Sonnet XVIII: To This Our World
To the Celestial Numbers
To this our world, to Learning, and to Heav'n,
Three Nines there are, to every one a Nine,
One number of the Earth, the other both divine;
One woman now makes three odd numbers ev'n.
Nine Orders first of Angels be in Heav'n,
Nine Muses do with Learning still frequent:
These with the Gods are ever resident;
Nine Worthy Women to the world were giv'n.
My Worthy One to these Nine Worthies addeth,
And my fair Muse one Muse unto the Nine,
And my good Angel, in my soul divine,
With one more Order these Nine Orders gladdeth;
My Muse, my Worthy, and my Angel then
Makes every One of these three Nines a Ten.
poem by Michael Drayton
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Related quotes
Worthy
you think you're not worthy
I'd have to say I agree
I'm not worthy of you
you're not worthy of me
which of us is deserving
look at the human race
the whole planet at arm's length
and we don't deserve this place
what good is a poker face
when you've got an open hand
I was supposed to be cool about this
yeah
I remember
cool was the plan
tried to keep it all under wraps
but the wraps kept going slack
I keep turning round
I keep coming back
give me a vertical
your horizontal line
I want to take each of them
bend them to divine
the world is too good for me
I am such a naughty girl
but when we're together
we're too good for this world
you think you're not worthy
I'd have to say I agree
I'm not worthy of you
you're not worthy of me
I'm not worthy of you
you aren't worthy of me...
song performed by by Ani DiFranco from Not A Pretty Girl
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Hymn to Humanity
I.
Lo! for this dark terrestrial ball
Forsakes his azure-paved hall
A prince of heav'nly birth!
Divine Humanity behold,
What wonders rise, what charms unfold
At his descent to earth!
II.
The bosoms of the great and good
With wonder and delight he view'd,
And fix'd his empire there:
Him, close compressing to his breast,
The sire of gods and men address'd,
"My son, my heav'nly fair!
III.
"Descend to earth, there place thy throne;
"To succour man's afflicted son
"Each human heart inspire:
"To act in bounties unconfin'd
"Enlarge the close contracted mind,
"And fill it with thy fire."
IV.
Quick as the word, with swift career
He wings his course from star to star,
And leaves the bright abode.
The Virtue did his charms impart;
Their G-----! then thy raptur'd heart
Perceiv'd the rushing God:
V.
For when thy pitying eye did see
The languid muse in low degree,
Then, then at thy desire
Descended the celestial nine;
O'er me methought they deign'd to shine,
And deign'd to string my lyre.
VI.
Can Afric's muse forgetful prove?
Or can such friendship fail to move
A tender human heart?
Immortal Friendship laurel-crown'd
The smiling Graces all surround
With ev'ry heav'nly Art.
poem by Phillis Wheatley
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Angel Number 444
Number comes in on my phone—
But I don't know if it's from a gnome.
Maybe an angel for the numbers show
The number 444.
The time of the call was the numbers above
Maybe sent by an angel or a secret dove.
So it gave me hope that I am still here—
My angels are everywhere.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on August 31,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Sonnet 38:
How can my muse want subject to invent,
While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse?
O! give thy self the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight;
For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thy self dost give invention light?
Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth
Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.
If my slight muse do please these curious days,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Knowledge Is Power
In the morning watch,
Into the midst of learning;
In the evening tide,
Out of the muse that muses;
A knowledge from a pavement made to achieve success,
Like the tune of a beautiful song.
Say it again,
Write it again,
Sing it again,
Play it again,
Come to ACTION SECONDARY TECHNICAL SCHOOL;
A learning environment with love and care.
I do remember, i do remember! !
Like the watchful minutes to the hour when,
I have this loving muse to all who want to learn.
Look!
Over there is ACTION SECONDARY TECHNICAL SCHOOL;
A place where knowledge gained is power to you!
I remember,
Like the open window;
With 'deep-green unifrom' to the vegetation.
