Again
Well, I've met her again-at the Mission.
She'd told me to see her no more;
It was not a command-a petition;
I'd granted it once before.
Yes, granted it, hoping she'd write me.
Repenting her virtuous freak-
Subdued myself daily and nightly
For the better part of a week.
And then ('twas my duty to spare her
The shame of recalling me) I
Just sought her again to prepare her
For an everlasting good-bye.
O, that evening of bliss-shall I ever
Forget it?-with Shakespeare and Poe!
She said, when 'twas ended: 'You're never
To see me again. And now go.'
As we parted with kisses 'twas human
And natural for me to smile
As I thought, 'She's in love, and a woman:
She'll send for me after a while.'
But she didn't; and so-well, the Mission
Is fine, picturesque and gray;
It's an excellent place for contrition
And sometimes she passes that way.
That's how it occurred that I met her,
And that's ah there is to tell-
Except that I'd like to forget her
Calm way of remarking: 'I'm well.'
It was hardly worth while, all this keying
My soul to such tensions and stirs
To learn that her food was agreeing
With that little stomach of hers.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Related quotes
Body Of God!
forgive me, i erred,
i thought God contained
in the wind.... but twas
only one breath of infinity!
i thought i saw God
in the starving child's eyes,
but twas only one heartbeat
of compassion!
i thought i heard God
in the cries of the dying
on the battlefields of greed...
but twas human despair!
i thought i found God
down in the homeless shelter,
but twas only the faces
of my brothers and sisters!
so i walked away,
thinking God didnt care....
then a voice startled me...
'but you're my body! '
poem by Eric Cockrell
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My Dream About You
My grief 'twas unendurable
Suffocating each instant in my breaths sigh
Ne'er to forget the reality that 'twas you
Forever as the Benediction of light in the sky;
Oh, that final moment still tarrys too long
All the flowers burned in a pyre of despair
I looked for a book of answers or an anthem
Suffering 'twas almost too much to bear;
I chose to praise your inner beauty and balance
Loosing myself in the immortal life stream
Recalling your face in a fragment of sweet memory
Oh, how blessed, are those who can still dream;
poem by Theodora Onken
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I Had No Need
I had no need to be awake.
'Twas better in my bed.
The thought of facing life without him
was a thought better dead.
I had no need to open my eyes.
'Twas better not to see.
The thought of seeing the sun without him
was devastating to me.
I had no need to know the time.
'Twas better that time slip away.
The thought of time lingering now
is endless time each day.
There are no needs that now are mine.
'Twas a time I had them all.
We woke, we saw and knew the time,
now too hurtful to recall.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Repentance And Reconciliation
JANE.
Mamma is displeased and looks very grave,
And I own, brother, I was to blame
Just now when I told her I wanted to have,
Like Miss Lydia, a very fine name.
'Twas foolish, for, Robert, Jane sounds very well,
When mamma says, 'I love my good Jane.'
I've been lately so naughty, I hardly can tell
If she ever will say so again.
ROBERT.
We are each of us foolish, and each of us young,
And often in fault and to blame.
Jane, yesterday I was too free with my tongue,
I acknowledge it now to my shame.
For a speech in my good mother's hearing I made,
Which reflected upon her whole sex;
And now like you, Jenny, I am much afraid
That this might my dear mother vex.
JANE.
But yet, brother Robert, 'twas not quite so bad
As that naughty reflection of mine,
When I grumbled because Liddy Bellenger had
Dolls and dresses expensive and fine.
For then 'twas of her, her own self, I complained;
Since mamma does provide all I have.
MOTHER.
Your repentance, my children, I see is unfeigned,
You are now my good Robert, and now my good Jane;
And if you will never be naughty again,
Your fond mother will never look grave.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Tinker Dick
Good Parson Dickson preached, I'm told,
A sermon-ah, 'twas very old
And very, very, bald!
'Twas all about-I know not what
It was about, nor what 'twas not.
'A Screw Loose' it was called.
