Related quotes: That which I saved I...

Recompense: (For Lord Kilhacken)

That which I saved I lost
And that I lost I found,
And you are mine, oh tender little ghost,
Whose grave is holy ground.

That which I kept is flown,
So fast the children grow,
The only child I keep to be my own
I lost long years ago.

The little ones that stayed
Slip from me while I cry:
Oh, not so fast, so fast, you golden-head.
Swift as the wind they fly.

Not two days are the same.
To-morrow will not see
To-day's young children, crested like a flame,
Gathered about my knee.

One day a day will dawn
Will see me dispossessed --
An empty nest whence singing-birds have flown.
Who shall refill the nest?

The years run out like sand
To strip me of my pride;
Then in my hand will steal a clinging hand.
I keep the child who died.

God gives and does not lend
This one lamb of the fold;
And he will need his mother to the end
And never will grow old.

poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Elderly These Days!

The younger birds have flown off far away!
Their parents aged are left alone today;
The nest looks empty, silent, everyday;
O Lord, show us your way- they pray!

Who cares who cares for elderly these days?
All children seem busy in their own ways;
Mere solitude is what the world repays;
Oh, what a blot on modern human race!

What love was shown by parents in years past!
They look now weary, dazed, with eyes downcast;
They live in penury and sickness fast;
’Tis years, their near and dear ones saw them last!

Cannot all children understand their plight?
Neglecting elderly is never right;
God sees their bloody tears when children fight;
The elderly need food, comfort, care, sight!

Our parents kept us warm when we were cold;
All children have a duty to ones old;
The elderly need young shoulders to hold;
Their virtuous deeds are worth more than all gold!

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Doesn't Seem It But Believe

It doesn't seem it but believe,
The time has flown so fast.
It doesn't seem it but believe,
The time has flown so fast.
One minute we are wiping a nose.
And the next second...
It seems,
We're now all old.
It doesn't seem that the time has flown away so fast.

It doesn't seem it but believe the time has flown so fast.
It doesn't seem it but believe the time has flown so fast.
Was it yesterday we said hello,
To the one we wanted to do that...good rock and roll.
It doesn't seem that the time has flown away so fast.

It doesn't seem it,
But believe...
The time has flown so fast.

It doesn't seem it,
But believe...
Some thoughts we have we should let pass.

You cain't change a game played when it's over.
Nor can you redefine a lover who has gone to another.

Yes as cruel as it can be,
To see a time we lived to see flee fast.
From a rocking seat!
Yes as cruel as it can be,
To see a time we lived to see flee fast.

It doesn't seem it but believe it that the time has flown so fast
From a rocking seat!

You cain't change a game played when it's over.
Nor can you redefine a lover who has gone to another.
It doesn't seem that the time has flown away so fast.
From a rocking seat!
It doesn't seem that the time has flown away so fast.

It doesn't seem it,
But believe...
The time has flown so fast.
From a rocking seat!

It doesn't seem it,
But believe...
Some thoughts we should have let go pass.
From a rocking seat!

And there we sit by a window looking older.
With plans to feed a cat,
At the back door.
Who meows for leftovers.
It doesn't seem that the time has flown away so fast.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nursing

O hush, my little baby brother;
Sleep, my love, upon my knee.
What though, dear child, we've lost our mother;
That can never trouble thee.

You are but ten weeks old to-morrow;
What can you know of our loss?
The house is full enough of sorrow.
Little baby, don't be cross.

Peace, cry not so, my dearest love;
Hush, my baby-bird, lie still.-
He's quiet now, he does not move,
Fast asleep is little Will.

My only solace, only joy,
Since the sad day I lost my mother,
Is nursing her own Willy boy,
My little orphan brother.

poem by Charles Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Is How All Sunny Days Should Be

Green grass grows fast, green grass
I want you to grow so fast
So I can leap up, from the ground
And pretend to fly, soar so high
And then gravity, cruel, vile, unkind
Will drag me down, and shut my laugh
And then, green grass, (grow fast)
I’ll be sad of falling down
But then, my friend you’ll muffle my fall
And ill lie there
……..Calm………..
And hide, in the very green, tall,
Great, bed like grass
And then I’ll stare at the sky
(Light blue, immense sky)
And get lost in the clouds
(White, light absorbing clouds)
And then I’ll only hear the birds
And the wind brushing the branches
And the flowers will be dancing
To the rhythm of the air
And then I’ll think
“This is how all sunny days should be”

poem by Ana Ónimo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One of the Shepherds

We were out on the hills that night
To watch our sheep;
Drowsily by the fire we lay
Where the waning flame did flicker and leap,
And some were weary and half asleep,
And some talked low of their flocks and the fright
Of a lion that day.

