In Bohemia
I'D rather live in Bohemia than in any other land;
For only there are the values true,
And the laurels gathered in all men's view.
The prizes of traffic and state are won
By shrewdness or force or by deeds undone;
But fame is sweeter without the feud,
And the wise of Bohemia are never shrewd.
Here, pilgrims stream with a faith sublime
From every class and clime and time,
Aspiring only to be enrolled
With the names that are writ in the book of gold;
And each one bears in mind or hand
A palm of the dear Bohemian land.
The scholar first, with his book—a youth
Aflame with the glory of harvested truth;
A girl with a picture, a man with a play,
A boy with a wolf he has modeled in clay;
A smith with a marvelous hilt and sword,
A player, a king, a plowman, a lord—
And the player is king when the door is past.
The plowman is crowned, and the lord is last!
I'd rather fail in Bohemia than win in another land;
There are no titles inherited there,
No hoard or hope for the brainless heir;
No gilded dullard native born
To stare at his fellow with leaden scorn:
Bohemia has none but adopted sons;
Its limits, where Fancy's bright stream runs;
Its honors, not garnered for thrift or trade,
But for beauty and truth men's souls have made.
To the empty heart in a jeweled breast
There is value, maybe, in a purchased crest;
But the thirsty of soul soon learn to know
The moistureless froth of the social show;
The vulgar sham of the pompous feast
Where the heaviest purse is the highest priest;
The organized charity, scrimped and iced,
In the name of a cautious, statistical Christ;
The smile restrained, the respectable cant,
When a friend in need is a friend in want;
Where the only aim is to keep afloat,
And a brother may drown with a cry in his throat.
Oh, I long for the glow of a kindly heart and the grasp of a friendly hand,
And I'd rather live in Bohemia than in any other land.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Perdita
The sea coast of Bohemia
Is pleasant to the view
When singing larks spring from the grass
To fade into the blue,
And all the hawthorn hedges break
In wreaths of purest snow,
And yellow daffodils are out,
And roses half in blow.
The sea-coast of Bohemia
Is sad as sad can be,
The prince has ta’en our flower of maids
Across the violet sea;
Our Perdita has gone with him,
No more we dance the round
Upon the green in joyous play,
Or wake the tabor’s sound.
The sea-coast of Bohemia
Has many wonders seen,
The shepherd lass wed with a king,
The shepherd with a queen;
But such a wonder as my love
Was never seen before,
It is my joy and sorrow now
To love her evermore.
The sea-coast of Bohemia
Is haunted by a light
Of memory fair of lady’s eyes,
And fame of gallant knight;
The princes seek its charmèd strand,
But ah, it was our knell
When o’er the sea our Perdita
Went with young Florizel.
The sea-coast of Bohemia
Is not my resting-place,
For with her waned from out the day
A beauty and a grace:
O had I kissed her on the lips
I would no longer weep,
But live by that until the day
I fall to shade and sleep.
poem by James Hebblethwaite
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The Upper Bohemia people wore tuxedos in an art gallery, and Lower Bohemia was all of us.
quote by David Amram
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There was an Old Man of Bohemia,
Whose daughter was christened Euphemia,
Till one day, to his grief,
She married a thief,
Which grieved that Old Man of Bohemia.
quote by by Edward Lear
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Jan Kubelik
Your bow swept over a string, and a long low note quivered to the air.
(A mother of Bohemia sobs over a new child perfect learning to suck milk.)
Your bow ran fast over all the high strings fluttering and wild.
(All the girls in Bohemia are laughing on a Sunday afternoon in the hills with their lovers.)
poem by Carl Sandburg
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The Happiest Land. (From The German)
There sat one day in quiet,
By an alehouse on the Rhine,
Four hale and hearty fellows,
And drank the precious wine.
The landlord's daughter filled their cups
Around the rustic board;
Then sat they all so calm and still,
And spake not one rude word.
