The Spinner
As I calmly sat and span,
Toiling with all zeal,
Lo! a young and handsome man
Pass'd my spinning-wheel.
And he praised,--what harm was there?--
Sweet the things he said--
Praised my flax-resembling hair,
And the even thread.
He with this was not content,
But must needs do more;
And in twain the thread was rent,
Though 'twas safe before.
And the flax's stonelike weight
Needed to be told;
But no longer was its state
Valued as of old.
When I took it to the weaver,
Something felt I start,
And more quickly, as with fever,
Throbb'd my trembling heart.
Then I bear the thread at length
Through the heat, to bleach;
But, alas, I scarce have strength
To the pool to reach.
What I in my little room
Span so fine and slight,--
As was likely. I presume--
Came at last to light.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
A Year's Spinning
1
He listened at the porch that day,
To hear the wheel go on, and on;
And then it stopped, ran back away,
While through the door he brought the sun:
But now my spinning is all done.
2
He sat beside me, with an oath
That love ne'er ended, once begun;
I smiled--believing for us both,
What was the truth for only one:
And now my spinning is all done.
3
My mother cursed me that I heard
A young man's wooing as I spun:
Thanks, cruel mother, for that word--
For I have, since, a harder known!
And now my spinning is all done.
4
I thought--O God!--my first-born's cry
Both voices to mine ear would drown:
I listened in mine agony--
It was the silence made me groan!
And now my spinning is all done.
5
Bury me 'twixt my mother's grave,
(Who cursed me on her death-bed lone)
And my dead baby's (God it save!)
Who, not to bless me, would not moan.
And now my spinning is all done.
6
A stone upon my heart and head,
But no name written on the stone!
Sweet neighbours, whisper low instead,
"This sinner was a loving one--
And now her spinning is all done."
7
And let the door ajar remain,
In case he should pass by anon;
And leave the wheel out very plain,--
That HE, when passing in the sun,
May see the spinning is all done.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
So I did.
I kissed her child as she expected.
I praised my host as he expected.
I praised his work as I am supposed.
They wanted to be fooled so I did.
26.11.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Her Praise
SHE is foremost of those that I would hear praised.
I have gone about the house, gone up and down
As a man does who has published a new book,
Or a young girl dressed out in her new gown,
And though I have turned the talk by hook or crook
Until her praise should be the uppermost theme,
A woman spoke of some new tale she had read,
A man confusedly in a half dream
As though some other name ran in his head.
She is foremost of those that I would hear praised.
I will talk no more of books or the long war
But walk by the dry thorn until I have found
Some beggar sheltering from the wind, and there
Manage the talk until her name come round.
If there be rags enough he will know her name
And be well pleased remembering it, for in the old days,
Though she had young men's praise and old men's blame,
Among the poor both old and young gave her praise.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Who Is God, That God Needs To Be Praised?
WHO IS GOD THAT GOD NEEDS TO BE PRAISED?
Who is God that God needs to be praised?
Who are we that we are worthy of praising God?
Isn’t this Praise a form of flattery?
And how can God possibly want or need it?
We may need to praise-
Out of Gratitude
We may need to thank God
For all our blessings,
But does God want us to be flatterers
Who think to be rewarded for our praise?
I need to thank God
In that need is the Praise
But Praise alone
Makes both God and me
Seem unworthy.
I thank God
For having given me
This Poem.
If it is a poem.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Metal Beat
Nobody knew me so I bought some time.
An hour or two with a friend of mine.
Somebody lied so I burned their soul.
Somebody screamed and the fire burned cold.
I cure things, sweet young things.
I take the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
I soothe the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
I take the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
Like someone walks on their grave.
I booked a small room in a cheap motel.
Somewhere to hide and a cure to sell.
I call it fashion, Ill make them bleed.
No one to love but a ghost to feed.
I was a puppet pulling my own strings.
I cant believe that I did such things.
I was a shadow but God forgives.
Now Im a priest and jesus lives.
- adlib -
I cure things, sweet young things.
I take the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
I take the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
I take the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
Like someone walks on their grave.
How can I save you if you dont confess?
Kneel down bitch be truly blessed.
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Song
(Written By Saleem Mirza Translated By Muhammad shanazar)
Awake lass!
Move around the spinning wheel,
The time will never come back again,
This spacious yard and home of yours,
And all your delicacies are borrowed,
Your youth and beauties are to decay.
Awake lass!
Move around the spinning wheel,
The time will never come back again,
Get rid of all misdeeds and profanities,
Fill your basket with scented flowers,
And add good acts in the scroll of deeds.
Awake lass!
Move around the spinning wheel,
The time will never come back again,
Adopt the straight path of piety,
Recall the name of True Master, Almighty
And complain not speaking blasphemes.
Awake lass!
Move around the spinning wheel,
The time will never come back again,
Be not proud of this breathing hut,
False it is to trust in the house of self,
On a certain day the roof will collapse.
Awake lass!
Move around the spinning wheel,
The time will never come back again.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Promise Of A Lie
Go to war young soldier,
Your glory will be praised.
Go to war young soldier,
Your home will stay the same.
Fight for us young soldier,
worry naught about your love.
Fight for us young soldier,
She waits for your return.
Welcome home young soldier,
Heres the medal upon your chest.
Welcome home young soldier,
Your life is now a mess.
Go away young soldier,
We have no more use for you.
Go away young soldier,
Till we call again for you.
Still
I am the harm which you inflict.
I am your brilliance and frustration.
I'm the nuclear bombs if they're to hit.
I am your immaturity and your indignance.
I am your misfits and your praised.
I am your doubt and your conviction.
I am your charity and your rape.
I am your grasping and expectation.
I see you averting your glances.
I see you cheering on the war.
I see you ignoring your children
song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Some things are better praised by silence than by remark.
