SONNET. To Patience
Down stormy passions, down; no more
Let your rude waves invade the shore
Where blushing reason sits and hides
Her from the fury of your tides.
Fit onely 'tis where you bear sway
That Fools or Franticks do obey;
Since judgment, if it not resists,
Will lose it self in your blind mists.
Fall easie Patience, fall like rest
Whose soft spells charm a troubled breast:
And where those Rebels you espy,
O in your silken cordage tie
Their malice up! so shall I raise
Altars to thank your power, and praise
The soveraign vertue of your Balm,
Which cures a Tempest by a Calm.
poem by Henry King
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Related quotes
Reasons For Destruction
Religious warlords to keep us in line.
Dogmatic armies to worship the shrine.
Fanatical leaders across the earth,
Religious wars for us all to curse.
To do and obey to their every need,
With open arms we fall foul to their greed.
One God one Master, we do and obet.
Non-believers slaughtered in the wake of decay.
The church for sinners, their darkest hour.
Holy men preaching holy lies.
Too blind to see the Mighty one's smile,
Who cares if we live or die.
To do and obey...
Flies in a web we fall prey to them all.
God the redeemer the ultimate power,
Dogs to their masters, we answer their call.
Your money not your soul, that's their desire.
To do and obey...
Ain't no reason
Ain't no reason
Ain't no reasons for destruction.
Just done, under blind instruction.
Ain;t no, reasons for destruction.
Just done, under blind instruction.
song performed by by Xentrix
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reasons For Destruction
Religious warlords to keep us in line.
Dogmatic armies to worship the shrine.
Fanatical leaders across the earth,
Religious wars for us all to curse.
To do and obey to their every need,
With open arms we fall foul to their greed.
One God one Master, we do and obet.
Non-believers slaughtered in the wake of decay.
The church for sinners, their darkest hour.
Holy men preaching holy lies.
Too blind to see the Mighty one's smile,
Who cares if we live or die.
To do and obey...
Flies in a web we fall prey to them all.
God the redeemer the ultimate power,
Dogs to their masters, we answer their call.
Your money not your soul, that's their desire.
To do and obey...
Ain't no reason
Ain't no reason
Ain't no reasons for destruction.
Just done, under blind instruction.
Ain;t no, reasons for destruction.
Just done, under blind instruction.
song performed by by Xentrix
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Memoriam A. H. H.: 11. Calm is the morn without a sound
Calm is the morn without a sound,
Calm as to suit a calmer grief,
And only thro' the faded leaf
The chestnut pattering to the ground:
Calm and deep peace on this high wold,
And on these dews that drench the furze.
And all the silvery gossamers
That twinkle into green and gold:
Calm and still light on yon great plain
That sweeps with all its autumn bowers,
And crowded farms and lessening towers,
To mingle with the bounding main:
Calm and deep peace in this wide air,
These leaves that redden to the fall;
And in my heart, if calm at all,
If any calm, a calm despair:
Calm on the seas, and silver sleep,
And waves that sway themselves in rest,
And dead calm in that noble breast
Which heaves but with the heaving deep.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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First Verses
TRANSLATION FROM THE ENEID, BOOK I.
THE god looked out upon the troubled deep
Waked into tumult from its placid sleep;
The flame of anger kindles in his eye
As the wild waves ascend the lowering sky;
He lifts his head above their awful height
And to the distant fleet directs his sight,
Now borne aloft upon the billow's crest,
Struck by the bolt or by the winds oppressed,
And well he knew that Juno's vengeful ire
Frowned from those clouds and sparkled in that fire.
On rapid pinions as they whistled by
He calls swift Zephyrus and Eurus nigh
Is this your glory in a noble line
To leave your confines and to ravage mine?
Whom I--but let these troubled waves subside--
Another tempest and I'll quell your pride!
Go--bear our message to your master's ear,
That wide as ocean I am despot here;
Let him sit monarch in his barren caves,
I wield the trident and control the waves
He said, and as the gathered vapors break
The swelling ocean seemed a peaceful lake;
To lift their ships the graceful nymphs essayed
And the strong trident lent its powerful aid;
The dangerous banks are sunk beneath the main,
And the light chariot skims the unruffled plain.
