A Woman's Honour
Love bade me hope, and I obeyed;
Phyllis continued still unkind:
Then you may e'en despair, he said,
In vain I strive to change her mind.
Honour's got in, and keeps her heart,
Durst he but venture once abroad,
In my own right I'd take your part,
And show myself the mightier God.
This huffing Honour domineers
In breasts alone where he has place:
But if true generous Love apppears,
The hector dares not show his face.
Let me still languish and complain,
Be most unhumanly denied:
I have some pleasure in my pain,
She can have none with all her pride.
I fall a sacrifice to Love,
She lives a wretch for Honour's sake;
Whose tyrant does most cruel prove,
The difference is not hard to make.
Consider real Honour then,
You'll find hers cannot be the same;
'Tis noble confidence in men,
In women, mean, mistrustful shame.
poem by Lord John Wilmot
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What Shall I Do For the Land that Bred Me
What shall I do for the land that bred me,
Her homes and fields that folded and fed me?—
Be under her banner and live for her honour:
Under her banner I’ll live for her honour.
CHORUS. Under her banner live for her honour.
Not the pleasure, the pay, the plunder,
But country and flag, the flag I am under—
There is the shilling that finds me willing
To follow a banner and fight for honour.
CH. We follow her banner, we fight for her honour.
Call me England’s fame’s fond lover,
Her fame to keep, her fame to recover.
Spend me or end me what God shall send me,
But under her banner I live for her honour.
CH. Under her banner we march for her honour.
Where is the field I must play the man on?
O welcome there their steel or cannon.
Immortal beauty is death with duty,
If under her banner I fall for her honour.
CH. Under her banner we fall for her honour.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Honour Life
honour life
honour people loved
while they are here
rather than mourn
when they are gone
when it is too late
show a little sincere appreciation
for family friends life loved
saving you from empty alienation
appreciate gift love time
subtle small gifts divine
memories shine through time
to love appreciate fully now
seems a far better rational response
than to regret at fatal final hour
honour life
honour life
while it is here
poem by Terence George Craddock
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M: II: I Cannot Pay your Honour
I have sought to triumph over nothing,
have tri-ed,
have failed to -umph.
Honour is paid
By accepting honour.
By accepting honour,
I would honour trying,
would honour lack of -umph.
I cannot pay your honour.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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A Sweet Contention Between Love, His Mistress, And Beauty
Love and my mistress were at strife
Who had the greatest power on me:
Betwixt them both, oh, what a life!
Nay, what a death is this to be!
She said, she did it with her eye;
He said, he did it with his dart;
Betwixt them both (a silly wretch!)
'Tis I that have the wounded heart.
She said, she only spake the word
That did enchant my peering sense;
He said, he only gave the sound
That enter'd heart without defence.
She said, her beauty was the mark
That did amaze the highest mind;
He said, he only made the mist
Whereby the senses grew so blind.
She said, that only for her sake,
The best would venture life and limb:
He said, she was too much deceiv'd;
They honour'd her because of him.
Long while, alas, she would not yield,
But it was she that rul'd the roost;
Until by proof, she did confess,
If he were gone, her joy was lost.
And then she cried, 'Oh, dainty love,
I now do find it is for thee,
That I am lov'd and honour'd both,
And thou hast power to conquer me.'
But, when I heard her yield to love,
Oh! how my heart did leap for joy!
That now I had some little hope
To have an end to mine annoy!
But, as too soon, before the field
The trumpets sound the overthrow,
So all too soon I joy'd too much,
For I awaked, and nothing saw.
poem by Nicholas Breton
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To Succeed With Honour
the will to honour win
to succeed with honour
to sacrifice for honour
is worth in excess
of 24 carat gold
an attitude not to be sold
poem by Terence George Craddock
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In Honour Of You
In honour of you I'll live my life
To the very best of my ability
I'll recall and apply every wise counsel you ever offered
Savour every word you said trying to raise whatever
Cherish your every attempt to make me feel
In honour of you I'll face the pain gladly
I'll be thankful for the occasion to gain insight
I'll do my utmost to meet with equanimity
Every asshole angel put on my path
Welcoming each challenge as a great opportunity to grow
In honour of you - who has shown me being
Who's own pain is never ever spoken
Who's long suffering is celebrated as a great gift
Who's love and teaching nourishes so, so many
Many and I see life with far, far clearer eyes
In honour of you, who's feet I humbly touch
I shall greet each day with limitless joy
Capture every sparkling moment in my heart's nest
Move forward into new projects, new beginnings
Holding ever and always the nearness of your gracious presence
In honour of you I'll continue traveling
Exploring other cultures, other peoples, other points of view
I'll become fluent in la lingua italiana, visit the Aeolian islands
Find some tenderness for India; visit an ashram; practice Yoga
Everything and anything - all in honour and appreciation of you
poem by Winston T. Gylles
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Stop These Honour Killings
those who kill in the name of honour
what honour are they talking about?
