In Praise Of Writing Letters
Blest be the Man! his Memory at least,
Who found the Art, thus to unfold his Breast,
And taught succeeding Times an easy way
Their secret Thoughts by Letters to convey;
To baffle Absence, and secure Delight,
Which, till that Time, was limited to Sight.
The parting Farewel spoke, the last Adieu,
The less'ning Distance past, then loss of View,
The Friend was gone, which some kind Moments gave,
And Absence separated, like the Grave.
The Wings of Love were tender too, till then
No Quill, thence pull'd, was shap'd into a Pen,
To send in Paper-sheets, from Town to Town,
Words smooth was they, and softer than his Down.
O'er such he reign'd, whom Neighborhood had join'd,
And hopt, from Bough to Bough, supported by the Wind.
When for a Wife the youthful Patriarch sent,
The Camels, Jewels, and the Steward went,
A wealthy Equipage, tho' grave and slow;
But not a Line, that might the Lover shew.
The Rings and Bracelets woo'd her Hands and Arms;
But had she known of melting Words, the Charms
That under secret Seals in Ambush lie,
To catch the Soul, when drawn into the Eye,
The Fair Assyrian had not took this Guide,
Nor her soft Heart in Chains of Pearl been ty'd.
Had these Conveyances been then in Date,
Joseph had known his wretched Father's State,
Before a Famine, which his Life pursues,
Had sent his other Sons, to tell the News.
Oh! might I live to see an Art arise,
As this to Thoughts, indulgent to the Eyes;
That the dark Pow'rs of distance cou'd subdue,
And make me See, as well as Talk to You;
That tedious Miles, nor Tracts of Air might prove
Bars to my Sight, and shadows to my Love!
Yet were it granted, such unbounded Things
Are wand'ring Wishes, born on Phancy's Wings,
They'd stretch themselves beyond this happy Case,
And ask an Art, to help us to Embrace.
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
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Cupid And Folly
CUPID, ere depriv'd of Sight,
Young and apt for all Delight,
Met with Folly on the way,
As Idle and as fond of Play.
In gay Sports the time they pass;
Now run, now wrestle on the Grass;
Their painted Wings then nimbly ply,
And ev'ry way for Mast'ry try:
'Till a Contest do's arise,
Who has won th' appointed Prize.
Gentle Love refers the Case
To the next, that comes in Place;
Trusting to his flatt'ring Wiles,
And softens the Dispute with Smiles.
But Folly, who no Temper knows,
Words pursues with hotter Blows:
'Till the eyes of Love were lost,
Which has such Pain to Mortals cost.
Venus hears his mournful Crys,
And repeats 'em, in the Skys,
To Jupiter in Council set,
With Peers for the Occasion met;
In her Arms the Boy she bears,
Bathing him in falling Tears;
And whilst his want of Eyes is shown,
Secures the Judges by her Own.
Folly to the Board must come,
And hear the Tryal and the Doom;
Which Cytherea loudly prays
May be as heavy as the Case:
Which, when All was justly weigh'd,
Cupid's Wings now useless made,
That a staff, his Feet must guide,
Which wou'd still be apt to slide;
This Decree at last was read,
That Love by Folly shou'd be lead.
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
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Papa do you know?
Do you know papa? '
How much I love you as Kid?
I am on earth but have no such lid,
How to express words but make strong bid,
All because of you papa,
Mom gave me all happiness of life,
Not looked beautiful but stayed as your wife,
Life not easy for her but an edge of knife,
She still lived on and you too papa,
You gave us all what we needed,
We too never asked but you always heeded,
Papa only your affection we always wanted,
Mom stayed cool and home she stayed,
You being gorgeous and even so gracious,
life was smooth and even so precious,
Never in our life we remained so conscious,
Life did not stop and ran continuous,
You were so kind and also generous,
Never we thought, you can be vicious,
Next to HIM and we thought you so pious,
Like beautiful flowers as pond’s have lotus,
You were real beacon and remained our guide,
we found no ills and you also never hide,
Always you did good and made us confide,
Shun all narrow thoughts still so wide
You were towering strength,
tried to measure length but not found,
Inferno in mind but mild at heart,
Never shown wildness but always smart,
Mom kind and easy still totally unaware,
Stayed even calm even warned to be aware,
It was her life thus preferred ignore,
Slept she well in night with big snore,
Never was hitch or problem of any kind,
nature also stayed cool and blew no wind,
Never rough weather and solution we find,
All his words as gospel and we always bind,
Altogether we lead and shared it lovely,
happy was life and felt it homely,
Not always you found earth so heavenly,
Credit to goes to none but attitude fatherly,
I prayed God to shower us with bless,
bestow on us father kind and no less,
Let all know better what the myth is called love,
who knows better than the water and dove,
I shall love you more and to cherish,
Even to my breath till I perish,
Life you may have hard or lavish,
I shall end word with papa and finish,
What could be life without your being?
