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Posts Tagged ‘love’

Look out upon the stars, my love,
And shame them with thine eyes,
On which, than on the lights above,
There hang more destinies.
Night’s beauty is the harmony
Of blending shades and light;
Then, lady, up, – look out, and be
A sister to the night!

Sleep not! thine image wakes for aye
Within my watching breast:
Sleep not! from her soft sleep should fly
Who robs all hearts of rest.
Nay, lady, from thy slumbers break,
And make this darkness gay
With looks, whose brightness well might make
Of darker nights a day.

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nZ1d434

A man and a woman are separated on a darkened stage, then get closer together and finally meet.  Positions ( )

(1)           (2)           (3)(3)             (2)             (1)

The light shines on the one singing and on neither during the chorus, except in the last position.  There, the light shines on the man and does not go off as the light then shines also on the woman, and on both during the chorus.

(1) M: I sit and sing a lonesome song,
My life is hard and cold.
I sometimes think I’ll never have
A special girl to hold.

(1) F: There’s nights when I can’t fall asleep,
One pillow on my bed,
The only shoulder for my grief
And bitter tears I shed.

Chorus:
M: But one day
F: Someday
M: Says my mind
F: Perhaps I’ll find
M: And then I’ll know,
F: I’ll surely know.
M: And holding hands
F: Through life we’ll go.
M: I’ll love her so.
F: I’ll love him so.

(2) M: I’d give a rib to have a mate;
I’d even give an arm.
This lonely life I’m leading now
Brings my heart far more harm.

(2) F: I know that I have love to give,
But none to give it to.
I ache to find a man for me
With whom to go life through.

Chorus:
M: But one day
F: Someday
M: Says my mind
F: Perhaps I’ll find
M: And then I’ll know,
F: I’ll surely know.
M: And holding hands
F: Through life we’ll go.
M: I’ll love her so.
F: I’ll love him so.

(3) M: I sometimes think she is so near,
That she can hear my cry,
And I could see her lovely face
If I would harder try.

(3) F: The curtain has been lifted;
My sorrow veil is gone.
The warmth and brightness flooding
Is a new loving dawn.

Chorus:
M: And one day
F: This day
M: Says my mind
F: I now have found
M: And I now know
F: I surely know.
M: And holding hands
F: Through life we’ll go.
M: I’ll love you so.
F: I’ll love you so.

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photo by Eve Blackwood at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nZ1d434/frame+with+hearts

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

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Whether on Ida’s shady brow,
Or in the chambers of the East,
The chambers of the sun, that now
From ancient melody have ceas’d;

Whether in Heaven ye wander fair,
Or the green corners of the earth,
Or the blue regions of the air
Where the melodious winds have birth;

Whether on coastal rocks ye rove
Beneath the bosom of the sea
Wand’ring in many a coral grove,
For Nine, forsaking Poetry!

How have you left the ancient love
That bards of old enjoy’d in you!
The languid strings do scarcely move!
The sound is forc’d, the notes are few!

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What is the heart of a girl?
Is it something that’s given to swing?
Oh! Be it whatever it may,
The heart of a girl is a wonderful thing.

What a precious gift man can obtain,
And it’s something that to him brings
Love, joy and perhaps fame –
‘Tis the heart of a girl, a wonderful thing.

If you be a gambler, or maybe a cheat,
When a girl comes along, ah then,
If she gives you her heart, you’ll fall at her feet,
For the heart of a girl is a wonderful thing.

A heart that’s wonderful and true,
A heart that’s ready to sing,
Except that heart there’s nothing for you,
For the heart of a girl is a wonderful thing.

If you want to be happy and gay,
Listen to me, my friend,
Get the heart of a girl of today,
For it is a wonderful thing.

It will wipe away all sadness,
It will wipe away all pain;
It will bring you joy and gladness,
For the heart of a girl is a wonderful thing!

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If you but knew
How all my days seemed filled with dreams of you,
How sometimes in the silent night
Your eyes thrill through me with their tender light,
How oft I hear your voice when others speak,
How you ‘mid other forms I seek –
Oh, love more real than though such dreams were true
If you but knew.

