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Surroundings-2

Evening Rainy Street

Rains in silent grey
Dozing trees on drippy leaves
Caw-coo birds sparse cry
Wheeling sounds off in hurry
Nighted street lighting tubes lined

poem by Indira Renganathan
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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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The Spring Oracle

OH prophetic bird so bright,
Blossom-songster, cuckoo bight!
In the fairest time of year,
Dearest bird, oh! deign to hear
What a youthful pair would pray,
Do thou call, if hope they may:
Thy cuck-oo, thy cuck-oo.
Ever more cuck-oo, cuck-oo!

Hearest thou? A loving pair
Fain would to the altar fare;
Yes! a pair in happy youth,
Full of virtue, full of truth.
Is the hour not fix'd by fate?
Say, how long must they still wait?
Hark! cuck-oo! hark! cuck-oo!
Silent yet! for shame, cuck-oo!

'Tis not our fault, certainly!
Only two years patient be!
But if we ourselves please here,
Will pa-pa-papas appear?
Know that thou'lt more kindness do us,
More thou'lt prophesy unto us.
One! cuck-oo! Two! cuck-oo!
Ever, ever, cuck-oo, cuck-oo, coo!

If we've calculated clearly,
We have half a dozen nearly.
If good promises we'll give,
Wilt thou say how long we'II live?
Truly, we'll confess to thee,
We'd prolong it willingly.
Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo,
Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo!

Life is one continued feast--
(If we keep no score, at least).
If now we together dwell,
Will true love remain as well?
For if that should e'er decay,
Happiness would pass away.
Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo,
Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo!

poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Coo Coo Ca Choo

Coo coo ca choo baby you that's what you are
You are a hollywood star you're the high priestess by far
And you know this tune's for you we call it coo coo ca choo
And it's a very brief description of the things we could do to you

You were looking at me I was looking at you
Coo coo ca choo coo coo ca choo
You were looking at me I was looking at you
Coo coo ca choo now what ya gonna do

Oil me up quick miss daisy before I'm lubing up your tailpipe
Or the bedposts will be a knocking and a knocking 'til the break of light
Raised and dazed in a million and one ways
Like a Morton coffee roll I want you hot and glazed
So you're the real thing baby you're Parkay you're not butter
Gonna have to get you home and lube you up with fluff-n-nutter
Scope it scope it baby looking so fit
Playing games and laying dames you know I know you know it
Now you're quick to get the condom you know the Jimmy's gonna fit you snug
Lean you against the fire place and ride you on the bear skin rug
Chow down my Ding Dong come and sing along
Slip a grip around my tip and then you'll be my Klingon
Yeah in my sweat pants you're gonna see my erection
Ooh oh pick a de pop pop perfection
Umpla dumpla dippedee do
Cause I'd never leave the house if mommy looked like you

You were looking at me I was looking at you
Coo coo ca choo coo coo ca choo
You were looking at me I was looking at you
Coo coo ca choo now what ya gonna do

Butter up butter cup did ya think it'd really last long
My attention span hutches when you wake up know that I'll be gone
Cocoa butter beach blonde wearing that thin thong
You know I got a thing for you it's only an inch long
Now I'm picking up your signals like a TV station
I'm looking for the channel to have immoral applications
Looking so fine Cosmo behind
Fermentation of time like Reunite wine
Well I'm bubbling up and steaming like an active volcano
I think I clogged up all your pipes better get yourself some Draino
I get annoyed cause I can't avoid
Baby sounding like a mongoloid
I gots the skills to keep ya busy all night
If you do not bite I hope you blow like dynamite
Happy thanksgiving would you like a little white meat?
I'll stuff my Butterballs and you eat

You were looking at me I was looking at you

[...] Read more

song performed by Bloodhound Gang
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Am The Walrus

