Pied Beauty
Glory be to God for dappled things --
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted |&| pieced -- fold, fallow, |&| plough;
And {'a}ll trades, their gear |&| tackle |&| trim.
All things counter, original, sp{'a}re, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckl{`e}d, (who knows how?)
With sw{'i}ft, sl{'o}w; sweet, s{'o}ur; ad{'a}zzle, d{'i}m;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is p{'a}st change:
Pr{'a}ise h{'i}m.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Related quotes
Freshness is Beauty
Not fresh is she now to her spouse.
She is often put to the disuse,
Much to her disgust and despair.
Beauty deteriorating without use.
Fresh is still she, to other men
And hence appears a beauty
But guarded from any misuse,
Beauty decaying for want of use.
Fresh to him are other women
In whom he finds fresh beauty.
But he is fretted from straying,
Beauty suffering behind the bar.
Change of things – Beauty strives.
Change of mates – Passion lasts.
21.06.96
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Convention in Miami
for Gerard Manley Hopkins
Around his navel this morning
a halo, a red stipple
Hopkins would love:
'Glory be to God for dappled things...'
It's a gift from this woman
he doesn't know
who welcomed him last night
with open arms and open legs
and sent him back to his wife
this morning, unaware
he was bringing home a souvenir,
a bright halo of crab lice.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Strange Things Happen
She believes in god
And karma too
Paranormal powers
You know some people do
Got scorpio risin
Uh huh
Tell you whats in your stars
She was down in rio
Turn the heads of state
Got em into makin
This planet a better place
On copacabana
Uh huh
Oh yeah she radiate better go meditate
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen
Strange things happen
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen to me
Strange things happen
Oh ohhh ohhhh
Oh oh strange things happen
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen to me
Met a pshycic reader
With a crystal ball
Had a vision
Said we could have it all
I caught her gazin
Uh huh
At our destiny cosmically
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen
Oh ohhh ohhhh
Oh oh strange things happen
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen to me
Strange things happen
Oh ohhh ohhhh
Oh oh strange things happen
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen to me
Strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange
Strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange
Strange strange strange
Strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange
Strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange
Strange strange strange
Strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange
Strange strange strange strange strange
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chanclebury Ring
Say what you will, there is not in the world
A nobler sight than from this upper Down.
No rugged landscape here, no beauty hurled
From its Creator's hand as with a frown;
But a green plain on which green hills look down
Trim as a garden plot. No other hue
Can hence be seen, save here and there the brown
Of a square fallow, and the horizon's blue.
Dear checker--work of woods, the Sussex Weald!
If a name thrills me yet of things of earth,
That name is thine. How often I have fled
To thy deep hedgerows and embraced each field,
Each lag, each pasture,--fields which gave me birth
And saw my youth, and which must hold me dead.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Strange Things
I was on top of the world
It was right in my pocket
I was livin' the life
Things were just the way they should be
When from out of the sky like a bomb comes some little punk in a rocket
Now all of a sudden some strange things are happenin' to me
I had friends,
I had lots of friends
Now all my friends are gone
And I'm doin' the best I can to carry on
I had power (power)
I was respected (respect)
But not any more
And I've lost the love to the one whom I adored
Let me tell you about the strange things are happenin' to me
Strange things
Strange things are happenin' to me...
Ain't no doubt about it
You got someone you think you know well
It turns out a stranger
The minute you turn your back
You're in it all by yourself
They laugh at your jokes
You think you're doin' well
But you're in danger, boy
You end up alone, forgotten, way up on the shelf
Strange things are happenin' to me
Strange things
Strange things are happenin' to me
Ain't no doubt about it
Strange things are happenin' to me
Strange things
Strange things are happenin' to me
Strange things
Strange things
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Son can be a rival/.
I taught my son lessons on singing
And made him with my sweats a great singer.
Sons’ glory is fathers’ glory.
His glory is my glory.
His wings spread and mine shrunk.
People thronged around him and spared me.
They didn’t say he was the great;
They said I was no where near him.
His glory is not my glory;
Sons’ glory is not fathers’ glory.
Can there be two heroes in a play?
Should he outlive me in the posterity?
He is my rival, no more a son.
