The Disappointment
IN tears to her mother poor Harriet came,
Let us listen to hear what she says:
'O see, dear mamma, it is pouring with rain,
We cannot go out in the chaise.
'All the week I have long'd for this holiday so,
And fancied the minutes were hours;
And now that I'm dress'd and all ready to go,
Do look at those terrible showers! '
'I'm sorry, my dear, ' her kind mother replied,
The rain disappoints us to-day;
But sorrow still more that you fret for a ride,
In such an extravagant way.
'These slight disappointments are sent to prepare
For what may hereafter befall;
For seasons of real disappointment and care,
Which commonly happen to all.
'For just like to-day with its holiday lost,
Is life and its comforts at best:
Our pleasures are blighted, our purposes cross'd,
To teach us it is not our rest.
'And when those distresses and crosses appear,
With which you may shortly be tried,
You'll wonder that ever you wasted a tear
On merely the loss of a ride.
'But though the world's pleasures are fleeting and vain,
Religion is lasting and true;
Real pleasure and peace in her paths you may gain,
Nor will disappointment ensue. '
poem by Ann Taylor
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Related quotes
The Disappointment
In tears to her mother poor Harriet came,
Let us listen to hear what she says:
"O see, dear mamma, it is pouring with rain,
We cannot go out in the chaise.
"All the week I have long'd for this holiday so,
And fancied the minutes were hours;
And now that I'm dress'd and all ready to go,
Do look at those terrible showers! "
"I'm sorry, my dear, " her kind mother replied,
The rain disappoints us to-day;
But sorrow still more that you fret for a ride,
In such an extravagant way.
"These slight disappointments are sent to prepare
For what may hereafter befall;
For seasons of real disappointment and care,
Which commonly happen to all.
"For just like to-day with its holiday lost,
Is life and its comforts at best:
Our pleasures are blighted, our purposes cross'd,
To teach us it is not our rest.
"And when those distresses and crosses appear,
With which you may shortly be tried,
You'll wonder that ever you wasted a tear
On merely the loss of a ride.
"But though the world's pleasures are fleeting and vain,
Religion is lasting and true;
Real pleasure and peace in her paths you may gain,
Nor will disappointment ensue. "
poem by Jane Taylor
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Goodbye Mother Dear
Mother, mother, mother dear,
Can you hold me close, can you hold me near?
Mother, mother, oh mother dear,
Will you listen, listen to my words of fear?
Mother, I am inside your womb.
Mother, you hold the key.
Mother, is it too late, too soon?
Mother, what do you see?
I hear your heart beat, beat, beat,
It comforts me when I am asleep.
I feel your warmth, I feel your heat,
But mother dear, I feel you weep.
Mother, I am so full of fear.
Mother, I see it in your tear.
Mother, I know you cry and why.
Mother, I know we must say goodbye.
(if only you could let me grow
my love to you then i could show
but that i know cannot be so
the time has come for me to go)
Mother, mother, mother dear,
Do not feel guilt, do not feel fear.
Mother, mother, oh mother dear,
For a while, you held me near.
© Morney Wilson
poem by Morney Wilson
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The Moment of Rain
'You drenched yourself in rain as though you were in pain,
I could hear you crying in the sad music of rain;
Was the sorrow too deep that you had to hide in vain,
The tears under the shadow of the somber saddening rain?
Out there in a corner, I shared some secret dear sorrow,
Since the Moment of Rain: today too and may be another tomorrow;
The smiles did steal some flashes, and you seemed easy and fine,
But I was sobbing silently, inconsolable somewhat to pine;
For a whisper may be in the evening twilight from you side,
That all is fine and you are over it and the sorrow no longer did abide;
Had come too far from the Moment but still the sorrow stayed, Dear,
Like a soul's shadow it prods and does lie to deep for wanton tear;
The answer to the Moment of rain, my scared half glances still seek in vain,
There is still some proportion of the Sweetness of my own Dear pain:
I confess the crime of slowly pilfering the freedom that danced in the rain,
Might have been blind to the flight of the spirits: oh I was insane! '
poem by M.A. Parry Eugene
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The Saddest Fate
To touch a broken lute,
To strike a jangled string,
To strive with tones forever mute
The dear old tunes to sing--
What sadder fate could any heart befall?