Whatever, Parson Dick, you say,
The world will get each blessed day
Still more and more askew,
And fall apart at last. Great snakes!
What skillful tinker ever takes
His tongue to turn a screw?
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Man And Bottle
Just an empty brandy bottle by the door
An empty bottle standing on the floor
Last week 'twas worth a carpenter's day's pay
But now it isn't worth taking away.
Last week 'twas full of brandy to the top
But in it now there's not a single drop
Just like a candy box without the candy
What value a brandy bottle without brandy?
The man who drank the brandy he is dead
Like all dead men a pine box is his bed
He rests in peace where all dead people lay
Six foot under graveyard earth and clay.
He drank the brandy and then drove his car
But alas the poor man did not travel far
His car left the road and crashed against a tree
And with his life he paid for gluttony.
Next time you're in a bar and have to drive a car, do think
Hard liquor is a thing you ought not drink
Spare a thought for the poor man who drank the brandy
And ask the publican for a beer shandy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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November's Chill
For 'twas in November's month
the change of guards took place
the month my heart fell to sleep
For 'twas in that darken time
our Love slowly faded away
and in passing, our words were few.
And I am left lonely an' oh so cold.....
For 'twas in November's month
we became two ships in passing
entering port's harbour at separate times
For 'twas in that lonely state
two hearts screamed of Love
and the sheets never warmed again.
And I am left lonely an' oh so cold.......
For 'twas in Novembers month
we tasted Love once again
and like the first time I know home
For 'twas in that lonely bed
separately we lay our heads
yet in dream, you are near as am I
No longer left lonely an' oh so cold...........
poem by Geoff Warden
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Street Mission
I dont know
Man, I just got here
You got me thinking
Im about to leave
Some say maybe tomorrow
New direction, hello
What I know know know
What I know know know
I walk tall
I walk in the wild wind
I love to stare
I love to watch myself grow
Someday, maybe tomorrow
New direction, hello
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
And Im promising nothing
Im just living a smile
I casually arrange it
I know...well I know know know
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
I walk tall
I walk in the wild wind
I live an image
Of plastic and gold
Some say maybe tomorrow
A resurrection, hello
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Oh...
Oh...
Oh...i need something
I need someone
I need you
Oh...Ive got something
Ive got someone
Ive got you
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Good night
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Street Missions
I don't know
Man, I just got here
You got me thinking
I'm about to leave
Some say maybe tomorrow
New direction, hello
What I know know know
What I know know know
I walk tall
I walk in the wild wind
I love to stare
I love to watch myself grow
Someday, maybe tomorrow
New direction, hello
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
And I'm promising nothing
I'm just living a smile
I casually arrange it
I know...well I know know know
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
I walk tall
I walk in the wild wind
I live an image
Of plastic and gold
Some say maybe tomorrow
A resurrection, hello
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Oh...
Oh...
Oh...I need something
I need someone
I need you
Oh...I've got something
I've got someone
I've got you
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Good night
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To G. C. And R. L.
'TWAS you, or I, or he, or all together,
'Twas one, both, three of them, they know not whether;
This, I believe, between us great or small,
You, I, he, wrote it not--'twas Churchill's all.
poem by Oliver Goldsmith
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Twas Called Destiny
Day after day of our depart
Felt like souls were so apart
torn the bleeding of gloomy heart
'twas none false rather an art
Lie mine glimpse of her and thoughts
'twas not blue but evergreen
thus I realize 'twas thy-naught
mine dearest, Dulcinea, Queen
I-naught God to change that part
Our lives' novel yet to start
Sought mine princess, eye's of mine darling
evergreen, yet blood & immortal beating
Mine notorious canvas painted smile
barely truth, yet never a wile
the actress shalt never be the character
The beating's integration'll never dissever
As long as hands weren't held to hands
you'd hear my cry in thine dream lands
My beseech'Hey juliet! wanna be thine romeo! '
Listen close, for 'twas beating like stereo
Blind, I'm stepping my way to thee
Shoe by shoe, to my dream come true
Again if vision meet, 'twas no serendipity
'twasn't just fortunate, it's our destiny.
poem by Ellirie Aviles
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The Separation
We knew too little of the world,
And you and I were good—
’Twas paltry things that wrecked our lives
As well I knew they would.
