Ultima Thule: The Sifting Of Peter
In St. Luke's Gospel we are told
How Peter in the days of old
Was sifted;
And now, though ages intervene,
Sin is the same, while time and scene
Are shifted.
Satan desires us, great and small,
As wheat to sift us, and we all
Are tempted;
Not one, however rich or great,
Is by his station or estate
Exempted.
No house so safely guarded is
But he, by some device of his,
Can enter;
No heart hath armor so complete
But he can pierce with arrows fleet
Its centre.
For all at last the cock will crow,
Who hear the warning voice, but go
Unheeding,
Till thrice and more they have denied
The Man of Sorrows, crucified
And bleeding.
One look of that pale, suffering face
Will make us feel the deep disgrace
Of weakness;
We shall be sifted till the strength
Of self-conceit be changed at length
To meekness.
Wounds of the soul, though healed, will ache;
The reddening scars remain, and make
Confession;
Lost innocence returns no more;
We are not what we were before
Transgression.
But noble souls, through dust and heat,
Rise from disaster and defeat
The stronger,
And conscious still of the divine
Within them, lie on earth supine
No longer.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Noble souls, through dust and heat, rise from disaster and defeat the stronger.
The Song at Cock-Crow
1918 -- Ille autem iterum negavit.
The first time that Peter denied his Lord
He shrank from the cudgel, the scourge and the cord,
But followed far off to see what they would do,
Till the cock crew--till the cock crew--
After Gethsemane, till the cock crew!
The first time that Peter denied his Lord
'Twas only a maid in the palace who heard,
As he sat by the fire and warmed himself through.
Then the cock crew! Then the cock crew!
("Though also art one of them.") Then the cock crew!
The first time that Peter denied his Lord
He had neither the Throne, nor the Keys nor the Sword--
A poor silly fisherman, what could he do,
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
But weep for his wickedness when the cock crew?
. . . . . .
The next time that Peter denied his Lord
He was Fisher of Men, as foretold by the Word,
With the Crown on his brow and the Cross on his shoe,
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
In Flanders and Picardy when the cock crew!
The next time that Peter denied his Lord
'Twas Mary the Mother in Heaven Who heard,
She grieved for the maidens and wives that they slew
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
At Tirmonde and Aerschott when the cock crew!
The next time that Peter denied his Lord
The Babe in the Manger awakened and stirred,
And He stretched out His arms for the playmates
He knew--
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
But the waters had covered them when the cock crew!
The next time that Peter denied his Lord
'Twas Earth in her agony waited his word,
But he sat by the fire and naught would he do,
Though the cock crew--though the cock crew--
Over all Christendom, though the cock crew!
The last time that Peter denied his Lord,
The Father took from him the Keys and the Sword,
And the Mother and Babe brake his Kingdom in two,
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
(Because of his wickedness) when the cock crew!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Disciple
He that hath a Gospel
To loose upon Mankind,
Though he serve it utterly--
Body, soul and mind--
Though he go to Calvary
Daily for its gain--
It is His Disciple
Shall make his labour vain.
He that hath a Gospel
For all earth to own--
Though he etch it on the steel,
Or carve it on the stone--
Not to be misdoubted
Through the after-days--
It is His Disciple
Shall read it many ways.
It is His Disciple
(Ere Those Bones are dust )
Who shall change the Charter,
Who shall split the Trust--
Amplify distinctions,
Rationalize the Claim;
Preaching that the Master
Would have done the same.
It is His Disciple
Who shall tell us how
Much the Master would have scrapped
Had he lived till now--
What he would have modified
Of what he said before.
It is His Disciple
Shall do this and more....
He that hath a Gospel
Whereby Heaven is won
( Carpenter, or cameleer,
Or Maya's dreaming son ),
Many swords shall pierce Him,
Mingling blood with gall;
But His Own Disciple
Shall wound Him worst of all!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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To My Wife
Oft in the night, from this lone room
I long to fly o’er land and sea,
To pierce the dark, dividing gloom,
And join myself to thee.
And thou to me wouldst gladly fly,
I know thee well, my own true wife!