11.02.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Glory To God
Glory to God, some early birds does sing
while in winter the icy snow does glow,
in summers the sun rise hot and lovely
while there is some pleasure in everything,
and with tranquillity the waters do flow
while all of nature then feels somewhat free
All things over time then begins to change
as if joy, is found everywhere with glee
and in this we do God’s presence know
although nothing is out of place or strange
as then all things has beauty.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Prose to a Rose
Such A flower is the rose
Its colour bursting red
Such a flower if the rose
The flower of passion the poets often said
I could gaze upon its beauty
And not lift thine eyes
And when it closes its petals to go to sleep
A tear of sadness rises in my eyes
Such a flower is the rose
For it reminds me of you my dear
When ever I gaze upon a rose
It makes me wish you were here
Its petals are soft as thy skin
The colour like your lips
Its fragrance is sweet and pure
Like the flavor of your kiss
Such a flower is the rose it beauty
Has been endless through out time
And when ever I see a rose be reassured my love
You are for ever on my mind
poem by John A. Hancock
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Strange Attraction
it started with a dedication
'lost in admiration - happy birthday -
i'm forever yours - BLOSSOM'
fared red inside a tiny book of butterflies
i smiled surprised at how when flickered through
the wings flew by spelled out my name
six months went by the summer lost
obsessively the letters dropped into my life
the same soft blood smooth flowing hand
'please try to understand - I have to see you - have to feel you -
tell you all the ways I need you - yours forever in love...'
strange attraction spreads its wings
it varies but the smallest things
you never know how anything will change
strange attraction spreads its wings
and alters but the smallest things
you never know how anything will fade
the year grew old incessantly she wrote to me
she'd started smoking poetry!
i laughed in recognition of a favorite phrase
she'd pulled me in...
i answered her
a christmas card in sepia
arranging when and where
and how the two of us should meet...
her opening so well prepared
a nervous smile
i couldn't take my eyes from her
she whispered
'can I use some of your lipstick?'
it was perfect so believable
i couldn't help but feel that it was real
and kissing crimson fell into her waiting arms
strange attraction spreads its wings
it varies but the smallest things
you never know how anything will change
strange attraction spreads its wings
and alters but the smallest things
you never know how anything will fade
so alone into the cold new year without another wo
i wrote to ask if we could maybe meet again before
but weeks went by with no reply untill once more m
and with it my surprise but this time nothing was
'i'm sorry - blame infatuation - blame imagination
i was sure you'd be the one but I was wrong -
it seems reality destroys our dreams - I won't for
fared red inside a tiny book of all goodbyes...
strange attraction spreads its wings
it varies but the smallest things
you never know how anything will change
strange attraction spreads its wings
and alters but the smallest things
you never know how anything will fade
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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These Foolish Things
A cigarette that bares a lipstick's traces
An airline ticket to romantic places
And still my heart has wings
These foolish things remind me of you.
A tinkling piano in the next apartment
Those stumblin'words that told you what my heart meant
A fairground's painted swings
These foolish things
Remind me of you.
You came,
You saw,
You conquered me
When you did that to me
I knew somehow this had to be
The winds of march that made my heart a dancer
A telephone that rings but who's to answer
Oh, how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things
Remind me of you
First daffodils
And long excited cables
And candle lights
A little corner table
And still my heart has wings
These foolish things remind me of you
The park at evening
When the bell has sounded
The pier in france
With all the gulls around it
The beauty that is spring
These foolish things
Remind me of you
How strange,
How sweet,
To find you still,
These things are dear to me
They seem to bring you near to me
The sigh of midnight trains
At empty stations
Silk stockings thrown aside
Dance invitations
Oh how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things
Remind me of you
Gardenia perfume
Lingering on a pillow
Wild strawberries
Only seven francs a kilo
And still my heart has wings,
These foolish things,
Remind me of you
The smile of garbo
And the scent of roses
The waiters whistling
As the last bar closes
The song that crosby sings
These foolish things
Remind me of you
How strange
How sweet
To find you still
These things are dear to me
They seem to bring you near to me
The scent of smoldering leaves
The wail of steamers
Two lovers on the street
Who walk like dreamers
Oh how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things
Remind me of you.
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Girl Named Sandoz (Peel Session)
Well I met a girl called Sandoz
And she taught me many many things
Good things
Very good things
Sweet things
I met her on a Sunday morning
It was hot though the snow lay on the ground
Strange things
Very strange things
My mind has wings
Sandoz, Sandoz
Will you tell me no
Sandoz, Sandoz
Will you tell me why
We could all learn something from your mind
Yeah
She is very old yet many think she's young
One kiss from her and you know your time has come
Good times for all time
Sandoz
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everything Changes
The flowers
The hours
The seasons
The reasons
The dirty pennies
The sweet cherries
The sour grapes
The naughty apes…
Everything changes
When one has no change
The ranges
The fringes
This is strange
Everything changes
The birds
The nerds
The smiles
The styles
The cries
The lies…
Things change
To reach the best
Or the worst
Range…
Everything changes
With time
The chimes
The rhymes
The mime
The laughs
The rafts
The pile
The vile
Things change
That's strange…
poem by Hebert Logerie
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Sonnet- 'Tis Easiest Listening to God
All things we do, may not be good for us;
Some things we yearn for, God denies for goods;
Nevertheless, we must never God curse;
He knows soul's poison's from virtuous foods.
