The Patriot
AN OLD STORY
I
It was roses, roses, all the way,
With myrtle mixed in my path like mad:
The house-roofs seemed to heave and sway,
The church-spires flamed, such flags they had,
A year ago on this very day.
II
The air broke into a mist with bells,
The old walls rocked with the crowd and cries.
Had I said, "Good folk, mere noise repels--
But give me your sun from yonder skies!"
They had answered, "And afterward, what else?"
III
Alack, it was I who leaped at the sun
To give it my loving friends to keep!
Nought man could do, have I left undone:
And you see my harvest, what I reap
This very day, now a year is run.
IV
There's nobody on the house-tops now--
Just a palsied few at the windows set;
For the best of the sight is, all allow,
At the Shambles' Gate--or, better yet,
By the very scaffold's foot, I trow.
V
I go in the rain, and, more than needs,
A rope cuts both my wrists behind;
And I think, by the feel, my forehead bleeds,
For they fling, whoever has a mind,
Stones at me for my year's misdeeds.
VI
Thus I entered, and thus I go!
In triumphs, people have dropped down dead.
"Paid by the world, what dost thou owe
Me?"--God might question; now instead,
'Tis God shall repay: I am safer so.
poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Patriot, The
AN OLD STORY.
I.
It was roses, roses, all the way,
With myrtle mixed in my path like mad:
The house-roofs seemed to heave and sway,
The church-spires flamed, such flags they had,
A year ago on this very day.
II.
The air broke into a mist with bells,
The old walls rocked with the crowd and cries.
Had I said, ``Good folk, mere noise repels---
But give me your sun from yonder skies!''
They had answered, ``And afterward, what else?''
III.
Alack, it was I who leaped at the sun
To give it my loving friends to keep!
Nought man could do, have I left undone:
And you see my harvest, what I reap
This very day, now a year is run.
IV.
There's nobody on the house-tops now---
Just a palsied few at the windows set;
For the best of the sight is, all allow,
At the Shambles' Gate---or, better yet,
By the very scaffold's foot, I trow.
V.
I go in the rain, and, more than needs,
A rope cuts both my wrists behind;
And I think, by the feel, my forehead bleeds,
For they fling, whoever has a mind,
Stones at me for my year's misdeeds.
VI.
Thus I entered, and thus I go!
In triumphs, people have dropped down dead.
``Paid by the world, what dost thou owe
``Me?''---God might question; now instead,
'Tis God shall repay: I am safer so.
poem by Robert Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Good Year For The Roses
I can hardly bear the sight of lipstick
On the cigarettes there in the ashtray
Lyin' cold the way you left 'em,
But at least your lips caressed them
While you packed
Or the lip-print on a half-filled cup of coffee
That you poured and didn't drink
But at least you thought you wanted it,
Tat's so much more than I can say for me
What a good year for the roses
Many blooms still linger there
The lawn could stand another mowin'
Funny I don't even care
As you turn to walk away
As the door behind you closes
The only thing I have to say
It's been a good year for the roses
After three full years of marriage,
It's the first time that you haven't made the bed
I guess the reason we're not talkin',
Tere's so little left to say we haven't said
While a million thoughts go racin' through my mind
I find I haven't said a word
From the bedroom the familiar sound
Of a baby's cryin' goes unheard
What a good year for the roses
Many blooms still linger there
The lawn could stand another mowin'
Funny I don't even care
As you turn to walk away
As the door behind you closes
The only thing I have to say
It's been a good year for the roses
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Year For The Roses
I can hardly bear the sight of lipstick on the cigarettes there in the ashtray
Lyin cold the way you left em, but at least your lips caressed them while
You packed
Or the lip-print on a half-filled cup of coffee that you poured and didnt drink
But at least you thought you wanted it, thats so much more than I can say
For me
What a good year for the roses
Many blooms still linger there
The lawn could stand another mowin
Funny I dont even care
As you turn to walk away
As the door behind you closes
The only thing I have to say
Its been a good year for the roses
After three full years of marriage, its the first time that you havent
Made the bed
I guess the reason were not talkin, theres so little left to say we
Havent said
While a million thoughts go racin through my mind, I find I havent said a word
>from the bedroom the familiar sound of a babys cryin goes unheard
What a good year for the roses
Many blooms still linger there
The lawn could stand another mowin
Funny I dont even care
As you turn to walk away
As the door behind you closes
The only thing I have to say
Its been a good year for the roses
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If Every Day Could Be Christmas
