Sonnet XXII: Love, Banish'd Heav'n
Love, banish'd Heav'n, on Earth was held in scorn,
Wand'ring abroad in need and beggary,
And wanting friends, though of a Goddess born,
Yet crav'd the alms of such as passed by.
I, like a man devout and charitable,
Clothed the naked, lodg'd this wand'ring guest,
With sighs and tears still furnishing his table
With what might make the miserable blest.
But this ungrateful, for my good desert,
Entic'd my thoughts against me to conspire,
Who gave consent to steal away my heart,
And set my breast, his lodging, on a fire.
Well, well, my friends, when beggars grow thus bold,
No marvel then though charity grow cold.
poem by Michael Drayton
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The Negro Boy
Paupertas onus visa est grave.
Cold blows the wind, and while the tear
Bursts trembling from my swollen eyes,
The rain's big drop, quick meets it there,
And on my naked bosom flies!
O pity, all ye sons of Joy,
The little wand'ring Negro-boy.
These tatter'd clothes, this ice-cold breast
By Winter harden'd into steel,
These eyes, that know not soothing rest,
But speak the half of what I feel!
Long, long, I never new one joy,
The little wand'ring Negro-boy!
Cannot the sigh of early grief
Move but one charitable mind?
Cannot one hand afford relief?
One Christian pity, and be kind?
Weep, weep, for thine was never joy,
O little wand'ring Negro-boy!
Is there a good which men call Pleasure?
O Ozmyn, would that it were thine!
Give me this only precious treasure;
How it would soften grief like mine!
Then Ozmyn might be call'd, with joy,
The little wand'ring Negro-boy!
My limbs these twelve long years have borne
The rage of ev'ry angry wind:
Yet still does Ozmyn weep and mourn,
Yet still no ease, no rest can find!
Then death, alas, must soon destroy
The little wand'ring Negro-boy!
No sorrow e'er disturbs the rest,
That dwells within the lonely grave;
Thou best resource, the wo-wrung breast
E'er ask'd of Heav'n, or Heav'n e'er gave!
Ah then, farewell, vain world, with joy
I die the happy Negro-boy!
poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
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Soil Service
Inspirit to up so fond
Fetch down that godly wand
Wave and wave so grand
Ring out well the cluttered mind
Over again, again wave the wand
Ring in afresh a soil a land
Set in liquid and gas to bind
Pattern dark and red well tilled
Sandy, loamy, yellow coloured
Grey, brown, black spread
Hill and river and wood
Up and down, side to side
Over again wave the wand
Vegetation and crops all to blend
Over again make rain-falls thundered
Forests and fields be pulsated
Again, again the waving wand
Volcanoes and oceans be befriended
And righteuous human be ever good
Geology, ecology reckoned and regarded
Again, again the waving wand
Food shelter clothe ever offered
Sylvan scene of prolificacy splendid
Stealthy, healthy life humanised
Again, again the magic wand
Not to wave but to hide
In the heart of the alert mind
A promise to conserve all that found
Again, again the promise be continued
For the soil a sacred servitude
Failed if one and all to mind
Impaired soil chucks the wand vanished
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Psalm 107 part 1
Israel led to Canaan, and Christians to heaven.
Give thanks to God; he reigns above;
Kind are his thoughts, his name is Love;
His mercy ages past have known,
And ages long to come shall own.
Let the redeemed of the Lord
The wonders of his grace record;
Isr'el, the nation whom he chose,
And rescued from their mighty foes.
[When God's almighty arm had broke
Their fetters and th' Egyptian yoke,
They traced the desert, wand'ring round
A wild and solitary ground.
There they could find no leading road,
Nor city for a fixed abode;
Nor food, nor fountain, to assuage
Their burning thirst or hunger's rage.]
In their distress, to God they cried
God was their Savior and their Guide;
He led their march far wand'ring round,
'Twas the right path to Canaan's ground.
Thus, when our first release we gain
From sin's old yoke, and Satan's chain,
We have this desert world to pass,
A dangerous and a tiresome place.
He feeds and clothes us all the way,
He guides our footsteps lest we stray,
He guards us with a powerful hand,
And brings us to the heav'nly land.
O let the saints with joy record
The truth and goodness of the Lord!
How great his works! how kind his ways!
Let every tongue pronounce his praise.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 143
Characters of the children of God. From several scriptures.
So new-born babes desire the breast,
To feed, and grow, and thrive;
So saints with joy the gospel taste,
And by the gospel live.
[With inward gust their heart approves
All that the word relates;
They love the men their Father loves,
And hate the works he hates.]
[Not all the flatt'ring baits on earth
Can make them slaves to lust;
They can't forget their heav'nly birth,
Nor grovel in the dust.
