Laughing and Sneering
WHAT tho' the world does me ill turns
And cares my life environ;
I’d sooner laugh with Bobbie Burns
Than sneer with titl'd Byron.
The smile has always been the best;
’Tis stronger than the frown, sirs:
And Venus smiled the waves to rest;
She didn’t sneer them down, sirs.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Myself Without You
When you walked out that door
I was so sure my world had ended
So sure I'd never get over you
On that first night alone
I cried so many tears it scared me
So many dreams that I had to let go
But now I know
That the world still turns and the sun still burns
And that's what I've learned without you
And the days roll on and my heart gets stronger too
Don't think I didn't love you
Just because I made it through
But I learned to love myself
Without you
I take myself to dinner
And I go to the movies solo
That's something I never did before
You may not understand this
But I don't' wait on invitations
I'm not afraid of the great unknown
Of being alone cause the
The world still turns and the sun still burns
And that's what I've learned without you
And the days roll on and my heart gets stronger too
Don't think I didn't love you
Just because I made it through
But I learned to love myself
Without you
I can even see myself
Falling in love with somebody else
Ready to take that chance again
Cause I know now
What I didn't know then
That the world still turns and the sun still burns
And that's what I've learned without you
And the days roll on and my heart gets stronger too
Don't think I didn't love you
Just because I made it through
But I learned to love myself
Without you
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Carol
Our Lord Who did the Ox command
To kneel to Judah's King,
He binds His frost upon the land
To ripen it for Spring --
To ripen it for Spring, good sirs,
According to His Word.
Which well must be as ye can see --
And who shall judge the Lord?
When we poor fenmen skate the ice
Or shiver on the wold,
We hear the cry of a single tree
That breaks her heart in the cold --
That breaks her heart in the cold, good sirs,
And rendeth by the board.
Which well must be as ye can see --
And who shall judge the Lord?
Her wood is crazed and little worth
Excepting as to burn,
That we may warm and make our mirth
Until the Spring return --
Until the Spring return, good sirs,
When Christians walk abroad;
When well must be as ye can see --
And who shall judge the Lord?
God bless the master of this house,
And all who sleep therein!
And guard the fens from pirate folk,
And keep us all from sin,
To walk in honesty, good sirs,
Of thought and deed ad word!
Which shall befriend our latter end....
And who shall judge the Lord?
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Statue of Robert Burns
To a town in Southern land
Light of purse I come and lone;
And I pause awhile, and stand
By a pedestal of stone;
And I bend my head and bow
While my heart to Scotland turns,
For I know I’m standing now
‘Neath the form of Robbie Burns.
Round the corners of the lips
Lines of laughter seem to run;
From the merry eye there slips
Just a twinkle as of fun.
Living in the sculptor’s art,
Set in stone, mine eye discerns
All the beauty, and a part
Of the soul, of Robert Burns.
One of Caledonia’s sons,
Coming lonely to the land.
Well might think he’d met a friend
Who would take him by the hand,
And the tears spring to his eyes,
While his heart for friendship yearns;
And from out that heart he cries,
“Heaven bless ye, Bobbie Burns.”
“Unto me, as unto you,
Has a hard world done ill turns;
And the sorrows that you knew
I am learning Bobbie Burns.
But I’ll keep my heart above
Until, after many moons,
I return to friends I love,
And to banks line bonnie Doon’s.”
poem by Henry Lawson
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Russia to the Pacifists
1918
God rest you, peaceful gentlemen, let nothing you dismay,
But--leave your sports a little while--the dead are borne
this way!
Armies dead and Cities dead, past all count or care.
God rest you, merry gentlemen, what portent see you there?
Singing:--Break ground for a wearied host
That have no ground to keep.
Give them the rest that they covet most . . .
And who shall next to sleep, good sirs,
In such a trench to sleep?
God rest you, peaceful gentlemen, but give us leave to pass.
We go to dig a nation's grave as great as England was.
For this Kingdom and this Glory and this Power and this Pride
Three hundred years it flourished--in three hundred days it
died.