Alas! dear child, never to sing at all.
To sigh for pleasures flown,
To weep for withered flowers,
To count the blessings we have known,
Lost with the vanished hours--
What sadder fate could any heart befall?
Alas! dear child, ne'er to have known them at all.
To dream of love and rest,
To know the dream has past,
To bear within an aching breast
Only a void at last--
What sadder fate could any heart befall?
Alas! dear child, ne'er to have loved at all.
To trust an unknown good,
To hope, but all in vain,
Over a far-off bliss to brood,
Only to find it pain--
What sadder fate could any soul befall?
Alas! dear child, never to hope at all.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Holiday Road
I found out long ago
It's a long way down the Holiday Road
Holiday Road
Holiday Road
Jack be nible, Jack be quick
Take a ride on a West Coast kick
Holiday Road
Holiday Road
Holiday Road
Holiday Road
I've come back long ago
Long way down the Holiday Road
Holiday Road
Holiday Road
Holiday Road
Holiday Road
song performed by by Lindsey Buckingham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Real Love
fall into the century of supersonic cross
blessed she in aching silence
eternal loss
calling out a warm surrender
a locket of her hair
I sympathize her pious pleasures
go down the stairs
into the dark again
to feel alive again
can't wait for
real love
or is it me you're after
is it time
cause it's now or never
real love
real love forever
real love
born of the ball and chain
into a world sustained with sorrow
real love
a real touch we're speaking
is it lies
or is it what we're seeking
real love
in the eyes behold and you'll find the 21st century
detonate her will and her widowed speech
buried in the backyard shadow
the rusty coffee tin
that held her mother's first kiss of nameless dream
fall down the stairs again
to feel alive against tomorrow
real love
or is it me you're after
is it time
cause it's now or never
real love
real love forever
is it mine
or just yours to treasure
real love
real love
real love
we never listen
real love will listen
and tell of our fortune
real love is riches
scratch through the changes
real love is nameless
so tired and hopeless
real love is painless
nobody mentions
we ever move to collect
the solar questions
demons' scorn surround relax
the laws of gravity
real love
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins from Machina II / Friends and Enemies of Modern Music
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother India
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
poem by Aziz Ahmad
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Mother India
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
poem by Aziz Ahmad 'Aziz Moradabadi'
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Pleasant Thoughts
A holiday, a holiday,
a real chance to get away.
To catch a plane, a boat, a train,
or cruise on down the inside lane.
With different views and how-do-you-dos,
and many interesting venues.
A holiday, a holiday.
Having found a place to stay,
enjoy the sights that greet the eyes,
sea, sun and sand with clear blue skies.
All of these things can so make your break,
a time to rest and ruminate.
A holiday, a holiday,
well inland, or out in a bay.
Sail a yacht maybe. Play a spot
of golf. Then if it gets too hot,
rest beside a pool. And to cool down,
take a dip, or turn a glowing brown.
A holiday, a holiday.
Book it right now with no delay.
Choose somewhere you would like to be,
locations for serenity,
siestas out under the stars,
or ones for fun and noise in bars.
A holiday, a holiday.
There’s something that I want to say.
Have a really long super spell,
of relaxation. One can dwell
on pleasant thoughts. Troubles to quell.
Revival of body and mind,
rejuvenating humankind.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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To Mother Dear on Mother’s Day 2010
We miss you mother dear, it’s true!
You were alive just days ago;
You vanished like the morning dew;
You’re gone to be with God, we know!
The love and care, you gave us, mom,
We know we can never repay;
Your lullabies in ears still hum;
We wish we could meet you some day!
From dawn till dusk, you slogged for us;
Oh, what a fine mother, you’ve been!
You walked more than going by bus;
You showed us how to avoid sin.
Oh, mother dear! Oh, mother dear!