who are you to take so precious a life
who are you to bring justice about
love conquers all so we are told
but here love has bought only death and hate
redeem your twisted sense of justice
take guard before its just too late
to kill to maim, is not humane
to play God is more insane
oh twisted sense of justice, stop
stop causing so much shock and pain
who are you to kill in the name of honour
what honour are u talking about
leave justice to the one above
forget this violence, just cast it out,
live and let live is what should be
look within and always learn to see
you are not perfect, far from it,
cast out cruelty and tyranny
youre full of lies, ego, false pride,
you think others will look up to you
look within my friend and see yourself
youre not a hero, but the hated few
honour is sacred, burning bright
belongs to men that stand up and fight
men who value life for all
men of honour stand out tall
stop these killings once for all
you think youre high but you'll take a fall
play not the judge, just live your own
before bad karma seeds be sown
poem by Arti Chopra
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Chanson d’Amour
I thought to live without true love
All my life through to be at peace,
But this heart, once again, would prove
Its folly from which I had won free.
Greater the folly is in me
Than child crying foolishly
To possess the lovely star
He sees shining clear and far.
However much I may despair
Love has well rewarded me
For serving him with all the care
I possess, without treachery,
Making Folly’s King of me.
Let all beware his deceit
Who grants such a gift, we see,
To those who serve loyally.
If I show anger it’s no wonder
To one who wounds me so sore
God! If I had him in my power
For just one day and no more:
Then he’d pay for his folly
As God my witness be!
He’d pay with his death, unless
He vanquished my lady blessed.
Ay! Noble heart, that is so wise,
Don’t scorn all my foolishness.
I know I’ve not the slightest right
To love you, just a lover’s right:
But folly drives us recklessly
Like a storm-tossed ship at sea,
That’s blown where the wind will blow,
Until all’s wrecked and brought low.
My lady who lacks never a grace,
Generous, kind, show me mercy:
Since there’s no evil in that face
But all good shines there clearly,
You know from whence this folly
That takes my life comes to me.
To whom can I cry again,
Except to you, in pain?
Song, pay her your respects, she
Is my sweet folly, and please
Beg her for God and honour
Never to prove a traitor.
poem by Le Châtelain de Coucy
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Your love is wicked (parody)
(with apology to Koos A. Kombuis)
When you are crying
I want to strive
to be in your shadow
to feel the pain in everything,
every morning when I rise
I stumble over my bed
and chest of drawers
and when I have nausea from drinking
then I only want to eat
when you are with me,
at times I want to taste you
like wild berries
and even in my dark moods
I want to fall
deep into you
I want to make you stop
when you whisper
about the words
of evil sailors
and I want to go along
when you walk the streets
as a part of your neuroses
your favour is almost honourable
and totally unrestrained
your honour is without guilt
blinded by sin,
blinded without comfort,
blinded from love
and totally immoral
yesterday just like you
I went astray
in your urges
for a long time
with a lot of skeletons
without any phobias
or songs
it teems with LSD
and you tell
without asking
and the message that I am getting,
is that you are
a sweet mother in Africa
I curse
at every sign
of another guy
that fits over you,
I curse
just now
when I was shaking
your favour is almost honourable
and totally unrestrained
your honour is without guilt
blinded by sin,
blinded without comfort,
blinded from love
and totally immoral
It’s a sweet-berry daybreak
that is happening while we are together
its cry out upon cry out
without any point in mind
and why the hell
are you going home
while immorality eats you up?
