Related quotes: The sun, which doth the...

Mr. Francis Beaumont's Letter to Ben Jonson

The sun, which doth the greatest comfort bring
To absent friends (because the self-same thing
They know they see, however absent), is
Here our best hay-maker (forgive me this,
It is our country style); in this warm shine
I lie, and dream of your full Mermaid wine.
Oh, we have water mixed with claret-lees,
Drink apt to bring in drier heresies
Than beer, good only for the sonnet strain,
With fustian metaphors to stuff the brain;
So mixed that given to the thirstiest one
'Twill not prove alms unless he have the stone.
I think with one draught man's invention fades,
Two cups had quite marred Homer's Iliads ;
'Tis liquor that will find out Sutcliffe's wit,
Lie where it will, and make him write worse yet.
Filled with such moisture, in a grievous qualm,
Did Robert Wisdom write his singing psalm ;
And so must I do this, and yet I think
It is a potion sent us down to drink
By special providence, keeps us from fights,
Makes us not laugh when we make legs to knights ;
'Tis this that keeps our minds fit for our states,
A med'cine to obey our magistrates.
For we do live more free than you ; no hate,
No envy of another's happy state
Moves us, we are all equal, every whit ;
Of land, that God gives men here, is their wit,
If we consider fully, for our best
And gravest man will, with his main house-jest,
Scarce please you ; we want subtlety to do
The city tricks—lie, hate, and flatter too.
Here are none that can bear a painted show,
Strike when you wink, and then lament the blow,
Who, like mills set the right way to grind,
Can make their gains alike with every wind.
Only some fellow with the subtlest pate
Amongst us, may perchance equivocate

At selling of a horse, and that's the most.
Methinks the little wit I had is lost
Since I saw you ; for wit is like a rest
Held up at tennis, which men do the best
With the best gamesters. What things have we seen
Done at the Mermaid ! heard words that have been
So nimble and so full of subtle flame,
As if that everyone from whence they came
Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,
And had resolved to live a fool the rest
Of his dull life ; then when there has been thrown
Wit able enough to justify the town
For three days past; wit that might warrant be
For the whole city to talk foolishly
Till that were cancelled, and when we were gone,
We left an air behind, which was alone
Able to make the two next companies
Right witty, though they were downright cockneys.
When I remember this, and see that now
The country gentlemen begin to allow
My wit for dry-bobs, then I needs must cry,
I see my days of ballading are nigh ;
I can already riddle, and can sing
Catches, sell bargains, and I fear shall bring
Myself to speak the hardest words I find
Over as fast as any, with one wind
That takes no medicines. But one thought of thee
Makes me remember all these things to be
The wit of our young men, fellows that show
No part of good, yet utter all they know ;
Who like trees and the guard have growing souls
Only ; strong destiny, which all controls,
I hope hath left a better fate in store
For me, thy friend, than to live evermore
Banished unto this home ; 'twill once again
Bring me to thee, who wilt make smooth and plain
The way of knowledge for me, and then I
Who have no good in me but simplicity,
Know that it will my greatest comfort be
To acknowledge all the rest to come from thee.

poem by Francis Beaumont
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Related quotes

I Don't Believe 'You' Wrote This!

I am told I have a way with words.
I am encouraged when I hear that said.
I remember listening to my father talk.
And when he would sing...
He would bring a different meaning,
To each word I heard.
And what his singing to them he would bring.

My mother would play the piano.
Thunderous and loud!
And when I walked through the projects...
I would sing to the trees,
I once walked into one...
Humming to the clouds.

I would make up melodies and tunes with words.
Mocking my dad and my mother's love,
For gospel verse she would rehearse.

I didn't think anything really about words I wrote.
Until my sister read a poem of mine.
And I wanted to choke her by the throat!
YES!
She was the first to read something I wrote out loud.
I was embarrassed by that.
Her nosy grown up butt...
Reading my 'stuff' behind my back!

And then she said to me,
'I don't believe 'you' wrote this! '
I must have been 13 years old...
When I started to make my writing public.

