To his Friends of Christ-Church upon the mislike of the Marriage of the Arts acted at Woodstock
But is it true, the Court mislik't the Play,
That Christ-Church and the Arts have lost the day;
That Ignoramus should so far excell,
Their Hobby-horse from ours hath born the Bell?
Troth you are justly serv'd, that would present
Ought unto them, but shallow merriment;
Or to your Marriage-table did admit
Guests that are stronger far in smell then wit.
Had some quaint Bawdry larded ev'ry Scene,
Some fawning Sycophant, or courted queane;
Had there appear'd some sharp cross-garter'd man
Whom their loud laugh might nick-name Puritan,
Cas'd up in factious breeches and small ruffe,
That hates the surplis, and defies the cuffe: Then sure they would have given applause to crown
That which their ignorance did now cry down.
Let me advise, when next you do bestow
Your pains on men that do but little know,
You do no Chorus nor a Comment lack,
Which may expound and construe ev'ry Act:
That it be short and slight; for if 't be good
Tis long, and neither lik't nor understood.
Know tis Court fashion still to discommend
All that which they want brain to comprehend.
poem by Henry King
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
This Court
This court is
Not final court.
It has got no
Unlimitted power.
This court is
Not empower to
Pass final judgement
And final decree.
The order of
This court is
Not binding.
This court has
No discretionary power
This court lacks
Original jurisdiction.
This court is
Not a real court.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A New England Valentine
O, SWEET little maid of a Puritan line,
O, dear little maid of a Puritan town,
On the morn of that saint whom they name Valentine,
I am asking a boon,—and I pray do not frown;
For, coy little Puritan maid of to-day,
I ask but a quaint little Puritan "Yea."
Look around on the walls of your Puritan home,
Where your prim lady ancestors hang in a row,
In quaint little kerchiefs, in cap and in comb;
Take counsel by them, dear, for well do you know
You would not be here, little maiden, to-day
If they had not spoken that Purtian "Yea."
Your pride is in them, and your faith and your love;
Ah, is there not some overflowing for me?
They lived long ago, and they hang far above,
I am nearer and younger,—Ah, cannot it be?
Then send me an answer this Valentine's day,
But pray it be not that cold Puritan "Nay!"
poem by Abbie Farwell Brown from The New England Magazine / Volume 21, Issue 6 (1897)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Searching For a Church?
After your long and weary search, have you found the perfect church?
A simple church ruled by men; the perfect church you can’t condemn.
Or do they all appear the same, just another building with His Name?
And once inside you’re not sure, if you feel the presence of The Lord.
There’s only one true Church of God, upon this earth that all men trod.
That is The Church of Jesus Christ, and bought by Jesus, with His life.
God’s Church has no denomination, for in Christ is only one Salvation.
His Church has no walls my friend; it has a beginning but has no end.
Christ’s Church began at Pentecost, not for the righteous, but the lost.
His Church is made of sinful men, whom by God were all condemned.
But redeemed with a special price, when His Son became a sacrifice.
Then dipped into a cleansing flood; sinners purified by Christ’s Blood.
Are you looking to men to find, God’s forgiveness and peace of mind?
My friend, are you truly not that sure, where you can go to be secure?
Christ’s first Church had no steeple, and was filled with humble people.
Humble people who gave their life, to reach the world for Jesus Christ.
If you’re still searching for a church, you should end your weary search.
The Church is men like you and me, saved by Christ’s work on Calvary.
Nothing’s been added to the cross, except sinners who once were lost,
Since, they’ve entered in The Door, and now belong to Christ The Lord.
(Copyright ©04/2006)
To My Valentine
More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or the Axis hates the United States,
That's how much I love you.
I love you more than a duck can swim,
And more than a grapefruit squirts,
I love you more than a gin rummy is a bore,
And more than a toothache hurts.
As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a hostess detests unexpected guests,
That's how much you I love.
I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than the subway jerks,
I love you as much as a beggar needs a crutch,
And more than a hangnail irks.
I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As the High Court loathes perjurious oathes,
That's how you're love by me.
poem by Ogden Nash
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Gina (Limerick)
There once was a sheila named Gina
she would chase from this site a hyena.
So she grabs their small balls
hurls them over the falls
then comes back as a ballerina.
She is good, also fair as a critic
and she hates matters hippocritic
since she likes what I write
and gives others a fright
I would call her brain analytic.
