Songs Set To Music: 27.
Haste, my Nannette,
My lovely maid,
Haste to the bower
Thy swain has made.
For thee alone
I made the bower,
And strew'd the couch
With many a flower.
None but my sheep
Shall near us come;
Venus be praised
My sheep are dumb.
Great god of love
Take thou my crook,
To keep the wolf
From Nannette's flock.
Guard thou the sheep
To her so dear;
My own, alas!
Are less my care.
But of the wolf
If thou'rt afraid,
Come not to us
To call for aid;
For with her swain
My love shall stay,
Though the wolf stroll
And the sheep stray.
poem by Matthew Prior
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Shepherd's Dream
A silly shepherd lately sat
Among a flock of sheep;
Where musing long on this and that,
At last he fell asleep.
And in the slumber as he lay,
He gave a piteous groan;
He thought his sheep were run away,
And he was left alone.
He whoop'd, he whistled, and he call'd,
But not a sheep came near him;
Which made the shepherd sore appall'd
To see that none would hear him.
But as the swain amazèd stood,
In this most solemn vein,
Came Phyllida forth of the wood,
And stood before the swain.
Whom when the shepherd did behold
He straight began to weep,
And at the heart he grew a-cold,
To think upon his sheep.
For well he knew, where came the queen,
The shepherd durst not stay:
And where that he durst not be seen,
The sheep must needs away.
To ask her if she saw his flock,
Might happen patience move,
And have an answer with a mock,
That such demanders prove.
Yet for because he saw her come
Alone out of the wood,
He thought he would not stand as dumb,
When speech might do him good;
And therefore falling on his knees,
To ask but for his sheep,
He did awake, and so did leese
The honour of his sleep.
poem by Nicholas Breton
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Feeding The Wolf
there is this fight
between the wolf and
the sheep inside the
hearts of every man
there is this man who
feeds the wolf everyday
and so inside him the
wolf wins, and then
one night the wolf
who is always hungry ate
the weak sheep and then
finally the man.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sheep
Sometimes I get so angry with the simple life they lead
The shepherds smile seems to confirm my fears
Theyve never questioned anything, theyve never disagreed
Sometimes I think they must have wool in their ears
And when you see a can I see a crook
And when you see a crowd I see a flock
Its sheep were up against
Sheep were up against
When I was young they used to get me counting sheep
But the counting I did was all in vain
No when Im tired and Im trying to get to sleep
I count humans jumping onto trains
And when you see a can I see a crook
And when you see a crowd I see a flock
Its sheep were up against
Sheep were up against
[influential guitar break]
And when you see a can I see a crook
And when you see a crowd I see a flock
Its sheep were up against
Sheep were up against
song performed by by Housemartins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The shepherd drives the wolf from the sheep's for which the sheep thanks the shepherd as his liberator, while the wolf denounces him for the same act as the destroyer of liberty. Plainly, the sheep and the wolf are not agreed upon a definition of liberty.
quote by Abraham Lincoln
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: The Good Shepherd Protects All His Sheep
From everything unholy satan does,
The Master of the creation, God will
Find out the ways to protect His righteous
From all effects that are adverse and ill!
For, God is our Care-taker, Good Shepherd,
And won't allow the wolf to steal his sheep,
Who listen to His call and every word,
And protect them from falling down the deep.
The sheep will know the wolf in lamb-skin fast,
And run for cover to the shepherd near,
Who with his wisdom of the present, past,
Instills self-confidence, removes all fear!
The Good Shepherd knows every sheep by name,
And knows the wolf's designs and every game!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 23-07-12
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Prayer At Night
Lord, for the one who dies alone
This night without companion,
I cannot rest, I cannot sleep.
O shepherd of the piteous sheep
Run with Thy crook, and lift in haste
The poor head to Thy loving breast.
Oh slake his deadly thirst from streams
Of Paradise, and give him dreams
Of the mild weather, the green sward.
Bind up his bitter wounds, O Lord,
And give him comfort. Let him know
His Shepherd 'tis that loves him so.
Thou countest Thy flock: not one is lost
But Thou goest seeking, for Thou knowest
The poor things creep away to die
Where none shall find save Thou art nigh.
Thou tak'st them to Thy arms, Thy knees,
And Thy sick lambs have sweetest ease.
Now I shall close my eyes in sleep,
Nor fret since they are Thine to keep,
Oh, happy sheep, to have such care,
The poorest, Love's own prisoner,
Who comforts as his mother might,
Rocking him into sleep at night.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Poor wolf died of starvation!
A good-hearted gentleman
saved the sheep from the wolf,
People praised him for saving a life,
Alas! Poor wolf died of starvation!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 32
Having become tired of my friends in Damascus, I went into the desert of Jerusalem and associated with animals till the time when I became a prisoner of the Franks, who put me to work with infidels in digging the earth of a moat in Tarapolis, when one of the chiefs of Aleppo, with whom I had formerly been acquainted, recognized me and said: ‘What state is this?’ I recited:
‘I fled from men to mountain and desert
Wishing to attend upon no one but God.
