Finality
A HEAVY and desolate sense of life
Is all the Past makes mine—and still
A cold contempt of Fortune’s strife,
Despite the dread
Of want of bread,
’Numbs, clogs like ice, my weary will.
How little is there on the earth
That I at length can venerate?
I see at most one world-wide dearth
Of wisdom free,
True piety,
Of noble love, of honest hate.
With little hope of higher good
For Man, for me, of earthly bliss,
Yet I withstand as I’ve withstood,
The evil plan
Man teaches man
Of valuing all things amiss.
There’s nothing under the godlike sun
Worth loving to be bought or sold!—
The only wealth by labour won
Besides the food
Supplying blood,
Is human excellence—not gold!
All other things designed or done
Their only real value miss,
But in so far as this—each one
And all sustain,
Adorn, explain,
Secure and enter into this.
Beauty itself were nothing—no,
But for Love’s golden heart and eye;
Nay Truth were dead but for the glow
Around its shrine
Of minds divine,
Of martyr minds that may not die.
Why pile we stone on stone to raise
Jail, fane, or public hall—why plan
Fortress or tower for future days,
Yet leave unbuilt
To wrong or guilt
That nobler pile—the Mind of Man?
With finer wool the land to dower,
Behold how strongly we are moved—
Even while a Nation’s thinking power
Unvalued, yet
Unnamed, we let
All bestial grow, being unimprov’d!
Can then the seed in God’s right hand
Of Happiness, when shed below,
Find fitting nurture in a land
Of wilding soil
And selfish toil?
I tell ye Time shall answer, No!
I tell ye that all public good,
All individual worth and peace,
All youthful nobleness of mood,
Like rose-leaves thin
Must wither in
The sordid breath of days like these.
O for a prophet’s tongue to teach
The truths I cannot else reveal,
O for a conqueror’s power to reach
The holy aim
That doth inflame
And nerve me with a martyr’s zeal!
’Tis vain—the sacred wish is vain!
Men but renew the strifes of old:
But value with a greed insane
All devilish skill,
All splendid ill
That fetters Truth with chains of gold!
poem by Charles Harpur
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Cui Bono
1.
Why should we care for storms that rave and rend,
Safe at our household hearth?
Unknowing whence we came, or where we wend,
Why should we ache and toil, and waste and spend,
Treading from no beginning to no end,
An uncrowned martyr's path?
2.
Is it worth while to suffer, when we might,
Like happier men, be blest
With that dull blindness that desires no light,
That peaceful soul that feels no need to fight,
Nor thirsts for liberty, and truth, and right,
But lives its life at rest?
3.
Is it worth while to work, and strive, and learn —
To sow where none may reap?
Is it worth while to rage, and fret, and yearn
For nameless treasure that we cannot earn?
Is it worth while in fever- fires to burn,
While wise men eat and sleep?
4.
Is it worth while to care for praise or blame,
This little time we live,
When purest deeds are oftenest put to shame?
To pant for noble strife and lofty fame,
When gold seems better than a stainless name,
Or all the world can give?
5.
Is it worth while for friendship's gift to sue,
For friendship's joys to crave?
When sordid tests, that bring us ruth and rue,
And sorrowful years, alone discern the clue
That tells us what is false and what is true,
And what we lose or save?
6.
To open wide our sanctuary door
Some welcome guest to greet,
To find, perchance, when we have shown our store,
The sacred places rudely trampled o'er,
Bereaved, profaned, and soiled for evermore
With tread of vulgar feet?
7.
Is it worth while to love — though love find grace
In our belovèd's sight?
To bear a restless heart from place to place,
Hungry for sight of one transcendent face,
That shines our central sun in azure space,
Or leaves our world in night:
8.
And, after all, to gain no more than this
At such a life- long cost —
A taste, a glimpse, the memory of a kiss,
A speechless sense of what diviner bliss,
That might have been, we have contrived to miss —
To know what love has lost?
9.
Is it worth while — O sadder fate! — to heed
The solemn chime that knells
The death hour of an immemorial creed —
A staff of strength become a broken reed —
And never friendlier help in time of need,
Nor surer guide, foretells?
10.
To heed the spirit- voice that bids us take
A strange new road alone;
From gentle slumber and sweet dreams to wake,
And hear the mighty billows boom and break —
The thunder of immortal seas that shake
The earth's foundation- stone?
11.
Is it worth while, so far away as we,
To long, in hope and dread,
For the great unborn Age that is to be —
To pine for light that we shall never see —
To care what course man's life and destiny
May take when we are dead?
12.
Is it worth while to toil in doubt and fear,
Through thorny ways like these,
When they who turn blind eye and heedless ear
To change and portent, and who see nor hear
The pregnant storm that gathers far and near,
Dwell all their days at ease?