You were a star upon this earth;
You seem afar and yet so near;
We thank you God for mother’s birth!
By death, you are just gone awhile;
We’ll pray for you the rest of life;
You successfully ran your mile,
As God helped you confront all strife.
We pray, your soul must rest in peace;
May Blessed Virgin bless you dear;
We hope our painful days soon cease,
May God take off our ever fear!
Fondly dedicated to my sweet mother,
(Late) Mrs.STELLA, CBE
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-7-2010
poem by John Celes
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The Great May
Who said the Spring was dead?
She would not come again,
Dust on her starry head,
For a sad world in pain?
The thing they have said in vain,
She comes new garlanded:
Lovely on hill and plain
Her lights, her flowers are shed.
Never was such a May!
Mercy of God, to prove
Life springs from the clay
And every treasured love
Walks in a heavenly grove.
The Lord God's holiday
To the soft coo of the dove
With the young lambs at play.
Lo! yours, and yours, are there,
I see them leap and run
In a May-world past compare
Whereof our God is sun.
They rejoice, yea, every one
In the ambient light and air,
Their pleasures are not done
From morn till evening star.
Never was such a Spring!
Oh, you whose eyes are wet,
Listen, take comforting,
Our God does not forget.
Poor folk that fear and fret
Your hours are on the wing
To the loves that wait you yet,
Raised up and triumphing.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Mom Song
This is for mom
Miss Linda Harwood
Miss Cathy Hill
This is for you.
I respect my mother
With every step I take
She was there for my first step
In the first place
Everybody wants out on their own
Now that I'm grown
I wanna be back home
In a world full of vipers
Only my mother's love was righteous
I feel I've been to hell and back three times
I could never sum it up with these rhymes
Looking for a story to share
With somebody, but they never seem to care
While I'm looking for this person everywhere
I'm slippin', cause my mom is right here
Life moves along so fast
When I see real love at last it's past
That ain't gonna happen to me
I can hear my conscience rapping to me
It's like Hey, you've only got one real friend
From the cradle, to the grave, and back again.
With unconditional love
That's my mother I'm speakin' of.
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
My love will never change (My love will never change)
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
(Mamma)
And I know it's true
Even in my darkest time
In my darkest hour
When my heart is blind
And I'm giving nobody respect
My mother's there to put my ass in check
And she don't play that mister famous trash
She was putting them diapers on my ass
She's seen every side of me
It don't matter how thuggish I'd try to be
NAW every week in the back yard
Now I'm in the big time, trying to act hard
What mattered when I looked a years back
Was mamma, bringing the chairs back
Supportin' every dream I got
You best believe, man, I dreamed a lot
Me and Rude Boy, I'm trying to tell ya,
Not a day goes by in life, we don't feel ya
We ain't taking nothing for granted
Mom's lasagna is so good I can't stand it!
Mrs. Hill always greets me with a hug
Now I see where Rudy got all his love
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
My love will never change (My love will never change)
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
(Mamma)
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
My love will never change (My love will never change)
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
(Mamma)
Everybody around me, they use me, and go for self
They want cash, equity, bank and wealth
Mom puts that on the shelf
All she cares about is my health
It all seems too good to be
As I'm battling life, mamma's backin' me
And she only really wants one thing of mine
Just a little time
Mother, in this world of scars
Money and snakes and labeled wars
Whatever else life puts me through
It's all #2
When it comes to you.
And your love is all I treasure
My real father just didn't measure
He was gone, without a thing to say!
I know he would have failed in comparison anyway.
You gave me 3 times the love
Enough for you, him, and the God above
Rude Boy, his daddy was strong,
Stayed holding on when the ease was gone.
Now a days, everything's all right
Millionaire rocking these microphones all night.
Makin' all of our dreams come true,
And we're full of love, mamma, thanks to you.!
I'm still sorry about the china cabinet
Wish I could bring it all back now, dammit!
Linda, Ron, Cathy and Ryo
We want you to know that we love you.
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
My love will never change (My love will never change)
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
(Mamma)
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
My love will never change (My love will never change)
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
(Mamma)
song performed by by Insane Clown Posse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golden-Tressed Adelaide
SING, I pray, a little song,
Mother dear!