Now i know,
'Knowledge is power'!
A peaceful atmosphere of love and care to share with you.
To learn,
To know,
Of a muse like rain drops;
With teachers dedicated to serve you all.
Go, tell it on the moutains;
A candle light from MADINA ESTATE where,
Knowledge is power.
Listen oh heavens,
Hear oh earth,
ACTION SECONDARY TECHNICAL SCHOOL is around you;
A place where knowledge is acquired through learning.
Of the 'grey-trousers' to the world so sweet,
A candle light of hope;
Of the muse that leads to love,
Like a pleasant wit at hand;
A timely success iy all that you need in life.
This is wher love is found,
This is where people learn to gain,
With hopeful years at school;
I remember,
I remember!
'Grey-trousers like grey hairs;
Where knoeledge abounds to the wise like,
The school itself.
Come to where ACTION SECONDARY TECHNICAL is,
Come to gain your knowledge as well;
Learning,
The day's fair face.
Say it again like,
ACTION SECONDARY TECHNICAL SCHOOL;
Like a muse to the world so sweet.
Write it again,
With love and care from the teachers;
Come to this atmosphere where,
Knowledge is power.
A learning place of joy,
To sing to it again and again;
With students and teachers to share their views in,
This royal place of knowledge.
This place of love and care,
This place of a muse that muses;
The day is done when,
You have gained your knowledge.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Sonnet 38: How can my Muse want subject to invent
How can my Muse want subject to invent
While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse?
O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight,
For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thyself dost give invention light?
Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth
Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.
If my slight Muse do please these curious days,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.
poem by William Shakespeare
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My Muse Is Free
I swim in the glimmers on the rivers muse
There I muse of love and love muse of me
In muse is ecstasy
my muse is free.
I lay by the brook, the muse's brook
And thirsty, I get up, to get a little drink
When I look, I see, I think
A beautiful Muse and my heart is shook
I dwell in a soul, a soulful muse
And to its harmony my soul withdrew
To the trumpets of muse the song of blue
My soul a muse, I always knew
I smell the odor, of muse's incense
In its torpor my body sleeps in my soul
And I smoke the smoke of muse intense
I laugh at myself amusingly droll
With my muse's nymphs we love in Hellas
Naked and free in the republic
Of beauty and art of love's Bellas
We love to we're entirely love sick.
My muse is free from the Devil's temptation
My Muse is free from God's judgment
My Muse is my only wordly nation
My Muse is a dream, I live, I lament
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Angel Number 444
Number comes in on my phone—
But I don't know if it's from a gnome.
Maybe an angel for the numbers show
The number 444.
The time of the call was the numbers above
Maybe sent by an angel or a secret dove.
So it gave me hope that I am still here—
My angels are everywhere.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on August 31,2012
www.suzae.com www.suechevalier.com
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Noah's Flood (excerpts)
Eternal and all-working God, which wast
Before the world, whose frame by Thee was cast,
And beautified with beamful lamps above,
By thy great wisdom set how they should move
To guide the seasons, equally to all,
Which come and go as they do rise and fall.
My mighty Maker, O do thou infuse
Such life and spirit into my labouring Muse,
That I may sing (what but from Noah thou hid'st)
The greatest thing that ever yet thou didst
Since the creation; that the world may see
The Muse is heavenly and deriv'd from Thee.
O let Thy glorious Angel which since kept
That gorgeous Eden, where once Adam slept,
When tempting Eve was taken from his side,
Let him great God not only be my guide,
But with his fiery faucheon still be nie,
To keep affliction far from me, that I
With a free soul thy wondrous works may show,
Then like that deluge shall my numbers flow,
Telling the state wherein the earth then stood,
The giant race, the universal flood.
...
poem by Michael Drayton
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Angus
Teaching and learning,
In the auditorium with the muse of love;
But the ongoing lectures are like the muse of peace,
And like Angus your friend who is now receiving treatment in the land of care.