We feel, that when we live not nigh,
We lose the crown of life.
Yet soon I hope, at dead of night,
To meet where all is strange beside,
And mid the train’s resounding flight
To have thee by my side.
Then shall I feel that thou art near,
Joined hand to hand and soul to soul;
Short will that happy night appear,
As through the dark we roll.
Then shall the secret of the will,
That dares not enter into bliss;
That longs for love, yet lingers still,
Be solved in one long kiss.
I, drinking deep of thy rich love,
Thou feeling all the strength of mine,
Our souls will rise in faith above
The cares which make us pine.
Till I give thee, thou giving me,
As that which either loves the best,
To Him that loved us both, that He
May take us to His rest.
Wandering and weak are all our prayers,
And fleeting half the gifts we crave;
Love only, cleansed from sins and cares,
Shall live beyond the grave.
Strengthen our love, O Lord, that we
May in Thine own great love believe
And, opening all our soul to Thee,
May Thy free gift receive.
All powers of mind, all force of will,
May lie in dust when we are dead,
But love is ours, and shall be still,
When earth and seas are fled.
poem by James Clerk Maxwell
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The Believer's Danger, Safety, And Duty
Simon, beware! the Saviour said,
Satan, your subtle foe,
Already has his measures laid
Your soul to overthrow.
He wants to sift you all, as wheat,
And thinks his vict'ry sure;
But I his malice will defeat,
My prayer shall faith secure.
Believers, tremble and rejoice,
Your help and danger view;
This warning has to you a voice,
This promise speaks to you.
Satan beholds, with jealous eye,
Your privilege and joy;
He's always watchful, always nigh,
To tear and to destroy.
But Jesus lives to intercede,
That faith may still prevail,
He will support in time of need,
And Satan's arts shall fail.
Yet, let us not the warning slight,
But watchful still be found;
Though faith cannot be slain in fight,
It may receive a wound.
While Satan watches, dare we sleep?
We must our guard maintain;
But, Lord, do thou the city keep,
Or else we watch in vain.
poem by John Newton
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One By One
Little by little and one by one,
Out of the ether, were worlds created;
Star and planet and sea and sun,
All in the nebulous Nothing waited
Till the Nameless One Who has many a name
Called them to being and forth they came.
All things mighty and all things small,
Stone and flower and sentient being,
Each is an answer to that one call,
A part of Himself that His will is freeing-
Freeing to go on the long, long way
That winds back home at the end of the day.
Little by little does mortal man
Build his castles for joy and glory,
And one by one time shatters each plan
And lowers his palaces, story by story-
Story by story, till earth is just
A row of graves in the lowly dust.
One by one, whatever was called,
Must be called back to the primal Centre.
Let no soul tremble or be appalled,
For the heart of the Maker is where we enter-
Is where we enter to gain new force
Before we are sent on another course.
And one by one, as He calls us back,
We shall find the souls that we loved with passion,
In the great way-stations along the track,
And clasp them again in the old, sweet fashion-
In the old, sweet fashion when earth we trod-
And journey along with them up to God.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The End of Darkness
There is a darkness on every side, and with it a prevailing evil tide.
And this evil that is all around us, fills our heart with deep disgust.
From the evil we attempt to hide, but its effects can not be denied.
But soon it shall be behind us, this present world with all its lusts.
We will no longer be in this world, when by God Eternity’s unfurled.
Darkness pervades each corner of life, causing all unwanted strife.
Darkness is evil’s vessel friend, with destruction as its ultimate end.
Satan wants to hand you defeat, as he desires to sift you like wheat.
What God says about our enemy, is resist the devil and he will flee.
For Christ has achieved the victory, for evil to be banished eternally.
Until then darkness isn’t a friend, and Christ’s Light is to be our end.
Darkness is dispelled by His Light, along with all the evil of the night.
When darkness mounts against us, we must lean on whom we trust.
One day the darkness all about us, will be blown away like the dust.
In Heaven there will be no night, for Christ will be The Eternal Light.
Lust of the flesh will be no more, when we reach that celestial shore.
We’ll have a pure mind and heart, as an eternity with Christ we start.
