RANG - Tujhe na dekhoon to chain
- Length: 6:6
- Rating: 5.00 (1 ratings)
- Views: 274
- Author: MaxX4Everr
Tags: bharati Bollywood divya hindi indi indian maxx4everr music rang song
Rang movie song
Khit.Thueng by Rang Rockestra
- Length: 4:40
- Rating: ( ratings)
- Views: 127
- Author: thanou67
Tags: karaoke lao rang rockestra song thai
thai lao love song rock music.rang rockestra
Rang Ye Qing Qing Luo Xia - Jiujian
- Length: 3:21
- Rating: 5.00 (1 ratings)
- Views: 116' favoriteCount='1
- Author: echomusic0201
Tags: Art Echo Gig Guitar Luo Museum Music Qing Rang Singapore Songs Unplugged Xia Xinyao Ye 新谣 潘盈 让夜轻轻落下
Jiujian's performance at Singapore Art Museum. Featuring Echo Music guitar instructor Jacob Teo.Visit us at www.echomusic.com.sg
Frost at Midnight -Samuel Taylor Coleridge
- Length: 5:8
- Rating: 5.00 (2 ratings)
- Views: 585' favoriteCount='4
- Author: JustAudio2008
Tags: arts at Frost humanities la Midnight performing Poem RNaudioproductions SamuelTaylorColeridge science series social web
Frost at Midnight by Samuel Taylor Coleridgepublished 1798read by Nigel PlanerThe Frost performs its secret ministry,Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cryCame loud--and hark, again ! loud as before.The inmates of my cottage, all at rest,Have left me to that solitude, which suitsAbstruser musings : save that at my sideMy cradled infant slumbers peacefully.'Tis calm indeed ! so calm, that it disturbsAnd vexes meditation with its strangeAnd extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood,This populous village ! Sea, and hill, and wood,With all the numberless goings-on of life,Inaudible as dreams ! the thin blue flameLies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not ;Only that film, which fluttered on the grate,Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing.Methinks, its motion in this hush of natureGives it dim sympathies with me who live,Making it a companionable form,Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling SpiritBy its own moods interprets, every whereEcho or mirror seeking of itself,And makes a toy of Thought. But O ! how oft,How oft, at school, with most believing mind,Presageful, have I gazed upon the bars,To watch that fluttering stranger ! and as oftWith unclosed lids, already had I dreamtOf my sweet birth-place, and the old church-tower,Whose bells, the poor man's only music, rangFrom morn to evening, all the hot Fair-day,So sweetly, that they stirred and haunted meWith a wild pleasure, falling on mine earMost like articulate sounds of things to come !So gazed I, till the soothing things, I dreamt,Lulled me to sleep, and sleep prolonged my dreams !And so I brooded all the following morn,Awed by the stern preceptor's face, mine eyeFixed with mock study on my swimming book :Save if the door half opened, and I snatchedA hasty glance, and still my heart leaped up,For still I hoped to see the stranger's face,Townsman, or aunt, or sister more beloved,My play-mate when we both were clothed alike !Dear Babe, that sleepest cradled by my side,Whose gentle breathings, heard in this deep calm,Fill up the intersperséd vacanciesAnd momentary pauses of the thought !My babe so beautiful ! it thrills my heartWith tender gladness, thus to look at thee,And think that thou shalt learn far other lore,And in far other scenes ! For I was rearedIn the great city, pent 'mid cloisters dim,And saw nought lovely but the sky and stars.But thou, my babe ! shalt wander like a breezeBy lakes and sandy shores, beneath the cragsOf ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds,Which image in their bulk both lakes and shoresAnd mountain crags : so shalt thou see and hearThe lovely shapes and sounds intelligibleOf that eternal language, which thy GodUtters, who from eternity doth teachHimself in all, and all things in himself.Great universal Teacher ! he shall mouldThy spirit, and by giving make it ask.Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,Whether the summer clothe the general earthWith greenness, or the redbreast sit and singBetwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branchOf mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatchSmokes in the sun-thaw ; whether the eave-drops fallHeard only in the trances of the blast,Or if the secret ministry of frostShall hang them up in silent icicles,Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.Audio production by Robert Nichol AudioProductionsLondonall rights reserved
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