The people said our love was dead,
But how were they to know?
Ah! had we loved each other less
We’d not have quarrelled so.
We knew too little of the world,
And you and I were kind,
We listened to what others said
And both of us were blind.
The people said ’twas selfishness,
But how were they to know?
Ah! had we both more selfish been
We’d not have parted so.
But still when all seems lost on earth
Then heaven sets a sign—
Kneel down beside your lonely bed,
And I will kneel by mine,
And let us pray for happy days—
Like those of long ago.
Ah! had we knelt together then
We’d not have parted so.
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Parcae; Or, Three Dainty Destinies:the Armilet
Three lovely sisters working were,
As they were closely set,
Of soft and dainty maiden-hair,
A curious Armilet.
I, smiling, ask'd them what they did,
Fair Destinies all three?
Who told me they had drawn a thread
Of life, and 'twas for me.
They shew'd me then how fine 'twas spun
And I replied thereto;
'I care not now how soon 'tis done,
Or cut, if cut by you.'
poem by Robert Herrick
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Slander
'Twas but a breath--
And yet the fair, good name was wilted;
And friends once fond grew cold and stilted,
And life was worse than death.
One venomed word,
That struck its coward, poisoned blow,
In craven whispers, hushed and low--
And yet the wide world heard.
'Twas but one whisper--one,
That muttered low, for very shame,
The thing the slanderer dared not name--
And yet its work was done.
A hint so slight,
And yet so mighty in its power,
A human soul in one short hour
Lies crushed beneath its blight.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Twas Love—not me
394
'Twas Love—not me—
Oh punish—pray—
The Real one died for Thee—
Just Him—not me—
Such Guilt—to love Thee—most!
Doom it beyond the Rest—
Forgive it—last—
'Twas base as Jesus—most!
Let Justice not mistake—
We Two—looked so alike—
Which was the Guilty Sake—
'Twas Love's—Now Strike!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Rape of the Trap. A Ballad
'Twas in a land of learning,
The Muse's favourite city,
Such pranks of late
Were play'd by a rat,
As-tempt one to be witty.
All in a college study,
Where books were in great plenty;
This rat would devour
More sense in an hour,
Than I could write-in twenty.
Corporeal food, 'tis granted,
Serves vermin less refined,
Sir But this, a rat of taste,
All other rats surpass'd,
And he prey'd on the food of the mind, Sir.
His breakfast, half the morning
He constantly attended;
And when the bell rung
For evening song,
His dinner scarce was ended!
He spared not even heroics,
On which we poets pride us,
And would make no more
Of King Arthurs, by the score,
Than-all the world beside does.
In books of geography
He made the maps to flutter;
A river or a sea
Was to him a dish of tea;
And a kingdom, bread and butter.
But if some mawkish potion
Might chance to overdose him,
To check its rage,
He took a page
Of logic-to compose him-
A Trap, in haste and anger,
Was brought, you need not doubt on't,
And, such was the gin,
Were a lion once got in,
He could not, I think, get out on't.
With cheese, not books, 'twas baited;
The fact-I'll not belie it-
Since none-I tell you that-
Whether scholar or rat,
Minds books when he has other diet.
But more of Trap and bait, Sir,
Why should I sing, or either?
Since the rat, who knew the sleight,
Came in the dead of night,
And dragg'd them away together.
Both Trap and bait were vanish'd
Through a fracture in the flooring;
Which though so trim
It now may seem
Had then-a dozen or more in.
Then answer this, ye sages!
Nor deem I mean to wrong ye,
Had the rat, which thus did seize on
The Trap, less claim to reason,
Than many a skull among ye?
Dan Prior's mice, I own it,
Were vermin of condition;
But this rat, who merely learn'd
What rats alone concern'd,
Was the greater politician.