13.
To leave the Good whereof we are possest,
To search, in gloom and grief,
Through pathless trouble, for some unknown Best,
And see no goal, and find no place of rest —
Is it worth while, on such a fruitless quest
To waste a life so brief?
14.
Is it worth while to wear out heart and brain?
Ah me, what must be must!
The maddening Mystery cannot be made plain,
And they who seek to solve it seek in vain,
Yet can but seek, in sleepless hope and pain,
Till heart and brain are dust.
poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Many Need The Lord
There're so many who need The Lord, a truth by some that is ignored,
Even by those who claim to be, bought through the Blood of Calvary,
By God, for a purpose and a plan; to reach for The Savior every man,
From every tribe, tongue and nation, with the truth of God's Salvation.
We've been saved for a mission, to be part of The Great Commission,
Commissioned by Jesus, Himself, to be his witness, not live in stealth.
To live with God's purpose in mind, as we leave earthly desires behind,
As we live in the world for Christ, willing to be for Him a living sacrifice.
Each and every believer knows, this Age of Grace will come to a close,
The time is surely drawing near, when Jesus Christ says 'come up here',
When that trumpet sounds for us, everyone, who truly belong to Jesus,
Taking us from this earth we roam, to be with our Lord in our real home.
This Blessed Hope, we must share, as there may be little time to spare,
This, with many a family and friend, those who aren't ready for the end,
We need urgency and God's zeal, as the time and God's Truth are real,
That only true believers, in Jesus Christ, have that Hope of Eternal Life.
We must ask God to open each heart, so God's Holy Spirit can impart,
God's Truth as The Spirit works in us, believers who know Christ Jesus,
This, as we follow The Spirit's lead, speaking to those, who are in need,
Of the saving Hope in Jesus Christ, that they too, can enter Eternal Life.
Then and Now
"Build me a nation," said the Lord.
The distant nations heard the word,
Build me a nation true and strong,
Bar out the old world's hate and wrong;
For men had traced with blood and tears
The trail of weary wasting years,
And torn and bleeding martyrs trod
Through fire and torture up to God.
While in the hollow of his hand
God hid the secret of our land,
Men warred against their fiercest foes,
And kingdoms fell and empires rose,
Till, weary of the old world strife,
Men sought for broader, freer life,
And plunged into the ocean's foam
To find another, better home.
And, like a vision fair and bright
The new world broke upon their sight.
Men grasped the prize, grew proud and strong,
And cursed the land with crime and wrong.
The Indian stood despoiled of lands,
The Negro bound with servile bands,
Oppressed through weary years of toil,
His blood and tears bedewed the soil.
Then God arose in dreadful wrath,
And judgment streamed around his path;
His hand the captive's fetters broke,
His lightnings shattered every yoke.
As Israel through the Red sea trod,
Led by the mighty hand of God,
They passed to freedom through a flood,
Whose every wave and surge was blood.
And slavery, with its crime and shame,
Went down in wrath and blood and flame
The land was billowed-o'er with graves
Where men had lived and died as slaves.
Four and thirty years -- what change since
then!
Beings once chattles now are men;
Over the gloom of slavery's night,
Has flashed the dawn of freedom's light.
To-day no mother with anguish wild
Kneels and implores that her darling child
Shall not be torn from her bleeding heart,
With its quivering tendrils rent apart.
The father may soothe his child to sleep,
And watch his slumbers calm and deep.
No tyrant's tread will disturb his rest
Where freedom dwells as a welcome guest.
His walls may be bare of pictured grace,
His fireside the lowliest place;
But the wife and children sheltered there
Are his to defend and guard with care.
Where haughty tyrants once bore rule
Are ballot-box and public school.
The old slave-pen of former days
Gives place to fanes of prayer and praise.
To-night we would bring our meed of praise
To noble friends of darker days;
The men and women crowned with light,
The true and tried in our gloomy night.
To Lundy, whose heart was early stirred
To speak for freedom an earnest word;
To Garrison, valiant, true and strong,
Whose face was as flint against our wrong.
And Phillips, the peerless, grand and brave,
A tower of strength to the outcast slave.
Earth has no marble too pure and white
To enrol his name in golden light.
Our Douglass, too, with his massive brain,
Who plead our cause with his broken chain,
And helped to hurl from his bloody seat
The curse that writhed and died at his feet.
And Governor Andrew, who, looking back,
Saw none he despised, though poor and black;
And Harriet Beecher, whose glowing pen
Corroded the chains of fettered men.
To-night with greenest laurels we'll crown
North Elba's grave where sleeps John Brown,
Who made the gallows an altar high,
And showed how a brave old man could die.