If every day could be Christmas
What a wonderful world it would be
We could carry this feeling within us
All through the year
If everyday could be Christmas
Christmas lights up the city
Roof tops covered in snow
Lover's sharing a slay ride cuddled close
And their eyes seem to glow
Window shopping on Main Street
Bundled up head to toe
The childeren ice-skating around the tree
I see smiles young and old
If every day could be Christmas
What a wonderful world it would be
We could carry this feeling within us
All through the year
If everyday could be Christmas
All through the year
If everyday could be Christmas
Church bells ring in the distance
Peace on earth fills the air
Side-walk Santa's handing out candy-canes
I feel love everywhere (everywhere)
If everyday could be Christmas
What a wonderful world it would be
We could carry this feeling within us
All through the year
If everyday could be Christmas
All through the year
If everyday could be Christmas
It's the time
we open up and give from the heart
Let love shine baby this time
If every day could be Christmas
What a wonderful world it would be
We could carry this feeling within us
All through the year
If everyday could be Christmas
All through the year
If everyday could be Christmas
If every day could be Christmas
What a wonderful world it would be
We could carry this feeling within us
All through the year
If everyday could be Christmas
If everyday could be Christmas
song performed by by 98 Degrees from This Christmas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Roses Just For You
Blue Roses Just For You,
to show my love,
desire, to hold you tight,
know this we our right.
Blue Roses Just For You,
my heart so full
over flowing now, and
remembering our vow.
Blue Roses Just For You,
with your tenderness,
here for a while, I'll stay,
while you make my heart sway.
Blue Roses Just For You,
to show my love,
give I these roses to you my dear,
hope to spend with you, many a year.
wrote 1-12-07
One Year In Heaven
One year in heaven,
One year you've been there,
So far away,
Someday I'll see you in the air,
One year in heaven,
I miss you so much,
Smile down upon me,
And show me your love.
One year in heaven,
It seems like so long,
Since the last time I saw you,
And then you were gone,
One year in heaven,
You left earth to soon,
But I know they need you,
More then I do,
One year in heaven,
I'm alone on the earth,
I miss your sweet kisses,
And all that you're worth,
One year in heaven,
Is God really there?
Why did he take you,
As I cried in despair.
One year in heaven,
I still see your face,
The day that you took,
The last breath you would take,
One year in heaven,
Why did you die,
I know God needed you,
But still I cry.
One year in heaven,
Soon I'll be there,
So wait by the gate,
Please, this do swear,
One year in heaven,
To me it is long,
But you have no pain,
From this earth you have gone.
One year in heaven,
It's so hard to move on,
I'll send you a prayer,
And sing you a song,
One year in heaven,
Life's not the same,
Since you left this world,
I'm living in a daze.
One year in heaven,
You watch from above,
Sit there and smile,
And send me your love,
One year in heaven,
You may think it's just a day,
But this world is so different,
Since God took you away
poem by Michele Weston
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A Faithful Witness
To the firstborn of Yahseph,
Of all that is created;
To the secondborn of Yahseph,
Do set set your mind on Mount Zion;
For His name is His glory and,
Of the economic well-being.
Of the year of the rat,
Of the year of the dog,
Of the year of the cow,
Of the year of the bull,
Of the year of the sheep,
Of the year of the dragon,
Of the year of the snake,
Of the year of the pig,
Of the year of the goat,
Of the year of the lizard,
Of the year of the crocodile,
Of the year of the elephant,
Of the year of the scorpion,
Of the year of the turtle,
Of the year of the fish,
Of the year of the earth,
Of the year of the wind,
Of the year of the fire,
Of the year of the water,
And of the year of the bush!
Like the firstborns of slaves.
The hips of romance,
The faithful witness will not lie;
The same day,
The same night,
Of the love shared at where no oxen are;
And the crib was very clean.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?
When the bells all ring,
And the horns all blow,
And the couples we know
Are fondly kissing.
Will I be with you,
Or will I be among the missing?
Maybe it's much too early in the game,
Ah, but I thought I'd ask you just the same,
What are you doing New Year's, New Year's Eve?
Wonder who's arms will hold you good and tight,
When it's exactly 12 o'clock that night,
New Year's, New Year's Eve.
Maybe I'm crazy to suppose,
I'd ever be the one you chose,
Out of a thousand invitations you'll receive.
Ah, but in case I stand one little chance,
Here comes the jackpot question in advance,
What are you doing New Year's, New Year's Eve?