Long ago when I lived in Badena
I was married to Wilhelmina.
But the marriage went bust
no, it didn't lack lust
it is just that I was a Berliner.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Daddy Long-Legs and the Fly
Once Mr Daddy Long-Legs,
Dressed in brown and gray,
Walked about upon the sands
Upon a summer's day;
And there among the pebbles,
When the wind was rather cold,
He met with Mr Floppy Fly,
All dressed in blue and gold.
And as it was too soon to dine,
They drank some Periwinkle-wine,
And played an hour or two, or more,
At battlecock and shuttledore.
Said Mr Daddy Long-legs
To Mr Floppy Fly,
'Why do you never come to court?
I wish you'd tell me why.
All gold and shine, in dress so fine,
You'd quite delight the court.
Why do you never go at all?
I really think you ought!
And if you went, you'd see such sights!
Such rugs! and jugs! and candle-lights!
And more than all, the King and Queen,
One in red, and one in green!'
'O Mr Daddy Long-Legs,'
Said Mr Floppy Fly,
'It's true I never go to court,
And I will tell you why.
If I had six long legs like yours,
At once I'd go to court!
But Oh! I can't, because my legs
Are so extremely short.
And I'm afraid the King and Queen
(One in red and one in green)
Would say aloud, 'You are not fit,
You Fly, to come to court a bit.'
O Mr Daddy Long-Legs,'
Said Mr Floppy Fly,
'I wish you'd sing one little song!
One mumbian melody!
You used to sing so awful well
In former days gone by,
But now you never sing at all;
I wish you'd tell me why:
For if you would, the silvery sound
Would please the shrimps and cockles round,
And all the crabs would gladly come
To hear you sing, 'Ah, Hum di Hum!''
Said Mr Daddy Long-Legs,
'I can never sing again!
And if you wish, I'll tell you why,
Although it gives me pain.
For years I could not hum a bit,
Or sing the smallest song;
And this the dreadful reason is,
My legs are grown too long!
My six long legs, all here and there,
Oppress my bosom with despair;
And if I stand, or lie, or sit,
I cannot sing one single bit!'
So Mr Daddy Long-Legs
And Mr Floppy Fly
Sat down in silence by the sea,
And gazed upon the sky.
They said, 'This is a dreadful thing!
The world has all gone wrong,
Since one has legs too short by half,
The other much too long!
One never more can go to court,
Because his legs have grown too short;
The other cannot sing a song,
Because his legs have grown too long!'
Then Mr Daddy Long-Legs
And Mr Floppy Fly
Rushed downward to the foaming sea
With one sponge-taneous cry;
And there they found a little boat
Whose sails were pink and gray;
And off they sailed among the waves
Far, and far away.
They sailed across the silent main
And reached the great Gromboolian plain;
And there they play for evermore
At battlecock and shuttledore.
poem by Edward Lear
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Vox Ecclesiae, Vox Christi
Not 'neath the altar only,—yet, in sooth,
There more than elsewhere,—is the cry, “How long?”
The right sown there hath still borne fruit in wrong—
The wrong waxed fourfold. Thence, (in hate of truth)
O'er weapons blessed for carnage, to fierce youth
From evil age, the word hath hissed along:—
“Ye are the Lord's: go forth, destroy, be strong:
Christ's Church absolves ye from Christ's law of ruth.”
Therefore the wine-cup at the altar is
As Christ's own blood indeed, and as the blood
Of Christ's elect, at divers seasons spilt
On the altar-stone, that to man's church, for this,
Shall prove a stone of stumbling,—whence it stood
To be rent up ere the true Church be built.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Regent's Court
Regent's court
Is the court were the police brings the criminals to be sentenced
Every singe day during the week
Some criminals caused serious offences in the city
That they need to be punished by the Regent's court
Also some of the Judges will be hard on the criminals
Because they need to pay for what they done to their victims
And the crown procecutor also works with the judges at Regent's court
But the criminals have their lawyers at the court that defends the Criminals because the criminals are their clients
When the day comes for the judges at the Regent's Court to deliver The sentence for each criminal every single day they will be there At The Regent's Court every single day giving the sentence to the criminals depending on what crime they commited like assault, Domestic violence, child abuse,
Drug trafficking, manslaughter, and murder
For first degree murder is 25 years and for the second degree murder is less
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Annunciation And Passion
TAMELY, frail body, abstain to-day ; to-day
My soul eats twice, Christ hither and away.