I want to show you pain
deep in my heart
but you have got to wait
and nobody else
may hold onto you,
the old guy is upon you
with your applause
but he’s not holding
unto your buttocks
I want to make you stop
when you whisper
about the words
of evil sailors
and I want to go along
when you walk the streets
as a part of your neuroses
your favour is almost honourable
and totally unrestrained
your honour is without guilt
blinded by sin,
blinded without comfort,
blinded from love
and totally immoral.
poem by Gert Strydom
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To Love, To Honour And Obey
To love, to honour and obey
Her three vows on her wedding day
She loved and honoured for awhile
But she never once did obey.
Her husband quite a pleasant man
With him she always had her way
And he adhered to his marriage vows
To love, to honour and obey.
He quickly aged before his time
And poor health gave way to decay
And he died at forty nine years old
And a cheap headstone tell where he lay.
And she made sure she held her looks
And with tints and dyes she hid her gray
And she paid huge sum for new face lift
And she looked like one in her prime day.
In time she met with younger man
And though with him she did not have her way
They married and she kept her vows
To love, to honour and obey.
To love, to honour and obey
Her three vows on her wedding day
She loved and honoured for awhile
But she never once did obey.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Name this Teddy Bear
In the centre of the window at your local Kidz-r-Uz,
all winking fairy lights, glitter, sparkle and buy-me,
sits a bear. A Teddy Bear.
He’s the soul of Patience
in any and all religions – one paw held out
to take you by the hand – that’s, should you ask –
he’s Faith, Hope, and Love:
he’s Faith itself; he’s beyond our grown-up limits,
he’s Faith like children know – real Faith;
Faith that’s beyond the breaking faith;
he’s every hope that Christmas promises,
or Chanukah, or any other winter feast
when parents give their children tokens of their love…
he asks nothing of you, but to receive your love,
unconditionally.. a cuddly mirror of your love
in which you’ll see and know that love;
to show you Love itself unblemished..
unlike all else in this changing world
inhabited by changeable human beings,
he wouldn’t know how to let you down;
deny your faith; destroy your hope; reject your love;
he’ll be a part of your life, for life;
and rightly so. Look closely at him:
is he the one for you?
He will be your first taste of life’s nobility;
almost, you could say, divine;
he will sit for you as your steady self
in the temple of your heart;
give him the name that honours
honour itself – give him the Name
that this world means to you; a name
that none can take from him;
honour him as that.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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And is love very strong where honour rules?
And is love very strong where honour rules?
Would the world ever speak of Lancelot's love
Or Tristram's love had they put honour first?
What would you think if Guinevere had knelt
And begged for kisses and had begged in vain?
Should she be constant had she been refused
Or would she laugh and turn to love elsewhere?
But Joseph is a hero nowadays
And young Paolo, the Italian blood,
Rather too rash and uncontrollable.
Lovers who are not free should sigh and part—
Lovers, you call them—and not free to love:
They may be wives or husbands, businessmen,
Saints even: they're not lovers. After all
I'd rather be a lover than a saint.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Sonnet 25: Let those who are in favour with their stars
Let those who are in favour with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,
Unlooked for joy in that I honour most.
Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread,
But as the marigold at the sun's eye,
And in themselves their pride lies burièd,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famousèd for fight,
After a thousand victories once foiled,
Is from the book of honour razèd quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toiled.
Then happy I that love and am beloved
Where I may not remove nor be removed.
poem by William Shakespeare
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She Denied Him For Me
Did i promise you rubies?
Did i promise you emarald?
What in your eyes have i done?
