If God sends you meal, the devil takes the sack.
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When God sends flour the devil carries off the sack.
In the Great Metropolis
Each for himself is still the rule
We learn it when we go to school
The devil take the hindmost, O!
And when the schoolboys grow to men,
In life they learn it o’er again
The devil take the hindmost, O!
For in the church, and at the bar,
On ’Change, at court, where’er they are,
The devil takes the hindmost, O!
Husband for husband, wife for wife,
Are careful that in married life
The devil takes the hindmost, O!
From youth to age, whate’er the game,
The unvarying practice is the same
The devil take the hindmost, O!
And after death, we do not know,
But scarce can doubt, where’er we go,
The devil takes the hindmost, O!
Ti rol de rol, ti rol de ro,
The devil take the hindmost, O!
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Heaven sends us good meat, but the Devil sends cooks.
quote by David Garrick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God sends us the meat, but it is the Devil who sends us cooks.
God sends us meat, the devil sends us cooks.
Fortunes
Every morning a woman comes and hand picks her rubbish -
Gems discarded by the elite of the city.
She takes them to an interesting shop;
There she exchanges them for a meal ticket (money)
She chooses her meal as if fine combing a menu in elegant Paris,
In the finest eatery, along the finest strip.
Her meal is that of which they (the elite)
would never consider to chew.
Her enjoyment in consuming such a meal is one which
They can never realise.
poem by Anthony Dawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When a mouse has fallen into a meal sack, he thinks he is the miller himself.
The Vanishing Red
He is said to have been the last Red man
In Action. And the Miller is said to have laughed--
If you like to call such a sound a laugh.
But he gave no one else a laugher's license.
For he turned suddenly grave as if to say,
'Whose business,--if I take it on myself,
Whose business--but why talk round the barn?--
When it's just that I hold with getting a thing done with.'
You can't get back and see it as he saw it.
It's too long a story to go into now.
You'd have to have been there and lived it.
They you wouldn't have looked on it as just a matter
Of who began it between the two races.
Some guttural exclamation of surprise
The Red man gave in poking about the mill
Over the great big thumping shuffling millstone
Disgusted the Miller physically as coming
From one who had no right to be heard from.
'Come, John,' he said, 'you want to see the wheel-pint?'
He took him down below a cramping rafter,
And showed him, through a manhole in the floor,
The water in desperate straits like frantic fish,
Salmon and sturgeon, lashing with their tails.
The he shut down the trap door with a ring in it
That jangled even above the general noise,
And came upstairs alone--and gave that laugh,
And said something to a man with a meal-sack
That the man with the meal-sack didn't catch--then.
Oh, yes, he showed John the wheel-pit all right.
poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where the devil can't go himself, he sends an old woman.
De Way T'ings Come
De way t'ings come, hit seems to me,
Is des' one monst'ous mystery;
De way hit seem to strike a man,
Dey ain't no sense, dey ain't no plan;
Ef trouble sta'ts a pilin' down,
It ain't no use to rage er frown,
It ain't no use to strive er pray,
Hit's mortal boun' to come dat way.
Now, ef you 's hongry, an' yo' plate
Des' keep on sayin' to you, 'Wait,'
Don't mek no diffunce how you feel,
'T won't do no good to hunt a meal,
Fu' dat ah meal des' boun' to hide
Ontwell de devil's satisfied,
An' 'twell dey's some'p'n by to cyave
You 's got to ease yo'se'f an' sta've.
But ef dey 's co'n meal on de she'f
You need n't bothah 'roun' yo'se'f,
Somebody's boun' to amble in
An' 'vite you to dey co'n meal bin;
An' ef you 's stuffed up to be froat
Wid co'n er middlin', fowl er shoat,
Des' look out an' you 'll see fu' sho
A 'possum faint befo' yo' do'.
De way t'ings happen, huhuh, chile,
Dis worl' 's done puzzled me one w'ile;
I 's mighty skeered I 'll fall in doubt,
I des' won't try to reason out
De reason why folks strive an' plan
A dinnah fu' a full-fed man,
An' shet de do' an' cross de street
F'om one dat raaly needs to eat.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Worries
when man cuts a tree
God spreads a thousand seeds
when man destroys a pond
God sends a new river
when man destroys the sea
God sends the tsunami
when man kills the bees
God sends more stings
when man kills the birds
God sends back the wind
so why worry?
for every lost creature
God is Here and He
Creates another
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Era of Wizardry
Devil is always before angel
To come into us
Because it takes shortcuts of night
And also, because it stops at nothing
To seduce us into tasting forbidden fruits
Into being satisfied with needs to see various profits
(Angel presents himself to us always after the things happene
He, as being on thin ice, leads us to the right way forever
But now, the world has already been confused by devil
People have believed in angel not as much as before
No other than holding a tear, angel is waiting for a chance
Devil is always quicker than angel
To be our teacher, to be our prophet
poem by Jiang Haizhou
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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