She sees Him man, so like God made in this,
That of them both a circle emblem is,
Whose first and last concur ; this doubtful day
Of feast or fast, Christ came, and went away ;
She sees Him nothing, twice at once, who's all ;
She sees a cedar plant itself, and fall ;
Her Maker put to making, and the head
Of life at once not yet alive, yet dead ;
She sees at once the Virgin Mother stay
Reclused at home, public at Golgotha ;
Sad and rejoiced she's seen at once, and seen
At almost fifty, and at scarce fifteen ;
At once a son is promised her, and gone ;
Gabriell gives Christ to her, He her to John ;
Not fully a mother, she's in orbity ;
At once receiver and the legacy.
All this, and all between, this day hath shown,
Th' abridgement of Christ's story, which makes one—
As in plain maps, the furthest west is east—
Of th' angels Ave, and Consummatum est.
How well the Church, God's Court of Faculties,
Deals, in sometimes, and seldom joining these.
As by the self-fix'd Pole we never do
Direct our course, but the next star thereto,
Which shows where th'other is, and which we say
—Because it strays not far—doth never stray,
So God by His Church, nearest to him, we know,
And stand firm, if we by her motion go.
His Spirit, as His fiery pillar, doth
Lead, and His Church, as cloud ; to one end both.
This Church by letting those days join, hath shown
Death and conception in mankind is one ;
Or 'twas in Him the same humility,
That He would be a man, and leave to be ;
Or as creation He hath made, as God,
With the last judgment but one period,
His imitating spouse would join in one
Manhood's extremes ; He shall come, He is gone ;
Or as though one blood drop, which thence did fall,
Accepted, would have served, He yet shed all,
So though the least of His pains, deeds, or words,
Would busy a life, she all this day affords.
This treasure then, in gross, my soul, uplay,
And in my life retail it every day.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Who Actually Killed Christ?
Christ came to die for you and me and on the cross He set us free,
Freed from a life of sin and pain, freed my friend to be Born-Again.
Everyone who looks to the cross shall be saved from eternal loss,
Jesus came to save all who are lost and on Calvary He paid the cost.
It was the determination of God you see to nail His Son upon a tree,
Though He died at the hands of men God foreknew just how and when.
It was Satan's biggest loss for Christ claimed Victory on the cross,
It pleased God, at His Son's cost, as He saved sinners who were lost.
Worldly wisdom could not see that religion played a part at Calvary,
God's sign that The Law did end was when the temple curtain was rent.
God ended any need for religious dross when He turned to the cross,
With man now redeemed at the cross man's religion has been tossed.
Religion doesn't set men free, but only the finished work on Calvary,
Men's rules still leave you in sin, only in Christ are you forgiven.
The true Church of the Bloody Cross started on the day of Pentecost.
From that day at all cost believers have sought out all who are lost.
Man didn't say but God decreed that Jesus was pierced for you and me.
It was by His Father that Jesus was sent to be the Savior of all men.
It pleased God to use the cross to shed His blood to save the lost.
And He will judge all who scoff and in the Fire they will be tossed.
What Do Good Works Do?
What will a good life do for you, when your earthly life is through?
All the good you proudly say, you’ve done for men along the way.
Good deeds by men can be good; however it must be understood,
That our works won’t take the place, of The Lord’s amazing Grace.
Good works friend play no part, of God’s true conversion of a heart.
Your good works may be in vain, if you do not embrace The Name,
The only name in Heaven raised, by which all men must be saved.
Will all your good works of the past, well into eternity forever last?
Or will they be buried along side, your earthly body that also died?
Are you ignoring God’s Love, working your way to Heaven above?
Forgetting what God has done, by sending His only begotten Son.
We’re not saved by good deeds, but by God’s work upon Calvary,
His finished work on the cross, through Jesus saves all those lost.
For it is His Grace that saves us, when in Christ we place our trust.
Was the good work in your life, done for the glory of Jesus Christ?
Good works won’t move the Lord, if Christ His Only Son is ignored.
Do your works match the price, paid on the cross by Jesus Christ?
When you accept Jesus Christ, God’s works will flow from your life,
Works prepared for all who believe, that will continue on in eternity.
When your works are of The Lord, you will inherit an eternal reward,
Don’t you want to see your works, turned by God into eternal perks?
