The Splendid Shilling
-- -- Sing, Heavenly Muse,
Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhime,
A Shilling, Breeches, and Chimera's Dire.
Happy the Man, who void of Cares and Strife,
In Silken, or in Leathern Purse retains
A Splendid Shilling: He nor hears with Pain
New Oysters cry'd, nor sighs for chearful Ale;
But with his Friends, when nightly Mists arise,
To Juniper's, Magpye, or Town-Hall repairs:
Where, mindful of the Nymph, whose wanton Eye
Transfix'd his Soul, and kindled Amorous Flames,
Chloe, or Phillis; he each Circling Glass
Wisheth her Health, and Joy, and equal Love.
Mean while he smoaks, and laughs at merry Tale,
Or Pun ambiguous, or Conundrum quaint.
But I, whom griping Penury surrounds,
And Hunger, sure Attendant upon Want,
With scanty Offals, and small acid Tiff
(Wretched Repast!) my meagre Corps sustain:
Then Solitary walk, or doze at home
In Garret vile, and with a warming puff
Regale chill'd Fingers; or from Tube as black
As Winter-Chimney, or well-polish'd Jet,
Exhale Mundungus, ill-perfuming Scent:
Not blacker Tube, nor of a shorter Size
Smoaks Cambro-Britain (vers'd in Pedigree,
Sprung from Cadwalader and Arthur, Kings
Full famous in Romantic tale) when he
O'er many a craggy Hill, and barren Cliff,
Upon a Cargo of fam'd Cestrian Cheese,
High over-shadowing rides, with a design
To vend his Wares, or at th' Arvonian Mart,
Or Maridunum, or the ancient Town
Eclip'd Brechinia, or where Vaga's Stream
Encircles Ariconium, fruitful Soil,
Whence flow Nectareous Wines, that well may vye
With Massic, Setin, or renown'd Falern.
Thus while my joyless Minutes tedious flow
With Looks demure, and silent Pace, a Dunn,
Horrible Monster! hated by Gods and Men,
To my aerial Citadel ascends;
With Vocal Heel thrice thund'ring at my Gates,
With hideous Accent thrice he calls; I know
The Voice ill-boding, and the solemn Sound.
What shou'd I do? or whither turn? amaz'd,
Confounded, to the dark Recess I fly
Of Woodhole; strait my bristling Hairs erect
Thrô sudden Fear; a chilly Sweat bedews
My shud'ring Limbs, and (wonderful to tell!)
My Tongue forgets her Faculty of Speech;
So horrible he seems! his faded Brow
Entrench'd with many a Frown, and Conic Beard,
And spreading Band, admir'd by Modern Saints,
Disastrous Acts forebode; in his Right Hand
Long Scrolls of Paper solemnly he waves,
With Characters, and Figures dire inscrib'd
Grievous to mortal Eyes; (ye Gods avert
Such Plagues from righteous Men!) behind him stalks
Another Monster, not unlike himself,
Sullen of Aspect, by the Vulgar call'd
A Catchpole, whose polluted Hands the Gods
With Force incredible, and Magick Charms
Erst have indu'd, if he his ample Palm
Should haply on ill-fated Shoulder lay
Of Debtor, strait his Body, to the Touch
Obsequious, (as whilom Knights were wont)
To some enchanted Castle is convey'd,
Where Gates impregnable, and coercive Chains
In Durance strict detain him, 'till in form
Of Mony, Pallas sets the Captive free.
Beware, ye Debtors, when ye walk beware,
Be circumspect; oft with insidious Ken
This Caitif eyes your Steps aloof, and oft
Lies perdue in a Nook or gloomy Cave,
Prompt to enchant some inadvertent wretch
With his unhallow'd Touch. So (Poets sing)
Grimalkin to Domestick Vermin sworn
An everlasting Foe, with watchful Eye,
Lyes nightly brooding o'er a chinky gap,
Protending her fell Claws, to thoughtless Mice
Sure Ruin. So her disembowell'd Web
Arachne in a Hall, or Kitchin spreads,
Obvious to vagrant Flies: She secret stands
Within her woven Cell; the Humming Prey,
Regardless of their Fate, rush on the toils
Inextricable, nor will aught avail
Their Arts, nor Arms, nor Shapes of lovely Hue;
The Wasp insidious, and the buzzing Drone,
And Butterfly proud of expanded wings
Distinct with Gold, entangled in her Snares,
Useless Resistance make: With eager strides,
She tow'ring flies to her expected Spoils;
Then with envenom'd Jaws the vital Blood
Drinks of reluctant Foes, and to her Cave
Their bulky Carcasses triumphant drags.
