On The Vita Nuova Of Dante
AS he that loves oft looks on the dear form
And guesses how it grew to womanhood,
And gladly would have watched the beauties bud
And the mild fire of precious life wax warm:
So I, long bound within the threefold charm
Of Dante's love sublimed to heavenly mood,
Had marvelled, touching his Beatitude,
How grew such presence from man's shameful swarm.
At length within this book I found pourtrayed
Newborn that Paradisal Love of his,
And simple like a child; with whose clear aid
I understood. To such a child as this,
Christ, charging well His chosen ones, forbade
Offence: “for lo! of such my kingdom is.”
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Related quotes
Label of a Child
When I first met him, he was just a small little child,
He was so sweet and innocent, meek, and mild.
His future was shining through his brilliant little eyes,
Unaware of the coming troubles, conflicts and lies.
As he watched me with eyes full of curiosity,
He stayed back alittle, just evaluating me.
He was now labed, as a child of divorce,
He didn't know the term 'divorce' of course.
His dad stood by him with deep passion and love,
The kind of love that comes from heaven above.
No one could touch him, if not through his dad,
It's a story of love, we all wish we had
As time crawled on, he was still unsure,
He watched and waited for love that was pure.
Not the forced love, just because of birth
The type of love that shows a child's worth.
One day, the child dropped his defenses
And asked, Will you be my mom? , in a complete sentence.
I offered my heart, my world, and my life,
to this little boy who was riddled with strife.
As the years passed, a strong family grew,
A 'divorced' family? Nobody knew.
We over came much trouble and strive,
But we have a strong family and a terrific live.
So, when you come into a relationship, where's there a child,
Go slowly and patiently, gently and mild.
Remember, a 'step' is something under your feet,
It should never been used on a child, please be discreet.
The only thing that child should ever hear,
Is, I love you deeply and I need you near.
Don't label that child as step or divorced
That causes deep sadness and total remorse!
Just say I love you to your child every day,
Then the love of that child will never go away.
poem by Donna Kay Patterson
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Sonnets XCIX: C: Newborn Death
I
To-day Death seems to me an infant child
Which her worn mother Life upon my knee
Has set to grow my friend and play with me;
If haply so my heart might be beguil'd
To find no terrors in a face so mild,—
If haply so my weary heart might be
Unto the newborn milky eyes of thee,
O Death, before resentment reconcil'd.
How long, O Death? And shall thy feet depart
Still a young child's with mine, or wilt thou stand
Fullgrown the helpful daughter of my heart,
What time with thee indeed I reach the strand
Of the pale wave which knows thee what thou art,
And drink it in the hollow of thy hand?
II
And thou, O Life, the lady of all bliss,
With whom, when our first heart beat full and fast,
I wandered till the haunts of men were pass'd,
And in fair places found all bowers amiss
Till only woods and waves might hear our kiss,
While to the winds all thought of Death we cast:—
Ah, Life! and must I have from thee at last
No smile to greet me and no babe but this?
Lo! Love, the child once ours; and Song, whose hair
Blew like a flame and blossomed like a wreath;
And Art, whose eyes were worlds by God found fair:
These o'er the book of Nature mixed their breath
With neck-twined arms, as oft we watched them there:
And did these die that thou mightst bear me Death?
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Love is a child
Love was a child, so meek and so mild
Love was a child who smiled.
Love was a child who played with a toy train
Love was a child who jumped in puddles in the rain.
Love was a child who laughed and played.
Love was a child God lovingly made.
Love is a child that God now holds
Love is a child who will never grow old.
Love is a child we sorely miss
Love is a child who Angels now kiss.