Each 'thing' I write now...
Is added to a mixed bag offering!
And reflecting how I'm feeling at the time.
I am grateful for this blessing.
It offers a comfort and a peace of mind!
And when someone says they enjoy what I do...
I must be honest with 'you', the reader!
I-do-too!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Will Never Forget You

When I went to same school with you, it was fun being in same class with you and becoming friends
Although we barely talk alot, I enjoy seeing you
You are so quiet and shy
I still miss you
I will never forget you
When I left to move back here

When things that bring back memories about you, I feel sad and want to cry
I feel bad for what I did to make us not friend anymore
If I could go there I would fixed it
You make me very happy on the Valentines Day
I got wrong signals that you like me more than a friend
You did it because you want to know how you felt about me
I will never forget you
You are the guy will never meant to hurt me

When I listen to my favorite songs, it bring back memories about you
It's hard to forget you
I can't move on no matter what I tried and accept you like a friend
I can't, and I want you be my boyfriend, but I can't force you to
I will never forget you
I had so many good memories

I will always feel sad when I heard your name or sad song that remind me of you
Although we are in different city
Is just that apart of me is still over there, and
Part of me is just wishing you were here with me
It will never be the same
I will never forget you
You were one of kind

When this feeling happen, I just to hold it in
I want to be by myself and think
There's nothing I can't do
I had to leave it alone and live my life
I want to show you that I can be a better friend
It was is and leave at that
We both are in good place right now
It fun while it last
I will never forgot you

poem by Christina Phan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bring It On Home To Mama

She knows all about me
She knows all my felonies
She got the moves to-a-make me tremble
She's got me on my knees
She's got life-time guarantees
'Ain't got no time for my innuendos
I don't mind if you make a dime baby
Bring it on home to mama
Bump 'n' grind in your own time baby
Bring it on home to mama
She say I'm to blame
She say men are all the same
She got the signed, sealed, testimony
She knows a woman's place
She knows where to rest her case
She got her mind on alimony
I don't mind if you make a dime baby
Bring it on home to mama
Bump 'n' grind in your own time baby
Bring it on home to mama
Hey, baby, bring it on home to mama
Hey, hay-makin' baby, bring it on home to mama
She wears a heart of gold
Says her needs are many fold
I got no reason or need to doubt it
She knows she leads the dance
She knows how t'wear those pants
She got the full metal matching outfit
I don't mind if you make a dime baby
Bring it on home to mama
Bump 'n' grind in your own time baby
Bring it on home to mama
I don't mind if you make a dime baby
Bring it on home to mama
Bump 'n' grind in your own time baby
Bring it on home to mama
You can go blind, gimme what's mine
If y'wanna keep this love alive, (keep this love alive)
Bring it on home to mama
Don't talk back, just get another kick-back
This ain't no jive, (this ain't no jive!)
Bring it on home to mama
Bring it on home, bring it on home
Bring it on home, bring it on home
Bring it on home, bring it on home to mama
Bring it on home!

song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jolly Good Ale and Old

Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.

I cannot eat but little meat,
My stomach is not good;
But sure I think that I can drink
With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I am nothing a-cold;
I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.

I love no roast but a nutbrown toast,
And a crab laid in the fire;
A little bread shall do me stead,
Much bread I not desire.
No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,
Can hurt me if I would,
I am so wrapt, and throughly lapt
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.

And Tib my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinks she, till ye may see
The tears run down her cheek.
Then doth she troll to me the bowl,
Even as a maltworm should;
And saith,"Sweetheart, I took my part
Of this jolly good ale and old."
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.

Now let them drink, till they nod and wink,
Even as good fellows should do;
They shall not miss to have the bliss
Good ale doth bring men to.
And all poor souls that have scoured bowls,
Or have them lustily troll'd,
God save the lives of them and their wives,
Whether they be young or old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.

poem by William Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back and Side go Bare

Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.

poem by William Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman

I would climb the highest mountain to speak with you my swami
You are seer and knower of all things great and small
Your knowledge and understanding has no boundaries
Your intellect is only surpassed by your beauty and charm
Queen of my heart and princess of the earth
You are the mother of humanity and the barer of fruits
Thru your manifestation you bring forth life
You are the queen of all things and the mother of humanity

Muse of my soul and the captain of my ship
I shall build you a garden house so I can reach you at my whim
Your sense of style and taste captures your spirit within
Fly me away so I can come on down to your sandy shores
In your red dress, you dress to impress

For everything I do you are always on my mind
I dream a dream of being in your arms forever
A heavenly bliss that any man would die for
To taste your lips of cherry wine would be intoxicating
I would drink until I was fully inebriated
I would swim in your waters until I drown in your love

Your earthly brown tones I dream of embracing me
Your laughter brings joy to my moody day.
You must be an arsonist for you set my soul on fire
High on a throne you should be seated for I am only a jester at your side
You bring so much levity that sparks my humorous side
You are my beauty queen and I a mere minstrel at your periphery