Manpower,
Indicated,
Laboratory,
Enable,
Benefit,
Teaching and learning in the name of love! !
But let us always listen to the teacher around,
For the truth is like kindness, care, unity, peace and joy to meet up with your muse.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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On the Death of E. Waller, Esq.
How, to thy Sacred Memory, shall I bring
(Worthy thy Fame) a grateful Offering?
I, who by Toils of Sickness, am become
Almost as near as thou art to a Tomb?
While every soft, and every tender Strain
Is ruffl'd, and ill-natur'd grown with Pain.
But, at thy Name, my languisht Muse revives,
And a new Spark in the dull Ashes strives.
I hear thy tuneful Verse, thy Song Divine;
And am lnspir'd by every charming Line.
But, Oh! –––––––––
What Inspiration, at the second hand,
Can an Immortal Elegic Command?
Unless, Me Pious Offerings, mine should be
Made Sacred, being Consecrate to thee.
Eternal, as thy own Almighty Verse,
Should be those Trophies that adom thy Hearse.
The Thought Illustrious, and the Fancy Young;
The Wit Sublime, the Judgment Fine, and Strong;
Soft, as thy Notes to Sacharissa sung.
Whilst mine, like Transitory Flowers, decay,
That come to deck thy Tomb a short-liv'd Day.
Such Tributes are, like Tenures, only fit
To shew from whom we hold our Right to Wit.
Hafl, wondrous Bard, whose Heav'n-born Genius first
My Infant Muse, and Blooming Fancy Nurst.
With thy soft Food of Love I first began,
Then fed on nobler Panegyrick Strain,
Numbers Seraphic! and, at every View,
My Soul extended, and much larger grew:
Where e're I Read, new Raptures seiz'd my Blood;
Methought I heard the Language of a God.
Long did the untun'd World in Ignorance stray,
Producing nothing that was Great and Gay,
Till taught, by thee, the true Poetick way.
Rough were the Tracts before, Dull, and Obscure;
Nor Pleasure, nor Instruction could procure.
Their thoughtless Labour could no Passion move;
Sure, in that Age, the Poets knew not Love:
That Charming God, like Apparitions, then
Was only talk'd on, but ne're seen by Men:
Darkness was o're the Muses Land displaid,
And even the Chosen Tribe unguided straid.
Till, by thee rescu'd from th' Egyptian Night,
They now look up, and view the God of Light,
That taught them how to Love, and how to Write;
And to Enhance the Blessing which Heav'n lent,
When for our great Instructor thou wert sent.
Large was thy Life, but yet thy Glories more;
And, like the Sun, did still dispense thy Power,
Producing somthing wondrous every hour:
And, in thy Circulary Course, didst see
The very Life and Death of Poetry.
Thou saw'st the Generous Nine neglected lie,
None listning to their Heav'nly Harmony;
The World being grown to that low Ebb of Sense,
To disesteem the noblest Excellence;
And no Encouragement to Phophets shewn,
Who in past Ages got so great Renown.
Though Fortune Elevated thee above
Its scanty Gratitude, or fickle Love;
Yet, fallen with the World, untir'd by Age,
Scorning th'unthinking Crowd, thou quit'st the Stage.
poem by Aphra Behn
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To A Clergyman On The Death Of His Lady
WHERE contemplation finds her sacred spring,
Where heav'nly music makes the arches ring,
Where virtue reigns unsully'd and divine,
Where wisdom thron'd, and all the graces shine,
There sits thy spouse amidst the radiant throng,
While praise eternal warbles from her tongue;
There choirs angelic shout her welcome round,
With perfect bliss, and peerless glory crown'd.
While thy dear mate, to flesh no more confin'd,
Exults a blest, an heav n-ascended mind,
Say in thy breast shall floods of sorrow rise?
Say shall its torrents overwhelm thine eyes?
