A Hunting Song
Here's a health to every sportsman, be he stableman or lord,
If his heart be true, I care not what his pocket may afford;
And may he ever pleasantly each gallant sport pursue,
If he takes his liquor fairly, and his fences fairly, too.
He cares not for the bubbles of Fortune's fickle tide,
Who like Bendigo can battle, and like Olliver can ride.
He laughs at those who caution, at those who chide he'll frown,
As he clears a five-foot paling, or he knocks a peeler down.
The dull, cold world may blame us, boys! but what care we the while,
If coral lips will cheer us, and bright eyes on us smile?
For beauty's fond caresses can most tenderly repay
The weariness and trouble of many an anxious day.
Then fill your glass, and drain it, too, with all your heart and soul,
To the best of sports — The Fox-hunt, The Fair Ones, and The Bowl,
To a stout heart in adversity through every ill to steer,
And when Fortune smiles a score of friends like those around us here
poem by Adam Lindsay Gordon
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Related quotes
In The Character Of A Ruined Farmer
Tune - "Go from my window, Love, do."
The sun he is sunk in the west,
All creatures retired to rest,
While here I sit, all sore beset,
With sorrow, grief, and woe:
And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!
The prosperous man is asleep,
Nor hears how the whirlwinds sweep;
But Misery and I must watch
The surly tempest blow:
And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!
There lies the dear partner of my breast;
Her cares for a moment at rest:
Must I see thee, my youthful pride,
Thus brought so very low!
And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!
There lie my sweet babies in her arms;
No anxious fear their little hearts alarms;
But for their sake my heart does ache,
With many a bitter throe:
And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!
I once was by Fortune carest:
I once could relieve the distrest:
Now life's poor support, hardly earn'd
My fate will scarce bestow:
And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!
No comfort, no comfort I have!
How welcome to me were the grave!
But then my wife and children dear-
O, wither would they go!
And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!
O whither, O whither shall I turn!
All friendless, forsaken, forlorn!
For, in this world, Rest or Peace
I never more shall know!
And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!
poem by Robert Burns
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A Homeless Man
Those cold hands sheltered in his lap...
A simple life chosen to live, perhaps?
Could no bed be offered though?
Not even a chair?
In that desolate, gray street of the city
frozen like ice, but still calmly sitting
a cigarette is lit
and- smoking, fretting, spitting -
he makes his retreat from human affairs
And so, another lonely story
without any care
shoots a puffy white cloud
of smoke in the air
and I can't help but stare...
at all of his dreams
briefly lingering there
as he disappears
leaving the cold, winter road seem
so quiet
and bare.
And the sun in the sky is
In my eyes as it rises
I look at this guy
As he tries not to cry his
Heart out...
Sometimes we drive by
even though he needs help
The indifference within
is a sin in itself
Only focused on the ladders
we climb and we climb
And Heaven forbid
if you're not to work on time
Maybe he's hungry; he very well could be sad
Maybe bad luck's all the luck that he's had
Perhaps he was rich and traded stocks for big cash
'till the whole market crashed
- fortune gone in a flash
Maybe he thought,
'In America, land of Prosperity,
With so many Christian hearts filled with Sincerity
Surely someone will lead me back to the fun
I'll repay them their kindness - no harm will be done…'
'…But in the Home of the Brave and the greatest of lands
Not one single man will lend me a hand...
When an insult and pocket change is all that I find
In my sweet home America - I must've lost my mind! '
I see the sun in your eyes,
in the sky as it rises
Remember my friend,
life is full of surprises
And one day…
You may find yourself standing next to him
Beggin' for bucks; beggin' for change;
Down on your luck; down in the drain;
Lookin' aroun' with a frown on your face
Cuz you ran outta gas
and now your ass is sittin' out of the race
Could you ever let go of the stuff you don't need?
Or, is it deep in your bones and the blood that you bleed?
did you read the fine print in your contract on the day
you signed your soul and life away?