You are a rare beauty a treasured fine that is one of a kind
My nimble fingers can not construct the words to let you know how you make me feel
You are all that is good and pure in the world
Some say pure as the driven snow but I say pure as the first humans to walk this earth
Ask of me what you will for I will die trying to comfort you
Your sultry sense is not a state of being but a state of mind

Dance my tiny dancer for the world will travel to your beat
Dance to your own music for some just don’t get you
Your colors are warm and they bring comfort to the eyes
How does one construct words to explain how you make me feel
Sweet Sensuous words of my true feelings
Words that will sway you in my way
Word that would captivate your heart from the start

To live a life of servitude with you would be a dream come true
You are a Goddess to be worshiped
You are more than any mere mortal can comprehend
The utterance of your angelic voice brings shivers down my spine
I can not rest until we converse again
When I am sad you make me glad
You are the true love that I never had

poem by Wilfred Mellers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heaven found a way

Heaven found a way to make thee perfect one
That also came along with a Son

To put thee greatest love in side his heart
And held it strong to never part

To show a Lady were her Souls Heart could find
Thee closest thing of Heaven to bind

Thee strongest love of all
One could ever wish to have the chance to fall

In love complete souls mate of thee creator
Heaven found a way to finely save her

Sent his own garden angels to guide her way
To walk with her until thee day

Heavenly gifts placed in to her soul
To tell the world what first was told

So much faith placed in to ones heart
To heal thee world that falls apart

So with heavens strongest angels and gifts
Teachings and faith bring truth to all myths

Time slips closer to heavens final try
To heal the world that wants to die

Wings will flush and crush shadows sin
Awaken all life from with in

Heaven found a way
I as me in its entirety has the words to say
I walk with thee angels of heaven
And bring to all Thee Final day

To save the souls that heaven gave
And to shadows ending sin
For life to live once again!

I shall not fall i shall Win!

poem by Susan Covington
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Holy Scriptures II

Oh that I knew how all thy lights combine,
And the configurations of their glory!
Seeing not only how each verse doth shine,
But all the constellations of the story.
This verse marks that, and both do make a motion
Unto a third, that ten leaves off doth lie:
Then as dispersed herbs do watch a poition,
These three make up some Christian's destiny:
Such are thy secrets, which my life makes good,
And comments on thee: for in ev'ry thing
Thy words do find me out, and parallels bring,
And in another make me understood.
Stars are poor books, and oftentimes do miss:
This book of stars lights to eternal bliss.

poem by George Herbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Author's Apology For His Book

WHEN at the first I took my pen in hand
Thus for to write, I did not understand

That I at all should make a little book
In such a mode: nay, I had undertook

To make another; which, when almost done,
Before I was aware I this begun.

And thus it was: I, writing of the way
And race of saints in this our gospel-day,

Fell suddenly into an allegory
About their journey, and the way to glory,

In more than twenty things which I set down
This done, I twenty more had in my crown,

And they again began to multiply,
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly.

Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast,
I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last

Should prove ad infinitum, I and eat out
The book that I already am about.

Well, so I did; but yet I did not think
To show to all the world my pen and ink

In such a mode; I only thought to make
I knew not what: nor did I undertake

Thereby to please my neighbor; no, not I;
I did it my own self to gratify.

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend
In this my scribble; nor did I intend

But to divert myself, in doing this,
From worser thoughts, which make me do amiss.

Thus I set pen to paper with delight,
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white;

For having now my method by the end,
Still as I pull'd, it came; and so I penned

It down; until it came at last to be,
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.

Well, when I had thus put mine ends together
I show'd them others, that I might see whether

They would condemn them, or them justify:
And some said, let them live; some, let them die:

Some said, John, print it; others said, Not so:
Some said, It might do good; others said, No.

Now was I in a strait, and did not see
Which was the best thing to be done by me:

At last I thought, Since ye are thus divided,
I print it will; and so the case decided.

For, thought I, some I see would have it done,
Though others in that channel do not run:

To prove, then, who advised for the best,
Thus I thought fit to put it to the test.

I further thought, if now I did deny
Those that would have it, thus to gratify;

I did not know, but hinder them I might
Of that which would to them be great delight.

For those which were not for its coming forth,
I said to them, Offend you, I am loath;

Yet since your brethren pleased with it be,
Forbear to judge, till you do further see.

If that thou wilt not read, let it alone;
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone.

Yea, that I might them better palliate,
I did too with them thus expostulate:

May I not write in such a style as this?
In such a method too, and yet not miss

My end-thy good? Why may it not be done?
Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none.

Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops
Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops,

Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either,
But treasures up the fruit they yield together;

Yea, so commixes both, that in their fruit
None can distinguish this from that; they suit

Her well when hungry; but if she be full,
She spews out both, and makes their blessing null.

You see the ways the fisherman doth take
To catch the fish; what engines doth he make!

Behold how he engageth all his wits;
Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets:

Yet fish there be, that neither hook nor line,
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine:

They must be groped for, and be tickled too,
Or they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do.

How does the fowler seek to catch his game
By divers means! all which one cannot name.

His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light and bell:
He creeps, he goes, he stands; yea, who can tell

Of all his postures? yet there's none of these
Will make him master of what fowls he please.

Yea, he must pipe and whistle, to catch this;
Yet if he does so, that bird he will miss.

If that a pearl may in toad's head dwell,
And may be found too in an oyster-shell;

If things that promise nothing, do contain
What better is than gold; who will disdain,

That have an inkling to of it, there to look,
That they may find it. Now my little book,

(Though void of all these paintings that may make
It with this or the other man to take,)

Is not without those things that do excel
What do in brave but empty notions dwell.

"Well, yet I am not fully satisfied
That this your book will stand, when soundly tried."

Why, what's the matter? "It is dark." What though?
"But it is feigned." What of that? I trow

Some men by feigned words, as dark as mine,
Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shine.

"But they want solidness." Speak, man, thy mind.
"They drown the weak; metaphors make us blind."

Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen
Of him that writeth things divine to men:

But must I needs want solidness, because
By metaphors I speak? Were not God's laws,

His gospel laws, in olden time held forth
By types, shadows, and metaphors? Yet loth

Will any sober man be to find fault
With them, lest he be found for to assault

The highest wisdom! No, he rather stoops,
And seeks to find out what, by pins and loops,

By calves and sheep, by heifers, and by rams,
By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs,

God speaketh to him; and happy is he
That finds the light and grace that in them be.

But not too forward, therefore, to conclude
That I want solidness-that I am rude;

All things solid in show, not solid be;
All things in parable despise not we,

Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive,
And things that good are, of our souls bereave.

My dark and cloudy words they do but hold
The truth, as cabinets inclose the gold.

The prophets used much by metaphors
To set forth truth: yea, who so considers

Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see,
That truths to this day in such mantles be.

Am I afraid to say, that holy writ,
Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit,

Is everywhere so full of all these things,
Dark figures, allegories? Yet there springs

From that same book, that lustre, and those rays
Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days.

Come, let my carper to his life now look,
And find there darker lines than in my book

He findeth any; yea, and let him know,
That in his best things there are worse lines too.

May we but stand before impartial men,
To his poor one I durst adventure ten,

That they will take my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in silver shrines.

Come, truth, although in swaddling-clothes, I find
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind;

Pleases the understanding, makes the will
Submit, the memory too it doth fill

With what doth our imagination please;
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease.

Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use,
And old wives' fables he is to refuse;

But yet grave Paul him nowhere doth forbid
The use of parables, in which lay hid

That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were
Worth digging for, and that with greatest care.

Let me add one word more. O man of God,
Art thou offended? Dost thou wish I had

Put forth my matter in another dress?
Or that I had in things been more express?

Three things let me propound; then I submit
To those that are my betters, as is fit.

1. I find not that I am denied the use
Of this my method, so I no abuse

Put on the words, things, readers, or be rude
In handling figure or similitude,

In application; but all that I may
Seek the advance of truth this or that way.

Denied, did I say? Nay, I have leave,
(Example too, and that from them that have

God better pleased, by their words or ways,
Than any man that breatheth now-a-days,)

Thus to express my mind, thus to declare
Things unto thee that excellentest are.

2. I find that men as high as trees will write
Dialogue-wise; yet no man doth them slight

For writing so. Indeed, if they abuse
Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use

To that intent; but yet let truth be free
To make her sallies upon thee and me,

Which way it pleases God: for who knows how,
Better than he that taught us first to plough,

To guide our minds and pens for his designs?
And he makes base things usher in divine.

3. I find that holy writ, in many places,
Hath semblance with this method, where the cases

Do call for one thing to set forth another:
Use it I may then, and yet nothing smother

Truth's golden beams: nay, by this method may
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day.

And now, before I do put up my pen,
I'll show the profit of my book; and then

Commit both thee and it unto that hand
That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand.

This book it chalketh out before thine eyes
The man that seeks the everlasting prize:

It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes,
What he leaves undone; also what he does:

It also shows you how he runs, and runs,
Till he unto the gate of glory comes.

