It is the nurse that the child first hears, and her words that he will first attempt to imitate.
quote by Quintilian
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Be what you are
Cats don’t imitate tigers;
Ducks don’t imitate swans;
Cocks don’t imitate peacocks.
Must you imitate to live up?
28.08.2000, Madras
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
At a Mother's Feet
At a mother’s feet is where a child sits.
At a mother’s feet is where a child listens.
At a mother’s feet is where a child hears.
At a mother’s feet is where a child learns.
He ain’t going be no damn good he is just like his daddy.
A child sitting at his mother feet listens and hears those words.
And that child learns that he is unloved at his mother’s feet.
The nurse was like a mother to him
He could not speak,
He could not move
Kept lying
On the hospital bed
With eager eyes
Kept looking at the door
He was waiting
For the nurse to arrive
His face lit up
When he saw the nurse
Greeted her with a big smile
How are you?
And good morning she said
To show his happiness
He giggled a bit
And looked into her eyes
His eyes got wet
As if he got
everything he wanted
The nurse was like
a mother to him
He was like a child to her
Did everything
what a child needed
Love and care she provided
Never did he felt
The absence of his mother
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Fiftieth Birthday Of Agassiz. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
It was fifty years ago
In the pleasant month of May,
In the beautiful Pays de Vaud,
A child in its cradle lay.
And Nature, the old nurse, took
The child upon her knee,
Saying: 'Here is a story-book
Thy Father has written for thee.'
'Come, wander with me,' she said,
'Into regions yet untrod;
And read what is still unread
In the manuscripts of God.'
And he wandered away and away
With Nature, the dear old nurse,
Who sang to him night and day
The rhymes of the universe.
And whenever the way seemed long,
Or his heart began to fail,
She would sing a more wonderful song,
Or tell a more marvellous tale.
So she keeps him still a child,
And will not let him go,
Though at times his heart beats wild
For the beautiful Pays de Vaud;
Though at times he hears in his dreams
The Ranz des Vaches of old,
And the rush of mountain streams
From glaciers clear and cold;
And the mother at home says, 'Hark!
For his voice I listen and yearn;
It is growing late and dark,
And my boy does not return!'
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It is destruction to the weak man to attempt to imitate the powerful.
Child's words
Child's words, in the woods
Through the leaves, to my towns
Hey, hey, where are you?
Child's happiness fill the air
Covering the nervous heart but it still on shine
Child's words, in the seas
Swiming the fishes, around the earth
Hey, hey, who are you?
Child's innocence into the winds
Blowing the seamen and ringing the bell
Child's words, in my heart
Keep it beating, running the blood
Hey, hey, what did you do?
Child's something keep me young
Child's something I never found
poem by Old Amsterdam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Child
A child,
Curious and innocent,
Slips from his Nurse, and rejoicing
Loses himself in the Fair.
Thro' the jostle and din
Wandering, he revels,
Dreaming, desiring, possessing;
Till, of a sudden
Tired and afraid, he beholds
The sordid assemblage
Just as it is; and he runs
With a sob to his Nurse
(Lighting at last on him),
And in her motherly bosom
Cries him to sleep.
Thus thro' the World,
Seeing and feeling and knowing,
Goes Man: till at last,
Tired of experience, he turns
To the friendly and comforting breast
Of the old nurse, Death.
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Night Nurse
Tell her try her best just to make it quick
Woman tend to the sick
Because there must be something she can do
This heart is broken in two
Tell her its a case of emergency
Theres a patient by the name of mickey
Night nurse
Only you alone can quench this here thirst
My night nurse oh god
Oh the pain is getting worse
I dont want to see no doc
I need attendance from my nurse around the clock
Because theres no prescription for me
Shes the one the only remedy
My night nurse
Only you alone can quench this here thirst
My night nurse
Oh the pain is getting worse
Im hurt my love
I dont want to see no doc
I need attendance from my nurse around the clock
Because there s no prescription for me
Shes the one the only remedy
Night nurse
Only you alone can quench this here thirst
My night nurse
Oh the pain is getting worse
Im hurt my love
And Im sure no no doctor got a cure
My night nurse
My night nurse
My night nurse
song performed by by Simply Red
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
What Is Said
How could I ever tell you how important what you say
can be
that the words of any man in a day
can affect a life, millions, or even me
our words have so much power
so do not cower
and do not shy away
do not hold back what you want to say
because your words affect a lifetime
speak your mind
all shall be fine
do not fear rejection for the reward is sublime
to save life or cause a turn
to help the world, or save one destined to burn
but forget not that words destroy and create
break down and perpetuate
the power of words and their force of love
the power of words and their capacity for sadistic destruction
forget not that you hold inside this death and life
the power to create argument and strife
or peace and tranquility
remember, remember dear child that each word can kill
each word can fill
with love and joy
or malice and contempt
so don't attempt
to downplay their importance
and play the fool
because its those words that are a part of you
its those words that yours my child
now use them wisely, say what must be said
for with all my years of experience i have learned that what's most important
sometimes...
is simply
What's said
poem by David Knox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Words
Sticks and stones may break your bones,
but words will never hurt you.
