Dartside, 1849
I cannot tell what you say green leaves,
I cannot tell what you say :
But I know that there is a spirit in you,
And a word in you this day.
I cannot tell what you say, rosy rocks,
I cannot tell what you say :
But I know that there is a spirit in you,
And a word in you this day.
I cannot tell what you say, brown streams,
I cannot tell what you say :
But I know that in you too a spirit doth live,
And a word doth speak this day.
"Oh green is the colour of faith and truth,
And rose the colour of love and youth,
And brown of the fruitful clay.
Sweet Earth is faithful, and fruitful, and young,
And her bridal day shall come ere long,
And you shall know what the rocks and the streams
And the whispering woodlands say."
poem by Charles Kingsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Today... 'The Word
Word of love and the Word made flesh
Word incarnate forever blessed
Word of life and the Word of light
Word of power and Word of might.
Word that was spoken, Word of the Lord
Word of the Law and the Word of God
Word of peace and Word eternal
Word of truth and last Word of all.
Word of wisdom and the Word of healing
Word from heaven, a Word so appealing
Word fulfilling the Word of prophecy
Word of the Spirit and Word of destiny.
Word of exhortation and Word of grace
Word of encouragement and Word of faith
Word of promise and a Word of insight
Word from the beginning and Word of delight.
Word of knowledge and a Word of boldness
Word of peace and the Word of righteousness
Word of the covenant and Word of love
Word of the Father from heaven above.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box)
Sea
The Sea called--I lay on the rocks and said:
"I am come."
She mocked and showed her teeth,
Stretching out her long green arms.
"Go away!" she thundered.
"Then tell me what I am to do," I begged.
"If I leave you, you will not be silent,
But cry my name in the cities
And wistfully entreat me in the plains and forests;
All else I forsake to come to you--what must I do?"
"Never have I uttered your name," snarled the Sea.
"There is no more of me in your body
Than the little salt tears you are frightened of shedding.
What can you know of my love on your brown rock
pillow....
Come closer."
poem by Katherine Mansfield
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Word
Find the word, understand the word,
Depend on the word;
The word is heaven and space, the word the earth,
The word the universe.
The word is in our ears, the word is on our tongues,
The word the idol.
The word is the holy book, the word is harmony,
The word is music.
The word is magic, the word the Guru.
The word is the body, the word is the spirit, the word is being,
The word Not-being.
The word is man, the word is woman,
The Worshipped Great.
The word is the seen and unseen, the word is the existent
And the non-existent.
Know the word, says Kabir,
The word is All-powerful.
Looking For Direction
What does God have to say, have you looked in His Word today?
Where He speaks to men like us, when in Him we place our trust.
However, God will speak to anyone, if you’d like to know His Son,
To know Christ in a personal way, so God can speak to you today.
If you are looking for direction, God’s Word is your best selection,
God’s guide for your daily life, in a world filled with pain and strife.
His Word is more than just advice, as it points all men to New Life.
God left us with His Holy Word, to read anew Truth’s we’ve heard.
God does not leave us all alone, and calls on men to be His own,
He sent The Spirit upon the earth, to give to them a spiritual birth.
The Spirit helps common man, to read The Word and understand,
That The God of all eternity, came to earth to die, for you and me.
God’s Holy Spirit opens eyes, as God changes hearts and minds,
Then He leads men to the place, where they read of God’s Grace.
God’s Word helps us comprehend, what God has done for all men,
That His Son came to earth to die, to provide New Life to you and I.
To some it may be just a book, however it deserves a second look,
The Bible is God’s revelation; God’s Truth revealed to every nation.
Without it many nations perish, without The Word which we cherish.
It is a message from our Creator, to lead us to our Lord and Savior.