No happy moments and no song to sing,
Not sincere prayer and church’s bell ring,
All will be slaves not without a king,
Papa should I tell you or do you know?
Light may be there but the lamp not glow,
heavy may be storm and wind also blow,
in your absence it will be hard to grow,
Nothing can dislodge and wash us away,
flood water can keep us only at bay,
Still we may stick and remain in fray,
Till you have sway and your final way
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A love for papa
Do you know papa?
How much I love you as Kid?
I am on earth but have no such lid,
How to express words but make strong bid,
All because of you papa,
Mom gave me all happiness in life,
Not looked so beautiful but stayed as your wife,
Life was not easy for her but an edge of knife,
She still lived on and you too know it papa,
You gave us all what we needed,
We too never asked but you always heeded,
Papa only your affection we always wanted,
Mom stayed cool and home she stayed,
You being gorgeous and even so gracious,
life was smooth and even so precious,
Never in our life we remained so conscious,
Life did not stop and ran as continuous,
You were so kind and also generous,
Never we thought, you can be vicious,
Next to HIM and we thought you so pious,
Like beautiful flowers as pond’s have lotus,
You were real beacon and remained our guide,
we found no ills and you also never hide,
Always you did good and made us confide,
Shun all narrow thoughts still so wide
You were towering strength,
tried to measure length but not found,
Inferno in mind but mild at heart,
Never shown wildness but always smart,
Mom kind and easy still totally unaware,
Stayed even calm even warned to be aware,
It was her life thus preferred ignore,
Slept she well in night with big snore,
Never was hitch or problem of any kind,
nature also stayed cool and blew no wind,
Never rough weather and solution we find,
All his words as gospel and we always bind,
Altogether we lead and shared it lovely,
happy was life and felt it homely,
Not always you found earth so heavenly,
Credit to goes to none but attitude fatherly,
I prayed God to shower us with bless,
bestow on us father kind and no less,
Let all know better what the myth is called love,
who knows better than the water and dove,
I shall love you more and to cherish,
Even to my breath till I perish,
Life you may have hard or lavish,
I shall end word with papa and finish,
What could be life without your being?
No happy moments and no song to sing,
Not sincere prayer and church’s bell ring,
All will be slaves not without a king,
Papa should I tell you or do you know?
Light may be there but the lamp not glow,
heavy may be storm and wind also blow,
in your absence it will be hard to grow,
Nothing can dislodge and wash us away,
flood water can keep us only at bay,
Still we may stick and remain in fray,
Till you have sway and your final way
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Executor
A Greedy Heir long waited to fulfill,
As his Executor, a Kinsman's Will;
And to himself his Age repeated o'er,
To his Infirmities still adding more;
And nicely kept th' Account of the expected Store:
When Death, at last, to either gave Release,
Making One's Pains, the Other's Longings cease:
Who to the Grave must decently convey,
Ere he Possession takes the kindred Clay,
Which in a Coach was plac'd, wherein he rides,
And so no Hearse, or following Train provides;
Rejecting Russel, who wou'd make the Charge
Of one dull tedious Day, so vastly Large.
When, at his Death, the humble Man declar'd,
He wished thus privately to be Interr'd.
And now, the Luggage moves in solemn State,
And what it wants in Number, gains in Weight.
The happy Heir can scarce contain his Joy,
Whilst sundry Musings do his Thoughts employ,
How he shalt act, now Every thing's his Own,
Where his Revenge, or Favour shall be shown;
Then recollecting, draws a counterfeited Groan.