So pass my Days. But when Nocturnal Shades
This World invelop, and th' inclement Air
Persuades Men to repel benumming Frosts,
With pleasant Wines, and crackling blaze of Wood;
Me Lonely sitting, nor the glimmering Light
Of Make-weight Candle, nor the joyous Talk
Of loving Friend delights; distress'd, forlorn,
Amidst the horrors of the tedious Night,
Darkling I sigh, and feed with dismal Thoughts
My anxious Mind; or sometimes mournful Verse
Indite, and sing of Groves and Myrtle Shades,
Or desperate Lady near a purling Stream,
Or Lover pendent on a Willow-Tree:
Mean while I Labour with eternal Drought,
And restless Wish, and Rave; my parched Throat
Finds no Relief, nor heavy Eyes Repose:
But if a Slumber haply does Invade
My weary Limbs, my Fancy's still awake,
Thoughtful of Drink, and Eager in a Dream,
Tipples Imaginary Pots of Ale;
In Vain; awake, I find the settled Thirst
Still gnawing, and the pleasant Phantom curse.
Thus do I live from Pleasure quite debarr'd,
Nor taste the Fruits that the Sun's genial Rays
Mature, John-Apple, nor the downy Peach,
Nor Walnut in rough-furrow'd Coat secure,
Nor Medlar, Fruit delicious in decay;
Afflictions Great! yet Greater still remain:
My Galligaskins that have long withstood
The Winter's Fury, and Encroaching Frosts,
By Time subdu'd, (what will not Time subdue!)
An horrid Chasm disclose, with Orifice
Wide, Discontinuous; at which the Winds
Eurus and Auster, and the dreadful Force
Of Boreas, that congeals the Cronian Waves,
Tumultuous enter with dire chilling Blasts,
Portending Agues. Thus a well-fraught Ship
Long sail'd secure, or thrô th' Ægean Deep,
Or the Ionian, 'till Cruising near
The Lilybean Shoar, with hideous Crush
On Scylla, or Charybdis (dang'rous Rocks)
She strikes rebounding, whence the shatter'd Oak,
So fierce a Shock unable to withstand,
Admits the Sea; in at the gaping Side
The crouding Waves Gush with impetuous Rage,
Resistless, Overwhelming; Horrors seize
The Mariners, Death in their Eyes appears,
They stare, they lave, they pump, they swear, they pray:
(Vain Efforts!) still the battering Waves rush in
Implacable, 'till delug'd by the Foam,
The Ship sinks found'ring in the vast Abyss.
poem by John Arthur Phillips
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Intentions~
Chimera knows about the dark side of the moon
Chimera knows many incantations
Chimera knows evil like the back of her hand
Chimera knows sadistic and savagery raise her
Chimera knows toxic pleases her
Chimera knows destruction is her favorite compulsion
Chimera knows that all the good desserts she prepares
Are best served up cold
Chimera's cheesecake is KILLER
Yes, Chimera knows
poem by Theodora Onken
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I Wish I Was A Heavenly Angel
I wish I was a heavenly angel
For I would watch and protect mankind
But I am no heavenly angel
Hence must play in my own kind
I wish I was a heavenly angel
For I would pray for those in sorrow
But I am no heavenly angel
Hence must suffer the torment of borrow
I wish I was a heavenly angel
For I would worship my god day and night
But I am no heavenly angel
Hence must fight for my own right
I wish I was a heavenly angel
For I would always cling to my sword
But I am no heavenly angel
Hence must fight the pain of my fault
I wish I was a heavenly angel
For I would never no tiredness
But I am no heavenly angel
Hence must till the land to grow in abundance
I wish I was a heavenly angel
For I would weep when man sin
But I am no heavenly angel
Hence must pray for my own sin so dire
I wish I was a heavenly angel
For I would shore endlessly in space
But I am no heavenly angel
Hence must check as I walk in pace
I wish I was a heavenly angel
For I would wonder around this world free
But I am no heavenly angel
Hence must stand still as a tree
I wish I was a heavenly angel
For my heart shall always be in joy
But I am no heavenly angel
Hence must behave just like a boy
poem by Samuel Donkor
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Terse Verse
Terse little verse, gold from beauties purse
In my soul thou so give
And on its worth my life I live
Terse little verse, gold from beauties purse
Love is a morsel of thine treasure
In one ounce is my immense pleasure
Terse little verse, gold from beauties purse
Sing like a muse
and in poetry fuse
my soul into verse from beauties purse
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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To the same (Mr. L-----) I
Dear Sir, when late in town you chose
To correspond no more in prose,
My viscious muse---(but 'tis in vain
Of her abuses to complain)---
Neglects to aid, as I expected,
And so I must be self-directed.