And Lincoln, our martyred President,
Who returned to his God with chains he had rent.*
And Sumner, amid death's icy chill,
Leaving to Hoar his Civil Rights Bill.
And let us remember old underground,
With all her passengers northward bound,
The train that ran till it ceased to pay,
With all her dividends given away.
Nor let it be said that we have forgot
The women who stood with Lucretia Mott;
Nor her who to the world was known
By the simple name of Lucy stone.
A tribute unto a host of others
Who knew that men though black were brothers,
Who battled against our nation's sin,
Whose graves are thick whose ranks are thin.
Oh, people chastened in the fire,
To nobler, grander things aspire;
In the new era of your life,
Bring love for hate, and peace for strife;
Upon your hearts this vow record
That ye will build unto the Lord
A nobler future, true and grand,
To strengthen, crown and bless the land.
A higher freedom ye may gain
Than that which comes from a riven chain;
Freedom your native land to bless
With peace, and love and righteousness,
As dreams that are past, a tale all told,
Are the days when men were bought and sold;
Now God be praised from sea to sea,
Our flag floats o'er a country free.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Opening Hymn
[Sung at the Opening of the Queensland National Society's Exhibition,
1876.]
While nations joining gifts
Their fanes of Art adorn,
Hear, Lord, the lowly voice that lifts
The song of the youngest-born.
The gifts of the youngest-born,
We spread them forth to Thee,—
What toil hath wrought, what skill hath taught,
What Freedom hath brought the free.
No storied name we vaunt,
Nor martial trophies raise;
No battle-riven banners flaunt
The triumphs of other days.
But triumphs of peaceful days
Adorn our jubilee:
Here toil and skill Thine ends fulfil,
With hands that from blood are free.
We pile the arms of Peace,
Her trophies manifold,
Her ploughshare swords, her shields of fleece,
Her armour of bloodless gold.
Our treasures of fleece and gold
We consecrate to Thee,
With choicest yield of fruitful field,
And spoil from the forest-tree.
We bless Thee for our land,
Broad streams and gladdening rills,
For flocks that roam on ev'ry hand,
For herds on a thousand hills.
From all its thousand hills
Our land doth call to Thee,
Still do Thou bless with happiness
This youngest of the free.
poem by James Brunton Stephens
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The Politician
Carven in leathern mask or brazen face,
Were I time's sculptor, I would set this man.
Retreating from the truth, his hawk-eyes scan
The platforms of all public thought for place.
There wriggling with insinuating grace,
He takes poor hope and effort by the hand,
And flatters with half-truths and accents bland,
Till even zeal and earnest love grow base.
Knowing no right, save power's grim right-of-way;
No nobleness, save life's ignoble praise;
No future, save this sordid day to day;
He is the curse of these material days:
Juggling with mighty wrongs and mightier lies,
This worshipper of Dagon and his flies!
poem by William Wilfred Campbell
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Failure
THE BOY went out from the ranges grim,
And the breath of the mountains went with him;
With a song in his heart and a smile on his face,
And a light in his eyes for a foremost place:
And the good green earth, and the salt sea spray,
And the soft blue skies, they were his that day;
And, like Eden, ringed with a golden fire—
Afar rose the Land of His Heart’s Desire.
The boy went down to the city’s strife,
And his face was lost in the surge of life;
But a Power that he did not understand
Had nerved his brain and his fighting hand.
And he strove and failed, and he rose and won—
And he failed again ere the fight was done;
But he battled on when the days were dire
To win to the Land of His Heart’s Desire.
And there, in the heart of the stress and din,
’Mid want and labour and wealth and sin,
The strong man struggled with shining eyes,
And forced a passage, and grasped the prize.
And he cried to the Power who had lent the fire:
“Lo! Fame is the Land of My Heart’s Desire!
Give the cup to me with a beaded brim.”
And the Power that he knew not gave it him.
But the air is keen on the Cliffs of Fame,
And the shafts that fly have a deadly aim!
With a foothold scarce, and a sleepless dread
For the gulfs below and the heights o’erhead,
He cried to the Power who had steeled his hand:
“I am outcast yet from my Fairyland!
For Fame is a land where no strength may tire,
But Love is the Land of My Heart’s Desire!”
Then there came to the man all his dream of Love,
With the brow of snow and the eyes of a dove,
With the glint of the sun on her wavy hair,
And her soul as pure as her face was fair.
Like a living lily to him she came,
Till his eyes were wet and his soul was flame,
And she called to him, with an outstretched hand,
And they entered into the Promised Land.
But there came a day when he asked his soul,
“Is this the land, and is this the goal?”
In his heart there lay what his lips denied—
The pang of a hunger unsatisfied.
“For Fame,” he said, “and for Love I wrought;
They are not the things that I should have sought:
’Tis to boundless power that my dreams aspire—
And Wealth is the Land of My Heart’s Desire!”