So,
if you ever see a lonely story
Without any care
cold wind in his hair
Mmaybe his thumb in the air...
Stare if you dare
but, consider it fair - -
Fairly likely that one day
It could be little
old you
standing there.
poem by Ray Quesada
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A Prayer For A Stout Heart
A PRAYER FOR A STOUT HEART
How can I stake all my love, -
At the mercy of this fickle heart?
A heart that is delicate and fragile,
A heart that ignores the reasoning mind? !
A heart that feels both love and hate,
Gets ensnared by beauty and trapped by fate? !
A heart that changes its color and beat,
A heart which appears to be incomplete?
Faced with all those temptations of this world –
both spurious and pure,
How can my foolish heart distinguish and
endure?
So I prayed to the Lord to give me a heart that
is stout,
Like Richard the Lion Heart, both steadfast and
without doubt!
To wage a Crusade against all that is impure,
And abide by true love to forever endure!
- Raj Nandy
- New Delhi
- 20 Jan 09
Let Us Give Thanks
If we have lived another year
And, counting friends by regiments
Who share our love and confidence,
Find no more broken ranks,
For this let us give thanks.
If, since the last Thanksgiving-time,
Have we been blessed with strength and health,
And added to our honest wealth,
Nor lost by broken banks,
For this would we give thanks.
If through adversity we trod,
Yet with serene and smiling face,
And trusted more to saving grace
Than charlatans and cranks,
For this let us give thanks.
If we have somehow worried through
The ups and downs along life's track,
And still undaunted can look back
And smile at Fortune's pranks,
For this would we give thanks.
If every page in our account
With God and man is fairly writ,
We care not who examines it,
With no suspicious blanks,
For this let us give thanks.
poem by Hattie Howard
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A Health To The Queen
While the thistle bears
Spears,
And the shamrock is green,
And the English rose
Blows,
A health to the Queen!
A health to the Queen, a health to the Queen!
Fill high, boys, drain dry, boys,
A health to the Queen!
The thistle bears spears round its blossom,
Round its blossom the shamrock is green,
The rose grows and glows round the rose in its bosom,
We stand sword in hand round the Queen!
Our glory is green round the Queen!
We close round the rose, round the Queen!
The Queen, boys, the Queen! a health to the Queen!
Fill high, boys, drain dry, boys,
A health to the Queen!
Last post I'd a note from that old aunt of mine,
'T was meant for a hook, but she called it a line;
She says, I don't know why we're going to fight,
She's sure I don't know-and I'm sure she's quite right;
She swears I haven't looked at one sole protocol;
Tantara! tantara! I haven't, 'pon my soul!
Soho, blow trumpeter,
Trumpeter, trumpeter!
Soho, blow trumpeter, onward's the cry!
Fall, tyrants, fall-the devil care why!
A health to the Queen; a health to the Queen!
Fill high, boys, drain dry, boys,
A health to the Queen!
My granny came down-'pour vous voir, mon barbare,'
She brought in her pocket a map-du Tartare-
Drawn up, so she vowed, 'par un homme ah! si bon!'
With a plan for campaigning old Hal, en haut ton.
With here you may trick him, and here you may prick him,
And here-if you do it en roi-you may lick him,
But there he is sacred, and yonder-Oh, la!
He's as dear a sweet soul as your late grandpapa!
Soho, blow trumpeter,
Trumpeter, trumpeter!
Blow the charge, trumpeter, blare, boy, blare!
Fall, tyrants, fall-the devil care where!
A health to the Queen, a health to the Queen!
Fill high, boys, drain dry, boys,
A health to the Queen!
My cousin, the Yankee, last night did his best
To prove 'the Czar-bless you's-no worse than the rest.'
We wheeled the decanters out on to the lawn,
And he argued-and spat-in a circle till dawn.
Quoth I, 'If the game's half as thick as you say,
The more need for hounds, lad! Hunt's up! Harkaway!'
Soho, blow trumpeter!
Trumpeter, trumpeter!
