I Abide and Abide and Better Abide
I abide and abide and better abide,
And after the old proverb, the happy day;
And ever my lady to me doth say,
'Let me alone and I will provide.'
I abide and abide and tarry the tide,
And with abiding speed well ye may.
Thus do I abide I wot alway,
Nother obtaining nor yet denied.
Ay me! this long abiding
Seemeth to me, as who sayeth,
A prolonging of a dying death,
Or a refusing of a desir'd thing.
Much were it better for to be plain
Than to say 'abide' and yet shall not obtain.
poem by David McKee Wright
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Related quotes
I Abide and Abide and Better Abide
I abide and abide and better abide,
And after the old proverb, the happy day;
And ever my lady to me doth say,
'Let me alone and I will provide.'
I abide and abide and tarry the tide,
And with abiding speed well ye may.
Thus do I abide I wot alway,
Nother obtaining nor yet denied.
Ay me! this long abiding
Seemeth to me, as who sayeth,
A prolonging of a dying death,
Or a refusing of a desir'd thing.
Much were it better for to be plain
Than to say 'abide' and yet shall not obtain.
poem by Sir Thomas Wyatt
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Abide and Abide and Better Abide
I abide and abide and better abide,
And after the old proverb, the happy day;
And ever my lady to me doth say,
"Let me alone and I will provide."
I abide and abide and tarry the tide,
And with abiding speed well ye may.
Thus do I abide I wot alway,
Nother obtaining nor yet denied.
Ay me! this long abiding
Seemeth to me, as who sayeth,
A prolonging of a dying death,
Or a refusing of a desir'd thing.
Much were it better for to be plain
Than to say "abide" and yet shall not obtain.
poem by Sir Thomas Wyatt
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Abide With Me
Abide with us: for it is towards evening, and the day is far spent. -- Luke xxiv.29
Abide with me! Fast falls the Eventide;
The darkness thickens. Lord, with me abide
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me!
Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away:
Change and decay in all around I see.
O Thou who changest not, abide with me!
Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word;
But as Thou dwellst with thy disciples, Lord,
Familiar, condescending, patient, free, --
Come, not to sojourn, but abide with me.
Come not in terrors, as the King of kings;
But kind and good, with healing in Thy wings,
Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea.
Come, Friend of sinners and thus bide with me.
Thou on my head in early youth did smile,
And though rebellious and perverse meanwhile,
Thou hast not left me, oft as I left Thee.
On to the close, O Lord, abide with me!
I need thy presence every passing hour.
What but thy grace can foil the Tempter's power?
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, O, abide with me!
I fear no foe with thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death's sting? where grave thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.
Hold then thy cross before my closing eyes;
Speak through the gloom, and point me to the skies.
Heaven's morning breaks, and Earth's vain shadows flee!
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me!
poem by Henry Francis Lyte
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Life Abide Death
life abide death
death abides the law of life
abide the law of life
and death will abide life
abide the law of death
and death will abide life
poem by Cynthia Sok
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On The Edge Of The Wilderness
Puellae.
Whence comest thou, and whither goest thou?
Abide! abide! longer the shadows grow;
What hopest thou the dark to thee will show?
Abide! abide! for we are happy here.
Amans.
Why should I name the land across the sea
Wherein I first took hold on misery?
Why should I name the land that flees from me?
Let me depart, since ye are happy here.
Puellae.
What wilt thou do within the desert place
Whereto thou turnest now thy careful face?
Stay but a while to tell us of thy case.
Abide! abide! for we are happy here.
Amans.
What, nigh the journey’s end shall I abide,
When in the waste mine own love wanders wide,
When from all men for me she still doth hide?
Let me depart, since ye are happy here.
Puellae.
Nay, nay; but rather she forgetteth thee,
To sit upon the shore of some warm sea,
Or in green gardens where sweet fountains be.
Abide! abide! for we are happy here.
Amans.
Will ye then keep me from the wilderness,
Where I at least, alone with my distress,
The quiet land of changing dreams may bless?
Let me depart, since ye are happy here.
Puellae.
Forget the false forgetter and be wise,
And ’mid these clinging hands and loving eyes,
Dream, not in vain, thou knowest paradise.
Abide! abide! for we are happy here.
