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going down over hard rocks, I am the river that sings to people at midday. he published The River (), the collection of poems that made him famous.
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Across the wall of the world, A River sings a beautiful song, It says come rest here by my side. Each of you a bordered country, Delicate and strangely made proud, Yet thrusting perpetually under siege. Your armed struggles for profit Have left collars of waste upon My shore, currents of debris upon my breast. Clad in peace and I will sing the songs The Creator gave to me when I and the Tree and the rock were one. Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your Brow and when you yet knew you still Knew nothing. They all hear The speaking of the Tree.

They hear the first and last of every Tree Speak to humankind today. Come to me, here beside the River. You, who gave me my first name, you Pawnee, Apache, Seneca, you Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of Other seekers--desperate for gain, Starving for gold.

If Rocks Could Sing: The Ringing Rocks of Bucks Co. | Pennsylvania Center for the Book

You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare Praying for a dream. History, despite its wrenching pain, Cannot be unlived, but if faced With courage, need not be lived again. Mold it into the shape of your most Private need. Sculpt it into The image of your most public self. Lift up your hearts Each new hour holds new chances For new beginnings.

The horizon leans forward, Offering you space to place new steps of change. Here, on the pulse of this fine day You may have the courage To look up and out and upon me, the Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.

Here on the pulse of this new day You may have the grace to look up and out And into your sister's eyes, and into Your brother's face, your country And say simply Very simply With hope Good morning. On The Pulse Of Morning is lines long, free verse, with no set rhythm to its lines, no pattern of rhyme in its many stanzas. It is a slow building kind of song-story with a heart-beat made up of diverse elements - from a rock to a mythological king, from native Americans to dinosaurs. As pure poetry the language is not so musical or textured, the sense not so challenging, but where the poem does succeed is in its breadth and inclusiveness.

It is a poem for everyone, it gives hope to all. Certain sections suggest a Whitmanesque influence, others point to Ginsberg and the songs of Bob Dylan.


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Here is an authority giving the people guidance, pointing them in the right direction, towards the light and out of the shadowy dark. There's no hiding place down here There's no hiding place down here Well, I run to the rock just to hide my face And the rocks cried out, no hiding place There's no hiding place down here. With a strong iambic beat the first line introduces three fundamental things: a Rock, a River, a Tree.

Note the capitals which mean that the Rock for example represents the entire family of rocks.

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A mastadon is a primitive elephant and, if anything like today's elephants, lived in strong family groups peacefully grazing. Modern elephants are sensitive creatures and are said to never forget. It seems they mourn their dead. Perhaps the poet chose the mastadon for this reason? Dinosaurs have had their day and are now extinct but they did live amongst the rocks, rivers and trees, leaving their bones behind as proof. The long vowels slowing everything down. A sudden shift into the present - the speaker announces that the rock has a voice and that voice is crying out to modern day humans, not only in the USA but all over the world.

This personification of the rock leaves the reader in little doubt that this is now a shared world, one world in which the fate of the human and the rock are bound together. The Rock has a vital message - humans must face their destiny with a fresh openness, come out of the shadows and live up to their spiritual potential. Open hearts are what is needed.

After the Rock comes the River, whose song can be heard over the barriers, the wall of the world. There is a peace attainable for humans, if only they'd stop the war machine, if only they'd quit yearning after profits they might understand how this peace is achieved. Nature is forgiving, Nature is resilient. Water washes waste away and cleanses most things.

This in itself is a beautiful thought but will the human listen? Can human beings let go of their military mindset and simpy rest by the riverside? This is a powerful section which poses an existential question in metaphorical form. Addressing all humans as a country, You, the River suggests the human is ignorant, knows nothing, yet arrogantly persists in the pursuit of war and delusional dominance.

All of humankind feels a need for beauty and wisdom as experienced in the songs of the River and the cries of the Rock. From gay people to Muslims, from teachers to Jews, everyone is included, all are equal in this respect. That morning before leaving, a meadowlark was singing right outside my tent. Be a lark from this meadow," I heard it sing. We, too, can be larks from the meadow. We, too, can sing in the new day. You are welcome to use and share this song for non-commercial use.

17 of the Best Songs About Mountains

From this valley they say you are going. We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile, For they say you are taking the sunshine That has brightened our pathway a while. So come sit by my side if you love me. Do not hasten to bid me adieu. Just remember the Red River Valley, And the cowboy that has loved you so true. Members of the Western Writers of America chose it as one of the Top Western songs of all time, ranked Edith Fowke offers anecdotal evidence that the song was known in at least five Canadian provinces before The earliest known written manuscript of the lyrics, titled "The Red River Valley", [4] bears the notations "Nemaha " and "Harlan Kerrigan as the writer.

In , Carl T. Allen himself thought the song was from Pennsylvania, perhaps brought over from Europe. Come and sit by my side at the briefing, We will sit there and tickle the beads, Then we'll head for the Red River Valley, And today I'll be flying Teak lead, To the valley he said we are flying, With a Thud of the plane to the earth, Many jockeys have flown to the valley, And a number have never returned.


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