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Robert of Lincoln
Merrily swinging on brier and weed,
Near to the nest of his little dame,
Over the mountain-side or mead,
Robert of Lincoln is telling his name.
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,
Snug and safe is this nest of ours,
Hidden among the summer flowers.
Chee, chee, chee.
Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed,
Wearing a bright, black wedding-coat;
White are his shoulders, and white his crest,
Hear him call in his merry note,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,
Look what a nice, new coat is mine;
Sure there was never a bird so fine.
Chee, chee, chee.
Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife,
Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings,
Passing at home a patient life,
Broods in the grass while her husband sings,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,
Brood, kind creature, you need not fear
Thieves and robbers while I am here.
Chee, chee, chee.
Modest and shy as a nun is she;
One weak chirp is her only note;
Braggart, and prince of braggarts is he,
Pouring boasts from his little throat,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,
Never was I afraid of man,
Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can.
Chee, chee, chee.
Six white eggs on a bed of hay,
Flecked with purple, a pretty sight:
There as the mother sits all day,
Robert is singing with all his might,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,
Nice good wife that never goes out,
Keeping house while I frolic about.
Chee, chee, chee.
Soon as the little ones chip the shell,
Six wide mouths are open for food;
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well,
Gathering seeds for the hungry brood:
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,
This new life is likely to be
Hard for a gay young fellow like me.
Chee, chee, chee.
Robert of Lincoln at length is made
Sober with work, and silent with care,
Off is his holiday garment laid,
Half forgotten that merry air,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,
Nobody knows but my mate and I,
Where our nest and our nestlings lie.
Chee, chee, chee.
Summer wanes; the children are grown;
Fun and frolic no more he knows;
Robert of Lincoln's a hum-drum drone;
Off he flies, and we sing as he goes,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,
When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again.
Chee, chee, chee.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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All good poetry is forged slowly and patiently, link by link, with sweat and blood and tears.
quote by Alfred Douglas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prisoner
Long I fought the driving lists,
Plume a-stream and armor clanging;
Link on link, between my wrists,
Now my heavy freedom's hanging.
poem by Dorothy Parker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's not difficult in South Africa for the ordinary person to see the link between capitalism and racist exploitation, and when one sees the link one immediately thinks in terms of a socialist alternative.
To link
Necessary to link
All weather connectivity
To link telling truth
Always is a must
Only by telling truth
Always the tongue get
True taste.
Camel may enter
In to the hole of
The needle
Unless one tell truth
It is not possible
To escape from this
Worldly bond.
Be srtaight
Be steady
Be firm
Be truthful
All weather connectivity
Is open with you
And link open.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Among peoples who are geographically grouped together like the peoples of Europe there must exist a sort of federal link. It is this link which I wish to endeavour to establish.
quote by Aristide Briand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am ever mindful of the legacy of my grandfather, the founder of this Kingdom, who had said to me that he perceived his life as a link in a continuous chain of those who served our nation and that he expected me to be a new and strong link in the same chain.
quote by King Hussein I
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Infidelity
I love you all
not the way you think
I still love my wife
my missing link
a link that binds time and pain
a friend to share tears
this will always remain
the deepest feelings that come from within
even though fooling around with you
is a mortal sin
poem by Matt Mondschein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chain Of Life
Every chain is made of links
just as our life befalls.
Each time we met someone
whether it is near or far
we add another link to our chain of life.
As our years, multiply
so will the links on our chain.
When we lose a link,
we find another to replace it
and our chain of life goes on.
19 May 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The truth is that we can learn to condition our minds, bodies, and emotions to link pain or pleasure to whatever we choose. By changing what we link pain and pleasure to, we will instantly change our behaviors.
quote by Tony Robbins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home Alone Distressed Without Working Computer
Home alone without a working computer
I am at a loss
Every few minutes I think to look something up
No Google No Wikipedia Nothing
I want to read my mail
No mail
No entertainments from YouTube either
Where is the joy of perpetually going
From one interesting link to another?
Above all I am lost without my documents
This is my system for work and I cannot write without it
Without my computer I wonder what to do with my time
I do not have patience for all the books on my table
I am used to achieving things
In smaller times and spaces
Without my computer
I cannot be myself
I am lost without it
My mind wanders helplessly toward fixing this one
Or immediately getting another –
Oh why can’t I make just one click
And have it all back?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Link Of Love
Sister is
Love...
Brother is
Love...
Father is
Love
Mother is love...
Wife is love...
Husband is
Love...
Love and love...
Theay are familey...
Love is making
A link of relation...