Imagine what my state at present is
When I must be satisfied in a stable of wretches.
The feet in chains with friends
Is better than to be with strangers in a garden.’
He took pity on my state and ransomed me for ten dinars from the captivity of the Franks, taking me to Aleppo where he had a daughter and married me to her with a dowry of one hundred dinars. After some time had elapsed, she turned out to be ill-humoured, quarrelsome, disobedient, abusive in her tongue and embittering my life:
A bad wife in a good man’s house
Is his hell in this world already.
Alas for a bad consort, alas!
Preserve us, O Lord from the punishment of fire.
Once she lengthened her tongue of reproach and said: ‘Art thou not the man whom my father purchased from the Franks for ten dinars?’ I replied: ‘Yes, he bought me for ten dinars and sold me into thy hands for one hundred dinars.’
I heard that a sheep had by a great man
Been rescued from the jaws and the power of a wolf.
In the evening he stroked her throat with a knife
Whereon the soul of the sheep complained thus:
'Thou hast snatched me away from the claws of a wolf,
But at last I see thou art thyself a wolf.’
Join the community: the wolf snatches only the stray sheep that wanders off from the flock.
The True Encounter
"Wolf!" cried my cunning heart
At every sheep it spied,
And roused the countryside.
"Wolf! Wolf!"—and up would start
Good neighbours, bringing spade
And pitchfork to my aid.
At length my cry was known:
Therein lay my release.
I met the wolf alone
And was devoured in peace.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Pigs, Sheep And Wolves
Bit and fat
Pigs supposed to look like that
Barnyard thug
Sleep on straw and calls it a rug
Yeah thats a rug, ok
Hes walking down the street
And nobodys going to argue with him
Hes a half-a-ton of pig meat
Up in the hills above the farm
Lives a pack of wolves
Never did a harm
Sleep all day
Hunt till four
Maybe catch a couple of rodents
You know carnivore
Sheep in the meadow
Nibbling on some clover
One of the sheep wanders over
Sits by a rock
Separated from the flock
Hes just sitting by a rock
Whered he go?
I dont know
Well he was here a minute ago
I dont know
Sheeps dead
Got a gash as big as a wolfs head
Oh god
Big and fat
Pigs supposed to look like that
Wallowing in lanolin
Hes rubbing it into his pigskin
Police going crazy
Lets get him
Lets get that wolf
Lets get him
Lets get that wolf
Lets get him
Lets kill him, Lets get him
Lets kill him
Court-appointed lawyer wasnt very bright
Or maybe he was bright
Maybe he just had a late night
Yeah it was just a late night
And he files some feeble appeal
And the governor says forget it
Its a done deal
Election, I dont care, election
Lets give that wolf a lethal injection
Lets get him, yeah get him
Lets kill him, Lets get him
Lets kill him, Lets get him,kill him
Lets get him and kill him
Whew, slow
Here comes the media
Setting up their camera
Asking everyones opinion
About pigs, sheep and wolves
Big and fat
Pigs supposed to laugh like that
This is hilarious
What a great time
Im the pig who committed
The perfect crime
All around the world
France, Scandinavia
Theres a candle light vigils
Protesting this behavior
Its animal behavior
Animal behavior
Its Pig, sheep and wolves
Pig, sheep and wolves
Pig, sheep and wolves
Its animal behavior
Pig, sheep and wolves
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pigs, Sheep & Wolves
Words & music by paul simon
Big and fat
Pigs supposed to look like that
Barnyard thug
Sleeps on straw and calls it a rug
Yeah thats a rug, ok
Ses walking down the street
And nobodys gonna argue with him
Hes a half-a-ton of pig meat
Up in the hills above the farm
Lives a pack of wolves
Never did no harm
Sleep all day
Hunt till four
Maybe catch a couple of rodents
You know carnivore
Sheep in the meadow
Nibbling on some clover
One of the sheep wanders over
Sits by a rock
Separated from the flock
Hes just sitting by a rock
Whered he go? dont know
Well he was here a minute ago
I dont know
Sheeps dead
Got a gash as big as a wolfs head
Oh god
Big and fat
Pigs supposed to look like that
Wallowing in lanolin
Hes rubbing it into his pigskin
Police going crazy
Lets get him
Lets get that wolf
Lets get him
Lets get that wolf
Lets get him
Lets kill him, lets get him
Lets kill him
Court-appointed lawyer wasnt very bright
Oh maybe he was bright
Maybe he just had a late night
Yeah it was just a late night
And he files some feeble appeal
And the governor says forget it
Its a done deal
Election, I dont care, election
Lets give that wolf a lethal iniection
Lets get him, yeah get him,
Lets kill him, lets get him
Lets kill him, lets get him, kill him
Lets get him and kill him
Whew, slow
Here comes the media
Setting up their camera
Asking everyones opinion
About pigs, sheep and wolves
Big and fat
Pigs supposed to laugh like that
This is hilarious
What a great time
Im the pig who committed
The perfect crime
All around the world
France, scandinavia
Theres candle light vigils
Protesting this behavior
It s animal behavior
Animal behavior
Its pigs, sheep and wolves
Pigs, sheep and wolves
Pigs, sheep and wolves
Its animal behavior
Its pigs, sheep and wolves
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shepherd
The shepherd goads his sheep by staff,
And leads them on to pastures green,
Instructing them to watch for wolves
That come in sheep-skin, in their midst!