Neither sad nor very long:
It is for a little maid,
Golden-tressed Adelaide!
Therefore let it suit a merry, merry ear,
Mother dear!
Let it be a merry strain,
Mother dear!
Shunning e’en the thought of pain:
For our gentle child will weep,
If the theme be dark and deep;
And we will not draw a single, single tear,
Mother dear!
Childhood should be all divine,
Mother dear!
And like an endless summer shine;
Gay as Edward’s shouts and cries,
Bright as Agnes’ azure eyes:
Therefore, bid thy song be merry:—dost thou hear,
Mother dear?
poem by Barry Cornwall
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What Pleasure Is This To You, O God?
what pleasure is this to you, o god,
in creating and destroying me again and again?
are you not tired of this boring game?
you scatter around me a wealth of pleasures
all of them but beyond my tiny reach-
all my life i waste in greed and tears
i acquire nothing but wrinkles and silvery hair-
why not teach me the real pleasures of living?
-sundaram chandrakalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Rain Along Shore
Wan white mists upon the sea,
East wind harping mournfully
All the sunken reefs along,
Wail and heart-break in its song,
But adown the placid bay
Fisher-folk keep holiday.
All the deeps beyond the bar
Call and murmur from afar,
'Plaining of a mighty woe
Where the great ships come and go,
But adown the harbor gray
Fisher-folk keep holiday.
When the cloudy heavens frown,
And the sweeping rain comes down,
Boats at anchorage must bide
In despite of time or tide;
Making merry as they may
Fisher-folk keep holiday.
Now is time for jest and song
All the idle shore along,
Now is time for wooing dear,
Maidens cannot choose but hear;
Daffing toil and care away
Fisher-folk keep holiday.
Oh, the fretted reefs may wail,
Every man has furled his sail!
Oh, the wind may moan in fear,
Every lad is with his dear!
Mirth and laughter have their way,
Fisher-folk keep holiday.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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US was always Real
Baby It's Real
The feelings and tears are real
The tingly feelings in my stomach when i hear your name
The moment when were alone and all we know it's just you and me
Baby It's Real
Long lasting phone calls
The laughs, Holding hands
Seconds, minutes, hours seem to feel like forever when i'm with you
Baby It's Real
NO doubts
NO jealousy
ALL TRUST
Baby It's Real
.....and when i saw you in the altar looking at HER,
knowing I walk away hearing those two words
Giving you one last look
All i know that
Baby US was always real
poem by Tatiana Carrillo
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A True Story
Little Ann and her mother were walking one day
Through London's wide city so fair,
And business obliged them to go by the way
That led them through Cavendish Square.
And as they pass'd by the great house of a Lord,
A beautiful chariot there came,
To take some most elegant ladies abroad,
Who straightway got into the same.
The ladies in feathers and jewels were seen,
The chariot was painted all o'er,
The footmen behind were in silver and green,
The horses were prancing before.
Little Ann by her mother walk'd silent and sad,
A tear trickled down from her eye,
Till her mother said, "Ann, I should be very glad
To know what it is makes you cry. "
"Mamma," said the child, "see that carriage so fair,
All cover'd with varnish and gold,
Those ladies are riding so charmingly there
While we have to walk in the cold.
"You say GOD is kind to the folks that are good,
But surely it cannot be true;
Or else I am certain, almost, that He would
Give such a fine carriage to you. "
"Look there, little girl," said her mother, "and see
What stands at that very coach door;
A poor ragged beggar, and listen how she
A halfpenny tries to implore.
"All pale is her face, and deep sunk is her eye,
And her hands look like skeleton's bones;
She has got a few rags, just about her to tie,
And her naked feet bleed on the stones. "
'Dear ladies,' she cries, and the tears trickle down,
'Relieve a poor beggar, I pray;
I've wander'd all hungry about this wide town,
And not ate a morsel to-day.