But, when the maid departed,
A Swabian raised his hand,
And cried, all hot and flushed with wine,
'Long live the Swabian land!
'The greatest kingdom upon earth
Cannot with that compare;
With all the stout and hardy men
And the nut-brown maidens there.'
Ha! cried a Saxon, laughing,--
And dashed his beard with wine;
' I had rather live in Lapland,
Than that Swabian land of thine!
The goodliest land on all this earth,
It is the Saxon land!
There have I as many maidens
As fingers on this hand!
Hold your tongues! both Swabian and Saxon!
A bold Bohemian cries;
'If there's a heaven upon this earth,
In Bohemia it lies.
There the tailor blows the flute,
And the cobbler blows the horn,
And the miner blows the bugle,
Over mountain gorge and bourn.
****
And then the landlord's daughter
Up to heaven raised her hand,
And said, Ye may no more contend,--
There lies the happiest land!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Happiest Land. (From The German)
There sat one day in quiet,
By an alehouse on the Rhine,
Four hale and hearty fellows,
And drank the precious wine.
The landlord's daughter filled their cups
Around the rustic board;
Then sat they all so calm and still,
And spake not one rude word.
But, when the maid departed,
A Swabian raised his hand,
And cried, all hot and flushed with wine,
'Long live the Swabian land!
'The greatest kingdom upon earth
Cannot with that compare;
With all the stout and hardy men
And the nut-brown maidens there.'
Ha! cried a Saxon, laughing,--
And dashed his beard with wine;
' I had rather live in Lapland,
Than that Swabian land of thine!
The goodliest land on all this earth,
It is the Saxon land!
There have I as many maidens
As fingers on this hand!
Hold your tongues! both Swabian and Saxon!
A bold Bohemian cries;
'If there's a heaven upon this earth,
In Bohemia it lies.
There the tailor blows the flute,
And the cobbler blows the horn,
And the miner blows the bugle,
Over mountain gorge and bourn.
****
And then the landlord's daughter
Up to heaven raised her hand,
And said, Ye may no more contend,--
There lies the happiest land!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Come Away
(g.bowser/j.jupp)
Published by chappell & co., ltd. - capac
As I walk along the lonely streets
I cant talk to the people that I meet
I see them come, and I see them go
I see them smile, and say hello
Come with me and take my hand
Ooh, fly away to another land, oh yes we will
Come with me and take my hand
Well fly away to another land
Come over here little girl
And Ill show you another world
Where we can be free to do as we want
Live our lives as we please, and say what we like, oh
Come with me and take my hand, ooh
Well fly away to another land
Come with me and take my hand, oh
And fly away to another land
Theres so many things that remain to be done
And no one has thought of a way to begin
So follow me into my life
Come with me and take my hand (and take...)
Fly away to another land (fly away to another land)
Come with me and take my hand (ooh)
Fly away to another land (fly away to another land)
Come with me and take my hand (take my hand)
Fly away to another land (oh yes we will)
Come with me and take my hand (and take my hand, take my hand)
Fly away to another land (yeah)
Come with me and take my hand
Fly away to another land
Come with me and take my hand
Fly away to another land
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Future Middle East
Today the future in the Middle East, as we hear, sounds very bleak.
As people with a deceptive heart, are looking for a brand new start,
Moving many men to understand, a crucial need to remap the land.
This to eradicate the Land of Israel, totally justified by a wicked will.
The tiny land men call Palestine, will be subdued by a force Divine.
The promise given to Abraham, by the will of God will forever stand.
The terror that now rules the land, will be eliminated by God’s Hand.
The Lord Himself shall intervene, with His presence upon the scene.
The present land on the world scene, was the land of the Philistines.
That ancient land was conquered by, Joshua’s army for God on high.
It was never subdued totally friend, but that mistake was not the end.
Eternal God, whose land this is, through King David took care of this.