We can't-expect miracles all the-time;
Sometimes, God allows us to struggle much;
Our sufferings could turn our lives sublime;
God heals the wounds of heart with Grace's touch.
Yet, God prefers all souls to heed to Him;
Each one is meant to do some special things;
And yet, the soul should be most pure and trim.
For Heaven's skies needs Birds with righteous wings!
And when we listen to whatever God tells;
We will some day surely toll Heaven's bells.
poem by John Celes
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These Foolish Things
(strachey/marvell/ link)
A cigarette that bears a lipstick's traces,
An airline ticket to romantic places,
And still my heart has wings...
These foolish things remind me of you.
A tinkling piano in the next apartment,
Those stumbling words that told you what my heart meant,
A fairground's painted swings...
These foolish things remind me of you.
You came, you saw,
You conquered me.
When you did that to me,
I knew somehow this had to be.
The winds of march that made my heart a dancer,
A telephone that rings,
And who's to answer?
Oh, how the ghost of you clings...
These foolish things remind me of you.
The first daffodil and long excited cables,
And candle lights on little corner tables,
And still my heart has wings...
These foolish things remind me of you.
The park at evening when the bell has sounded,
The 'ile-de-france' with all the gulls around it,
The beauty that is spring's...
These foolish things remind me of you.
How strange, how sweet
To find you still,
These things are dear to me,
They seem to bring you near to me.
The sigh of midnight trains in empty stations,
Silk stockings tossed aside, dance invitations.
Oh, how the ghost of you clings!
These foolish things remind me of you...
These foolish things remind me of you.
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear Class
Graduation itself is quite epic
We have achieved the biggest milestone
We feel satisfied and happy
Relaxed in who we have become
Our relationships we have formed
These past 12 years will mold us
And forever change our character.
To our mothers we owe our love
For the endless support
To our fathers we owe our thanks
For the building of our projects
But next there is the big world
Where people work fast and hard
In a way we have not yet known
We have made a brilliant start
But that is all it is, a start
Next we need to open up
To new things and new people
We need to tackle bigger things
And make our contribution
We will need to be leaders
We will need to care for our family
We will need to be more intelligent
We will need to see the bigger picture
We will change the world
Of course we can do it
Of course we have the brains
But it is not a test
It is the human race.
When Will Things Change
the world is unworthy and things countine to be dirty when will things change. when the world is full of mess and people just countine to strees, when will things change. when the streets are some of our homes never knowing why were alone, when will the world change. people cry at night just to give up a fight, when will things change. when you need to cry and you need someone 'why' when will things change.
when the world is sour and people have way to much power, when will things change. crying about the past, the things that never last. when will things change. when the world around you is cold, and shared feelings never seem to bold when will things change. when the world comes at you fast and ever part of your stress continues to last. when will things change.
poem by Katie Patterson
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Hey Whatever
Bryan:
Well I can't control the universe
Cause I'm only a man
And I've been reading the papers
But they won't tell me who I am
Shane:
If you really need a new philosophy
Well there's one that makes sense
The one I profess but I say
Chorus: (All)
Hey whatever
Let your beauty come alive
Let your colour fill the sky
And say whatever
Why don't you liberate your mind
Let your colour fill the sky
Shane:
All the world's a waiting room
And we're standing in line
For the answers to the question
"What makes this fine?"
Mark:
Don't let them change your story
Won't let them change your song
Don't let the gurus and philosophers lead you on
Ahh...
Chorus: (All)
Hey whatever
Let your beauty come alive
Let your colour fill the sky
And say whatever
Why don't you liberate your mind
Let your colour fill the sky
Mark:
Wooo!
It's like taking a seat at the roulette table
Just spinning the wheel
Good or bad just take what comes
Don't change how you feel
You're a champion of science
Or are y'just some freak show's fool
What can not be proved, no no
Can still be true
And I say
Chorus: (All)
Hey whatever
Let your beauty come alive
Let your colour fill the sky
And say whatever
Why don't you liberate your mind
Let your colour fill the sky
Chorus: (All)
Hey whatever
Let your beauty come alive
Let your colour fill the sky
And say whatever
Why don't you liberate your mind
Let your colour fill the sky
Ahhh...
Heeey whatever
song performed by by Westlife
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pretty Woman
I
That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers,
And the blue eye
Dear and dewy,
And that infantine fresh air of hers!
II
To think men cannot take you, Sweet,
And enfold you,
Ay, and hold you,
And so keep you what they make you, Sweet!
III
You like us for a glance, you know—
For a word's sake
Or a sword's sake,
All's the same, whate'er the chance, you know.