(Instrumental break)
Out of a thousand invitations you'll receive,
Ah, but in case I stand one little chance,
Here comes the jackpot question in advance,
What are you doing New Year's, New Year's Eve?
What are you doing, New Year's Eve?
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Friends, Thank You Very Much
my friends, at the end of the year
let me thank you
from the bottom of my heart
despite the tragedies and
difficulties, you have been with me
in the highs and lows of my life,
let me thank you then
for the kind support
for the advices
for the hugs and pats on my shoulder
without you i would have not been here
in this place where the beams are stronger
where the walls have been taken away
where our roofs look directly into the skies
to see the myriad stars
without you i am nothing
let me thank you then
everything in me shall be changed for the better
except you my friends
you will all be the same friends of mine
older, bolder and happier.
happy new year, a toast for good health, happiness,
for prosperity, for more blessings from God.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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All Souls' Day (Allerseelen)
Bring in the mignonettes' fragrant spires,
the last red asters on the table lay,
and let again us speak of love's desires,
like once in May.
Give me your hand in furtive, sweet advances -
if people see it, mind not what they say:
Give me just one of your delighting glances,
like once in May.
Today the graves are full of lights and flowers,
one day a year the dead shall hold their sway:
Spend on my heart again those lovely hours,
like once in May.
poem by Hermann von Gilm, translated by Walter Aue
Submitted by anonym
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A Piece Of Myself... And For Myself
people in my place worry about me
why i do not worry about next year
the next planting season after this year's bumpy harvest where every room in the house is filled with corn.
people in my place ask me where shall i live after next year
and you should soon inherit the house that i built for 50 years.
they all worry about me with all those particular items like what shall happen
to the glasses in my cabinet
or the white car in my blue garage
or my gold watch and my silver spoons and my china plates
they worry about my gold fish in my aquarium
who shall feed them when i am no longer home
people worry a lot about me
and i begin sometimes when i get tired listening to all the questions
asking: why me? why do you worry all about me?
i am not even dead yet and have no plans retiring from life's works
like the arts and this
pottery and this poetry
people worry about me
and never about us.
i am tired and all i need is sleep.
and i do not worry at all.
because i know that if i am dead
then i am dead
and i do not ask for more
not even on extended dreams
not even on anything
perhaps they worry about me because they all worry about themselves
perhaps i am their mirror
or perhaps they think that with my behavior
i should not have lived
in the first place.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Funky New Year
Went to a party just last night
Wanted to bring the year in right
Woke up this morning I don't know how
Last night I was a happy man, but the way I feel right now
It's gonna be a FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Ooo, Ahh, got to be a FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Can't remember when I ever felt worse
Nothing matters and everything hurts
They were passin' round the bottle, made me feel brand new
Trouble with the new man he wants a hit too, hit me
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
oooooo, it's a FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Lord, mmm, FUNKY NEW YEAR
Nurse I'm worse FUNKY NEW YEAR
I got to perk up a little FUNKY NEW YEAR
My hair hurts FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
A party baby
Never again FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Who's shoes are these FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Party hardy baby FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
What year is this anyway?
song performed by by Eagles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Souls
I
A THIN moon faints in the sky o'erhead,
And dumb in the churchyard lie the dead.
Walk we not, Sweet, by garden ways,
Where the late rose hangs and the phlox delays,
But forth of the gate and down the road,
Past the church and the yews, to their dim abode.
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
II
Fear not that sound like wind in the trees:
It is only their call that comes on the breeze;
Fear not the shudder that seems to pass:
It is only the tread of their feet on the grass;
Fear not the drip of the bough as you stoop:
It is only the touch of their hands that grope -
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can yearn and the dead can smite.
III
And where should a man bring his sweet to woo
But here, where such hundreds were lovers too?
Where lie the dead lips that thirst to kiss,
The empty hands that their fellows miss,
Where the maid and her lover, from sere to green,
Sleep bed by bed, with the worm between?
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
IV
And now that they rise and walk in the cold,
Let us warm their blood and give youth to the old.
Let them see us and hear us, and say: 'Ah, thus
In the prime of the year it went with us!'
Till their lips drawn close, and so long unkist,
Forget they are mist that mingles with mist!
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can burn and the dead can smite.
