Adam Pos'd
Cou'd our First Father, at his toilsome Plough,
Thorns in his Path, and Labour on his Brow,
Cloath'd only in a rude, unpolish'd Skin,
Cou'd he a vain Fantastick Nymph have seen,
In all her Airs, in all her antick Graces,
Her various Fashions, and more various Faces;
How had it pos'd that Skill, which late assign'd
Just Appellations to Each several Kind!
A right Idea of the Sight to frame;
T'have guest from what New Element she came;
T'have hit the wav'ring Form, or giv'n this Thing a Name.
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
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Related quotes
I am ashamed—I hide
473
I am ashamed—I hide—
What right have I—to be a Bride—
So late a Dowerless Girl—
Nowhere to hide my dazzled Face—
No one to teach me that new Grace—
Nor introduce—my Soul—
Me to adorn—How—tell—
Trinket—to make Me beautiful—
Fabrics of Cashmere—
Never a Gown of Dun—more—
Raiment instead—of Pompadour—
For Me—My soul—to wear—
Fingers—to frame my Round Hair
Oval—as Feudal Ladies wore—
Far Fashions—Fair—
Skill to hold my Brow like an Earl—
Plead—like a Whippoorwill—
Prove—like a Pearl—
Then, for Character—
Fashion My Spirit quaint—white—
Quick—like a Liquor—
Gay—like Light—
Bring Me my best Pride—
No more ashamed—
No more to hide—
Meek—let it be—too proud—for Pride—
Baptized—this Day—a Bride—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Poetry is Too Shrewd
Poetry is too shrewd,
She in guise herself keeps hiding,
From my too watchful eyes;
When I plough the farm of others,
She dives into the ocean of my belly,
And swims like a fishing monster.
When I return home after toilsome labour,
She sits on my hanging loathsome arms,
And when in the sterile fruitless land,
My eyes meet indifference,
And they remain bewilderingly forlorn,
She assumes the soothing form of a damsel,
And strolls into the world of my dreams,
When ferocious enemies search me again,
Allege me of stealing the gold of poetry,
At that moment she resides in my heart,
Wearing the costume of fear.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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As Kingfishers Catch Fire
As king fishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves -- goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying What I do is me: for that I came.
I say more: the just man justices;
Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is --
Christ. For Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men's faces.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Sonnet VI
What art thou, Life? The shadow of a dream:
The past and future dwell in thought alone;
The present, ere we note its flight, is gone;
And all ideal, vain, fantastick, seem.
Whence is thy source! And whither dost thou tend!
So short thy period, and thy form so frail;
Poor prisoner! pent in Death's surrounding vale,
Born but to breathe, to suffer, and to end.
Why, Shadow, bring'st thou on thy raven wing
Dark trains of grief, and visions of the night,
Rather than graces, robed in purple light,
Elysian flowers, and love's unclouded spring;
Since sad, or gay, whatever be thy theme,
Death surely ends at once the dreamer and the dream!
poem by Brooke Boothby
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Negative Girl
Shes lost - shes late
Shes zooming on a couch somewhere
Or high - or home
Im not supposed to call her there
I wait - I smoke
I stare into my coke
Its happening again
I tell myself that its over and done, amen
Her skin - like milk
Its like shes never seen the sun
Some hearts to crunch
Is more like her idea of fun
I know - shes ill
Im cruising for a spill
Im hanging just the same
I need to be in the heat
Of her cold white flame
Chorus:
Another negative girl
At the edge of the frame
Deliciously toxic
The original classic thing - more of the same
Shes in the zone
Crying on the phone
I need you here
Im on the street again
Staggering out into the burn of the brain dead dawn
To arrive in time to find her gone
Shes on the train
To somewhere up by fordham road
Her reptile brain
Locked down and ready in combat mode
Some cash - a key
This guy she has to see
A doctor friend uptown
And maybe she gets to me when she comes back down
Chorus:
Another negative girl
Spinning out of the frame
Exquisitely limpid
The original classic thing - more of the same
A goof - a buzz
If that is what it was
Then how do you explain
The way she looks when shes
Dragging me out to dance with her
In the summer rain
Chorus:
Another negative girl
At the edge of the frame
Exhausting and luscious
The original classic thing - more of the same
song performed by by Steely Dan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hello My Gatiting
hello my gatiting
please solve the problem below
if you can solve it
email me the answer
then i will tell you if
we are still friends.
deal.