Then the Power that he did not understand
Gave him ships and houses and gold and land,
And the man’s power grew with each passing year;
But his thoughts were vexed with a sleepless fear,
And his hair grew gray with the iron strain
Of the dread of loss and the lust of gain,
And he bowed his head on his hands and said.
“All things are mine, but my heart is dead!”
And he thought of the boy from the ranges grim
With the breath of the mountains over him,
With a song in his heart and a smile on his face,
And a light in his eyes for a foremost place,
And the good green earth and the salt sea spray,
And the soft blue skies that were his that day,
When, like Eden, ringed with a golden fire,
Afar rose the Land of His Heart’s Desire.
Then clear on his startled ear there fell
A voice like the sound of a silver bell:
“To each is the work that he best can do,
But you turned from the work when it called to you.
And you sought instead for the vulgar praise,
For the lips of love, and for prosperous days.
And with all that the world can give you here,
You have lost the thing that you hold most dear.
For who hears the word that the Gods inspire—
In his work finds the Land of His Heart’s Desire.”
poem by George Essex Evans
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Elevated...
Rarest of things, often small in number,
like Gold, Diamond, precious things, remember.
People, attracted towards it only for pleasure,
with greed for material, is beyond one's measure.
Amassing wealth beyond one's need,
Often grows that ego from the Devil's seed,
and that tree bears the fruits of sorrow,
once eaten your thoughts for good deeds do narrow.
Often People flock around you just for your money,
away they will go their way, when they find you don't have any,
The real wealth comes from the happiness you share,
from service to mankind, you'll find people who care.
Put all that abundance into good, noble deed,
soon you'll find peace, and thus departs your greed.
you will take a position of a happiness giver,
because you will be elevated in the minds of people forever.
poem by Deepak Calyampoondi
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What Peace
While still our wars on earth increase
It seems that no one cares
What is this thing the world calls peace
What are the fruit it bears
Though all things come through Christ above
Will Heaven and earth agree
True peace will only come through love
Once truth has set us free
When worldly man seeks Heaven’s will
When righting things done wrong
Then peace one day each heart will fill
And joy will raise its song
We now must learn to pray as one
Must cease each selfish fight
Until true peace through love is won
And hearts in Christ unite
Before this world can live as blessed
The facts she needs to see
Her differences must find their rest
Her wars must cease to be
We disagree through injured pride
We kill because of hate
Through selfish foolish things inside
We close to love our gate
When to our souls The Truth we sew
When love flows through our hearts
In individuals peace can grow
And true Salvation starts
For what is peace without true love
How can the world survive?
How can a soul join God above?
Or ever hope to thrive?
poem by Michael P. Johnson
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The Afterglow
Oh, for the fire that used to glow
In those my days of old!
I never thought a man could grow
So callous and so cold.
Ah, for the heart that used to ache
For those in sorrow’s ways;
I often wish my heart could break
As it did in those dead days.
Along my track of storm and stress,
And it is plain to trace,
I look back from the loneliness
And the depth of my disgrace.
’Twas fate and only fate I know,
But all mistakes are plain,
’Tis sadder than the afterglow,
More dreary than the rain.
But still there lies a patch of sun
That ne’er will come again,
Those golden days when I was one
Of Nature’s gentlemen.
And if there is a memory
Could break me down at last,
It sure would be the thought of this,
The sunshine in the past.
But ’spite of sunshine on the track—
And well the sun might shine—
My heart grows hard when I look back
From these dark days of mine.
A nobler child was never born
In all the Southern land—
The slave of selfish ignorance
That could not understand.
Oh, I had lived for many years
In a world of my ideal,
With no false laughter, no false tears,
And it seemed very real.
But I was wakened from my dreams,
And learnt with hardening eyes
A world of selfish treachery,
Of paltry shame and lies.
I left the truest friends on earth
Who did not need my aid,
And worked for those who were not worth
The sacrifice I made.
And while I blindly strove to raise
The coward and the clown,
They sneaked behind by shady ways
And tore my palace down.
But let those faithless friends of mine
Who’d think of me with scorn,
Remember that for many years
A heavy load I’ve borne.
And my true friends when all is done,
And my sad soul is gone,
Will think of battles I have won
When I lead rivals on.
And though from spite and worldly things
I well should be exempt,
For little men and paltry men
I scarce can feel contempt.
They followed me with flattery
In the days when I was brave—
But for those who have been true to me
I’ll strike back from the grave!
poem by Henry Lawson
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Rely On God Always
When future seems a bit bizarre,
And hope and faith in God wavers,
Our God who stood by us thus far
Neither abandons nor forsakes!
