Envy
He was the first always: Fortune
Shone bright in his face.
I fought for years; with no effort
He conquered the place:
We ran; my feet were all beeding,
But he won the race.
Spite of his many successes,
Men loved him the same;
My one pale ray of good fortune
Met scoffing and blame.
When we erred, they gave him pity,
But me -- only shame.
My home was still in the shadow,
His lay in the sun:
I longed in vain: what he asked for
It straightway was done.
Once I staked all my heart's treasure,
We played -- and he won.
Yes, and just now I have seen him,
Cold, smiling, and blest,
Laid in his coffin. God help me!
While he is at rest,
I am cursed still to live: -- even
Death loved him the best.
poem by Adelaide Anne Procter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
0004 The gifts which gifted on..
This is the story that the tribe,
sitting together crosslegged,
children at their feet,
tell about
the first gift
a man so loved his wife
that one day at that season of the year
when the sun is so low in the sky
that there is fear that it might disappear
and only the wise old men, say
this is the time for hope and prayer
and the sun will return the stronger
and we, the more joyful
this man so loved his wife
that one day he brought home
besides the daily food,
a beautiful thing he found
and gave it to her
because he loved her
and she, overcome by this
new event, kept that
beautiful thing carefully hidden
to remind her of his love
for many years
until one day, because
she loved her son so much that
she in turn gave that beautiful thing
to him
and the moment she handed it
to him, the beautiful thing
shone more brightly than the sun
so bright that he shone too
and the tribe say, they learnt from this
that gifts received are gifts unearned
but come from grace itself; they are not
magic gifts until
you pass them on to someone else
and then you are indeed blest by them
and grace surrounds you as the sun
this is what that tribe say
sitting there crosslegged,
the children at their feet
at this season of the year
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Love Story(The King And I)
Once in time, there lived a king
Who lives still, nor ever could die
Who lived neither in space nor time
But made them both alike
For his queen to breathe and move
While he watched from not so far a distance
As she danced and played, and laughed and ached
He loved her so, and longed to show her so
Born by love, she sought for love
In all the wrong places and all the wrong people
While all the while the love she sought
Was in her, was by her, was for her, and with her
The time had come for her to know
The one who indeed loved her so
'I am God', he said, I love you so
And this I did, and that I did, to show you so
I'd love for you to love me too and show me so
Let me in, and make me your king or something in between
She took him in, and became his queen
And him her king and so much more
He fought for her, the apple of his eye
The beauty from his ashes
There lied a problem, he knew her number
The number of her days
He unbound by time, loved one bound in time
To live forever, he died to save her
She cried and cried, for he was gone away
I'm building our kingdom, he said in a letter
I'll be back so soon, I miss you too
A day to her, a thousand years to him
She waited and waited, and then became like knaves
She said these words when are days were made:
To my darling, my love, my king
You walked with me, you talked with me
Now I'm here, so far from you
My conscience is fading
With evil prevailing
The thoughts that walk the streets of my mind
Are far from good, my heart far from home
Years unending, I did my will
And chased the thrills of my will
Despair revealed his face in mine
As all I got was pain and shame
I could apologize for falling short today
And still fall short tomorrow
I am frail...I am human
But in all my humanity
I have come to love your divinity
In the day I breathe my last
May I see your face
And rest forever in your arms
The King smiled and thought to himself
In all my divinity, I have come to love your humanity
Rest in peace my child, my love, my queen.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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The Farewell To The Dead
Come near!-ere yet the dust
Soil the bright paleness of the settled brow,
Look on your brother, and embrace him now,
In still and solemn trust!
Come near!-once more let kindred lips be press'd
On his cold cheek; then bear him to his rest!
Look yet on this young face!
What shall the beauty, from amongst us gone,
Leave of its image, ev'n where most it shone,
Gladdening its hearth and race?
Dim grows the semblance on man's heart impress'd-
-Come near, and bear the beautiful to rest!
Ye weep, and it is well!
