The Australian Emigrant
How dazzling the sunbeams awoke on the spray,
When Australia first rose in the distance away,
As welcome to us on the deck of the bark,
As the dove to the vision of those in the ark!
What fairylike fancies appear’d to the view
As nearer and nearer the haven we drew!
What castles were built and rebuilt in the brain,
To totter and crumble to nothing again!
We had roam’d o’er the ocean—had travers’d a path,
Where the tempest surrounded and shriek’d in its wrath:
Alike we had roll’d in the hurricane’s breath,
And slumber’d on waters as silent as death:
We had watch’d the Day breaking each morn on the main,
And had seen it sink down in the billows again;
For week after week, till dishearten’d we thought
An age would elapse ere we enter’d the port.
How often while ploughing the ‘watery waste’,
Our thoughts—from the Future have turn’d to the Past;
How often our bosoms have heav’d with regret;
For faces and scenes we could never forget:
For we’d seen as the shadows o’er-curtain’d our minds
The cliffs of old England receding behind;
And had turned in our tears from the view of the shore,
The land of our childhood, to see it no more.
But when that red morning awoke from its sleep,
To show us this land like a cloud on the deep;
And when the warm sunbeams imparted their glow,
To the heavens above and the ocean below;
The hearts had been aching then revell’d with joy,
And a pleasure was tasted exempt from alloy;
The souls had been heavy grew happy and light
And all was forgotten in present delight.
’Tis true—of the hopes that were verdant that day
There is more than the half of them withered away:
’Tis true that emotions of temper’d regret,
Still live for the country we’ll never forget;
But yet we are happy, since learning to love
The scenes that surround us—the skies are above,
We find ourselves bound, as it were by a spell,
In the clime we’ve adopted contented to dwell.
poem by Henry Kendall
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The Merchant Ship
The Sun o’er the waters was throwing
In the freshness of morning its beams;
And the breast of the ocean seemed glowing
With glittering silvery streams:
A bark in the distance was bounding
Away for the land on her lee;
And the boatswain’s shrill whistle resounding
Came over and over the sea.
The breezes blew fair and were guiding
Her swiftly along on her track,
And the billows successively passing,
Were lost in the distance aback.
The sailors seemed busy preparing
For anchor to drop ere the night;
The red rusted cables in fathoms
Were haul’d from their prisons to light.
Each rope and each brace was attended
By stout-hearted sons of the main,
Whose voices, in unison blended,
Sang many a merry-toned strain.
Forgotten their care and their sorrow,
If of such they had ever known aught,
Each soul was wrapped up in the morrow—
The morrow which greeted them not;
A sunshiny hope was inspiring
And filling their hearts with a glow
Like that on the billows around them,
Like the silvery ocean below.
As they looked on the haven before them,
Already high looming and near,
What else but a joy could invade them,
Or what could they feel but a cheer?
The eve on the waters was clouded,
And gloomy and dark grew the sky;
The ocean in blackness was shrouded,
And wails of a tempest flew by;
The bark o’er the billows high surging
’Mid showers of the foam-crested spray,
Now sinking, now slowly emerging,
Held onward her dangerous way.
The gale in the distance was veering
To a point that would drift her on land,
And fearfully he that was steering
Look’d round on the cliff-girdled strand.
He thought of the home now before him
And muttered sincerely a prayer
That morning might safely restore him
To friends and to kind faces there.
He knew that if once at the mercy
Of the winds and those mountain-like waves
The sun would rise over the waters—
The day would return on their graves.
Still blacker the heavens were scowling,
Still nearer the rock-skirted shore;
Yet fiercer the tempest was howling
And louder the wild waters roar.
The cold rain in torrents came pouring
On deck thro’ the rigging and shrouds,
And the deep, pitchy dark was illumined
Each moment with gleams from the clouds
Of forky-shap’d lightning as, darting,
It made a wide pathway on high,
And the sound of the thunder incessant
Re-echoed the breadth of the sky.
