The vision must be followed by the venture. It is not enough to stare up the steps - we must step up the stairs.
quote by Vance Havner
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Gaberlunzie's Walk
The Laird is dead, the laird is dead,
An' dead is cousin John,
His henchmen ten, an' his sax merrie men,
Forbye the steward's son.
An' his ain guid gray that he strode sae gay
When hunt was up an' on,
An' the win' blew fair, an' the grews pu'd sair,
An' dawn was on Maol-don,
An' the skeigh steeds neigh'd, an' the slot-hounds bay'd,
An' up gaed the mornin' sun,
An' awa' gaed the deer wi' the merrie men's cheer,
Awa' owre the auld Maol-don,
An' awa' wi' a shout ran the rabble an' the rout,
An' awa' rode cousin John,
Wi' his horn, his horn, thro' the merry merry morn,
His hunter's horn sae shrill!
An' 't was 'Ho, heigho, hereawa',
Hereawa', hereawa'!
Ho, heigho, hereawa'!'
A' roun' the hill!
Walie! walie! they're a' gane dead,
A' owre the seas an' awa'
The laird an' his men, the sax an' the ten,
They gaed to fight and to fa'.
An' walie, an' wae, an' hech! the weary day!
The laird is dead an' a'!
A' in ae grave by the margent o' the wave
Thegither they lay doun,
Sax feet deep, where dead men sleep,
A' i' the faeman's grun'.
Foremost i' the van, wi' his bagpipes i' his han',
The steward's ae braw son,
An' next the young laird-gin the guid Lord had spared!-
A' as he led them on,
Wi' his bonnie brow bare an' his lang fair hair,
An' his bluidy braid-sword drawn;
An' hard by his chief, that in life was sae lief,
In death cam cousin John,
Wi' his horn, his horn, thro' the merry merry morn,
His hunter's horn sae shrill
When 't was 'Ho, heigho, hereawa',
Hereawa', hereawa'!'
[...] Read more
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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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.
[...] Read more
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Next Step
I wanna go up where something matters
I wanna blow up where matter scatters
I wanna live into the future
I want to give... more girl
Next step
No side stepping this time
Cross over life on the line
One thing to talk big
Go to follow thru
All set
Got to get past the present too
Dont want to reach out for yesterday
Dont want to block the shock of the new
I wanna see what new love will bring
Im gonna give all that love to you
Whats the next step
My mind is open wide
Next step
Whatll be the next step baby
Whats the next step
Im finished with the past
Next step
Wont be the last step baby
You wanna wake up with me beside you
You wanna shake off bad thoughts inside you
Were gonna walk on into tomorrow
Were gonna have more fun now
Dont look around for yesterday
No blocking out the shock of the new
Do you wanna see what new love can bring
Im gonna give all that love to you
Whats the next step
My mind is open wide
Next step
Whatll be the next step baby
Whats the next step
I havent got a clue
Next step
Wanna make the next step with you
Whats the next step
Gonna take it gonna take it
Next step
Gonna step right
Wont step back
Whats the next step
No bad songs
No bad songs
Next step
Say hey
Dont you want to take the next step
[...] Read more
song performed by Hall & Oates
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Holy Grail
From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done
In tournament or tilt, Sir Percivale,
Whom Arthur and his knighthood called The Pure,
Had passed into the silent life of prayer,
Praise, fast, and alms; and leaving for the cowl
The helmet in an abbey far away
From Camelot, there, and not long after, died.
And one, a fellow-monk among the rest,
Ambrosius, loved him much beyond the rest,
And honoured him, and wrought into his heart
A way by love that wakened love within,
To answer that which came: and as they sat
Beneath a world-old yew-tree, darkening half
The cloisters, on a gustful April morn
That puffed the swaying branches into smoke
Above them, ere the summer when he died
The monk Ambrosius questioned Percivale:
`O brother, I have seen this yew-tree smoke,
Spring after spring, for half a hundred years:
For never have I known the world without,
Nor ever strayed beyond the pale: but thee,
When first thou camest--such a courtesy
Spake through the limbs and in the voice--I knew
For one of those who eat in Arthur's hall;
For good ye are and bad, and like to coins,
Some true, some light, but every one of you
Stamped with the image of the King; and now
Tell me, what drove thee from the Table Round,
My brother? was it earthly passion crost?'