You've broke th' agreement, Sir, I find;
(Excuse me, I must speak my mind)
It seems, in your poetic fit,
You mind not jingling, when there's wit;
And so to write like Donne you chose,
Whose prose was verse, and verse was prose:
From common tracts of rhyming stray,
And versify another way.
Indeed it suits, I must aver,
A genius to be singular.
On F---r kept in durance vile,
Did once more erring fortune smile:
Again he would extend his ray,
And shine his riches all away.
Birch said, (and what he said I sing)
'A shilling is a serious thing;'
But like Icarus, F---r springs,
Where suns dissolv'd his waxen wings:
No more the wings his weight sustain,
He plunges headlong in the main:
The shades of death steal o'er his eyes;
And to black Styx the spirit flies.
Life is a grand vicissitude
Of pain and health, of ill and good:
Your goose now mourns a murder'd mate,
(Attend while I the fact relate)
He chanc'd upon a cloudless morn,
To wander in our neighbour's corn;
Perhaps he thought all lands were free,
And none had private property;
Or sure he ne'er had trod the plain,
And pick'd, like Eve, forbidden grain:
Careless he fed, in graceful ease
And sweet simplicity of geese.
Ill-fated bird! he there was kill'd
By man, the tyrant of the field.
His widow's wing, Oh dire relation!
Next underwent sad amputation:
Weep not, dear Sir, at this abuse;
She bears it like a patient goose:
I fear the widow is a prude,
Or matters sooner would conclude;
Or else you have a coward heart,
And fear to act the suitor's part.
Of all the things beneath the sun, you know,
Faint heart fair lady never won. Adieu.
poem by Ann Eliza Bleecker from The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Results Ridiculous
("Humourists have amused themselves by translating famous sonnets into free verse. A result no less ridiculous would have been obtained if somebody had re-written a passage from 'Paradise Lost' as a rondeau." --George Soule in the New Republic)
"PARADISE LOST"
Sing, Heavenly Muse, in lines that flow
More smoothly than the wandering Po,
Of man's descending from the height
Of Heaven itself, the blue, the bright,
To Hell's unutterable throe.
Of sin original and the woe
That fell upon us here below
From man's pomonic primal bite--
Sing, Heavenly Muse!
Of summer sun, of winter snow, Of future days, of long ago,
Of morning and "the shades of night,"
Of woman, "my ever new delight,"
Go to it, Muse, and put us Joe--
Sing, Heavenly Muse!
* * * * *
"THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER"
THE wedding guest sat on a stone,
He could not chose but hear
The mariner. They were there alone.
The wedding guest sat on a stone.
"I'll read you something of my own,"
Declared that mariner.
The wedding guest sat on a stone--
He could not chose but hear.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Shilling In The Meter (Fun Poem 76)
Quick
put a shilling in the meter
let the sun come out to play.
The sun being expensive
that shilling won’t last that long
and soon the rain will come back
and the sun will fade away.
I searched my pockets,
and hunted high and low
for another shilling for the meter,
but there wasn’t one there.
So we are stuck with rain
from Monday and Sunday now,
unless someone out there
has another shilling for the meter
somewhere.
28 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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I'm Just So Sorry But No One Cares About You(Revised In Line Form)
No one cares.
I'm just so sorry but no one cares about you.
No reason to get upset.
Do your own thing as you always do.
Let the time fade.
Follow the suns escape.
Take me somewhere, anywhere but here.
Like a ghost I just want to disappear.
It removes all fear.
Preparing for another sacrifice.
Such is life.
No one cares.
I'm just so sorry, but no one cares about you.
Marching to my own rhythm.
Lead or follow.
Where do you go when the heart becomes so hollow?
How do you fill the void?
Are you feeling a little paranoid?
Trust no one.
All because no one cares.
I'm just so sorry, but no cares about you.
All alone,
Naked and full of shame.
Who's really to blame?
Do you admit the fault as your own?
Or do you mention someones name and complain?
Are you insane?
Completely mad.
A mad hatter off his rocker just a little bit.
All because no one cares.
I'm just so sorry but no one cares about you.
Oh about you.
It's always about you.
No such thing as a selfless act.
This is a fact.
Nothing for free.
This is a favor that can be later be redeemed! ! !