The Avenues, and Gardens shall be chang'd,
Already he the Furniture has ranged.
To ransack secret Draw'rs his Phancy flies,
Nor can th' appearing Wealth his Mind suffice.
Thus he an Age runs o'er betwixt the Porch
Of his Friend's House, and the adjacent Church:
Whilst the slow Driver, who no reck'ning kept
Of what was left, indulging Nature, slept;
Till on a Bank, so high, the Wheel was borne
That in a Moment All must overturn:
Whilst the rich Heir now finds the giving Dead
Less weighty in his Gold, than in his Lead;
Which falling just on his contriving Breast,
Expell'd the Soul, leaving the corpse to rest
In the same Grave, intended for his Friend.
Then why shou'd We our Days in Wishes spend,
Which, e'er we see fulfill'd, are often at an End?
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
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The Orphan
Alone, alone! - no other face
Wears kindred smile, kindred line;
And yet they say my mother's eyes.
They say my father's brow, is mine;
And either had rejected to see
The other's likeness in my face,
But now it is a stranger's eye,
That finds some long forgotten trace.
I heard them name my father's death,
His home and tomb alike the wave;
And I was early taught to weep,
Beside my youthful mother's grave.
I wish I could recall one look, -
But only one familiar tone;
If I had aught of memory,
I should not feel so all alone.
My heart is gone beyond the grave,
In search of love I cannot find,
Till I could fancy soothing words
Are whisper'd by the ev'ning wind:
I gaze upon the watching stars,
So clear, so beautiful above,
Till I could dream they look on me
With something of an answering love.
My mother! does thy gentle eye
Look from those distant stars on me?
Or does the wind at ev'ning bear
A message to thy child from thee?
Dost thou pine for me, as I pine
Again a parent's love to share?
I often kneel beside thy grave,
And pray to be a sleeper there.
The vesper bell! - 'tis eventide,
I will not weep, but I will pray:
God of the fatherless, 'tis Thou
Alone canst be the orphan's stay!
Earth's meanest flower, heaven's mightiest star,
Are equal to their Maker's love.
And I can say, 'Thy will be done,'
With eyes that fix their hopes above.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Stanzas To A Lady, On Leaving England
'Tis done---and shivering in the gale
The bark unfurls her snowy sail;
And whistling o'er the bending mast,
Loud sings on high the fresh'ning blast;
And I must from this land be gone,
Because I cannot love but one.
But could I be what I have been,
And could I see what I have seen---
Could I repose upon the breast
Which once my warmest wishes blest---
I should not seek another zone,
Because I cannot love but one.
'Tis long since I beheld that eye
Which gave me bliss or misery;
And I have striven, but in vain,
Never to think of it again:
For though I fly from Albion,
I still can only love but one.
As some lone bird, without a mate,
My weary heart is desolate;
I look around, and cannot trace
One friendly smile or welcome face,
And ev'n in crowds am still alone,
Because I cannot love but one.
And I will cross the whitening foam,
And I will seek a foreign home;
Till I forget a false fair face,
I ne'er shall find a resting-place;
My own dark thoughts I cannot shun,
But ever love, and love but one.
The poorest, veriest wretch on earth
Still finds some hospitable hearth,
Where Friendship's or Love's softer glow
May smile in joy or soothe in woe;
But friend or leman I have none,'
Because I cannot love but one.
I go---but wheresoe'er I flee
There's not an eye will weep for me;
There's not a kind congenial heart,
Where I can claim the meanest part;
Nor thou, who hast my hopes undone,
Wilt sigh, although I love but one.
To think of every early scene,
Of what we are, and what we've been,
Would whelm some softer hearts with woe---
But mine, alas! has stood the blow;
Yet still beats on as it begun,
And never truly loves but one.
And who that dear lov'd one may be,
Is not for vulgar eyes to see;
And why that early love was cross'd,
Thou know'st the best, I feel the most;
But few that dwell beneath the sun
Have loved so long, and loved but one.
I've tried another's fetters too,
With charms perchance as fair to view;
And I would fain have loved as well,
But some unconquerable spell
Forbade my bleeding breast to own
A kindred care for aught but one.