For tears befit earth's partings!-Yesterday
Song was upon the lips of this pale clay,
And sunshine seem'd to dwell
Where'er he mov'd-the welcome and the bless'd!
-Now gaze! and bear the silent unto rest!
Look yet on him, whose eye
Meets yours no more, in sadness or in mirth!
Was he not fair amidst the sons of earth,
The beings born to die?
-But not where death has power may love be bless'd--
Come near! and bear ye the belov'd to rest!
How may the mother's heart
Dwell on her son, and dare to hope again?
The spring's rich promise hath been given in vain,
The lovely must depart!
Is he not gone, our brightest and our best?
Come near! and bear the early-call'd to rest!
Look on him! is he laid
To slumber from the harvest or the chase?
-Too still and sad the smile upon his face,
Yet that, ev'n that, must fade!
Death holds not long unchang'd his fairest guest,-
Come near! and bear the mortal to his rest!
His voice of mirth hath ceas'd
Amidst the vineyards! there is left no place
For him whose dust receives your vain embrace,
At the gay bridal feast!
Earth must take earth to moulder on her breast;
Come near! weep o'er him! bear him to his rest!
Yet mourn ye not as they
Whose spirit's light is quench'd!-for him the past
Is seal'd. He may not fall, he may not cast
His birthright's hope away!
All is not here of our belov'd and bless'd-
-Leave ye the sleeper with his God to rest!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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In Memory Of The Late G. C. Of Montreal
The earth was flooded in the amber haze
That renders so lovely our autumn days,
The dying leaves softly fluttered down,
Bright crimson and orange and golden brown,
And the hush of autumn, solemn and still,
Brooded o’er valley, plain and hill.
Yet still from that scene with rare beauty rife
And the touching sweetness of fading life,
From glowing foliage and sun bright ray,
My gaze soon mournfully turned away
To rest, instead, on a new made grave,
Enshrouding a heart true, loyal and brave.
At rest for aye! Cold and pulseless now
That high throbbing breast and calm, earnest brow;
Laid down forever the quick, gifted pen
That toiled but for God and his fellow men;
Silent that voice, free from hatred or ruth,
Yet e’er boldly raised in the cause of truth.
For the prize of our faith grateful he proved,
Breaking from ties and from scenes once loved,
From rank and fortune, and the lures of pride,
That tempt the gifted on every side,
To devote his genius—his pen of fire—
To aims more holy and themes far higher.
He was true to the land he had made his home,
And true to the grand old faith of Rome,
At whose feet he laid powers rarer than gold,
As knights laid their lances and shields of old,—
That Church on whose loving maternal breast
He peacefully sank to eternal rest.
Oh! no tears for him who passed away
Ere frame or spirit knew touch of decay,
Ere time had deadened one feeling warm,
Or his genius robbed of one single charm.
As he was when death struck, his image shall dwell
In the countless hearts that loved him so well.
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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Loved
Loved
Written by Ricky Wilde & Terry Ronald
Take all your goodness and shiness away
I'll tell you the things I've been longing to say
I'll break it to you just so you understand
The force and control that you hold in your hands
Make me the beat of your heart
Then fall into mine
One step at a time
You have no reason for doubting your feelings
Love isn't always the same
You are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
You are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
(Ooh you are loved)
Live for the moment according to you
And so when the time comes you know what to do
Trust me, I'm giving no secret away
I'm drowning in you but I want it that way
Make me the beat of your heart
Then fall into mine
One step at a time
You have no reason for doubting your feelings
Love isn't always the same
You are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
You are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
You are loved
(Ooh you are loved)
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
You are loved
(Ooh you are loved)
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
Rise to my world, fly to my arms
I love you
I'll make it for good, I'll make it forever
you know you are loved
Make me the beat of your heart
Love isn't always the same
You are loved
Ooh you are loved
(Loved you are)
(Loved you are)
(Loved you are loved)
Ooh you are loved
(Loved you are)
(Loved you are)
(Loved you are loved)
Ooh you are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
Ooh you are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
(You are the only one I love)
You are loved
(Loved you are)
You are loved
(Loved you are)
You are loved
You I love
You
(You are the only one I love)
You are loved
(Loved you are)
You are loved
(Loved you are)
You are loved
You I love
You
(You are the only one I love
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shame of Going Back
When you've come to make a fortune and you haven't made your salt,
And the reason of your failure isn't anybody's fault -
When you haven't got a billet, and the times are very slack,
There is nothing that can spur you like the shame of going back;
Crawling home with empty pockets,
Going back hard-up;
Oh! it's then you learn the meaning of humiliation's cup.
