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Forgiveness!
Forgiveness is the sweet fruit a tree giveth,
Forgiveness is that energy, a fruit to its eater giveth,
Forgiveness is the milk a cow giveth,
Forgiveness is the light, that burning candle giveth,
Forgiveness is the life, the world giveth,
Forgiveness is rain that the clouds giveth,
Forgiveness is that natural, the one understood nature giveth,
Forgiveness is the perfume of selflessness in one spredeth,
Like sunlight in winter,
like moonlight in dark,
Like cool breeze in summer,
Like oasis in a desert,
Like spring of pure love, from a pure heart forever springeth!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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A Crowned Poet
IN thy coach of state
Pass, O King, along:
He no envy feels
To whom God giveth song.
Starving, still I smile,
Laugh at want and wrong:
He is fed and crowned
To whom God giveth song.
Better than all pomps
That to rank belong,—
One such dream as his
To whom God giveth song.
Let us greet, O King,
As we pass along:
He, too, is a king
To whom God giveth song.
poem by Anne Reeve Aldrich
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The Truce of God
After Suvla
Now to the stricken doe
And the wounded hind
There comes the Mercy of God
That is cool and kind.
To the hapless creature He made
He giveth rest.
All the woes of the world
Lie on His breast.
The tender Physician giveth
The drug of sleep,
Lest that His dove, His daughter,
Awake and weep.
Beyond all dreams of delight
Is the quiet peace,
He carries His lamb in His arms,
The blood on her fleece.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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There is as much difference between the counsel that a friend giveth, and that a man giveth himself, as there is between the counsel of a friend and of a flatterer. For there is no such flatterer as is a man's self.
quote by Francis Bacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Memory of John Fairfax
Because this man fulfilled his days,
Like one who walks with steadfast gaze
Averted from forbidden ways
With lures of fair, false flowerage deep,
Behold the Lord whose throne is dim
With fires of flaming seraphim—
The Christ that suffered sent for him:
“He giveth His beloved sleep.”
Think not that souls whose deeds august
Put sin to shame and make men just
Become at last the helpless dust
That wintering winds through waste-lands sweep!
The higher life within us cries,
Like some fine spirit from the skies,
“The Father’s blessing on us lies—
‘He giveth His beloved sleep.’”
Not human sleep—the fitful rest
With evil shapes of dreams distressed,—
But perfect quiet, unexpressed
By any worldly word we keep.
The dim Hereafter framed in creeds
May not be this; but He who reads
Our lives, sets flowers on wayside weeds—
“He giveth His beloved sleep.”
Be sure this hero who has passed
The human space—the outer vast—
Who worked in harness to the last,
Doth now a hallowed harvest reap.
Love sees his grave, nor turns away—
The eyes of faith are like the day,
And grief has not a word to say—
“He giveth His beloved sleep.”
That fair, rare spirit, Honour, throws
A light, which puts to shame the rose,
Across his grave, because she knows
The son whose ashes it doth keep;
And, like far music, this is heard—
“Behold the man who never stirred,
By word of his, an angry word!—
‘He giveth His beloved sleep.’”
He earned his place. Within his hands,
The power which counsels and commands,
And shapes the social life of lands,
Became a blessing pure and deep.
Through thirty years of turbulence
Our thoughts were sweetened with a sense
Of his benignant influence—
“He giveth His beloved sleep.”
No splendid talents, which excite
Like music, songs, or floods of light,
Were his; but, rather, all those bright,
Calm qualities of soul which reap
A mute, but certain, fine respect,
Not only from a source elect,
But from the hearts of every sect—
“He giveth His beloved sleep.”
He giveth His beloved rest!
The faithful soul that onward pressed,
Unswerving, from Life’s east to west,
By paths austere and passes steep,
Is past all toil; and, over Death,
With reverent hands and prayerful breath,
I plant this flower, alive with faith—
“He giveth His beloved sleep.”
poem by Henry Kendall
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The Street Giveth & The Street Taketh Away
Hey man, gotta take a stand, so you think that youve been had
Im here to bet ya, streets gonna get ya, well two out of three aint bad
Hey man, its gettin out of hand, cross your heart and hope to die
You got yours, and I got mine, Im gonna get whats comin to ya
Chorus:
cause the street giveth and the street taketh away
Where theres no blind justice, no way
Hey man, dont you understand, you can run but you cant hide
There aint no life after death, so save your breath (youre gonna)
Be a rock n roll suicide
Hey man, do you need a hand, but I aint no blessing in disguise
Feel the agony, and the ecstacy, its gonna burn right through ya
Chorus
Lifes too short, so help yourself, cause I dont walk on water
Chorus
cause the street giveth and the street taketh away (repeats out)
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grove giveth and Gates taketh away.
quote by Bob Metcalfe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God sendeth and giveth both mouth and meat.
quote by Thomas Tusser
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life.
It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows for so he giveth his beloved sleep.
Wherefore when a man giveth out his money upon condition that be may not demand it back until a certain time to come, he certainly may take a compensation for this inconvenience which he admits against himself.
quote by William Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If thou be industrious to procure wealth, be generous in the disposal of it. Man never is so happy as when he giveth happiness unto another.
quote by Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For his heart was in his work, and the heart giveth grace unto every art.
quote by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The big print giveth, and the fine print taketh away.
quote by Fulton J. Sheen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The big print giveth and the small print taketh away.
If Ottawa giveth, then Ottawa can taketh away.
quote by Stephen Harper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sermon Of St. Francis. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fourth)
Up soared the lark into the air,
A shaft of song, a wingéd prayer,
As if a soul released from pain
Were flying back to heaven again.
St. Francis heard: it was to him
An emblem of the Seraphim;
The upward motion of the fire,
The light, the heat, the heart's desire.
Around Assisi's convent gate
The birds, God's poor who cannot wait,
From moor and mere and darksome wood
Come flocking for their dole of food.
'O brother birds,' St. Francis said,
'Ye come to me and ask for bread,
But not with bread alone to-day
Shall ye be fed and sent away.
'Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds,
With manna of celestial words;
Not mine, though mine they seem to be,
Not mine, though they be spoken through me.
'Oh, doubly are ye bound to praise
The great Creator in your lays;
He giveth you your plumes of down,
Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown.
'He giveth you your wings to fly
And breathe a purer air on high,
And careth for you everywhere,
Who for yourselves so little care!'
With flutter of swift wings and songs
Together rose the feathered throngs,
And singing scattered far apart;
Deep peace was in St. Francis' heart.
He knew not if the brotherhood
His homily had understood;
He only knew that to one ear
The meaning of his words was clear.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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One's Lofty Perch
Never waste in haste,
An impatience to chastise...
How someone should live their life.
Unless you are prepared to explain,
Why that day comes...
When your head is lowered in shame!
One's lofty perch,
Is seldom cemented!
The Earth giveth and receiveth all.
And for many...
Dirt may be considered worthless,
But it ain't! No, it isn't.
The Earth collects everything.
Even if it is tainted!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Book Of Parables - Bulbul's Song
BULBUL'S song, through night hours cold,
Rose to Allah's throne on high;
To reward her melody,
Giveth he a cage of gold.
Such a cage are limbs of men,--
Though at first she feels confin'd,
Yet when all she brings to mind,
Straight the spirit sings again.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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