Not all the chains that tyrants use
Shall bind their souls to vice;
Faith, like a conqueror, can produce
A thousand victories.]
[Grace, like an uncorrupting seed,
Abides and reigns within;
Immortal principles forbid
The sons of God to sin.]
[Not by the terrors of a slave
Do they perform his will,
But with the noblest powers they have
His sweet commands fulfil.]
They find access at every hour
To God within the veil;
Hence they derive a quick'ning power,
And joys that never fail.
O happy souls! O glorious state
Of overflowing grace!
To dwell so near their Father's seat,
And see his lovely face!
Lord, I address thy heav'nly throne;
Call me a child of thine;
Send down the Spirit of thy Son
To form my heart divine.
There shed thy choicest loves abroad,
And make my comforts strong:
Then shall I say, "My Father God!"
With an unwav'ring tongue.
poem by Isaac Watts
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I Grow Old
i grow old, i grow old
i shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled
and steal from TS Eliot
thinking no-one knows
i grow old, i grow old
i shall cease to do what i am told
and stay in bed till sunset
when the weather gets too cold
i grow old, i grow old
i shall only wear my crumpled clothes
and look disdainfully at others
when they roll up their nose
i grow old, i grow old
i shall watch events unfold
and take a greater pleasure
in an elder statesman role.
i grow old, i grow old
i shall never play lawn bowls
and never will watch cricket
that's too boring for the soul.
i grow old, i grow old
but i shall never be so bold
as to admonish others
when my views they do not hold.
poem by David Keig
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Nepenthe
O BLEST unfabled Incense Tree,
That burns in glorious Araby,
With red scent chalicing the air,
Till earth-life grow Elysian there!
Half buried to her flaming breast
In this bright tree she makes her nest,
Hundred-sunned Phœnix! when she must
Crumble at length to hoary dust;
Her gorgeous death-bed, her rich pyre
Burnt up with aromatic fire;
Her urn, sight-high from spoiler men,
Her birthplace when self-born again.
The mountainless green wilds among,
Here ends she her unechoing song:
With amber tears and odorous sighs
Mourned by the desert where she dies.
poem by George Darley
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Sonnet to the Moon
The glitt'ring colours of the day are fled;
Come, melancholy orb! that dwell'st with night,
Come! and o'er earth thy wand'ring lustre shed,
Thy deepest shadow, and thy softest light;
To me congenial is the gloomy grove,
When with faint light the sloping uplands shine;
That gloom, those pensive rays alike I love,
Whose sadness seems in sympathy with mine!
But most for this, pale orb! thy beams are dear,
For this, benignant orb! I hail thee most:
That while I pour the unavailing tear,
And mourn that hope to me in youth is lost,
Thy light can visionary thoughts impart,
And lead the Muse to soothe a suff'ring heart.
poem by Helen Maria Williams
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Rich and Rare Were the Gems She Wore
Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore;
But oh! her beauty was far beyond
Her sparkling gems, or snow-white wand.
"Lady! dost thou not fear to stray,
So lone and lovely through this bleak way?
Are Erin's sons so good or so cold,
As not to be tempted by woman or gold?"
"Sir Knight! I feel not the least alarm,
No son of Erin will offer me harm: --
For though they love woman and golden store,
Sir Knight! they love honour and virtue more!"
On she went, and her maiden smile
In safety lighted her round the green isle;
And blest for ever is she who relied
Upon Erin's honour and Erin's pride.
poem by Thomas Moore
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Beneath A Mountain's Brow
"Beneath a mountain's brow, the most remote
And inaccessible by Shepherds trod,
In a deep cave, dug by no mortals hands
An Hermit lived,--a melancholy man
Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains:
Austere and lonely--cruel to himself
They did report him--the cold earth his bed,
Water his drink, his food the Shepherd's alms.
I went to see him, and my heart was touched
With reverence and pity. Mild he spake,
And entering on discourse, such stories told,
As made me oft re-visit his sad cell."
poem by John Trumbull
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V. To the River Tweed.
O TWEED! a stranger, that with wand'ring feet
O'er hill and dale has journey'd many a mile,
(If so his weary thoughts he might beguile)
Delighted turns thy beauteous scenes to greet.
The waving branches that romantick bend
O'er thy tall banks, a soothing charm bestow;
The murmurs of thy wand'ring wave below
Seem to his ear the pity of a friend.
Delightful stream! tho' now along thy shore,
When spring returns in all her wonted pride,
The shepherd's distant pipe is heard no more,
Yet here with pensive peace could I abide,
Far from the stormy world's tumultuous roar,
To muse upon thy banks at eventide.
poem by William Lisle Bowles
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Sonnet V. To the River Tweed.
