Allspirit

Tag: day

  • Box of Rain

    Song Lyrics on Allspirit

    Grateful Dead

    Words by Robert Hunter; music by Phil Lesh

    Look out of any window
    any morning, any evening, any day
    Maybe the sun is shining
    birds are winging or
    rain is falling from a heavy sky –
    What do you want me to do,
    to do for you to see you through?
    this is all a dream we dreamed
    one afternoon long ago
    Walk out of any doorway
    feel your way, feel your way
    like the day before
    Maybe you’ll find direction
    around some corner
    where it’s been waiting to meet you –
    What do you want me to do,
    to watch for you while you’re sleeping?
    Well please don’t be surprised
    when you find me dreaming too

    Look into any eyes
    you find by you, you can see
    clear through to another day
    I know it’s been seen before
    through other eyes on other days
    while going home —
    What do you want me to do,
    to do for you to see you through?
    It’s all a dream we dreamed
    one afternoon long ago

    Walk into splintered sunlight
    Inch your way through dead dreams
    to another land
    Maybe you’re tired and broken
    Your tongue is twisted
    with words half spoken
    and thoughts unclear
    What do you want me to do
    to do for you to see you through
    A box of rain will ease the pain
    and love will see you through

    Just a box of rain –
    wind and water –
    Believe it if you need it,
    if you don’t just pass it on
    Sun and shower –
    Wind and rain –
    in and out the window
    like a moth before a flame

    It’s just a box of rain
    I don’t know who put it there
    Believe it if you need it
    or leave it if you dare
    But it’s just a box of rain
    or a ribbon for your hair
    Such a long long time to be gone
    and a short time to be there

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  • Speak to me, my love!

    By Rabindranath Tagore

    Speak to me, my love! Tell me in words what you sang.
    The night is dark. The stars are lost in clouds.
    The wind is sighing through the leaves.
    I will let loose my hair.
    My blue cloak will cling round me like the night.
    I will clasp your head to my bosom;
    And there in the sweet loneliness murmur on your heart.
    I will shut my eyes and listen.
    I will not look in your face.
    When your words are ended, we will sit still and silent.
    Only the trees will whisper in the dark.
    [The night will pale.] The day will dawn.
    We shall look at each other’s eyes and go on our different paths.
    Speak to me, my love! Tell me in words what you sang.

    From The Gardener

    Read more poems from Rabindranath Tagore

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  • The Day is Done

    By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

    THE DAY is done, and the darkness
    Falls from the wings of Night,
    As a feather is wafted downward
    From an eagle in his flight.

    I see the lights of the village
    Gleam through the rain and the mist,
    And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me
    That my soul cannot resist:

    A feeling of sadness and longing,
    That is not akin to pain,
    And resembles sorrow only
    As the mist resembles the rain.

    Come, read to me some poem,
    Some simple and heartfelt lay,
    That shall soothe this restless feeling,
    And banish the thoughts of day.

    Not from the grand old masters,
    Not from the bards sublime,
    Whose distant footsteps echo
    Through the corridors of Time.

    For, like strains of martial music,
    Their mighty thoughts suggest
    Life’s endless toil and endeavor;
    And to-night I long for rest.

    Read from some humbler poet,
    Whose songs gushed from his heart,
    As showers from the clouds of summer,
    Or tears from the eyelids start;

    Who, through long days of labor,
    And nights devoid of ease,
    Still heard in his soul the music
    Of wonderful melodies.

    Such songs have power to quiet
    The restless pulse of care,
    And come like the benediction
    That follows after prayer.

    Then read from the treasured volume
    The poem of thy choice,
    And lend to the rhyme of the poet
    The beauty of thy voice.

    And the night shall be filled with music,
    And the cares, that infest the day,
    Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
    And as silently steal away.

    Read more poems from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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