As when sedition fires the public mind,
And maddening fury leads the rabble blind,
The blazing torch lights up the dread alarm,
Rage points the steel and fury nerves the arm,
Then, if some reverend Sage appear in sight,
They stand--they gaze, and check their headlong flight,--
He turns the current of each wandering breast
And hushes every passion into rest,--
Thus by the power of his imperial arm
The boiling ocean trembled into calm;
With flowing reins the father sped his way
And smiled serene upon rekindled day.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Rocked In The Cradle Of The Deep
Rocked in the cradle of the deep
I lay me down in peace to sleep;
Secure I rest upon the wave,
For Thou, O Lord! hast power to save.
I know Thou wilt not slight my call,
For Thou dost mark the sparrow's fall;
And calm and peaceful shall I sleep,
Rocked in the cradle of the deep.
When in the dead of night I lie
And gaze upon the trackless sky,
The star-bespangled heavenly scroll,
The boundless waters as they roll, -
I feel Thy wondrous power to save
From perils of the stormy wave:
Rocked in the cradle of the deep,
I calmly rest and soundly sleep.
And such the trust that still were mine,
Though stormy winds swept o'er the brine,
Or though the tempest's fiery breath
Roused me from sleep to wreck and death.
In ocean cave, still safe with Thee
The germ of immortality!
And calm and peaceful shall I sleep,
Rocked in the cradle of the deep.
poem by Emma Hart Willard
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Sonnet LXVI: The Night-Flood Rakes
The night-flood rakes upon the stony shore;
Along the rugged cliffs and chalky caves
Mourns the hoarse Ocean, seeming to deplore
All that are buried in his restless waves—
Mined by corrosive tides, the hollow rock
Falls prone, and rushing from its turfy height,
Shakes the broad beach with long-resounding shock,
Loud thundering on the ear of sullen Night;
Above the desolate and stormy deep,
Gleams the wan Moon, by floating mist opprest;
Yet here while youth, and health, and labour sleep,
Alone I wander—Calm untroubled rest,
"Nature's soft nurse," deserts the sigh-swoln breast,
And shuns the eyes, that only wake to weep!
poem by Charlotte Smith
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The Storm Keeps Coming
The Storm Keeps Coming 14th Jan 2010 by shirani ibrahim Published on 01/14/2010
Winter Spring Summer or Fall… alone with sadly none to call,
The stormy waves keeps coming greedily… an effort to rise with every fall.
Time after time…. the cruel waves that hunger so mercilessly,
Day after day they seem to be getting rougher closer deliberately…
Where do one go from here and where can one go..
The stormy waves that keep dashing rapidly to and fro
Eats the sandy shore so very insensitively
Till the end of time when earth makes a resting bed so graciously…
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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I dread the calm
I dread the calm in the morning of a mourn without a sound
It is a calm that comes to foster a greater grief
It is a calm light of dusk before ever dew was falling from leaves
It is a calm sinking in calm pattering to the ground
I fear the calm and scudding winds in the high wold
And on the dews the drench the gorse
And all the silvery gossamer
Shaken into gilded gold
Is it calm and still in the dusky light over great plains
That sweeps late and swiftly in autumn bowers
Of secluded farms and solitary towers
To merge with the bounding and the saint
Is it calm on the vast sea under the spangled silver sleep
The waves that sway in colossus to lull themselves to rest
And the dead calm in the deepening breast
Which heaves with the heaving deep
Yet calm is the mute peace in the meadow’s air
The forest gloom with loom of leaves that redden to fall
And in my chest if calm can ever dwell at all
If any calm is there, it is the calm of despair
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Wake Me
Should I have a taste of this
start and croush your nails
And start all over again
Could this all just be a dream
If I should fall to stormy weather
Wake me, wake me
yeah
Maybe this time I can do it all wrong
Without my foot in my mouth
Without that blind in my sight
Could this all just be a dream
if i should fall to stormy weather
wake me, wake me
yeah
2x
uhh,uhh
Too scared to lose the one
I tried so hard for
Too scared to lose the one
I never had
2x
(sorry if some words aren't correct ,i'm german ^_^)
song performed by by Linkin Park
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
As in a sack some thing washed in:
And lay amidst the shells
And pebbles of the shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
One eye was closed the other open
And on her golden hair
Were drops of red:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