For God put David on the Throne, in that land which is Israel’s home,
As the King of the Promised Land, that God had granted to Abraham.
God swore to David as the King, the reign he began was everlasting.
He reigned as King in Jerusalem, where all shall see God’s Own Son.
The land will be subdued for sure, by Jesus Christ, Messiah and Lord.
Never again shall it be the same, after Jesus Christ begins His Reign.
Christ will purge The Promised Land, for the descendents of Abraham.
Then all of Israel shall live secure, under the Reign of Christ our Lord.
(Copyright ©01/2006)
Bohemia
Bohemia, o'er thy unatlassed borders
How many cross, with half-reluctant feet,
And unformed fears of dangers and disorders,
To find delights, more wholesome and more sweet
Than ever yet were known to the "elite."
Herein can dwell no pretence and no seeming;
No stilted pride thrives in this atmosphere,
Which stimulates a tendency to dreaming.
The shores of the ideal world, from here,
Seem sometimes to be tangible and near.
We have no use for formal codes of fashion;
No "Etiquette f Courts" we emulate;
We know it needs sincerity and passion
To carry out the plans of God, or fate;
We do not strive to seem inanimate.
We call no time lost that we give to pleasure;
Life's hurrying river speeds to Death's great sea;
We cast out no vain plummet-line to measure
Imagined depths of that unknown To-Be,
But grasp the Now, and fill it full of glee.
All creeds have room here, and we all together
Devoutly worship at Art's sacred shrine;
But he who dwells once in thy golden weather,
Bohemia--sweet, lovely land of mine--
Can find no joy outside thy border-line.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Goodbye Bohemia
It starts, back there, somewhere
In the childhood,
the Oedipal melange.
Where, I am always right.
And then it proceeds in search
of doctrines, always right.
Goodbye Bohemia and Weimar.
For those places are free,
and every view coheres to
shape Geography,
from freedom of thought,
to freedom of mind and person.
The Spirit is a private thing,
and privately attracts,
like mindedness.
There is a Society in freedom.
But moving on from being right
and Comrades being right,
and parties of the right
and left are right.
It then moves further down
that linear line, horizontal
linear line, of thought,
and everyone must be right with me.
That is where it starts.
A tyranny of control,
a closing of other views,
a political correctness,
we the people,
and then the implementation,
' its for your own good'.,
' for society's good',
'we all must agree on this'.
then you must say
Goodbye to Bohemia,
Goodbye to Weimar,
Goodbye.
poem by Bernard Kennedy
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A Day of Prayer
We have called for a day of prayer, for men and women everywhere,
A day when the Creator is implored, by all those who know The Lord,
For intervention from God’s Right Hand, for our troubled, weary land,
The intervention of Jesus Christ, The Author of Salvation and our life.
As a nation we’ve fallen far away, from God, Who men seek this day,
Praying with hope and expectation, for a land, apart from Revelation,
Apart from the one believers cherish; without Truth a land shall perish.
So our urgent need, I say with a nod, is for this land to return to God.
The Lord God may not heal this land, but, our Lord can help us stand,
All those, who are part of His Mission, to stand against all opposition,
Those opposed to all moral principle, who want no part of God’s Will,
For all must embrace God’s Truth, to avoid God’s Righteous Reproof.
Our prayers must be for individuals, those mislead by darkened fools,
The fools, who say there is no God, over this nation, that we now trod,
For God indeed now reigns above, every darkened land that’s void of,
The Lord God’s Holy Revelation, with many souls in need of Salvation.
So men, who are called by God’s Son, must pray to God for everyone.
For those who are not born again, that God will touch the heart of men,
Changing the hearts within our nation; turning men to God’s Revelation,
So that we could again be a land, blessed and moved, by God’s Hand.
