Quotes about tune, page 4
Three Marching Songs
REMEMBER all those renowned generations,
They left their bodies to fatten the wolves,
They left their homesteads to fatten the foxes,
Fled to far countries, or sheltered themselves
In cavern, crevice, or hole,
Defending Ireland's soul.
Be still, be still, what can be said?
My father sang that song,
But time amends old wrong,
All that is finished, let it fade.
Remember all those renowned generations,
Remember all that have sunk in their blood,
Remember all that have died on the scaffold,
Remember all that have fled, that have stood,
Stood, took death like a tune
On an old,tambourine.
Be still, be still, what can be said?
My father sang that song,
But time amends old wrong,
And all that's finished, let it fade.
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poem by William Butler Yeats
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I can EMIT TIME
'I Can! ' EMIT TIME
Kindly Refer to Notes
.
.
This retourne shows how Time bright glows,
Inspiring plan Life offers man,
Maintains red rose, sustains verse, prose,
Egg, chicken, span, - ensure ‘I can! ’
TIME’s sum’s not dumb, repeating drum
Inspiring plan Life offers man,
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Illicit
Of what she said to me that night—no matter.
The strange thing came next day.
My brain was full of music—something she played me;
I couldn't remember it all, but phrases of it
Wreathed and wreathed among faint memories,
Seeking for something, trying to tell me something,
Urging to restlessness, verging on grief.
I tried to play the tune, from memory—
But memory failed: the chords and discords climbed
And found no resolution, only hung there,
And left me morbid. Where, then, had I heard it? ...
What secret dusty chamber was it hinting?
'Dust,' it said, 'dust .... and dust .... and sunlight ....
A cold clear April evening .... snow-bedraggled ....
Rain-worn snow dappling the hideous grass ....
And someone walking alone; and someone saying
That all must end, for the time had come to go ... .'
These were the phrases; but behind, beneath them,
A greater shadow moved, and in this shadow
I stood and guessed Was it the blue-eyed lady?
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poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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The House Of Dust: Part 03: 04: Illicit
Of what she said to me that night—no matter.
The strange thing came next day.
My brain was full of music—something she played me—;
I couldn't remember it all, but phrases of it
Wreathed and wreathed among faint memories,
Seeking for something, trying to tell me something,
Urging to restlessness: verging on grief.
I tried to play the tune, from memory,—
But memory failed: the chords and discords climbed
And found no resolution—only hung there,
And left me morbid . . . Where, then, had I heard it? . . .
What secret dusty chamber was it hinting?
'Dust', it said, 'dust . . . and dust . . . and sunlight . .
A cold clear April evening . . . snow, bedraggled,
Rain-worn snow, dappling the hideous grass . . .
And someone walking alone; and someone saying
That all must end, for the time had come to go . . . '
These were the phrases . . . but behind, beneath them
A greater shadow moved: and in this shadow
I stood and guessed . . . Was it the blue-eyed lady?
[...] Read more
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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An Orchard Dance
All work is over at the farm
And men and maids are ripe for glee;
Love slips among them sly and warm
Or calls them to the chestnut-tree.
As Colin looks askance at Jane
He draws his hand across his mouth;
She understands the rustic pain,
And something of the tender south
About her milkmaid beauty flits.
Her dress of lilac print for guide
Draws shepherd Colin where she sits,
Who, faring to her lovely side
To snatch his evening pension tries,
But skimming like a bird from clutch
The maid escapes his Cupid touch,
And speeding down a passage flies
Not fast enough to cheat his eyes.
Ah, sweet-lip ways and sweet-lip days,
And sweetheart captures of the waist,
How swiftly still the virgin runs
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poem by Norman Rowland Gale
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Broken Song
Kasinath the new young singer fills the hall with sound:
The seven notes dance in his throat like seven tame birds.
His voice is a sharp sword slicing and thrusting everywhere,
It darts like lightening - no knowing where it will go when.
He sets deadly traps for himself, then cuts them away:
The courtiers listen in amazement, give frequent gasps of praise.
Only the old king Pratap Ray sits like wood, unmoved.
Haraj Lal is the only singer he likes, all others leave him cold.
From childhood he has spent so long listening to him sing -
Rag Kafi during holi, cloud-songs during the rains,
Songs for Durga at dawn in autumn, songs to bid her farewell -
His heart swelled when he heard them and his eyes swam with tears.
And on days when friends gathered and filled the hall
There were cowherds' songs of Krsna, in raags Bhupali and Multan.
So many nights of wedding-festivity have passed in that royal house:
Servants dressed in red, hundreds of lamps alight:
The bridegroom sitting shyly in his finery and jewels,
Young friends teasing him and whispering in his ear:
Before him, singing raag Sahana, sits Baraj Lal.
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poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Between Dark Past and Future Flight
Between dark past and future flight
Effect and Cause we question quite,
rhyme time between midnight and noon
to read, mark, learn, digest this tune.
Soul travels far, ka’s second sight
scouts out from dune to blue lagoon -
with moral codes plays fey buffoon.
Between dark past and future flight
the butterfly finds wings for flight
although, in silk spin knit cocoon,
it knows not dawn from afternoon.
Mind mirage magic may excite
confusing notions – far and soon
merge premonition’s present boon.
Between dark past and future flight
trace space, expand and pace delight ~
from morn till midnight one should learn
to seed born insight, harvest earn,
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Must Be The Music (Unreleased Demo 1992)
sometimes i listen to what people try to say
then when i tune in
i think, no that's not the way
sometimes i listen to what people have to say
then when i tune in
i think, no that's not the way
it must be the music
it sounds so confusing
it must be the music
thats opening my eyes
it must be the music
sounds so confusing
it must be the music
when people realise
sometimes i listen to what people try to say
then when i tune in
i think, no that's not the way
sometimes i listen to what people have to say
then when i tune in
i seem so far away
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song performed by Oasis
Added by Lucian Velea
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Crippled Crow
Beggar standin' on the corner sing your song sing it for a dime
Give them all the pain you carried down the line
Music's flying past their ears rising like a burble those who herd will follow
The out of tune ravings of the crippled crow movin' down the ladder slow
Where your friends on knee will help you
And the cup of tin you carry is just the ticket to get you in
Beggar standin' on the corner dry your eyes your time is nigh
The tears your tastin' are only salty time
Your music's lasted through the years
Goin' through your troubles for the herd to follow
The out of tune ravings...
The crown of thorns you're wearin' is just the ticket to get you in
The out of tune ravings...
The out of tune ravings...
song performed by Kris Kristofferson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Must Be The Music
Sometimes I listen to what people try to say
And then when I tune in I think, no thats not the way
Sometimes I listen to what people have to say
And then when I tune in I think, no thats not the way
It must be the music
It sounds so confusing
It must be the music
Thats opening my eyes
It must be the music
It sounds so confusing
It must be the music
Making me realise
Sometimes I listen to what people try to say
And then when I tune in I think, no thats not the way
Sometimes I listen to what people have to say
And then when I tune in I seem so far away
It must be the music
It sounds so confusing
It must be the music
Thats opening my eyes
[...] Read more
song performed by Oasis
Added by Lucian Velea
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