No more temptation for us to face, for Heaven will be a Perfect place.
Purged of all sin and iniquity, a New Heaven and Earth is what will be.
A place where Truth is not denied, for His Light will be on every side.
Warning From Above
We have been believed
So beautiful earth
But we never realized it
Until it got angry
We have been loved
By so many people
But we never cared them
Until they left us
We have been given
This great life
With its existing ‘till now
But we would never understand
Until we die
It’s a warning to everybody
A warning from above
To humans
To realize how blessed we were
And how beautiful it would be
If we heard the warning
But nobody hears
Nobody cares
‘Till this warning
Incised hurt
In our history
This is a warning
From above
Realize how believed we were
How loved we were
How given we were
And how unthankful we are
Hear this warning
Or you’ll see the same disaster
You’ll be in the same despair
We’ll be in the same hell
poem by Clara Odelia Ciutara
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Let Us Now Make Love
1970. officially unreleased.
Please, I beg you hear this humble voice
Please, pale orchid flower, music of my soul
Alone, upon the windswept way
Descends the nightingale
She swoops to soothe my aching brow
Let us now make love
Please, I beg you hear this humble voice
Please, my emerald goddess, wash away the wounds
Alone, the pilgrim thirsts and falls
The queen runs to his call
She stoops to soothe his aching brow
Let us now make love
Make love, make love
Let us, let us, let us make love (love, love)
Love, sweet heavenly love (love, love)
I promise you life will be good (love, love)
If you just stand down and try (love, love)
To be one with, so feel pride
Let us make love till the end of time
Now and forever
Please, I beg you hear this humble voice
Please, dear oyster shell reveal your hidden pearl
Alone, the deaf, the sick, the blind
Turn grimly for the knife
The prophet stoops to soothe their brow
Let us now make love
Make love, make love
Let us, let us, let us make love (love, love)
Sweet heavenly love (love, love)
I promise you life will be good (love, love)
If you just stand down and try (love, love)
To be one with, so feel pride
Let us make love till the end of time
Now and forever
Please, I beg you hear this humble voice
Come, lets walk the windy roads to find the truth
Revealed, each part has now been played
Your beauty will not fade
So cling to me, fulfill your vow
Let us now make love
(love, love)
Sweet heavenly love (love, love)
I promise you life will be good (love, love)
If you just stand down and try (love, love)
To be one with, so feel pride
Let us make love till the end of time
Now and forever
Let us now make love
Till the end of time
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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End of My Heart
Can you hear the devils fiddle
Tuning up to play me a tune
I am the last true riddle
But the questions will end soon
The horizon is calling
The light begins to rise
This is me falling
Savor this moment with your eyes
I will just fade away
The dust will spread through time
My heart is now empty
I cross the final line
Too many brand new sorrows
Enter my soul deep within
Im running out of tommorrows
To start over again
My face is a ghost
Of the one I left behind
The things I want the most
Are the things I hurt each time
But now my velvet darkness
Soothes my suffering soul
To make it to fates promise
Is now my only goal
I cannot take you with me
Cause all I have is where Ive been
And you just shouldnt be
Blamed for all this sin
Farewell to my lovers
Farewell to my friends
There will be no others
This is where my heart ends
poem by Count Dracula
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To The Christian Reader
Reader, I am a fool;
And have adventured
To play the fool this once for Christ,
The more his fame to spread.
If this my foolishness
Help thee to be more wise,
I have attained what I seek,
And what I onely prize.
Thou wonderest perhaps,
That I in Print appear,
Who to the Pulpit dwell so nigh,
Yet come so seldome there.
The God of Heaven knows
What grief to me it is,
To be with-held from Serving Christ:
No sorrow like to this.
This is the sorest pain
That I have felt of feel:
Yet have I stood some shocks that might
Make stronger Men to reel.
I find more true delight
In serving of my Lord,
Tan all the good things upon Earth,
Without it, can afford.
And could my strength endure,
That work I count so dear;
Not all the Riches of Peru
Should hire me to forbear;
But I'm a Prisoner,
Under a heavy Chain:
Almighty God's afflicting hand,
Doth me perforce restrain.
