The Last Ditch
LOVE, through your varied views on Art
Untiring have I followed you,
Content to know I had your heart
And was your Art-ideal, too.
As, dear, I was when first we met.
('Twas at the time you worshipped Leighton,
And were attempting to forget
Your Foster and your Noel Paton.)
'Love rhymes with Art,' said your dear voice,
And, at my crude, uncultured age,
I could but blushingly rejoice
That you had passed the Rubens stage.
When Madox Brown and Morris swayed
Your taste, did I not dress and look
Like any Middle Ages maid
In an illuminated book?
I wore strange garments, without shame,
Of formless form and toneless tones,
I might have stepped out of the frame
Of a Rossetti or Burne-Jones.
I stole soft frills from Marcus Stone,
My waist wore Herkomer's disguise,
My slender purse was strained, I own,
But--my silk lay as Sargent's lies.
And when you were abroad--in Prague--
'Mid Cherets I had shone, a star;
Then for your sake I grew as vague
As Mr. Whistler's ladies are.
But now at last you sue in vain,
For here a life's submission ends:
Not even for you will I grow plain
As Aubrey Beardsley's 'lady friends.'
Here I renounce your hand--unless
You find your Art-ideal elsewhere;
I will not wear the kind of dress
That Laurence Housman's people wear!
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Raspberry Beret
1 2 1 2 3
Yeah
I was working part time in a five-and-dime
My boss was mr. mcgee
He told me several times that he didnt like my kind
cause I was a bit 2 leisurely
Seems that I was busy doing something close 2 nothing
But different than the day before
Thats when I saw her, ooh, I saw her
She walked in through the out door, out door
She wore a
Raspberry beret
The kind u find in a second hand store
Raspberry beret
And if it was warm she wouldnt wear much more
Raspberry beret
I think I love her
Built like she was
She had the nerve 2 ask me
If I planned 2 do her any harm
So, look here
I put her on the back of my bike
And-a we went riding
Down by old man johnsons farm
I said now, overcast days never turned me on
But something about the clouds and her mixed
She wasnt 2 bright
But I could tell when she kissed me
She knew how 2 get her kicks
She wore a
Raspberry beret
The kind u find in a second hand store
Raspberry beret
And if it was warm she wouldnt wear much more
Raspberry beret
I think I love her
The rain sounds so cool when it hits the barn roof
And the horses wonder who u are
Thunder drowns out what the lightning sees
U feel like a movie star
Listen
They say the first time aint the greatest
But I tell ya
If I had the chance 2 do it all again
I wouldnt change a stroke
cause baby Im the most
With a girl as fine as she was then
(raspberry beret)
The kind u find (the kind u find)
The kind u find (in a second hand store)
Oh no no
(raspberry beret)
(and if it was warm)
Where have all the raspberry women gone? (she wouldnt wear much more)
Yeah (raspberry beret)
I think i... I think i... I think I love her
(raspberry beret)
No no no
No no no (the kind u find)
(in a second hand store)
(raspberry beret)
Tell me
Where have all the raspberry women gone? (and if it was warm she)
(wouldnt wear much more)
(raspberry beret)
I think I love...
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Win The World
Written by: neil diamond and susan longacre
I never noticed when you changed your hair
Just another of those moments, I was only half there
When you wore that red dress, that was kinda up to here
I never noticed, you were wearing a tear
I was always trying to win the world
What on earth was I thinking of
One time too often, I didnt hold you enough
I was always trying to win the world
But somewhere I lost you, I never saw you
Only trying to win my love
It should have been easy, for all of those times
It would have been me there, if I knew the signs
When you wore that red dress, how could I know then
Youd wear it for me once, and never wear it again
I was always trying to win the world
What on earth was I thinking of
One time too often, I didnt hold you enough
I was always trying to win the world
But somewhere I lost you, cause I never saw you
Only trying to win my love
Somewhere I lost you, cause I never saw you
Only trying to win my love
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crying In Your Wedding Dress
The roads always run wet this time of year
Not with rain - with tears
Crying in your wedding dress
Tearing your hair out
The park was always freezing-over around now
Not with winter - with the pain
Of pulling off your ring
Screaming your lungs out
You wore that dress for 16 hours
You wore it too long
You wore it when you arrived
And you wore it when you woke up
I wore my invisible jacket
My invisible trousers
My invisible smile
All day
On our wedding day
The prototype for this event
The blueprint of this heart-ache
Is sketched so deeply in my mind
There was no other way it could be
On our wedding day
I was walking, drunk, stumbling
You were crying in your wedding dress
I was gone, I was never really there
You were crying in your wedding dress
I was broke for any feeling
You were broke for any hope
Crying in your wedding dress
On our wedding day
(2008)
poem by B. Alexander
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Finery
IN an elegant frock, trimm'd with beautiful lace,
And hair nicely curl'd, hanging over her face,
Young Fanny went out to the house of a friend,
With a large little party the evening to spend.