Tally-ho, trumpeter, over the ditch-
Over the ditch, boys, the broad ditch at Dover!
Hands slack, boys, heels back, boys,
Yohoicks! we're well over!
Soho, blow, trumpeter! blow us to cover!
Blow, boy, blow,
Berlin, or Moscow,
Schoenbrun, or Rome,
So Reynard's at home,
The devil care which!
Hark, Evans! hark, Campbell! hark, Cathcart!-Halloo!
Heydey, harkaway! good men and true!
Harkaway to the brook,
You won't land in clover!
Leap and look!
High and dry!
Tantivy, full cry!
Full cry up the hill!
Hurrah, and it's over!
A burst and a kill.
While the thistle bears
Spears,
And the shamrock is green,
And the English rose
Blows,
A health to the Queen!
A health to the Queen, a health to the Queen!
Fill high, boys, drain dry, boys,
A health to the Queen!
The Queen, boys, the Queen! the Queen, boys, the Queen!
Full cry, high and dry, boys,
A health to the Queen!
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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And The Melody of a True Friend Plays On...
No one knows about the sorrows, as is seen a serenity..
The silence, its stillnes, be disturbed so carelessly..
When you are down, double troubled, life seems unfair,
And in need of some concern, loving and tender care.
Deluged in a world so cold and fast losing sight.
And dims your vision, just recall memories so light.
That once upon a life, was ever so sparkly bright.
To cheer up even your distressed, bleakest nigh.t
Braving the pains, the chains that keeps tying you down
Rising above the stormy emotions with less frown
Life is only a game and as you must now stand,
In this confused sandy green, at times watery land.
Keep moving with dignity, chin up walk real tall.
Let it be hazy days of summer winter spring or fall...
Just hope that good fortune knocks at the door,
Between the sky and sea, peace, love ever more.
The friendly hand that reaches out so touchingly
From lands, oceans across with good grace generously
Unfolding a sweet fragrance, flowering your heart.
Is the silent smile of a true friend that could never part!
And the Musical Melody of True Friends
Older than the seas play on....till the journeys end!
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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Seeking
Bright eyes, sweet lips, with sudden fevers fill
My strong blood, running wildly, as it must;
But lips and eyes too soon beget distrust.
A soft touch sends a momentary thrill
Through sense unsubservient to the will;
But warm caresses leave a dim disgust;
Like Dead- Sea apples, kisses turn to dust.
I kiss; I feast; but I am hungry still.
O, where is She — that straight and upright soul —
True friend, true mate, true woman — where is She?
True heart — as true as needle to the pole —
True to the truth, not only true to me —
Worth all I have to give — the best — the whole.
When shall these eyes Her unknown beauty see?
poem by Ada Cambridge
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Beauty Rothraut (From Moricke)
What is the name of King Ringang's daughter?
Rohtraut, Beauty Rohtraut!
And what does she do the livelong day,
Since she dare not knit and spin alway?
O hunting and fishing is ever her play!
And, heigh! that her huntsman I might be!
I'd hunt and fish right merrily!
Be silent, heart!
And it chanced that, after this some time, -
Rohtraut, Beauty Rohtraut, -
The boy in the Castle has gained access,
And a horse he has got and a huntsman's dress,
To hunt and to fish with the merry Princess;
And, O! that a king's son I might be!
Beauty Rohtraut I love so tenderly.
Hush! hush! my heart.
Under a grey old oak they sat,
Beauty, Beauty Rohtraut!
She laughs: 'Why look you so slyly at me?
If you have heart enough, come, kiss me.'
Cried the breathless boy, 'kiss thee?'
But he thinks, kind fortune has favoured my youth;
And thrice he has kissed Beauty Rohtraut's mouth.
Down! down! mad heart.
Then slowly and silently they rode home, -
Rohtraut, Beauty Rohtraut!
The boy was lost in his delight:
'And, wert thou Empress this very night,
I would not heed or feel the blight;
Ye thousand leaves of the wild wood wist
How Beauty Rohtraut's mouth I kiss'd.