'Twould soothe to take one lingering view,
And bless thee in my last adieu;
Yet wish I not those eyes to weep
For him that wanders o'er the deep;
His home, his hope, his youth are gone,
Yet still he loves, and loves but one.
You Know That You Are Very Deep In My Heart
You know that you are very deep in my heart,
how much I adore you
while in your absence I miss you for long moments
and love brings a kind of sorrow
but continually you sneak deeper into my heart.
You know that you are very deep in my heart,
my words, my deeds and feelings are no secret
but sometimes my words get few,
while in your absence I miss you for long moments
and you are in every thought
and our comfort with each other has been present from the beginning.
You know that you are very deep in my heart,
that our love goes much further than just sympathy
that nobody can fabricate such feelings,
while in your absence I miss you for long moments.
Everything that I am and want to be you do know
and sometimes you are in every word and sentence.
You know that you are very deep in my heart,
while in your absence I miss you for long moments.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Forty Years Old
The tidings of your melancholy loss,
And received at the other hand to crown your glory;
But ten times more of needful things like the muse of your love,
For i love you with my sincere heart.
Life is like the natural tune coming out from my radio,
And you are mine and i am yours;
For i will repay all that you've lost in this town,
So be confident with your thoughts towards me.
Bound to me only by the links of this love is your muse,
Because you are my daily joy as compared to a common man's life;
But the hiding places beyond the seas are with cheerfulness!
And i will bear your memory with me always.
It was like the love letters full of wondrous news,
And of the forty years old love songs to boast your muse;
But both of us will live to see a better day on this love.
Stong and hale,
Weak and pale,
And like a fairly tale;
But lay now the corner stone with a joyful heart!
And like a leisure hour out of sight,
But we will be pure as the naked heavens one day.
There is comfort in the strength of love,
And of the tidings of your melancholy loss;
But ten time more of needful things like the muse of your love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Daphnis And Chloe
Daphnis must from Chloe part:
Now is come the dismal Hour
That must all his Hopes devour,
All his Labour, all his Art.
Nature, her own Sexes foe,
Long had taught her to be coy:
But she neither knew t' enjoy,
Nor yet let her Lover go.
But, with this sad News surpriz'd,
Soon she let that Niceness fall;
And would gladly yield to all,
So it had his stay compriz'd.
Nature so her self does use
To lay by her wonted State,
Left the World should separate;
Sudden Parting closer glews.
He, well read in all the wayes
By which men their Siege maintain,
Knew not that the Fort to gain
Better 'twas the siege to raise.
But he came so full possest
With the Grief of Parting thence,
That he had not so much Sence
As to see he might be blest.
Till Love in her Language breath'd
Words she never spake before;
But then Legacies no more
To a dying Man bequeath'd.
For, Alas, the time was spent,
Now the latest minut's run
When poor Daphnis is undone,
Between Joy and Sorrow rent.
At that Why, that Stay my Dear,
His disorder'd Locks he tare;
And with rouling Eyes did glare,
And his cruel Fate forswear.
As the Soul of one scarce dead,
With the shrieks of Friends aghast,
Looks distracted back in hast,
And then streight again is fled.
So did wretched Daphnis look,
Frighting her he loved most.
At the last, this Lovers Ghost
Thus his Leave resolved took.
Are my Hell and Heaven Joyn'd
More to torture him that dies?
Could departure not suffice,
But that you must then grow kind?
Ah my Chloe how have I
Such a wretched minute found,
When thy Favours should me wound
More than all thy Cruelty?
So to the condemned Wight
The delicious Cup we fill;
And allow him all he will,
For his last and short Delight.
But I will not now begin
Such a Debt unto my Foe;
Nor to my Departure owe
What my Presence could not win.
Absence is too much alone:
Better 'tis to go in peace,
Than my Losses to increase
By a late Fruition.
Why should I enrich my Fate?
'Tis a Vanity to wear,
For my Executioner,
Jewels of so high a rate.
Rather I away will pine
In a manly stubborness
Than be fatted up express
For the Canibal to dine.
Whilst this grief does thee disarm,
All th' Enjoyment of our Love
But the ravishment would prove
Of a Body dead while warm.
And I parting should appear
Like the Gourmand Hebrew dead,
While he Quailes and Manna fed,
And does through the Desert err.