The light-hearted tars of the morning
Now gloomily watching the storm
Were silent, the glare from the flashes
Revealing each weather-beat form,
Their airy-built castles all vanished
When they heard the wild conflict ahead;
Their hopes of the morning were banished,
And terror seemed ruling instead.
They gazed on the heavens above them
And then on the waters beneath,
And shrunk as foreboding those billows
Might shroud them ere morrow in death.
Hark! A voice o’er the tempest came ringing,
A wild cry of bitter despair
Re-echoed by all in the vessel,
And filling the wind-ridden air.
The breakers and rocks were before them
Discovered too plain to their eyes,
And the heart-bursting shrieks of the hopeless
Ascending were lost in the skies.
Then a crash, then a moan from the dying
Went on, on the wings of the gale,
Soon hush’d in the roar of the waters
And the tempest’s continuing wail.
The “Storm Power” loudly was sounding
Their funeral dirge as they passed,
And the white-crested waters around them
Re-echoed the voice of the blast.
The surges will show to the morrow
A fearful and heartrending sight,
And bereaved ones will weep in their sorrow
When they think of that terrible night.
The day on the ocean returning
Saw still’d to a slumber the deep—
Not a zephyr disturbing its bosom,
The winds and the breezes asleep.
Again the warm sunshine was gleaming
Refulgently fringing the sea,
Its rays to the horizon beaming
And clothing the land on the lee.
The billows were silently gliding
O’er the graves of the sailors beneath,
The waves round the vessel yet pointing
The scene of their anguish and death.
They seemed to the fancy bewailing
The sudden and terrible doom
Of those who were yesterday singing
And laughing in sight of their tomb.
’Tis thus on the sea of existence—
The morning begins without care,
Hope cheerfully points to the distance,
The Future beams sunny and fair;
And we—as the bark o’er the billows,
Admiring the beauty of day,
With Fortune all smiling around us—
Glide onward our silvery way.
We know not nor fear for a sorrow
Ever crossing our pathway in life;
We judge from to-day the to-morrow
And dream not of meeting with strife.
This world seems to us as an Eden
And we wonder when hearing around
The cries of stern pain and affliction
How such an existence is found.
But we find to our cost when misfortune
Comes mantling our sun in its night,
That the Earth was not made to be Heaven,
Not always our life can be bright.
In turn we see each of our day-dreams
Dissolve into air and decay,
And learn that the hopes that are brightest
Fade soonest—far soonest away.
poem by Henry Kendall
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A life on the ocean wave
A life on the ocean wave,
A home on the rolling deep,
Where the scattered waters rave,
And the winds their revels keep!
Like an eagle caged, I pine
On this dull, unchanging shore:
Oh! give me the flashing brine,
The spray and the tempest's roar!
Once more on the deck I stand
Of my own swift-gliding craft:
Set sail! farewell to the land!
The gale follows fair abaft.
We shoot through the sparkling foam
Like an ocean-bird set free; -
Like the ocean-bird, our home
We'll find far out on the sea.
The land is no longer in view,
The clouds have begun to frown;
But with a stout vessel and crew,
We'll say, Let the storm come down!
And the song of our hearts shall be,
While the winds and the waters rave,
A home on the rolling sea!
A life on the ocean wave!
poem by Epes Sargent
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Happy Thoughts, Happy Thoughts, Think Happy Thoughts
I have to keep reminding myself to forget you.
Forget you and me.
(Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, think happy thoughts.)
You wanted me to promise to never say it again
Those three words
(Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, think happy thoughts)
Which is laughably easy to do right now because
We are so far out of touch I couldn’t reach you if I tried
(Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, think happy thoughts)
So I plod through grey days and inky dark nights
Heavy laden with regret
(Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, think happy thoughts)
Tomorrow I will remind myself to forget you.
Forget you and me.