Love is a child.
poem by Daniel Hooks
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Precious As A Child
precious as a child
nothing should be
more precious
than a child
nothing should be more
contagious than a smille
of a child
nothing should be
more cared of
than a child
childrens innocence
so often shattered
childrens love
so often flouted
nothing should be more
of importance
than a child
nothing should be more
powerfully loved by us
than a child
childrens spontaneity
so often trampled on
childrens forgiveness
so often ignored
nothing should be more
cherished in this world
than a child
nothing should be more
hugged with affection
than a child
tell me stranger
what is more
beautiful and precious
than any dear child
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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Why Hate Me I Am Just A Child
i born as a child
i grew as a boy
i need love as you have
i need peace as you have
i need respect as you have
i am a little boy sitting at my table
i cry because you hate me i don't know why
i am afraid to walk the streat because of enemies
i am a little child a little humble child
why you hate me please love me
please accept me i am a little child
i don't have no one it's me alone
i am a child just a little child a little lonely child
can you be my friend and i will stop cry
you is my greatest fear please love me hi
i am a little lonely child just sitting at my door
waiting for you to say hi i need love or i may die
i am a little child a little humble child
poem by Gamar robinson
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Not A Child
'Not a child: I call myself a boy,'
Says my king, with accent stern yet mild,
Now nine years have brought him change of joy;
'Not a child.'
How could reason be so far beguiled,
Err so far from sense's safe employ,
Stray so wide of truth, or run so wild?
Seeing his face bent over book or toy,
Child I called him, smiling: but he smiled
Back, as one too high for vain annoy -
Not a child.
II.
Not a child? alack the year!
What should ail an undefiled
Heart, that he would fain appear
Not a child?
Men, with years and memories piled
Each on other, far and near,
Fain again would so be styled:
Fain would cast off hope and fear,
Rest, forget, be reconciled:
Why would you so fain be, dear,
Not a child?
III.
Child or boy, my darling, which you will,
Still your praise finds heart and song employ,
Heart and song both yearning toward you still,
Child or boy.
All joys else might sooner pall or cloy
Love than this which inly takes its fill,
Dear, of sight of your more perfect joy.
Nay, be aught you please, let all fulfil
All your pleasure; be your world your toy:
Mild or wild we love you, loud or still,
Child or boy.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Against Quarreling and Fighting
Let dogs delight to bark and bite,
For God hath made them so:
Let bears and lions growl and fight,
For 'tis their nature, too.
But, children, you should never let
Such angry passions rise:
Your little hands were never made
To tear each other's eyes.
Let love through all your actions run,
And all your words be mild:
Live like the blessed Virgin's Son,
That sweet and lovely child.
His soul was gentle as a lamb;
And as his stature grew,
He grew in favor both with man,
And God his Father too.
Now, Lord of all, he reigns above;
And from his heavenly throne
He sees what children dwell in love,
And marks them for his own.
poem by Isaac Watts
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I Would Do For You
The Mother looks into the eyes of her child,
With the love that is so deep and true
Then she hugs her child and loves her child,
And says, “ there is nothing that I would not do for you”.
She loves her child more than she does herself
She’ll places her child above all others
For the child she would die, And not even ask why,
As the child is hers, and she is the mother.
She knows she’ll will always be there for her child
No matter the pain or a reason why,
Just to see it smile or hear it laugh
It is the greatest joy that a mother wont hide.
She will follow her child throughout her life
That being the reason why she says she lives
The love is so great for a mother and her child,
That there is nothing that she would not do or give.
She thinks of her child constantly when she is alone
She knows no pain or discomfort when the child is near,
She is only here to make her child happy and wise
While hoping never to bring her child a tear.
I now look into the eyes of my wife,
The woman who I love with a love so deep and true,
As a mother loves her child, a man he loves his wife
And with her in mind I say, “ there is nothing that I wouldn't do for you”.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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A Child Is Angel Ever!
Any child is a sweet little angel anywhere!
Idea of angel would have evolved by child!
Child nature and Universal Spirit are God.
Born of love child is the sense of joy ever
That gives hope to family to pull on well
And the cheerful mood gives confidence!
Smiling as freshly bloomed flower child is
Cynosure of all everywhere moving all
To do great things at least to keep her joy!
We have to make the world better at least
For the child to live better in joy than us..
We have to do best things to make it better!