`Nay,' said the knight; `for no such passion mine.
But the sweet vision of the Holy Grail
Drove me from all vainglories, rivalries,
And earthly heats that spring and sparkle out
Among us in the jousts, while women watch
Who wins, who falls; and waste the spiritual strength
Within us, better offered up to Heaven.'
To whom the monk: `The Holy Grail!--I trust
We are green in Heaven's eyes; but here too much
We moulder--as to things without I mean--
Yet one of your own knights, a guest of ours,
Told us of this in our refectory,
But spake with such a sadness and so low
We heard not half of what he said. What is it?
The phantom of a cup that comes and goes?'
`Nay, monk! what phantom?' answered Percivale.
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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No Step
I looked out of my window, saw a stencil black,
No step. no step.
There were nervous mothers with children crying in the back.
No step. no step.
Someone bought me my ticket, now Im on the wing.
Hope my angels are watching me, do I hear them sing?
No step. no step.
Those afterburners cut in and kicked us high.
No step. no step.
The thin air shimmered, the sun cut through and burned my eye.
No step. no step.
Someone bought me my ticket, now Im on the wing.
Hope my angels are watching me, do I hear them sing?
No step.
No step no step.
No step no step.
No step no step.
Give me a jet stream schooner or a crew-legged goose.
No step. no step.
Im a clear-air jockey when they turn me loose
No step. no step.
Someone bought me my ticket to the captains seat.
Will the shakes soon leave me, will I find my feet?
No step. no step.
No step. no step.
No step.
song performed by Jethro Tull
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Game of Stare
There’s a boy with his fellow
I caught his eyes with a wander
Now the game has been played
Now you have been challenged
You better asked my name
Before anyone came
But you only stare, stare, stare
Like I annoy your safety ring
Like you can’t even think
You only stare, stare, stare
Like I lose you something
Something you can’t even win
There’s boy in the dance floor
I catch his eyes, he comes closer
Now the game is replayed
Now you better watch out
You better take me out
Before someone calls you coward
Cause you only stare, stare, stare
Like you never see me in dress
Like no one else who dares
You only stare, stare, stare
Like I steal you something
Something you can’t even think
There’s a boy in the park
He makes me catch his eyes
Now the game is forward
Now you don’t want to break up
You better have a word
Before you loose your hold
And you only stare, stare, stare
Like a puppy wants a bone
Like you’ll be lost if I’m gone
You only stare, stare, stare
Like I can give you something
Something you think you can’t win
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Baby Step Back
Now it looks to me like the same old place
In the sky it looks like rain
The same old town with the same old streets
The address has not change
You can find me there
With the door shut tight
And the one wish that remains
Baby step back baby step back
Either step up or step back
No you know I dont write no bad checks
I have no wish to repent
Ive seen a few
But whatever I do
I dont cause no accidents
Whiskey and wine help me pass the time
I dont leave no evidence
Baby step back baby step back
Either step up or step back
Baby step back baby step back
Either step up or step back
Still I dont kneel down
I was born to fight
So youd best leave me alone
Maybe Ill get much more than I need
Or much less than I should own
Last of all let me say it again
Either step up or step on
Baby step back baby step back
Either step up or step back
Baby step back baby step back
Either step up or step back
Baby walk back baby walk back
Either walk on or walk back
Baby step back ...
song performed by Gordon Lightfoot
Added by Lucian Velea
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Alastor: or, the Spirit of Solitude
Earth, Ocean, Air, belovèd brotherhood!
If our great Mother has imbued my soul
With aught of natural piety to feel
Your love, and recompense the boon with mine;
If dewy morn, and odorous noon, and even,
With sunset and its gorgeous ministers,
And solemn midnight's tingling silentness;
If Autumn's hollow sighs in the sere wood,
And Winter robing with pure snow and crowns
Of starry ice the gray grass and bare boughs;
If Spring's voluptuous pantings when she breathes
Her first sweet kisses,--have been dear to me;
If no bright bird, insect, or gentle beast
I consciously have injured, but still loved
And cherished these my kindred; then forgive
This boast, belovèd brethren, and withdraw
No portion of your wonted favor now!