That England's topsyturvy
Is clear from these mishaps, Sir;
Since Traps, we may determine,
Will no longer take our vermin,
But vermin take our Traps, Sir.
Let sophs, by rats infested,
Then trust in cats to catch them,
Lest they grow as learn'd as we
In our studies ; where, d' ye see,
No mortal sits to watch them.
Good luck betide our captains,
Good luck betide our cats, Sir,
And grant that the one
May quell the Spanish Don,
And the other destroy our rats, Sir.
poem by William Shenstone
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The Setup
Lie to me
Tell me that everything will be all right
(Who-o-a)Lie to me
Don't say it didn't mean anything
1-2-3 GO!
I should have known when my kicks
Crossed the hinge on your door
That you had something more in store
Implore
Do not push my back up to the wall (x2)
This is a set up
Rush adrenaline
Fake, phony, fed up
Bass, Alkaline
This is a set up
Waste everything
You never told me
Till the pressure started building
You never told me
I was wrong
I was right (x2)
You never told me
Till the building started shaking
Now I'm surrounded on all sides
Lie to me
Tell me that everything will be all right
(Who-o-a)Lie to me
Don't say it didn't mean anything
Lie to me
Killing joke cause your smile was the calm to the storm
And the ties that bind have been torn
I said
Do not push my back to the wall (x2)
Repeat Chorus You take this for granted
Right?
And I never wanted anybody else
You took this all for granted
You took it all
song performed by by Zebrahead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Polyphemus
Twas a sick young man with a face ungay
And an eye that was all alone;
And he shook his head in a hopeless way
As he sat on a roadside stone.
'O, ailing youth, what untoward fate
Has made the sun to set
On your mirth and eye?' 'I'm constrained to state
I'm an ex-West Point cadet.
''Twas at cannon-practice I got my hurt
And my present frame of mind;
For the gun went off with a double spurt-
Before it, and also behind!'
'How sad, how sad, that a fine young chap,
When studying how to kill,
Should meet with so terrible a mishap
Precluding eventual skill.
'Ah, woful to think that a weapon made
For mowing down the foe
Should commit so dreadful an escapade
As to turn about to mow!'
No more he heeded while I condoled:
He was wandering in his mind;
His lonely eye unconsidered rolled,
And his views he thus defined:
''Twas O for a breach of the peace-'twas O
For an international brawl!
But a piece of the breech-ah no, ah no,
I didn't want that at all.'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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The Sparrow's Fall
Too frail to soar -- a feeble thing --
It fell to earth with fluttering wing;
But God, who watches over all,
Beheld that little sparrow's fall.
'Twas not a bird with plumage gay,
Filling the air with its morning lay;
'Twas not an eagle bold and strong,
Borne on the tempest's wing along.
Only a brown and weesome thing,
With drooping head and listless wing;
It could not drift beyond His sight
Who marshals the splendid stars of night.
Its dying chirp fell on His ears,
Who tunes the music of the spheres,
Who hears the hungry lion's call,
And spreads a table for us all.
Its mission of song at last is done,
No more will it greet the rising sun;
That tiny bird has found a rest
More calm than its mother's downy breast
Oh, restless heart, learn thou to trust
In God, so tender, strong and just;
In whose love and mercy everywhere
His humblest children have a share.
If in love He numbers ev'ry hair,
Whether the strands be dark or fair,
Shall we not learn to calmly rest,
Like children, on our Father's breast?
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Sonnet # 50 William Shakespeare
Twas in merry olde England many a year ago
The bard weaved his sort'd tales
Of tragedy, revenge, love and comedy
Of each twas said he knew'th all to well
Oh how that quill must of scratched long into the night
Whilst he penn'd the words his heart held so dear
Surrounded by the glow of candle light, illuminating
A solitary figure t'which the world now so reveres
Romance dripped from every love fill'd sonnet
The two sexes to him was fair game
For he himself twas not prejudice against amour
For both he could love'th just the same
Sweet William in history did'st thou carve thy rightful place
When thee took thy pen in hand and enlighten'd the human race
poem by John A. Hancock
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