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together
See how we run like pigs from a gun, see how we fly, Im cryin
Sitting on a cornflake, Im waiting for the van to come
Corporation t-shirts, stupid bloody tuesday, man youve been a naughty boy
You let your face grow long
I am the egg man
We are the egg men
I am the walrus
Coo coo ca choo
Mister city, policemen city, pretty little policemen in a row
See how they fly like lucy in the sky, see how we run, Im cryin
Im cry, Im cryin, Im cry
Yellow mound of custard, dripping from a dead dogs eye
Grab a locker fish-wife, pornographic priestess, man youve been a
Naughty girl you let your knickers down
I am the egg man
We are the egg men
I am the walrus
Coo coo ca choo, coo coo coo ca choo
Sitting in an english garden waiting for the sun
If the sun dont come you get your tan from standing in the english rain
I am the egg man
We are the egg men
And I am the walrus
Coo coo ca choo, ca coo coo ca choo
Experts sexperts, choking smokers, dont you think the joker laughs at you?
See how they spy like pigs in the sky, see how they snide, Im cryin
Semelena pilchards, climbing up the eiffel tower
Elementary penguins singing hare krishna, man you should have seen him
Kicking edgar allan poe
I am the egg man
We are the egg men
I am the walrus
Coo coo ca choo, ca coo coo ca choo
Coo coo ca choo, ca coo coo ca choo coo coo
A tu-tu-tu baw, a tu-tu-tu baw, a tu-tu-tu baw, a tu-tu-tu baw, a tu-tu-tu baw

song performed by Oasis
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad of the White Horse

DEDICATION

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But who shall look from Alfred's hood

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poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Adiemus

Ariadiamus late ariadiamus da
ari a natus late adua
A-ra-va-re tu-e va-te
a-ra-va-re tu-e va-te
a-ra-va-re tu-e va-te la-te-a
Ariadiamus late ariadiamus da
ari a natus late adua
A-ra-va-re tu-e va-te
a-ra-va-re tu-e va-te
a-ra-va-re tu-e va-te la-te-a
A-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la...
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la........
ah-ya-doo-ah-eh
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la.....
a-ya-doo-ah-eh...
a-ya doo a-ye
a-ya doo a-ye
****
A-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la...
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la........
ah-ya-doo-ah-eh
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la.....
a-ya-doo-ah-eh...
a-ya doo a-ye
a-ya doo a-ye
---
a-ri-a-di-a-mus la-te
a-ri-a-di-a-mus da
a-i-a na-tus la-te a-du-a.
A-ra-va-re tu-e va-te
a-ra-va-re tu-e va-te
a-ra-va-re tu-e va-te la-te-a.
A-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la...
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la........
ah-ya-doo-ah-eh
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la.....
a-ya-doo-ah-eh...
a-ya doo a-ye
a-ya doo a-ye
ya-ka-ma ya-ma-ya-ka-ya me-ma
a-ya-coo-ah-eh mena
ya-ka-ma ya-ma-ya-ka-ya me-ma
a-ya-coo-ah-eh mena
ya----ka--ma me--ah

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song performed by Enya
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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

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poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Senlin: His Futile Preoccupations

1

I am a house, says Senlin, locked and darkened,
Sealed from the sun with wall and door and blind.
Summon me loudly, and you'll hear slow footsteps
Ring far and faint in the galleries of my mind.
You'll hear soft steps on an old and dusty stairway;
Peer darkly through some corner of a pane,
You'll see me with a faint light coming slowly,
Pausing above some gallery of the brain . . .

I am a city . . . In the blue light of evening
Wind wanders among my streets and makes them fair;
I am a room of rock . . . a maiden dances
Lifting her hands, tossing her golden hair.
She combs her hair, the room of rock is darkened,
She extends herself in me, and I am sleep.
It is my pride that starlight is above me;
I dream amid waves of air, my walls are deep.

I am a door . . . before me roils the darkness,
Behind me ring clear waves of sound and light.
Stand in the shadowy street outside, and listen--
The crying of violins assails the night . . .
My walls are deep, but the cries of music pierce them;
They shake with the sound of drums . . . yet it is strange
That I should know so little what means this music,
Hearing it always within me change and change.

Knock on the door,--and you shall have an answer.
Open the heavy walls to set me free,
And blow a horn to call me into the sunlight,--
And startled, then, what a strange thing you will see!
Nuns, murderers, and drunkards, saints and sinners,
Lover and dancing girl and sage and clown
Will laugh upon you, and you will find me nowhere.
I am a room, a house, a street, a town.