When the place and you are strangers and you struggle all alone,
And you have a mighty longing for the town where you are known;
When your clothes are very shabby and the future's very black,
There is nothing that can hurt you like the shame of going back.
When we've fought the battle bravely and are beaten to the wall,
'Tis the sneers of men, not conscience, that make cowards of us all;
And the while you are returning, oh! your brain is on the rack,
And your heart is in the shadow of the shame of going back.
When a beaten man's discovered with a bullet in his brain,
They POST-MORTEM him, and try him, and they say he was insane;
But it very often happens that he'd lately got the sack,
And his onward move was owing to the shame of going back.
Ah! my friend, you call it nonsense, and your upper lip is curled,
I can see that you have never worked your passage through the world;
But when fortune rounds upon you and the rain is on the track,
You will learn the bitter meaning of the shame of going back;
Going home with empty pockets,
Going home hard-up;
Oh, you'll taste the bitter poison in humiliation's cup.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Men Of Good Fortune
Men of good fortune
Often cause empires to fall
While men of poor beginnings
Often cant do anything at all
The rich son waits for his father to die
The poor just drink and cry
And me, I just dont care at all
Men of good fortune
Very often cant do a thing
While men of poor beginnings
Often can do anything
At heart they try to act like a man
Handle things the best way they can
They have no rich, daddy to fall back on
Men of good fortune
Often cause empires to fall
While men of poor beginnings
Often cant do anything at all
It takes money to make money they say
Look at the fords, but didnt they start that way
Anyway, it makes no difference to me
Men of good fortune
Often wish that they could die
While men of poor beginnings
Want what they have and to get it theyll die
All those great things that live has to give
They wanna have money and live
But me, I just dont care at all
Men of good fortune
Men of poor beginnings
Men of good fortune
Men of poor beginnings
Men of good fortune
Men of poor beginnings
Men of good fortune
Men of poor beginnings
...
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wishing-Caps
Life's all getting and giving,
I've only myself to give.
What shall I do for a living?
I've only one life to live.
End it? I'll not find another.
Spend it? But how shall I best?
Sure the wise plan is to live like a man
And Luck may look after the rest!
Largesse! Largesse, Fortune!
Give or hold at your will.
If I've no care for Fortune,
Fortune must follow me still.
Bad Luck, she is never a lady
But the commonest wench on the street,
Shuffling, shabby and shady,
Shameless to pass or meet.
Walk with her once--it's a weakness!
Talk to her twice. It's a crime!
Thrust her away when she gives you "good day"
And the besom won't board you next time.
Largesse! Largesse, Fortune!
What is Your Ladyship's mood?
If I have no care for Fortune,
My Fortune is bound to be good!
Good Luck she is never a lady
But the cursedest quean alive!
Tricksy, wincing and jady,
Kittle to lead or drive.
Greet her--she's hailing a stranger!
Meet her--she's busking to leave.
Let her alone for a shrew to the bone,
And the hussy comes plucking your sleeve!
Largesse! Largesse, Fortune!
I'll neither follow nor flee.
If I don't run after Fortune,
Fortune must run after me!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Stories Of Hope Series #12 Forsaken
My heart was forsaken by the one I loved
She said my love wasn’t good enough.
If I truly loved her I would give her the material things
Necklaces, pearls, and diamond rings.
She said that love is in the giving
Without these things life is not worth living.