All because no one cares,
I'm just so sorry but no one cares about you.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Sing Something That's Happy
Do not sing me a song that will bring me to tears
That will make me nostalgic for the long gone years
My prime years of life I don't wish to recall
Sing something that's happy or nothing at all
Though few things in life ever does seem to last
The past has gone forever why sing of the past
To the father of time we are destined to bow
But I want to be happy and live in the now
In a decade from now I will be an old man
But I want to be happy for as long as I can
Sing something that's joyful and merry and light
I do want to laugh and be happy tonight
The sweet sound of laughter is a joyous thing
Do sing something that's happy if you wish to sing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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To My Spouse Valentine
God saw your heart and made me yours;
God knew my heart and made you mine;
God made us two, spouses forev’r;
God wants us to be happy ever.
What God has joined, none can divorce –
The standing law of God in terse;
If some could separate, life’s worse;
God’s Will can’t be undone by purse!
When man and wife – a sacred bond,
And nuptial dress, we both had donned,
Until we reach Elysium’s pond –
‘Has God, the Almighty not warned?
Though halves in Christ, we are both one;
Our lives must shine akin the Sun;
A lot of good work lies undone;
Sin is the one we have to shun.
Thus, marriage is a sacred thing,
That’s done before the heavenly King!
Our children, joy it always bring;
With gratitude, our hearts must sing!
You are my valentine, dear wife!
I am your valentine for life!
Rock-like, we stand in peril, strife,
And earthly problems that are rife.
‘I love you dear spouse from my heart! ’
– Promise to keep till we depart;
The Bible tells our living art!
If in sin, we always restart.
‘Happy Valentine’s Day, my beloved wife and sweetheart! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-5-2009
poem by John Celes
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Sing
Sing, sing a song
Sing out loud
Sing out strong
Sing of good things not bad
Sing of happy not sad
(*) sing, sing a song
Make it simple to last
Your whole life long
Dont worry that its not
Good enough for anyone
Else to hear
Just sing, sing a song
La la la la la
La la la la la la...
Sing, sing a song
Let the world sing along
Sing of love there could be
Sing for you and for me
Repeat (*)
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ban The Void
Ban the void.
Tch.
Ban the void.
Tch, tch.
Ban the void.
Tch.
Ban the void.
Tch, tch.
Grandma stopped baking cakes.
Tch.
Ban the void.
Tch, tch.
Brought me my first heartbreak.
Tch.
Ban the void.
I told her I couldn't take it.
She 'had' to bake another cake for me!
Tch.
Ban the void.
She said she was going on strike!
Tch.
Ban the void.
And even though I didn't like it!
Tch.
Ban the void.
She's not gonna cook in the kitchen,
She's itching to do something else to please!
Tch
Ban the void.
Tch.
Ban the void.
She brought herself a brand new car.
Tch.
Ban the void.
Tch, tch.
And drove to wherever she wanted.
Tch.
Ban the void.
She said she had her own special needs.
And will come and go whenever that need pleases!
Tch.
Ban the void.
I got so annoyed...
And I tried to stop that void deep down in me!
Oh...
Ban the void!
I couldn't go to sleep!
I dreamt of grandma's baking,
And it teased me!
I even cried my eyes.
But grandma's sweet potato pie kept creepin'.
Oh...
Ban the void!
Ban the void!
Oh...
Ban the void.
Grandma loved her brand new car.
And never got one ticket,
For her speedin'!
Ban the void.
Tch.
Ban the void.
Tch, tch.
Ban the void.
Oh...
Dedicated To:
In loving memory...
Clara Louise Countryman Pertillar
'Miss you, grandma! '
Love,
Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Shattered Dreams
My dreams are shattered
My life is empty
They took my dreams away
Ripped them out of my heart
Now I'm left with this void
This void that will never be filled again
They want me to be lonely
They want me to be depressed
They want me to be hated
They want me to die
No one cares that I'm alone
No one cares if I'm miserable
No one cares if I die
They had to take her away from me
They told me that its for the best
They took her away from me
Now my heart is shattered
No one can glue my heart together again
Because once its broken it can't be mend
They shattered my dreams
When they told me she doesn't exist
(1-15-05)
poem by Brandi Young
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Happy Trails
Some trails are happy ones
Others are blue
It's the way you ride the trail that counts
Here's a happy one for you
Happy trails to you
Until we meet again
Happy trails to you
Keep smiling until then
Who cares about the clouds when we're together
Just sing a song and bring that sunny weather
Happy trails to you
Til we meet again
Who cares about the clouds when we're together
Just sing a song and bring that sunny weather
Happy trails to you
Til we meet again
Til we meet again
song performed by by Nickel Creek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happy Everything
I'd love to wish you,
'happy everything',
I want to kiss you,
'bless everything'
I need to sing,
'Happy everything'
I want to shout,
'Happy everything', to you
The sun is out,
bright blue is the sky.
nothing out of place, were all gonna try
'Happy everything'
People sing.......'Happy everything'
The priest chant..'Happy everything'
The kids cry........'Happy everything'
Everyone wants..'Happy everything'
Everything is happy,
we are all so glad.