It shows, too, who set out for life amain,
As if the lasting crown they would obtain;

Here also you may see the reason why
They lose their labor, and like fools do die.

This book will make a traveler of thee,
If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be;

It will direct thee to the Holy Land,
If thou wilt its directions understand

Yea, it will make the slothful active be;
The blind also delightful things to see.

Art thou for something rare and profitable?
Or would'st thou see a truth within a fable?

Art thou forgetful? Wouldest thou remember
From New-Year's day to the last of December?

Then read my fancies; they will stick like burs,
And may be, to the helpless, comforters.

This book is writ in such a dialect
As may the minds of listless men affect:

It seems a novelty, and yet contains
Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains.

Would'st thou divert thyself from melancholy?
Would'st thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly?

Would'st thou read riddles, and their explanation?
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation?

Dost thou love picking meat? Or would'st thou see
A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee?

Would'st thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep?
Or would'st thou in a moment laugh and weep?

Would'st thou lose thyself and catch no harm,
And find thyself again without a charm?

Would'st read thyself, and read thou know'st not what,
And yet know whether thou art blest or not,

By reading the same lines? O then come hither,
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together.

poem by John Bunyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Hate You Then I Love You

Id like to run away from you
But if I were to leave you I would die
Id like to break the chains you put
Around me
And yet Ill never try
No matter what you do you drive me
Crazy
Id rather be alone
But then I know my life would be so
Empty
As soon as you were gone
Impossible to live with you
But I could never live without you
For whatever you do / for whatever you
Do
I never, never, never
Want to be in love with anyone but you
You make me sad
You make me strong
You make me mad
You make me long for you / you make
Me long for you
You make me live
You make me die
You make me laugh
You make me cry for you / you make me
Cry for you
I hate you
Then I love you
Then I love you
Then I hate you
Then I love you more
For whatever you do
I never, never, never
Want to be in love with anyone but you
You treat me wrong
You treat me right
You let me be
You make me fight with you / I could
Never live without you
You make me high
You bring me down
You set me free
You hold me bound to you
I hate you
Then I love you
Then I love you
Then I hate you
Then I love you more / I love you more
For whatever you do / for whatever you
Do
I never, never, never
Want to be in love with anyone but you
I never, never, never
I never, never, never
I never, never, never
Want to be in love with anyone but you
But you

song performed by by Celine Dion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Ok, You're Ok

[Verse 1]
The first thing I did wrong
Was hook up with a girl who wasn't grown
She looked like a woman but her mind worked like a child
It was her girlish qualities that made me smile
The outside never showed me what was in
And her ending didn't look like it began
Now I know and it's for sure
That you can't change a girl into a woman
[Hook]
I'm okay, make sure you're okay
No matter how long it takes
Make sure that you're okay
And if she goes away
Make sure that you're okay
Now that I got out
I'm just looking out trying to show you the way
To be okay
[Verse 2]
Now I hate to see you make the same mistakes
So avoid the things that cause your heart to break
From a hurting brother, I ain't trying to hate
But if you mess around with her she'll seal your fate
You'll never see it coming till it's there
And you'll find out that she doesn't really care
And it's real what I feel
You can have her ass I don't want her over here
[Hook]
[Bridge]
If you decide to stay it's alright (it's your decision)
But take heed to what I say you'll be alright (listen to what I'm saying)
If you decide to go then go now (you better leave her)
Don't look back because she'll only bring you down
Oh, bring you down
Bring you down (bring you down)
[Breakdown]
Sing it one time
Okay, woo, woo, woo, woo, woo
Make sure you'll be okay
It's okay, okay
[Hook]

song performed by by Boyz II Men
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twilight Alehouse

1971. released as b-side of I know what I like single, 1974.
Is it really true what theyre saying
Are you really sure theres nobody come for me
When Im walking home there is no-one
Once there was a house, full of laughter - so warm
Trying to pretend there is someone
Someone who will care when I need it
I will now receive my comfort, conjured by the magic power of wine
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling good
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling fine
Just a drink to take my sorrow
Just a drink and you can blast tomorrow
Just a drink to make me feel like a man again
Now Im down
When I walk outside, there is nowhere
Children follow me, with their laughter - so cold...
Casting just a glance at the churchyard
Casting just a glance, at my painted female friend.
Now Im on my way, I am falling
Got to find some elp, ooh I will need that now
So I will receive my comfort, conjured by the magic power of wine
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling good
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling fine
Just a drink to take my sorrow
Just a drink and you can blast tomorrow
Just a drink to make me feel like a man again
Now Im down...
I will now receive my comfort, conjured by the magic power of wine
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling good
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling fine
Just a drink to take my sorrow
Just a drink and you can blast tomorrow, now...

song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eternal Time, That Wastest Without Waste

Eternal Time, that wastest without waste,
That art and art not, diest, and livest still;
Most slow of all, and yet of greatest haste;
Both ill and good, and neither good nor ill:
How can I justly praise thee, or dispraise?
Dark are thy nights, but bright and clear thy days.