2

It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning
When the light drips through the shutters like the dew,
I arise, I face the sunrise,
And do the things my fathers learned to do.
Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops
Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die,
And I myself on a swiftly tilting planet
Stand before a glass and tie my tie.

Vine leaves tap my window,

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poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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The King of the Vasse

A LEGEND OF THE BUSH.

MY tale which I have brought is of a time
Ere that fair Southern land was stained with crime,
Brought thitherward in reeking ships and cast
Like blight upon the coast, or like a blast
From angry levin on a fair young tree,
That stands thenceforth a piteous sight to see.
So lives this land to-day beneath the sun,—
A weltering plague-spot, where the hot tears run,
And hearts to ashes turn, and souls are dried
Like empty kilns where hopes have parched and died.
Woe's cloak is round her,—she the fairest shore
In all the Southern Ocean o'er and o'er.
Poor Cinderella! she must bide her woe,
Because an elder sister wills it so.
Ah! could that sister see the future day
When her own wealth and strength are shorn away,
A.nd she, lone mother then, puts forth her hand
To rest on kindred blood in that far land;
Could she but see that kin deny her claim
Because of nothing owing her but shame,—
Then might she learn 'tis building but to fall,
If carted rubble be the basement-wall.

But this my tale, if tale it be, begins
Before the young land saw the old land's sins
Sail up the orient ocean, like a cloud
Far-blown, and widening as it neared,—a shroud
Fate-sent to wrap the bier of all things pure,
And mark the leper-land while stains endure.
In the far days, the few who sought the West
Were men all guileless, in adventurous quest
Of lands to feed their flocks and raise their grain,
And help them live their lives with less of pain
Than crowded Europe lets her children know.
From their old homesteads did they seaward go,
As if in Nature's order men must flee
As flow the streams,—from inlands to the sea.

In that far time, from out a Northern land,
With home-ties severed, went a numerous band
Of men and wives and children, white-haired folk:
Whose humble hope of rest at home had broke,
As year was piled on year, and still their toil
Had wrung poor fee from -Sweden's rugged soil.
One day there gathered from the neighboring steads,
In Jacob Eibsen's, five strong household heads,—
Five men large-limbed and sinewed, Jacob's sons,

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poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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It's a Cool Coo

I can't sleep at night,
'Cause I like to hear your voice...
Moan.
I hope you're there home alone.
And I'm tempted just to telephone.
I feel alone.

Just to hear you,
Moan.
And maybe get something going on!
Even if it's on the telephone.

The first time we did it,
It was good to me.
I didn't want to act,
Like you had me like that.
Or wanted you so quickly,
Back in my sack.
But you've got it going on.
And when you moan...
I've got to groan.

I wish you could be here...
To coo.
Like you coo when we move.
I love your cooin' when we do it...
It's a cool coo.

The first time we did it,
It was good to me.
I didn't want to act,
Like you had me like that.
Or wanted you so quickly,
Back in my sack.
But you've got it going on.
And when you moan...
I've got to groan.

I can't sleep at night,
'Cause I like to hear your voice...
Moan.
I hope you're there home alone.
And I'm tempted just to telephone.
I feel all alone.

I wish you could be here...
To coo.
Like you coo when we move...
And you coo coo.
Coo coo.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hide and Seek

All the trees are sleeping, all the winds are still,
All the flocks of fleecy clouds have wandered past the hill;
Through the noonday silence, down the woods of June,
Hark, a little hunter's voice comes running with a tune.
"Hide and seek!
"When I speak,
"You must answer me:
"Call again,
"Merry men,
"Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"

Now I hear his footsteps, rustling through the grass:
Hidden in my leafy nook, shall I let him pass?
Just a low, soft whistle,--quick the hunter turns,
Leaps upon me laughing, rolls me in the ferns.
"Hold him fast,
"Caught at last!
"Now you're it, you see.
"Hide your eye,
"Till I cry,
"Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"

II

Long ago he left me, long and long ago:
Now I wander through the world and seek him high and low;
Hidden safe and happy, in some pleasant place,--
Ah, if I could hear his voice, I soon should find his face.
Far away,
Many a day,
Where can Barney be?
Answer, dear,
Don't you hear?
Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!