'Ah! how they will all be delighted, I guess,
And stare with surprise at my handsome new dress!'
Thus said the vain girl, and her little heart beat,
Impatient the happy young party to meet.
But, alas! they were all too intent on their play
To observe the fine clothes of this lady so gay,
And thus all her trouble quite lost its design;–
For they saw she was proud, but forgot she was fine.
'Twas Lucy, though only in simple white clad,
(Nor trimmings, nor laces, nor jewels, she had,)
Whose cheerful good-nature delighted them more
Than Fanny and all the fine garments she wore.
'Tis better to have a sweet smile on one's face,
Than to wear a fine frock with an elegant lace,
For the good-natured girl is loved best in the main,
If her dress is but decent, though ever so plain.
poem by Ann Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Finery
In an elegant frock, trimm'd with beautiful lace,
And hair nicely curl'd, hanging over her face,
Young Fanny went out to the house of a friend,
With a large little party the evening to spend.
"Ah! how they will all be delighted, I guess,
And stare with surprise at my handsome new dress!"
Thus said the vain girl, and her little heart beat,
Impatient the happy young party to meet.
But, alas! they were all too intent on their play
To observe the fine clothes of this lady so gay,
And thus all her trouble quite lost its design;
For they saw she was proud, but forgot she was fine.
'Twas Lucy, though only in simple white clad,
(Nor trimmings, nor laces, nor jewels, she had,)
Whose cheerful good-nature delighted them more
Than Fanny and all the fine garments she wore.
'Tis better to have a sweet smile on one's face,
Than to wear a fine frock with an elegant lace,
For the good-natured girl is loved best in the main,
If her dress is but decent, though ever so plain.
poem by Jane Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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First Love
My long first year of perfect love,
My deep new dream of joy; She was a little chubby girl,
I was a chubby boy.
I wore a crimson frock, white drawers,
A belt, a crown was on it;
She wore some angel's kind of dress
And such a tiny bonnet,
Old-fashioned, but the soft brown hair Would never keep its place;
A little maid with violet eyes,
And sunshine in her face.
O my child-queen, in those lost days
How sweet was daily living!
How humble and how proud I grew,
How rich by merely giving!
She went to school, the parlour-maid
Slow stepping to her trot;
That parlour-maid, ah, did she feel
How lofty was her lot!
Across the road I saw her lift
My Queen, and with a sigh
I envied Raleigh; my new coat
Was hung a peg too high.
A hoard of never-given gifts
I cherished, priceless pelf;
'Twas two whole days ere I devoured
That peppermint myself.
In Church I only prayed for her
'O God bless Lucy Hill;'
Child, may His angels keep their arms
Ever around you still.
But when the hymn came round, with heart
That feared some heart's surprising
Its secret sweet, I climbed the seat
'Mid rustling and uprising;
And there against her mother's arm
The sleeping child was leaning,
While far away the hymn went on,
The music and the meaning.
Oh I loved with more of pain
Since then, with more of passion,
Loved with the aching in my love
After our grown-up fashion;
Yet could I almost be content
To lose here at your feet
A year or two, you murmuring elm,
To dream a dream so sweet.
poem by Edward Dowden
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let Me Sleep Beside You
Baby, baby, brush the dust of youth from your shoulder
Because the years of fretting days are right behind you now
Dont return to fields of green where rainbow secrets were told
Place your ragged doll with all the toys and things and deeds
I will show you a game where the winner never wins
Let your hair hang down, wear the dress your mother wore
Let me sleep beside you
Lock away your childhood and throw away the key
For now the streets and city sounds will burn your eyes as coals
We shall drink the oldest wine and velvet skies will linger
Child, youre a woman now, your heart and soul are free
I will boldly light that lamp and we shall walk together
Let your hair hang down, wear the dress your mother wore
Let me sleep beside you
Your darkened eyes throw mystery
But your lips are void of history
You could not imagine that it could happen this way, could you
I will give you dreams and Ill tell you things youll like to hear
Let your hair hang down, wear the dress your mother wore
Let me sleep beside you
Let me sleep beside you
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sophia’s Fool’s-Cap
SOPHIA was a little child,
Obliging, good, and very mild,
Yet lest of dress she should be vain,
Mamma still dress'd her well, but plain.
