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Again Rejoicing Nature Sees
Again rejoicing nature sees
Her robe assume its vernal hues,
Her leafy looks wave in the breeze,
All freshly steep'd in morning dews.
And maun I still on Menie doat,
And bear the scorn that's in her ee?
For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk,
An' it winna let a body be!
In vain to me the cowslips blaw,
In vain to me the vi'lets spring;
In vain to me, in glen or shaw,
The mavis and the lintwhite sing.
And maun I still...
The merry ploughboy cheers his team,
Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks,
But life to me 's a weary dream,
A dream of ane that never wauks.
And maun I still...
The wanton coot the water skims,
Among the reeds the ducklings cry,
The stately swan majestic swims,
And every thing is blest but I.
And maun I still...
The shepherd steeks his faulding slap,
And owre the moorlands whistles shill,
Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step,
I meet him on the dewy hill.
And maun I still...
And when the lark, 'tween light and dark,
Blythe waukens by the daisy's side,
And mounts and sings on fluttering wings,
A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide.
And maun I still...
Come, Winter, with thine angry howl,
And raging bend the naked tree;
Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul,
When Nature all is sad like me!
And maun I still...
poem by Robert Burns
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He used to have a tent show, a little tent show, and I thought I was going to get a job working one year on the tent show, but he closed it down and I never got to go out there, but anyway, he had a sax and played drums.
quote by Earl Scruggs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After A Dance At Malaga
In Malaga
at the base camp
you danced at some disco
and drank Bacardi
and coke and it was
well into the early hours
of the morning
when you left
with Mamie
tiptoeing between
tent ropes and the unlit
areas between
and she said
I can't find
where my tent is
and you said
I'd let you share mine
but that young army guy
is in mine
and three in a bed
is a bit cramped
but where is mine?
she said
searching around
touching tent ropes
as she went by
you stood watching
trying to decide
where your tent was
what are we to do?
she asked
let's go back
to the club
until it gets lighter
or we remember
where our tents are
you said
but I'm tired
she said
I want to go to bed
and sleep
you searched around
by the hedge of the field
and then said
wait
I know where
mine is now
and you led her
to the tent
and unzipped it
and there inside
was the army guy
fast asleep
you can come in here
if you like
you said
but she just stood there
in the semi dark
cussing into the night
come on in
and be quiet
you said
I want my tent
she said
I want my own bloody tent
ok go find it then
you said
and began to climb inside
wait
she said
in a hushed voice
and came over
to your tent
and looked in
what about him?
she asked
he's asleep
you replied
what will he say
and finds me here?
you gazed
at the sleeping soldier boy
his mouth open
his eyes closed
a soft snore
filling the air
either come in
or go elsewhere
you whispered
I can't
she said
not with him there
and so she turned
and wandered off
into the semi dark
another chance walking off
into the night
some things you hope for
you murmured
never come right.
poem by Terry Collett
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It's better to have a thousand enemies outside of the tent than one inside the tent.
For I Am A Nomad
I have not lived in a house since i brought you up,
But rather been moving from tent to tent always from one place to another;
For i am a nomad and i brought you up,
So you are now matured enough to take up your own decisions today.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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We ought to be doing that with decent standard housing but if we have people who are absolutely on the streets in this case, I think it makes sense that tent cities are preferred to not having tent cities.
quote by Mike Lowry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wha Is That At My Bower-Door
'Wha is that at my bower-door?'
'O wha is it but Findlay!'
'Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here:'
'Indeed maun I,' quo' Findlay;
'What mak' ye, sae like a thief?'
'O come and see,' quo' Findlay;
'Before the morn ye'll work mischief:'
'Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay.
'Gif I rise and let you in'-
'Let me in,' quo' Findlay;
'Ye'll keep me waukin wi' your din;'
'Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay;
'In my bower if ye should stay'-
'Let me stay,' quo' Findlay;
'I fear ye'll bide till break o' day;'
'Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay.
'Here this night if ye remain'-
'I'll remain,' quo' Findlay;
'I dread ye'll learn the gate again;'
'Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay.
'What may pass within this bower'-
'Let it pass,' quo' Findlay;
'Ye maun conceal till your last hour:'
'Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay.
poem by Robert Burns
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Ballade Of The Royal Game Of Golf
There are laddies will drive ye a ba'
To the burn frae the farthermost tee,
But ye mauna think driving is a',
Ye may heel her, and send her ajee,
Ye may land in the sand or the sea;
And ye're dune, sir, ye're no worth a preen,
Tak' the word that an auld man'll gie,
Tak' aye tent to be up on the green!
The auld folk are crouse, and they craw
That their putting is pawky and slee;
In a bunker they're nae gude ava',
But to girn, and to gar the sand flee.
And a lassie can putt--ony she, -
Be she Maggy, or Bessie, or Jean,
But a cleek-shot's the billy for me,
Tak' aye tent to be up on the green!
I hae play'd in the frost and the thaw,
I hae play'd since the year thirty-three,
I hae play'd in the rain and the snaw,
And I trust I may play till I dee;
And I tell ye the truth and nae lee,
For I speak o' the thing I hae seen -
Tom Morris, I ken, will agree -
Tak' aye tent to be up on the green!
ENVOY.
Prince, faith you're improving a wee,
And, Lord, man, they tell me you're keen;
Tak' the best o' advice that can be,
Tak' aye tent to be up on the green!
poem by Andrew Lang
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The Himmaleh was known to stoop
481
The Himmaleh was known to stoop
Unto the Daisy low—
Transported with Compassion
That such a Doll should grow
Where Tent by Tent—Her Universe
Hung out its Flags of Snow—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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A Nomad
I have not lived in a house since i brought you up,
But rather i have been moving from tent to tent;
Because i am a nomad and i do move from place to place.
I brought you up this way and you have learnt a lot,
But you are matured enough to take up your own decisions.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Hope is a broker
While he was stitching the tent of the world,
Fate cut the tent’s ropes of his very life
As the broker of Hope sold him for nothing.
He wasn’t aware Hope was a broker.
16.12.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Hint o' Hairst
It's dowie in the hint o' hairst,
At the wa-gang o' the swallow,
When the wind grows cauld, and the burns grow bauld,
And the wuds are hingin' yellow ;
But oh, it's dowier far to see
The wa-gang o' her the hert gangs wi',
The deid-set o' a shinin' e'e -
That darkens the weary world on thee.
There was mickle love atween us twa -
Oh, twa could ne'er been fonder ;
And the thing on yird was never made,
That could ha'e gart us sunder.
But the way of Heaven's abune a' ken,
And we maun bear what it likes to sen' -
It's comfort, though, to weary men,
That the warst o' this warld's waes maun en'.
There's mony things that come and gae,
Just kent, and syne forgotten ;
And the flowers that busk a bonnie brae,
Gin anither year lie rotten.
But the last look o' that lovely e'e,
And the dying grip she ga'e to me,
They're settled like eternitie -
Oh, Mary ! that I were wi' thee.
poem by Hew Ainslie
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He that wad eat the kernel maun crack the nut.
We maun live by the living and no by the dead.