Birds that in the spring-time thrilled his heart with joy,
Flowers he loved to pick for me, mind me of my boy.
Surely he is waiting till my steps come nigh;
Love may hide itself awhile, but love can never die.
Heart, be glad,
The little lad
Will call some day to thee:
"Father dear,
"Heaven is here,
"Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"

poem by Henry Van Dyke
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The Windigo

Go easy wit' de paddle, an' steady wit' de
oar
Geev rudder to de bes' man you got among
de crew,
Let ev'ry wan be quiet, don't let dem sing no
more
W'en you see de islan' risin' out of Grande
Lac Manitou
Above us on de sky dere, de summer cloud
may float
Aroun' us on de water de ripple never show,
But somet'ing down below us can rock de
stronges' boat,
W'en we 're comin' near de islan' of de
spirit Windigo!

De carcajou may breed dere, an' otter sweem
de poole
De moosh-rat mak' de mud house, an' beaver
buil' hees dam
An' beeges' Injun hunter on all de Tête de
Boule
Will never set hees trap dere from spring
to summer tam.

But he 'll bring de fines' presen' from upper
St. Maurice
De loup marin an' black-fox from off de
Hodson Bay
An' hide dem on de islan' an' smoke de pipe
of peace
So Windigo will help heem w'en he travel
far away.

We shaintee on dat islan' on de winter seexty-
nine
If you look you see de clearin' aroun' de
Coo Coo Cache,
An' pleasan' place enough too among de spruce
an' pine
If foreman on de shaintee is n't Cyprien
Palache.

Beeg feller, alway watchin' on hees leetle
weasel eye,
De gang dey can't do not'ing but he see dem
purty quick
Wit' hees 'Hi dere, w'at you doin' ?' ev'ry
tam he 's passin' by
An' de bad word he was usin' , wall! it offen

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poem by William Henry Drummond
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Lighting Up The Candles

Lighting up the candles, lighting up our love
Lighting up the candles, lighting up our love
Lighting up the candles
To what use to be
Tender memories in moments of love
Happy times and bad times
All seem wonderful
When you have a toast to moments of love
Lighting up the candles, lighting up our love
Lighting up the candles
To what use to be
Tender memories in moments of love
Happy times and bad times
All seem wonderful
When you have a toast to moments of love
I really think we could have made it
To that forever and a day
But destiny and fate decided
They would get in our way
Lighting up the candles
Wishing you the best
Like the happiness in moments of love
For lighting up the candles
Spark the memories
Helping us to see more moments of love
I really think we could have made it
To that forever and a day
But destiny and fate decided
They would get in our way
For lighting up the candles
Spark the memories
Helping us to see the need for what was
Helping us to see more moments of love
Lighting up the candles, lighting up our love
Lighting up the candles, lighting up our love
Lighting up the candles, lighting up our love

song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lets Pretend Were Married

(prince)
Producers: carter
Album: the collected recordings (94)
B-side of the us/oz show some respect single
B-side of the uk/ger I cant stand the rain single
Excuse me but I need a love like yours
To help me forget the guy that just walked out that door
Funny but it seems that youre alone like me
If you are then lets go see, see, see
Little darlin if youre free for a couple of hours
And aint busy for the next seven years
Lets pretend were married and go all night
There aint nothin wrong if it feels all right
I wont stop until the morning light
Lets pretend were married and go all night, tonight
Ooh-we-coo-coo-sha-sha yeah
Everybody sing together
Ooh-we-coo-coo-sha-sha yeah
Excuse me but I need your tender skin
Dont you want to be my fantasy?
I dont care if you dont ever come
And if you go (so what? )
Cmon baby, lets ball
And if youre free for a couple of hours
And aint busy for the next seven years
Lets pretend were married and go all night
There aint nothin wrong if it feels all right
I wont stop until the morning light
Lets pretend were married and go all night, tonight
Ooh-we-coo-coo-sha-sha yeah
Everybody sing together
Ooh-we-coo-coo-sha-sha yeah
Ooh-we-coo-coo-sha-sha yeah
Everybody singing
Ooh-we-coo-coo-sha-sha
What you heard about me is true
I change the rules and do what I wanna do
Im in love with life, its the only way
cause you and I know we gotta go some day
If you think Im wild, youre probably right
cause Im gonna rockn roll night everyday and every night

song performed by Tina Turner
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Cremona Violin

