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Color Blind

Michael w. smith / wayne kirkpatrick
Theres not a world of difference
Out in the world tonight
Between this world of people
Red, yellow, black and white
But instead of riding a rainbow of love
We still are fighting with prejudice gloves
Of anger
With something to claim
But nothing to gain so
Chorus:
Why cant we be color blind
You know we should
Be living together
And wed find a reason and rhyme
I know we would
cause we could see better
If we could be color blind
Somebodys just assuming
Hes up to nothing good
cause hes not like the others
There goes the neighborhood
What kind of world are we living in
Whe we judge a man by the tone of his skin
Its crazy
cause he has a heart
Like you have a heart and
Chorus
Bridge:
Itd be so fine
To be color blind
To open our eyes
And see color blind
I know this world would be a better place
The only race would be the human race
All of those barriers would be erased
Why cant we be color blind
Chorus

song performed by Michael W. SmithReport problemRelated quotes
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In My Childhood Days I Pick Lilies In The Marsh

In my childhood days I pick lilies in the marsh,
I pick lilies, the most beautiful that I can find
in colours of red, yellow and white
but now a tar road cuts past.
The highway runs almost to eternity,
I wonder where the dilapidation did start
see no coots, plovers calling
broken lies the marshland that I love
and I have to search into the bright blue
to cling to the untouched
while smoke clouds of white, yellow and grey hang
like a blanket that is folding over everything
while wealth increases, nature becomes distorted,
and the plain has offices that is encroaching it.

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Wayne's World

Shave a sheep and save my love,
For the products from Germany are all around you;
But when the night becomes day,
The mouse comes out to play.
Wayne's world,
Shave a sheep and save my love;
For when the day becomes night,
The cat goes out for a catch.

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Anna

Michael w. smith/ wayne kirkpatrick
Jack is in the corner
The dish is with the spoon
The sheep is in the meadow
The cow is on the moon
But I am here with you and I believe
Theres no other place Id rather be
And a promise not to leave you
Is a promise I can keep
Youre my muse
Youre my rhyme
Youre the fire warming this heart of mine
When you hear me say I love you
Anna, do you know how much I do?
So I watch you from a distance
Getting lost within your world
You pretend to be a princess
As you flutter and you twirl
Fragile as the flower in your hair
Dancing in your castle, unaware
That a single day without you
Would be more than I could bear
Little anna, little star
That is what you really are
Cross my heart and hope to die
Youre the apple of my eye

song performed by Michael W. SmithReport problemRelated quotes
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Picture Perfect

Michael w. smith / wayne kirkpatrick
Pull all your hair up
Dab on the make-up
Trying hard to look so pristine
Like a face in a magazine
Those fancy dressers and
Media pressure
Have got you feeling so plain and small
If you dont look like a paper doll
In a world where the goal is
To be like the joneses
Its guaranteed to drive you wild
Keeping up with the latest style
Gaze in the mirror
You want the glamour
And the grace of a movie star
But I like you the way you are
You are the only one Im dreaming of
cause baby dont you know that I love
Chorus:
You, girl
You dont have to be picture perfect
To be in my world
Girl
You dont have to be picture perfect
To fit the frame
Youre tender, youre tactful
Girl, youre a natural
You possess a heart thats true
Thats what I like about you
One in a million
Yea, thats a given
Theres a beauty inside of you
And it show on the outside too
No competition, youre way in the lead
And baby, dont you know that I need...
Chorus

song performed by Michael W. SmithReport problemRelated quotes
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Love One Another

Michael w. smith / wayne kirkpatrick
I had a dream that I was speaking
With a prophet from the land of wise
In a crowd of people from the land of troubled hearts
I said weve come here for answers-
A solution to our worlds demise
He said the journey would be long
But heres where you start
Chorus:
Love one another
Love one another
Work it in to work it out
There could never be enough
Love one another
Love one another
cause you know without a doubt
You can change your world with love
It was a simple conclusion
But I thought that it was rather profound
Just a fundamental law that we should all live by
I took it in to tomorrow
Yea, I walked the earth but I never found
Any corner of the world
Where this did not apply
Chorus
Bridge:
And looking out I saw no method to the madness there
Like in a vision from the isle of patmos, I was scared
It was a revelation
Love is getting rare
The people of the land united
And in my dream we all agreed
That we should start again
And this would be our creed...
Chorus

song performed by Michael W. SmithReport problemRelated quotes
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Give It Away

Michael w. smith / wayne kirkpatrick / amy grant
She asked him for forever
And a promise that would last
He said, babe, you know I love you
But I cant commit to that
She said love isnt love
til you give it away
A father lived in silence
Saw his son become a man
There was a distance felt between them
cause he could not understand
That love isnt love
til you give it away
You gotta give it away
Chorus:
As we live
Moving side by side
May we learn to give
Learn to sacrifice
We can entertain compassion
For a world in need of care
But the road of good intentions
Doesnt lead to anywhere
cause love isnt love
til you give it away
You gotta give it away
Chorus
Bridge:
Love is like a river
Flowing down from the giver of life
We drink from the water
And our thirst is no longer denied
You gotta give it away
Chorus
There was a man who walked on water
He came to set the people free
He was the ultimate example
Of what love can truly be
cause his love was his life
And he gave it away
You gotta give it away
Chorus

song performed by Michael W. SmithReport problemRelated quotes
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Lamu