Child is God in the human form ever to lead
All in cheerful mood to cherish love and hope!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Silent Night
(arranged by reba mcentire)
(whats written in sentences and not verse at the beginning is what
Reba
Explains at the beginning, the rest is the song)
On christmas eve in 1818
A blizzard stranded the tiny village of ogledorf
Nestled in the austrian mountains
That same day the people of st. nicholas church found their organ
Broken
So the priest and organist began composing a song that could be sung
Without
An organ yet beautiful enough to express their christmas joy
All day and all night long they worked
And at midnight the gentle carol silent night was born
The pure clear tones echoed through the hills
And the world has been captured by the beauty of that simple song ever
Since.
Silent night
Holy night
All is calm
All is bright
Round yon virgin
Mother and child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace
Silent night
Holy night
Shepeards pray at the sight
Glory streams from heaven afar
Heavenly ? sing hallelujah
Christ the savior is born
Christ the savior is born
Silent night
Holy night
All is calm
And all is bright
Round yon virgin
Mother and child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace
Silent night
Holy night
Sleep in heavenly peace
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Robin Kuan: Was It Love that Grew You Rose?
Was it love that grew you, Rose?
Not harboured on the Cliffside by the sea
Red petals beaten by the salt and wind
And litter tossed beneath you carelessly
How delicate the fragrance of your flowers
So ravaged near the careless salty tide
No love has made you, Rose
And Yet your presence whispers, I abide
Was it hope that grew you, Rose?
Did a gardener come and visit you each day?
Was it one or five or three leaves ‘neath the bloom?
To make such flowers to take my breath away
No care has come to you by any hand
I see no shears or powders by your side
No hope has made you, Rose
And yet your presence whispers, I abide
Was it faith that grew you Rose
As winter burned your leaves to memory
And left your little branches cold and bare
Sweet flower on the Cliffside by the sea
How barren are your branches in the snow
Your vibrant flowers are frosted and denied
No faith has made you Rose
And Yet your presence whispers, I abide
Was it peace that grew you Rose
You heard “he loves me not, In singsong way”
Your petals scattered on the ground below
Confetti on the earth for children’s play
Your blooms will never be a bouquet held
For hybrid roses please the city bride
No peace has grown you Rose
And yet, your presence whispers, I abide
ii The epiphany
It was life that grew you Rose
Not faith or hope or love or peace, it’s true
As you braved the barren snows
It was life, that nestled deep inside of you
A force defying logics of the mind
More passion than all human love confides
It was life that made you Rose
I hear your presence whisper, I abide
In the place beyond us all
I visited with you by the morphic sea
You survived the winter snows
As sweet roses past revived your memory
And in simple heart I know
As I memorize these lines before repose
No wise man can realize
How profound you are my precious cliffside rose
(By My Dear Robin Kuan who is my friend)
poem by Laijon Liu
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A Child’s Song
WHEN the Child played in Galilee,
He had no wine-clear maple leaves,
No west winds singing of the sea
Over the frosted sheaves;
But with pale myrrh His head was bound
And crowned.
When the Child lived in Nazareth,
He watched the golden anise seed,
With daisies white in the wind's breath,
And hyssop flowering for His need,
While the late crocus from the sod
Flamed for her God.
When the Child dwelt in Palestine,
Over the brooks the willow grew,
Olive and aspen, oak and pine,
Sweet sycamore and yew,
But one dark Tree of all the seven
Stood high as heaven.
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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Love
Although i speak in tongues
Of men and angels
I'm just sounding brass
And tinkling cymbals without love--
Love suffers long--
Love is kind!--
Enduring all things--
Love has no evil in mind
If i had the gift of prophecy--
And all the knowledge--
And the faith to move the mountains
Even if i understood all of the mysteries--
If i didn't have love
I'd be nothing
Love--never looks for love--
Love's not puffed up--
Or envious--
Or touchy--
Because it rejoices in the truth
Not in iniquity
Love sees like a child sees
As a child i spoke as a child--
I thought and i understood as a child--
But when i became a woman--
I put away childish things
And began to see through a glass darkly
Where, as a child, i saw it face to face
Now, i only know it in part
Fractions in me
Of faith and hope and love
And of these great three
Love's the greatest beauty
Love
Love
Love
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Click here to listen to Precious Moments
Precious Moments My child's first steps
As he falters along
Are forever recorded
In my precious song
My child's laughter
Is music to my ear
And never forgotten
No matter what the year
My child's tiny hand
Slipped into mine
So small and soft
As we both entwine
My child's sparkling eyes
So blue and bright
Reveal when he's happy
And things are just right
My child's warm hug,
And his gentle kiss too
Add to the precious moment,
When he says, "I love you!"