Mother of this unfathomable world!
Favor my solemn song, for I have loved
Thee ever, and thee only; I have watched
Thy shadow, and the darkness of thy steps,
And my heart ever gazes on the depth
Of thy deep mysteries. I have made my bed
In charnels and on coffins, where black death
Keeps record of the trophies won from thee,
Hoping to still these obstinate questionings
Of thee and thine, by forcing some lone ghost,
Thy messenger, to render up the tale
Of what we are. In lone and silent hours,
When night makes a weird sound of its own stillness,
Like an inspired and desperate alchemist
Staking his very life on some dark hope,
Have I mixed awful talk and asking looks
With my most innocent love, until strange tears,
Uniting with those breathless kisses, made
Such magic as compels the charmèd night
To render up thy charge; and, though ne'er yet
Thou hast unveiled thy inmost sanctuary,
Enough from incommunicable dream,
And twilight phantasms, and deep noonday thought,
Has shone within me, that serenely now
And moveless, as a long-forgotten lyre
Suspended in the solitary dome
Of some mysterious and deserted fane,
I wait thy breath, Great Parent, that my strain
May modulate with murmurs of the air,
And motions of the forests and the sea,
And voice of living beings, and woven hymns
Of night and day, and the deep heart of man.
[...] Read more
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Lathmon
ARGUMENT.
Lathmon, a British prince, taking advantage of Fingal's absence on an expedition to Ireland, made a descent on Morven, and advanced within sight of Selma, the royal residence. Fingal arrived in the mean time, and Lathmon retreated to a hill, where his army was surprised by night, and himself taken prisoner by Ossian and Gaul the son of Morni. The poem opens with the first appearance of Fingal on the coast of Morven, and ends, it may be supposed, about noon the next day.
SELMA, thy halls are silent. There is no sound in the woods of Morven. The wave tumbles along on the coast. The silent beam of the sun is on the field. The daughters of Morven come forth, like the bow of the shower; they look towards green Erin for the white sails of the king. He had promised to return, but the winds of the north arose!
Who pours from the eastern hill, like a stream of darkness? It is the host of Lathmon. He has heard of the absence of Fingal. He trusts in the winds of the north. His soul brightens with joy. Why dost thou come, O Lathmon? The mighty are not in Selma. Why comest thou with thy forward spear? Will the daughters of Morven fight? But stop, O mighty stream, in thy course! Does not Lathmon behold these sails? Why dost thou vanish, Lathmon, like the mist of the lake? But the squally storm is behind thee; Fingal pursues thy steps!
The king of Morven had started from sleep, as we rolled on the dark-blue wave. He stretched his hand to his spear, his heroes rose around. We knew that he had seen his fathers, for they often descended to his dreams, when the sword of the foe rose over the land and the battle darkened before us. "Whither hast thou fled, O wind?" said the king of Morven. "Dost thou rustle in the chambers of the south? pursuest thou the shower in other lands? Why dost thou not come to my sails? to the blue face of my seas? The foe is in the land of Morven, and the king is absent far. But let each bind on his mail, and each assume his shield. Stretch every spear over the wave; let every sword be unsheathed. Lathmon is before us with his host; he that fled from Fingal on the plains of Lona. But he returns like a collected stream, and his roar is between our hills."
Such were the words of Fingal. We rushed into Carmon's bay. Ossian ascended the hill! he thrice struck his bossy shield. The rock of Morven replied: the bounding roes came forth. The foe was troubled in my presence: he collected his darkened host. I stood like a cloud on the hill, rejoicing in the arms of my youth.
Morni sat beneath a tree on the roaring waters of Strumon: his locks of age are gray: he leans forward on his staff; young Gaul is near the hero, hearing the battles of his father. Often did he rise in the fire of his soul, at the mighty deeds of Morni. The aged heard the sound of Ossian's shield; he knew the sign of war. He started at once from his place. His gray hair parted on his back. lie remembered the deeds of other years.