Words & music: michael w. smith, wayne kirkpatrick, and amy grant
Here we are on a boat out on the sea
Off the coast of africa
Heading for peaceful shores
With a cast of strangers
To an island hideaway
I hear you telling me
Of the place we soon will be
A rebirth from lifes demise
Where the world is still--its ideal
Anything you dream is real
Its hotel paradise
And you say its nice
(when you run to)
Lamu--far away
Leave the pain far behind you
Hoping it wont find you in
Lamu--far away
You say its there that you can run
From the one inside of you
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la la la
So here we are on an island in the sea
Near the coast of africa
And when its right--lamu nights,
They can be so inviting
Heaven here on earth
But I hear you telling me
This is everything you need
Well, I dont think its true
cause the way you feel isnt real
You attempt to try and fill
The void thats digging thru
And its killing you (when you run to)
Lamu--far away
Tho that pain was behind you
It can even find you in
Lamu--far away
Because you never can run
From the one inside of you
I hear you telling me
Of the place we soon will be
A rebirth from lifes demise
Where the world is still--its ideal
Anything you dream is real
Its hotel paradise
And you say its nice
(when you run to)
Lamu--far away
Leave the pain far behind you
Hoping it wont find you in
Lamu--far away
Tho that pain was behind you
It can even find you in
Lamu--far away
Because you never can run
From the one inside of you

song performed by Michael W. SmithReport problemRelated quotes
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Jah World (feat. Junior Reid)

[Junior Reid]
Him speaketh in tongues into the hearts of all flesh
Yeah stanyoi
Whoi
[Ghostface Killah]
Oh God, I beg for forgiveness
So help me Lord, yes I beg for forgiveness
Deep in my heart, please, I'm crying for forgiveness
Allah you Akhbar, I fall to my knees for forgiveness
Branded by the steel iron, bullets flying
Ladies being hit through wickedness, I'm losing my grip
I thought we lived by the books, The Bible, Koran
We pick cotton, my back is still hot and dark and
They threw burners in our babies' faces
Pale hands that looked scary touched our bodies in the strangest places
Sweat from the white man's head
Fell on our daughters as she cried, giving white man head, almighty
Alrighty, niggaz is screwing
God won't you tell me why these ho niggaz is screwing?
I'm sorry father, sacrifice me, leave me wife
Sacrifice me twice, so my kids can see paradise...
[Junior Reid]
So we heed our god king sellasie I, jah rastafari
who is seated in zion and reigneth in all
In the hearts of all flesh
Whoa wow
Let my task oh jah with them that strive with me
Fight against them Whoa wow that fight against me
Whoa wow
Take hold thy shield and rock and stand up for my health
Oh jah, oh jah, only you can comfort me
La la la, la la la la la, la la la la
La la la whoi stand out
[RZA]
Curse to the wicked snakes who try to snatch the truth away
Cursed be the ones who try to take our youth away
Peace to the black, the brown, the red, yellow, and white seed
We don't discriminate man over color/creed
They tried to snatch up our beats, son, and steal our culture
and German Catholics, whitewashing Roman sculptures
How dare you try to deny Allah's intelligence?
Kidnap the truth, and destroying the black evidence
[Junior Reid]
Glory be to the father
Glory be to the son (Glory be to the holy one)
Glory be to the holy one
The holder of creation whoi
As jah was in the beginning is now and forever shall be
Jah world
Jah world without end whoi
So we heed our god king sellassie I, jahova god, jah rastafari
Who is seated in zion and reigneth in the hearts of
In the hearts of all flesh whoi

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Jah World (feat. Junior Reid)

[Junior Reid]
Him speaketh in tongues into the hearts of all flesh
Yeah stanyoi
Whoi
[Ghostface Killah]
Oh God, I beg for forgiveness
So help me Lord, yes I beg for forgiveness
Deep in my heart, please, I'm crying for forgiveness
Allah you Akhbar, I fall to my knees for forgiveness
Branded by the steel iron, bullets flying
Ladies being hit through wickedness, I'm losing my grip
I thought we lived by the books, The Bible, Koran
We pick cotton, my back is still hot and dark and
They threw burners in our babies' faces
Pale hands that looked scary touched our bodies in the strangest places
Sweat from the white man's head
Fell on our daughters as she cried, giving white man head, almighty
Alrighty, niggaz is screwing
God won't you tell me why these ho niggaz is screwing?
I'm sorry father, sacrifice me, leave me wife
Sacrifice me twice, so my kids can see paradise...
[Junior Reid]
So we heed our god king sellasie I, jah rastafari
who is seated in zion and reigneth in all
In the hearts of all flesh
Whoa wow
Let my task oh jah with them that strive with me
Fight against them Whoa wow that fight against me
Whoa wow
Take hold thy shield and rock and stand up for my health
Oh jah, oh jah, only you can comfort me
La la la, la la la la la, la la la la
La la la whoi stand out
[RZA]
Curse to the wicked snakes who try to snatch the truth away
Cursed be the ones who try to take our youth away
Peace to the black, the brown, the red, yellow, and white seed
We don't discriminate man over color/creed
They tried to snatch up our beats, son, and steal our culture
and German Catholics, whitewashing Roman sculptures
How dare you try to deny Allah's intelligence?
Kidnap the truth, and destroying the black evidence
[Junior Reid]
Glory be to the father
Glory be to the son (Glory be to the holy one)
Glory be to the holy one
The holder of creation whoi
As jah was in the beginning is now and forever shall be
Jah world
Jah world without end whoi
So we heed our god king sellassie I, jahova god, jah rastafari
Who is seated in zion and reigneth in the hearts of
In the hearts of all flesh whoi