12-25-07
djlw
poem by Shannon Wright
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I'm Only Happy When
I'm only happy when it rains
without a cloud in the sky
I'm only happy in these chains
all that I can do is cry
I'm only happy when I bleed
it let's me know I'm alive
I'm only happy when I need
just myself to survive
I'm only happy when I dream
of my long lost love
I'm only happy when I scream
at the Heavens above
I'm only happy when I'm alone
at war with my brain
I'm only happy when I've known
that life is just pain
I'm only happy when I'm lost
and I can't find my way
I'm only happy when I've crossed
the path of disarray
I'm only happy when I see
death is my way out
I know I'll be free
I have no doubt
I'm only happy when I'm told
that I've gone insane
I'm only happy when I hold
all these thoughts in my brain
I'm only happy when I sleep
and go out of my mind
I'm only happy when I'm in too deep
I'm only happy when it's me you cannot find
poem by Haley Nicole
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Oh, no! We Never Mention Her Parody
Oh no! we never mention her, whose name’s a major crime,
my lips are sealed and privy shields, short memory has Time!
From vote to vote they whip me on, to skip regret, and yet,
although the Poll Tax ain’t to be, I never can forget:
They bid me seek in Brussels’ clique the charms that others see,
but tunnels dug neath channel tug tug deep alarms to me,
‘tis true the view of outfit blue is gone from where we met,
I cannot see free enterprise, - I tries, but can’t forget!
For, oh there are hints near and far recall the past to me,
statistics on the dole, (which mole?) are wholly out at sea;
the rosy tint that still may deck the House – election’s set –
aye every vote I dote upon forbids me to forget!
They tell me she is happy now, and from Divisions free,
they hint that she forgets my need, I heed not, disagree,
perhaps like me she struggles with each feeling of regret, -
but if new Acts lack faith, each fills with facts one can’t forget!
Press fills the page with Major, thrills to say that he’s a match –
unless the wager Labour kills, to start again from scratch, -
but every thatch in every home appears a safer bet,
and there’s a catch, when new plots hatch, one never can forget!
© Jonathan Robin – Poem written 1 August 1991
Parody Thomas Haynes BAYLY – O No! We Never mention Him
Oh, No! We Never Mention Him
Oh no! we never mention him, his name is never heard;
My lips are now forbid to speak that once familiar word:
From sport to sport they hurry me, to banish my regret;
And when they win a smile from me they think that I forget.
They bid me seek a change of scene the charms that others see;
But were I in a foreign land, they'd find no change in me.
'Tis true that I behold no more the valley where we met,
I do not see the hawthorn-tree but how can I forget?
For oh! There are so many things recall the past to me, -
The breeze upon the sunny hills, the billows of the sea;
The rosy tint that decks the sky before the sun is set; -
Ay, every leaf I look upon forbids me to forget,
They tell me he is happy now, the gayest of the gay;
They hint that he forgets me too, - but I heed not what they say:
Perhaps like me he struggles with each feeling of regret;
But if he loves as I have loved, he never can forget.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Western Eyes
Forgotten throes at anothers lie,
The heart of love is their only light,
Faithless greeds consolidating,
Holding down sweet charity,
With western eyes and serpent's breath,
We lay our own conscience to rest.
But i'll aching,
At the view,
Yes i'm breaking,
At the scenes just like you.
They have values of a certain taste,
The innocent they can hardly wait,
To crucify invalidating,
Turning to dishonesty.
With western eyes and serpent's breath
They lay their own conscience to rest.
But then they lie and then they dare to be,
Hidden heroes candidly.
So i'm aching,
At the view,
Yes i'm breaking,
At the scenes just like you.
I feel so cold,
On hookers and gin,
This mess we're in.
song performed by by Portishead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Insomnia
Thin are the night-skirts left behind
By daybreak hours that onward creep,
And thin, alas! the shred of sleep
That wavers with the spirit's wind:
But in half-dreams that shift and roll
And still remember and forget,
My soul this hour has drawn your soul
A little nearer yet.