(05/2011)
Beyond The Cross
Beyond the cross God bids us die
That we in Christ should live
To later join our Groom on high
Through whom The Lord would give
With souls aglow with hearts ablaze
With Jesus as our guide
With selfless love through all our days
We’ll turn the stormy tide
Enduring life when born again
Continuing the fight
Upon loves throne we too may reign
In robes of brilliant white
But those who shrink from Jesus’ side
Who now God’s Son disown
They’ll fail to be a faithful bride
And join Him on His throne
Through faith we show our precious love
Through faith God sees we care
When faith restores to life above
Eternity we’ll share
When battles done, when still the sword
When victory’s song we sing
We’ll live forever with The Lord
Forever with our King
By hope, through faith we understand
A righteous soul will win
Glory awaits The Promised Land
Whom Jesus brings within
All this, because we’ve stood Christ true
Because we’ve run life’s race
Because we sought God’s will to do
In hope to see His face
poem by Michael P. Johnson
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Bohemia is nothing more than the little country in which you do not live. If you try to obtain citizenship in it, at once the court and retinue pack the royal archives and treasure and move away beyond the hills.
Thirsty Souls
Everyone has a thirsty soul, a driving force to make man whole,
To fill that spiritual side of man, being part of the Creator’s plan.
Everyone who truly does thirst, truly must seek the Creator first,
He’s the only one able to fill, souls according to His eternal will.
Filling us with the Spirit of God, sent down upon all earthly sod,
To dwell in the soul of all of us, who in the Lord place their trust.
God brings us first to His Son, the Lord and Savior of everyone,
Then God fills you day by day, as you walk in life’s Narrow Way.
Out from a dry and barren land, He guides us with a loving hand,
To God’s Eternal River of Life, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
God takes a soul, once aloof, into the Word, God’s Eternal Truth,
And He fills the soul as they read, making changes as they heed.
Christ fills us beyond our need, as God’s Spirit, we allow to lead,
Upon The Rock we take a stand, as we go to the Promised Land,
The Rock, from where water flows, to the souls the Father knows,
The Living Water from above, provided through the Savior’s love.
God shall fill the souls of men, who in Christ become Born Again,
Come to Him and thirst no more, by Jesus Christ the Living Door,
Who fills thirsty souls of men, in ways which only the Creator can,
As He fills their souls spiritually, preparing them for Life Eternally.
(Copyright ©06/2008)
You see, but you do not observe.
Arthur Conan Doyle in A Scandal in Bohemia (1892)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prophet, Priest And King
An Angel came to shepherds at night with Good News in which to bring,
A Savior’s been born to you today, who is a Prophet, Priest and King.
The shepherds filled with great joy praised The Lord from the start,
Mary hearing them praise her boy, pondered these things in her heart.
Visiting the Temple at age twelve Christ spoke with much insistence,
And speaking to Mary would tell her He’s about His Father’s business.
For Christ was not just another man but He is Almighty God Incarnate,
He was sent into The Holy Land and revealed as God’s final Prophet.
He was spoken of by Moses as the prophet like him, who would come,
And this Prophet knows all about us for He is God’s One and Only Son.
Many men were prophets in the past and used by God as He had willed,
And Jesus, my friend, was the last, as prophecy in Him was fulfilled.
The Old Testament economy of then since that time, friend has ceased,
And Jesus is now The Way for all men, from the greatest to the least.
No longer one ordained by men, Christ is our Heavenly Eternal Priest,
He is the final Priest my friend, to bring all men God’s Eternal peace.
The Jews mocked Jesus as a king, but that is exactly what Christ is,
And He’s coming back as Eternal King, with all those He knows as His.
He is the final revelation from God no matter what this world thinks,
And He’s coming with an iron rod to reign as Lord and King of Kings.
Well, isn't Bohemia a place where everyone is as good as everyone else - and must not a waiter be a little less than a waiter to be a good Bohemian?
quote by Djuna Barnes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waiting For You
The Lord God was always there, friend, you simply didn’t see Him,
Loaded down with a heart of care, and tainted by unbelief and sin,
And God was there at the start, knitting you together in that womb,
But, many from Him grow apart, and God in their life has no room.