Both free and scarce, thou giv'st and tak'st again;
Thy womb that all doth breed, is tomb to all;
What so by thee hath life, by thee is slain;
From thee do all things rise, by thee they fall:
Constant, inconstant, moving, standing still;
Was, Is, Shall be, do thee both breed and kill.

I lose thee, while I seek to find thee out;
The farther off, the more I follow thee;
The faster hold, the greater cause of doubt;
Was, Is, I know; but Shall, I cannot see.
All things by thee are measur'd; thou, by none:
All are in thee; thou, in thyself alone.

poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Guru's Amrit

1. May Thee open Thy august mouth of wisdom
To make me drink the Amrit of knowledge:
My Sat Guru, take me out of
Darkness into light !

2. To begin with, mayst Thee make me
Contemplate on my Sat Guru !
Moment after moment, would I
Pine to kneel before Thee !
Day and night, not for a moment
Would I suffer separation from Thee
May Thee open Thy august mouth of wisdom
And make me drink the Amrit of Thy knowledge !

3. My Guru, solve the problems of my life
Now that I am born !
Humble me not among saints;
Subdue the thieves of
My emotive senses by
Strengthening the power of my will !
May Thee open Thy august mouth of wisdom
And make me drink the Amrit of Thy knowledge !

3. Subduing my emotions, break the lustful elephant
Of my pugnacious conceit
Guide me, only on one
............ of the eleven paths !
Keep me not off from
The word, SUHUM
(I m Thee).
May Thee open Thy august mouth of wisdom
And make me drink the Amrit of Thy knowledge

5. Make me wash myself clean
In the Sheshrum Nag lake;
Look not at my sinful life !
Ferry me too across, as Thou did
Mohini Sada Guru.
May Thee open Thy august mouth of wisdom
And make me drink the Amrit of Thy knowledge !

6. Moment by moment, let me
Meditate on Thee
Make me think of and do, only that
Which's right to think and do !
O, Kamadeva, Shyam Sundara
Let me not come and go
Come and go (Shuttle between life and death)
May Thee open Thy august mouth of wisdom
And make me drink the Amrit of Thy knowledge !

7. O, Bishambara, grace me with Thy presence
Stay awhile.
isten to my tale:
Revive my old memories !
May Thee open Thy august mouth of wisdom
And make me drink the Amrit of Thy knowledge !

8. Grace me with Thy presence in graceful garlands
And, show me Thy haloed aura, luster light !
My day has passed by, mayst Thee not
Make me wait any longer !
Mayst Thee open Thy august mouth of wisdom
And make me drink the Amrit of Thy knowledge.

poem by Swami Parmanand
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A Funeral Elegy on the Death of The Lady Penelope Clifton