Solve each of the following inequalities
and express the solution in interval notation.
(x - 6) (x + 2) (- 4 - x) > 0
x2 + x + 2 < 7 - 3x
Find the number by using exponential form.
a) log232
b) ln e5
The following example represents a correspondence f from A to B. Determine whether the associated statements are true or false.
i) One element of A corresponds to two elements of B.
ii) Two elements of A correspond to the same element of B.
iii) Some element of A has no corresponding element in B.
iv) Some element of B has no element of A corresponding to it.
v) Is f a function? If not, then explain why.
you have only an hour to submit
your answer.
after two hours,
our friendship ends.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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New Love, New Life
HEART! my heart! what means this feeling?
What oppresseth thee so sore?
What strange life is o'er me stealing!
I acknowledge thee no more.
Fled is all that gave thee gladness,
Fled the cause of all thy sadness,
Fled thy peace, thine industry-
Ah, why suffer it to be?
Say, do beauty's graces youthful,
Does this form so fair and bright,
Does this gaze, so kind, so truthful,
Chain thee with unceasing might?
Would I tear me from her boldly,
Courage take, and fly her coldly,
Back to her. I'm forthwith led
By the path I seek to tread.
By a thread I ne'er can sever,
For 'tis 'twined with magic skill,
Doth the cruel maid for ever
Hold me fast against my will.
While those magic chains confine me,
To her will I must resign me.
Ah, the change in truth is great!
Love! kind love! release me straight!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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The Story of Phœbus and Daphne, Applied
Thyrsis, a youth of the inspired train,
Fair Sacharissa lov'd, but lov'd in vain;
Like Phœbus sung the no less amorous boy;
Like Daphne she, as lovely, and as coy;
With numbers he the flying nymph pursues,
With numbers such as Phœbus' self might use;
Such is the chase when Love and Fancy leads,
O'er craggy mountains, and through flow'ry meads;
Invok'd to testify the lover's care,
Or form some image of his cruel fair:
Urg'd with his fury, like a wounded deer,
O'er these he fled; and now approaching near,
Had reach'd the nymph with his harmonious lay,
Whom all his charms could not incline to stay.
Yet what he sung in his immortal strain,
Though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain;
All but the nymph that should redress his wrong,
Attend his passion, and approve his song.
Like Phœbus thus, acquiring unsought praise,
He catch'd at love, and fill'd his arm with bays.
poem by Edmund Waller
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You With Your Airs And Graces
You with your airs and graces you do feel so proud
And you like to be seen to stand out in the crowd
And you even feel that others should bow to you
You've got a swollen ego to give you your due.
You tell everybody who wishes for to hear
of your daughter the uni professor and your son the engineer
But your husband a black sheep or so 'twould appear
Since he is a flawed person who enjoys his beer.
You with your airs and graces you do like to brag
You are known in the Town as a leading windbag
Your ego is swimming in your self conceit
Though one or two like you live on every street.
With everyone who cares to listen you like to impress
Them with your grand stories of your childrens success
But your husband you never once mention his name
He gets drunk off and on that seems human but in that you feel shame.
poem by Francis Duggan
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VERSES Occasioned by a Young Lady's asking the Author, What was a Cure for Love?
From me, my Dear, O seek not to receive
What e'en deep-read Experience cannot give.
We may, indeed, from the Physician's skill
Some Med'cine find to cure the body's ill.
But who e'er found the physic for the soul,
Or made th' affections bend to his controul?
When thro' the blaze of passion objects show
How dark 's the shade! how bright the colours glow!
All the rous'd soul with transport's overcome,
And the mind's surly Monitor is dumb.
In vain the sages turn their volumes o'er,
And on the musty page incessant pore,
Still mighty Love triumphant rules the heart,
Baffles their labour, and eludes their art.