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Silly Love Songs

Youd think that people would have had enought of silly love songs.
But I look around me and I see it isnt so.
Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs.
And whats wrong with that?
Id like to know, cause here I go again
I love you, I love you,
I love you, I love you,
I cant explain the feelings plain to me, say cant you see?
Ah, she gave me more, she gave it all to me
Now cant you see,
Whats wrong with that
I need to know, cause here I go again
I love you, I love you
Love doesnt come in a minute,
Sometimes it doesnt come at all
I only know that when Im in it
It isnt silly, no, it isnt silly, love isnt silly at all.
How can I tell you about my loved one?
How can I tell you about my loved one?
How can I tell you about my loved one?
(I love you)
How can I tell you about my loved one?
(I love you)
[repeat and fade]

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Medley: Fool For A Cigarette/feelin Good

(sidney bailey)/(j.b. lenoir/jim dickinson)
Uhm, Im a fool for a cigarette
Lord, Im fool for a cigarette
When youve finished choke it cause I wanna smoke it
Lord, Im fool for a cigarette
Mind when you throw your cigarette
Mind when you throw your cigarette
When youve finished choke it cause I wanna smoke it
Lord, Im fool for a cigarette
Lord, Im fool for a cigarette
Uhm, Im fool for a cigarette
When youve finished choke it cause I wanna smoke it
Lord, Im fool for a cigarette
Feelin good, feelin good
All the money in the world spent onl feelin good
Well, the wino met me on the streets
Said, help me on to some sneakin pete
Please, help me brother, I wish you would
cause I feel so bad and I wanna feel good
Feelin good, feelin good
All the money in the world is spent on feelin good
Well, you see them folks all dressed so fine
Dancing, drinking champagne and wine
Theyd pinch your pockets now if they could
cause they aint doing nothing but feelin good
Feelin good, feelin good
All the money in the world is spent on feelin good
Red, yellow, black or tan
Makes no difference: a mans a man
They oughta live together now if they could
Then the whole wide world would be feelin good
Feelin good, feelin good
All the money in the world spent on feelin good
Feelin good, feelin good
All the money in the world spent on feelin good

song performed by Ry CooderReport problemRelated quotes
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Breathe In Me

Words & music: michael w. smith & wayne kirkpatrick
You breathe in me
And i'm alive
With the power of your holiness
You breathe in me
And you revive
Feelings in my soul
That i have laid to rest
Chorus:
So breathe in me
I need you now
I've never felt so dead within
So breathe in me
Maybe somehow
You can breathe new life
In me again
I used to be
So sensitive
To the light that leads
To where you are
Now i've acquired
These callouses
With the darkness of
A cold and jaded heart
Chorus

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When You walked into the world from God to man

When You walked into the world,
from God to man,
nobody really realized
what kind of offering You were making

when You got involved with man
bringing healing to pain,
with a slapping whip drove out
the white plastered priests

and in astonishment
people saw Your love,
when You with the last bit of life,
near to death,
still spoke of mercy

and asked Your Father forgiveness
for them that in humiliation
with pain were murdering You,
before the wide universe
man merciless had portrayed the depths of sin.

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You're Alright

Words & music:michael w. smith, wayne kirkpatrick, and chris rodrigues
You're alright
You take a look inside
But you don't like what you see
And so you choose to look away
It doesn't coincide
With how you'd like to be
And each glimpse of hope can easily fade
Chorus:
Down on your confidence
It's a fight that won't let go
(but) you've got to realize
That you're alright
('cause) under your rubble
Lies a heart the father holds
And when you see your life
Thru his eyes
You're alright
To learn how he loves you
Is to learn to love yourself
To live the life he's livin' in you
(and) what others think of you
Could never measure to the wealth
Of what he's paid and given to you
Chorus

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Somebody Love Me

Michael w. smith / wayne kirkpatrick
Counting every moment
Biding all my time
Standing out here on my own
Searching for that someone
To heal this heart of mine
And keep me from being alone
But when will it be
And how will I know
I dont want to wait here forever
Chorus:
Somebody love me
Come and carry me away
Somebody need me
To be the blue in their grey
Somebody want me
The way Ive always dreamed it could be
Wont somebody love me, love me
Im waiting for somebody
To dance across the floor
Sweeping me off of my feet
Im looking for the right one
To open up that door
And offer me a tender retreat
Its like wanting to sing
But needing a song
When will I hear the music playing
Chorus

song performed by Michael W. SmithReport problemRelated quotes
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Cross Of Gold

