The flames burned bright Inside their tents at night Their screams pierced the sky As civilisation continued to die
The flames burned bright Inside their tents at night Their screams pierced the sky As civilisation continued to die
I want to slip away quietly Like a submarine in the night Gone, but perhaps remembered For never backing down from what is right Departing in the darkness and gone by the morning light Like an elusive bat quietly vanishing, during its nocturnal flight
Come to me in the silence of the night; Come in the speaking silence of a dream; Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright As sunlight on a stream; Come back in tears, O memory, hope, love of finished years. O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet, Whose wakening should have …
November comes, And November goes With the last red berries And the first white snows, With night coming early And dawn coming late, And ice in the bucket And frost by the gate. The fires burn And the kettles sing, And earth sinks to rest Until next spring.
I WILL make you brooches and toys for your delight Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night. I will make a palace fit for you and me, Of green days in forests and blue days at sea. I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room, Where white flows the river …
What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. No time to stand beneath the boughs And stare as long as sheep or cows. No time to see, when woods we pass, Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass. No time to see, in broad daylight, …
“Hope, like the gleaming taper’s light, Adorns and cheers our way; And still, as darker grows the night, Emits a brighter ray.” Oliver Goldsmith
Sleep, sleep, beauty bright, Dreaming in the joys of night; Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep Little sorrows sit and weep. Sweet babe, in thy face Soft desires I can trace, Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles. As thy softest limbs I feel Smiles as of the morning steal O’er thy cheek, and …
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