But I had drawn from the others apart;
I was only a lad,
And the night's great silence so filled my heart
That I dared not talk and I dared not jest;
The moon had gone down behind the hill
And even the wind of the desert was still;
As the touch of death the air was cold,
And the world seemed all outworn and old;
Yet a poignant delight in my soul was guest,
And I could not be sad.

Still were my thoughts the thoughts of youth
Under the skies:
I dreamed of the holy and tender truth
That shone for me in my mother's eyes;
Of my little sister's innocent grace,
And the mirthful lure in the olive face
Of a maid I had seen at the well that day,
Singing low as I passed that way,
And so sweet and wild were the notes of her song,
That I listened long.

Was it the dawn that silvered and broke
Over the hill?
Each at the other looked in amaze,
And never a breathless word we spoke.
Fast into rose and daffodil
Deepened that splendor; athwart its blaze
That pierced like a sword the gulf of night
We saw a form that was shaped of the light,
And we veiled our faces in awe and dread
To hearken the tidings the Bright One told
Oh! wonderful were the words he said
Of a Child in Bethlehem's manger old.

The stars were drowned in that orient glow;
The sky was abloom like a meadow in spring;
But each blossom there was a radiant face
And each flash of glory a shining wing;
They harped of peace and great good will,
And such was their music that well I know
There can never again in my soul be space
For a sound of ill.

The light died out as the sunset dies
In the western skies;
Swift went we to the Bethlehem khan,
Many our questions laughed to scorn,
But one, a gray and wrinkled man,
With strange, deep eyes that searched the heart,
Led us down to the child new-born
In a dim-lighted cave apart.

There on the straw the mother lay
Wan and white,
But her look was so holy and rapt and mild
That it seemed to shed a marvellous light,
Faint as the first rare gleam of day,
Around the child.

It was as other children are
Saving for something in the eyes,
Starlike and clear and strangely wise
Then came a sudden thought to me
Of a lamb I had found on the waste afar;
Lost and sick with hunger and cold,
I had brought it back in my arms to the fold
For tender ministry.

Dawn had flooded the east as a wave
When we left the cave;
All the world suddenly seemed to be
Young and pure and joyous again;
The others lingered to talk with the men,
Full of wonder and rapture still;
But I hastened back to the fold on the hill
To tend the lamb that had need of me.

poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A little kid

I wished to be little kid
Mother’s hand to feed
Father to lift with strong hand
Brother to throw me in open sand

To stand up on feet with great courage
Little steps forward but unable to manage
Desire to grow fast with total disregard to age
Still safe under shed but not meant to be in cage

It is safe world for all times to come
Everybody to shake hand with warm welcome
All needs to be met at short notice
I felt it amusing and very nice

To run after mother step by step
To be pushed in corner with tying of trap
No nuisance of any kind simple tolerated
Simple movements revealed and narrated

Youth has lost al its charm
Child days were very warm
It has its own charismatic value
You get everything even when not due

I would love to live again
As child to be with family main
What a days to be spent with complete joy?
it was nice to spent it with different toys

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Slow Spring

O year, grow slowly. Exquisite, holy,
The days go on
With almonds showing the pink stars blowing
And birds in the dawn.

Grow slowly, year, like a child that is dear,
Or a lamb that is mild,
By little steps, and by little skips,
Like a lamb or a child.

poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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SONNET: And This is Life!

Two Birds, a male and female met at last;
They found the tree on which to build their nest;
But soon, their little ones came rather fast;
The Birds hadn’t time for love-making or rest!

The Wind blew strongly; scorching was the Sun;
The Rain fell heavily upon their nest;
Rearing the young ones was both strain and fun;
Even a Snake came to their nest as guest1

But God helped them to find the worms for food;
And Spring replaced the Winter’s freezing cold;
The Birds laboured all life as best as could;
Their young ones turned adults; and they grew old!

When Death came like a robber in the night,
Both Birds never offered the slightest fight!

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Hunting Song

Hunters, where does Hope nest?
Not in the half-oped breast,
Nor the young rose,
Nor April sunrise—those
With a quick wing she brushes,
The wide world through,
Greets with the throat of thrushes,
Fades from as fast as dew.