Michael w. smith / wayne kirkpatrick
Where do you stand
What is your statement
What is it youre trying to say
Whats in your hand
Whats in your basement
Whats in the cards you dont play
Are you holding the key
Or are you intending
To pick the lock of heavens gate
Its confusing to me
The message youre sending
And I dont know if I can relate
Chorus:
Whats you line
Tell me why you wear your cross of gold
State of mind
Or does it find a way into your soul
Is it a flame
Is it a passion
A symbol of love living in you
Or is it a game
Religion in fashion
Some kind of pahse youre going thru
We all travel the extremes
From cellar to rafter
Looking for a place in the sun
So Im trying to see
What youre headed after
But I dont know where youre coming from
Chorus bridge: (spoken)
For some its simply something to wear around your neck
Just a chain
Jewelry
Is it decoration?
Is it an icon
Or proclomation?
An icon of what?
What?
For some its simply something to wear around your neck
Just a chain
It means a lot more than that to me
Chorus

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Angels Unaware

Words & music: michael w. smith & wayne kirkpatrick
Maybe there's a light in my soul
Maybe it flickers like a neon sign outside an abandoned hotel
Maybe there are things you just can't know
But can you say there are no mysteries in the house you choose to dwell
Maybe we are entertaining angels unaware
Maybe there's a place where we will fly
But some say god is dead like nietzsche said and faith has made me a fool
But maybe there is more than meets the eye
Who's that stranger there beside you? don't be smug and don't be cruel
Maybe we are entertaining angels unaware
Battles of the heart and of the mind
We stay caught in mental purgatory 'til our existence can be defined
Meanwhile on the shores of parallel
There may be a holy conference held somewhere discussing all mankind
Maybe we are entertaining angels unaware
I say maybe we are entertaining angels unaware
Angels unaware
Soaring, somewhere, longing, reaching
Searching, knowing, loving, caring
Let me take you by the hand
Lead you to the promised land
And trust him with your heart
He'll lead you home

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Live And Learn

Live and Learn
by Michael W. Smith & Wayne Kirkpatrick
on i 2 (EYE) (1988)
Never should have tasted that forbidden fruit
Tell me why do I always do
What I don't want to do
Now, I'm the only reaper of the seeds that I sow
And when I walk the field of my stubborn will
It's a hard row to hoe
There's a price for getting smarter
So I pay what I owe
While bridges burn
Let the shadow fall behind me
I am wiser I know
We live and learn
Always living and learning
Always living and learning
Is it out of the fire, back into the pan
Is once enough to let it all sink in - or will I do it again
A time for understanding has now come of age
So I heed the word of the counselor and the voice of the sage
Try to see the meaning
Read between every line
When pages turn
There'll be no room for explaining what has been well defined
We live and learn
Always living and learning
Always living and learning
An engaging temptation had me doing time
'Cause when it starts a fire under strong desire
We are partners in crime
But hindsight is clearer
I can see where I've gone and never return
It's a new man in the mirror
It's a new freedom song to live and learn
Always living and learning
Always living and learning
Excerpt from "Mortality" by Willim Knox
recited by Chris Harris
(ed: recited before the song
"'Tis the wink of an eye
'Tis the draught of a breath
From the blossoms of health
To the pales of death
From the gilded saloon
To the burr in the shroud
Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud

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Wounded

Is it not strange? A year ago to-day,
With scarce a thought beyond the hum-drum round,
I did my decent job and earned my pay;
Was averagely happy, I'll be bound.
Ay, in my little groove I was content,
Seeing my life run smoothly to the end,
With prosy days in stolid labour spent,
And jolly nights, a pipe, a glass, a friend.
In God's good time a hearth fire's cosy gleam,
A wife and kids, and all a fellow needs;
When presto! like a bubble goes my dream:
I leap upon the Stage of Splendid Deeds.
I yell with rage; I wallow deep in gore:
I, that was clerk in a drysalter's store.

Stranger than any book I've ever read.
Here on the reeking battlefield I lie,
Under the stars, propped up with smeary dead,
Like too, if no one takes me in, to die.
Hit on the arms, legs, liver, lungs and gall;
Damn glad there's nothing more of me to hit;
But calm, and feeling never pain at all,
And full of wonder at the turn of it.
For of the dead around me three are mine,
Three foemen vanquished in the whirl of fight;
So if I die I have no right to whine,
I feel I've done my little bit all right.
I don't know how -- but there the beggars are,
As dead as herrings pickled in a jar.