(Copyright ©10/2006)
To Know The Word of the Spirit Original 01 16 2011
TO KNOW THE WORD
OF THE SPIRIT:
Original 01 16 2011
To know the word as motive
Know that God speaks the nous
Between his will and knowledge
Prerogatives of vision and reason
To know the word as verbal
Know that God speaks transcendent
Nous -to know the word as noun
Know God speaks the tone of you
To know the word as poem read
To know the word as pronoun
Know that god does not speak
Of you god speaks to you
To know the word as adverb
Know that God does not speak
About you God speaks through you
To know the word as adjective
Know that God speaks by you
To know the word as preposition
Know God speaks from the heart
To know the word as poem write
To know the word is off the table
Know that God knows who sops
And all that was [was] forgiven
To know word as free verse
To know the word as parable
Know that God speaks nous
To know that God has spoken
Know pain and pleasure in spirit.
Lee Mack copyright 2009. ISBN # 0615318347. Do not reproduce without permissions.
poem by Lee B. Mack
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You're A Good Man Albert Brown
Well you're a good man albert brown
And you was wounded in the war
And though you shot some people down
You're still a good man albert brown
Well you're a good man albert brown
Though you are drunk upon the floor
And if you're buying the next round
Then you're a good man albert...
Brown was the colour of the mud across the somme
Red was the blood you spilled upon it
Pink were the fingers of the nurse who dressed your wound
White was the starch upon her bonnet
And you married that nurse
And her name was else
And then along came dad
...i'll have another pint of...
Brown is the colour of your old walking boots
Green is the cash you'd love to squander
Gold is the colour of your wife's faithful heart
So get yourself home, no more to wander
And you married that nurse
And her name's still else
And another child was had
You're a good man albert brown
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Concerning The Synthetic Unity Of Apperception
"Trash, trash!" the king my uncle said,
"The spirit's smoke and weak as smoke ascends.
"Sit in the sun and not among the dead,
"Eat oranges! Pish tosh! the car attends.
"All ghosts came back. they do not like it there,
"No silky water and no big brown bear,
"No beer and no siestas up above."
"Uncle," I said, "I'm lonely. What is love?"
This drove him quite insane. Now he must knit
Time and apperception, bit by tiny bit.
poem by Delmore Schwartz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Seed
See how a Seed, which Autumn flung down,
And through the Winter neglected lay,
Uncoils two little green leaves and two brown,
With tiny root taking hold on the clay
As, lifting and strengthening day by day,
It pushes red branchless, sprouts new leaves,
And cell after cell the Power in it weaves
Out of the storehouse of soil and clime,
To fashion a Tree in due course of time;
Tree with rough bark and boughs' expansion,
Where the Crow can build his mansion,
Or a Man, in some new May,
Lie under whispering leaves and say,
"Are the ills of one's life so very bad
When a Green Tree makes me deliciously glad?"
As I do now. But where shall I be
When this little Seed is a tall green Tree?
poem by William Allingham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Speak The Word
Unsettled hearts
Promise what they cant deliver
Bring me the wine
And the cold night air to clear my head
Gray matter memory house
Master of this trembling flesh
Steady still my doubts
Let me speak the word that precedes bliss
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Love love love love love love love love
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Love love love love love love love love
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
These weakened knees
Have not touched ground or pew in ages
I havent bowed my head
I offer thanks to any God or to ask for favors
But watch me now
Im falling down
Praying
To speak the word that precedes bliss
To speak the word
To speak the word
Love love love love love love love love
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Love love love love love love love love
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behold, the grave of a wicked man
Behold, the grave of a wicked man,
And near it, a stern spirit.
There came a drooping maid with violets,
But the spirit grasped her arm.
"No flowers for him," he said.
The maid wept:
"Ah, I loved him."
But the spirit, grim and frowning:
"No flowers for him."
Now, this is it --
If the spirit was just,
Why did the maid weep?
poem by Stephen Crane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forever
"Forever": 'tis a single word!
Our rude forefathers deemed it two:
Can you imagine so absurd
A view?