Singing:--Pour oil for a frozen throng,
That lie about the ways.
Give them the warmth they have lacked so
long . . .
And what shall be next to blaze, good sirs,
On such a pyre to blaze?
God rest you, thoughtful gentlemen, and send your sleep is light!
Remains of this dominion no shadow, sound, or sight,
Except the sound of weeping and the sight of burning fire,
And the shadow of a people that is trampled into mire.
Singing:--Break bread for a starving folk
That perish in the field.
Give them their food as they take the yoke . . .
And who shall be next to yield, good sirs,
For such a bribe to yield?
God rest you merry gentlemen, and keep you in your mirth!
Was ever Kingdom turned so soon to ashes, blood and earth?
'Twixt the summer and the snow-seeding-time and frost--
Arms and victual, hope and counsel, name and country lost!
Singing:--Let down by the foot and the head--
Shovel and smooth it all !
So do we bury a Nation dead . . .
And who shall be next to fall, good sirs,
With your good help to fall?
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Fashions
Fashion on fashion on fashion,
(With only the truth growing old!)
And here's the new purple of passion,
(And love waiting out in the cold)
Who'll buy?
They are crying new lamps for Aladdin,
New worlds for the old and the true;
And no one remembers the story
_The magic was not in the new._
They are crying a new rose for Eden,
A rose of green glass. I suppose
The only thing wrong with their rose is
The fact that it isn't a rose.
Who'll buy?
And here is a song without metre;
And, here again, nothing is wrong;
(For nothing on earth could be neater)
Except that--it isn't a song.
Well. Walk on your hands. It's the latest!
And feet are Victorian now;
And even our best and our greatest
Before that dread epithet bow.
Who'll buy?
The furniture goes for a song, now.
The sixties had horrible taste.
But the trouble is this--they've included
Some better things, too, in their haste.
Were they wrapped in the antimacassars,
Or sunk in a sofa of plush?
Did an Angelican bishop forget them,
And leave them behind in the crush?
Who'll buy?
Here's a turnex. It's going quite cheaply.
(It lived with stuffed birds in the hall!
And, of course, to a mind that thinks deeply
That settles it, once and for all.)
Here's _item_, a ring (very plain, sirs!),
And _item_, a God (but He's dead!);
They say we shall need Him again, sirs,
So--_item_, a cross for His head.
Who'll buy?
Yes, you'll need it again, though He's dead, sirs.
It is only the fashions that fly.
So here are the thorns for His head, sirs.
They'll keep till you need 'em. Who'll buy?
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Smile Or Frown
Pairs of opposites
Half of them parasites
In the lives of mortals
Invading their portals!
Smile and frown one such
World of difference so much!
Smile attracts, Frown repels
Smile wins, Frown loses
Smile befriends, Frown alienates
Smile infuses love, Frown injects hatred
Smile encourages, Frown deserts
Smile strengthens, Frown weakens
Smile carries, Frown throws off
Humans alone can control
And conquer to play their role!
Sport the smile
Bid adieu to frown
Make others happy
Feel really merry!
poem by Subbaraman N V
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The world goes up and the world goes down, the sunshine follows the rain; and yesterday's sneer and yesterday's frown can never come over again.
quote by Charles Kingsley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Smile, Laugh, Live
They say it’s easy to smile, but my dear why frown?
Turn that frown upside down and crack a smile over those lips of yours because you'll laugh when you smile.
Live life don't dwell in misery because when you smile and laugh you live rejoicing another day of being able to breathe.
poem by Melanie Hernandez
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Bobbie Jo's Shoes
Bobbie Jo went
to town to buy
some shoes, but
once again she was
told, no shoes here.
'Now, Now repiled Bobbie
Jo, why no shoes.'
'Can't you see
Bobbie Jo, right,
in front of you,
the store burned
down last night.'
Poor Bobbie Joe,
she can't win,
for losing.
Two Men and a Maid
Two little dudes from the George-street block,
Up for a brief vacation!