And here am I, worse wounded than I thought;
For in the fight a bullet bee-like stings;
You never heed; the air is metal-hot,
And all alive with little flicking wings.
But on you charge. You see the fellows fall;
Your pal was by your side, fair fighting-mad;
You turn to him, and lo! no pal at all;
You wonder vaguely if he's copped it bad.
But on you charge. The heavens vomit death;
And vicious death is besoming the ground.
You're blind with sweat; you're dazed, and out of breath,
And though you yell, you cannot hear a sound.
But on you charge. Oh, War's a rousing game!
Around you smoky clouds like ogres tower;
The earth is rowelled deep with spurs of flame,
And on your helmet stones and ashes shower.
But on you charge. It's odd! You have no fear.
Machine-gun bullets whip and lash your path;
Red, yellow, black the smoky giants rear;
The shrapnel rips, the heavens roar in wrath.
But on you charge. Barbed wire all trampled down.
The ground all gored and rent as by a blast;
Grim heaps of grey where once were heaps of brown;
A ragged ditch -- the Hun first line at last.
All smashed to hell. Their second right ahead,
So on you charge. There's nothing else to do.
More reeking holes, blood, barbed wire, gruesome dead;
(Your puttee strap's undone -- that worries you).
You glare around. You think you're all alone.
But no; your chums come surging left and right.
The nearest chap flops down without a groan,
His face still snarling with the rage of fight.
Ha! here's the second trench -- just like the first,
Only a little more so, more "laid out";
More pounded, flame-corroded, death-accurst;
A pretty piece of work, beyond a doubt.
Now for the third, and there your job is done,
So on you charge. You never stop to think.
Your cursed puttee's trailing as you run;
You feel you'd sell your soul to have a drink.
The acrid air is full of cracking whips.
You wonder how it is you're going still.
You foam with rage. Oh, God! to be at grips
With someone you can rush and crush and kill.
Your sleeve is dripping blood; you're seeing red;
You're battle-mad; your turn is coming now.
See! there's the jagged barbed wire straight ahead,
And there's the trench -- you'll get there anyhow.
Your puttee catches on a strand of wire,
And down you go; perhaps it saves your life,
For over sandbag rims you see 'em fire,
Crop-headed chaps, their eyes ablaze with strife.
You crawl, you cower; then once again you plunge
With all your comrades roaring at your heels.
Have at 'em lads! You stab, you jab, you lunge;
A blaze of glory, then the red world reels.
A crash of triumph, then . . . you're faint a bit . . .
That cursed puttee! Now to fasten it. . . .

Well, that's the charge. And now I'm here alone.
I've built a little wall of Hun on Hun,
To shield me from the leaden bees that drone
(It saves me worry, and it hurts 'em none).
The only thing I'm wondering is when
Some stretcher-men will stroll along my way?
It isn't much that's left of me, but then
Where life is, hope is, so at least they say.
Well, if I'm spared I'll be the happy lad.
I tell you I won't envy any king.
I've stood the racket, and I'm proud and glad;
I've had my crowning hour. Oh, War's the thing!
It gives us common, working chaps our chance,
A taste of glory, chivalry, romance.

Ay, War, they say, is hell; it's heaven, too.
It lets a man discover what he's worth.
It takes his measure, shows what he can do,
Gives him a joy like nothing else on earth.
It fans in him a flame that otherwise
Would flicker out, these drab, discordant days;
It teaches him in pain and sacrifice
Faith, fortitude, grim courage past all praise.
Yes, War is good. So here beside my slain,
A happy wreck I wait amid the din;
For even if I perish mine's the gain. . . .
Hi, there, you fellows! won't you take me in?
Give me a fag to smoke upon the way. . . .
We've taken La Boiselle! The hell, you say!
Well, that would make a corpse sit up and grin. . . .
Lead on! I'll live to fight another day.

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Astraea: The Balance Of Illusions

WHAT secret charm, long whispering in mine ear,
Allures, attracts, compels, and chains me here,
Where murmuring echoes call me to resign
Their sacred haunts to sweeter lips than mine;
Where silent pathways pierce the solemn shade,
In whose still depths my feet have never strayed;
Here, in the home where grateful children meet
And I, half alien, take the stranger's seat,
Doubting, yet hoping that the gift I bear
May keep its bloom in this unwonted air?
Hush, idle fancy, with thy needless art,
Speak from thy fountains, O my throbbing
heart!

Say, shall I trust these trembling lips to tell
The fireside tale that memory knows so well?
How, in the days of Freedom's dread campaign,
A home-bred schoolboy left his village plain,
Slow faring southward, till his wearied feet
Pressed the worn threshold of this fair retreat;
How, with his comely face and gracious mien,
He joined the concourse of the classic green,
Nameless, unfriended, yet by nature blest
With the rich tokens that she loves the best;
The flowing locks, his youth's redundant crown,
Smoothed o'er a brow unfurrowed by a frown;
The untaught smile that speaks so passing
plain A world all hope, a past without a stain;
The clear-hued cheek, whose burning current glows
Crimson in action, carmine in repose;
Gifts such as purchase, with unminted gold,
Smiles from the young and blessings from the old.