Life brings in its wake ups and downs;
Sometimes, they come in sustained ways;
Self-confidence is low at times;
We wonder if God will not help!
But then the truth is contrary;
God is our only trusted friend;
He is most loving, caring one,
Who meets our needs on time, His way!
Our human minds do always doubt
About our earthly achievements;
But success need not always come
To those who persevere and toil!
So, what if sometimes things go wrong?
Our minds are not perfect in maths;
All risks are not discernible;
None can predict the future well!
Our Mother Nature is supreme;
God is the Master of all things;
He loves His best creation - man!
And wants his soul back in pure form!
Worrying is not the right answer
To numerous problems on earth;
Our faith in God should not dither,
Despite all odds that crop at times!
So, trouble not your worried minds;
Leave all worries with God to solve;
His heart of kindness and of love
Knows human needs, weaknesses, strength!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trusting In The Lord
A need for trust marks the way, as things do change, day to day,
As we become self-assured, things can be changed by The Lord,
For it is The Lord, and Him alone, Who sets the plan for His own,
Having set forth a much larger plan, than in the heart of any man.
God’s Plan shall indeed survive, just as His Will keeps man alive,
And when things appear to fall apart, real Trust must fill our heart.
As Christ leads us, in His Peace, that in dark times will not cease.
While God leads us by His hand, in this sometimes troubled land.
As present days seem to darken, it’s God’s voice we must harken,
While fully trusting in God’s will, to let our troubled heart to be still,
For God alone, does not change, while His plan remains the same,
And in this dark and troubled world, it is this Truth, we must herald.
The Lord God remains in control, through every trial, big and small,
And when His Hand I cannot see, His Truth alone is enough for me,
So as I continue my life down here, I know that God is always near,
Guiding me with Power and Grace, as I continue in this earthly race.
Friend, my trust is not in man or me, but, in The God of all Eternity,
Who alone, holds all things together, not only for now, but forever;
Sustaining all things is Jesus Christ, He, Who gave me Eternal Life,
And if Eternal Life is His to give, He’s able to help me, daily to live.
(Copyright ©07/2010)
The Next One
The next one
Will not be like me
I know I have flaws
As you plainly do see
I know I'm not perfect
But I know I did try
But you only see me
Through days of past eyes
I bet he'll be perfect
Say all the right things
Bring you all of the joy
A new relationship brings
Will he open your door?
As 9 years have gone by
When you share your hurts
Will he truthfully cry?
Will his heart stick with you?
Through thick and through thin?
Will he love you through everything?
The good stuff and sin?
Will he laugh at your jokes?
With genuine heart?
Will it last through the years?
Or just at the start?
Will he walk with you
Through all of your dreams?
And make them come true?
As sure as it seems.
If you lay in bed dying
Will he hold your last breath?
Will he love you forever?
Or just until death?
Will he change who he is?
To bring you much joy?
Will he cherish you like I do?
Or are you just a new toy?
Will he do what it takes?
To win back your heart.
Will he try to become
Who he was in the start?
Will he lead you to God?
Will he lead you to Hell?
I guess we'll find out
As only time will tell.
Will he love you like I do?
Through good times and bad?
When your loving or angry?
When your happy or mad?
Will he love you so deeply?
For you will he pray?
When things get real tough
Will he just walk away?
Would he walk through a fire?
Put his life on the line?
Give it all up for you?
Is his love stronger than mine?
Will he dream of a future?
Where you both will grow old?
Will he love you so dearly?
Will his love just turn cold?
If you did what I did
Would you just walk away?
Or stand up and fight on
Each and everyday
I just want you to be happy
So I'll let you go
You truly are worth it
I thought you should know
I will love you forever
After I leave this world
And even in heaven
You'll still be my girl
So now I to move on
Things will be what they'll be
For I know he won't love you
Won't love you like me.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life Worthwhile
As the rains from Heaven fall, we’re reminded, God is Lord of all,
He’s Lord above the land and sea, and The Lord of all of Eternity.
As the Creator of all you see, He is The Lord of both you and me,
And more than just our Creator, to many He is their loving Savior.
As Creator, God fills the earth, giving this life meaning and worth,
Making all life worthwhile for us, mere creatures, made from dust.
By placing into the soul of man, a need according to God’s Plan,
While upon earth, He put desire, to reach for a Truth much higher.
Truth that encompasses everything, decreed by The Eternal King,
With His Authority over everyone, through The Lord’s Eternal Son.
An Authority that sets men free, as they seek the Lord of Eternity,
Who, from His Eternal Throne, sets apart earthly men for His own,
God opens the eyes and the heart, of those whom He sets apart,
All those who purpose in this life, to follow His Son, Jesus Christ.
It’s His Truth that makes men wise, as The Spirit opens their eyes,
Revealing God’s Plan to those, who, believe in the One who rose.