Amans.
Ah! with your sweet eyes shorten not the day,
Nor let your gentle hands my journey stay!
Perchance love is not wholly cast away.
Let me depart, since ye are happy here.
Puellae.
Pluck love away as thou wouldst pluck a thorn
From out thy flesh; for why shouldst thou be born
To bear a life so wasted and forlorn?
Abide! abide! for we are happy here.
Amans.
Yea, why then was I born, since hope is pain,
And life a lingering death, and faith but vain,
And love the loss of all I seemed to gain?
Let me depart, since ye are happy here.
Puellae.
Dost thou believe that this shall ever be,
That in our land no face thou e’er shalt see,
No voice thou e’er shalt hear to gladden thee?
Abide! abide! for we are happy here.
Amans.
No longer do I know of good or bad,
I have forgotten that I once was glad;
I do but chase a dream that I have had.
Let me depart, since ye are happy here.
Puellae.
Stay! take one image for thy dreamful night;
Come, look at her, who in the world’s despite
Weeps for delaying love and lost delight.
Abide! abide! for we are happy here.
Amans.
Mock me not till to-morrow. Mock the dead,
They will not heed it, or turn round the head,
To note who faithless are, and who are wed.
Let me depart, since ye are happy here.
Puellae.
We mock thee not. Hast thou not heard of those
Whose faithful love the loved heart holds so close,
That death must wait till one word lets it loose?
Abide! abide! for we are happy here.
Amans.
I hear you not: the wind from off the waste
Sighs like a song that bids me make good haste
The wave of sweet forgetfulness to taste.
Let me depart, since ye are happy here.
Puellae.
Come back! like such a singer is the wind,
As to a sad tune sings fair words and kind,
That he with happy tears all eyes may blind!
Abide! abide! for we are happy here.
Amans.
Did I not hear her sweet voice cry from far,
That o’er the lonely waste fair fields there are,
Fair days that know not any change or care?
Let me depart, since ye are happy here.
Puellae.
Oh, no! not far thou heardest her, but nigh;
Nigh, ’twixt the waste’s edge and the darkling sky.
Turn back again, too soon it is to die.
Abide! a little while be happy here.
Amans.
How with the lapse of lone years could I strive,
And can I die now that thou biddest live?
What joy this space ’twixt birth and death can give.
Can we depart, who are so happy here?
poem by William Morris
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In Atlantic City
I have what you need!
Lower, slower, shower, flower, mower;
But, it is not too late to learn!
And, it is not too late for you to abide by the laws.
Bid, abide!
Greetings to Ethel Flint Yeboah;
Sand, sandy!
In Atlantic City;
And like a day after the storm!
But, i do thank you all for listening to me.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Am I a Heretic?
Abide with me fast falls the eventide.
My boredom deepens momentarily.
There must be more to life than the T.V
I sometimes watch but I choose carefully
The darkness deepens lord abide with me.
Boredom remains the ancient enemy
I have to choose so therefore I decide
Only to watch what I want to see.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee.
Then and only then do I watch T.V.
Most programmes offered don’t appeal to me
I can go without watching very easily.
Help of the helpless oh abide with me.
Books are my salvation as they ought to be
I have a collection of fine poetry
I can choose what suits my mood easily.
Wednesday,31 March 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I Have Always Wanted The Sea To Be Calm
i have long wanted the sea to be calm
but they too have to comply with the changes of the seasons
abide by the rages of the storm
and throw of the tornado
the weird whirlwinds
the cyclic cyclones
the typical typhoons
i always envy the stones
they belong to no one and they abide to none.
they have no feelings and so they are not hurt.
they do not have the heart, and so they do not take the risk of loving.
i envy their stares, they do not blink, neither do they wink.
they roll and never break.
and sometimes they are carved and worshiped as gods.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Then I Will Abide...
when justice no longer has a color,
and is not defined by economic status,
religious or sexual preference,
then i will abide by your laws!
when freedom is as real in the alleys,
the dumpsters, and on the streets
as it is in your brick houses,
then i will believe in your freedom.
when all men and women,
of all colors and ages,
are treated with equal dignity
and with respect,
then i will stand for your equality.
when each of you can look
into the eyes of your neighbor,
and see God...
then i will abide in your humanity!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Do Not Adapt
Do not adapt to the changes in this lane,
The aborted sins of our fathers are scary;
They abide beneath the streams of your deeds,
Achieving the real aches of a day.