Or the Witch that midnight wakes
For the Fern, whose magick Weed
In one minute casts the Seed.
And invisible him makes.
Gentler times for Love are ment:
Who for parting pleasure strain
Gather Roses in the rain,
Wet themselves and spoil their Sent.
Farewel therefore all the fruit
Which I could from Love receive:
Joy will not with Sorrow weave,
Nor will I this Grief pollute.
Fate I come, as dark, as sad,
As thy Malice could desire;
Yet bring with me all the Fire
That Love in his Torches had.
At these words away he broke;
As who long has praying ly'n,
To his Heads-man makes the Sign,
And receives the parting stroke.
But hence Virgins all beware.
Last night he with Phlogis slept;
This night for Dorinda kept;
And but rid to take the Air.
Yet he does himself excuse;
Nor indeed without a Cause.
For, according to the Lawes,
Why did Chloe once refuse?
poem by Andrew Marvell
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Lady Mabel
Side by side with Lady Mabel
Sate I, with the sunshade down;
In the distance hummed the Babel
Of the many-footed town;
There we sate with looks unstable-
Now of tenderness, of frown.
``Must we part? or may I linger?
Wax the shadows, wanes the day.''
Then, with voice of sweetest singer
That hath all but died away,
``Go,'' she said; but tightened finger
Said articulately, ``Stay!''
Face to face with Lady Mabel,
With the gauzy curtains drawn,
Till a sense I am unable
To portray began to dawn;
Till the slant sun flung the gable
Far athwart the sleepy lawn.
``Now I go. Adieu, adieu, love!
This is weakness; sweet, be strong.
Comes the footfall of the dew, love!
Philomel's reminding song.''
``Go,'' she said; ``but I go too, love!
Go with you, my life along!''
Breast to breast with Lady Mabel,
Shrouded by the courteous night,
Baffling all the forms of fable
To describe our dreams aright;
And as pure as gifts of Abel,
In the Omnipresent sight.
poem by Alfred Austin
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The Obscure Night of the Soul
Upon an obscure night,
Fevered with love in love's anxiety,
(O hapless-happy plight!)
I went, none seeing me,
Forth from my house where all things quiet be.
By night, secure from sight,
And by the secret stair, disguisedly,
(O hapless-happy plight!)
By night, and privily,
Forth from my house where all things quiet be.
Blest night of wandering,
In secret, where by none might I be spied,
Nor I see anything;
Without a light or guide,
Save that which in my heart burnt in my side.
That light did lead me on,
More surely than the shining of noontide,
Where well I knew that one
Did for my coming bide;
Where he abode might none but he abide.
O night that didst lead thus,
O night more lovely than the dawn of light,
O night that broughtest us,
Lover to lover's sight,
Lover with loved in marriage of delight!
Upon my flowery breast,
Wholly for him, and save himself for none,
There did I give sweet rest
To my beloved one;
The fanning of the cedars breathed thereon.
When the first moving air
Blew from the tower, and waved his locks aside.
His hand, with gentle care,
Did wound me in the side,
And in my body all my senses died.
All things I then forgot,
My cheek on him who for my coming came;
All ceased, and I was not,
Leaving my cares and shame
Among the lilies, and forgetting them.
poem by Arthur Symons
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In Reference to her Children
I had eight birds hatched in one nest,
Four cocks there were, and hens the rest.
I nursed them up with pain and care,
Nor cost, nor labour did I spare,
Till at the last they felt their wing,
Mounted the trees, and learned to sing;
Chief of the brood then took his flight
To regions far and left me quite.
My mournful chirps I after send,
Till he return, or I do end:
Leave not thy nest, thy dam and sire,
Fly back and sing amidst this choir.
My second bird did take her flight,
And with her mate flew out of sight;
Southward they both their course did bend,
And seasons twain they there did spend,
Till after blown by southern gales,
They norward steered with filled sails.
A prettier bird was no where seen,
Along the beach among the treen.
I have a third of colour white,
On whom I placed no small delight;
Coupled with mate loving and true,
Hath also bid her dam adieu;
And where Aurora first appears,
She now hath perched to spend her years.
One to the academy flew
To chat among that learned crew;
Ambition moves still in his breast
That he might chant above the rest
Striving for more than to do well,
That nightingales he might excel.