Her parents, sensible and kind,
Wish'd only to adorn her mind;
No other dress, when good, had she,
But useful, neat simplicity.
Though seldom, yet when she was rude,
Or ever in a naughty mood,
Her punishment was this disgrace,
A large fine cap, adorn'd with lace,
With feathers and with ribbons too;
The work was neat, the fashion new,
Yet, as a fool's-cap was its name,
She dreaded much to wear the same.
A lady, fashionably gay,
Did to mamma a visit pay:
Sophia stared, then whisp'ring said,
'Why, dear mamma, look at her head!
To be so tall and wicked too,
The strangest thing I ever knew:
What naughty tricks, pray, has she done,
That they have put that fool's-cap on? '
poem by Ann Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who’ll Wear the Beaten Colours?
Who’ll wear the beaten colours—and cheer the beaten men?
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, till our time comes again?
Where sullen crowds are densest, and fickle as the sea,
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?
We closed the bars and gambling dens and voted straight and clean,
Our women walked while motor cars were whirling round the scene,
The Potts Point Vote was one for Greed and Ease and Luxury
With all to hold, and coward gold, and beaten folk are we.
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, with hands and pockets clean?
(I wore the beaten colours since I was seventeen)
I wore them up, and wore them down, Outback and across the sea—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?
We wore them back from Ladysmith to where the peace was signed,
And wore them through the London streets where Jingoes howled behind.
We wore them to the Queen’s Hall, while England yelled “Pro-Boers!”
And sat them over victory while London banged the doors.1
We wore them from Port Arthur round till all sunk in the sea—
(Who’ll wear the white man’s colours, and wear them home with me?)
I’ve worn them through with gentlemen, with work-slaves and alone—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, boys, and wear them on his own?
There’s one would look with startled eyes and shrink while I caressed,
Came I not with the colours of the conquered on my breast.
And twenty thousand Bushmen would stand with hands behind
And scorn in all their faces for the coward of his kind.
Who’ll wear the beaten colours and raise the voice they drowned—
It may be when we march again, they’ll bear some other sound—
Who’ll pin the beaten colours on and drive the beaten pen—
It may be other steel and ink when we march out again.
poem by Henry Lawson
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First Impressions can be false
The vicar wore a summer frock
when he was preaching to his flock.
His chosen theme intolerance
afforded him the perfect chance.
To openly admit he was
a little different because.
By nature disinclined to fight
the urges which to him felt right.
Confidently masculine.
He did not feel clothes should define
ones sexual identity
and should be viewed more tolerantly.
All deviations from the norm
considered so we might reform
The way we judge our fellow men
It is time to take stock again.
A brawny Scotsman we accept
can wear a kilt we don’t suspect.
that he might be effeminate.
In fact we think that he looks great.
A prime example of a man.
Which only goes to show we can forget
our preconceived ideas.
A man defines the clothes he wears
In days of yore Dandies would dress
in silks and velvet to impress
and would defend with naked steel
the right to dress the way they feel.
I find it hard to understand
why people condemn out of hand
Men who do not seem to care
what you think they ought wear.
A man has every right to dress
in any fashion more nor less.
Women can wear trouser suits
and if they choose to heavy boots.
If your reaction to his clothes
is to suspect he’s one of those
Then you display your ignorance
and complete lack of tolerance.
16-Jan-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Never Wore A Gun Before
Never wore a gun before
A plane in the fog, oh wait those are clouds Im talking about
The suitcase in my hand and the way I have to walk
Those are empty smiles, empty eyes Im looking in
Times are over when it was difficult to say
It took some time but I know its just right now
So just a little word about whats really going on
If you want to take that as my way
To say goodbye to you as these red nights must go on
I was rich and I was poor
Didnt do the things I had to do
I was strong and I was weak
Was not the girl I tried to be
I was lost and I was found
He earned money you couldnt count
But I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
He left the chamber but these times are over
Shes got
Shes got more than four weeks to be herself
Hes playin with fire and looks around on this world
Oh I love them and the plane in the fog
I was brave and I had fear
I did things...oh my dar
I was strong and I was weak
Was not the girl I tried to be
I was up and I was down
He thought the things to the ground
But I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
Never wore a gun before
I was brave and I had fear
I did things...oh my dear
I never wore a gun before
I was brave and I had fear
I did things...oh my dear
I was strong and I was weak
Was not the girl I tried to be
But I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
Never wore a gun before
song performed by by Wonderwall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Wore A Gun Before
Never wore a gun before
A plane in the fog, oh wait those are clouds Im talking about
The suitcase in my hand and the way I have to walk
Those are empty smiles, empty eyes Im looking in
Times are over when it was difficult to say
It took some time but I know its just right now
So just a little word about whats really going on
If you want to take that as my way
To say goodbye to you as these red nights must go on
I was rich and I was poor
Didnt do the things I had to do
I was strong and I was weak
Was not the girl I tried to be
I was lost and I was found
He earned money you couldnt count
But I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
He left the chamber but these times are over
Shes got
Shes got more than four weeks to be herself
Hes playin with fire and looks around on this world
Oh I love them and the plane in the fog
I was brave and I had fear
I did things...oh my dar
I was strong and I was weak
Was not the girl I tried to be
I was up and I was down
He thought the things to the ground
But I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
Never wore a gun before
I was brave and I had fear
I did things...oh my dear
I never wore a gun before
I was brave and I had fear
I did things...oh my dear
I was strong and I was weak
Was not the girl I tried to be
But I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
Never wore a gun before
song performed by by Wonderwall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Will You Remember?
