Lo! The poor Indian, whose untutored mind sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind.
quote by Alexander Pope
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Untutored
Untutored,
But your words are very sharp to the muse of the poor!
Untutored,
But the land ahead is already wet from the rain!
And like the works of our won hands to the public,
For the boys were late today.
Examined and forsaken,
And like your ways and my ways;
But the school girls were very late today.
Untutored,
But the songs of Yahweh were sung in a strange land!
Untutored,
And your steps were already noted by us;
For you were also seen among them,
But this day is like the day of lovers.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I Keep The Head High
An eye sees everything
But the other does not…
An ear hears everything
But the other does not…
What an honest combination!
A mind sees your virtues
But the same mind sees your vices…
A heart longs for you dear,
But the same heart rejects your love near…
What a dishonest mindset it is you think!
But among the blind around,
Then among many a deaf
And the heartless beasts that surround
You have to know my dear,
I ever keep my head high.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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From an Essay on Man
Heav'n from all creatures hides the book of fate,
All but the page prescrib'd, their present state:
From brutes what men, from men what spirits know:
Or who could suffer being here below?
The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed today,
Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flow'ry food,
And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood.
Oh blindness to the future! kindly giv'n,
That each may fill the circle mark'd by Heav'n:
Who sees with equal eye, as God of all,
A hero perish, or a sparrow fall,
Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd,
And now a bubble burst, and now a world.
Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;
Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore.
What future bliss, he gives not thee to know,
But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.
Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
Man never is, but always to be blest:
The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
Lo! the poor Indian, whose untutor'd mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
His soul, proud science never taught to stray
Far as the solar walk, or milky way;
Yet simple nature to his hope has giv'n,
Behind the cloud topp'd hill, an humbler heav'n;
Some safer world in depth of woods embrac'd,
Some happier island in the wat'ry waste,
Where slaves once more their native land behold,
No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold.
To be, contents his natural desire,
He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire;
But thinks, admitted to that equal sky.
poem by Alexander Pope
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Nature, with equal mind, Sees all her sons at play, Sees man control the wind, The wind sweep man away.
quote by Matthew Arnold
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Greate Freedom
nation flag fly
child cry
hunger
mother chest
no milk
good morning india...?
bad morning for poor indian people...
and poor freedom...
every wear...
not full fill the poor
indian stomach.........
what a great...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Kaw-liga
Hank williams
Kaw-liga was a wooden indian standing by the door
He fell in love with an indian maid over in the antique store
Kaw-liga just stood there and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no
He always wore his sunday feathers and held a tomahawk
The maiden wore her beads and braids and hoped someday hed talk
Kaw-liga, too stubborn to ever show a sign
Because his heart was made of knotty pine
Poor old kaw-liga, he never got a kiss
Poor old kaw-liga, he dont know what he missed
Is it any wonder that his face is red?
Kaw-liga,that poor old wooden head
Kaw-liga was a lonely indian, never went nowhere
His heart was set on the indian maid with the coal black hair
Kaw-liga just stood there and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no
Poor old kaw-liga, he never got a kiss
Poor old kaw-liga, he dont know what he missed
Is it any wonder that his face is red?
Kaw-liga,that poor old wooden head
Then one day a wealthy customer bought the indian maid
And took her oh so far away, but old kaw-liga stayed
Kaw-liga just stands there as lonely as can be
And wishes he was still an old pine tree
Poor old kaw-liga, he never got a kiss
Poor old kaw-liga, he dont know what he missed
Is it any wonder that his face is red?
Kaw-liga,that poor old wooden head
Kaw-liga, kaw-liga kaw-liga....
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Think Back, O Indian!
O Indian, O Indian!
Why not you think awhile?
How came your freedom?
How came this soil?
How came your brothers?
Why do you toil?
What’s your heritage?
What’s your love?
What’s your advantage?
Just think it now.
O Indian, O Indian!
Why don’t you muse awhile?
What makes up India?
What are its states?
What are its rivers?
Who are your mates?
Whose blood in you flows?
Who are your neighbors?
Why fight with brothers?
Just think it now.
O Indian, O Indian!
Why not you brood awhile?
What are your dangers?
What integrates?
What are your misgivings?
How do you solve?
Where’s your heart now?
Where is your soul?
Where’s your peace of mind?