Amid the seats of heav'n a place is free,
And angels open their bright ranks for thee;
For thee they wait, and with expectant eye
Thy spouse leans downward from th' empyreal sky:
"O come away," her longing spirit cries,
"And share with me the raptures of the skies.
"Our bliss divine to mortals is unknown;
"Immortal life and glory are our own.
"There too may the dear pledges of our love
"Arrive, and taste with us the joys above;
"Attune the harp to more than mortal lays,
"And join with us the tribute of their praise
"To him, who dy'd stern justice to stone,
"And make eternal glory all our own.
"He in his death slew ours, and, as he rose,
"He crush'd the dire dominion of our foes;
"Vain were their hopes to put the God to flight,
"Chain us to hell, and bar the gates of light."
She spoke, and turn'd from mortal scenes her eyes,
Which beam'd celestial radiance o'er the skies.
Then thou dear man, no more with grief retire,
Let grief no longer damp devotion's fire,
But rise sublime, to equal bliss aspire,
Thy sighs no more be wafted by the wind,
No more complain, but be to heav'n resign'd
'Twas thine t' unfold the oracles divine,
To sooth our woes the task was also thine;
Now sorrow is incumbent on thy heart,
Permit the muse a cordial to impart;
Who can to thee their tend'rest aid refuse?
To dry thy tears how longs the heav'nly muse!
poem by Phillis Wheatley
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Seven Angels
Seven angels got my number
Since I fell in love with you
Seven angels got my number
Theyre all telling me what to do
First angel says go on and love her
Second angel says aint you tired of being alone?
Third angel says do the right thing, meat
Fourth angel says check that other little angel walkin on down the street
Seven angels got my number
Since I fell in love with you
Seven angels got my number
Theyre all telling me what to do
Fifth angel says, dont worry
Loves waitin round the corner for you, son
Sixth angel says you better hurry
It dont take long for the good to get gone
Walkin on wings all sexy and blue
Seventh angel says Im a fool
I got seven angels calling on my pride
Seven devils crawling around inside
Seven angels tellin me which way to turn
One kiss and my soul wanna burn
Seven angels got my number
Since I fell in love with you
Seven angels got my number
Theyre all telling me what to do
The earths so lonely, sad and blue
And without love, your souls dyin
Sixth angel says to believe you
When you say youll never leave me cryin
Seventh angel says youre lyin
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Numerical Tyranny
Who conspired
this needless need for
the numbers?
Now we all live in fear of
the numbers
tremble at the feet of
the numbers
live our lives according to the demands of
the numbers
Identify ourselves by
the numbers
we've sold ourselves short with
the numbers
locked ourselves in a cell with
the numbers
no one believes they can escape
the numbers
our status our worth
our health our happiness
all dictated by
the numbers
Who are you?
Are you just another
number?
For if only we could see the truth behind
the numbers:
the truth being
there is only one number
that number is one
and that one stretches on
through infinitude.
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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My Muse
Come, songwriters, present your best,
And earn a lovely woman's praise;
You singers come, let your voices
Be heard and used well to serve her:
And dance forth, you nymphs and angels;
Wonderful music for my Muse.
Her body is love's paradise,
There are no eyes as bright and true;
She is wiser than the poet,
And fairer than a comely queen:
Yes all perfections do combine
To beautify my mystic Muse.
She's Womans's choicest example,
Where honour, wisdom, wit and wile
Are all united in her heart.
The Graces claim her heritage:
All virtues that are most divine
Surely shine clearest in my Muse.
poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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Poetry Reading
To be a boxer, or not to be there
at all. O Muse, where are our teeming crowds?
Twelve people in the room, eight seats to spare
it's time to start this cultural affair.
Half came inside because it started raining,
the rest are relatives. O Muse.
The women here would love to rant and rave,
but that's for boxing. Here they must behave.
Dante's Infemo is ringside nowadays.
Likewise his Paradise. O Muse.
