Emma's Dell
A poet roamed by rushing brook
Early springtime morning. The sound
Seemed softer than it should,
Tempered by, tempering,
Eager buds, new greens all around.
Still bare trees, they tempered too.
Contrast breeds content.
Then round a turn mad rushing brook
Maddened beast and bird.
Sound seemed of the air-
Like air, would never cease.
Green seemed of the rocks.
Content is content.
A cottage overlooked the brook.
'My thoughts at least are mine.
I've told them to the shepherds.
How contrast can contain content.
How content is content.
Pondering perhaps my words
Years after we are spent
They'll call the dell not what I call it,
They'll call it WILL'S DELL EMMA.'
poem by Douglas Scotney
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I believe that the brain has evolved over millions of years to be responsive to different kinds of content in the world. Language content, musical content, spatial content, numerical content, etc.
quote by Howard Gardner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It was an April morning: fresh and clear
It was an April morning: fresh and clear
The Rivulet, delighting in its strength,
Ran with a young man's speed; and yet the voice
Of waters which the winter had supplied
Was softened down into a vernal tone.
The spirit of enjoyment and desire,
And hopes and wishes, from all living things
Went circling, like a multitude of sounds.
The budding groves seemed eager to urge on
The steps of June; as if their various hues
Were only hindrances that stood between
Them and their object: but, meanwhile, prevailed
Such an entire contentment in the air
That every naked ash, and tardy tree
Yet leafless, showed as if the countenance
With which it looked on this delightful day
Were native to the summer.--Up the brook
I roamed in the confusion of my heart,
Alive to all things and forgetting all.
At length I to a sudden turning came
In this continuous glen, where down a rock
The Stream, so ardent in its course before,
Sent forth such sallies of glad sound, that all
Which I till then had heard, appeared the voice
Of common pleasure: beast and bird, the lamb,
The shepherd's dog, the linnet and the thrush
Vied with this waterfall, and made a song,
Which, while I listened, seemed like the wild growth
Or like some natural produce of the air,
That could not cease to be. Green leaves were here;
But 'twas the foliage of the rocks--the birch,
The yew, the holly, and the bright green thorn,
With hanging islands of resplendent furze:
And, on a summit, distant a short space,
By any who should look beyond the dell,
A single mountain-cottage might be seen.
I gazed and gazed, and to myself I said,
'Our thoughts at least are ours; and this wild nook,
My EMMA, I will dedicate to thee.'
----Soon did the spot become my other home,
My dwelling, and my out-of-doors abode.
And, of the Shepherds who have seen me there,
To whom I sometimes in our idle talk
Have told this fancy, two or three, perhaps,
Years after we are gone and in our graves,
When they have cause to speak of this wild place,
May call it by the name of EMMA'S DELL.
poem by William Wordsworth
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Bess
A dress that speaks of life,
The frayed edges hang like bar codes
Spelling out her past.
Bess was content.
Her flowing auburn hair a distant memory,
Now replaced by black and white,
The colours of her age.
Bess was content.
Half way down her nose her glasses sat,
With flour coated fingerprint etched lenses
Betraying this morning's cooking
Bess was still content
Soft slippers now where once heels were worn,
Her stoop a testament to such fashion
The hips a little broader now,
Bess was still content.
Here she was, all that she could be,
A wife, a mother, a nurse, a listener, a lover
But all the time that dress said more than that
Bess was still content
Then in the background voices came to life,
Such laughter only youngsters make,
The door flies open 'Mum we are home! '
Bess just smiled that smile... so content.
poem by Dave James
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Before The Fair
'Lost,' 'lost,' the beeves and the bullocks,
The cattle men sell and buy,
Crowded upon the fair green,
Low to the lightless sky.
'Live,' 'live,' and 'Here,' 'here,' the blackbird
From the top of the bare ash-tree,
Over the acres whistles
With beak of yellow blee.
And climbing, turning, and climbing
His little stair of sound,
'Content,' 'content,' from the low hedge
The redbreast sings in a round.
And I who hear that hedge-song
Will fare with all the rest,
With thoughts of lust and labour,
And bargain in my breast.
The bare hedge bright with rain-drops
That have not fallen down,
The golden-crowded whin-bush
Nor know these things my own!
poem by Padraic Colum
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Sweet are the Thoughts that Savour of Content
Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;
The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent;
The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown:
Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss,
Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.
The homely house that harbours quiet rest;
The cottage that affords no pride nor care;
The mean that 'grees with country music best;
The sweet consort of mirth and music's fare;
Obscured life sets down a type of bliss:
A mind content both crown and kingdom is.
poem by Robert Greene
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Farewell to Folly
1 Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;
2 The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
3 Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent;
4 The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown:
5 Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss,
6 Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.