That’s when I decided to change my tune
I couldn’t get away too soon.
I took my heart and hid it deep in my chest
And to protect it I would do my best.
I became like a zombie- mindless and blank
And my heart I did forsake.
Surrounded by people that I did not see
Feeling hurt and angry as can be.
Friends and family started to pull away.
there was nothing left for them to say.
Then I was walking home from work one night
I glanced down the street, there was this
Woman rubbing her feet.
As I got closer I could see that her ankle
Was as swollen as can be.
Can I help you? Do you need a hand?
She answered: well! “If you could
Help me try to stand.”
Her foot so swollen she screamed in pain
Trying to walk would be in vain.
I asked her: where do you live?
She said: “up the block- the house on the corner
On the second floor.”
I knew that she could not walk no more.
I swooped her up in my arms, and started down the street
The smell of her perfume delicious and sweet.
I had never really looked at her face until then
She had light brown hair, and eyes as well
When I felt my heart begin to swell.
A smile from ear to ear, and of me she had no fear.
I carried her all the way home, and up the steps
To her door. (I felt as if I had been here before)
I asked: do you need a hand to get in?
She looked at me with a grin.
She said: you carried me this far, if you’d like
Some coffee, I’ll open the jar.”
I opened the door and carried her to a chair
The apartment looked small and comfortable
And quite fair.
I said: I’ll make the coffee! You just sit and rest
I’m not good at this, but I’ll do my best.
I made the coffee and we sat and talked
Time passed by quickly and we didn’t know
That the sun was coming up, and it was time to go.
The sun shone thru the blinds creating reflections
On the mirrored wall.
Prisms of light surrounded our faces
And we saw our faces all aglow
It was truly amazing and quite a show.
I asked her if I could see her again
And hopefully become more than a friend.
She said: I would really like that to.
So I told her I will call on you.
My heart had finally become free, and took me
Out of this misery.
For six months we dated and enjoyed each others company
The riches I gave her, she gave back to me.
Love has no price, but yet worth more than gold
And it is something that we can truly hold.
Not in our hands but in our hearts, and it becomes the biggest part.
We had become more than friends, and I guess you know the end.
HOPE IS THE KEY TO SET OURSELVES FREE.
poem by Louis Rams
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Epitaph
ir, you shall notice me: I am the Man;
I am Good Fortune: I am satisfied.
All I desired, more than I could desire,
I have: everything has gone right with me.
Life was a hiding-place that played me false;
I croucht ashamed, and still was seen and scorned:
But now I am not seen. I was a fool,
And now I know what wisdom dare not know:
For I know Nothing. I was a slave, and now
I have ungoverned freedom and the wealth
That cannot be conceived: for I have Nothing.
I lookt for beauty and I longed for rest,
And now I have perfection: nay, I am
perfection: I am nothing, I am dead.
poem by Lascelles Abercrombie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Pillar of the Cloud
Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home --
Lead Thou me on!
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene, -- one step enough for me.
I was not ever thus, nor pray'd that Thou
Should'st lead me on.
I loved to choose and see my path; but now
Lead Thou me on!
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.
So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still
Will lead me on,
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone;
And with the morn those angel faces smile
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.
poem by John Henry Newman
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Alone (2)
To be defeated by death was not for Him
He fought alone our souls to win.
They took Him down from that rugged cross of shame
He'd died alone to bear our blame.
Another mans tomb was given as a grave
alone laid He Who came to save.
But this dark sepulchre could not keep Him in
For He alone had conquered sin.
Triumphantly He burst through gates of Hell
For He alone was to prevail.
Now in heaven exalted upon the throne
all men bow before Him alone.