Say what is science, what is reason's force
To stop the passions wild ungovern'd course?
Reason, 'tis true, may point the rocky shore,
And shew the danger, but can serve no more,
From wave to wave the wretched wreck is tost,
And reason 's in th' impetuous torrent lost.
In vain we strive, when urg'd by cold neglect,
By various means our freedom to effect,
Tho' like the bee from sweet to sweet we rove,
And search for ease in the vast sound of Love,
Tho' in each Nymph we meet a kind return,
Still in the firstfond hopeless flame we burn,
That dear idea still our thoughts employs,
And blest variety itself e'en cloys.
So exiles banish'd from their native home
Are met with pity wheresoe'er they come,
Yet still their native soil employs their care,
And death were ease to lay their ashes there.
poem by Thomas Godfrey
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Upon the Fish in The Water
The water is the fish's element;
Take her from thence, none can her death prevent;
And some have said, who have transgressors been,
As good not be, as to be kept from sin.
2.
The water is the fish's element:
Leave her but there, and she is well content.
So's he, who in the path of life doth plod,
Take all, says he, let me but have my God.
3.
The water is the fish's element,
Her sportings there to her are excellent;
So is God's service unto holy men,
They are not in their element till then.
poem by John Bunyan
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Don’t seek to help you.
If the God redeemed to you
The thing you had had
He would need to redeem it
To the one you got it from.
If the God assigned to you
The thing you had desired
He would need to assign it
To the one who would desire it.
What returns to you would return.
What comes to you would then go.
Don’t ask the God to redeem
Or assign anything in prayer.
26.02.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Sleigh-Bells
'Tis merry to hear, at evening time,
By the blazing hearth the sleigh-bells chime;
To know the bounding steeds bring near
The loved one to our bosoms dear.
Ah, lightly we spring the fire to raise,
Till the rafters glow with the ruddy blaze;
Those merry sleigh-bells, our hearts keep time
Responsive to their fairy chime.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, o'er vale and hill,
Their welcome notes are trembling still.
'Tis he, and blithely the gay bells sound,
As his sleigh glides over the frozen ground;
Hark! He has pass'd the dark pine wood,
He crosses now the ice-bound flood,
And hails the light at the open door
That tells his toilsome journey's o'er.
The merry sleigh-bells! My fond heart swells
And trobs to hear the welcome bells;
Ding-dong, ding-dong, o'er ice and snow,
A voice of gladness, on they go.
Our hut is small, and rude our cheer,
But love has spread the banquet here;
And childhood springs to be caress'd
By our beloved and welcome guest.
With a smiling brow his tale he tells,
The urchins ring the merry sleigh-bells;
The merry sleigh-bells, with shout and song
They drag the noisy string along;
Ding-dong, ding-dong, the father's come
The gay bells ring his welcome home.
From the cedar swamp the gaunt wolves howl,
From the oak loud whoops the felon owl;
The snow-storm sweeps in thunder past,
The forest creaks beneath the blast;
No more I list, with boding fear,
The sleigh-bells distant chime to hear.
The merry sleigh-bells with soothing power
Shed gladness on the evening hour.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, what rapture swells
The music of those joyous bells!
poem by Susanna Strickland Moodie
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Spicewood
The spicewood burns along the gray, spent sky,
In moist unchimneyed places, in a wind,
That whips it all before, and all behind,
Into one thick, rude flame, now low, now high,
It is the first, the homeliest thing of all--
At sight of it, that lad that by it fares,
Whistles afresh his foolish, town-caught airs--
A thing so honey-colored, and so tall!
It is as though the young Year, ere he pass,
To the white riot of the cherry tree,
Would fain accustom us, or here, or there,
To his new sudden ways with bough and grass,
So starts with what is humble, plain to see,
And all familiar as a cup, a chair.
poem by Lizette Woodworth Reese
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Sonnet LXVIII: A Dark Day
The gloom that breathes upon me with these airs
Is like the drops which strike the traveller's brow
Who knows not, darkling, if they bring him now
Fresh storm, or be old rain the covert bears.