"My son," he said, to fair-haired Gaul, "I hear the sound of war. The king of Morven is returned; his signals are spread on the wind. Go to the halls of Strumon; bring his arms to Morni. Bring the shield of my father's latter years, for my arm begins to fail. Take thou thy armor, O Gaul! and rush to the first of thy battles. Let thine arm reach to the renown of thy fathers. Be thy course in the field like the eagle's wing. Why shouldst thou fear death, my son? the valiant fall with fame; their shields turn the dark stream of danger away; renown dwells on their aged hairs. Dost thou not see, O Gaul! low the steps of my age are honored? Morni moves forth. and the young men meet him, with silent joy, on his course. But I never fled from danger, my son! my sword lightened through the darkness of war. The stranger melted before me; the mighty were blasted in my presence."
Gaul brought the arms to Morni: the aged warrior is covered with steel. He took the spear in his hand, which was stained with the blood of the valiant. He came towards Fingal; his son attended his steps. The son of Comhal arose before him with joy, when he came in his locks of age.
"Chief of the roaring Strumon!" said the rising soul of Fingal; "do I behold thee in arms, after thy strength has failed? Often has Morni shone in fight, like the beam of the ascending sun; when he disperses the storms of the hill, and brings peace to the glittering fields. But why didst thou not rest in thine age? Thy renown is in the song. The people behold thee, and bless the departure of mighty Morni. Why didst thou not rest in thine age? The foe will vanish before Fingal!"
"Son of Comhal," replied the chief, "the strength of Morni's arm has failed. I attempt to draw the sword of my youth, but it remains in its place. I throw the spear, but it falls short of the mark. I feel the weight of my shield. We decay like the grass of the hill; our strength returns no more. I have a son, O Fingal! his soul has delighted in Morni's deeds; but his sword has not been lifted against a foe, neither has his fame begun. I come with him to the war; to direct his arm in fight. His renown will be a light to my soul in the dark hour of my departure. O that the name of Morni were forgot among the people! that the heroes would only say, 'Behold the father of Gaul!'"
"King of Strumon," Fingal replied, "Gaul shall lift the sword in fight. But he shall lift it before Fingal; my arm shall defend his youth. But rest thou in the halls of Selma, and hear of our renown. Bid the harp to be strung, and the voice of the bard to arise, that those who fall may rejoice in their fame, and the soul of Morni brighten with joy. Ossian, thou hast fought in battles: the blood of strangers is on thy spear: thy course be with Gaul in the strife; but depart not from the side of Fingal, lest the foe should find you alone, and your fame fail in my presence."
[Ossian speaks ] "I saw Gaul in his arms; my soul was mixed with his. The fire of the battle was in his eyes! he looked to the foe with joy. We spoke the words of friendship in secret; the lightning of our swords poured together; for we drew them behind the wood, and tried the strength of our arms on the empty air!"
Night came down on Morven. Fingal sat at the beam of the oak. Morni sat by his side with all his gray-waving locks. Their words were of other times, of the mighty deeds of their fathers. Three bards, at times, touched the harp: Ullin was near with his song. He sung of the mighty Comhal; but darkness gathered on Morni's brow. He rolled his red eye on Ullin: at once ceased the song of the bard. Fingal observed the aged hero, and he mildly spoke: "Chief of Strumon, why that darkness? Let the days of other years be forgot. Our fathers contended in war; but we meet together at the feast. Our swords are turned on the foe of our land: he melts before us on the field. Let the days of our fathers be forgot, hero of mossy Strumon!"
King of Morven," replied the chief, "I remember thy father with joy. He was terrible in battle, the rage of the chief was deadly. My eyes were full of tears when the king of heroes fell. The valiant fall, O Fingal! the feeble remain on the hills! How many heroes have passed away in the days of Morni! Yet I did not shun the battle; neither did I fly from the strife of the valiant. Now let the friends of Fingal rest, for the night is around, that they may rise with strength to battle against car-borne Lathmon. I hear the sound of his host, like thunder moving on the hills. Ossian! and fair-haired Gaul! ye are young and swift in the race. Observe the foes of Fingal from that woody hill. But approach them not: your fathers are near to shield you. Let not your fame fall at once. The valor of youth may fail!"
We heard the words of the chief with joy. We moved in the clang of our arms. Our steps are on the woody hill. Heaven burns with all its stars. The meteors of death fly over the field. The distant noise of the foe reached our ears. It was than Gaul spoke, in his valor: his hand half unsheathed his sword.