The Lord God has room for all, within His Everlasting, Eternal plan,
That’s everyone friend, big or small, He made room for every man,
Friend, it’s not the Lord, but us, who need to make a change within,
And only as we come to Him in trust, can that change inside begin.
It’s God, who’s waiting patiently, wanting all to come to redemption,
And give to them new life eternally, to everyone, with no exemption,
Christ Jesus was indeed sent by Him, to offer all men reconciliation,
It’s through Christ God pardons sin, of every man from every nation.
It is not God, who moves, but men, as they move far from His Truth,
And in a world that is condemned, to remain apart they face reproof,
His Truth is offered to every land, through the message we proclaim,
With hope that all will understand, true freedom comes in One Name.
The Lord will not always wait, for this present age will someday end,
Something you need to contemplate, before you depart dear friend,
As a mortal man, made from dust, for you to experience eternal life,
Choosing to believe is a must, in The Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
(Copyright ©07/2008)
In Bohemia
Ha! My dear! I'm back again--
Vendor of Bohemia's wares!
Lordy! How it pants a man
Climbing up those awful stairs!
Well, I've made the dealer say
Your sketch _might_ sell, anyway!
And I've made a publisher
Hear my poem, Kate, my dear.
In Bohemia, Kate, my dear--
Lodgers in a musty flat
On the top floor--living here
Neighborless, and used to that,--
Like a nest beneath the eaves,
So our little home receives
Only guests of chirping cheer--
We'll be happy, Kate, my dear!
Under your north-light there, you
At your easel, with a stain
On your nose of Prussian blue,
Paint your bits of shine and rain;
With my feet thrown up at will
O'er my littered window-sill,
I write rhymes that ring as clear
As your laughter, Kate, my dear.
Puff my pipe, and stroke my hair--
Bite my pencil-tip and gaze
At you, mutely mooning there
O'er your 'Aprils' and your 'Mays!'
Equal inspiration in
Dimples of your cheek and chin,
And the golden atmosphere
Of your paintings, Kate, my dear!
_Trying_! Yes, at times it is,
To clink happy rhymes, and fling
On the canvas scenes of bliss,
When we are half famishing!--
When your 'jersey' rips in spots,
And your hat's 'forget-me-nots'
Have grown tousled, old and sere--
It is trying, Kate, my dear!
But--as sure--_some_ picture sells,
And--sometimes--the poetry--
Bless us! How the parrot yells
His acclaims at you and me!
How we revel then in scenes
Of high banqueting!--sardines--
Salads--olives--and a sheer
Pint of sherry, Kate, my dear!
Even now I cross your palm,
With this great round world of gold!--
'Talking wild?' Perhaps I am--
Then, this little five-year-old!--
Call it anything you will,
So it lifts your face until
I may kiss away that tear
Ere it drowns me, Kate, my dear.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The King Will Return
They were attacked by surprise
In the middle of the night
They didnt stand a single chance
A single chance to fight
After the battle they gathered around the king
And they had never seen that man so sad
Im riding out to get those men
Who hurt my people bad, so bad
The king will return
With gold in his hand
The castle will burn
In the enemy land
And be will save our people
When two springs had passed a messanger
Came down the track
He said that he had heard great news
The king is coming back
Oh the time he was gone
They suffered bad in misery
Tehy didnt know the way
Everyone was shouting
Save our kingdom now
They suffered bad in pain
The time he was away
But maybe now they could survive
Now they could survive
When the king came down the hill
To his people and his land
There were many tears
That touched the ground
And made marks in the sand
Yes now they could start all over again
And live in peace throughout time
Everyone was shouting
When the king came down the hill
The king is returning with gold in his hand
The castle is burning
In the enemy land
The king is...
song performed by by Europe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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