Your view of me is not in my hand
Praised for the reasonless reason
Or decried for the reasonless reason
And praised for wrong reason
Or decried for the wrong reason,
One has no control over others
As to how he should be critiqued.
It is his fortune or fate
According to which he is dealt with.
08.10.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 08
A great man was praised in an assembly and, his good qualities being extolled, he raised his head and said: ‘I am such as I know myself to be.’
O thou who reckonest my virtues, refrainest from giving me pain,
These are my open, and thou knowest not my hidden, qualities.
My person is, to the eyes of the world, of good aspect
But my internal wickedness makes me droop my head with shame.
The peacock is for his beauteous colours by the people
Praised whilst he is ashamed of his ugly feet.
To the house of a friend if you're pleased to retire, You must all things admit, you must all things admire; You must pay with observance the price of your treat, You must eat what is praised, and must praise what you eat.
quote by George Crabbe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Endless Wheels Of Life
Spinning into
the
wheel of life
Spinning wheels
of
energy every
day
rotating an
axis
giving birth
to life
Father sky
Mother earth
always has their
way.
Stepping stones
from matter to
endless wheel
of life.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Will Call Upon The Lord - Petra
I will call upon the Lord,
(I will call upon the Lord) ,
Who is worthy to be praised.
(Who is worthy to be praised) .
So shall I be safe from my enemies,
(So shall I be safe from my enemies) ,
The Lord Lives!
(Chorus)
The Lord liveth,
And Blessed be my Rock,
And let the God of my Salvation
Be exalted.
The Lord liveth,
And Blessed be my Rock,
And let the God of my Salvation
Be exalted.
I will call upon the Lord,
(I will call upon the Lord) ,
Who is worthy to be praised.
(Who is worthy to be praised) .
So shall I be safe from my enemies,
(So shall I be safe from my enemies) ,
The Lord liveth!
(Chorus) x 2
poem by Rebecca Ryan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hdtv
Highly praised is your love so sweet around me!
Which is also driving me crazy like the passions of your works;
But, come and take me home oh my sweet David.
Today is for you ans i am with the victory of love!
Varying in all aspects od life to lead me on;
And like the muse of the HDTV in front of you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet-On Patience
Praised be, the man of patience, limitless;
He is not weak, mind stronger grows each day;
He knows no haste; his spirit is dauntless;
His foes better avoid crossing his way.
Praised be the man of patience infinite;
His unseen strength is Herculean in size;
His patience grows without any debit;
This virtue wins him laurels, rewards nice.
The patient soul can win a battle tough;
His strategy is best and works always;
His Hope remains though goings become rough;
Success will favour him in years or days.
The best weapon an unarmed man carries,
Is Patience, whom his Will-power marries.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet- On Patience
Praised be, the man of patience, limitless;
He is not weak, mind stronger grows each day;
He knows no haste; his spirit is dauntless;
His foes better avoid, crossing his way.
Praised be the man of patience infinite;
His unseen strength is Herculean in size;
His patience grows without any debit;
This virtue wins him laurels, rewards nice.
The patient soul can win a battle tough;
His strategy is best and works always;
His Hope remains though goings become rough;
Success will favor him in years or days.
The best weapon an unarmed man carries
Is Patience, whom his Will-power marries.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: Praise
Oh, praise me not in a limitless way;
O’er-praise puts mind in enshackled a sway,
Distorting its performance thereafter;
An o’er-enthused mind can’t function better.
The hard-earned, older virtues won o’er years,
In moments of flimsy praises by dears,
Feels weaken’d from its adverse/ill-effects;
Praises any human mind sure infects!
Praise me deservingly and nothing more;
Never praises in excessive measures pour;
It could inebriate my feeble mind,
Unless measured and properly refined.
’Tis better not to be praised if worthy,
Than be o’er-praised, ecstatic and guilty.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Dew Drops
The guests of night secretly come,
Riding upon the wings of subtle air,
From the unknown remote world,
To spend a short span of time,
Rest on the tenderly coloured petals,
Soft leafy beds and points of thorns.
Untouchable glassy gems of purity,
Are made to be seen and praised,
Only by the pure eyes and tongues,
The sun beams pass through them,
Manifesting their divine existence,
Composed with the ethereal colours.
I often ponder sitting by them alone,
A child is as pure as the dewdrops,
When comes creeping and crying,
Into the world of woes and worries;
But the touch of our filthy fingers,
Makes them fall to mix into lying dust,
Of heinous ego, jealousy and vain pride.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dew on rose
“What a lovely rose you are with shining cheeks”
“We all pray God sincerely and honestly seek”
I used to laugh sometimes at the funny comments
I was feeling little odd when heard same from gents
Why a natural flower can’t have blossom?
Why a man can’t look tall and handsome?
Why female only looked at with strange behavior?
These all things puzzled me as little child or minor
I was ignorant about dark side of the law
May be it had several lacunas and flaws
The beautiful things were praised on the face
But there used to be blind rivalry and chase
I may stand before the mirror and murmur
There may be no one to listen to comments or humor
I liked some of the comments from all
I used to smile freely and respond to the call
Alas! This smile was short lived
As if my feet were e held by someone when dived
It was vast sea and depth immeasurable
I was sinking fast even though was fully capable
Some unknown hooligans entered the room
They found nice flower at its zenith with boom
What they had in mind with concern to beauty?
God only knows but I heard them saying as cutie
I was laid t ground and forcibly molested one by one
My cry went in air but not heard by any one
It was end of a flower that had so much to offer
Whole life in pain and endless span to suffer
What will I be caring as life lasting impression?
Is it curse to look beautiful and needs discussion?
Why can’t it be allowed to blossom in full view?
Why is it so that compelled to vapor like morning dew?
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!