Could you but guess
How you alone make all my happiness,
How I am more than willing for your sake
To stand alone, give all and nothing take,
Nor chafe to think you bound while I am free,
Quite free, till death, to love  you silently,
Could you but guess.

Could you but learn
How when you doubt my truth I sadly yearn
To tell you all, to stand for one brief space
Unfettered, soul to soul, as face to face,
To crown you king, my king, till life shall end,
My love and likewise my truest friend,
Would you love me, dearest, as fondly in return,
Could you but learn?

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mtjfvnq

Ah! the bliss of a kiss from the sweet pretty miss
Who’s stolen my poor heart away.
But more! when there’s four, from the one I adore
Who brightens a drab, cloudy day.

Ah! the mile that her smile makes me float all the while
Is covered with roses and dew.
I stride, deep inside joy rises, a tide,
With wave after wave washing through.

Ohh! Away just one day and the sky turns to gray;
My heart beats, but barely and blue.
I’m sad, driven mad, but my thought makes me glad:
That her heart is yearning, loves too.


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photo by Gabriella Fabbri at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mtJFVnQ/love

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.

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Ye banks and braes, and streams around
The castle o’ Montgomery,
Green be your woods and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
There Summer first unfald her robes,
And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last fareweel,
O’ my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloomed the gay, green birk,
How rich the hawthorn’s blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade
I clasped her to my bosom!
The golden hours on angel wings
Flew o’er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi’ monie a vow and locked embrace
Our parting was fu’ tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder.
But O, fell Death’s untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!
Now green’s the sod, and cauld’s the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
I aft hae kissed sae fondly:
And closed for ay, the sparkling glance
That dwalt on me sae kindly;
And mouldering now in silent dust
That heart that lo’ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom’s core
Shall live my Highland Mary.

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O Mary, at thy window be,
It is the wish’d, the trysted hour!
Those smiles and glances let me see,
That make the miser’s treasure poor:
How blythely wad I bide the stoure,
A weary slave frae sun to sun,
Could I the rich reward secure,
The lovely Mary Morison.

Yestreen, when to the trembling string
The dance gaed thro’ the lighted ha’,
To thee my fancy took its wing,
I sat, but neither heard nor saw:
Tho’ this was fair, and that was braw,
And yon the toast of a’ the town,
I sigh’d, and said amang them a’,
“Ye are na Mary Morison.”

O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his,
Whase only faut is loving thee?
If love for love thou wilt na gie,
At least be pity to me shown!
A thought ungentle canna be
The thought o’ Mary Morison.

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Philosophers have measured mountains,
Fathomed the depths of seas, of states, and kings,
Walked with a staff to heav’n, and traced fountains;
But there are two vast, spacious things,
The which to measure it doth more behove:
Yet few there are that sound them; Sin and Love. 

Who would know Sin, let him repair
Unto Mount Olivet; there shall he see
A man so wrung with pains, that all his hair,
His skin, his garments bloody be.
Sin is that press and vice, which forceth pain
To hunt his cruel food through ev’ry vein. 

Who knows not Love, kept him assay
And taste that juice, which on the cross a pike
Did set again abroach; then let him say
If ever he did taste the like.
Love is that liquor sweet and most divine,
Which my God feels as blood; but I, as wine.

 

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The same old story told again –
The maiden droops her head,
The ripening glow of her crimson cheek
Is answering in her stead.
The pleading tone of a trembling voice
Is telling her the way
He loved her when his heart was young
In Youth’s sunshiny day:
The trembling tongue, the longing tone,
Imploringly ask why
They can not be as happy now
As in the days gone by.
And two more hearts, tumultuous
With overflowing joy,
Are dancing to the music
Which that dear, provoking boy
Is twanging on his bowstring,
As, fluttering his wings,
He sends his love-charged arrows
While merrily he sings:
“Ho! ho! my dainty maiden,
It surely can not be
You are thinking you are master
Of your heart, when it is me.”
And another gleaming arrow
Does the little god’s behest,
And the dainty little maiden
Falls upon her lover’s breast.
“The same old story told again,”
And listened o’er and o’er,
Will still be new, and pleasing, too,
Till “Time shall be no more.”

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