Say, shall my hand with pious love restore
The faint, far pictures time beholds no more?
How the grave Senior, he whose later fame
Stamps on our laws his own undying name,
Saw from on high, with half paternal joy,
Some spark of promise in the studious boy,
And bade him enter, with benignant tone,
Those stately precincts which he called his own,
Where the fresh student and the youthful sage
Read by one taper from the common page;
How the true comrade, whose maturer date
Graced the Urge honors of his ancient State,
Sought his young friendship, which through every change
No time could weaken, no remove estrange;
How the great MASTER, reverend, solemn, wise,
Fixed on his face those calm, majestic eyes,
Full of grave meaning, where a child might read
The Hebraist's patience and the Pilgrim's creed,
But warm with flashes of parental fire
That drew the stripling to his second sire;
How kindness ripened, till the youth might dare
Take the low seat beside his sacred chair,
While the gray scholar, bending o'er the young,
Spelled the square types of Abraham's ancient tongue,
Or with mild rapture stooped devoutly o'er
His small coarse leaf, alive with curious lore:
Tales of grim judges, at whose awful beck
Flashed the broad blade across a royal neck,
Or learned dreams of Israel's long lost child
Found in the wanderer of the western wild.

Dear to his age were memories such as these,
Leaves of his June in life's autumnal breeze;
Such were the tales that won my boyish ear,
Told in low tones that evening loves to hear.

Thus in the scene I pass so lightly o'er,
Trod for a moment, then beheld no more,
Strange shapes and dim, unseen by other eyes,
Through the dark portals of the past arise;
I see no more the fair embracing throng,
I hear no echo to my saddened song,
No more I heed the kind or curious gaze,
The voice of blame, the rustling thrill of praise;
Alone, alone, the awful past I tread
White with the marbles of the slumbering dead;
One shadowy form my dreaming eyes behold
That leads my footsteps as it led of old,
One floating voice, amid the silence heard,
Breathes in my ear love's long unspoken word:
These are the scenes thy youthful eyes have known;
My heart's warm pulses claim them as its own!
The sapling, compassed in thy fingers' clasp,
My arms scarce circle in their twice-told grasp,
Vet in each leaf of yon o'ershadowing tree
I read a legend that was traced by thee.
Year after year the living: wave has beat
These smooth-worn channels with its trampling feet,
Yet in each line that scores the grassy sod
I see the pathway where thy feet have trod.
Though from the scene that hears my faltering lay.
The few that loved thee long have passed away,
Thy sacred presence all the landscape tills,
Its groves and plains and adamantine hills!
Ye who have known the sudden tears that flow,
Sad tears, yet sweet, the dews of twilight woe,
When, led by chance, your wandering eye has crossed
Some poor memorial of the loved and lost,
Bear with my weakness as I look around
On the dear relics of this holy ground,
These bowery cloisters, shadowed and serene,
My dreams have pictured ere mine eyes have seen.

And oh, forgive me, if the flower I brought
Droops in my hand beside this burning thought;
The hopes and fears that marked this destined hour,
The chill of doubt, the startled throb of power,
The flush of pride, the trembling glow of shame,
All fade away and leave my FATHER'S name!

What life is this, that spreads in sudden birth
Its plumes of light around a new-born earth?
Is this the sun that brought the unwelcome day,
Pallid and glimmering with hi- lifeless ray,
Or through the sash that bars yon narrow cage
Slanted, intrusive, on the opened page?
Is this soft breath the same complaining gale
That filled my slumbers with its murmuring wail?
Is this green mantle of elastic sod
The same brown desert with its frozen clod,
Where the last ridges of the dingy snow
Lie till the windflower blooms unstained below?

Thus to my heart its wonted tides return
When sullen Winter breaks his crystal urn,
And o'er the turf in wild profusion showers
Its dewy leaflets and ambrosial flowers.
In vacant rapture for a while I range
Through the wide scene of universal change,
Till, as the statue in its nerves of stone
Felt the new senses wakening one by one,
Each long closed inlet finds its destined ray
Through the dark curtain Spring has rent away.
I crush the buds the clustering lilacs bear;
The same sweet fragrance that I loved is there;
The same fresh hues each opening disk reveals;
Soft as of old each silken petal feels;
The birch's rind its flavor still retains,
Its boughs still ringing with the self-same strains;
Above, around, rekindling Nature claims
Her glorious altars wreathed in living flames;
Undimmed, unshadowed, far as morning shines
Feeds with fresh incense her eternal shrines.
Lost in her arms, her burning life I share,
Breathe the wild freedom of her perfumed air,
From Heaven's fair face the long-drawn shadows roll,
And all its sunshine floods my opening soul!

See, while I speak, my fireside joys return,
The lamp rekindles and the ashes burn,
The dream of summer fades before their ray,
As in red firelight sunshine dies away.
A two-fold picture; ere the first was gone,
The deepening outline of the next was drawn,
And wavering fancy hardly dares to choose
The first or last of her dissolving views.

No Delphic sage is wanted to divine
The shape of Truth beneath my gauzy line;
Yet there are truths, like schoolmates, once well known,
But half remembered, not enough to own,
That, lost from sight in life's bewildering train,
May be, like strangers, introduced again,
Dressed in new feathers, as from time to time
May please our friends, the milliners of rhyme.

Trust not, it says, the momentary hue
Whose false complexion paints the present view;
Red, yellow, violet stain the rainbow's light,
The prism dissolves, and all again is white.

But how, alas! among our eager race,
Shall smiling candor show her girlish face?
What place is secret to the meddling crew.
Whose trade is settling what we all shall do?
What verdict sacred from the busy fools,
That sell the jargon of their outlaw schools?
What pulpit certain to be never vexed
With libels sanctioned by a holy text?
Where, my country, is the spot that yields
The freedom fought for on a hundred fields?