Just think it now.
poem by John Celes
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Bears No ill Will
The eye bears no ill will
And the ear no evil intentions
These the heart alone bears.
The eye sees what it sees
And the ear what it hears
And without prejudice
The mind analyzes
And the heart judges
Afterwards, the eye, the ear
They learn to discriminate
poem by Oyekake Satty Joshua
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Indian culture certainly gives the Indian mind, including the mind of the Indian scientist, the ability to think out of the box.
quote by Roland Joffe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Fine Day
Shes standing by the waterside, shes waiting for her man
On the evening wind, she hears the whistle blow
Its coming from the factory, she hears it every day
Her soft cheeks flush, hes on his way
Theyre going where the sun is shining
Theyre going for that silver lining
Theyre gonna work and make it pay
And she say mmm, well, one fine day
Spread those wings, fly away
Now I dont lie, no, cold wind and rain
Gonna sail away one fine day
Now hope, it springs eternally
At least thats what they say
Boy, it gets hard to feel that way
When he sees his little darling hide
The tear with a smile
He say come here baby, now dont you cry
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So You Want To Be A Indian (Riding In The Wind)
So you want to be a Indian
living off the land
riding in the wind
fighting to make a stand
defending to keep what is ours
that you believe is yours
So you want to be a Indian
trying to live again
riding in the wind
sticking up for your right to be
so we can be free
So you want to be a Indian
living in poverty
you want to be like me
riding in the wind
living without a home
feeling you stand here alone
Spiritwind-2010
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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Ten Little Indians
Ten little indian boys
The first little indian gave squaw pretty feather
(little indian boy)
The second little indian made her an indian dollar
(fighting over a squaw)
Well the third little indian gave her moccasin leather
(little indian boy)
The squaw didnt like em at all
The fourth little indian took her riding in his big canoe
(little indian boy)
The fifth little indian took her down the waterfall
(fighting over a squaw)
The sixth little indian taught the squaw how to woo-woo
(little indian boy)
But the squaw didnt like em at all
One little, two little, three little indians
(keep us humming were the ten little indians)
Four little, five little, six little indians
(keep us humming were the ten little indians)
Seven little, eight little, nine little indians
(keep us humming were the ten little indians)
Ten little indian boys
The seventh little indian took her over to his teepee
(little indian boy)
The eighth little indian tried to give her a love poem
(fighting over a squaw)
The ninth little indian said youre my kemosabe
(little indian boy)
The squaw didnt like em at all
The tenth little indian said it really didnt matter
(little indian boy)
He acted like himself and he didnt look at her
(fighting over a squaw)
The squaw didnt care if he never did a thing
(little indian boy)
Cause she loved the tenth indian boy
Loved the tenth indian boy
Loved the tenth indian boy
Loved the tenth indian boy
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Melusine
At my windows the night weeps -
The night is mute, the wind probably weeps,
The wind, like a lost child -
What is it that makes him weep so?
O poor Melusine!
Like fire her hair blows in the storm,
Like fire passing clouds, and laments -
There for you, you poor maiden,
My heart speaks a still night prayer!
O poor Melusine!
poem by Georg Trakl
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A true Of universal
Some budy
Told
I am india...N...
S ome budy told...
Some time i am indian...
On school
Prayer time time told
I am indian...
But...
I did not feel
Indian...
India is
my birth place
ok...
But...
I am not a indian...
Why...?
I am...
I did not write hindhi...
I am Live in tamil nadu state
My mother also speak in tamil...
Sourindings peopls all are
Speak tamil...
So...
I am not a indian...
It is very poor word for me...
I am tamilan...
It is ok...
For me...
But...
This think also
Not good...
I am a one of world city zen...
That always unversel true...
Thats i want...
Thats i love and like...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Indian Girl
I see the snowflakes falling
I hear the drumbeat calling
I am just only lonely Indian girl
Braver than all the brave now
I sit at every pow-wow
I fought a million men for Indian girl
Ten hides and twenty horses
that's what the tribal law says
Too much for me to pay for Indian girl
Oh sun shine on sun shine on
and take my darkness away
Oh sun shine on sun shine on
and bring this girl my way
Far from her lonely teepee
wind sends her sweetness to me
too much for me to bear my Indian girl
Gather your things together
and bring your wedding feather
We'll steal away forever Indian girl
chorus x2
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: The Wind
What shakes the trees so violently? ’Tis Wind;
What moves the clouds hither/ thither? ’Tis Wind;
What takes the tornado around? ’Tis Wind;
What brings the sandstorm on the earth? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the cool and gentle breeze? ’Tis Wind
What makes the boughs and leaves to dance? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the autumn leaves to fall? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the honey-bees to fly? ’Tis Wind.
