreal (so unreal)
Like a wind in the desert
Like a moon on the sea, yeah!
Sunshine on a rainy day (sunshine)
Makes my soul, makes my soul drip, drip, drip away
Sunshine on a rainy day (sunshine)
Makes my soul, makes my soul drip, drip, drip away
Sunshine on a rainy day (sunshine)
Makes my soul, makes my soul drip, drip, drip away
Sunshine on a rainy day (sunshine)
Makes my soul, makes my soul drip, drip, drip away
Sunshine on a rainy day (sunshine)
Makes my soul, makes my soul drip, drip, drip away
Sunshine on a rainy day (sunshine)
Makes my soul, makes my soul drip, drip, drip away

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