The world...
With love and love...
You want link
Do the love...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Clink For A Drink
Nick thinks and winks
Drinks his finks and makes a
Sync of what stinks
After seeing his shrink
Life is zinc
Not a pink mink
Had a hard dick
And a lip stick
The sky is rosy pink
And this is the data link
Rethink with a soft drink
What happens next
On that skating rink
A marking ink spic
The missing link
salmon pink prick
what a freak!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life As Sequencing
i was born on January of 1961
on the 29th day
i grew up in a little barrio
there were no books
but there were many trees there
then i was sent to a city school
studied hard and consistently
made to the top of the class
then i went to a university
studied the sciences, religion and the arts
lots of philosophy in there
and poetry
then i got employed
by some notable companies
where i earned money
where i got a name
where i learned the language of
diplomacy and survival
then one day, in noticed that in this
sequencing of my life
something has gone wrong
it is not the marriage
it is something else, it something that
you also know, the missing link
one that makes you wish
you were dead
one that makes you numb
the reason why you have sleepless nights
and lousy mornings
it is this link that gives you a feeling of loss
and grief
this emptiness that stays in your stomach
you are not hungry
you just feel it
it is the same feeling you have now
and you know very well why
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A compliment reflected
To praise the ‘generosity of soul’
in someone other – and that, to their face –
must be, to know that quality oneself;
and more, to be familiar in its use;
what splendour there of human character –
to link together these two noble words:
to recognise in others, one’s own soul;
and then, to see one’s generosity,
reflected in another’s qualities;
and then, to link the two as action seen,
joins mind, heart, soul, in generosity
in one that names and one that’s named, akin!
To show, and see, and praise, makes parity
in earth as is in heav’n: true charity.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Gladness....
when you sit
alone on a chair beside your window
facing a long road of this village
thoughts come
and form a chain
link upon link
and seemingly
it takes you to more roads and windows
and doors and
valleys
you hear the echoes of its sound
you see
the beauty of a chain of daisies
on a stretching acres of grass
despite the long journey
surprisingly
you feel the magnificence of wander
you name the world
you tell it
you are lost deeply lost
nevertheless
it is the excitement of all these
that makes you
face
the anonymity
of gladness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She's A Rebel
She's a rebel
She's a saint
She's salt of the earth
And she's dangerous
She's a rebel
Vigilante
Missing link on the brink
Of destruction
From Chicago to Toronto
She's the one that they
Call old whatsername
She's the symbol
of resistance
and she's holding on my
heart like a hand grenade
Is she dreaming
what I'm thinking
Is she the mother of all bombs
gonna detonate
Is she trouble
like I'm trouble
make it a double
twist of fate
or a melody that
She sings the revolution
the dawning of our lives
she brings this liberation
that I just can't define
nothing comes to mind
[x2]
She's a rebel
She's a saint
She's salt of the earth
And she's dangerous
She's a rebel
Vigilante
Missing link on the brink
Of destruction
She's a rebel
She's a saint
She's salt of the earth
And she's dangerous
She's a rebel
Vigilante
Missing link on the brink
Of destruction
She's a rebel, She's a rebel, She's a rebel, And she's dangerous
[x2]
song performed by by Green Day
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Concerned that others were not coming onto the summit and because I had no radio link to those below me, I began to wonder if there were difficulties down the mountain. I made the decision to descend.
quote by Anatoli Boukreev
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet XX
Beloved, my Beloved, when I think
That thou wast in the world a year ago,
What time I sat alone here in the snow
And saw no footprint, heard the silence sink
No moment at thy voice, but, link by link,
Went counting all my chains as if that so
They never could fall off at any blow
Struck by thy possible hand,--why, thus I drink
Of life's great cup of wonder ! Wonderful,
Never to feel thee thrill the day or night
With personal act or speech,--nor ever cull
Some prescience of thee with the blossoms white
Thou sawest growing ! Atheists are as dull,
Who cannot guess God's presence out of sight.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet XX: Belovèd, My Belovèd
Belovèd, my Belovèd, when I think
That thou wast in the world a year ago,
What time I sat alone here in the snow
And saw no footprint, heard the silence sink
No moment at thy voice, but, link by link
Went counting all my chains as if that so
They never could fall off at any blow
Struck by thy possible hand,--why, thus I drink
Of life's great cup of wonder! Wonderful,
Never to feel thee thrill the day or night
With personal act or speech,--nor ever cull
Some prescience of thee with the blossoms white
Thou sawest growing! Atheists are as dull
Who cannot guess God's presence out of sight.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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