The Holy Spirit then dwells in us, when in Christ we place our trust,
Becoming members of a family; belonging to God for all Eternity.
This and much more we receive, when God’s Truth, we do believe,
As Truth He gives to you and me, leads believers to Life Eternally.
(11/2007)
Song I
Lordly gallants! tell me this
(Though my safe content you weigh not),
In your greatness, what one bliss
Have you gained, that I enjoy not?
You have honours, you have wealth;
I have peace, and I have health:
All the day I merry make,
And at night no care I take.
Bound to none my fortunes be,
This or that man's fall I fear not;
Him I love that loveth me,
For the rest a pin I care not.
You are sad when others chaff,
And grow merry as they laugh;
I that hate it, and am free,
Laugh and weep as pleaseth me.
You may boast of favours shown,
Where your service is applied:
But my pleasures are mine own,
And to no man's humour tied.
You oft flatter, sooth, and feign;
I such baseness do disdain;
And to none be slave I would,
Though my fetters might be gold.
By great titles, some believe,
Highest honours are attained;
And yet kings have power to give
To their fools, what these have gained.
Where they favour there they may
All their names of honour lay;
But I look not raised to be,
'Till mine own wing carry me.
Seek to raise your titles higher;
They are toys not worth my sorrow;
Those that we to-day admire,
Prove the age's scorn to-morrow.
Take your honours; let me find
Virtue in a free born mind--
This, the greatest kings that be
Cannot give, nor take from me.
Though I vainly do not vaunt
Large demesnes, to feed my pleasure;
I have favours where you want,
That would buy respect with treasure.
You have lands lie here and there,
But my wealth is everywhere;
And this addeth to my store--
Fortune cannot make me poor.
Say you purchase with your pelf
Some respect, where you importune;
Those may love me for myself,
That regard you for your fortune.
Rich or born of high degree,
Fools as well as you may be;
But that peace in which I live
No descent nor wealth can give.
If you boast that you may gain
The respect of high-born beauties;
Know I never wooed in vain,
Nor preferrèd scornèd duties.
She I love hath all delight,
Rosy-red with lily-white,
And whoe'er your mistress be,
Flesh and blood as good as she.
Note of me was never took,
For my woman-like perfections;
But so like a man I look,
It hath gained me best affections.
For my love as many showers
Have been wept as have for yours:
And yet none doth me condemn
For abuse, or scorning them.
Though of dainties you have store,
To delight a choicer palate,
Yet your taste is pleased no more
Than is mine in one poor sallet.
You to please your senses feed
But I eat good blood to breed;
And am most delighted then
When I spend it like a man.
Though you lord it over me,
You in vain thereof have braved;
For those lusts my servants be
Whereunto your minds are slaved.
To yourselves you wise appear,
But, alas! deceived you are;
You do foolish me esteem,
And are that which I do seem.
When your faults I open lay,
You are moved, and mad with vexing;
But you ne'er could do or say
Aught to drive me to perplexing.
Therefore, my despisèd power
Greater is, by far, than your.
And, whate'er you think of me,
In your minds you poorer be.
You are pleasèd, more or less,
As men well or ill report you;
And show discontentedness,
When the times forbear to court you.
That in which my pleasures be,
No man can divide from me;
And my care it adds not to,
Whatso others say or do.
Be not proud, because you view
You by thousands are attended;
For, alas! it is not you,
But your fortune that's befriended.
Where I show of love have got,
Such a danger fear I not:
Since they nought can seek of me,
But for love, beloved to be.
When your hearts have everything,
You are pleasantly disposed:
But I can both laugh and sing,
Though my foes have me enclosed.
Yea, when dangers me do hem,
I delight in scorning them,
More than you in your renown,
Or a king can in his crown.
You do bravely domineer,
Whilst the sun upon you shineth:
Yet, if any storm appear,
Basely, then, your mind declineth.
But, or shine, or rain, or blow,
I my resolutions know--
Living, dying, thrall, or free,
At one height my mind shall be.
When in thraldom I have lain,
Me not worth your thought you prized;
But your malice was in vain,
For your favours I despised.
And, howe'er you value me,
I with praise shall thought on be
When the world esteems you not
And your names shall be forgot.
In these thoughts my riches are;
Now, though poor or mean you deem me,
I am pleased, and do not care
How the times or you esteem me.
For those toys that make you gay
Are but play-games for a day:
And when nature craves her due,
I as brave shall be as you.
poem by George Wither
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Heart Of A Nation
The land of beauty,
The land of joy,
The land of plenty,
With the pearl of tourism to blow my mind!
But, the pride of a nation is all about you.