Ah! bodes this hour some harvest of new tares,
Or hath but memory of the day whose plough
Sowed hunger once,—the night at length when thou,
O prayer found vain, didst fall from out my prayers?
How prickly were the growths which yet how smooth,
Along the hedgerows of this journey shed,
Lie by Time's grace till night and sleep may soothe!
Even as the thistledown from pathsides dead
Gleaned by a girl in autumns of her youth,
Which one new year makes soft her marriage-bed.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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The Gloom that Breathes Upon Me
The gloom that breathes upon me with these airs
Is like the drops which stike the traveller's brow
Who knows not, darkling, if they bring him now
Fresh storm, or be old rain the covert bears.
Ah! bodes this hour some harvest of new tares,
Or hath but memory of the day whose plough
Sowed hunger once, -- the night at length when thou,
O prayer found vain, didst fall from out my prayers?
How prickly were the growths which yet how smooth,
Along the hedgerows of this journey shed,
Lie by Time's grace till night and sleep may soothe!
Even as the thisteldown from pathsides dead
Gleaned by a girl in autumns of her youth,
Which one new year makes soft her marriage-bed.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The gloom that breathes upon me with these airs
The gloom that breathes upon me with these airs
Is like the drops which stike the traveller's brow
Who knows not, darkling, if they bring him now
Fresh storm, or be old rain the covert bears.
Ah! bodes this hour some harvest of new tares,
Or hath but memory of the day whose plough
Sowed hunger once, -- the night at length when thou,
O prayer found vain, didst fall from out my prayers?
How prickly were the growths which yet how smooth,
Along the hedgerows of this journey shed,
Lie by Time's grace till night and sleep may soothe!
Even as the thisteldown from pathsides dead
Gleaned by a girl in autumns of her youth,
Which one new year makes soft her marriage-bed.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crown Of Thorns
You ever heard the story
of Mr. Faded Glory?
Say he who rides a pony must someday fall
I been talkin' to my alter
Says life is what you make it
And if you make it death well then rest
your soul away
Away away yeah
It's a broken kind of feeling
She'd have to tie me to the ceiling
A bad moon's a comin'
better say your prayers
I wanna tell you that I love you
But does it really matter?
I just can't stand to see you dragging down.
Again, again, again.
So I'm singing
This is my kinda love
It's the kind that moves on
It's the kind that leaves you alone
This is my kinda love
It's the kind that moves on
It's the kind and leaves me alone
I used to treat you like a lady
Now you're a substitute teacher
This bottle's not a pretty, not a pretty sight
I owe the man some money
so I'm turnin over honey
Oh Mr. Faded Glory is once again doin' time.
This is my kinda love
It's the kind that moves on
It's the kind that leaves me alone
This is my kinda love
It's a crown of thorns
It's the kind that
It's the kind that leaves me alone
Like a crown of thorns
So know who you know.
So don't burn your bridges cause
someday, yeah
Start singing
This is my kinda love
It's the kind that moves on
It's the kind that leaves me alone
This is my kinda love
It's a crown of thorns
It's the kind that leaves me alone
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For example, in painting the form arises from abstract elements of line and color, while in cinema the material concreteness of the image within the frame presents - as an element - the greatest difficulty in manipulation.
quote by Sergei Eisenstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Choosing To Walk On The Right Path
Choosing to walk on the right path,
Is going to have its obstacles.
Temptations will be there to tease,
With attempts to weaken.
And faces familiar...
Will appear to critique.
Choosing to walk on the right path,
Isn't an easy decision one makes.
It takes one to break away,
From barriers attached...
That are difficult to unlatch.
Yet...
Can be done to escape those traps.
Choosing to walk on the right path,
Is going to have its obstacles.
And some days will seem impossible.
But that path chosen,
By the one who knows it is correct...
Will never bring to one regret.
If a faith kept is strong.
And an accepting felt within belongs.
Choosing to walk on the right path,
Will prove there to be nothing to fear.
Doubts disappear!
And those things wrong that prick like thorns,
From this right path...
Eventually,
Will be gone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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