"Forever"! What abysms of woe
The word reveals, what frenzy, what
Despair! "For ever" (printed so)
Did not.
It looks, ah me! how trite and tame!
It fails to sadden or appal
Or solace--it is not the same
At all.
O thou to whom it first occurred
To solder the disjoined, and dower
The native language with a word
Of power:
We bless thee! Whether far or near
Thy dwelling, whether dark or fair
Thy kingly brow, is neither here
Nor there.
But in men's hearts shall be thy throne,
While the great pulse of England beats.
Thou coiner of a word unknown
To Keats!
And nevermore must printer do
As men did long ago; but run
"For" into "ever," bidding two
Be one.
"Forever"! passion-fraught, it throws
O'er the dim page a gloom, a glamour:
It's sweet, it's strange; and I suppose
It's grammar.
"Forever"! 'Tis a single word!
And yet our fathers deemed it two:
Nor am I confident they erred;
Are you?
poem by Charles Stuart Calverley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet LIX: As Love and I
As Love and I, late harbor'd in one inn,
With proverbs thus each other entertain:
"In Love there is no lack," thus I begin;
"Fair words make fools," replieth he again;
"Who spares to speak doth spare to speed," quoth I;
"As well," saith he, "too forward as too slow";
"Fortune assists the boldest," I reply;
"A hasty man," quoth he, "ne'er wanted woe";
"Labor is light where Love," quoth I, "doth pay";
Saith he, "Light burden's heavy, if far borne";
Quoth I, "The main lost, cast the bye away";
"You have spun a fair thread," he replies in scorn.
And having thus awhile each other thwarted,
Fools as we met, so fools again we parted.
poem by Michael Drayton
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Death is a Dialogue between
976
Death is a Dialogue between
The Spirit and the Dust.
"Dissolve" says Death—The Spirit "Sir
I have another Trust"—
Death doubts it—Argues from the Ground—
The Spirit turns away
Just laying off for evidence
An Overcoat of Clay.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Wreck of the Golfer
It was the Bondi golfing man
Drove off from the golf house tee,
And he had taken his little daughter
To bear him company.
"Oh, Father, why do you swing the club
And flourish it such a lot?"
"You watch it fly o'er the fences high!"
And he tried with a brassey shot.
"Oh, Father, why did you hit the fence
Just there where the brambles twine?"
And the father he answered never a word,
But he got on the green in nine.
"Oh, Father, hark from behind those trees,
What dismal yells arrive!"
"'Tis a man I ween on the second green,
And I've landed him with my drive."
"Oh, Father, why does the poor Chinee
Fall down on his knees and cry?"
"He taketh me for his Excellency,
And he thinks once hit twice shy."
So on they fared to the waterhole,
And he drove with a lot of dash,
But his balls full soon in the dread lagoon
Fell down with a woeful splash.
"Oh, Father, why do you beat the sand
Till it flies like the carded wool?"
And the father he answered never a word,
For his heart was much too full.
"Oh, Father, why are they shouting 'fore'
And screaming so lustily?"
But the father he answered never a word,
A pallid corpse was he.
For a well-swung drive on the back of his head
Had landed and laid him low.