IV
And in turn we make you ours, we say—
You and youth too,
Eyes and mouth too,
All the face composed of flowers, we say.
V
All's our own, to make the most of, Sweet—
Sing and say for,
Watch and pray for,
Keep a secret or go boast of, Sweet!
VI
But for loving, why, you would not, Sweet,
Though we prayed you,
Paid you, brayed you
in a mortar—for you could not, Sweet!
VII
So, we leave the sweet face fondly there:
Be its beauty
Its sole duty!
Let all hope of grace beyond, lie there!
VIII
And while the face lies quiet there,
Who shall wonder
That I ponder
A conclusion? I will try it there.
IX
As,—why must one, for the love foregone,
Scout mere liking?
Thunder-striking
Earth,—the heaven, we looked above for, gone!
X
Why, with beauty, needs there money be,
Love with liking?
Crush the fly-king
In his gauze, because no honey-bee?
XI
May not liking be so simple-sweet,
If love grew there
'Twould undo there
All that breaks the cheek to dimples sweet?
XII
Is the creature too imperfect,
Would you mend it
And so end it?
Since not all addition perfects aye!
XIII
Or is it of its kind, perhaps,
Just perfection—
Whence, rejection
Of a grace not to its mind, perhaps?
XIV
Shall we burn up, tread that face at once
Into tinder,
And so hinder
Sparks from kindling all the place at once?
XV
Or else kiss away one's soul on her?
Your love-fancies!
—A sick man sees
Truer, when his hot eyes roll on her!
XVI
Thus the craftsman thinks to grace the rose,—
Plucks a mould-flower
For his gold flower,
Uses fine things that efface the rose:
XVII
Rosy rubies make its cup more rose,
Precious metals
Ape the petals,—
Last, some old king locks it up, morose!
XVIII
Then how grace a rose? I know a way!
Leave it, rather.
Must you gather?
Smell, kiss, wear it—at last, throw away!
poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Margaret
I KNOW a garden where white lilies grow,
Under the grey sweet-laden apple boughs;
It is a garden where the roses blow,
And honeysuckle covers half the house.
O happy garden, do you keep the vows
Breathed in your quiet ear beneath the rose,
Or do you tell the tale to each soft wind that blows?
Across your grassy paths she used to stray,
She moved among you like a living flower,
Her beauty drank your beauty every day,
Your beauty decked her beauty every hour.
You gave her rose and lily for a dower,
With all sweet flowers and fruits your bosom bore--
She took them all--and now she comes not any more.
O garden, if you breathe such secret things
To the south wind who loves you, tell him this:
To spread the scented softness of his wings,
And seek that other garden where she is,
And bid him bear no blossom and no kiss;
Only, dear garden, tell the wind to say
How grey the world is grown since Margaret went away!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Women and Roses
I
I dream of a red-rose tree.
And which of its roses three
Is the dearest rose to me?
II
Round and round, like a dance of snow
In a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go
Floating the women faded for ages,
Sculptured in stone, on the poet's pages.
Then follow women fresh and gay,
Living and loving and loved to-day.
Last, in the rear, flee the multitude of maidens,
Beauties yet unborn. And all, to one cadence,
They circle their rose on my rose tree.
III
Dear rose, thy term is reached,
Thy leaf hangs loose and bleached:
Bees pass it unimpeached.
IV
Stay then, stoop, since I cannot climb,
You, great shapes of the antique time!
How shall I fix you, fire you, freeze you,
Break my heart at your feet to please you?
Oh, to possess and be possessed!
Hearts that beat 'neath each pallid breast!
Once but of love, the poesy, the passion,
Drink but once and die!—In vain, the same fashion,
They circle their rose on my rose tree.
V
Dear rose, thy joy's undimmed,
Thy cup is ruby-rimmed,
Thy cup's heart nectar-brimmed.
VI
Deep, as drops from a statue's plinth
The bee sucked in by the hyacinth,
So will I bury me while burning,
Quench like him at a plunge my yearning,
Eyes in your eyes, lips on your lips!
Fold me fast where the cincture slips,
Prison all my soul in eternities of pleasure,
Girdle me for once! But no—the old measure,
They circle their rose on my rose tree.
VII
Dear rose without a thorn,
Thy bud's the babe unborn:
First streak of a new morn.
VIII
Wings, lend wings for the cold, the clear!
What is far conquers what is near.
Roses will bloom nor want beholders,
Sprung from the dust where our flesh moulders.
What shall arrive with the cycle's change?
A novel grace and a beauty strange.
I will make an Eve, be the artist that began her,
Shaped her to his mind!—Alas! in like manner
They circle their rose on my rose tree.
poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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