The shepherd knows each sheep by name,
And calls them sweetly when they stray,
Or when they near the ledge atop
A valley deep or hill-side steep!
The sheep too know their shepherd's call,
And graze on meadows, keeping near;
They know he is their protector,
And will save them at any cost!
How safe it is when shepherd's near!
No sheep can ever lose its way;
The shepherd takes care of the flock,
But cannot bear to see one, lost!
Dedicated to Rev. Fr. Xavier Claudius, Parish Priest,
Holy Family Church, Perundurai, by his beloved parishioners
Copyright by Dr John Celes 31-05-2012
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rose
I.
Sweet serene skye-like Flower,
Haste to adorn her Bower :
From thy long clowdy bed,
Shoot forth thy damaske head.
II.
New-startled blush of Flora !
The griefe of pale Aurora,
Who will contest no more ;
Haste, haste, to strowe her floore.
III.
Vermilion Ball that's given
From lip to lip in Heaven ;
Love's Couches cover-led :
Haste, haste, to make her bed.
IV.
Dear Offspring of pleas'd Venus,
And Jollie, plumpe Silenus ;
Haste, haste, to decke the Haire
Of th' only, sweetly Faire.
V.
See ! Rosie is her Bower,
Her floore is all this Flower ;
Her Bed a Rosie nest
By a Bed of Roses prest.
VI.
But early as she dresses,
Why fly you her bright Tresses ?
Ah ! I have found I feare ;
Because her Cheekes are neere.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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The sheep separated from the flock is eaten by the wolf.
In a distant land many years ago, there lived a black sheep. It was executed by firing squad. A century later, the grieving flock erected an equestrian statue in honor of the slain sheep that looked very nice in the park. In the years that followed, every time a black sheep appeared, it was executed so that ordinary sheep could practice sculpture.
Augusto Monterroso in The Black Sheep and Other Fables (1969)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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First and Last
Thy "little lamb" once more!
My Lord, my life, my rest,
Borne in thine arms the wide world o'er,
A lamb upon thy breast.
Thy sheep across the waste
Were wandering far and wide,
And after them my heart would baste
To bring them to thy side.
Thy lambs were weak and faint,
I could but give my best;
Feebly I sought to still the plaint,
And bear them on my breast.
Great Shepherd of the sheep!
The sheep are thine, not mine!
Thou thy great flock wilt surely keep,
And each one lamb of thine.
Ever, the wide waste o'er,
A lamb upon thy breast!
Thy lost thou seekest evermore,
I seek, with thee, and rest.
A lamb upon thy breast,
Still learning what thou art, -
Our Lord, our life, our strength, our rest!
Borne on thy changeless heart.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Thy "little lamb" once more
My Lord, my life, my rest;
Borne in thine arms the dark flood o'er,
A lamb upon thy breast!
poem by Elizabeth Rundle Charles from Littell's Living Age, Volume 143, Issue 1842
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To Lucasta. The Rose.
I.
Sweet serene skye-like flower,
Haste to adorn her bower;
From thy long clowdy bed
Shoot forth thy damaske head.
II.
New-startled blush of FLORA!
The griefe of pale AURORA,
Who will contest no more,
Haste, haste, to strowe her floore.
III.
Vermilion ball, that's given
From lip to lip in Heaven;
Loves couches cover-led,
Haste, haste, to make her bed.
IV.
Dear offspring of pleas'd VENUS,
And jollie plumpe SILENUS;
Haste, haste, to decke the haire,
Of th' only sweetly faire.
V.
See! rosie is her bower,
Her floore is all this flower;
Her bed a rosie nest
By a bed of roses prest.
VI.
But early as she dresses,
Why fly you her bright tresses?
Ah! I have found, I feare;
Because her cheekes are neere.
poem by Richard Lovelace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Lucasta, the Rose
I.
Sweet serene skye-like flower,
Haste to adorn her bower;
From thy long clowdy bed
Shoot forth thy damaske head.
II.
New-startled blush of Flora!
The griefe of pale Aurora,
Who will contest no more,
Haste, haste, to strowe her floore.
III.
Vermilion ball, that's given
From lip to lip in Heaven;
Loves couches cover-led,
Haste, haste, to make her bed.
IV.
Dear offspring of pleas'd Venus,
And jollie plumpe Silenus;
Haste, haste, to decke the haire,
Of th' only sweetly faire.
V.
See! rosie is her bower,
Her floore is all this flower;
Her bed a rosie nest
By a bed of roses prest.
VI.
But early as she dresses,
Why fly you her bright tresses?
Ah! I have found, I feare;
Because her cheekes are neere.
poem by Richard Lovelace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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