Lord save us all from a fate like this
When next to the links we go.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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His Litany to the Holy Spirit
In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart, and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drown'd in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
Whe the artless doctor sees
No one hope but of his fees,
And his skill runs on the lees,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When his potion and his pill,
Has or none or little skill,
Meet for nothing, but to kill,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the passing-bell doth toll,
And the Furies in a shoal
Come to fright a parting soul,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more than true,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the priest his last hath prayed,
And I nod to what is said,
'Cause my speech is now decayed,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When (God knows) I'm toss'd about,
Either with despair or doubt,
Yet before the glass be out,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the Tempter me pursu'th
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the flames and hellish cries
Fright mine ears and fright mine eyes,
And all terrors me surprise,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the Judgment is revealed,
And that open'd which was seal'd,
When to Thee I have appeal'd,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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His Litany, To The Holy Spirit
In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart, and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drown'd in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the artless doctor sees
No one hope, but of his fees,
And his skill runs on the lees,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When his potion and his pill,
Has, or none, or little skill,
Meet for nothing but to kill,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the passing-bell doth toll,
And the furies in a shoal
Come to fright a parting soul,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more than true,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the priest his last hath pray'd,
And I nod to what is said,
'Cause my speech is now decay'd,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When, God knows, I'm tost about
Either with despair, or doubt;
Yet, before the glass be out,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tempter me pursu'th
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the flames and hellish cries
Fright mine ears, and fright mine eyes,
And all terrors me surprise,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the Judgment is reveal'd,
And that open'd which was seal'd;
When to Thee I have appeal'd,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
poem by Robert Herrick
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Mortality
"And we shall be changed.""And we shall be changed."
Ye dainty mosses, lichens grey,
Pressed each to each in tender fold,
And peacefully thus, day by day,
Returning to their mould;
Brown leaves, that with aerial grace
Slip from your branch like birds a-wing,
Each leaving in the appointed place
Its bud of future spring; --
If we, God's conscious creatures, knew
But half your faith in our decay,
We should not tremble as we do
When summoned clay to clay.
But with an equal patience sweet
We should put off this mortal gear,
In whatsoe'er new form is meet
Content to reappear.
Knowing each germ of life He gives
Must have in Him its source and rise,
Being that of His being lives
May change, but never dies.
Ye dead leaves, dropping soft and slow,
Ye mosses green and lichens fair,
Go to your graves, as I will go,
For God is also there.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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The Frost Spirit
He comes, - he comes, - the Frost Spirit comes!
You may trace his footsteps now
On the naked woods and the blasted fields
And the brown hill's withered brow.
He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees
Where their pleasant green came forth,
And the winds, which follow wherever he goes,
Have shaken them down to earth.
He comes, - he comes, - the Frost Spirit comes!
From the frozen Labrador,
From the icy bridge of the northern seas,
Which the white bear wanders o'er,
Where the fisherman's sail is stiff with ice,
And the luckless forms below
In the sunless cold of the lingering night
Into marble statues grow!
He comes, - he comes, - the Frost Spirit comes!
On the rushing Northern blast,
And the dark Norwegian pines have bowed
As his fearful breath went past.
With an unscorched wing he has hurried on,
Where the fires of Hecla glow
On the darkly beautiful sky above
And the ancient ice below.
He comes, - he comes, - the Frost Spirit comes!
And the quiet lake shall feel
The torpid touch of his glazing breath,
And ring to the skater's heel;
And the streams which danced on the broken rocks,
Or sang to the leaning grass,
Shall bow again to their winter chain,
And in mournful silence pass.
He comes, - he comes, - the Frost Spirit comes!
Let us meet him as we may,
And turn with the light of the parlor-fire
His evil power away;
And gather closer the circle 'round,
When the firelight dances high,
And laugh at the shriek of the baffled Fiend
As his sounding wing goes by!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Wolfe demanded during dying
678
Wolfe demanded during dying
"Which obtain the Day"?
"General, the British"—"Easy"
Answered Wolfe "to die"
Montcalm, his opposing Spirit
Rendered with a smile
"Sweet" said he "my own Surrender
Liberty's beguile"
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Grave and The Rose
The Grave said to the Rose,
"What of the dews of dawn,
Love's flower, what end is theirs?"
"And what of spirits flown,
The souls whereon doth close
The tomb's mouth unawares?"
The Rose said to the Grave.
The Rose said, "In the shade
From the dawn's tears is made
A perfume faint and strange,
Amber and honey sweet."
"And all the spirits fleet
Do suffer a sky-change,
More strangely than the dew,
To God's own angels new,"
The Grave said to the Rose.
poem by Victor Hugo
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