To abide in the reality forces me to think
Of wages and wealth, toil and health;
What do people think this day?
When scariness rides the wave, does the self?
Do not scare anyone, afterwards,
And say the relief of a hundred generations,
Accuse nobody above the realm.
This day exactly undoes the days preceding it,
But scaring someone is committing a sin after sin.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Too Late For Prayin
It was only yesterday
When I heard the teacher say
Patiently, one and two make three
We were children, you and me
Let us pray for the ones they call
The children of today
Nothin left but promises
Nothin much is certain
All we see is want and need across the board, why thank you lord
Were livin in the glory of your care
Skies of blue have all turned brown
To the sound of cryin
Lord abide, let us stem the tide
Of broken dreams
Sometimes you seem to tell us
Its too late for prayin
See the ocean wild and blue
Think of all thats in her
She will not surrender to the likes of us, but then she must
They tell us, wise men tell us, its too late
For each child with eyes that smile
Therell be ten more cryin
Lord abide, let us stem the time
Of helplessness
But then I guess were livin
Is it too late for prayin
Nothin here but grains of sand
Nothin much worth savin
Guess weve all got problems of our own to bear, and still we share
Tomorrow could get better than today
To the ones whove loved in vain
Will ya be beholden
Lord abide, let us stem the tide
Of broken dreams
Sometimes ya seem to tell us
Its too late for prayin
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The rocks abide
The rocks abide.
The wind swept crags command a view.
Across the rolling countryside
Where there is always something new.
Though seasons change the rocks abide.
The greening of the land in spring
Which turns to gold beneath the sun.
Then autumn changes everything.
A colour to suit everyone.
From this vantage point I see
The spring the summer and the fall.
Then winter with its stark beauty
My favourite season of them all.
An empty world of pristine white.
All blemishes hid from my sight.
Monday,10 October 2011
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Song Of The Chattahoochee
Out of the hills of Habersham,
Down the valleys of Hall,
I hurry amain to reach the plain,
Run the rapid and leap the fall,
Split at the rock and together again,
Accept my bed, or narrow or wide,
And flee from folly on every side
With a lover's pain to attain the plain
Far from the hills of Habersham,
Far from the valleys of Hall.
All down the hills of Habersham,
All through the valleys of Hall,
The rushes cried `Abide, abide,'
The willful waterweeds held me thrall,
The laving laurel turned my tide,
The ferns and the fondling grass said `Stay,'
The dewberry dipped for to work delay,
And the little reeds sighed `Abide, abide,
Here in the hills of Habersham,
Here in the valleys of Hall.'
High o'er the hills of Habersham,
Veiling the valleys of Hall,
The hickory told me manifold
Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall
Wrought me her shadowy self to hold,
The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine,
Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign,
Said, `Pass not, so cold, these manifold
Deep shades of the hills of Habersham,
These glades in the valleys of Hall.'
And oft in the hills of Habersham,
And oft in the valleys of Hall,
The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook-stone
Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl,
And many a luminous jewel lone
- Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist,
Ruby, garnet and amethyst -
Made lures with the lights of streaming stone
In the clefts of the hills of Habersham,
In the beds of the valleys of Hall.
But oh, not the hills of Habersham,
And oh, not the valleys of Hall
Avail: I am fain for to water the plain.
Downward the voices of Duty call -
Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main,
The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn,
And a myriad flowers mortally yearn,
And the lordly main from beyond the plain
Calls o'er the hills of Habersham,
Calls through the valleys of Hall.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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The Song Of The Chattahoochee
Out of the hills of Habersham,
Down the valleys of Hall,
I hurry amain to reach the plain,
Run the rapid and leap the fall,
Split at the rock and together again,
Accept my bed, or narrow or wide,
And flee from folly on every side
With a lover's pain to attain the plain
Far from the hills of Habersham,
Far from the valleys of Hall.