Not one strong tyrant holds the servile chain,
Where all may vote and each may hope to reign;
One sturdy cord a single limb may bind.
And leave the captive only half confined,
But the free spirit finds its legs and wings
Tied with unnumbered Lilliputian strings,
Which, like the spider's undiscovered fold,
In countless meshes round the prisoner rolled,
With silken pressure that he scarce can feel,
Clamp every fibre as in bands of steel!

Hard is the task to point in civil phrase
One's own dear people s foolish works or ways;
Woe to the friend that marks a touchy fault,
Himself obnoxious to the world's assault!
Think what an earthquake is a nation's hiss.
That takes its circuit through a land like this;
Count with the census, would you be precise,
From sea to sea, from oranges to ice;
A thousand myriads are its virile lungs,
A thousand myriads its contralto tongues!

And oh, remember the indignant press;
Honey is bitter to its fond caress,
But the black venom that its hate lets fall
Would shame to sweetness the hyena's gall!

Briefly and gently let the task be tried
To touch some frailties on their tender side;
Not to dilate on each imagined wrong,
And spoil at once our temper and our song,
But once or twice a passing gleam to throw
On some rank failings ripe enough to show,
Patterns of others, made of common stuff,
The world will furnish parallels enough,
Such as bewilder their contracted view,
Who make one pupil do the work of two:
Who following nature, where her tracks divide.
Drive all their passions on the narrower side,
And pour the phials of their virtuous wrath
On half mankind that take the wider path.

Nature is liberal to her inmost soul,
She loves alike the tropic and the pole,
The storm's wild anthem, and the sunshine's calm,
The arctic fungus, and the desert palm;
Loves them alike, and wills that each maintain
Its destined share of her divided reign;
No creeping moss refuse her crystal gem,
No soaring pine her cloudy diadem!

Alas! her children, borrowing but in part
The flowing pulses of her generous heart,
Shame their kind mother with eternal strife
At all the crossings of their mingled life ;
Each age, each people finds its ready shifts
To quarrel stoutly o'er her choicest gifts.

History can tell of early ages dim,
When man's chief glory was in strength of limb;
Then the best patriot gave the hardest knocks,
The height of virtue was to fell an ox;
Ill fared the babe of questionable mould,
Whom its stern father happened to behold;
In vain the mother with her ample vest
Hid the poor nursling on her throbbing breast;
No tears could save him from the kitten's fate.
To live an insult to the warlike state.

This weakness passed, and nations owned once more,
Man was still human, measuring five feet four,
The anti-cripples ceased to domineer.
And owned Napoleon worth a grenadier.
In these mild times the ancient bully's sport
Would lead its hero to a well known court;
Olympian athletes, though the pride of Greece,
Must face the Justice if they broke the peace.
And valor find some inconvenient checks.
If strolling Thesens met Policeman X.

Yet when thy champion's stormy task is done,
The frigate silenced and the fortress won,
When toil-worn valor claims his laurel wreath.
His reeking cutlass slumbering in its sheath,
The fierce declaimer shall be heard once more.
Whose twang was smothered by the conflict's roar;
Heroes shall fall that strode unharmed away
Through the red heaps of many a doubtful day,
Hacked in his sermons, riddled in his prayers,
The broadcloth slashing what the broadsword spares!

Untaught by trial, ignorance might suppose
That all our fighting must be done with blows;
Alas! not so; between the lips and brain
A dread artillery masks its loaded train;
The smooth portcullis of the smiling face
Veils the grim battery with deceptive grace,
But in the flashes of its opened fire,
Truth, Honor, Justice, Peace and Love expire.

If generous fortune give me leave to choose
My saucy neighbors barefoot or in shoes,
I leave the hero blustering while he dares
On platforms furnished with posterior stairs,
Till prudence drives him to his 'earnest' legs
With large bequest of disappointed eggs,
And take the brawler whose unstudied dress
Becomes him better, and protects him less;
Give me the bullying of the scoundrel crew,
If swaggering virtue won't insult me too!

Come, let us breathe; a something not divine
Has mingled, bitter, with the flowing line.
Pause for a moment while our soul forgets
The noisy tribe in panta-loons or -lets;
Nor pass, ungrateful, by the debt we owe
To those who teach us half of all we know,
Not in rude license, or unchristian scorn,
But hoping, loving, pitying, while they warn!

Sweep out the pieces! Hound a careless room
The feather-duster follows up the broom;
If the last target took a round of grape
To knock its beauty something out of shape,
The next asks only, if the listener please,
A schoolboy's blowpipe and a gill of peas.

This creeping object, caught upon the brink
Of an old teacup, filled with muddy ink,
Lives on a leaf that buds from time to time
In certain districts of a temperate clime.
O'er this he toils in silent corners snug,
And leaves a track behind him, like a slug;
The leaves he stains a humbler tribe devours,
Thrown off in monthly or in weekly showers;
Himself kept savage on a starving fare,
Of such exuviae as his friends can spare.