Our lives, most dear, are never near,
Our thoughts are never far apart,
Though all that draws us heart to heart
Seems fainter now and now more clear.
To-night Love claims his full control,
And with desire and with regret
My soul this hour has drawn your soul
A little nearer yet.
Is there a home where heavy earth
Melts to bright air that breathes no pain,
Where water leaves no thirst again
And springing fire is Love's new birth?
If faith long bound to one true goal
May there at length its hope beget,
My soul that hour shall draw your soul
For ever nearer yet.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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The Late W. V. Wild, Esq.
SAD FACES came round, and I dreamily said
“Though the harp of my country now slumbers,
Some hand will pass o’er it, in love for the dead,
And attune it to sorrowful numbers!”
But the hopes that I clung to are withering things,
For the days have gone by with a cloud on their wings,
And the touch of a bard is unknown to the strings—
Oh, why art thou silent, Australia?
The leaves of the autumn are scattering fast,
The willows look barren and lonely;
But I dream a sad dream of my friend of the past,
And his form I can dwell upon only!
In the strength of his youth I can see him go by.
There is health on the cheek, and a fire in the eye—
Oh, who would have thought that such beauty could die!
Ah, mourn for thy noblest, Australia!
A strange shadow broods o’er the desolate earth,
And the cypresses tremble and quiver;
But my heart waxeth dark with the thoughts of the worth
That has left us for ever and ever!
A dull cloud creepeth close to the moon,
And the winter winds pass with a shuddering croon—
Oh, why was he snatched from his brothers so soon?
Ah, weep for thy lost one, Australia!
How weary we grow when we turn to reflect
Upon what we have seen and believed in;
When harping on promises hopelessly wrecked,
And the things we have all been deceived in!
When a voice that I loved lingers near to me yet!
And a kind, handsome face which I’ll never forget—
Can I wake to the present and stifle regret—
Can I smother these feelings, Australia?
It is useless to grieve o’er the light that has fled
But the harp of my country still slumbers;
And I thought that some bard in his love for the dead,
Would have thrilled it to sorrowful numbers!
Lo, the hopes that I clung to are withering things
For the days have gone by with a cloud on their wings,
And my hand is too feeble to strike at the strings—
Oh, why art thou silent, Australia?
poem by Henry Kendall
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The Adieu
We part, and thou art mine no more!
I go through seas never sought before,
Where stars unknown to our native skies
Startle the mariner's watchful eyes.
Our bark shall over the waters sweep,
And rouse the children of the deep:
Around us, 'midst the silvery spray,
With glittering scales shall the dolphins play.
When scarcely flutters the snowy sail,
Gently waved by the whispering gale,
I shall gaze in the ocean's liquid glass,
And mark the hidden treasures we pass:
The amber and coral groves that glow
In the sparkling sunbeams that dart below,
Whose lucid and spreading boughs between
Countless flitting forms are seen.
Oh! could I beneath the billows dive,
And in that world of splendour live!
Were there a cave for thee and me
Beneath that bright and silent sea,
Which waves conceal and rocks surround,
Like that the Island loves found*.
Strange and solemn was the hour
That saw them reach that secret bower;—
Some love-lorn seamaid's deep abode,
Or palace of the ocean god.
Long had Hoonga's inmost cells
Echoed to the mournful tone
Of the waves among the shells,
And the winds that feebly moan:
But never to music so sad, so sweet,
As the vows they breathed in that lone retreat.
But, ah! our bark glides swiftly on,
And my vision of that cave is gone,
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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The Bells Of Ostend
No, I never, till life and its shadows shall end,
Can forget the sweet sound of the bells of Ostend!
The day set in darkness, the wind it blew loud,
And rung as it passed through each murmuring shroud.