All down the hills of Habersham,
All through the valleys of Hall,
The rushes cried `Abide, abide,'
The willful waterweeds held me thrall,
The laving laurel turned my tide,
The ferns and the fondling grass said `Stay,'
The dewberry dipped for to work delay,
And the little reeds sighed `Abide, abide,
Here in the hills of Habersham,
Here in the valleys of Hall.'
High o'er the hills of Habersham,
Veiling the valleys of Hall,
The hickory told me manifold
Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall
Wrought me her shadowy self to hold,
The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine,
Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign,
Said, `Pass not, so cold, these manifold
Deep shades of the hills of Habersham,
These glades in the valleys of Hall.'
And oft in the hills of Habersham,
And oft in the valleys of Hall,
The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook-stone
Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl,
And many a luminous jewel lone
-- Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist,
Ruby, garnet and amethyst --
Made lures with the lights of streaming stone
In the clefts of the hills of Habersham,
In the beds of the valleys of Hall.
But oh, not the hills of Habersham,
And oh, not the valleys of Hall
Avail: I am fain for to water the plain.
Downward the voices of Duty call --
Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main,
The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn,
And a myriad flowers mortally yearn,
And the lordly main from beyond the plain
Calls o'er the hills of Habersham,
Calls through the valleys of Hall.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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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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Sideline Powdering
They all say
that Love Won't-
Won't happen
for me.
They all say
even if it did
I'd be Unworthy.
They all say
I'm Ugly Image
and Fair
will pass me
every time.
I say you can't see or measure
worth
from exteriors
flaunted
and flirts displayed
for my faith is
that what's good inside
will abide
and gain it's due in time.
Prettiness
is Fickle True
and lacks Devotion
to last;
just as it attracts
flies
it too
can not abide
worship
from beaus
who
in time
fail to satisfy.
Steady Devotion
is Love's True Name
for like the tortoise
is there
at the end of the race
while Pretty
lingers
on the sidelines
powdering
its pretty face
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Vine and The Branches
Friend, Jesus Christ is the Vine, Christians are but the branches.
And The Lord is indeed Divine, and through all our circumstances.
The Lord Jesus is over all time, and with Him there are no chances.
And as my Savior, He is mine, and it is in Christ I take my stances.
Sure and faithful is Jesus Christ, for The Lord is true and He is just.
Jesus is the very Savior of my life, and in The Lord I place my trust,
As I go through pain and strife, abiding is not an option, it’s a must.
My very being I owe to Christ, for my frame my friend, it is but dust.
When I asked Jesus into my life, He entered my heart to live inside.
To the Living Vine of Jesus Christ, as a branch, in Him I must abide.
And as I go through pain and strife, by Jesus Christ, I’m not denied.
For in my trial I know that Christ, is the fortress in whom I can hide.
It is through the Vine of Jesus Christ, I receive strength and power.
It is there to tap throughout my life, in every day and in every hour.
Friend, when I walk into strife, a peace pours on me like a shower.
And as I hold fast to Jesus Christ, I have no need to fear or cower.
So come from any circumstance, to Christ the Vine and be a branch.
And even though we are but dust, in Him we can have Eternal Trust.
If in your heart, Christ is not denied, with Him you will eternally abide.
Come make a choice this very hour, and be filled with eternal power.
Lucinda Wrobel
L ight and laughter bona fide,
U nderstanding without pride,
C herish others, never hide
I n a rut, but help provide.
N ever fail, take all in stride,
D o not let impatience chide,
A nd life with joy will be supplied.
W ork that happiness abide,
R ighteousness on every side,
O ffer aid to those denied.
B eauty within with truth outside,
E vil everywhere defied,
L ife in triumph meets each tide.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Punishable
Playing any sort of role
Is a crime and punishable
Do not indulge in crimes.
Do not aid and abet criminals
It is a crime and punishable
Do not indulge in crimes.
Abide by the rules and regulations
If you can not abide by rules
It is abhorrent and is a crimes
And punishable
Do not indulge in crimes
Do not indulge in crimes
If you are really a human being.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Poetic Places
Poetic places of the soul
hide me, confide me and abide me
though I am not
as they seem to think I am
not what I was before.
And the dark places cover and conceal
and serve to heal.
A shining truth
that never was
and always will be
my abiding and hiding
poetic soul.
poem by Meli Secret
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