Love Never Loved Me
I live for love, and all it brings
The heart it heals the song it sings
The sweetest kiss, the warm embrace
Will melt the ice before it breaks
No matter what I do, no matter what I say
What can I do when nothing stays the same
It's written in the stars, the story ends the same
Everything changes
Love never loved me
Love left me out in the cold
Love never loved me
Love gave up on me after all
I've taken chances, set them free
I've taken back virginity
I've been adored, I've been the one
I've broken hearts, I've had my fun
No matter what I do, no matter what I say
What can I do when nothing stays the same
It's written in the stars, the story ends the same
Everything changes
Love never loved me
Love left me out in the cold
Love never loved me
Love gave up on me after all
You can't break a heart that's already broken
You can't steal a heart that's already stolen
And what doesn't kill me is making me strong
I'm ready for love
You can't break a heart that's already broken
You can't steal a heart that's already stolen
And what doesn't kill me is making me strong
I'm ready for love
Love never loved me
You can't break a heart that's already broken
You can't steal a heart that's already stolen
My greatest desire is to love and be loved
Cos I'm a believer I'm not giving up
And what doesn't kill me is making me strong
I'm waiting, I'm willing, I'm ready for love
Love never loved me
Love left me out in the cold
Love never loved me
Love gave up on me after all
Love never loved me (love never loved me)
Love left me out in the cold
Love never loved me (love never loved me)
Love gave up on me after all
song performed by by Geri Halliwell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Fortune
They say to celebrate
you should raise a glass or two,
but if you do not drink
that is something hard to do.
Instead, you can toast
by raising a cup of tea
and light several candles
for the more misfortunate
than you,
and then thank god
for bringing good fortune
to you.
Good fortune may not be money
to line your pockets well.
Good fortune might be the joy
of triumphing over adversity,
or it could be
getting over your fears.
Whatever good fortune
means to you.
You must celebrate
with happiness
and share your good fortune
with everyone
you will meet.
19 April 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Graves
HOW did he live, this dead man here,
With the temple above his grave?
He lived as a great one, from cradle to bier
He was nursed in luxury, trained in pride,
When the wish was born, it was gratified;
Without thanks he took, without heed he gave.
The common man was to him a clod
From whom he was far as a demigod.
His duties? To see that his rents were paid;
His pleasure? To know that the crowd obeyed.
His pulse, if you felt it, throbbed apart,
With a separate stroke from the people's heart.
But whom did he love, and whom did he bless?
Was the life of him more than a man's, or less?
I know not. He died. There was none to blame,
And as few to weep; but these marbles came
For the temple that rose to preserve his name!
How did he live, that other dead man,
From the graves apart and alone?
As a great one, too? Yes, this was one
Who lived to labor and study and plan.
The earth's deep thought he loved to reveal;
He banded the breast of the land with steel;
The thread of his toil he never broke;
He filled the cities with wheels and smoke,
And workers by day and workers by night,
For the day was too short for his vigor's flight.
Too firm was he to be feeling and giving:
For labor, for gain, was a life worth living.
He worshiped Industry, dreamt of her, sighed for her.
Potent he grew by her, famous he died for her.
They say he improved the world in his time,
That his mills and mines were a work sublime.
When he died—the laborers rested, and sighed;
Which was it—because he had lived, or died?
And how did he live, that dead man there,
In the country churchyard laid?
O, he? He came for the sweet field air;
He was tired of the town, and he took no pride
In its fashion or fame. He returned and died
In the place he loved, where a child he played
With those who have knelt by his grave and prayed.
He ruled no serfs, and he knew no pride;
He was one with the workers side by side;
He hated a mill, and a mine, and a town,
With their fever of misery, struggle, renown;
He could never believe but a man was made
For a nobler end than- the glory of trade.
For the youth he mourned with an endless pity
Who were cast like snow on the streets of the city.
He was weak, maybe; but he lost no friend;
Who loved him once, loved on to the end.
He mourned all selfish and shrewd endeavor;
But he never injured a weak one—never.
When censure was passed, he was kindly dumb;
He was never so wise but a fault would come;
He was never so old that he failed to enjoy
The games and the dreams he had loved when a boy.
He erred, and was sorry; but never drew
A trusting heart from the pure and true.