My forehead was wet with the foam of the spray,
My heart sighed in secret for those far away;
When slowly the morning advanced from the east,
The toil and the noise of the tempest had ceased;
The peal from a land I ne'er saw, seemed to say,
'Let the stranger forget every sorrow to-day!'
Yet the short-lived emotion was mingled with pain,
I thought of those eyes I should ne'er see again;
I thought of the kiss, the last kiss which I gave,
And a tear of regret fell unseen on the wave;
I thought of the schemes fond affection had planned,
Of the trees, of the towers, of my own native land.
But still the sweet sounds, as they swelled to the air,
Seemed tidings of pleasure, though mournful to bear,
And I never, till life and its shadows shall end,
Can forget the sweet sound of the bells of Ostend!
poem by William Lisle Bowles
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Where The Land Meets The Ocean
The great white waves of the Pacific how loudly they do roar
And crash against the volcanic rocks that guard the ocean shore
The silver gulls above the beach are calling as they fly
And the terns dive in shallow waters for small sea things from the sky,
The feeling is so refreshing on your skin saltwater spray
'Tis nice to be by the ocean on a breezy Autumn day
In a place far off of the highway and far from the noisy street
A place where Nature reign Supreme where the land and ocean meet
The huge surf waves are rolling foamy and white as snow
At the awesome power of Nature my wonder only grow
Though not a seafaring person from land I love to watch the big waves roll
It has been a watery grave for many an ocean out of control
Where the land meets the ocean on a March evening in the Fall
A memory for to cherish and in the future to recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Morning
Hues of the rich unfolding morn,
That, ere the glorious sun be born,
By some soft touch invisible
Around his path are taught to swell; -
Thou rustling breeze so fresh and gay,
That dancest forth at opening day,
And brushing by with joyous wing,
Wakenest each little leaf to sing; -
Ye fragrant clouds of dewy steam,
By which deep grove and tangled stream
Pay, for soft rains in season given,
Their tribute to the genial heaven; -
Why waste your treasures of delight
Upon our thankless, joyless sight;
Who day by day to sin awake,
Seldom of Heaven and you partake?
Oh, timely happy, timely wise,
Hearts that with rising morn arise!
Eyes that the beam celestial view,
Which evermore makes all things new!
New every morning is the love
Our wakening and uprising prove;
Through sleep and darkness safely brought,
Restored to life, and power, and thought.
New mercies, each returning day,
Hover around us while we pray;
New perils past, new sins forgiven,
New thoughts of God, new hopes of Heaven.
If on our daily course our mind
Be set to hallow all we find,
New treasures still, of countless price,
God will provide for sacrifice.
Old friends, old scenes will lovelier be,
As more of Heaven in each we see:
Some softening gleam of love and prayer
Shall dawn on every cross and care.
As for some dear familiar strain
Untired we ask, and ask again,
Ever, in its melodious store,
Finding a spell unheard before;
Such is the bliss of souls serene,
When they have sworn, and stedfast mean,
Counting the cost, in all t' espy
Their God, in all themselves deny.
Oh, could we learn that sacrifice,
What lights would all around us rise!
How would our hearts with wisdom talk
Along Life's dullest, dreariest walk!
We need not bid, for cloistered cell,
Our neighbour and our work farewell,
Nor strive to wind ourselves too high
For sinful man beneath the sky:
The trivial round, the common task,
Would furnish all we ought to ask;
Room to deny ourselves; a road
To bring us daily nearer God.
Seek we no more; content with these,
Let present Rapture, Comfort, Ease,
As Heaven shall bid them, come and go:-
The secret this of Rest below.
Only, O Lord, in Thy dear love
Fit us for perfect Rest above;
And help us, this and every day,
To live more nearly as we pray.
poem by John Keble
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The Sea Loving People
The true sea loving people never live far from the sea
They pine if the ocean they can't hear or see
The feel of the sea spray where the wild breakers roar
Where huge waves pound the stony cliffs overlooking the shore.