V
Till they say, as they hear us - poor dead, poor dead! -
'Just an hour of this, and our age-long bed -
Just a thrill of the old remembered pains
To kindle a flame in our frozen veins,
Just a touch, and a sight, and a floating apart,
As the chill of dawn strikes each phantom heart -
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear, and the dead have sight.'
VI
And where should the living feel alive
But here in this wan white humming hive,
As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold,
And one by one they creep back to the fold?
And where should a man hold his mate and say:
'One more, one more, ere we go their way'?
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the living can learn by the churchyard light.
VII
And how should we break faith who have seen
Those dead lips plight with the mist between,
And how forget, who have seen how soon
They lie thus chambered and cold to the moon?
How scorn, how hate, how strive, we too,
Who must do so soon as those others do?
For it's All Souls' night, and break of the day,
And behold, with the light the dead are away. . . .
poem by Edith Wharton
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Happy New Year 2012
New Year comes,
Old Year gone,
Happy and Merry Year,
Merry and Cheerful Year.
Happy New You,
Happy and Happy New Year.
All poets, and
All friends;
God bless You All.
Give Your Best in,
Creating Best poems,
In years to come.
Happy New Year 2012,
Happy Dragon Year.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Now That The Year Is Growing Kind Of Old (Envelope Couplet Sestets)
Now that the year is growing kind of old
when the true story of Jesus we are told,
we are living up to a day of giving
while daily we hear joyful birds singing
as when they did that child once behold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
our Christian faith we do at times uphold
while to others we bring some happiness
like messengers of God we try to bless,
sing happy songs on each friendly threshold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
while some live sheltered in a stronghold
in a world of chaos there is tranquillity,
when in God we find some serenity,
in our own lives we act cheerful and bold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
in our lives God’s blessings are manifold,
while merrily bells do jingle and chime,
we tell of loving that goes past all time,
we celebrate Christmas in each household,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A New Year, Another Chance
One more year to change…
One less year to do it in
Start now…don’t give in
One more chance
To do it in!
You can be better…
If you try
You can feel better
That’s no lie
You can do better this year
Through thick and thin
Look up! Start now!
Don’t give in!
A new year…(you only get so many)
A new start… (only you can do it)
One more chance… (this time stick to it)
To do it in!
New year ‘s eve is near
Are you gonna stay the same
If so…shame, shame, shame! !
No war! No more fear!
You can do it! Let’s do it…
different this year! !
Stop smoking…lose weight
Be happy…Work out! …No drugs! …
Love yaw! ! lot’s of hugs
poem by David Whalen
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Of The Three Seekers
There met three knights on the woodland way,
And the first was clad in silk array:
The second was dight in iron and steel,
But the third was rags from head to heel.
“Lo, now is the year and the day come round
When we must tell what we have found.”
The first said: “I have found a king
Who grudgeth no gift of anything.”
The second said: “I have found a knight
Who hath never turned his back in fight.”
But the third said: “I have found a love
That Time and the World shall never move.”
Whither away to win good cheer?
“With me,” said the first, “for my king is near.”
So to the King they went their ways;
But there was a change of times and days.
“What men are ye,” the great King said,
“That ye should eat my children’s bread?
My waste has fed full many a store,
And mocking and grudge have I gained therefore.
Whatever waneth as days wax old,
Full worthy to win are goods and gold.”
Whither away to win good cheer?
“With me,” said the second, “my knight is near.”
So to the knight they went their ways,
But there was a change of times and days.
He dwelt in castle sure and strong,
For fear lest aught should do him wrong.
Guards by gate and hall there were,
And folk went in and out in fear.
When he heard the mouse run in the wall,
“Hist!” he said, “what next shall befal?
Draw not near, speak under your breath,
For all new-corners tell of death.
Bring me no song nor minstrelsy,
Round death it babbleth still,” said he.
“And what is fame and the praise of men,
When lost life cometh not again?”
Whither away to seek good cheer?
“Ah me!” said the third, “that my love were anear!
Were the world as little as it is wide,
In a happy house should ye abide.
Were the world as kind as it is hard,
Ye should behold a fair reward.”
So far by high and low have they gone,
They have come to a waste was rock and stone.
But lo, from the waste, a company
Full well bedight came riding by;
And in the midst, a queen, so fair,
That God wrought well in making her.
The first and second knights abode
To gaze upon her as she rode,
Forth passed the third with head down bent,
And stumbling ever as he went.
His shoulder brushed her saddle-bow;
He trembled with his head hung low.
His hand brushed o’er her golden gown,
As on the waste he fell adown.