Hush! hush! wild heart.'
poem by George Meredith
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Poison Heart
No one ever thought this one would survive
Helpless child, gonna walk a drum beat behind
Lock you in a dream, never let you go
Never let you laugh or smile, not you.
Well, I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart
I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart.
Making friends with a homeless torn up man
He just kind of smiles, it really shakes me up.
There's danger on every corner but I'm okay
Walking down the street trying to forget yesterday.
Well, I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart.
I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart,
a poison heart, a poison heart, a poison heart ... yeah!
You know that life really takes its toll
And a poet's gut reaction is to search his very soul
So much damn confusion before my eyes,
But nothing seems to phase me and this one still survives.
I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart.
I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart,
Well, I just want to walk right out of this world,
'Cause everybody has a poison heart.
a poison heart, a poison heart, a poison heart.
a poison heart, a poison heart, a poison heart.
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Okay At Christmas
First let me say merry Christmas
Hope you haven't yet spent up to the max
For again this is such a time of the year
When you should take a little more care
And for Christ's sake do what's fair
Prepare yourself to do a little charity
Then let those with much help others fairly
Even if you can't afford to do a great lot
The Saviour sees and knows what you've got
Just do your best He will do the rest
Do the work of love you'll be blessed
He whose birthday you're hoping to celebrate
Doubtless you guess He requires no less
Than for everyone to have a merry Christmas
Join me with a cheer for who takes care
To help the less fortunate share a Christmas
Happy be your spirit all along the way
The Child who was born upon this day
He reigns, our Saviour Christ the Lord
Three cheers to all for a merry Christmas
Let everyone give thanks for Christ the Lord
The beloved Son of God came to us at last
Who went on the cross and paid the cost
He did it to stop man from getting lost
Lift your hands and say merry Christmas.
poem by Clarence Prince
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Sparkle
I love that sparkle
you have within
the big bright eyes
that looks like stars
you catch my breath
I can not express
that loving feeling
I have when I'm with you
you make me smile
you make me laugh
I can't help but let you
walk into my heart
as much as I say I'm done
I honestly can not
I'll never forget you
because you're glued to my heart
I need to know you care
I truly can't help but bare
everything deep inside
every reason that I care
I care for you a lot
the way you're hair flows
those loving lips curve
to say hello
I can't believe I know
someone like you
someone who cares
and someone I need
you're a great person
don't get me wrong
but even without you
I'll learn to stand tall.
poem by Katherine Bryce
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Belles of Blue
The Scent of Bluebells brush the soul
And melt your tears away,
A gentle breeze through leafy trees
Gives purpose to your day.
The Shape of Bluebells cheers the heart
And lifts your spirit up,
Pure bells of joy sweet bells of cheer
To drain the bitter cup
The Smile of Bluebells clears the mind
And turns your fears to joy,
A smile to lighten all mankind
And every Girl and Boy.
The Sight of Bluebells in the wood
Confirms that Spring is here,
A carpet of the purest blue
To fill our lives with cheer.
The Strength of Bluebells is their 'Blue'
A colour so divine,
A lovely bright and heavenly hue
Sent from God's heart to mine.
The Source of Bluebells is the LORD
They grow at His command,
For by His own creative power
Each tree and flower was planned.
The Secret of the Blubells power
Lies in the joy it brings,
Inside the heart of every flower
The 'Joy of Heaven' rings.
Dedicated to all the lovely Belles in the PH Family
(John Knight - Colchester - October 2009)
poem by John Knight
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The Female Exile
Written at Brighthelmstone in Nov. 1792.
NOVEMBER'S chill blast on the rough beach is howling,
The surge breaks afar, and then foams to the shore,
Dark clouds o'er the sea gather heavy and scowling,
And the white cliffs re-echo the wild wintry roar.
Beneath that chalk rock, a fair stranger reclining,
Has found on damp sea-weed a cold lonely seat;
Her eyes fill'd with tears, and her heart with repining,
She starts at the billows that burst at her feet.