But, would you spy her sleeping,
Cradled warm,
Look in the breast of weeping,
The tree stript by storm;
But, would you bind her fast,
Yours at last,
Bed-mate and lover,
Gain the last headland bare
That the cold tides cover,
There may you capture her, there,
Where the sea gives to the ground
Only the drift of the drowned.
Yet, if she slips you, once found,
Push to her uttermost lair
In the low house of despair.
There will she watch by your head,
Sing to you till you be dead,
Then, with your child in her breast,
In another heart build a new nest.

poem by Edith Wharton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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you bring me closer to the Lord

i am lost. But they say, one who is lost
is ultimately found. Be it here.
Or there. I will be found.

by you. You will catch me
red handed on a faith
that is lost like a sheep

and you shall come with
your staff and call me
by my name. You say

You are mine. You are my long
lost child. And you embrace me.
Like the way my
father once embraced me.

and i will cry. and i will be
comforted. You tell me again

You love me. I love you.
Then we walk hand in hand.
And then so weary
i get tired. and then you pick
me up and hold me with
your arms. and then you carry
me.

and then i fall asleep.
and dream of you.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Her Own Two Feet

Natalie Wood's ghost is haunting me
She looks just like you
It's a shame my tastes are getting so old
So few
You flew down to Baltimore
With your brand new wings
I stayed and filled my life with useless, useless things
Doesn't really matter where we spend our time
Two years ago
Just another long goodbye
Your words have frozen in a cold November rain
Let me pretend that I don't care
Kimberley watches from afar
She won't stand too close
Cause when I'm lost in my head
Is when I miss her the most
I wrapped you up inside my heart
And folded you up tight
Didn't realize you meant what you said
Meant what you said
Those days are over
No more splendor in the grass
Two years ago and it's fading fast
It's all washed away with the castles and the sand
Can't tell tomorrow by the lies in your head

song performed by by Nine Days
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golden Years

he finally reached his golden years
wanted to leave his family,
thoughts and love to share.
so he sat with pen in hand
wrote about his lifes plan.

it started off with just his dream
never expecting the unforseen.
as his plans began to unwind
he found himself lost in time.

he joined the army at an early age
this was to become the setting stage
he survived the street gangs and a war
and never talking about what he saw.

he managed retail businesses all his life
met the woman who would become his wife.
he had always loved children
so he thought it was time
his wife agreed and it turned out fine.

a beautiful little girl came into their life
and everything seemed twice as nice.
now he had two women who captured his heart
and knew right then, that this was the start.

the start to his golden years
with his wife he could share.
all the dreams that were meant to be
was now becoming a reality.

but the years was going by fast
he knew his dreams would not last.
now with this thought in mind
he decided it was time
to put his life in perspective
for the golden years to become effective.

so he changed his train of thoughts
a late retirement he would abort.
he retired before his time
so he could enjoy life the way
that it was meant to be
living happy and carefree.

now that he finished writing
down his thoughts and plans
he let them know
'YOUR PERCEPTION BECOMES YOUR REALITY'
and this is what mine was to me.
the golden years are now mine
and i'm lost in its time.

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When A Child Is Lost

When a child is lost,
lost to unknown circumstances,
lost to suspicion of persons
with evil intentions,
then to the eyes of the parents
the lights of sun, moon and stars
have ceased to shine,
the blooming flowers in October
lose their fragrance,
and food doesn't taste
in the tongue.

When a child is lost,
then parents who plea
for their child's return
move us to tears
because children are not
goods to be stolen
but priceless treasure
to be cared for.

When the child is lost,
we share the universal pain
of losing our beloved.
Let us pray that the human goodness
in the heart of the person
who stole the child prevail
and that the lost child
be found.

poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Children Of The Moon

(lead vocal - david paton)
Pay no attention to the writing on the wall
The words seem empty cause theres nothing there at all
We let the wise men beat the drums too soon
We were just children of the moon
No one to turn to
Nowhere to run to even if we could
Too late to save us but try to understand
The seas were empty there was hunger in the land
We let the blind man lead the way too long
Easy to see where we went wrong
Nothing to live for
Nothing to die for
Were lost in the middle of a hopeless world
Lost in the middle of a hopeless world
Children children of the moon watch the world go by
Children children of the moon are hiding from the sun and the sky
Children children of the moon watch it all go by
Children children of the moon are blinded by the light in their eyes
No one to turn to
Nowhere to run to even if we could
Follow the pilgrim to the temple of the dawn
The altars empty and the sacrifice is gone
We let the madmen write the golden rules
We were no more than mortal fools
Nothing to live for
Nothing to die for
Were lost in the middel of a hopeless world
Lost in the middle of a hopeless world
Children children of the moon watch the world go by
Children children of the moon hiding from the sky

song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Child’s Treasures

Thou art home at last, my darling one,
Flushed and tired with thy play,
From morning dawn until setting sun
Hast thou been at sport away;
And thy steps are weary—hot thy brow,
Yet thine eyes with joy are bright,—
Ah! I read the riddle, show me now
The treasures thou graspest tight.