My fifth, whose down is yet scarce gone,
Is 'mongst the shrubs and bushes flown,
And as his wings increase in strength,
On higher boughs he'll perch at length.
My other three still with me nest,
Until they're grown, then as the rest,
Or here or there they'll take their flight,
As is ordained, so shall they light.
If birds could weep, then would my tears
Let others know what are my fears
Lest this my brood some harm should catch,
And be surprised for want of watch,
Whilst pecking corn and void of care,
They fall un'wares in fowler's snare,
Or whilst on trees they sit and sing,
Some untoward boy at them do fling,
Or whilst allured with bell and glass,
The net be spread, and caught, alas.
Or lest by lime-twigs they be foiled,
Or by some greedy hawks be spoiled.
O would my young, ye saw my breast,
And knew what thoughts there sadly rest,
Great was my pain when I you fed,
Long did I keep you soft and warm,
And with my wings kept off all harm,
My cares are more and fears than ever,
My throbs such now as 'fore were never.
Alas, my birds, you wisdom want,
Of perils you are ignorant;
Oft times in grass, on trees, in flight,
Sore accidents on you may light.
O to your safety have an eye,
So happy may you live and die.
Meanwhile my days in tunes I'll spend,
Till my weak lays with me shall end.
In shady woods I'll sit and sing,
And things that past to mind I'll bring.
Once young and pleasant, as are you,
But former toys (no joys) adieu.
My age I will not once lament,
But sing, my time so near is spent.
And from the top bough take my flight
Into a country beyond sight,
Where old ones instantly grow young,
And there with seraphims set song;
No seasons cold, nor storms they see;
But spring lasts to eternity.
When each of you shall in your nest
Among your young ones take your rest,
In chirping language, oft them tell,
You had a dam that loved you well,
That did what could be done for young,
And nursed you up till you were strong,
And 'fore she once would let you fly,
She showed you joy and misery;
Taught what was good, and what was ill,
What would save life, and what would kill.
Thus gone, amongst you I may live,
And dead, yet speak, and counsel give:
Farewell, my birds, farewell adieu,
I happy am, if well with you.
poem by Anne Bradstreet
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In Reference to her Children, 23 June 1659
I had eight birds hatched in one nest,
Four cocks there were, and hens the rest.
I nursed them up with pain and care,
Nor cost, nor labour did I spare,
Till at the last they felt their wing,
Mounted the trees, and learned to sing;
Chief of the brood then took his flight
To regions far and left me quite.
My mournful chirps I after send,
Till he return, or I do end:
Leave not thy nest, thy dam and sire,
Fly back and sing amidst this choir.
My second bird did take her flight,
And with her mate flew out of sight;
Southward they both their course did bend,
And seasons twain they there did spend,
Till after blown by southern gales,
They norward steered with filled sails.
A prettier bird was no where seen,
Along the beach among the treen.
I have a third of colour white,
On whom I placed no small delight;
Coupled with mate loving and true,
Hath also bid her dam adieu;
And where Aurora first appears,
She now hath perched to spend her years.
One to the academy flew
To chat among that learned crew;
Ambition moves still in his breast
That he might chant above the rest
Striving for more than to do well,
That nightingales he might excel.
My fifth, whose down is yet scarce gone,
Is 'mongst the shrubs and bushes flown,
And as his wings increase in strength,
On higher boughs he'll perch at length.
My other three still with me nest,
Until they're grown, then as the rest,
Or here or there they'll take their flight, As is ordained, so shall they light.
If birds could weep, then would my tears
Let others know what are my fears
Lest this my brood some harm should catch,
And be surprised for want of watch,
Whilst pecking corn and void of care,
They fall un'wares in fowler's snare,
Or whilst on trees they sit and sing,
Some untoward boy at them do fling,
Or whilst allured with bell and glass,
The net be spread, and caught, alas.
Or lest by lime-twigs they be foiled,
Or by some greedy hawks be spoiled.
O would my young, ye saw my breast,
And knew what thoughts there sadly rest,
Great was my pain when I you fed,
Long did I keep you soft and warm,
And with my wings kept off all harm,
My cares are more and fears than ever,
My throbs such now as 'fore were never.