There, day after day, with an anxious heart heaving,
She watches the waves where they mingle with air;
For the sail which, alas! all her fond hopes deceiving,
May bring only tidings to add to her care.
Loose stream to wild winds those fair flowing tresses,
Once woven with garlands of gay summer flowers;
Her dress unregarded, bespeaks her distresses,
And beauty is blighted by grief's heavy hours.
Her innocent children, unconscious of sorrow,
To seek the gloss'd shell, or the crimson weed stray;
Amused with the present, they heed not to-morrow,
Nor think of the storm that is gathering to-day.
The gilt, fairy ship, with its ribbon sail spreading,
They launch on the salt pool the tide left behind;
Ah! victims--for whom their sad mother is dreading
The multiplied miseries that wait on mankind!
To fair fortune born, she beholds them with anguish,
Now wanderers with her on a once hostile soil,
Perhaps doom'd for life in chill penury to languish,
Or abject dependence, or soul-crushing toil.
But the sea-boat, her hopes and her terrors renewing,
O'er the dim grey horizon now faintly appears;
She flies to the quay, dreading tidings of ruin,
All breathless with haste, half expiring with fears.
Poor mourner!--I would that my fortune had left me
The means to alleviate the woes I deplore;
But like thine my hard fate has of affluence bereft me,
I can warm the cold heart of the wretched no more!
poem by Charlotte Smith
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Sonnet XXVI: Look In My Griefs
Look in my griefs, and blame me not to mourn,
From care to care that leads a life so bad;
Th'orphan of fortune, born to be her scorn,
Whose clouded brow doth make my days so sad.
Long are their nights whose cares do never sleep,
Loathsome their days whom no sun ever joy'd;
Her fairest eyes do penetrate so deep
That thus I live both day and night annoy'd.
But since the sweetest root doth yield thus much,
Her praise from my complaint I may not part;
I love th'effect for that the cause is such;
I'll praise her face and blame her flinty heart,
Whilst that we make the world admire at us,
Her for disdain, and me for longing thus.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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Where Did The Love Go
Where did the love go, what made the love you had go
My heart once more shattered, please tell me it isn't so
My bruised and broken heart bleed tears for what should have been forever
You promised in front of God to love me through thick and thin
I'ts over for you, For me it just begins
I shall never love another, just live day to day with all this pain
I'm so tired of loving alone, it just hurts too bad, I'm not to blame
You've let me go, even though i'm still here
I will continue to hang on no matter where you steer
I am a walking robot in your world, I will not show defeat
I will act like I don't care, I will not let you see my heartbeat
You will be dead to my heart, I will smile through my mask
You really lost this time love, I cannot afford to love, it's become a task!
poem by Donna Nimmo
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The Common Lot
It is a common fate – a woman’s lot –
To waste on one the riches of her soul,
Who takes the wealth she gives him, but cannot
Repay the interest, and much less the whole.
As I look up into your eyes, and wait
For some response to my fond gaze and touch,
It seems to me there is no sadder fate
Than to be doomed to loving overmuch.
Are you not kind? Ah, yes, so very kind –
So thoughtful of my comfort, and so true.
Yes, yes, dear heart; but I, not being blind,
Know that I am not loved, as I love you.
One tenderer word, a little longer kiss,
Will fill my soul with music and with song;
And if you seem abstracted, or I miss
The heart-tone from your voice, my world goes wrong.
And oftentimes you think me childish – weak –
When at some thoughtless word the tears will start;
You cannot understand how aught you speak
Has power to stir the deapths of my poor heart.
I cannot help it, dear – I wish I could,
Or feign indifference where I now adore;
For if I seemed to love you less, you would,
Manlike, I have no doubt, love me the more.