O TWEED! a stranger, that with wand'ring feet
O'er hill and dale has journey'd many a mile,
(If so his weary thoughts he might beguile)
Delighted turns thy beauteous scenes to greet.
The waving branches that romantick bend
O'er thy tall banks, a soothing charm bestow;
The murmurs of thy wand'ring wave below
Seem to his ear the pity of a friend.
Delightful stream! tho' now along thy shore,
When spring returns in all her wonted pride,
The shepherd's distant pipe is heard no more,
Yet here with pensive peace could I abide,
Far from the stormy world's tumultuous roar,
To muse upon thy banks at eventide.
poem by William Lisle Bowles
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Ring Of Fire
love is a burning thing
and it makes a fiery ring
bound by the wild desire
hell I fell into a ring of fire
I fell into a burning ring of fire
I went down down down
the flames they went higher
and it burns burns burns
that ring of fire
that ring of fire
that ring of fire
the chase of love is sweet
when hearts like ours meet
I fell for you like a child
oh my heart went wild
I fell into a burning ring of fire
I went down down down
the flames they went higher
and it burns burns burns
that ring of fire
that ring of fire
that ring of fire
I fell into a burning ring of fire
I went down down down
the flames they went higher
and it burns burns burns
that ring of fire
that ring of fire
that ring of fire
I fell into a burning ring of fire
I went down down down
the flames they went higher
and it burns burns burns
that ring of fire
that ring of fire
that ring of fire
song performed by by H-BlockX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To The Head-Ach
THOU tyrant of the ling'ring hour!
Ah, why with me delight to rest?
Hence far away, tormenting pow'r
Unwelcome guest!
With thee, sad visitant! I prove
The long, the melancholy day;
Ah! foe to peace! from me remove,
Thy dreaded sway.
Oft when I'd court ideal themes,
'Tis then thy leaden wings o'erspread
That seat of wild, fantastic dreams,
My weary head.
And when in Fancy's fiery car,
With her and with the muse I'd fly;
To realms beyond the morning-star,
The earth and sky;
Not long in these illusions blest,
Through fairy-palaces I roam;
Thy wand recals, unwelcome guest!
My visions home.
Ah, foe to peace! When thou art nigh,
Farewell the dew-balm of repose;
Then slumber's fled—the languid eye
Forgets to close.
I ne'er my midnight vigils keep,
To ponder by the taper's light;
Nor waste in downy arms of sleep,
The morning bright.
'Tis mine to rove the hill, the dale,
To wander through embow'ring trees;
The soul of freshness to inhale,
The mountain-breeze.
Then, tyrant of the ling'ring hour,
Ah! why with me delight to rest?
Hence far away, tormenting pow'r,
Unwelcome guest!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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I Have Friends Who Can No Longer Walk
I have friends who can no longer walk
And a friend who can no longer listen to music
And friends who cannot leave the house
And two friends who will never leave the hospice
And friends no drug can completely take the pain from -
It is not good to see one's friends grow old
And become so much less than they were-
It is not good to see one's friends grow old and suffer
And be unable to help them in any real way
It is not good to be old
And see what happens to the people one knows
And wait for the inevitable to happen to oneself-
It is not good to be unable to help in any real way
The friends one cares for.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Happy Friendship-Day,2009
Let friends in life be few but firm;
Let all those few be thick and great;
Let friendship good last for life-time,
And be a satisfying one!
Let friends be precious and worthwhile;
Let friendship grow and stay ev’r-green;
Let friends become true role-models,
And guide our life on earth nobly!
Let friends hold us spell-bound in life;
Let friends share joys and grief as well;
Let friendship’s sway make us better,
And give us moments to be proud!
Let friends be part of earthly lives;
Let friendship stay a boon, not bane;
Let friends be inseparable,
And be like angel guardians dear!
Let friendship fill the world with love,
And dispel gloom and solitude;
Let friends be more than siblings born,
And make our life on earth fruitful!
Let friendship glue a hearty bond;
Let friends bring godliness in life;
Let friendliness perfume the world,
And make our earthly lives worthwhile!
Let love turn foes to be like friends;
Let friends make earth a paradise;
Let friendliness rule hearts and minds,
And fix our gaze to God above!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 8-1-2009
poem by John Celes
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Lord Buddha begged.
The society has more thieves than beggars.
In a way, beggars are better than thieves.
They beg but steal not and get but usurp not.
Mortgaging their ego, they are begging.
It is easy to steal but hard to beg.
Give or not, don’t treat beggars with contempt.
Do treat them at par while you give them alms.
Feel elated while you offer them alms.