(Copyright ©06/2006)
Elegy for Jonathan, the Prince
stately tall you meekly stand
on your finger the signet band
for my sake you shunned your crown
for my breath your devotion fierce
you gave for me your sword and squire
your hospitality did never tire
proud brothers in battle or play
companions going about each day
in your shadow I had no care
my home's cupboards were never bare
song and merriment never missed
hunger a stranger to my lips
your place at court set second to mine
your heart pure - best fruit of vine
your eyes reflect esteem so dear
no man's affection held so near
O gallant Prince in battle slain
my soul cries out for you in pain
Saul's crown you've set upon my head -
a long-held secret I shan't covet
My lord, one could never repay;
the debt of friendship's love dismay?
to live this life as noble and true
to generously care and give as you
Prince of the Realm, if you could hear
the Scroll of the Upright, loud and clear
in the Song of the Bow proclaimed
praise of our filial bond inscribed.
`
poem by Frederick Kesner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ode to King Saul's Son
'
stately tall you meekly stand
on your finger the signet band
for my sake you shunned your crown
for my breath your devotion fierce
you gave for me your sword and squire
your hospitality did never tire
proud brothers in battle or play
companionly we went about each day
in your shadow I had no care
my home's cupboards were never bare
song and merriment never missed
hunger a stranger to my lips
your place at court set second to mine
your heart pure - best fruit of the vine
your eyes reflect esteem so dear
no man's affection held so near
O gallant Prince in battle slain
my soul cries out for you in pain
why you've set Saul's crown on my head -
a long-held secret I shan't covet
My lord, could one ever repay;
the debt of friendship's love dismay?
to live this life as noble and true
to generously care and give as you
Prince of the Realm, if you could hear
the Scroll of the Upright, loud and clear
in the Song of the Bow proclaimed
praise of our filial bond inscribed.
'
poem by Frederick Kesner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You were like a angel surrounded with sunshine
In the pool of the fountain
the sky reflect cobalt blue
and shadows fall over the inner court
and there are images sprouting up
whirling in my brain about you and me
in the pool of the fountain
and you were like a angel surrounded with sunshine
and dripping wet we embraced each other there
and shadows fall over the inner court
and even the wind blows with a chorus
and there are pure white lilies that I look at,
in the pool of the fountain
and the time with you was noble, was totally pure
or so everybody was thinking and we kept the countenance of it
and shadows fall over the inner court
drawing the two of us, line after line
and the sky is now reflecting dull blue
in the pool of the fountain
and shadows fall over the inner court.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lent
Welcome dear feast of Lent: who loves not thee,
He loves not Temperance, or Authority,
But is compos'd of passion.
The Scriptures bid us fast; the Church says, now:
Give to thy Mother, what thou wouldst allow
To ev'ry Corporation.
The humble soul compos'd of love and fear
Begins at home, and lays the burden there,
When doctrines disagree,
He says, in things which use hath justly got,
I am a scandal to the Church, and not
The Church is so to me.
True Christians should be glad of an occasion
To use their temperance, seeking no evasion,
When good is seasonable;
Unless Authority, which should increase
The obligation in us, make it less,
And Power itself disable.
Besides the cleanness of sweet abstinence,
Quick thoughts and motions at a small expense,
A face not fearing light:
Whereas in fulness there are sluttish fumes,
Sour exhalations, and dishonest rheums,
Revenging the delight.
Then those same pendant profits, which the spring
And Easter intimate, enlarge the thing,
And goodness of the deed.
Neither ought other men's abuse of Lent
Spoil the good use; lest by that argument
We forfeit all our Creed.
It's true, we cannot reach Christ's forti'eth day;
Yet to go part of that religious way,
Is better than to rest:
We cannot reach our Saviour's purity;
Yet we are bid, 'Be holy ev'n as he, '
In both let's do our best.
Who goeth in the way which Christ hath gone,
Is much more sure to meet with him, than one
That travelleth by-ways:
Perhaps my God, though he be far before,
May turn and take me by the hand, and more:
May strengthen my decays.