Alas, my birds, you wisdom want,
Of perils you are ignorant;
Oft times in grass, on trees, in flight,
Sore accidents on you may light.
O to your safety have an eye,
So happy may you live and die.
Meanwhile my days in tunes I'll spend,
Till my weak lays with me shall end.
In shady woods I'll sit and sing,
And things that past to mind I'll bring.
Once young and pleasant, as are you,
But former toys (no joys) adieu.
My age I will not once lament,
But sing, my time so near is spent.
And from the top bough take my flight
Into a country beyond sight,
Where old ones instantly grow young,
And there with seraphims set song;
No seasons cold, nor storms they see;
But spring lasts to eternity.
When each of you shall in your nest
Among your young ones take your rest,
In chirping language, oft them tell,
You had a dam that loved you well,
That did what could be done for young,
And nursed you up till you were strong,
And 'fore she once would let you fly,
She showed you joy and misery;
Taught what was good, and what was ill,
What would save life, and what would kill.
Thus gone, amongst you I may live,
And dead, yet speak, and counsel give:
Farewell, my birds, farewell adieu,
I happy am, if well with you.
poem by Anne Bradstreet
Submitted by anonym
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When there is nothing to talk about
We feel, yes we feel each other’s thoughts
And there will be nothing to talk about,
We understand what we mean with what
We see and how we feel it, we do not
Talk because words would be so empty,
In such situations as these when we love
And still love, words are unnecessary,
With one glance with a little gaze,
And blink and quiver of your eyelashes
And how I flash a sudden wink,
There is no need for words, we always
Understand, willing to cater to what
The other needs what to do this time
Till the next, our hands still feel exactly
Our wishes granted our dreams fulfilled
So what is there to talk about, my love? .
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Slow Down
Chorus:
I said slow down--
Slow down and live, my friend
Take time--take time to understand
The things--the things you hope to win
Before--before your journeys end
Slow down--slow down and try to do
The things--the things thats right for you
You know--you know
The soul--the soul
You save could be your own
Albert abernathy never spent a foolish dime
Rising at the crack of dawn and working overtime
You know, he never told me how much happiness he found
Yesterday we laid him in the finest grave in town.
Chorus:
I said slow down--
Slow down and live, my friend
Take time--take time to understand
The things--the things you hope to win
Before--before your journeys end.
Slow down--slow down and try to do
The things--the things thats right for you
You know--you know
The soul--the soul
You save could be your own.
Little sally tremble is a music city queen
You can see her picture now on every magazine
Sallys come a long way from the life she left behind
Shes had six gold records and been married seven times!
Chorus:
I said slow down--slow down and live my friend
Take time--take time to understand
The things--the things you hope to win
Before--before your journeys end
Slow down--slow down and try to do
The things--the things thats right for you
You know--you know
The soul--the soul
You save could be your own.
song performed by by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Circus
Little man with his eyes on fire
And his smile so bright.
In his hands are the toys you gave
To fill his heart with delight.
And in the ring stands a circus clown
Holding up a knife.
What you see and what you will hear
Will last you for the rest of your life.
And its sad, so sad,
There aint no easy way round.
And its sad, so sad,
All you friends gather round
cause the circus left town.
Little man with his heart so pure
And his love so fine.
Stick with me and Ill ride with you
Till the end of the line.
Hold my hand and Ill walk with you
Through the darkest night.
When I smile Ill be thinking of you
And every little thing will be all right.
Chorus
Chorus
The circus left town, left town.
The circus left town, left town.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hymn: Thou Hidden Love of God
Thou hidden love of God, whose height,
Whose depth unfathom'd no man knows,
I see from far thy beauteous light,
Inly I sigh for thy repose;
My heart is pain'd, nor can it be
At rest, till it finds rest in thee.
Thy secret voice invites me still,
The sweetness of thy yoke to prove:
And fain I would: but tho' my will
Seem fix'd, yet wide my passions rove;
Yet hindrances strew all the way;
I aim at thee, yet from thee stray.
'Tis mercy all, that thou hast brought
My mind to seek her peace in thee;
Yet while I seek, but find thee not,
No peace my wand'ring soul shall see;
O when shall all my wand'rings end,
And all my steps to thee-ward tend!