When friends look back from the years to be,
God grant they may say such things of me.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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I Loved You Once
I loved you once, with all my heart, my spirit, body, soul...
I loved you once, with all not part, with marriage as my goal...
I loved you once, with all my strength, as if I were on fire...
I loved you once, with all at length, as if love meant desire...
I loved you once, with all my dreams, which came by day and night...
I loved you once, with all extremes spent on this one delight...
I loved you once, with all God gave, with passion borne of joy...
I loved you once, with all to save romance and not some ploy...
I loved you once, with love divine, not holding back a thing...
I loved you once, with love benign that caused my heart to sing...
I loved you once, with happiness no other man has known...
I loved you once, with prayers to bless yet now I pray alone...
I loved you once, with each embrace, until the day you died...
I loved you once, with all God's grace yet now what sighs are sighed.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Intimacy Avoidance Syndrome
You had grown out of your marriage,
You said,
That’s why you loved me may be,
I guess,
But you grew out of your love even,
What a pity!
You would grow out of yourself too,
Some day,
You wouldn’t have a place to hide that day,
Your last day,
You may better go and take rest for good,
Others at peace.
The fact is you never loved anyone,
You suffer from Intimacy avoidance syndrome,
You could not be intimate with him,
So you loved me outside your marriage,
When I became intimate with you,
You ran away to your job, leaving even your son.
poem by Amit Biswas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Camp Within the West
O DID you see a troop go by
Way-weary and oppressed,
Dead kisses on the drooping lip
And a dead heart in the breast?
Yea, I have seen them one by one
Way-weary and oppressed,
And when I asked them, ‘Whither speed?’
They answered, ‘To the West!’
And were they pale as pale could be—
Death-pale with haunted eyes,
And did you see the hot white dust
Range round their feet and rise?
Oh, they were pale as pale could be,
And pale as an embered leaf;
The hot white dust had risen, but
They laid it with their grief.
Did no one say the way is long,
And crave a little rest?
Oh no, they said, ‘The night is nigh,
Our camp is in the West!’
And did pain pierce their feet, as though
The way with thorns were set,
And were they visited by strange
Dark angels of regret?
Oh yea, and some were mute as death,
Though shot by many a dart,
With them the salt of inward tears
Went stinging through the heart.
And how are these wayfarers called,
And whither do they wend?
The Weary-Hearted—and their road
At sunset hath and end.
Shed tears for them…Nay, nay, no tears!
They yearn for endless rest;
Perhaps large stars will burn above
Their camp within the West.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Gothic poetry Volume II; , Gothic romance shall be put away by death
Gothic romance shall be put away by death
I give my heart beneath my dead soul of heart
A loved dyeing my heart stops biting
Feelings of love has lost filled with sore of sorrow
Heat of the heart become so numb filled with sore once more
When feelings dies to death shall be a part into a divides hearts
One romance of love is a fatal of feeling appearing
Dies slowly as it lost of morning his loved
A pale face that frozen very much of cold
Beneath the fresh skin that once wasn’t frozen
A pealing skin once a beautiful gothic princesses
A written words “I shall dies with “my loved & my prince
Which I lost has dies cut with a love which
A slash with blood pouring a pound her bed
Where she laid a silent slept at the top of her dead bed
Yet she dies hours ago when her prince has dies long ago
A funeral for one a gothic lost her heart
Broth to two graves where the lover bury with
A peach of loved beneath the grave of death
poem by Putri Misnia Shary Bahri
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Man Who I loved
The man whom we loved
And who also loved us
Always did his best in life
And had many to place his trust
He was kind and courageous
And his strength went for ages
But sadly one day the strength had to go
As he lay weak and fragile
With others bowed low
I went to his kitchen to fetch him soup and a drink
And brought it back to him as he sat on the brink
How close to death he was,
I didn’t know
Nor did I know that cancer was his foe
However I still loved him
How I loved him so
And now all that’s left of him is a corpse in a coffin
It’s all that’s left of the Grandfather I know
poem by Emily Gurdon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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