What makes pollen reach in showers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the dust to climb towers? ’Tis Wind;
What spreads the perfume of flowers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the rain-clouds advance far? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the Wind to blow? ’Tis God;
What makes a Tempest stop? ’ Tis our Lord.
7-18-2001
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kaw-liga
Recorded by hank williams
Written by hank williams and fred rose
Key: e capo: 2nd play: d
Kaw- [dm] liga, was a wooden indian standing by the door
He fell in love with an indian maid over in the antique store
Kaw-liga - a, just stood there and never let it [a7] show
So she could never answer yes or [dm] no.
He always wore his sunday feathers and held a tomahawk
The maiden wore her beads and braids and hoped someday hed talk
Kaw-liga - a, too stubborn to ever show a sign
Because his heart was made of knotty pine.
Chorus
[d] poor ol kaw-liga, he never got a kiss
[g] poor ol kaw-liga, he dont know what he missed
[d] is it any wonder that his face is [a7] red
Kaw-liga, that poor ol wooden [d] head. ... [dm]
Kaw-liga, was a lonely indian never went nowhere
His heart was set on the indian maiden with the coal black hair
Kaw-liga - a, just stood there and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no.
Then one day a wealthy customer bought the indian maid
And took her, oh, so far away, but ol kaw-liga stayed
Kaw-liga - a, just stands there as lonely as can be
And wishes he was still an old pine tree.
Chorus
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Indian Summer
Barry gibb/larry gatlin
You were a lady - like lady I was a boy running wild
The way that you used everything that God gave you
I gave you my heart like a child, one moment you took me to heaven
Took me back to earth and then before I woke up to the fact I was small you took me back to heaven again
And I remember the indian summer how you held me, how you loved me (loved me loved me)
The world may give me a million reasons but reasons dont make it wrong
Every lesson I learned has a price in return I was lost in my youth and to tell you the truth
I was empty and you filled me with a glow of love a loving loves may die
Just to hear you that sees me through, oh what Id give to re-live all the indian summers with you
So many hearts have been broken (dum dum dum dum-by do wah)
You had no trouble with mine like a fool I was there for the taking (but then)
It was only a matter of time you can lie in the sun with the warm wind blowing
Just knowing youve already paid but you cant live alone in an indian summer at 110 in the shade
And I remember (and I remember) the indian summer
How you held me in the moonlight
We were riding along on a silver dream never dreaming it off our head
And if Id known Id lose you the moment I found you Id love you all over again
Cos Im still empty (Im still empty) come fill me ( come fill me)
With a fire of love your flame will follow flame cos its all I want to do
Oh what Id give to re-live all the indian summers with you
Oh what Id give to re-live all the indian summers with you
Oh what Id give to re-live all the indian summers with you
Oh what Id give to re-live all the indian summers with you-oooooooooooooooooo
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The unwritten is also there
a blank paper
limitless as space
to fill the knowledge
here and beyond
and words of God
here, the learned plot
the stars, moon and universe
day and night
to the untutored
the blank paper might
as well be carrying space
limitless, enthralling
yet not fathomable
reachable
the blank page
catches the
essence of the mind
the written is there
the unwritten also there
if you could read
between the lines
if you could sense
the universal mind
the waves at sea
afford only a little view
of the power of the wind
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Mad Hatter...Limp watches
Lost dreams, sad songs and pain
There’s always payback
And it’s usually not pretty
One person hears
a dissonant chord
another hears a melodic ditty
It’s about trust…
And total devotion
Of cold water’s metallic taste
Utterly futility…the rushing about
The more you chase time
The more time you waste
Killing time
Until time
Kills you
You’re lost or merely mislaid
With nothing left
To hold onto
Make the wind stop blowing
Enough is not too much, my sweet
You’ll always have my word
I yearn to fly
To clouds that cry
To fly away… like a bird
poem by David Whalen
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