Is there a thing beneath the sun
That strives with thee my heart to share?
Ah! tear it thence, and reign alone,
The Lord of ev'ry motion there;
Then shall my heart from earth be free,
When it hath found repose in thee.
O hide this self from me, that I
No more, but Christ in me may live;
My vile affections crucify,
Nor let one darling lust survive;
In all things nothing may I see,
Nothing desire or seek but thee.
O Love, thy sov'reign aid impart,
To save me from low-thoughted care:
Chase this self-will thro' all my heart,
Thro' all its latent mazes there:
Make me thy duteous child, that I
Ceaseless may Abba, Father, cry!
Ah no! ne'er will I backward turn:
Thine wholly, thine alone I am!
Thrice happy he who views with scorn
Earth's toys, for thee his constant flame;
O help that I may never move
From the blest footsteps of thy love!
Each moment draw from earth away
My heart that lowly waits thy call:
Speak to my inmost soul, and say,
I am thy love, thy God, thy all!
To feel thy power, to hear thy voice,
To taste thy love, be all my choice.
poem by John Wesley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And I Dreamt Of You
i see thy love in the distance
breathless gasping for air, for in thy dreams you where
awakening to the bleakness in my room
as my eyes begin to blear reality sets and starts the fear
for do dreams come true or do i die alone
waiting like the petals of a wilting flower fall off
until there is non and the once beautiful flowers dies naked
with no one to clothe it
will i hold you in the grave or will the grave hold me?
the numbing dreams never end the swallow's wings still amonsgt
the idle wind
my colored wold turns to grayscale
recollecting the memories eyes covered hazel
contradiction of thy thoughts standing calm love not lost
searching till i find my princess whose passionate eyes
cut right through me
for what is life if love only exists in thy thoughts?
what is romance if it is all fiction?
nothing but a portrait left empty, a passing cloud of hurt
by to meet ym love in the flesh is to find my whole heart
your heart breaks though me your love is the key
longing for my hearts door
to what day till i see sunrays shine upon your face
i dream of you the way you look
the beating of love in your heart
your wolds are like the flowing of a spring, knowing thy love
waits for me until eternity's end
is this poetry or is this love's sickness
engulfing my every being
take the heart from you and the blood ceases from me
i see what you hear
breathe taking the closest thing to me and my savior
falling in love to a person i have never met
but knowing she has salvation's fragrance
by God's grace this love will be free and able to fly away above
the earth to a point of exhaustion
but your breath will keep me alive
words are pointless for this love is speechless
preparing fro the cur
song performed by by Underoath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Hid My Love
I hid my love when young till I
Couldn't bear the buzzing of a fly;
I hid my love to my despite
Till I could not bear to look at light;
I dare not gaze upon her face
But left her memory in each place;
Where'er I saw a wild flower lie
I kissed and bade my love goodbye.
I met her in the greenest dells,
Where dewdrops pearl the wood bluebells;
The lost breeze kissed her bright blue eye,
The bee kissed and went singing by,
A sunbeam found a passage there,
A gold chain round her neck so fair;
As secret as the wild bee's song
She lay there all the summer long.
I hid my love in field and town
Till e'en the breeze would knock me down;
The bees seemed singing ballads o'er,
The fly's bass turned to lion's roar;
And even the silence found a tongue,
To haunt me all the summer long;
The riddle nature could not prove
Was nothing else but secret love.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Slow Motion
Slow motion, slow motion baby
We want our love to last
Everything?s so right, why try to go so fast
It?s easy to lose sight
and then the moments passed
Go easy, go easy baby
You know there?s time for us
Even though this world seems to be speeding up
Maybe we can try to slow things down
Because we need to draw the line
Because we need to make the time
Because we need to sip the wine
Because the clock is running,
and it?s going so fast
The future?s coming but it?s soon the past
It?s here today and there?s no turning back
Go lightly, go lightly baby
In time we?ll find a way
It?s never over ?till it?s over
Why rush it through?
Never pausing to admire the view
Slow motion, well if we get tired
then we can rest awhile
If we?re gonna go, we?re gonna go in style
Isn?t that what life is all abour?
SUBMITTED BY STUDIO KAMI
song performed by by Supertramp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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