Yet some (I know) do judge,
Mine inability,
To come abroad and do Christ's Work,
To be Melancholy;
And that I'm not so weak,
As I my self conceit,
But who, in other things have found
Me so conceited yet?
Or who of all my friends,
That have my tryals seen,
Can tell the time in seven years,
When I have dumpish been?
Some think my voice is strong,
Most times when I do Preach:
But ten days after what I feel
And suffer, few can reach.
My prisoned thoughts break forth,
When open'd is the door,
With greater force and violence,
And strain my voice the more.
But vainly do they tell,
That I am growing stronger,
Who hear me speak in half an hour,
Till I can speak no longer.
Some for, because they see not
My chearfulness to fail,
Nor that I am disconsolate,
Do think I nothing ail.
If they had born my griefs,
Their courage might have fail'd them,
And all the Town (perhaps) have known
(Once and again) what ail'd them.
But why should I complain
That have so good a God,
That doth mine heart with comfort fill,
Ev'n whilst I feel his Rod?
In God I have been strong,
When wearied and worn out;
And joy'd in him, when twenty woes
Assail'd me round about.
Nor speak I this to boast;
But make Apology
For mine own self, and answer those
That fail in Charity.
I am (alas) as frail,
Impatient a Creature,
As most that tread upon the ground,
And have as bad a nature.
Let God be magnify'd,
Whose everlasting strength
Upholds me under sufferings
Of more than ten years length.
Through whose Almighty pow'r
Although I am surrounded
With sorrows more than can be told,
Yet am I not confounded.
For his dear sake have I
This service undertaken,
For I am bound to honour Him,
Who hath not me forsaken.
I am a Debtor too,
Unto the sons of Men;
Whom wanting other means, I would
Advantage with my Pen.
I would, But (ah!) my strength,
When tried, proves so small,
That to the ground without effect,
My wishes often fall.
Weak heads, and hands, and states,
Great things cannot produce:
And therefore I this little Piece
Have publish'd for thine use.
Although the thing be small,
Yet my good will therein,
Is nothing less then if it had
A larger Volumn been.
Accept it then in Love,
And read it for thy good:
There's nothing in't can do thee hurt,
If rightly understood.
The God of Heaven grant
These Lines so well to speed,
That thou the things of thine own peace,
Through them may'st better heed,
And may'st be stirred up
To stand upon thy guard,
That Death and Judgment may not come,
And find thee unprepar'd.
Oh get a part in Christ,
And make the Judge thy Friend:
So shalt thou be assured of
A happy, glorious end.
Thus prayes thy real Friend,
And Servant for Christ's Sake,
Who had he strength would not refuse,
More pains for thee to take.
poem by Michael Wigglesworth
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Rise, Rise to the Occasion
Rise, rise to the occasion
Rise, rise to the invitations of life
Oh rise, rise to the music of joy
Uh rise, rise to the victory over strife!
This is the time for you to march forward
Oh son of the Mighty! Valor is the key
This is the urgency to show courage abundant
Oh daughter of Energy! Courage is the key
Rise, rise to the tide and rise to the low
Defeat lethargy and defeat fear
Mind the goal and attain it
The guts are here and the glory is here
Face the challenge, embrace it
Cross the puddles and the furrows
Calm the heart and fight the battle
Celebration’s for you – not the sorrows
Rise, rise then, rise O bright!
Rise, rise then to the right
Tire not, rise till the end of the path
Rise, rise then to all the might!
poem by Bhaswat Chakraborty
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Saturday Evening
Safely through another week,
God has brought us on our way;
Let us now a blessing seek,
On th' approaching Sabbath-day:
Day of all the week the best,
Emblem of eternal rest.
Mercies multiply'd each hour
Through the week our praise demand
Guarded by Almighty pow'r,
Fed and guided by his hand:
Though ungrateful we have been,
Only made returns of sin.
While we pray for pard'ning grace,
Through the dear Redeemer's name,
Show thy reconciled face,
Shine away our sin and shame:
From our worldly care set free,
May we rest this night with thee.