'My father and mother are long ago dead,
My brother sails over the sea,
And I've scarcely a rag, or a morsel of bread,
As plainly, I'm sure, you may see.
'A fever I caught, which was terrible bad,
But no nurse or physic had I;
An old dirty shed was the house that I had,
And only on straw could I lie.
'And now that I'm better, yet feeble and faint,
And famish'd, and naked, and cold,
I wander about with my grievous complaint,
And seldom get aught but a scold.
'Some will not attend to my pitiful call,
Some think me a vagabond cheat;
And scarcely a creature relieves me, of all
The thousands that traverse the street.
'Then ladies, dear ladies, your pity bestow:'
Just then a tall footman came round,
And asking the ladies which way they would go,
The chariot turn'd off with a bound.
"Ah! see, little girl," then her mother replied,
"How foolish those murmurs have been;
You have but to look on the contrary side,
To learn both your folly and sin.
"This poor little beggar is hungry and cold,
No mother awaits her return;
And while such an object as this you behold,
Your heart should with gratitude burn.
"Your house and its comforts, your food and your friends,
'Tis favour in GOD to confer,
Have you any claim to the bounty He sends,
Who makes you to differ from her?
"A coach, and a footman, and gaudy attire,
Give little true joy to the breast;
To be good is the thing you should chiefly desire,
And then leave to GOD all the rest. "
poem by Ann Taylor
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Holiday
Well the super models in those magazines
They've been to places that I've never dreamed
Well they look so nice out on some sandy beach
But for me I've always found it out of reach
Ooooooooo take me on a holiday
Ooooooooo I need a holiday
The hotel and life for me would be alright
We could always catch an early mornin' flight
As you treat yourself like in a movie scene
But its just another place I've never been
Ooooooooo take me on a holiday
Ooooooooo I need a holiday
I call you up on your telephone
And leave a message there since your not home
I've got to go I've got to get away
Please come and take me on a holiday
Ooooooooo take me on a holiday
Last nite I dreamed I was in Sante Fe
And then went on a flight to San Jose
Well I know that you don't really like to fly
But to see the world maybe you'd like to try
Ooooooooo take me on a holiday
Ooooooooo I need a holiday
Ooooooooo take me on a holiday
Need a holiday
Holiday
Holiday
Holiday
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Blind Slave Boy
Come back to me, mother! why linger away
From thy poor little blind boy, the long weary day!
I mark every footstep, I list to each tone,
And wonder my mother should leave me alone!
But there’s no one to joy or to sorrow with me;
For each hath of pleasure and trouble his share,
And none for the poor little blind boy will care.
My mother, come back to me! close to thy breast
Once more let thy poor little blind one be pressed;
Once more let me feel they warm breath on my cheek,
And hear thee in accents of tenderness speak!
O mother! I’ve no one to love me – no heart
Can bear like thine own in my sorrows a part;
No hand is so gentle, no voice is so kind,
O! none like a mother can cherish the blind!
Poor blind one! No mother thy wailing can hear,
No mother can hasten to banish thy fear;
And for one paltry dollar hath sold thee, poor child!
Ah! who can in language of mortals reveal
The anguish that none but a mother can feel,
When man is his vile lust of mammon hath trod
On her child, who is stricken and smitten of God!
Blind, helpless, forsaken, with strangers alone,
She hears in her anguish his piteous moan,
As he eagerly listens—but listens in vain,
To catch the loved tones of his mother again!
The curse of the broken in spirit shall fall
On the wretch who hath mingled this wormwood and gall,
And his gain like a mildew shall blight and destroy,
Who hath torn from his mother the little blind boy!
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Rain Tears
Rain, tears, rain, tears,
Melding in torrential fears:
Chill of cloud; saddened eye-
In either way, a latent cry.
Rain, tears, rain, tears,
Married under sceptic jeers:
‘They'll never last.' Methinks not true, for
Either way, forever blue.
Rain, tears, rain, tears,
Simple love with lacy cares,
Their intercourse will ne'er refrain
From rain and tears and tears and rain.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears
: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears
rs: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears
ears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears
: tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears
n: : tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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