Since thou art dead, Clifton, the world may see
A certain end of flesh and blood in thee;
Till then a way was left for man to cry,
Flesh may be made so pure it cannot die;
But now thy unexpected death doth strike
With grief the better and the worse alike;
The good are sad they are not with thee there,
The bad have found they must not tarry here.
Death, I confess, 'tis just in thee to try
Thy pow'r on us, for thou thyself must die;
Thou pay'st but wages, Death, yet I would know
What strange delight thou tak'st to pay them so;
When thou com'st face to face thou strik'st us mute
And all our liberty is to dispute
With thee behind thy back, which I will use:
If thou hadst bravery in thee, thou wouldst choose
(Since thou art absolute, and canst controul
All things beneath a reasonable soul)
Some looked for way of killing; if her day
Had ended in a fire, a sword, or sea,
Or hadst thou come hid in a hundred years
To make an end of all her hopes and fears,
Or any other way direct to thee
Which Nature might esteem an enemy,
Who would have chid thee? now it shews thy hand
Desires to cozen where it might command:
Thou art not prone to kill, but where th' intent
Of those that suffer is their nourishment;
If thou canst steal into a dish, and creep
When all is still as though into a sleep,
And cover thy dry body with a draught,
Whereby some innocent lady may be caught,
And cheated of her life, then thou wilt come
And stretch thyself upon her early tomb,
And laugh as pleased, to show thou canst devour
Mortality as well by wit as pow'r.
I would thou hadst had eyes, or not a dart,
That yet at least, the clothing of that heart
Thou struck'st so spitefully might have appear'd
To thee, and with a reverence have been fear'd:
But since thou art so blind, receive from me
Who 'twas on whom thou wrought'st this tragedy;
She was a lady, who for public fame,
Never (since she in thy protection came,
Who sett'st all living tongues at large) received
A blemish; with her beauty she deceived
No man; when taken with it, they agree
'Twas Nature's fault, when from 'em 'twas in thee.
And such her virtue was, that although she
Received as much joy, having pass'd through thee,
As ever any did; yet hath thy hate
Made her as little better in her state,
As ever it did any being here;
She lived with us as if she had been there.
Such ladies thou canst kill no more, but so
I give thee warning here to kill no moe;
For if thou dost, my pen shall make the rest
Of those that live, especially the best,
Whom thou most thirstest for, to abandon all
Those fruitless things, which thou wouldst have us call
Preservatives, keeping, their diet so,
As the long-living poor their neighbours do:
Then shall we have them long, and they at last
Shall pass from thee to her, but not so fast.

poem by Francis Beaumont
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death’s Chill Between

Chide not; let me breathe a little,
For I shall not mourn him long;
Though the life-cord was so brittle,
The love-cord was very strong.
I would wake a little space
Till I find a sleeping-place.

You can go,—I shall not weep;
You can go unto your rest.
My heart-ache is all too deep,
And too sore my throbbing breast.
Can sobs be, or angry tears,
Where are neither hopes nor fears?

Though with you I am alone
And must be so everywhere,
I will make no useless moan,—
None shall say 'She could not bear:'
While life lasts I will be strong,—
But I shall not struggle long.

Listen, listen! Everywhere
A low voice is calling me,
And a step is on the stair,
And one comes ye do not see,
Listen, listen! Evermore
A dim hand knocks at the door.

Hear me; he is come again,—
My own dearest is come back.
Bring him in from the cold rain;
Bring wine, and let nothing lack.
Thou and I will rest together,
Love, until the sunny weather.

I will shelter thee from harm,—
Hide thee from all heaviness.
Come to me, and keep thee warm
By my side in quietness.
I will lull thee to thy sleep
With sweet songs:—we will not weep.

Who hath talked of weeping?—Yet
There is something at my heart,
Gnawing, I would fain forget,
And an aching and a smart.
—Ah! my mother, 'tis in vain,
For he is not come again.

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Bring It Home To Mama

She knows all about me
She knows all my felonies
She got the moves to-a-make me tremble
Shes got me on my knees
Shes got life-time guarantees
aint got no time for my innuendos
I dont mind if you make a dime baby
Bring it on home to mama
Bump n? grind in your own time baby
Bring it on home to mama
She say Im to blame
She say men are all the same
She got the signed, sealed, testimony
She knows a womans place
She knows where to rest her case
She got her mind on alimony
I dont mind if you make a dime baby
Bring it on home to mama
Bump n? grind in your own time baby
Bring it on home to mama
Hey, baby, bring it on home to mama
Hey, hay-makin? baby, bring it on home to mama
She wears a heart of gold
Says her needs are many fold
I got no reason or need to doubt it
She knows she leads the dance
She knows how twear those pants
She got the full metal matching outfit
I dont mind if you make a dime baby
Bring it on home to mama
Bump n? grind in your own time baby
Bring it on home to mama
I dont mind if you make a dime baby
Bring it on home to mama
Bump n? grind in your own time baby
Bring it on home to mama
You can go blind, gimme whats mine
If ywanna keep this love alive, (keep this love alive)
Bring it on home to mama
Dont talk back, just get another kick-back
This aint no jive, (this aint no jive!)
Bring it on home to mama
Bring it on home, bring it on home
Bring it on home, bring it on home
Bring it on home, bring it on home to mama
Bring it on home!
(rankin......polygram songs)
Published by nazareth (dunfermline) ltd.
Copyright 1994 polydor gbmh, hamburg

song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Terence, This is Stupid Stuff

"Terence, this is stupid stuff!
You eat your victuals fast enough;
There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear,
To see the rate you drink your beer.
But oh, good Lord, the verse you make,
It gives a chap the belly-ache!
The cow, the old cow, she is dead;
It sleeps well, the horned head...
We poor lads, 'tis our turn now
To hear such tunes as killed the cow!
Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme
Your friends to death before their time
Moping melancholy mad!
Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad!"