poem by Evelyn Hilpp Heslin
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To Mary Field French
A dying mother gave to you
Her child a many years ago;
How in your gracious love he grew,
You know, dear, patient heart, you know.
The mother's child you fostered then
Salutes you now and bids you take
These little children of his pen
And love them for the author's sake.
To you I dedicate this book,
And, as you read it line by line,
Upon its faults as kindly look
As you have always looked on mine.
Tardy the offering is and weak;--
Yet were I happy if I knew
These children had the power to speak
My love and gratitude to you.
poem by Eugene Field
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How Mary Grew
With wisdom far beyond her years,
And graver than her wondering peers,
So strong, so mild, combining still
The tender heart and queenly will,
To conscience and to duty true,
So, up from childhood, Mary Grew!
Then in her gracious womanhood
She gave her days to doing good.
She dared the scornful laugh of men,
The hounding mob, the slanderer's pen.
She did the work she found to do,--
A Christian heroine, Mary Grew!
The freed slave thanks her; blessing comes
To her from women's weary homes;
The wronged and erring find in her
Their censor mild and comforter.
The world were safe if but a few
Could grow in grace as Mary Grew!
So, New Year's Eve, I sit and say,
By this low wood-fire, ashen gray;
Just wishing, as the night shuts down,
That I could hear in Boston town,
In pleasant Chestnut Avenue,
From her own lips, how Mary Grew!
And hear her graceful hostess tell
The silver-voiced oracle
Who lately through her parlors spoke
As through Dodona's sacred oak,
A wiser truth than any told
By Sappho's lips of ruddy gold,--
The way to make the world anew,
Is just to grow--as Mary Grew
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Sonnet II: Bridal Birth
As when desire, long darkling, dawns, and first
The mother looks upon the newborn child,
Even so my Lady stood at gaze and smiled
When her soul knew at length the Love it nurs'd.
Born with her life, creature of poignant thirst
And exquisite hunger, at her heart Love lay
Quickening in darkness, till a voice that day
Cried on him, and the bonds of birth were burst.
Now, shadowed by his wings, our faces yearn
Together, as his full-grown feet now range
The grove, and his warm hands our couch prepare:
Till to his song our bodiless souls in turn
Be born his children, when Death's nuptial change
Leaves us for light the halo of his hair.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Mystical Light
Sweet breath of an angel
In perfect harmony and peace
As you glory in his presence
your rapture does increase
Touched by the aura from Heaven
spread around you from a child you grew
You can dwell upon that angel child
from the time that you were new
You rose on high so young and raw
from the depths of the earth
you came
Now you live in this heavenly place
that always stays the same
Tinkerbelle they call her
your little angel girl
she stays close by you always
For around you she will twirl
You are her angel Mother
She your child of light
Sleep now angel mother
I'll watch over you tonight
The touch of an angel is something
we all crave
The feeling that we are being protected
and watched over each day and night
gives us spiritual warmth.
I have met angels I think
I have felt their close embrace
their beauty their radiance
which is beyond comprehension
Yes I think I have felt an
angel hug
Yes I have felt their gentle kiss
for I have had my soul awakened
and my eyes opened to their presence
poem by Janice M Pickett
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Child, Child
Child, child, love while you can
The voice and the eyes and the soul of a man;
Never fear though it break your heart --
Out of the wound new joy will start;
Only love proudly and gladly and well,
Though love be heaven or love be hell.