Stupid, lazy, burden, cripple and helpless.
These are just a few of the words I
heard a mother say to a child.
And now, she sits there wondering
why her 35 year old child is not as out
going as I, and why her child seems afraid to even
try.
Well, the reason is as simple as words.
Great, smart, good, able and excellent.
These are the words I heard when I was child.
Yeah, sticks and stone do hurt you,
but so can words.
Theos
You are worshiping Theos and you want my love,
But he who is with Yahweh hears Yahweh's words;
For she was sixteen years old and she became your lover!
but he who is of Satan also hears the words of Satan,
And we are all walking on the passage of this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
238
i teach my child by G. Abad
I.
I teach my child
To survive.
I begin with our words,
The simple words first
And last.
They are hardest to learn.
Words like home,
Or friend, or to forgive.
These words are relations.
They are difficult to bear;
Their fruits are unseen.
Or words that promise
Or dream.
Words like honor, or certainty,
Or cheer.
Rarest of sound,
Their roots run deep;
These are words that aspire,
They cast no shade.
These are not words
To speak.
These are the words
Of which we consist,
Indefinite,
Without other ground.
II.
My child
Is without syllables
To utter him,
Captive yet to his origin
In silence.
By every word
To rule his space,
He is released;
He is shaped by his speech.
Every act, too,
Is first without words.
There's no rehearsal
To adjust your deed
From direction of its words.
The words are given,
But there's no script.
Their play is hidden,
We are their stage.
These are the words
That offer to our care
Both sky and earth,
These same words
That may elude our acts.
If we speak them
But cannot meet their sound,
They strand us still
In our void,
Blank like the child
With the uphill silence
Of his words' climb.
And so,
I teach my child
To survive.
I begin with our words,
The simple words first
And last.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How It Was I Came To Be What I Am
[from early poems,1970's, youthful attempts at voice]
For 'Spider' Bottas
They would argue over tides
Who bade me come into the world.
One said, Six o'clock.
The other, No, twelve.
I was born at the thirteenth hour
All the while mother arguing,
This is not the time but a little spell,
While father argued it was death,
You are dying and your child, too,
Is dying. You have been poisoned.
It was full moon and high tide,
The hour of birth.
All arguments yielded to the tide's.
The moon lit up the stadium
Of their gripes while I was
Born amidst their sweeps at
Each other, the nurse neglecting
To wipe me free of blood and salt
Being drawn into their strife.
He was born at day, one said.
No, at night, and he is a she,
Said the other. The nurse,
Speaking truthfully, said,
Cleaning me at last, No,
You are both right. The child
Is he and she, a hermaphrodite
Born of two days labor, its head
Out of the womb the duration.
Ruination! father cried.
Fame, mother sighed.
Both right, the nurse agreed,
Of these fables are made.
Then father tossed me into the sea.
The nurse saved me who later
Became my lover, hiding my
Sexes with a four leaf clover.
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
i teach my child by G. Abad
I.
I teach my child
To survive.
I begin with our words,
The simple words first
And last.
They are hardest to learn.
Words like home,
Or friend, or to forgive.
These words are relations.
They are difficult to bear;
Their fruits are unseen.
Or words that promise
Or dream.
Words like honor, or certainty,
Or cheer.
Rarest of sound,
Their roots run deep;
These are words that aspire,
They cast no shade.
These are not words
To speak.
These are the words
Of which we consist,
Indefinite,
Without other ground.
II.
My child
Is without syllables
To utter him,
Captive yet to his origin
In silence.
By every word
To rule his space,
He is released;
He is shaped by his speech.
Every act, too,
Is first without words.
There's no rehearsal
To adjust your deed
From direction of its words.
The words are given,
But there's no script.
Their play is hidden,
We are their stage.
These are the words
That offer to our care
Both sky and earth,
These same words
That may elude our acts.
If we speak them
But cannot meet their sound,
They strand us still
In our void,
Blank like the child
With the uphill silence
Of his words' climb.
And so,
I teach my child
To survive.
I begin with our words,
The simple words first
And last.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Alison Cunningham, From Her Boy
For the long nights you lay awake
And watched for my unworthy sake:
For your most comfortable hand
That led me through the uneven land:
For all the story-books you read:
For all the pains you comforted:
For all you pitied, all you bore,
In sad and happy days of yore:-
My second Mother, my first Wife,
The angel of my infant life-
From the sick child, now well and old,
Take, nurse, the little book you hold!