The home of peace is like,
The people's paradise;
the land of hope is like,
The home of hospitality;
The land of equity is like,
The state of harmony;
And, the food basket of the nation is with joy!
But, the pride of a nation is all about you.
Home for all is like,
The salt of a nation;
Home for solid mineral is like,
The centre of commerce;
But, the sunshine state is where to share your love with,
For, the pride of a nation is all about you.
The state of caliphate and,
The liberal state of love;
For, thenew world is always around you! !
But, the jewel in the savannah is all that i share with you.
Coal in the city of love,
And like the fountain of knowledge and power! !
But the heart beat of a nation is like,
The centre of excellence!
The state of a living spring is like the gateway to all!
But the peace setter state is what i share with you;
Because, nature's gift to a nation is like the rainbow!
Of the big heart of love and,
Of the centre of unity to all mankind!
For, the young shall grow;
And, the treasure base of life is the status of peace.
The pride to farm the land,
And of the confluence state of my mind! !
But, the power to show love is like,
The Creator's own state of mind to a nation!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Time To Stand Opposed
Truth may be black and white, but some choose the dark of night,
When it comes to political views, many simply shift and just muse.
Thinking of all, but God's Word, ignoring Truths that they've heard,
Truths which should be our light, in this world where wrong is right.
Compromising Scripture for man; it's not of God but Satan's plan,
Satan's plan to hinder God's Truth; look around and see the proof,
An amoral nation we've become, as for Truth we're biblically dumb,
Following the ways of wicked men, in a nation God shall condemn!
The Truth has become irrelevant, so how long shall The Lord relent?
He, who put His Law in our heart, from which many chose to depart,
This country shall have no excuse, regardless of how leaders muse,
As their thinking is devoid of God, so they'll see His Righteous Rod,
Unfortunately some in The Church, follow their wicked political lurch,
As they make changes suddenly, they defy the God over all eternity,
The Laws ascribed by a Holy God, for all men upon this earthly sod,
Yet more are following the evil ways, of immoral leaders in our days.
It is time for many to take a stand, in an ever increasing amoral land,
All, who know Christ's Righteousness, must oppose the wickedness,
Being Christ's Light in this world, where Satan's darkness is unfurled,
In a world that is turning dark as night, to point others to God's Light.
(Copyright ©05/2012)
Cap And Trade
Cap and Trade sheds some doubt, to what its purpose is all about,
As Cap and Trade with all the facts, is quite obvious exorbitant tax.
We must give to Caesar all that’s his, but is there any more to this?
While proposing we’ll see more, how about business and the poor?
Souls have capped and traded for, life of poverty against the Lord,
Opposing the Truths of God’s Son, Who still rules above everyone,
As they lift up God’s own creation, they mock the God of Salvation,
Lifting higher their own plan’s worth, they say “we must” fix the earth.
Capping their minds from God’s Truth, they traded it for His reproof,
Self exalted, above God in pride, as His Sustaining Power is denied,
Standing tall, haughty and proud, speaking down to the entire crowd,
Legislating a deceptive, empty path, which shall lead to God’s Wrath.
They’ve traded God’s Truth for lies, as Prophetic Truths they despise,
Ignoring that, God, Who created all, won’t just watch His Creation fall,
While earth, alone, He will sustain, without man’s effort, dark and vain,
And in Heaven God laughs at man, lead into derision by Satan’s plan.
God indeed, capped His Creation, with man, now in need of salvation,
Man has traded his need for Him, for a plan tainted with pride and sin,
However, God still waits patiently, for those souls to come to Calvary,
It’s not this earth, but, they are lost; in need of Grace from that Cross.
(Copyright ©04/2009)
To-Day
OH God, where hast thou hidden Truth? Oh Truth,
Where is the road to God?
Lo, we, that should be old, have learned our youth;
We are not manly ripe; we have not dower
Of all the wisdom that a world can gain
In the centuries of work, peace, war, hope, pain;
We are not strong with all the gathered power
From age to age left our inheritance;
We stand not near the goal, there by the advance
Of step on step, through mire and blood and tears,
Forgotten fathers trod;
We are new in a new world; where shall we know,
Where in the ancient years,
Sign-marks to guide us on the way we go?
We are new in a new world. As children learn
Life by surprise and doubt,
So life must learn itself at each return
Of the upsoaring Phoenix birth from sleep
Among the ashes of an ended Past.
In its own strength, and singly from the last,
Each age's long To-day begins to creep
In baby paces whitherward it goes.
And from too far with too unsure a close,
Like void sonorous echoes in the hill,
Yesterday's voice rings out,
So gives the questioning turmoil of our cries
Answer such as we will.
Has Past writ Present in its histories?