When the morn shall bid us rise,
May we feel thy presence near!
May thy glory meet our eyes
When we in thy house appear!
There afford us, Lord, a taste
Of our everlasting feast.
May thy Gospel's joyful sound
Conquer sinners, comfort saints;
Make the fruits of grace abound,
Bring relief for all complaints:
Thus may all our Sabbaths prove,
Till we join the church above!
poem by John Newton
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Out of the Deep
Thy soul grows silent, when its accents are
Disturbed, and low thy heart, when dark a burden
Has deeply covered it. Thy soul is proud.
When thou hast made it free of wants and wishes,
Then art thou rich.
Our life is seldom open,
For love and fear have shut it. When we lay
It open, there is nought to show in it,
But wounds and burning pain.
Mysterious is
Thy power, great as it may be, a trial
Of thine own will and of the curb upon
Thyself; mysterious to thyself, the more,
The greater it has grown, surrounded as
We are by fear and pain.
And when the soul
Lifts up her voice and speaks, then must she go
Against the will of people, not her own,
The will that is herself, the soul's own might.
When heaven asks, we work with joy, a dear
Beloved business put into our hands.
We dream at first to make it daintily,
Like Nature's work, so careful and so rich,
And then the dream becomes a wish, then changes
To action, to be called by us our own
Free will. And when we feel alleviated
Of suffering, we call it hope. In each
Hard battle of our life, free will is quite
The same, unbending and undone, and gave
Us never yet a ray of satisfaction,
Nor of real joy, the bleeding conqueror.
And hope is e'er the same. It dwelleth not
In hearts that are too great for hope, too great
For wishes, and that fearless never ask
Why will is but obedience, power worthless,
The greatest strength a reed, and thought an echo.
Great hearts are free of either want or wish;
They may be proud and richly clothe themselves
In lofty, burdenless, mysterious Silence.
poem by Carmen Sylva
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In the spirit of Rumi - 35 - Three answers
I asked the passing strangers
in the fine street of the wise,
‘Tell me about your Self itself’
The first man said to me
‘It is like a rose garden
planted around a fountain –
it is always beautiful,
changing, yet unchanging;
it is the very centre
of my peace and rest…’
The second man said to me
‘It is like a treasure house of riches –
full of more sparkling, deep-coloured jewels
than anyone’s imagination
could ever begin to describe;
as beautiful as anything
in heaven or on earth…’
The third man said to me
‘It is like a mine of gold and silver
where you only have to dig
and there is always more to find…’
To the first man I said
‘You are indeed blest,
O noble sir… and must have earned yourself
this great honour…tell me,
do you invite every passing stranger
to walk and sit in that garden with you? ’
He said
‘Yes; I am a poet.’
To the second man I said
‘You are indeed blest,
O noble sir… and must have earned yourself
this great honour… tell me,
do you invite every passing stranger
into your treasure house, saying,
take all you need -
to make rich their life, too? ’
He said
‘Yes; I am a poet.’
To the third man I said
‘You are indeed blest,
O noble sir… and must have earned yourself
this great honour… tell me,
do you invite every passing stranger
to come and dig whenever he so needs? ’
He said
‘Yes; I am a poet.’
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Good That I Would I Do Not
I would, but cannot sing,
Guilt has untuned my voice;
The serpent sin's envenomed sting
Has poisoned all my joys.
I know the Lord is nigh,
And would, but cannot, pray;
For Satan meets me when I try,
And frights my soul away.
I would but can't repent
Though I endeavor oft;
This stony heart can ne'er relent
Till Jesus make it soft.
I would but cannot love,
Though wooed by love divine;
No arguments have pow'r to move
A soul so base as mine.
I would, but cannot rest
In God's most holy will;
I know what he appoints is best,
Yet murmur at it still!
Oh could I but believe!
Then all would easy be;
I would, but cannot, Lord relieve,
My help must come from thee!
But if indeed I would,
Though I can nothing do,
Yet the desire is something good,
For which my praise is due.
By nature prone to ill,
Till thine appointed hour
I was as destitute of will,
As now I am of pow'r.