Child, child, love while you may,
For life is short as a happy day;
Never fear the thing you feel --
Only by love is life made real;
Love, for the deadly sins are seven,
Only through love will you enter heaven.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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The Organist
In his dim chapel day by day
The organist was wont to play,
And please himself with fluted reveries;
And all the spirit's joy and strife,
The longing of a tender life,
Took sound and form upon the ivory keys;
And though he seldom spoke a word,
The simple hearts that loved him heard
His glowing soul in these.
One day as he wrapped, a sound
Of feet stole near; he turned and found
A little maid that stood beside him there.
She started, and in shrinking-wise
Besought him with her liquid eyes
And little features, very sweet and spare.
'You love the music, child,' he said,
And laid his hand upon her head,
And smoothed her matted hair.
She answered, 'At the door one day
I sat and heard the organ play;
I did not dare to come inside for fear;
But yesterday, a little while,
I crept half up the empty aisle
And heard the music sounding sweet and clear;
To-day I thought you would not mind,
For, master dear, your face was kind,
And so I came up here.'
'You love the music then,' he said,
And still he stroked her golden head,
And followed out some winding reverie;
'And you are poor?' said he at last;
The maiden nodded, and he passed
His hand across his forehead dreamingly;
'And will you be my friend?' he spake,
'And on the organ learn to make
Grand music here with me?'
And all the little maiden's face
Was kindled with a grateful grace;
'Oh, master, teach me; I will slave for thee!'
She cried; and so the child grew dear
To him, and slowly year by year
He taught her all the organ's majesty;
And gave her from his slender store
Bread and warm clothing, that no more
Her cheeks were pinched to see.
And year by year the maiden grew
Taller and lovelier, and the hue
Deepened upon her tender cheeks untried.
Rounder, and queenlier, and more fair
Her form grew, and her golden hair
Fell yearly richer at the master's side.
In speech and bearing, form and face,
Sweeter and graver, grace by grace,
Her beauties multiplied.
And sometimes at his work a glow
Would touch him, and he murmured low
'How beautiful she is?' and bent his head;
And sometimes when the day went by
And brought no maiden he would sigh,
And lean and listen to her velvet tread;
And he would drop his hands and say,
'My music cometh not to-day;
Pray God she be not dead!'
So the sweet maiden filled his heart,
And with her growing grew his art,
For day by day more wondrously he played.
Such heavenly things the master wrought,
That in his happy dreams he thought,
The organ's self did love the gold-haired maid:
But she, the maiden, never guessed-
What prayers for her in hours of rest
The sombre organ prayed.
At last, one summer morning fair,
The maiden came with braided hair,
And took his hands, and held them eagerly.
'To-morrow is my wedding day;
Dear master, bless me that the way
Of life be smooth, not bitter unto me.'
He stirred not; but the light did go
Out of his shrunken cheeks, and oh!
His head hung heavily.
'You love him, then?' 'I love him well,'
She answered, and a numbness fell
Upon his eyes and all his heart that bled.
A glory, half a smile, abode
Within the maiden's eyes and glowed
Upon her parted lips. The master said,
'God bless and bless thee, little maid,
With peace and long delight,' and laid
His hands upon her head.
And she was gone; and all that day
The hours crept up and slipped away,
And he sat still, as moveless as a stone.
The night came down, with quiet stars,
And darkened him: in coloured bars
Along the shadowy aisle the moonlight shone.
And then the master woke and passed
His hands across the keys at last,
And made the organ moan.
The organ shook, the music wept;
For sometimes like a wail it crept
In broken moanings down the shadows drear;
And otherwhiles the sound did swell,
And like a sudden tempest fell
Through all the windows wonderful and clear.
The people gathered from the street,
And filled the chapel seat by seat-
They could not choose but hear.
And there they sat till dawning light,
Nor ever stirred to awe. 'To-night,
The master hath a noble mood,' they said.
But on a sudden ceased the sound:
Like ghosts the people gathered round,
And on the keys they found his fallen head.
The silent organ had received
The master's broken heart relieved,
And he was white and dead.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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