‘Tis a sad gift, that much applauded thing,
A constant heart; for fact doth daily prove
That constancy finds oft a cruel sting,
While fickle natures win the deeper love.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Heart seldom fails
originality seizes the world
the way the sculptor chisels
a block of wood to reveal
his vision, the beauty behind it
the work becomes the proof
of his idea and it lends a stage
for the world to stand on
shine on like a diamond
this heart is a boundless field
for original thoughts to shower on
the eyes see, the mind perceives
and reasons, but it is the heart, the heart, is the one
hardest to convince - it turns an avert face
once a less than perfect idea knocks
on its door
the world is cast with a heart
and it's a heart that shall determine
its fate and fortune, and it seldom fails
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Elegy for Jonathan, the Prince
stately tall you meekly stand
on your finger the signet band
for my sake you shunned your crown
for my breath your devotion fierce
you gave for me your sword and squire
your hospitality did never tire
proud brothers in battle or play
companions going about each day
in your shadow I had no care
my home's cupboards were never bare
song and merriment never missed
hunger a stranger to my lips
your place at court set second to mine
your heart pure - best fruit of vine
your eyes reflect esteem so dear
no man's affection held so near
O gallant Prince in battle slain
my soul cries out for you in pain
Saul's crown you've set upon my head -
a long-held secret I shan't covet
My lord, one could never repay;
the debt of friendship's love dismay?
to live this life as noble and true
to generously care and give as you
Prince of the Realm, if you could hear
the Scroll of the Upright, loud and clear
in the Song of the Bow proclaimed
praise of our filial bond inscribed.
`
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Ode to King Saul's Son
'
stately tall you meekly stand
on your finger the signet band
for my sake you shunned your crown
for my breath your devotion fierce
you gave for me your sword and squire
your hospitality did never tire
proud brothers in battle or play
companionly we went about each day
in your shadow I had no care
my home's cupboards were never bare
song and merriment never missed
hunger a stranger to my lips
your place at court set second to mine
your heart pure - best fruit of the vine
your eyes reflect esteem so dear
no man's affection held so near
O gallant Prince in battle slain
my soul cries out for you in pain
why you've set Saul's crown on my head -
a long-held secret I shan't covet
My lord, could one ever repay;
the debt of friendship's love dismay?
to live this life as noble and true
to generously care and give as you
Prince of the Realm, if you could hear
the Scroll of the Upright, loud and clear
in the Song of the Bow proclaimed
praise of our filial bond inscribed.
'
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Stay With Me (o' Dear Heart Of Mine)
stay with me
o' dear heart
live with me
my soulheart
come with me
sit with me
talk with me
sing with me
dream with me
o' dear heart of mine
kneel with me
feel with me
smile a joy with me
pain a tear with me
frown with me
but come with me
and stay with thee
dance with me
chance with me
cleanse my heart
and stay with me
o' dear heart of mine
plan with me
journey with me
run with me
walk with me
o' dear heart of mine
brand with me
trend with me
trek with me
pray with me
thirst with me
quench with me
o' dear heart of mine
deal with me
seal with me
not steal with me
but steel with me
care with me
tenderly, humbly
o' dear heart of mine
friend with me
blend with me
mend with me
bend with me
nod with me
unto lord with me
come on board with me
o' dear heart of mine
fear not with me
as far as i see
a life to be
with you and me
o' dear heart of mine
corn with me
form with me
shape with me
tape with me
face with me
race with me
sense with me
nurse with me
o' dear heart of mine
nap with me
not a trap with me
this time
o' dear soul of mine
proud is me
rock with me
my heart
o' dear heart
of mine
map with me
wap with me
come with me
alone with me
stare with me
not to sick me
nor seek me
but stay with me
o' dear heart of mine
cross with me
boss with me
sail with me
rail with me
if i cry
cry with me
when i die
die with me
o' dear heart of mine
cold with me
fold with thee
rainbow with me
shine with me
rise with me
fall with me
stay with me
o' dear heart of mine
share
and care
with thee
o' dear heart of thine
**stay with me o' dear heart of mine** january 2012 ebook
(r) opn
(c) 09.01.2012
2159hrs
***ntema's unique poetry (nup)
(p) all rights of this piece are those of the poet.
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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