Let the bug drop, and view him if we can
In his true aspect as a quasi man.
The little wretch, whose terebrating powers
Would bore a Paixhan in a dozen hours,
Is called a CRITIC by the heavy friends
That help to pay his minus dividends.
The pseudo-critic-editorial race
Owns no allegiance but the law of place;
Each to his region sticks through thick and thin,
Stiff as a beetle spiked upon a pin.
Plant him in Boston, and his sheet he fills
With all the slipslop of his threefold hills,
Talks as if Nature Kept her choicest smiles
Within his radius of a dozen miles,
And nations waited till his next Review
Had made it plain what Providence must do.
Would you believe him, water is not damp
Except in buckets with the Hingham stamp.
And Heaven should build the walls of Paradise
Of Quincy granite lined with Wenham ice.

But Hudson's banks, with more congenial skies,
Swell the small creature to alarming size:
A gayer pattern wraps his flowery chest,
A sham more brilliant sparkles on his breast,
An eyeglass, hanging from a gilded chain,
Taps the white leg that tips his rakish cane;
Strings of new names, the glories of the age,
Hang up to dry on his exterior page,
Titanic pygmies, shining lights obscure,
His favored sheets have managed to secure,
Whose wide renown beyond their own abode
Extends for miles along the Harlaem road;
New radiance lights his patronizing smile,
New airs distinguish his patrician style,
New sounds are mingled with his fatal hiss,
Oftenest 'provincial' and 'metropolis.'

He cry 'provincial' with imperious brow!
The half-bred rogue, that groomed his mother's cow!
Fed on coarse tubers and Aeolian beans
Till clownish manhood crept among his teens,
When, after washing and unheard of pains
To lard with phrases his refractory brains,
A third-rate college licked him to the shape,
Not of the scholar, but the scholar's ape!

God bless Manhattan! Let her fairly claim,
With all the honors due her ancient name,
Worth, wisdom, wealth, abounding and to spare,
Rags, riots, rogues, at least her honest share;
But not presume, because, by sad mischance,
The mobs of Paris wring the neck of France,
Fortune has ordered she shall turn the poise
Of thirty Empires with her Bowery boys!
The poorest hamlet on the mountain's side
Looks on her glories with a sister's pride;
When the first babes her fruitful ship-yards wean
Play round the breasts of Ocean's conquered queen,
The shout of millions, borne on every breeze,
Sweeps with EXCELSIOR o'er the enfranchised seas!

Yet not too rashly let her think to bind
Beneath her circlet all the nation's mind;
Our star-crowned mother, whose informing soul
Clings to no fragment, but pervades the whole,
Views with a smile the clerk of Maiden Lane,
Who takes her ventral ganglion for her brain!
No fables tell us of Minervas born
From bags of cotton or from sacks of corn;
The halls of Leyden Science used to cram,
While dulness snored in purse-proud Amsterdam!

But those old burghers had a foggy clime,
And better luck may come the second time;
What though some churls of doubtful sense declare
That poison lurks in her commercial air,
Her buds of genius dying premature,
From some malaria draining cannot cure;
Nay, that so dangerous is her golden soil,
Wnate'er she borrows she contrives to spoil;
That drooping minstrels in a few brief years
Lose their sweet voice, the gift of other spheres;
That wafted singing from their native shore,
They touch the Battery, and are heard no more;
By those twinned waves that wear the varied gleams
Beryl or sapphire mingles in their streams,
Till the fair sisters o'er her yellow sands,
Clasping their soft and snowy ruffled hands,
Lay on her footstool with their silver keys
Strength from the mountains, freedom from the seas,
Some future day may see her rise sublime
Above her counters, only give her time!

When our first Soldiers' swords of honor gild
The stately mansions that her tradesmen build;
When our first Statesmen take the Broadway track,
Our first Historians following at their back;
When our first Painters, dying, leave behind
On her proud walls the shadows of their mind;
When our first Poets flock from farthest scenes
To take in hand her pictured Magazines;
When our first Scholars are content to dwell
Where their own printers teach them how to spell;
When world-known Science crowds toward her gates,
Then shall the children of our hundred States
Hail her a true METROPOLIS of men,
The nation's centre. Then, and not till then!

The song is failing. Yonder clanging tower
Shakes in its cup the more than brimming hour;
The full-length gallery which the fates deny,
A colored Moral briefly must supply.

The song is passing. Let its meaning rise
To loftier notes before its echo dies,
Nor leave, ungracious, in its parting train.
A trivial flourish or discordant strain.

These lines may teach, rough-spoken though they be,
Thy gentle creed, divinest Charity!
Truth is at heart not always as she seems,
Judged by our sleeping or our waking dreams.

The song is hushed. Another moment parts
This breathing zone, this belt of living hearts;
Ah, think not thus the parting moment ends
The soul's embrace of new discovered friends.

Sleep on my heart, thou long expected hour,
Time's new-born daughter, with thine infant dower,
One sad, sweet look from those expiring charms
The clasping centuries strangle in their arms,
Dreams of old halls, and shadowy arches green,
And kindly faces loved as soon as seen!
Sleep, till the fires of manhood fade away,
The sprinkled locks have saddened into gray,
And age, oblivious, blends thy memories old
With hoary legends that his sire has told!

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