They can only live near to where the surf waves roll
And to them the breath of the sea air is good for the soul
In towns by the ocean they grow old and gray
From salt-water they could not live far away.
The sea loving people enjoy the coastal sunshine
Inland from the ocean they surely would pine
To live two miles from the ocean for them does seem far
Though in distance that only a short drive by car.
The sea loving people love the rumble of the big surf waves
In cemetery close to the cliffs are their ancestors graves
They would pine if they could not hear the sea breakers roar
They only could live in towns near the Sea-shore.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Devoted Friends
(jack hues)
If you have to leave after all that weve
Been through, been through
Been through
I cant be a friend if your heart has the end
In view, in view
In view
Chorus:
Because lovers never can be
Just devoted friends
How can we meet on a day in the week
And be true, be true
Be true
And how can I speak and pretend that Im happy for you
For you, for you
Repeat chorus
How can we meet on a day in the week
And be true, be true
Be true
And how can I speak and pretend that Im happy for you
For you, for you
song performed by by Wang Chung
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cliffs
They sing of the grandeur of cliffs inland,
But the cliffs of the ocean are truly grand;
And I long to wander and dream and doubt
Where the cliffs by the ocean run out and out.
To the northward far as the eye can reach
Are sandhill, boulder, and sandy beach;
But southward rises the track for me,
Where the cliffs by the ocean run out to sea.
Friends may be gone in the morning fair,
But the cliffs by the ocean are always there;
Lovers may leave when the wind is chill,
But the cliffs by the ocean are steadfast still.
They watch the sea and they ward the land,
And they warn the ships from the treacherous sand;
And I sadly think in the twilight hour
What I might have been had I known my power.
Where the smoke-cloud blurs and the white sails fill,
They point the ships to keep seaward still;
And I think—Ah, me!—and I think—Ah, me!
Of the wreck I’d saved had I kept to sea.
Oh! the cliffs are old and the cliffs are sad,
And they know me sane, while men deem me mad.
Oh! the cliffs are firm and the cliffs are strong,
And they know me right, while men deem me wrong.
And I sometimes think in the dawning gray,
I am old as they, I am old as they;
And I think, I think that in field and town
My spirit shall live till the cliffs come down.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Orison (Give me your smile)
Waves meet the end
When the ocean reach the land
Water the sand, before your feet
Two worlds meet
The future is far way, at the end of the world
In the horizon still our wonder
High mountain we climbed
Seek for this secret, far sighted distance
Nothing...Do you see the end? ...Nothing
We can't see the ending of everything
Now we learned, future is unpredictable
Not yet to cherish
Not yet to cry
Look back the past
Broken dreams pull your tears
Don't cry my dear soon it will over
All we got not will always be good
Because, It's not heaven we live on
Always have true hopes, never get down
So smile for a little, keep hopes alive
Chase on the light
In depth of the dark
Could be faint but still bright
Bright and brighter when it's dark and darker
Remember
The past has gone
The future still untold
We need the light to move on
Stay in sadness or seek for happiness
Shed you tears, don't cry my dear
Paradise is not where we living now
To promise you will happy forever
Just give your smile to me
I'll lend my hand for you
We will cross the ocean,
Chase the basement of the rainbow
Till we reach the horizon
The end of the world
If we are the ships, lost in the ocean
All we need, a direction
You as a captain with options
Decide your choice
To sink in the middle or
To harbor your dream
Remember
Far in the ocean
As the waves will meet the end
As it wash the sand
Soon we will find a land
Back home and safe from the stormy seas..
The hope always exist for whom believe it
The dark is forever if we deny the present of the light
-ORISON is the Introduction of my upcoming poems, collectively
known as 'Rise from The Ashes (RFTA) '..and the theme is about to be free.