Oh, not to be a boxer but a poet,
one sentenced to hard shelleying for life,
for lack of muscles forced to show the world
the sonnet that may make the high-school reading lists
with luck. O Muse,
O bobtailed angel, Pegasus.
In the first row, a sweet old man's soft snore:
he dreams his wife's alive again. What's more,
she's making him that tart she used to bake.
Aflame, but carefully-don't burn his cake!
we start to read. O Muse.
poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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New Talents
Tracing my past,
Looking for my identity;
Walking into my mind,
Learning from others,
Living through life,
Writing for others
With my hopes and my dreams!
But, others want to see me in person.
This is my muse and this is my home,
Others want to understand my mind;
But, this world is like that at times!
With me walking into my mind to set the pace,
But, this race is not yet over.
Heading towards you,
With my mind as the keyboard for you to type your words;
But, my identity is what the people are asking for! !
However, i am who i am in a land on the West Coast of Africa.
Wars! ! Why are they killing each other?
Who created us?
Then, you can answer yourselves on this simple matter;
Because, we need peace everywhere on this earth than war!
This is my muse of love,
With words from my mind to lead you on;
This is my muse of care,
With words from my inner self to educate you;
However, new talents are born everyday into this world.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Love, The Soul Of Poetry
WHen first Alexis did in Verse delight,
His Muse in Low, but Graceful Numbers walk't,
And now and then a little Proudly stalk't;
But never aim'd at any noble Flight:
The Herds, the Groves, the gentle purling Streams,
Adorn'd his Song, and were his highest Theams.
But Love these Thoughts, like Mists, did soon disperse,
Enlarg'd his Fancy, and set free his Muse,
Biding him more Illustrious Subjects choose;
The Acts of Gods, and God-like Men reherse.
From thence new Raptures did his Breast inspire,
His scarce Warm-Heart converted was to Fire.
Th' exalted Poet rais'd by this new Flame,
With Vigor flys, where late he crept along,
And Acts Divine, in a Diviner Song,
Commits to the eternal Trompe of Fame.
And thus Alexis does prove Love to be,
As the Worlds Soul, the Soul of Poetry.
poem by Anne Killigrew
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Angel On My Shoulder
Written by natalie cole and richard marx
I never thought Id ever make it, I cant believe the hell Ive been through
Couldnt see the light at the end of the tunnel, I didnt know what to do
Ive been through the rain, Ive been through the fire
There was something that I never knew
Chorus
I had an angel on my shoulder, with a plan for me divine
Must be an angel on my shoulder, who was right there all the time
(angel, must be an angel) this world can be so cold and so heartless
Its hard to find your way alone, I used to run so fast, no one could catch me
I couldnt find the way back home, but Ive laughed, Ive cried
I almost died, but my broken heart just never knew
Chorus
I had an angel on my shoulder, with a plan for me divine
Got to be an angel on my shoulder, who was right there
Right there all the time, everybody needs someone to cling to
With an unchanging love, I finally found a hand to hold on to
A shelter to run to, now I see hes watching over me
Chorus
(angel on my shoulder, angel) Ive got an (angel on my shoulder)
Angel on my shoulder, with a plan for me divine
Got to be an (angel on my shoulder), angel on my shoulder
Who was right there, right there, right there all the time
Got to be an angel, an angel, an angel, right there all the time
song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mind Of A Poet
If horses could fly,
I could have been the first person in heaven;
But, here i am today as a bard.
If roses could smile,
I could have love all the woman in the world;
But, here i am today as a teacher.
If donkeys could teach,
I could have been the first Professor on earth;
But, here i am today with my mind.
All that muses teaches the world,
All that is lively makes me glad;
This is the mind of a poet unknown.
I am sitting next to you and,
I am seeing what you do;
Like the love of poetry.
I am the eye to many,
I am the mind of many,
The love of a muse is what i bring to you;
This is the mind of a poet unknown.
The love of poetry,
The love of a muse;
The mind of a poet to the world so sweet!
If horses could fly,
I could have been the first person in heaven.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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