One little girl in a neat print frock,
Maid of the Mulga Station!
Two little dudes with walking-sticks,
Two little heads that the collars fix!
Two little hats at nine-and-six,
Two little dudes on a station.
One little maid with a bashful smile,
Given for a salutation;
Two little dudes of the nan-nan style,
Bent on a captivation.
One little maid with a smile so true,
Curly hair of a nut-brown hue;
Eyes of a liquid violet blue,
One little maid on a station.
“Didn’t she fear her walks to take
Over the grassy clearing?”
“Didn’t she fear some nasty snake
His ugly head a-rearing?”
“Sirs,” she said, with an arching brow,
And a smile that was hardly a smile somehow,
“There are so many jackasses ‘round here now,
That the snakes are disappearing!”
poem by William Thomas Goodge
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To Mrs. Throckmorton, On Her Beautiful Transcript Of Horace's Ode Ad Librum Suum
Maria, could Horace have guessed
What honour awaited his ode
To his little volume addressed,
The honour which you have bestowed,--
Who have traced it in characters here,
So elegant, even, and neat,
He had laughed at the critical sneer
Which he seems to have trembled to meet.
And sneer, if you please, he had said,
A nymph shall hereafter arise
Who shall give me, when you are all dead,
The glory your malice denies;
Shall dignity give to my lay,
Although but a mere bagatelle;
And even a poet shall say,
Nothing ever was written so well.
poem by William Cowper
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The Good Inn
What care if the day
Be turned to gray,
What care if the night come soon!
We may choose the pace
Who bow for grace
At the Inn of the Silver Moon.
Ah, hurrying Sirs,
Drive deep your spurs,
For it's far to the steepled town -
Where the wallet's weight
Shall fix your state
And buy for ye smile or frown.
Through our tiles of green
Do the stars between
Laugh down from the skies of June,
And there's naught to pay
For a couch of hay
At the Inn of the Silver Moon.
You laboring lout,
Pull out, pull out,
With a hand to the creaking tire,
For it's many a mile
By path and stile
To the old wife crouched by the fire.
But the door is wide
In the hedgerow side,
And we ask not bowl nor spoon
Whose draught of must
Makes soft the crust
At the Inn of the Silver Moon.
Then, here's to the Inn
Of the empty bin,
To the Host of the trackless dune!
And here's to the friend
Of the journey's end
At the Inn of the Silver Moon.
poem by Herman K Viele
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What looks like enjoyment is the sneer of contempt. That's not a smile.
quote by Jack Kevorkian
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A new idea is delicate. It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn; it can be stabbed to death by a quip and worried to death by a frown on the right man's brow.
To The Commissioners Of Northern Lights
I SEND to you, commissioners,
A paper that may please ye, sirs
(For troth they say it might be worse
An' I believe't)
And on your business lay my curse
Before I leav't.
I thocht I'd serve wi' you, sirs, yince,
But I've thocht better of it since;
The maitter I will nowise mince,
But tell ye true:
I'll service wi' some ither prince,
An' no wi' you.
I've no been very deep, ye'll think,
Cam' delicately to the brink
An' when the water gart me shrink
Straucht took the rue,
An' didna stoop my fill to drink -
I own it true.
I kent on cape and isle, a light
Burnt fair an' clearly ilka night;
But at the service I took fright,
As sune's I saw,
An' being still a neophite
Gaed straucht awa'.
Anither course I now begin,
The weeg I'll cairry for my sin,
The court my voice shall echo in,
An' - wha can tell? -
Some ither day I may be yin
O' you mysel'.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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A new idea is delicate. It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn; it can be stabbed to death by a joke or worried to death by a frown on the right person's brow.
quote by Charles Hendrickson Brower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dolcino To Margaret
The world goes up and the world goes down,
And the sunshine follows the rain;
And yesterday's sneer and yesterday's frown
Can never come over again,
Sweet wife:
No, never come over again.
For woman is warm though man be cold,
And the night will hallow the day;
Till the heart which at even was weary and old
Can rise in the morning gay,
Sweet wife;
To its work in the morning gay.
