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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

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poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Evening Star

I travelled to a distant shore
I felt I had to go
An inner voice had called me there
But why I did not know
I saw the evening star rise up
Shining out to sea
And now I understand at last what it means
What it all means
Evening star I can see the light
Evening star guiding me so bright
I used to tempt fate
I couldnt see straight
I faltered through my younger days
Never knowing where I was going
Then something helped me penetrate the haze
Evening star I can see the light
Evening star guiding me so bright
Now I am stronger
The haze no longer
Ruins my future destiny

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song performed by Judas Priest
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In The Evening By The Moonlight

Traditional
In the evening by the moonlight
When my mother had finished working
We used to sit around the fire place
Till the cornbread it was done
And then we all would eat our supper
After that wed clean the kitchen
Its the only time they ever gave us to spare
To have a little fun
Then my daddy used to take his fiddle down
That hung upon the wall
While the silvery moon was shining clear and bright
How the folks would enjoy it
They would sit all night and listen
As we used to sing in the evening by the moonlight
In the evening by the moonlight
You could hear banjos ringing
You could hear them by the moonlight
You could hear my folks all singing
How my mother she would enjoy it

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song performed by Nina Simone
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Evening Star

(Written by Barry and Maurice Gibb)
If you never rode West of the Arizona border
You can turn the other way boy but you never get far
You be living a lie if you wanna see the wonders of the age
You must follow the evening star.
Chorus:
Evening star
Shine a little Heaven
On a stranger with no dream
Where you are.
You can see the loneliness I mean and if I gotta fight
I can never play somebody else's game
I can follow the evening star
Starlight, you never need somebody else's name
If you follow the evening star.
Have you ever known a sunset when the sky's on fire
How you end another day boy you've been searching too far
Like the desert I rode on any memory is lost in the restless wind
I just lie beneath the evening star.
Chorus:

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song performed by Kenny Rogers
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Evening Star [Luceafărul]

There was, as in the fairy-tales,
Back in the distant time,
Of royal blood, which still prevails,
A girl sweet and sublime.

The only child, with no constraints,
And fair and full of charms,
Shining like Mary among saints
And moon among the stars.

She glides through the majestic halls
As if she slowly skates,
Goes to the window where befalls
That Evening Star awaits.

Above the sea he always stays
For rises and shines bright,
Along the moving water ways
Guides all the ships at night.

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poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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Rosalind and Helen: a Modern Eclogue

ROSALIND, HELEN, and her Child.

SCENE. The Shore of the Lake of Como.

HELEN
Come hither, my sweet Rosalind.
'T is long since thou and I have met;
And yet methinks it were unkind
Those moments to forget.
Come, sit by me. I see thee stand
By this lone lake, in this far land,
Thy loose hair in the light wind flying,
Thy sweet voice to each tone of even
United, and thine eyes replying
To the hues of yon fair heaven.
Come, gentle friend! wilt sit by me?
And be as thou wert wont to be
Ere we were disunited?
None doth behold us now; the power
That led us forth at this lone hour

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poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Evening Shadows

When evening shadows fall
Minutes seem so long
When evening shadows fall
I'm waiting for the dawn
I miss you every night
Just about this time
You're always on my mind
When evening shadows fall
When evening shadows fall
End up staring at the wall
Even when you're gone
The feeling's all so strong
Want you to come on back
Back where you belong
So I can sing my song
When evening shadows fall
Well I'm living in a dream
And it s getting so late
And you call my name
And I'm wide awake

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song performed by Van Morrison
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Tamar

I
A night the half-moon was like a dancing-girl,
No, like a drunkard's last half-dollar
Shoved on the polished bar of the eastern hill-range,
Young Cauldwell rode his pony along the sea-cliff;
When she stopped, spurred; when she trembled, drove
The teeth of the little jagged wheels so deep
They tasted blood; the mare with four slim hooves
On a foot of ground pivoted like a top,
Jumped from the crumble of sod, went down, caught, slipped;
Then, the quick frenzy finished, stiffening herself
Slid with her drunken rider down the ledges,
Shot from sheer rock and broke
Her life out on the rounded tidal boulders.

The night you know accepted with no show of emotion the little
accident; grave Orion
Moved northwest from the naked shore, the moon moved to
meridian, the slow pulse of the ocean
Beat, the slow tide came in across the slippery stones; it drowned

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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie

This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.

This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it
Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian farmers,--
Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands,
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven?
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever departed!
Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts of October
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o'er the ocean
Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand-Pre.

Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is patient,
Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's devotion,
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines of the forest;

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poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Poem Of The Evening Is A Quiet Poem

THE POEM OF THE EVENING IS A QUIET POEM

The poem of the evening is a quiet poem
It comes in gentleness with tired eyes
It does not know how long it will last
It believes a fresh breeze
And a simple song
Are all its needs
To feel happiness.

The poem of the evening this evening
Believes in life
Believes in Goodness of God
Believes it will somehow be alright.

The poem of the evening this evening
May be a foolish one
But it is a quietly happy one.

We need such poems sometimes

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poem by Shalom Freedman
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