7 The homely house that harbours quiet rest;
8 The cottage that affords no pride nor care;
9 The mean that 'grees with country music best;
10 The sweet consort of mirth and music's fare;
11 Obscured life sets down a type of bliss:
12 A mind content both crown and kingdom is.
poem by Robert Greene
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Maesia's Song
SWEET are the thoughts that savor of content;
The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent;
The poor estate scorns Fortune's angry frown.
Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss,
Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.
The homely house that harbors quiet rest;
The cottage that affords no pride nor care;
The mean that 'grees with country music best;
The sweet consort of mirth and music's fare;
Obscurèd life sets down a type of bliss:
A mind content both crown and kingdom is.
poem by Robert Greene
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To The Cricket
Didst thou not tease and fret me to and fro,
Sweet spirit of this summer-circled field,
With that quiet voice of thine that would not yield
Its meaning, though I mused and sought it so?
But now I am content to let it go,
To lie at length and watch the swallows pass,
As blithe and restful as this quiet grass,
Content only to listen and to know
That years shall turn, and summers yet shall shine,
And I shall lie beneath these swaying trees,
Still listening thus; haply at last to seize,
And render in some happier verse divine
That friendly, homely, haunting speech of thine,
That perfect utterance of content and ease.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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For These
An acre of land between the shore and the hills,
Upon a ledge that shows my kingdoms three,
The lovely visible earth and sky and sea
Where what the curlew needs not, the farmer tills:
A house that shall love me as I love it,
Well-hedged, and honoured by a few ash trees
That linnets, greenfinches, and goldfinches
Shall often visit and make love in and flit:
A garden I need never go beyond,
Broken but neat, whose sunflowers every one
Are fit to be the sign of the Rising Sun:
A spring, a brook's bend, or at least a pond:
For these I ask not, but, neither too late
Nor yet too early, for what men call content,
And also that something may be sent
To be contented with, I ask of Fate.
poem by Edward Thomas
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I was as content Off-Broadway as I was in a big Hollywood movie, and, I just try to be content wherever I am, you know.
quote by James Earl Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Continent content
in content consensual
dissent incontinent.
haiku by Jonathan Robin (01 October 2006)
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I'm content to stand on tradition. I'm even more content to wipe my feet on it.
quote by Aaron Allston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To be content with little is hard; to be content with much, impossible.
quote by Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach
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We often get blinded by the forms in which content is produced, rather than the job that the content does.
quote by Tim O'Reilly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He is richest who is content with the least, for content is the wealth of nature.
After All There Is No Route To This And That
after all these, you stand alone to be judged, and you think
this has something to do with content, your flesh and bone, your words
and deeds, the meaning of what you want to tell them,
you get it all wrong and the world of magic and imagination laughs
you have not done them wrong
you have not done them right either
you may not believe this and that
but rightly so, the passing wind, the flowing river, the moving sea
the breathing baby, the sleeping meadows,
all these, including the eternal movement of the galaxies,
the unbending light, the constant ebbing and growing of the tides
all these, must have given you the hint of the truth
it is in the flowing of the sound, it is in the journey
of all things and thoughts
these make our world, all these, not the content but the style
the art, not the words but how you sing it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mirage
How is it that, being gone, you fill my days,
And all the long nights are made glad by thee?
No loneliness is this, nor misery,
But great content that these should be the ways
Whereby the Fancy, dreaming as she strays,
Makes bright and present what she would would be.
And who shall say if the reality
Is not with dreams so pregnant. For delays
And hindrances may bar the wished-for end;
A thousand misconceptions may prevent
Our souls from coming near enough to blend;
Let me but think we have the same intent,
That each one needs to call the other, "friend!"
It may be vain illusion. I'm content.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Seriously, we are in the midst of the convergence of voice and data and that is challenging the infrastructure of the telephone companies. There are huge commercial interests in the basic technology, but even more so in content delivery and control of content.
quote by Steve Crocker
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Licia Sonnets 38
Sweet, I protest, and seal it with an oath:
I never saw that so my thoughts did please;
And yet content displeased I see them wroth
To love so much and cannot have their ease.
I told my thoughts, my sovereign made a pause,
Disposed to grant, but willing to delay;
They then repined, for that they knew no cause,
And swore they wished she flatly would say nay.
Thus hath my love my thoughts with treason filled,
And 'gainst my sovereign taught them to repine.
So thus my treason all my thoughts hath killed,
And made fair Licia say she is not mine.
But thoughts too rash my heart doth now repent;
And as you please, they swear, they are content.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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A Day Of Feeling
Started the day feeling content
Feel so at peace with everything
A rare quiet time of the day
Feeling down in the middle of the day
It all started with conversation
of repair needed for the house
Follow by words exchange
& a word or two here & there
Ended the day feeling happy & sad
Happy 'cause words of love & tenderness
That always brighten up my day
Sad 'cause of drama that makes me sad
Silly though it sound, Still's the feeling there
What a day this was
Content & peace
Ups & downs
Happy & sad
All in a day
poem by Josephine Lee
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