Yet Lord instruct us to improve our fast
By starving sin and taking such repast,
As may our faults control:
That ev'ry man may revel at his door,
Not in his parlour; banqueting the poor,
And among those his soul.
poem by George Herbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ignorance drowned me
his ill gotten wealth
the party splashes
the flashy cars,
all things go dinners,
the champagne, the
businesswomen,
sycophants, the
rowdiness
the smell of decadence
the smell of perversity
cronyists despots
all that i can take
it is the smell of ignorance
the lack of knowledge,
of the arts, of literature,
of things that really prop up
the mind, soul and the world
that really drown me
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Vanitas! Vanitatum Vanitas!
MY trust in nothing now is placed,
Hurrah!
So in the world true joy I taste,
Hurrah!
Then he who would be a comrade of mine
Must rattle his glass, and in chorus combine,
Over these dregs of wine.
I placed my trust in gold and wealth,
Hurrah!
But then I lost all joy and health,
Lack-a-day!
Both here and there the money roll'd,
And when I had it here, behold,
From there had fled the gold!
I placed my trust in women next,
Hurrah!
But there in truth was sorely vex'd,
Lack-a-day!
The False another portion sought,
The True with tediousness were fraught,
The Best could not be bought.
My trust in travels then I placed,
Hurrah!
And left my native land in haste.
Lack-a-day!
But not a single thing seem'd good,
The beds were bad, and strange the food,
And I not understood.
I placed my trust in rank and fame,
Hurrah!
Another put me straight to shame,
Lack-a-day!
And as I had been prominent,
All scowl'd upon me as I went,
I found not one content.
I placed my trust in war and fight,
Hurrah!
We gain'd full many a triumph bright,
Hurrah!
Into the foeman's land we cross'd,
We put our friends to equal cost,
And there a leg I lost.
My trust is placed in nothing now,
Hurrah!
At my command the world must bow,
Hurrah!
And as we've ended feast and strain,
The cup we'll to the bottom drain;
No dregs must there remain!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Do Canadians Comprehend
Why are Canadians forbidden death with dignity now?
Why has our secret-list appointed Supreme Court disallowed?
Why did they forbid Sue Rodriguez who was in great pain?
With Lou Gehrig's disease while her life slowly drained.
Is it religion, faith, their divine power or some other cause?
Or are they looking for friendly applause somewhere, just because?
Because this is a very serious life and death matter,
For all Canadians when their lives might be shattered.
While Ottawa Supreme Court aristocrats float above the ground,
While we are in great Lou Gehrig pain down here and they look down,
And our party politicians have their own agenda to attend,
Do they think they will never die so no need to comprehend?
poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
God’s Final Remnant
Judgment will start in God’s Church, among all men who weekly perch,
Upon the pews looking their best, for some, only how they’re dressed.
In God’s Judgment, sound and sure, all false believers will not endure,
Those who have knowingly denied, to make heart change deep inside.
God will sift the Soldiers of Christ, from all who have no changed life,
Judging those, who do not belong, to His True Blood Bought Throng.
Just like the sheep and the goats, judging him, who spiritually gloats,
Through exalting them self, in pride, above those, who in Christ abide.
Some with a pure and contrite heart, serving God and doing their part,
Are at times hurt by others within, Christ’s Body when they tolerate sin,
And some, may not even belong, ignoring what we deem to be wrong,
Causing much hurt and undue strife, to members who truly love Christ.
How long will God’s Spirit contend, with all those who merely pretend,
That they belong to Christ’s Church, even without a true spiritual birth?
Bringing a Body that bears His name, time and again, hurt and shame,
Unconverted souls women and men, in the Church but not Born Again.
A remnant, God had used before, and a remnant, He’ll use once more,
This, at the end of this present age, before Christ turns that final page,
God will end with a remnant of those, who truly follow Christ who rose,
A final remnant, who truly believed, in the One, who they truly received.
(Copyright ©09/2009)
Church & The Perfect Fit
Too loose.Too long.Too short.Too big.Too small.
Describes most of the clothes we wear.
Like finding the right church that's the perfect fit
Is always a struggle of hope, patience and prayer.
God wants us to fit together with one another
With our beliefs, attitudes, patriotism and love.
No church is perfect cause their run by men
As we assemble our souls to praise Heaven above.
David wrote; 'I Know O Lord Your judgement is right'
For he was aware of what happens when we stray
It helps us maintain our moral servitude
When we gather at church, sing, worship and pray.
Christ takes each sin, each pain, each loss,
So that our lives exalt His name.
And by the power of His sacrifice upon the cross
He transforms our brokeness, weakness and shame.