Part First

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

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

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

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

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

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

[...] Read more

poem by Amy Lowell
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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
Will be but ill requited
If thou depart in scorn. Oh, come,
And talk of our abandoned home!
Remember, this is Italy,
And we are exiles. Talk with me
Of that our land, whose wilds and floods,
Barren and dark although they be,
Were dearer than these chestnut woods;
Those heathy paths, that inland stream,
And the blue mountains, shapes which seem
Like wrecks of childhood's sunny dream;
Which that we have abandoned now,
Weighs on the heart like that remorse
Which altered friendship leaves. I seek
No more our youthful intercourse.
That cannot be! Rosalind, speak,
Speak to me! Leave me not! When morn did come,
When evening fell upon our common home,
When for one hour we parted,--do not frown;
I would not chide thee, though thy faith is broken;
But turn to me. Oh! by this cherished token
Of woven hair, which thou wilt not disown,
Turn, as 't were but the memory of me,
And not my scornèd self who prayed to thee!

ROSALIND
Is it a dream, or do I see
And hear frail Helen? I would flee
Thy tainting touch; but former years
Arise, and bring forbidden tears;

[...] Read more

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Shelter For A Rainy Day

Key:-a - anita r - ray
A: oh....
R: shelter on a rainy day
A: you may need me like I need you
A: I see the clouds gathing in the sky
When my worries, fill my mind
What to call us, begins to fade
I wanna be with you when its starts to rain
cause I can hide in your arms
So safe and one
With you as my protection
To help me through the storm
A: you give me shelter on a rainy day
You are all that Im needed
When clouds are turning grey
You give me shelter on a rainy day
My tears have lost they meaning
Love have washed them all away
A: youve washed my tears away yeah!
Yeah yeah
A: if inside your heart, it starts to rain
Just call me up, I ease the pain
You dont even need to be alone
When the wind, begins to mour
cause whenever you may need me, like I need you
Then let me be right by your side
If love will see it through
A: you give me shelter on a rainy day
You are all that Im needed
When clouds are turning grey
You give me shelter on a rainy day
My tears have lost they meaning
Love have washed them all away
A: you give me shelter on a rainy day
On a rainy day
You are all that Im needed
When clouds are turning grey
You give me shelter
You give me shelter on a rainy day
My tears have lost they meaning
Love have washed them all away
R: a shelter on a rainy day
A lucky warm place, for you and I to stay
Hum, what youre thinking
No tell me no lies cause your eyes are blinking
Theres a place girl, down deep in my heart
You know the feeling, a relationship to star
I send my love without delay
cause you know I got a shelter on a rain day
A: you give me shelter

[...] Read more

song performed by 2 Unlimited
Added by Lucian Velea
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Narrative And Dramatic The Wanderings Of Oisin

BOOK I

S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald, and blind,
With a heavy heart and a wandering mind,
Have known three centuries, poets sing,
Of dalliance with a demon thing.

Oisin. Sad to remember, sick with years,
The swift innumerable spears,
The horsemen with their floating hair,
And bowls of barley, honey, and wine,
Those merry couples dancing in tune,
And the white body that lay by mine;
But the tale, though words be lighter than air.
Must live to be old like the wandering moon.

Caoilte, and Conan, and Finn were there,
When we followed a deer with our baying hounds.
With Bran, Sceolan, and Lomair,
And passing the Firbolgs' burial-motmds,
Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill
Where passionate Maeve is stony-still;
And found On the dove-grey edge of the sea
A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode
On a horse with bridle of findrinny;
And like a sunset were her lips,
A stormy sunset on doomed ships;
A citron colour gloomed in her hair,

But down to her feet white vesture flowed,
And with the glimmering crimson glowed
Of many a figured embroidery;
And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell
That wavered like the summer streams,
As her soft bosom rose and fell.