Wilt thou not crown, at length,
The work thou hast begun?
And with a will, afford me strength
In all thy ways to run.
poem by John Newton
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Time
Let light be
Let life in
Let man live
Let time referee
Born to a world that's sick and ailed
All head out the world to change
Time sits back pops a corn and change
As all efforts to resuscitate the world has failed
My beauty met beauties of ages afore
And learned that time did beauty hate
My first breath held the breath of mortals before
My last failure pushed hope to extinction's gate
I've lived through shaded days
Wounded by the tornado's play
Forced on both knees to pray
Knows it not I'm but dust and clay?
I lived a life whose plot was simple
And wore a face which bore a dimple
I bore a face which wore a mask
And took it off for those who asked
Many a child born hath been the world to adorn
But sin hath turned the diamond to scorn
Though time like man had come and gone
Time is here and man no more
Lovers write on time's sand
Mistakes engraved on memory's lane
Separate the lovers from each's hand
To move on and never to love again
I gave my heart, twas given back
Had to sew and put it in my chest
He said time healed all wounds with no tack
The watch-maker lied and failed the test
With band-aids and scars
I opened the forgiveness bars
Reaching farther than I ever have before
Leaving all who broke my heart upon the shore
Many a man hath followed desire
Now watch the clouds cook a shower
For lust and desire hath born a fire
Faint not for hey, the sun will rise again with power
The swift did try to dance
And the strong did become stronger
But time married chance
And invited all mankind to dinner
Time once asked what I'd have him do
To keep my love, my loves and innocence
A strange request he thought and looked
'Let the story begin, ' he said 'you'll see the sense'
Through time, time's been called money
The love of money has been the root of evil's story
And time has been the storyteller
Yet many the path still follow later
Time took ambition to the moon and back
Time the foolish made rich then lack
Hell or Heaven our souls are bound
Dust and dust our bodies found
Life of earth to earth returned
Ages of ages to the Rock of Ages summoned
Dust to dust the ding dong chimed
'Wait for me! ', the one who had more to do cried
Her feet drank this river
Ten or twenty years over
The water's changed perhaps the same
But the deep-eyed girl is gone insane
Though time be harsh or time be kind We all must live in it
In all insanity retain thy mind
Time only carries out what God hath writ
The four seasons rotate their cause
Some do grow and some do die
The four seasons wave their bye
None they met remained on course
The ills of fate
The lover dead, the loved living
The heals of faith
The heart broken, the heart beating
The north-wind blew
And brought with it graces
The south-wind flew
And sorrow slapped our faces
The dead hath gone and the living mourn
All through tears could see no more
That the horizon breaks the new morn
And good or bad, day must break for sure
More than once a man had been a lamp
More than twice the lamp was put out
More than thrice envy was near about
Less than once love was in the camp
I once looked time in the face
And asked for my glory days
It turned and ran and I did chase
I gave it a run and found my place
Eager time carried my loves to rest in sand
Time had taken a large part of me
This hurt made me a better poet to stand
The sense time spoke of I finally see
Hope is lightning
Its loss is worsening
Star by star his world resigning
Twinkle by twinkle his life declining
All men sought from who they were to change
For all had spent a night in the mirror
And wished that time will turn the page
Or give them a chance to be more
Where lies the beauty
Of a bird born without wings
Where lies the glory
Of the star that barely twinks
Idle time glads and gads
Idle minds the devil's pads
The night falls and bullies my stars
Still bold little stars twinkle their eyes
All I wanted from life was to
Have a song I could sing to
A beat I could drum to
A field I could run through
As light moves faster than sound
Thy life is a music heard by thee alone
As time moves faster than life around
Thy music is read by all above
They say when a door closes
We should see the window opening
I spent my days wondering
Why the door closes, then the window bored, dozes
Time has his own private joke
As the boy becomes a man
Only to have his mind broke
And at 80, becomes a boy again
'Let light be', the maker hath said
Time stood behind and waited his turn
Till time kills time and he calls the end Let the hourglass spin and the ashes burn
Time has come, time has gone
All who was, all who is, are no more
Eternity stands and takes his turn
And tells the story of all time has done.
poem by Jenim Dibie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Repentance
Lord, I confess my sin is great;
Great is my sin. Oh! gently treat
With thy quick flow'r, thy momentany bloom;
Whose life still pressing
Is one undressing,
A steady aiming at a tomb.