And grant it, Heaven, that all who read
May find as dear a nurse at need,
And every child who lists my rhyme,
In the bright, fireside, nursery clime,
May hear it in as kind a voice
As made my childish days rejoice!
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Lament Of The Old Nurse
NURSE
Our mistress bids me with all speed to call
Aegisthus to the strangers, that he come
And hear more clearly, as a man from man,
This newly brought report. Before her slaves,
Under set eyes of melancholy cast,
She hid her inner chuckle at the events
That have been brought to pass--too well for her,
But for this house and hearth most miserably,--
As in the tale the strangers clearly told.
He, when he hears and learns the story's gist,
Will joy, I trow, in heart. Ah, wretched me!
How those old troubles, of all sorts made up,
Most hard to bear, in Atreus's palace-halls
Have made my heart full heavy in my breast!
But never have I known a woe like this.
For other ills I bore full patiently,
But as for dear Orestes, my sweet charge,
Whom from his mother I received and nursed . . .
And then the shrill cries rousing me o' nights,
And many and unprofitable toils
For me who bore them. For one needs must rear
The heedless infant like an animal,
(How can it else be?) as his humor serve
For while a child is yet in swaddling clothes,
It speaketh not, if either hunger comes,
Or passing thirst, or lower calls of need;
And children's stomach works its own content.
And I, though I foresaw this, call to mind,
How I was cheated, washing swaddling clothes,
And nurse and laundress did the selfsame work.
I then with these my double handicrafts,
Brought up Orestes for his father dear;
And now, woe's me! I learn that he is dead,
And go to fetch the man that mars this house;
And gladly will he hear these words of mine.
Burlesque
Of the modern versifications of
ancient legendary tales. - An impromptu.
The tender infant, meek and mild,
Fell down upon the stone:
The nurse took p the squealing child,
But still the child squeal'd on.
poem by Samuel Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Emulation
Say, Tyrant Custom, why must we obey
The impositions of thy haughty Sway;
From the first dawn of Life, unto the Grave,
Poor Womankind's in every State, a Slave.
The Nurse, the Mistress, Parent and the Swain,
For Love she must, there's none escape that Pain;
Then comes the last, the fatal Slavery,
The Husband with insulting Tyranny
Can have ill Manners justify'd by Law;
For Men all join to keep the Wife in awe.
Moses who first our Freedom did rebuke,
Was Marry'd when he writ the Pentateuch;
They're Wise to keep us Slaves, for well they know,
If we were loose, we soon should make them so.
We yield like vanquish'd Kings whom Fetters bind,
When chance of War is to Usurpers kind;
Submit in Form; but they'd our Thoughts control,
And lay restraints on the impassive Soul:
They fear we should excel their sluggish parts,
Should we attempt the Sciences and Arts;
Pretend they were design'd for them alone,
So keep us Fools to raise their own Renown;
Thus Priests of old their Grandeur to maintain,
Cry'd vulgar Eyes would sacred Laws Profane.
So kept the Mysteries behind a Screen,
There Homage and the Name were lost had they been seen:
But in this blessed Age, such Freedom's given,
That every Man explains the Will of Heaven;
And shall we Women now sit tamely by,
Make no excursions in Philosophy,
Or grace our Thoughts in tuneful Poetry?
We will our Rights in Learning's World maintain,
Wit's Empire, now, shall know a Female Reign,
Come all ye Fair, the great Attempt improve,
Divinely imitate the Realms above:
There's ten celestial Females govern Wit,
And but two Gods that dare pretend to it;
And shall these finite Males reverse their Rules,
No, we'll be Wits, and then Men must be Fools.
poem by Sarah Fyge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Imitation and Irritation
You women engineers working abroad,
imitate well the English manners stored.
You learn to say 'Excuse Me'
for the noise of coughing free;
but evince verve, the teasing words to hoard.
You scorn your in-law for clearing her throat
as infecting your child, whom she does dote.
The old people are often prone to cough,
For which, you scoff at them and make us laugh.
Forgetting their sacrifice, don't dare to irk.
You will face the same by a fateful quirk.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You're A Good Man Albert Brown
Well you're a good man albert brown
And you was wounded in the war
And though you shot some people down
You're still a good man albert brown
Well you're a good man albert brown
Though you are drunk upon the floor
And if you're buying the next round
Then you're a good man albert...
Brown was the colour of the mud across the somme
Red was the blood you spilled upon it
Pink were the fingers of the nurse who dressed your wound
White was the starch upon her bonnet
And you married that nurse
And her name was else
And then along came dad
...i'll have another pint of...
Brown is the colour of your old walking boots
Green is the cash you'd love to squander
Gold is the colour of your wife's faithful heart
So get yourself home, no more to wander
And you married that nurse
And her name's still else
And another child was had
You're a good man albert brown
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!