"Son of Fingal!" he said, "why burns the soul of Gaul? my heart beats high. My steps are disordered; my hand trembles on my sword. When I look towards the foe, my soul lightens before me. I see their sleeping host. Tremble thus the souls of the valiant in battles of the spear? How would the soul of Morni rise if we should rush on the foe? Our renown should grow in song: our steps would be stately in the eyes of the brave."
"Son of Morni," I replied, "my soul delights in war. I delight to shine in battle alone, to give my name to the bards. But what if the foe should prevail? can I behold the eyes of the king? They are terrible in his displeasure, and like the flames of death. But I will not behold them in his wrath! Ossian shall prevail or fall. But shall the fame of the vanquished rise? They pass like a shade away. But the fame of Ossian shall rise! His deeds shall be like his father's. Let us rush in our arms; son of Morni, let us rush to fight. Gaul, if thou shouldst return, go to Selma's lofty hall. Tell to Everallin that I fell with fame; carry this sword to Branno's daughter. Let her give it to Oscar, when the years of his youth shall arise."
"Son of Fingal," Gaul replied with a sigh, "shall I return after Ossian is low? What would my father say? what Fingal, the king of men? The feeble would turn their eyes and say, 'Behold Gaul, who left his friend in his blood!' Ye shall not behold me, ye feeble, but in the midst of my renown! Ossian, I have heard from my father the mighty deeds of heroes; their mighty deeds when alone! for the soul increases in danger!"
"Son of Morni," I replied, and strode before him on the heath, "our fathers shall praise our valor when they mourn our fall. A beam of gladness shall rise on their souls, when their eyes are full of tears. They will, say, 'Our sons have not fallen unknown: they spread death around them.' But why should we think of the narrow house? The sword defends the brave. But death pursues the flight of the feeble; their renown is never heard."
We rushed forward through night; we came to the roar of a stream, which bent its blue course round the foe, through trees that echoed to its sound. We came to the bank of the stream, and saw the sleeping host. Their fires were decayed on the plain: the lonely steps of their scouts were distant far. I stretched my spear before me, to support my steps over the stream. But Gaul took my hand, and spoke the words of the brave. "Shall the son of Fingal rush on the sleeping foe? Shall he come like a blast by night, when it overturns the young trees in secret? Fingal did no receive his fame, nor dwells renown on the gray hairs of Morni, for actions like these. Strike, Ossian, strike the shield, and let their thousands rise! Let them meet Gaul in his first battle, that he may try the strength of his arm."
My soul rejoiced over the warrior; my bursting tears came down. "And the foe shall meet thee, Gaul," I said: "the fame of Morni's son shall arise. But rush not too far, my hero: let the gleam of thy steel be near to Ossian. Let our hands join in slaughter. Gaul! dost thou not behold that rock? Its gray side dimly gleams to the stars. Should the foe prevail, let our back be towards the rock. Then shall they fear to approach our spears; for death is in our hands!"
I struck thrice my echoing shield. The startling foe arose. We rushed on in the sound of our arms. Their crowded steps fly over the heath. They thought that the mighty Fingal was come. The strength of their arms withered away. The sound of their flight was like that of flame, when it rushes through the blasted groves. It was then the spear of Gaul flew in its strength; it was then his sword arose. Cramo fell; and mighty Leth! Dunthormo struggled in his blood. The steel rushed through Crotho's side, as bent he rose on his spear; the black stream poured from the wound, and hissed on the half-extinguished oak. Cathmin saw the steps of the hero behind him: he ascended a blasted tree; but the spear pierced him from behind. Shrieking, panting, he fell. Moss and withered branches pursue his fall, and strew the blue arms of Gaul.
Such were thy deeds, son of Morni, in the first of thy battles. Nor slept the sword by thy side, thou last of Fingal's race! Ossian rushed forward in his strength; the people fell before him; as the grass by the stall of the boy, when he whistles along the field, and the gray beard of the thistle falls. But careless the youth moves on; his steps are towards the desert. Gray morning rose around us; the winding streams are bright along the heath. The foe gathered on a bill; and the rage of Lathmon rose. He bent the red eye of his wrath: he is silent in his rising grief. He often struck his bossy shield: and his steps are unequal on the heath. I saw the distant darkness of the hero, and I spoke to Morni's son.