Why, if 'tis dancing you would be,
There's brisker pipes than poetry.
Say, for what were hop-yards meant,
Or why was Burton built on Trent?
Oh many a peer of England brews
Livelier liquor than the Muse,
And malt does more than Milton can
To justify God's ways to man.
Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink
For fellows whom it hurts to think:
Look into the pewter pot
To see the world as the world's not.
And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past:
The mischief is that 'twill not last.
Oh I have been to Ludlow fair
And left my necktie God knows where,
And carried half way home, or near,
Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer:
Then the world seemed none so bad,
And I myself a sterling lad;
And down in lovely muck I've lain,
Happy till I woke again.
Then I saw the morning sky:
Heigho, the tale was all a lie;
The world, it was the old world yet,
I was I, my things were wet,
And nothing now remained to do
But begin the game anew.

Therefore, since the world has still
Much good, but much less good than ill,
And while the sun and moon endure
Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure,
I'd face it as a wise man would,
And train for ill and not for good.
'Tis true, the stuff I bring for sale
Is not so brisk a brew as ale:
Out of a stem that scored the hand
I wrung it in a weary land.
But take it: if the smack is sour,
The better for the embittered hour;
It should do good to heart and head
When your soul is in my soul's stead;
And I will friend you, if I may,
In the dark and cloudy day.

There was a king reigned in the East:
There, when kings will sit to feast,
They get their fill before they think
With poisoned meat and poisoned drink.
He gathered all the springs to birth
From the many-venomed earth;
First a little, thence to more,
He sampled all her killing store;
And easy, smiling, seasoned sound,
Sate the king when healths went round.
They put arsenic in his meat
And stared aghast to watch him eat;
They poured strychnine in his cup
And shook to see him drink it up:
They shook, they stared as white's their shirt:
Them it was their poison hurt.
--I tell the tale that I heard told.
Mithridates, he died old.

poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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An Ode to Music

You don't words to touch my soul,
You don't words to bring light into my life,
You don't words to paint a picture,
You don't words to make me think of home.

You are a great leveller talking to kings and paupers alike,
You give people identity,
You can unite us,
You can give us hope.

You are as old as humanity itself,
You are always evolving with us,
You can show us our past,
You can show us our future.

You can inspire us to dream,
You can change the future,
You document our lives,
You can drive darkness out of our hearts.

You are a great force for good,
You can help liberate people,
You are mankind's greatest gift,
You could bring unity to mankind if we just listened to you.

You are perhaps my greatest love,
You are there for every occasion,
You are there for the happy times,
You are there for the great tragedies of life.

You can define time and eras,
You can define a man's life like nothing else,
You are the life-blood of me,
You are like the alpha and omega there at the beginning and at the end.

By Christopher Tye

poem by Christopher Tye
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Talk About The Good Times

(words & music by jerry reed hubbard)
Well I remember when I was as children
The time the people used to treat the neighbor like a fellow man
And all their singin and big prayer meetins
When a man was proud to walk up and shake his neighbors hand
Oh you talk about the good times,
Talk about the good times
Oh if you ever needed help a friend was there
Some good neighbor
Help lift your burden
Mmm, and the simple joys of life a friend would share
Times are harder and the people are changin
Now most folks couldnt tell you who their neighbors are
All their guns are loaded, the front doors are bolted
Aint this ol world takin hate and fear just a little too far
Oh you talk about the good times,
Talk about the good times
I wish I could go back to the days Im speakin of
When a friend would meet you
And a smile would greet you
What this ol world needs now is a little old fashioned love
My granddaddy God rest his soul now
Well we had a big long talk together the day he died
Said son this world is full of hate and venom
An I cant wait to leave this ol place and rest on the other side
Oh you talk about the good times, talk about the good times
Talk about the good times
Im gonna see all the friends I knew in the good ol days
Well have a big hand shakin
An sit and talk together
Sit down by the river jordan and sing our blues away
Oh you talk about the good times, talk about the good times
Talk about the good times
Im gonna see all the friends I knew in the good ol days
Well have a big hand shakin
An sit and talk together
Sit down by the river jordan and sing our blues away
Oh you talk about the good times, talk about the good times
Talk about the good times
Im gonna see all the friends I knew in the good ol days
Well have a big hand shakin
An sit and talk together
Sit down by the river jordan and sing our blues away

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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