Andernach, 1851.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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One Of Us Must Know (Sooner Or Later)
I didn't mean to treat you so bad
You shouldn't take it so personal
I didn't mean to make you so sad
You just happened to be there, that's all
When I saw you say "goodbye" to your friend and smile
I thought that it was well understood
That you'd be comin' back in a little while
I didn't know that you were sayin' "goodbye" for good
But, sooner or later, one of us must know
That you just did what you're supposed to do
Sooner or later, one of us must know
That I really did try to get close to you
I couldn't see what you could show me
Your scarf had kept your mouth well hid
I couldn't see how you could know me
But you said you knew me and I believed you did
When you whispered in my ear
And asked me if I was leavin' with you or her
I didn't realize just what I did hear
I didn't realize how young you were
But, sooner or later, one of us must know
That your just doing what you're supposed to do
Sooner or later, one of us must know
That I really did try to get close to you
I couldn't see when it started snowin'
Your voice was all that I heard
I couldn't see where we were goin'
But you said you knew an' I took your word
And then you told me later, as I apologized
That you were just kiddin' me, you weren't really from the farm
An' I told you, as you clawed out my eyes
That I never really meant to do you any harm
But, sooner or later, one of us must know
That you a just did what you're supposed to do
Sooner or later, one of us must know
That I really did try to get close to you
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Of Us Must Know
I didn't mean to treat you so bad
You shouldn't take it so personal
I didn't mean to make you so sad
You just happened to be there, that's all
When i saw you say "goodbye" to your friend and smile
I thought that it was well understood
That you'd be comin' back in a little while
I didn't know that you were sayin' "goodbye" for good
But, sooner or later, one of us must know
You just did what you're supposed to do
Sooner or later, one of us must know
That i really did try to get close to you
I couldn't see what you could show me
Your scarf had kept your mouth well hid
I couldn't see how you could know me
But you said you knew me and i believed you did
When you whispered in my ear
And asked me if i was leavin' with you or her
I didn't realize just what i did hear
I didn't realize how young you were
But, sooner or later, one of us must know
You just did what you're supposed to do
Sooner or later, one of us must know
That i really did try to get close to you
I couldn't see when it started snowin'
Your voice was all that i heard
I couldn't see where we were goin'
But you said you knew an' i took your word
And then you told me later, as i apologized
That you were just kiddin' me, you weren't really from the farm
An' i told you, as you clawed out my eyes
That i never really meant to do you any harm
But, sooner or later, one of us must know
You just did what you're supposed to do
Sooner or later, one of us must know
That i really did try to get close to you
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Best Smile
It was a portrait
Of six feet height
Full size Lady Grace,
Minus lips on her face.
With all his skill
The artist failed still,
To give her a smile,
Free from any style.
He scanned every mile,
For that unseen smile,
One lovely to admire,
Forever, the world over.
Smiles, smiles every where,
But not a smile there,
New, true and plain,
His lady should own.
His wife smiled.
His girl smiled.
His servant smiled.
His boss smiled.
The milkmaid smiled.
The cartman smiled.
The beggar smiled.
The neighbour smiled.
The dandy smiled.
The waiter smiled.
The grocer smiled.
The councilor smiled.
He saw an ambitious smile,
Not an aesthetic smile,
And a cunning smile,
Not a winning smile.
He saw a dubious smile,
Not a divine smile,
And a greedy smile,
Not a graceful smile.
He saw a mischievous smile,
Not a magnanimous smile,
And a voluptuous smile,
Not a virtuous smile.
Smiles, with strings, he found,
Wherever he went round,
But not the best one,
The Lady Grace won.
The smile, the best,
He found at last,
From his own child,
Rocking in the cradle.
Now the Lady Grace smiled.
Thanks to the child.
The portrait was acclaimed,
The best of its kind.
(Longest word in English is 'Smiles'
Because there is a mile between 'S' and 'S')
poem by Rajaram Ramachandran
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