[...] Read more
poem by James Macpherson
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We Walk
Up the stairs to the landing, up the stairs into the hall
Take oasis, marats bathing
We walk through the wood we walk
Up the stairs to the landing, up the stairs into the hall
Take oasis, marats bathing
We walk through the woods we walk
Take oasis take oasis take oasis take oasis
Up the stairs to the landing, up the stairs into the hall
Take oasis, marats bathing
We walk through the world we walk
Up the stairs to the landing, up the stairs into the hall
Take oasis, marats bathing
Up the stairs to the landing, up the stairs into the hall
Take oasis, marats bathing
Up the stairs to the landing, up the stairs into the hall
Into the hall
song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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III. The Other Half-Rome
Another day that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
And lamentable smile on those poor lips,
And, under the white hospital-array,
A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise
You'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again,
Alive i' the ruins. 'T is a miracle.
It seems that, when her husband struck her first,
She prayed Madonna just that she might live
So long as to confess and be absolved;
And whether it was that, all her sad life long
Never before successful in a prayer,
This prayer rose with authority too dread,—
Or whether, because earth was hell to her,
By compensation, when the blackness broke
She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue,
To show her for a moment such things were,—
Or else,—as the Augustinian Brother thinks,
The friar who took confession from her lip,—
When a probationary soul that moved
From nobleness to nobleness, as she,
Over the rough way of the world, succumbs,
Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot,
The angels love to do their work betimes,
Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God.
Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved,
She lies, with overplus of life beside
To speak and right herself from first to last,
Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave,
Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son
From the sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus,
And—with best smile of all reserved for him—
Pardon that sire and husband from the heart.
A miracle, so tell your Molinists!
There she lies in the long white lazar-house.
Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt,
Saint Anna's where she waits her death, to hear
Though but the chink o' the bell, turn o' the hinge
When the reluctant wicket opes at last,
Lets in, on now this and now that pretence,
Too many by half,—complain the men of art,—
For a patient in such plight. The lawyers first
Paid the due visit—justice must be done;
They took her witness, why the murder was.
Then the priests followed properly,—a soul
To shrive; 't was Brother Celestine's own right,
The same who noises thus her gifts abroad.
But many more, who found they were old friends,
Pushed in to have their stare and take their talk
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Stone Cold Entrance Song
*glass shatters*
Step up! cause youre the next one in line for the kill. you dont believe me but Im betting that you will.
Step up! Ill let you live a little bit with the pain that I bring. you know its only the beginning.
Step up! cause youre the next one in line for the kill. you dont believe me but Im betting that you will.
Step up! Ill let you live a little bit with the pain that I bring. you know its only the beginning.
Step up! cause youre the next one in line for the kill. you dont believe me but Im betting that you will.
Step up! Ill let you live a little bit with the pain that I bring. you know its only the beginning.
Im breaking the living inside you, something and someone to hide you.
Im breaking the living inside you, something and someone to hide you.
Im breaking the living inside you, something and someone to hide you.
Step up! cause youre the next one in line for the kill. you dont believe me but Im betting that you will.
Step up! Ill let you live a little bit with the pain that I bring. you know its only the beginning.
Step up! cause youre the next one in line for the kill. you dont believe me but Im betting that you will.
Step up! Ill let you live a little bit with the pain that I bring. you know its only the beginning.
V Im breaking the living inside you, something and someone to hide you.
Im breaking the living inside you, something and someone to hide you.
Im breaking the living inside you, something and someone to hide you.
Im breaking the living inside you, dont run away, bring it on straight to me!
Step up! cause youre the next one in line for the kill. you dont believe me but Im betting that you will.
Step up! Ill let you live a little bit with the pain that I bring. you know its only the beginning.
Step up! cause youre the next one in line for the kill. you dont believe me but Im betting that you will.
Step up! Ill let you live a little bit with the pain that I bring. you know its only the beginning.
Step up! cause youre the next one in line for the kill. you dont believe me but Im betting that you will.
Step up! Ill let you live a little bit with the pain that I bring. you know its only the beginning.