Everything is happy,
please don't be so sad.
poem by David Darbyshire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inside The Void
inside the void
you like to die in the void
you like to die
wait, do not die yet
there is this sense of
things unfinished
you have not really done
everything and some things are messy
and need to be put in their proper order
you are called upon by time to
correct some mistakes
of others, or even of nature itself
it is not time to die yet
this is but a beginning
an emptiness that lectures
and guides and soon shall find
some ways to fill
some things
some people
soon they will come before your
eyes and soon you will understand
things and people may be late
like a fireman like a policeman
but they make a good finishing
a happy ending.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Metaphor
A pretty girl
is like a simile
and vice-a-versa
so I'd say
for like the sunlight it
delights our so prosaic day
and life is better for
a metaphor
when apposite
to what you write
the first I used
that made some sense
came out of childish
innocence
before I read
the word in prose
I thought that what
just goes and goes
was 'dire rear' -
not too bad
as an idea
for a nappy-happy lad?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only a Chimera
little bird see her sunshine again
and she is so happy feel his brightness which warms all over the globe
little bird could sing again coz she knows that even far away
she still can feel her sunshine warms her heart even a bit, since he should
shares with others as well as his wisdom tasks
she is happy that still could hear many stories from her sunshine from his journey
she knows that she only one tiny bird among enchanting and precious birds
who always surround her sunshine for share brightness and warm of him
little bird is something which is nothing and she realize that from the beginning till now
that her sunshine only a chimera...
poem by Minaslune Serene
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Sing It
SING IT
This is actually strictly dialogue between Barry and his grandfather, Joe, made circa 1951 or right around that time. They were at a "Record Your Own Voice" booth, and this is approximately how the conversation went.
JOE: All right! "A Happy Birthday", come on, go ahead, sing.
BARRY: What? What?
JOE: Sing. I have the words for you, sing it. Sing it. Sing to me! "A happy birthday to you"
BARRY: N-no, I can't! I have to go to the bathroom.
JOE: All right, go ahead, Barry, sing it, sing it! Sing it! Go ahead.
BARRY: When?
JOE: I said now. Go ahead, sing it. "Happy" Go ahead, come on. Come on, sing it! Come on, go ahead.
BARRY: How?
JOE: Like this, "Happy" Come on, go ahead. All right, my dear grandson, "A Happy Birthday". Barry's gonna sing to you a nice song. Go ahead, Barry, sing it! Go ahead, sing it! Come oncome on, Barry, sing it! Sing "A Happy Birthday". Barry, don't you want to sing it? Come on, Barry, sing itWell, I'm sorry, my dear grandson, Barry, don't want to sing for you. OK, what do you want to sing? Do you want to sing a rhumba? All right, sing the rhumba. Go ahead, Barry, sing it! Go ahead, Barry, sing it! Go ahead, Barry. Come on, sing it. Come on, Barry! You gotta talk to make a record. Don't you want to make a record? Don't you want to make a record? You want to make a record, Barry? Huh? Go ahead!
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happy Days
How many days I have left I don't know,
But there is one thing I'm sure is so…
Whether there are few or many more,
I alone will decide what my life's for.
It's for being happy and spreading mirth,
Celebrating what I know I'm worth.
Life is so short there's no time to complain
That when things go wrong, it's all in vain.
A share of good and bad things will transpire
So when it seems hopeless and things are dire,
The difference between sad and happy I see
Is that character in the mirror called "me."
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Grabby Gabby
Grabby Gabby was a little boy who was talking all the time
One day as he was walking, he saw on the sidewalk a dime
This started him to be grabby
Whenever he saw something shining, he would be grabby
One3 dayas he was walking, he saw a black shining lady's purse
He grabbed it and looked inside and found a lot of money in the purse
Also, he found a driver's license so he knew who the person was who owned the purse
So, he hurried to the ladie's house to return the purse
She was so happy that Grabby Gabby returned to her the purse and money
She gave him a reward of a large amount of money
June 29,2006, Clarence A. Graham, Jr.
poem by Jr. Clarence A. Graham
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