Man's age is two hours' work, or three:
Each day doth round about us see.
Thus are we to delights: but we are all
To sorrows old,
If life be told
From what life feeleth, Adam's fall.
O let thy height of mercy then
Compassionate short-breathed men.
Cut me not off for my most foul transgression:
I do confess
My foolishness;
My God, accept of my confession.
Sweeten at length this bitter bowl,
Which thou hast pour'd into my soul;
Thy wormwood turn to health, winds to fair weather:
For if thou stay,
I and this day,
As we did rise, we die together.
When thou for sin rebukest man,
Forthwith he waxeth woe and wan:
Bitterness fills our bowels; all our hearts
Pine, and decay,
And dropp away,
And carry with them th'other parts.
But thou wilt sin and grief destroy;
That so the broken bones may joy,
And tune together in a well-set song,
Full of his praises,
Who dead men raises;
Fractures well cur'd make us more strong.
poem by George Herbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clara Morris (Written for a Benefit Given Mrs. Morris)
The Radiant Ruler of Mystic Regions
Where souls of artists are fitted for birth,
Gathered together their lovely legions
And fashioned a woman to shine on earth.
They bathed her in splendor
They made her tender:
They gave her a nature both sweet and wild.
They gave her emotions
Like storm stirred oceans,
And they gave her the heart of a little child.
These Radiant Rulers (who are not human
Nor yet divine like the gods above)
Poured all their gifts in the soul of a woman
That fragile vessel meant only for love.
Still more they taught her,
Still more they brought her-
Till they gave her the world for a harp one day,
And they bade her string it-
They bade her ring it,
While the stars all wondered to hear her play.
She touched the strings in a master fashion,
She uttered the cry of a world's despair.
Its long-hid secret, its pent-up passion,
She gave to the winds in a vibrant air.
For ah! the heart of her,
That was the art of her,
Great with the feeling that makes men kin.
Art unapproachable,
Art all uncoachable,
Fragrance and flame from the spirit within.
The earth turns ever an ear unheeding
To the sorrows of art, as it cries for more:
And she played on the harp till her hands were bleeding
And her brow was bruised by the laurels she wore.
She knew the trend of it,
She knew the end of it.
Men heard the music and men felt the thrill.
Bound to the altar
Of art, could she falter?
Then came a silence-the music was still.
And yet in the echoes we seem to hear it
In waves unbroken it circles the earth:
And we catch in the light of her dauntless spirit
A gleam from the center that gave her birth.
Still is the fame of her
Felt in the name of her.
But low lies the harp that once thrilled to her strain.
No hand has taken it,
No hand can waken it-
For the soul of her art was her secret of pain.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Feel The Heat
Refrain:
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
Feel the heat
I'm burning deep inside and
Feel the beat
Of my heart
Feel the heat
I'm burning deep inside and
Feel the beat
Of my heart
D.J.BOBO:
People in the place lets talk about
So get on the floor and turn it out
Everything that change it goes round'n'round
You loose control when you hear my sound
Everything that change it goes up'n'down
To the rhythm of the night and to the ground
Dance in the house and you wont let go
Like a symphony
In stereo-ere-o
Refrain:
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
Feel the heat
I'm burning deep inside and
Feel the beat
Of my heart
Feel the heat
I'm burning deep inside and
Feel the beat
Of my heart
D.J.BOBO:
Its the groove that makes you wonder
I mean the beat and the bass like thunder
I make you sweat
I make you wet
This is my mission that i got to get
That's great
Like boom boom boom
Bring the sound and the noise to the room
Get on the floor now don't be lazy
Get on the floor now lets go crazy
Refrain:
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
Feel the heat
I'm burning deep inside and
Feel the beat
Of my heart
Feel the heat
I'm burning deep inside and
Feel the beat
Of my heart
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got
song performed by by DJ Bobo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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