Im breaking the living inside you, something and someone to hide you.
Im breaking the living inside you, something and someone to hide you.
Im breaking the living inside you, something and someone to hide you.
Im breaking the living inside dont run away, bring it on straight to me!.
Step up! cause youre the next one in line for the kill. you dont believe me but Im betting that you will.
Step up! Ill let you live a little bit with the pain that I bring. you know its only the beginning.
Step up! cause youre the next one in line for the kill. you dont believe me but Im betting that you will.
Step up! Ill let you live a little bit with the pain that I bring. you know its only the beginning.
Step up! cause youre the next one in line for the kill. you dont believe me but Im betting that you will.
Step up! Ill let you live a little bit with the pain that I bring. you know its only the beginning.
Im breaking the living inside you, something and someone to hide you.
Im breaking the living inside you, something and someone to hide you.
Im breaking the living inside you, something and someone to hide you.
Im breaking the living inside, dont run away, bring it on straight to me!
song performed by Disturbed
Added by Lucian Velea
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199 Steps to Heaven
They were my 199 steps to heaven
Grandad found them 199 steps of hell
Angina.
But still he always climbed
Never complained
As I think he knew,
He was climbing the 199 steps to heaven.
I can't even remember
When I first did climb
just always had.
I can remember
Counting
Did it really take 199 steps to heaven?
Some debate
That there are only 198
But they were my 199 steps to heaven.
But
Then I realized that
By counting the 199 steps to heaven
Meticulously
Religiously
I was missing the view on the way up
To heaven
And it didn't really matter if it was
198 or 199
They'd always be my 199 steps to heaven.
Then my eyes were opened and I saw
the view up was just as spectacular
As the view from heaven.
And I realized how much of it I'd missed;
Counting
So I stopped and
Just admired the view
On the way up
My 199 steps to heaven.
The view, like time stood still
Old tile roof tops,
Sprawling cliff faces
And the sea.
It was always the sea for me.
Whether in a rage or in a lull
I loved it unconditionally
The long straight pier
Jutting freely.
And all this I could see
From my 199 steps to heaven.
[...] Read more
poem by Shadow Girl
Added by Poetry Lover
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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;
List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy.
PART THE FIRST
I
In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas,
Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pre
Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward,
Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without number.
Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor incessant,
Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons the flood-gates
Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the meadows.
West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards and cornfields
Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain; and away to the northward
Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the mountains
Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic
Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station descended
There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian village.
Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and of hemlock,
Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of the Henries.
Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows; and gables projecting
Over the basement below protected and shaded the doorway.
There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly the sunset
Lighted the village street and gilded the vanes on the chimneys,
Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in kirtles
Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the golden
Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles within doors
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Added by Poetry Lover
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Digimortal
One step!
As I witness the death of innocence
A predator feeding on its creation
Through the fallout of this hallucination
I walked into darkness
Must not surrender my God to anyone
Or this body will become carrion
One step closer
One step closer to my fate
One step closer
One step closer to the grave
As I witness my own degeneration
The future condemns me
Must not surrender my God to anyone
Or this body will become carrion
One step closer
One step closer to my fate
One step closer
One step closer to the grave
One step closer...
One step!
As I witness the death of innocence
A predator feeding on its creation
Through the fallout of this hallucination
I walked into darkness
Must not surrender my God to anyone
Or this body will become carrion
One step closer
One step closer to my fate
One step closer
One step closer to the grave
As I witness my own degeneration
The future condemns me
Must not surrender my God to anyone
Or this body will become carrion
One step closer
[...] Read more
song performed by Fear Factory from Digimortal
Added by Lucian Velea
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Step Into These Shoes
Step into these shoes feel this heart
Step into these shoes they might fit you
See through these eyes might be the same view
If Id lived through the same things as you
Id share the laughs, and cry the tears that you do
Chorus
Step into these shoes and feel this heart
Step into these shoes no reason to fight
Look into m mind it might fit you
Act out this part is it so different to you
Even if we dont ever agree
The only difference is cosmetically
Step into these shoes no reason to fight
Step in step into these shoes and feel this heart
Just feel my heart it beats with you
We float downstream in the same canoe
You might find the ocean faster than me
But Ill see it eventually
Step into these shoes and feel this heart
Step into these shoes no reason to fight
Step into these shoes and feel this heart
Oh feel this heart please feel it
Step into these shoes and feel this heart oh feel
This heart please feel it
Step into these shoes and feel this heart
Step in step into these shoes no reason to fight
Step in step into these shoes and feel this heart
Step in step into these shoes no reason to fight anymore
Feel this heart oh feel it
Step in step into these shoes no reason to fight
song performed by Howard Jones
Added by Lucian Velea
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Practice Every Step
Practice every step.