S. Patrick. You are still wrecked among heathen dreams.

Oisin. 'Why do you wind no horn?' she said
'And every hero droop his head?
The hornless deer is not more sad
That many a peaceful moment had,
More sleek than any granary mouse,
In his own leafy forest house
Among the waving fields of fern:
The hunting of heroes should be glad.'

'O pleasant woman,' answered Finn,
'We think on Oscar's pencilled urn,
And on the heroes lying slain

[...] Read more

poem by William Butler Yeats
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County Fair

This time each year in our hometown
The county fair comes our way
Where the folks gather round to be happy and spend their day
A-heres what happened now,
I soon decide that Id take with me
The most specialest girl I knew
I had her pack us a lunch and on down the dirt road we flew
(hurry hurry, step right up and win your girl a stuffed koala bear)
[aw, come on nicky. win me a koala bear]
(break the balloon with a dart)
(yes you son, come up here. win your girl a stuffed koala bear)
[oh please win me a koala bear]
(break the balloon with a dart. come on son, step right up)
(get up there, thats a boy)
Right then I knew what I had to do
(hurry, hurry)
Before that day was through
(step right up)
I had to win a stuffed doggie or Id break her poor heart in two
(hurry, hurry)
(win a prize)
A let me tell you now,
I passed up a chance when I walked by a booth
(hurry, hurry)
Where you throw a dart and break a balloon
(step right up)
I snuck by a couple more, but I had to get caught real soon
(hurry, hurry)
(win a prize)
(step right up, test your strength.)
(come on son, ring the bell with the hammer)
[aww, come on muscles]
(win your girl a stuffed koala bear)
[ooohhh]
(come on son, are you a man or a weakling? )
(yes you, step up here and test your strength)
(win your girl a stuffed koala bear)
[come on baby]
(come on son)
I hit the rubber stump just as hard as I could
(hurry, hurry)
But I didnt make it ring the bell
(step right up)
I tried again and again, but I just didnt do so well
(hurry, hurry)
(win a prize)
Can you believe it now,
Up walked a fella and he tapped me on the shoulder, said
(hurry, hurry)
I can win your girl a prize

[...] Read more

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Seasonable Retour-Knell

SEASONABLE RETOUR KNELL
Variations on a theme...
SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS

Author notes

A mirrored Retourne may not only be read either from first line to last or from last to first as seen in the mirrors, but also by inverting the first and second phrase of each line, either rhyming AAAA or ABAB for each verse. thus the number of variations could be multiplied several times.- two variations on the theme have been included here but could have been extended as in SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS robi03_0069_robi03_0000

In respect of SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS
This composition has sought to explore linguistic potential. Notes and the initial version are placed before rather than after the poem.
Six variations on a theme have been selected out of a significant number of mathematical possibilities using THE SAME TEXT and a reverse mirror for each version. Mirrors repeat the seasons with the lines in reverse order.

For the second roll the first four syllables of each line are reversed, and sense is retained both in the normal order of seasons and the reversed order as well... The 3rd and 4th variations offer ABAB rhyme schemes retaining the original text. The 5th and 6th variations modify the text into rhyming couplets.

Given the linguistical structure of this symphonic composition the score could be read in inversing each and every line and each and every hemistitch. There are minor punctuation differences between versions.

One could probably attain sonnet status for each of the four seasons and through partioning in 3 groups of 4 syllables extend the possibilites ad vitam.

Seasonable Round Robin Roll Reversals
robi03_0069_robi03_0000 QXX_DNZ
Seasonable Retour-Knell
robi03_0070_robi03_0069 QXX_NXX
26 March 1975 rewritten 20070123
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllll
For previous version see below
_______________________________________
SPRING SUMMER

Life is at ease Young lovers long
Land under plough; To hold their dear;
Whispering trees, Dewdrops among,
Answering cow. Bold, know no fear.

Blossom, the bees, Life full of song,
Burgeoning bough; Cloudless and clear;
Soft-scented breeze, Days fair and long,
Spring warms life now. Summer sends cheer.

AUTUMN WINTER

Each leaf decays, Harvested sheaves
Each life must bow; And honeyed hives;
Our salad days Trees stripped of leaves,
Are ending now. Jack Frost has knives.

Fruit heavy lays Time, Prince of thieves,
Bending the bough, - Onward he drives,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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