How many winters rude have skimmed
Their frozen fingers on the white breast
Of the pale moon-lit lake a-dreaming sound
How many a Spring of green
Has come and gone:
Since that ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
Her clothes that rich were tattered were
Unseemly with the smoke of cigars
And the drunk smell of alcohol
Her look was wild and sad and raw:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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The sea by night
The sea at night is not calm,
The scudding foaming waves sound the alarm
The savage winds abrasive, feverishly court the waves
Rejected, they continue upon the surf into the rocky caves
The night-high tide solemn, rakes upon the stony shore;
Along the rugged cliffs and chalky ivory caves
Mourns the hoarse ocean, suffocating seeming to deplore
All that are buried in his restless agitated craves
Into the mined by corrosive tides, of the hollow rock
The waves rushed climbing, rushing to its turf height,
Falling back to relentless shakes with long-resounding shock,
Loud dire thundering on the ear of sullen dreadful night;
Again and again in relentless endless train of unearthly attire
Like long swaying tongues of consuming fire
The waves bounce hitting the fall prone rock
There once upon its peak thrived a nest of a family duck
Above the desolate and stormy deep unrest,
Gleams the wan moon, in gloom by floating mist depprest;
The light towers on vexed shore stand wrapped in blanket of foam
The sea is not quite, the sun is shy reclusive at the bells of dawn
Where is Nature's nurture and calming soft nurse
By wrath or by rage Nature lend us its curse
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Why Do Fools Fall In Love?
Why do fools fall in love?
Why do birds sing so gay
And lovers await the break of day
Why do they fall in love
Why does the rain fall from up above
Why do fools fall in love
Why do they fall in love
Love is a losing game
Love can be a shame
I know of a fool you see
That fool is me
Why do fools fall in love?
Why do birds sing so gay
And lovers await the break of day
Why do they fall in love
Why does the rain fall from up above
Why do fools fall in love
Why do they fall in love
Why does my heart skip this crazy beat
Because it knows
It will reach defeat
Tell me why, tell me why
Why do fools fall in love?
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Praise God on High
Praise God on High
He sits there and knows why
The reason for each housefly
From fungi to the pie
Even those far and nearby
Praise God on High
The Owner of the Sky
The sweetness of July
The secrets of my Sigh
He knows them all
He sees my fall
With love install
I hear no yawl.
He is what nature's sprawl
The snowfall, the menthol, the cat call.
My faults he does not recall
Everything in Him is so beautiful.
Praise! Praise God on High
For He has the Perfect Eye.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Why Do Fools Fall In Love
(f. lymon/g. goldner)
Ooh wah, ooh wah
Ooh wah, ooh wah
Ooh wah, ooh wah
Why do fools fall in love?
Why do birds sing so gay
And lovers await the break of the day
Why do they fall in love?
Why does the rain fall from up above?
Why do fools fall in love?
Why do they fall in love?
Love is a losing game
Love can be a shame
I know, Im a fool you see
For that fool is me
Tell me why
Tell me why
Why do birds sing so gay
And lovers await the break of the day
Why do they fall in love?
Why does the rain fall from up above?
Why do fools fall in love?
Why do they fall in love?
Why does my heart
Skip a crazy beat?
For I know
It will reach defeat
Tell me why
Tell me why
Why do fools fall in love?
Tell me why
Tell me why
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From Boethius: De Consolatione Philosophiae; Book III. Metre 5
The man who pants for ample sway,
Must bid his passions all obey;
Must bid each wild desire be still,
Nor yoke his reason with his will:
For though beneath thy haughty brow
Warm India's supple sons should bow,
Though northern climes confess thy sway,
Which erst in frost and freedom lay,
If Sorrow pine, or Avarice crave,
Bow down and own thyself a slave.
poem by Samuel Johnson
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My Birthday
Beneath the moonlight and the snow
Lies dead my latest year;
The winter winds are wailing low
Its dirges in my ear.
I grieve not with the moaning wind
As if a loss befell;
Before me, even as behind,
God is, and all is well!
His light shines on me from above,
His low voice speaks within,--
The patience of immortal love
Outwearying mortal sin.
Not mindless of the growing years
Of care and loss and pain,
My eyes are wet with thankful tears
For blessings which remain.
If dim the gold of life has grown,
I will not count it dross,
Nor turn from treasures still my own
To sigh for lack and loss.