A pretty pebble, a tiny shell,
A feather by wild bird cast,
Gay flowers gathered in forest dell,
Already withering fast,
Four speckled eggs in a soft brown nest,
Thy last and thy greatest prize,
Such the things that fill with joy thy breast,
With laughing light thine eyes.

Ah! my child, what right have I to smile
And whisper, too dearly bought,
By wand’ring many a weary mile—
Dust, heat, and toilsome thought?
For we, the children of riper years,
Task aching heart and brain,
Waste yearning hopes and anxious fears
On baubles just as vain.

For empty title, ribbon or star,
For worshipped and much-sought gold,
How men will struggle at home—afar—
And suffer toils untold;
Plodding their narrow and earth-bound way
Amid restless care and strife,
Wasting not merely a fleeting day,
But the precious years of life.

And thou, fair child, with to-morrow’s dawn
Wilt rise up calm and glad,
To cull wild flowers ’mid wood and lawn,
Untroubled by memory sad;
But, alas! the worldly-wise of earth,
When life’s last bonds are riven,
Will find that for things of meanest worth
They’ve lost both Life and Heaven.

poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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The Way I Feel

The way i feel is like a robin
Whose babes have flown to come no more
A tall oak tree alone and cryin'
When her birds have flown and the nest is bare
Now a woman lord is like a young bird
And the tall oak tree is like a young man's heart
Among his boughs you will find her nesting
When the nights are cool she's warm and dry
Your coat of green will protect her
Her wings will grow your love will too
But all too soon your mighty branches
Will cease to hold her she'll fly from you
If i'd wings to fly
I'd follow you
If you'd wait for me
I'd fly away
I'd fly away

song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Shadow

From Child's Garden of Verses

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow--
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
And he sometimes goes so little that there's none of him at all.

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close behind me, he's a coward you can see;
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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The Things That Matter

NOW that I've nearly done my days,
And grown too stiff to sweep or sew,
I sit and think, till I'm amaze,
About what lots of things I know:
Things as I've found out one by one--
And when I'm fast down in the clay,
My knowing things and how they're done
Will all be lost and thrown away.

There's things, I know, as won't be lost,
Things as folks write and talk about:
The way to keep your roots from frost,
And how to get your ink spots out.
What medicine's good for sores and sprains,
What way to salt your butter down,
What charms will cure your different pains,
And what will bright your faded gown.

But more important things than these,
They can't be written in a book:
How fast to boil your greens and peas,
And how good bacon ought to look;
The feel of real good wearing stuff,
The kind of apple as will keep,
The look of bread that's rose enough,
And how to get a child asleep.

Whether the jam is fit to pot,
Whether the milk is going to turn,
Whether a hen will lay or not,
Is things as some folks never learn.
I know the weather by the sky,
I know what herbs grow in what lane;
And if sick men are going to die,
Or if they'll get about again.

Young wives come in, a-smiling, grave,
With secrets that they itch to tell:
I know what sort of times they'll have,
And if they'll have a boy or gell.
And if a lad is ill to bind,
Or some young maid is hard to lead,
I know when you should speak 'em kind,
And when it's scolding as they need.

I used to know where birds ud set,
And likely spots for trout or hare,
And God may want me to forget
The way to set a line or snare;
But not the way to truss a chick,
To fry a fish, or baste a roast,
Nor how to tell, when folks are sick,
What kind of herb will ease them most!

Forgetting seems such silly waste!
I know so many little things,
And now the Angels will make haste
To dust it all away with wings!
O God, you made me like to know,
You kept the things straight in my head,
Please God, if you can make it so,
Let me know something when I'm dead.

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lost in Today

I’m lost in a handheld time
Lost in a time of top notch cell phones and laptops.
I’m lost in a time of chaos
Lost in a time of too much homework, too many sports, and not enough sleep.

I’m lost within a race
Lost amidst the fast paced hustle of getting into a good college.
I’m lost in the scheme of things
Lost in the constant pressure of what I’m going to do after high school.

I’m lost and I can’t find my way out
Lost and sinking fast.

I’m quickly losing myself to time
As forever paces on and on.

Sarah Riley

poem by Elisa Riley
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