To the majority im a clown,
But you make me wear the crown
She denied him for me
My eyes have guilt,
You pretend you cant see it,
My hands are cold,
You pretend they are warm
For my happiness you gave him pain
She denied him for me
What manner of charm have i,
Like a love spell of lifetime,
What have you seen in me,
To love beyond decision,
To honour with descretion,
To trust with a vision,
As though love is a mission
She denied him for me
My face potray a smile,
My heart reflects guilt,
Crusifying the heart of another man,
To resurrect my long lost love,
She denied him for me
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Love An Ideal
Love is not romantic feeling, love is an ideal,
a dream - unhappy relations are based on
dependency, happy relations on self-
esteem, respect and dignity
You base your happiness on work and sacrifice
ignoring your need for freedom and joy, such
self-sacrifice without appreciation makes you
feel alone and confused, does not teach
How to develop an attitude that commands
respect - love as noble aspiration and ideal,
joy and integrity has to be learned, love
does not derive from what we look upon
Love is a perspective, an ability to project
beautiful aspects on things - service does
not beget love and harmony; I cannot
accept the same emotional abuse
You are used to; I offer you my sisterly love
as affection, not exploitation - will spoil you
as a beloved sister, NOT as dependent or
helper, I love you because you are worthy
I honour your dignity and abhor it when
others don’t honour you also; I love you
within the perspective of a wonderful
sister just as you are…
[For Elreza]
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Corydon's Supplication To Phyllis
Sweet Phyllis, if a silly swain
May sue to thee for grace,
See not thy loving shepherd slain
With looking on thy face;
But think what power thou hast got
Upon my flock and me;
Thou seest they now regard me not,
But all do follow thee.
And if I have so far presumed,
With prying in thine eyes,
Yet let not comfort be consumed
That in thy pity lies;
But as thou art that Phyllis fair,
That fortune favour gives,
So let not love die in despair
That in thy favour lives.
The deer do browse upon the briar,
The birds do pick the cherries;
And will not Beauty grant Desire
One handful of her berries?
If it be so that thou hast sworn
That none shall look on thee,
Yet let me know thou dost not scorn
To cast a look on me.
But if thy beauty make thee proud,
Think then what is ordain'd;
The heavens have never yet allow'd
That love should be disdain'd.
Then lest the fates that favour love
Should curse thee for unkind,
Let me report for thy behoof,
The honour of thy mind;
Let Corydon with full consent
Set down what he hath seen,
That Phyllida with Love's content
Is sworn the shepherds' queen.
poem by Nicholas Breton
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Sonnet XXXV: The Lamp's Shrine
Sometimes I fain would find in thee some fault,
That I might love thee still in spite of it:
Yet how should our Lord Love curtail one whit
Thy perfect praise whom most he would exalt?
Alas! he can but make my heart's low vault
Even in men's sight unworthier, being lit
By thee, who thereby show'st more exquisite
Like fiery chrysoprase in deep basalt.
Yet will I nowise shrink; but at Love's shrine
Myself within the beams his brow doth dart
Will set the flashing jewel of thy heart
In that dull chamber where it deigns to shine:
For lo! in honour of thine excellencies
My heart takes pride to show how poor it is.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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It is forbidden to decry other sects the true believer gives honour to whatever in them is worthy of honour.
It is forbidden to decry other sects; the true believer gives honour to whatever in them is worthy of honour.
The Children Of The Lord
From the beginning, it was decreed
That love in itself does not create life.
For love, even in its own form of life,
Has no power to create anything new.
Love is not God, but God is love.
It is He alone who brings forth life.
The human soul is bonded to its body.
From the creation of life, it is eternal.
Even after death, the soul goes on.
It is no light thing for consideration.
We do our part and the Lord does His.
Not all are granted an inheritance.
Even the righteous have no guarantee.
Even the redeemed have no certainty.
But to those who receive a child,
God looks upon the hearts of men and women,
Knowing the future as well as the past.
To Him, no secrets are Hid from His eyes.
Blessed are the ones who find His favour,
Yet do not boast and offend others.
Rejoice in your inheritance from the Lord.
It is your portion, now and for eternity.
Yet know this, love is patient...
A child is a fragile thing and slow to learn.
To teach a child is a great honour.
To love a child is a noble joy.
Be proud only in God's teachings.
They were not given in vain,
Nor without the sacrifice of Christ.
Prepare each child for the journey of life.
For what lies ahead is no easy path.
Money is a small gift compared to time.
Pity the child who has money but little love.
The children of the Lord learn to pray.
May they bring healing to their parents' hearts.
May they honour them and respect them also.
May they help around the happy home.
For what is love but a helping hand?
And what is love without a faithful spirit?
The Lord of Heaven knows us deeply.
His patience and longsuffering seek perfection.
Search yourselves to see the faults within.
Strive not for a better world, but a better you.
For the Lord created children for His glory.
May they sing the holy hymns and praise Him.
Teach them of the Teacher, Jesus, the Son of God...
poem by Denis Martindale
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