The years no charm from Nature take;
As sweet her voices call,
As beautiful her mornings break,
As fair her evenings fall.
Love watches o'er my quiet ways,
Kind voices speak my name,
And lips that find it hard to praise
Are slow, at least, to blame.
How softly ebb the tides of will!
How fields, once lost or won,
Now lie behind me green and still
Beneath a level sun.
How hushed the hiss of party hate,
The clamor of the throng!
How old, harsh voices of debate
Flow into rhythmic song!
Methinks the spirit's temper grows
Too soft in this still air;
Somewhat the restful heart foregoes
Of needed watch and prayer.
The bark by tempest vainly tossed
May founder in the calm,
And he who braved the polar frost
Faint by the isles of balm.
Better than self-indulgent years
The outflung heart of youth,
Than pleasant songs in idle ears
The tumult of the truth.
Rest for the weary hands is good,
And love for hearts that pine,
But let the manly habitude
Of upright souls be mine.
Let winds that blow from heaven refresh,
Dear Lord, the languid air;
And let the weakness of the flesh
Thy strength of spirit share.
And, if the eye must fail of light,
The ear forget to hear,
Make clearer still the spirit's sight,
More fine the inward ear!
Be near me in mine hours of need
To soothe, or cheer, or warn,
And down these slopes of sunset lead
As up the hills of morn!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Couplets on Wit
I
But our Great Turks in wit must reign alone
And ill can bear a Brother on the Throne.
II
Wit is like faith by such warm Fools profest
Who to be saved by one, must damn the rest.
III
Some who grow dull religious strait commence
And gain in morals what they lose in sence.
IV
Wits starve as useless to a Common weal
While Fools have places purely for their Zea.
V
Now wits gain praise by copying other wits
As one Hog lives on what another sh---.
VI
Wou'd you your writings to some Palates fit
Purged all you verses from the sin of wit
For authors now are so conceited grown
They praise no works but what are like their own.
poem by Alexander Pope
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Two Sons
I HAVE two sons, wife—
Two, and yet the same;
One his wild way runs, wife,
Bringing us to shame.
The one is bearded, sunburnt, grim, and fights across the sea,
The other is a little child who sits upon your knee.
One is fierce and cold, wife,
As the wayward deep;
Him no arms could hold, wife,
Him no breast could keep.
He has tried our hearts for many a year, not broken them; for he
Is still the sinless little one that sits upon your knee.
One may fall in fight, wife—
Is he not our son?
Pray with all your might, wife,
For the wayward one;
Pray for the dark, rough soldier, who fights across the sea,
Because you love the little shade who smiles upon your knee.
One across the foam, wife,
As I speak may fall;
But this one at home, wife,
Cannot die at all.
They both are only one; and how thankful should we be,
We cannot lose the darling son who sits upon your knee!
poem by William Cosmo Monkhouse
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Your shore
It reaches to your shore
To admire and adore
You stand alone
Wait all alone to watch for the days gone
I see you from far off to shore
Raise my level to touch your face therefore
You still shy away and run towards forest
I try and double my efforts to catch you at the best
For the whole day I am burnt with sunrays
It doesn't give me any clue or way
You are not far but not too close either
I strike the shore with force but often wonder
I shall raise the waves again and dare
To take you with me some where
Where no one may be able to reach
You and me only to look at each
You failed to absorb my depth
It was deep, kind and smooth
There was no need to get fear
As you belonged to me and were very dear
I remain calm whole day
With reddish appearance in sky
I look at it and loose calmness
Just to double the efforts to look at the face
You mesmerized me this before and escaped
Waves have fallen back and capped
I have to rush again and wash the shore
With hope to wash your leg's dirt some more
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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On a Stormy Night
Out in the sea on a stormy night
With the wind sweeping in fury all around
The racing clouds veiling the moon from sight
Leaving the land for Darkness to surround
The soft sibilance of waves
Growing into a tumultuous roar
The rising tides touching heaven's seams
And the foamy surf breaking in wild uproar
No beacon to brighten up the gloom
Nor a brave soul around to seek for aid
Face to face with imminent doom
He struggled to wrench through dreads' ugly hold
On a Benign force, his faith strongly lain
With hope newly springing in his manly chest
Braving the tides and routing the pain
He pushed the oars and paddled to the coast.
poem by Valsa George
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