So swift to earth her feet she set,
It seemed that there her arms he met.
His lips that looked the stone to meet
Were on her trembling lips and sweet.
Softly she kissed him cheek and chin,
His mouth her many tears drank in.
“Where would’st thou wander, love,” she said,
“Now I have drawn thee from the dead?”
“I go my ways,” he said, “and thine
Have nought to do with grief and pine.”
“All ways are one way now,” she said,
“Since I have drawn thee from the dead.”
Said he, “But I must seek again
Where first I met thee in thy pain:
I am not clad so fair,” said he,
“But yet the old hurts thou may’st see.
And thou, but for thy gown of gold,
A piteous tale of thee were told.”
“There is no pain on earth,” she said,
“Since I have drawn thee from the dead.”
“And parting waiteth for us there,”
Said he, “As it was yester-year.”
“Yet first a space of love,” she said,
“Since I have drawn thee from the dead.”
He laughed; said he, “Hast thou a home
Where I and these my friends may come?”
Laughing, “The world’s my home,” she said,
“Now I have drawn thee from the dead.
Yet somewhere is a space thereof
Where I may dwell beside my love.
There clear the river grows for him
Till o’er its stones his keel shall swim.
There faint the thrushes in their song,
And deem he tarrieth overlong.
There summer-tide is waiting now
Until he bids the roses blow.
Come, tell my flowery fields,” she said,
“How I have drawn thee from the dead.”
Whither away to win good cheer?
“With me,” he said, “for my love is here.
The wealth of my house it waneth not;
No gift it giveth is forgot.
No fear my house may enter in,
For nought is there that death may win.
Now life is little, and death is nought,
Since all is found that erst I sought.”
poem by William Morris
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Happy New Year 5766
Happy New Year tsunami
Happy New Year hurricanes
Happy New Year earthquakes
Happy New Year floods
Happy New Year fires
Happy New Year whining tree-saws
Happy New Year broken oven
Happy New Year broken refridgerator
Happy New Year broken promises
Happy New Year working computer
Happy New Year screeching ears
Happy New Year wet windows parched garden
Happy New Year dripping tap
drip
drip
drip
Drip.
poem by Linda Hepner
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Last Year
I may be in my Junior year.
But next year is my last year.
As I look back on the time I’ve been here,
And it feels like my first day as a freshman.
No matter what year I’m in school, I will always be meeting new people.
Most of the people I meet is the people who had moved away,
Now coming back.
Half the friends you come in with,
Will end up being half the friends you won’t be friends with.
So far what I am trying to say is that you need cherish the moments you have.
In a blink of an eye it will all be over.
You say your years won’t be like that
And when you graduate you say where does it go.
My Last Year’s about to begin! !
poem by Natasha Knowles
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The Death of the Old Year
Full knee-deep lies the winter snow,
And the winter winds are wearily sighing:
Toll ye the church bell sad and slow,
And tread softly and speak low,
For the old year lies a-dying.
Old year you must not die;
You came to us so readily,
You lived with us so steadily,
Old year you shall not die.
He lieth still: he doth not move:
He will not see the dawn of day.
He hath no other life above.
He gave me a friend and a true truelove
And the New-year will take 'em away.
Old year you must not go;
So long you have been with us,
Such joy as you have seen with us,
Old year, you shall not go.
He froth'd his bumpers to the brim;
A jollier year we shall not see.
But tho' his eyes are waxing dim,
And tho' his foes speak ill of him,
He was a friend to me.
Old year, you shall not die;
We did so laugh and cry with you,
I've half a mind to die with you,
Old year, if you must die.
He was full of joke and jest,
But all his merry quips are o'er.
To see him die across the waste
His son and heir doth ride post-haste,
But he'll be dead before.
Every one for his own.
The night is starry and cold, my friend,
And the New-year blithe and bold, my friend,
Comes up to take his own.
How hard he breathes! over the snow
I heard just now the crowing cock.
The shadows flicker to and fro:
The cricket chirps: the light burns low:
'Tis nearly twelve o'clock.
Shake hands, before you die.
Old year, we'll dearly rue for you:
What is it we can do for you?
Speak out before you die.
His face is growing sharp and thin.
Alack! our friend is gone,
Close up his eyes: tie up his chin:
Step from the corpse, and let him in
That standeth there alone,
And waiteth at the door.
There's a new foot on the floor, my friend,
And a new face at the door, my friend,
A new face at the door.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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