Will you remember the dress I wore?
Will you remember my face?
Will you remember the lipstick I wore?
This world is a wonderful place
Will you remember the black limousine?
Will you remember champagne?
Will you remember the things that weve seen?
I will return here again
Will you remember the flowers in my hand?
Will you remember my hair?
Will you remember the future we planned?
The world is not waiting out there
I wont remember the dress I wore
I wont remember champagne
I wont remember the things that we swore
I will just love you in vain
Will you remember?
Will you recall?
song performed by by Cranberries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Surviving Existence after Seeing Her
Cool cellar wine,
A summer vintage
Of many drunken seasons lovelorn,
I dreamt of kissing her eyes
On midnights scattered now
To oblivion.
Her waist in the moonlight,
She wore a simple dress more majestic
On her frame than a Rembrandt;
I fell victim to the tender ache of desire,
Orgasmic but as soft as a feather.
Jealousy and deprival,
The wearing away of youth
And tragic denial,
If only to weep
One more time beside her
Or study her slender wrists
Again in the sunlight!
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As Ireland Wore the Green
BY RIGHT of birth in southern land I send my warning forth.
I see my country ruined by the wrongs that damned the North.
And shall I stand with fireless eyes and still and silent mouth
While Mammon builds his Londons on the fair fields of the South?
CHORUS:
O must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall we wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland wore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, we will wear our colour still,
As Ireland wore the green!
I see the shade of poverty fall on each sunny scene.
And slums and alley-ways extend where fields were evergreen.
There is a law that stamps the flower of freedom as it springs;
And this upon a soil that’s trod by prouder feet than kings’.
And must I hide my colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall I wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland wore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland swore the green!
Aye, I will wear my colour yet,
As Ireland wore the green!
Out there beyond the lonely range our fathers toiled for years
’Neath all the hardships that beset true-hearted pioneers;
And our brave mothers journeyed there to do the work of men
On those great awful plains that were unfit for women then.
Then must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall we wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland swore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, we shall wear our colour still,
As Ireland wore the green!
O shall the fields our fathers won be yielded to the few
Who never touched the axe or spade, and hardships never knew?
Shall lordly robbers rule the land and build their mansions high,
And ladies flaunt their jewelled plumes where our brave mothers lie?
O must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammnon’s spleen?
Or shall the wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland wore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, the will wear our colour yet,
As Ireland wore the green!
What though our stalwart fathers came from every land on earth,
We will be loyal to the land that gives our children birth.
We’ll show our banner to the sun—the Southern Cross displayed—
And join our strength together for the home our fathers made.
Let cowards hide their colour
For fear of Mammon’s spleen!
But I will wear my bonnie blue
As Ireland swore the green!
As Ireland swore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, I will wear my colour still,
As Ireland swore the green!
We’ll light the lamp of hope above the alley and the slum,
And teach the poor and drill them for the war that is to come.
We’ll send our songs recruiting far beneath the western sky,
And wake the towns and let them know the day of deeds is nigh.
And the twill wear our colour
In spite of Mammon’s spleen!
O the will wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland wore the green!
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, the will wear our colour yet,
As Ireland wore the green!
poem by Henry Lawson
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A Letter Written For My Daughter To A Lady, Who Had Presented Her With A Cap.
Your late kind Gift let me restore;
For I must never wear it more.
My Mother cries, ``What's here to do?
``A Crimson Velvet Cap for you!