I try to bring some dark more, but in positive..
it wont be sad as it still come from my hand, Unwritten Soul hahahahaha
Inspired by people, I not promise the collection of RFTA will be good or perfect write coz i am not good writer, i just can offer what i can give, my thought and support..Sorry it this introduction still have some weak somewhere, just write it right now...: P
1st poem from RFTA: End of Time
poem by Unwritten Soul
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The Song Of An Emigrant
Far away! O far away,
Over the wide sea's bounding spray,
Many a league o'er the pelting foam.
We seek a country, we seek a home!
Farewell, England! our native land,
Lingering still on thy verdant strand,
We look our last on thy once-loved shore,
And vow in our hearts to return no more.
Far away! O far away!
Nothing invites us here to stay.
England, our mother, is hard as stone,
And shuts her ear to her children's moan,
And running on to destruction sure,
Pampers the rich, and grinds the poor!
Farewell, England! A last farewell!
We fly thy shores, but we wish thee well.
Far away! O far away!
We seek a world o'er the ocean spray.
Welcome, O land across the sea,
Where bread is plenty, and man is free;
Welcome, the woods and deserts drear,
And boundless fields of another sphere.
Our sails are set, and the breezes swell,
England, Our country--Farewell! Farewell!
poem by Charles Mackay
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An Emblem of Life
Oh! Life is like the summer rill, where weary daylight dies;
We long for morn to rise again, and blush along the skies:
For dull and dark that stream appears, whose waters in the day,
All glad, in conscious sunniness, went dancing on their way.
But when the glorious sun hath 'woke, and look'd upon the earth,
And over hill and dale there float the sounds of human mirth;
We sigh to see day hath not brought its perfect light to all,
For with the sunshine on those waves, the silent shadows fall.
Oh! like that changeful summer rill our years go gliding by,
Now bright with joy, now dark with tears, before youth's eager eye.
And thus we vainly pant for all the rich and golden glow,
Which young Hope, like an early sun, upon its course can throw,
Soon o'er our half illumined hearts the stealing shadows come,
And every thought that 'woke in light receives its share of gloom;
And we weep while joys and sorrows both are fading from our view,
To find, wherever sunbeams fall, the shadow cometh too.
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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True Love It Was
With the true feelings of my heart I love you. Why did you leave me? You gave such a cold reaction by saying to me, forget the past. How can past be forgotten? True lovers can never forget love which they shared. Not even a thank you or sorry can make up for it because it was true love. Our hearts matched together and we became complete. Although, it could last for only a little while. This is my one and only regret since I forever wanted to be with you. With you I would have shared love, true love.
poem by Rohit Sapra
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To A Gentleman On His Voyage To Great-Britain For The Recovery Of His Health
WHILE others chant of gay Elysian scenes,
Of balmy zephyrs, and of flow'ry plains,
My song more happy speaks a greater name,
Feels higher motives and a nobler flame.
For thee, O R-----, the muse attunes her strings,
And mounts sublime above inferior things.
I sing not now of green embow'ring woods,
I sing not now the daughters of the floods,
I sing not of the storms o'er ocean driv'n,
And how they howl'd along the waste of heav'n.
But I to R----- would paint the British shore,
And vast Atlantic, not untry'd before:
Thy life impair'd commands thee to arise,
Leave these bleak regions and inclement skies,
Where chilling winds return the winter past,
And nature shudders at the furious blast.
O thou stupendous, earth-enclosing main
Exert thy wonders to the world again!
If ere thy pow'r prolong'd the fleeting breath,
Turn'd back the shafts, and mock'd the gates of death,
If ere thine air dispens'd an healing pow'r,
Or snatch'd the victim from the fatal hour,
This equal case demands thine equal care,
And equal wonders may this patient share.
But unavailing, frantic is the dream
To hope thine aid without the aid of him
Who gave thee birth and taught thee where to flow,
And in thy waves his various blessings show.
May R----- return to view his native shore
Replete with vigour not his own before,
Then shall we see with pleasure and surprise,
And own thy work, great Ruler of the skies!
poem by Phillis Wheatley
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