Our fathers saw, we see not with their eyes,
Knew, and we learned in vain:
We seek old wisdoms in a novel wise;
We toil beginners of the things that are;
Like lessons which we early get by rote,
Heedless of meaning in the words we quote,
And by and by, the schoolroom left afar,
Discern at last their sense or find a new,
The just, the unjust, the counterfeit, the true,
We said from books upon our fathers' shelves,
All must be learned again:
We, children-like, still wondering as we grow,
Change, and become ourselves,
And only as ourselves can henceforth know.
How shall we know? what must we do? what be?
Answer us, Life, instead:
Past speaks us a dead tongue, we look to thee
And know thee teacher—yet a tardy one;
For now we labour, fearing to what end;
We journey, dimly seeing where we tend;
We do, and question was it rightly done;
Doubt and distrust of self beside us stand;
And who will find us Truth? where is her hand
To guide us on or back by the round path,
Leading but whence it led,
She travels on from God to reach him by?
What is the name she hath
To find her by to-day? Life, make reply.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Introit : V. Litany Of Beauty
Joy, if the Soul or aught immortal be,
How may this Beauty know mortality?
O Beauty, perfect child of Light,
Sempiternal spirit of delight!
White and set with gold like the gold of the night,
The gold of the stars in quiet weather,--
White and shapely and pure!--
O lily-flower from stain secure,
With life and virginity dying together!
One lily liveth so,
Liveth for ever unstained, immortal, a mystic flower:
Perfectly wrought its frame,
Gold inwrought and eternal white,
White more white than cold of the snow,
For never, never, near it came,
Never shall come till the end of all,
Hurtful thing in wind or shower,
Worm or stain or blight;
But ever, ever, gently fall
The dews elysian of years that flow
Where it doth live secure
In flawless comeliness mature,
Golden and white and pure.
In the fair far-shining glow
Of eternal and holy Light.
Beauty of earthly things
Wrought by God and with hands of men!
Beauty of Nature and Art,
Fashioned anew for each Time brings,
For each new soul and living heart!
Beauty of Beauty that fills the ken
Till the soul is swooning, faint with delight!
Beauty of human form and voice,
Of eyes and ears and lips!--
O golden hair and brow of white!--
Wine of Beauty that whoso sips
Doth die to a spirit free, and rejoice,
Living with God and living with men,
Rapt rejoice in eternal bliss,
Raising his face to meet the kiss
Of the Beauty seraphic he sees above
In figure of his love.
O Beauty of Wisdom unsought
That in trance to poet is taught,
Uttered in secret lay,
Singing the heart from earth away,
Cunning the soul from care to lure,--
O mystic lily, from stain and death secure,
Till the end of all to stay!
O shapely flower that must for ever endure!
O voice of God that every heart must hear!
O hymn of purest souls that dost unsphere
The ravished soul that hears! O white, white gem!
O rose that dost the senses drown in bliss!
No thought shall stay the wing, or stem
The song or win the heart to miss
Thy love, thy joy, thy rapture divine!
O Beauty, Beauty, ever thine
The soul, the heart, the brain,
To own three in a loud perpetual strain,
Shriller and sweeter than song of wine,
Than song of sorrow or love or war!
Beauty of heaven and sun and day,
Beauty of water and frost and star,
Beauty of dusk-tide, narrowing, grey!
Beauty of silver light,
Beauty of purple night,
Beauty of solemn breath,
Beauty of closèd eye, and sleep, and death!
Beauty of dawn and dew,
Beauty of morning peace,
Ever ancient and ever new,
Ever renewed till waking cease
Or sleep for ever, when loud the angel's word
Through all the world is heard!
Beauty of brute and bird,
Beauty of earthly creatures
Whose hearts by the hand of God are stirred!
Beauty of the soul,
Beauty informing forms and features,
Fairest to God's eye,--
Beauty that cannot fade or die
Though atoms to ruin roll!
Beauty of blinded Trust,
Led by the hand of God
To a heaven where Cherub hath never trod!
Austere Beauty of Truth
Lighting the way of the just!
Splendid Beauty of Youth
Staying when Youth is sped,
Living when Life is dead,
Burning in funeral dust!
The glory of form doth pale and pall,
Beauty endures to the end of all.
poem by Thomas MacDonagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: Abide in God
God, help me live as per Thy divine Will!
Enamored by the world, let me not live;
Let temptations not make my heart/ soul ill;
Let me for Thy sake live and my life give.
Nothing is worth living for in this world;
The righteous path is but one thing worthwhile;
And life is God’s greatest gift that we hold;
And sin which God detests, let us not pile.
What divine love gave us our human for?
Let us return that love a hundredfold,
By living life as per the Maker’s norm;
Heaven is worth all earth’s treasures and gold.
The Maker strict is kind in umpteen ways;
And soon over will be our earthly days.
20-2-2001
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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