``If to these Heights so soon you climb,
``You'll wear a Coachman's Cap in time:
``Perhaps on Palfry pace along,
``With ruffled Shirt, and Tete--Moutton;
``Banish the Woman from your Face,
``And let the Rake supply the Place;
``Delighted see the People stare,
``And ask each other what you are?
If she goes on to this dull Tune,
Poor I must be a Quaker soon.
She'll scarcely let me wear a Knot;
But keeps me like a Hottentot;
Says, Dressing plain, at small Expence,
Shews better Taste, and better Sense.
I'd take her Judgment, I confess,
Sooner in any Thing, than Dress;
A Science, which she little knows,
Who only huddles on her Cloaths.
This Day, to please my Brother Con.
She let me put your Present on;
And when she saw me very glad,
Cry'd out, She looks like one that's mad!
``Know, Girl, (says she) that Affectation
``Suits only those in higher Station;
``Who plead Prescription for their Rule,
``Whene'er they please to play the Fool:
``But that it best becomes us Cits,
``To dress like People in their Wits.''
poem by Mary Barber
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The Predestined
Dear, we might have known you were
To die young--and were we blind
To the light on face and hair?
Dear, so simple and so kind.
You were clean as your own sword
And as straight too and steel true.
In the Army of the Lord
What promotion waits for you!
I can see you where you stand,
Knightly soul, so clean, so brave.
With a new sword in your hand
Where the lilied banners wave.
Flower of simple chivalry,
Marked for honour and for grace;
It was very plain to see
The clear shining of your face.
You are gone now: it's turned cold:
Very good you were and dear.
Wear the looks you wore of old
When we meet,--some other year.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Almost Ideal Eyes
Here she comes with her almost ideal eyes
And her flawless skin and her petulant pout
The memory of such a long blond alibi
Still makes me want to shout out loud
You ************ when you clear your head my dear
You cant come out here in those stolen clothes
Telling me all about some mystery
I hope she isnt one, I hope she isnt one of those
Almost ideal eyes
Viewed through a rosey hue
So beautiful, trusting
You find liberal is an insult now and care is what you pay for
Be sure of what youre wishing for, be careful what you pray for
When you look into those almost ideal
Love is smiles, he will hypnotize you wild
He tries to analyze your dreams
Fill you up with all his big ideas while he really wants to make you
Scream out loud at the phony innocence
And pained pretence and the dismal rage.
The vacant lot that thankfully time forgot
Where you never have to act, you never have to act your age
Almost ideal eyes
Viewed through a rosey hue
So beautiful, trusting
You find stupid is a compliment and thrill is what you play for
Be sure of what youre wishing for, be careful what you pray for
When you look into those almost ideal eyes
In the spirit(? ) all your friends look uglier
And you find youre wearing an evening gown
Weeping over some tiny broken bird
While the sky is decorated
Shocking pink and a dirty shade of brown
And you think you need to be tranquilized
A feat that may fit to your new career
Whatever you invent youll never be content with
Almost ideal eyes
Viewed through a rosey hue
So beautiful, trusting
Rebellion is just currency, the moon is what you pay for
Be sure of what youre looking for, be careful what you pray for
When you look into those almost ideal eyes
Here she comes, here she comes now.....
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cactus
Sitting here
Wishing on a cement floor
Just wishing that
I had just something you wore
I put it on when I go lonely
Will you take off your dress
And send it to me?
I miss your kissin
And I miss your head
And a letter in your writing
Doesnt mean youre not dead
Just run outside in the desert heat
Make your dress all wet
And send it to me
I miss your soup and I miss your bread
And a letter in your writing
Doesnt mean youre not dead
So spill your breakfast
And drip your wine
Just wear that dress when you dine
D-a-v-i-d
So, sitting here wishing
On a cement floor
Just wishing that I had just something you wore
Bloody your hands on a cactus tree
Wipeem on your dress
And send it to me
Sitting here wishing on a cement floor
Just wishing that I had just something you wore
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cactus
Sitting here wishing on a cement floor
Just wishing that I had just something you wore
I put it on when I go lonely
Will you take off your dress and send it to me?
I miss your kissin and I miss your head
And a letter in your writing doesnt mean youre not dead
Run outside in the desert heat
Make your dress all wet and send it to me
I miss your soup and I miss your bread
And a letter in your writing doesnt mean youre not dead
So spill your breakfast and drip your wine
Just wear that dress when youre dying
P I x I e s
Sitting here wishing on a cement floor
Just wishing that I had just something you wore
Bloody your hands on a cactus tree
Wipe it on your dress and send it to me
Sitting here wishing on a cement floor
Just wishing that I had just something you wore
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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