Do not second guess what it takes.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
There's no sleeping for someone who has a place to go,
So...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Focus on that goal,
And tighten on your hold,
And...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Do not second guess what it takes.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Every journey taken,
Must be thought of as a race...
And,
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
There's no other way to straighten out a crooked road,
So...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
No matter what you're told,
There will be some doubts and woes...
But you,
Practice every step.
Yes you,
Practice every step.
Woes you hold will eventually go,
So...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Subliminal
As I got hit by a car there was a message for me
As I went through the windshield, I noticed something
Subliminal (subliminal)
In an unnoticeable way
Important (important)
And hard to see
Subliminal (subliminal)
Subliminal (subliminal)
While lying there in my bed there was a message for me
As I went through the pillow, I noticed something
Subliminal (subliminal)
In an unnoticeable way
Important (important)
And hard to see
Subliminal (subliminal)
Subliminal (subliminal)
Subliminal (stare into the subliminal)
Subliminal (for as long as you can)
Subliminal (stare into the subliminal)
Subliminal (for as long as you can) (stare into the subliminal)
(stare into the) subliminal (stare into the subliminal) (for as long as you can)
(subliminal) subliminal (for as long as you can) (stare into the subliminal)
(stare into the) subliminal (stare into the subliminal) (for as long as you can)
(subliminal) subliminal (for as long as you can) (stare into the subliminal)
(stare into the) subliminal (stare into the subliminal) (for as long as you can)
(subliminal) subliminal (for as long as you can) (stare into the subliminal)
(stare into the) subliminal (stare into the subliminal) (for as long as you can)
(subliminal) subliminal (for as long as you can) (stare into the subliminal)
song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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Im Gonna Walk Dem Golden Stairs
(words & music by cully holt)
Im gonna walk, walk dem golden stairs
cause I know my jesus answers all my prayers
Well, well I know when he calls me to my home on high
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die, when I die
Oh lord you know I can hardly wait
To reach that suite by and by by by
And now I see those per, per, pearly gate
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die, when I die
Well, well, well
Im gonna walk, walk dem golden stairs
cause I know my jesus answers all my prayers
Well, well I know when he calls me to my home on high
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die, when I die
When jesus says to me well done
And all my cares are laid by
Ill lay down my soul, my battles are won
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die when I die
Well, well, well
Im gonna walk, walk dem golden stairs
cause I know my jesus answers all my prayers
Well, well I know when he calls me to my home on high
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die, when I die
Well, well
Im gonna walk, walk dem golden stairs
cause I know my jesus answers all my prayers
Well, well I know when he calls me to my home on high
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die, when I die
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Work That Body
(diana ross/r. chew)
All right
Get ready
Were gonna work that body
Reach 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
Strech 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
Push 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
(up 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8)
Every morning when we wake
To make up for that piece of cake
We ate last night
What do you do?
We do whats right, alright
Throw our hands up in the air
One foot here
And one foot there
Were so tight
Thats alright, alright
Take a look girls
At these numbers
Were still improving
Got these bodies moving
Everybodys gonna hate you
There will be no doubt
Eat your heart out
Dont think were out of line
When all the men around
Begin to stop and stare
At the hottest girls
Were the hottest girls in town
Reach 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
Strech 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
Push 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
(up 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8)
Reach 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
Strech 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
Push 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
(up 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8)
Ah, youre looking good
Youre looking good
Down, shake down
Right 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
Move to the right foot 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
Shake down 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
Shake down
Move to the left feet 1, 2, 3, 4
Work that body 5, 6
Right 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
Left 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
Shake down
[...] Read more
song performed by Diana Ross
Added by Lucian Velea
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