While giving, dispel their humiliation.
Lord Buddha too led His life as a beggar.
19.10.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Your Kisses Are Charity
Last night you breathed the deepest sigh
Turned away with those gold cold cool eyes
You said wont you give me space to breathe
But my tears gave you confidence to leave
Now you say Im just too much for you
There are things youll never know
If you lie and cheat so easily
Ya better go, you better go
Go, go, go, you better go
All I know is how I feel
And my heart is always yours to steal
But you take and never give to me
Your kisses are charity
Your kisses are charity
Yesterday you were my brightest star
But even when youre near
I dont know where you are
I was wrong to show my weaker side
Now its much too late to cry, cry, cry
I was blind to put my trust in you
If you leave me, Ill fall apart
Did you plan to make a fool out of me
From the start, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
All I know is how I feel
And my heart was always yours to steal
But you take and never give to me
Your kisses are charity
Your kisses are charity
Now you say Im too much for you
There are things youll never know
If you lie and cheat so easily
Ya better go, you better go
Go, go, go, you better go
All I know is how I feel
And my heart was always yours to steal
But you take and never give to me
Your kisses are charity
You never give to me
All I know is how I feel
And my heart was always yours to steal
But you take but never give to me
Your kisses are charity
Your kisses are charity
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Christmas Carol
Welcome, sweet Christmas, blest be the morn
That Christ our Saviour was born!
Earth's Redeemer, to save us from all danger,
And, as the Holy Record tells, born in a manger.
Chorus --
Then ring, ring, Christmas bells,
Till your sweet music o'er the kingdom swells,
To warn the people to respect the morn
That Christ their Saviour was born.
The snow was on the ground when Christ was born,
And the Virgin Mary His mother felt very forlorn
As she lay in a horse's stall at a roadside inn,
Till Christ our Saviour was born to free us from sin.
Oh! think of the Virgin Mary as she lay
In a lowly stable on a bed of hay,
And angels watching O'er her till Christ was born,
Therefore all the people should respect Christmas morn.
The way to respect Christmas time
Is not by drinking whisky or wine,
But to sing praises to God on Christmas morn,
The time that Jesus Christ His Son was born;
Whom He sent into the world to save sinners from hell
And by believing in Him in heaven we'll dwell;
Then blest be the morn that Christ was born,
Who can save us from hell, death, and scorn.
Then he warned, and respect the Saviour dear,
And treat with less respect the New Year,
And respect always the blessed morn
That Christ our Saviour was born.
For each new morn to the Christian is dear,
As well as the morn of the New Year,
And he thanks God for the light of each new morn.
Especially the morn that Christ was born.
Therefore, good people, be warned in time,
And on Christmas morn don't get drunk with wine
But praise God above on Christmas morn,
Who sent His Son to save us from hell and scorn.
There the heavenly babe He lay
In a stall among a lot of hay,
While the Angel Host by Bethlehem
Sang a beautiful and heavenly anthem.
Christmas time ought to be held most dear,
Much more so than the New Year,
Because that's the time that Christ was born,
Therefore respect Christmas morn.
And let the rich be kind to the poor,
And think of the hardships they do endure,
Who are neither clothed nor fed,
And Many without a blanket to their bed.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Old Friends
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
Saw you walk into the club last night
Could not even believe what I was seein
How do I even stop thinkin of you?
cause in my eyes youre still mine
Nobody told me I would feel like this
Wanting you more as the years walk on by
Now Im not afraid to say what i, I believe
But I wish you were my wife
My old friend
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(my old friend)
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
First time we met so cool, cool I never knew
You would become so closely to my heart
And now when I look back, girl I was so blessed
The rest never passed the test
Im choosy when it comes to newfound friends
And I wish they could be so smooth
(just like you)
And you never sweated me girl that was so tight
You were an angel in my life, oh, if
(I knew then)
What I know now
(what I know now)
Oh, yeah
(you wouldnt be with him)
You would be here
(youd be here with me)
My old friend
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(my old friend)
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(spoken-ralph):
Wow
Wish I only knew
What I know now
Im sorry baby
(my old friend)
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(old friends)
Old friends
Are the best friends
(are the best friends)
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(what I wanna do, what I wanna say)
Old friends
Are the best friends
(I cant believe I have to leave without ya, baby, baby, baby)
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(yeah)
Old friends
(sometimes, sometimes I get so lonely, so lonely, so lonely girl)
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(old friends)
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(my old friend)
Old friends
Are the best friends
(are the best friends)
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(my old friend)
song performed by by New Edition
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hymn: Thou Hidden Love of God
Thou hidden love of God, whose height,
Whose depth unfathom'd no man knows,
I see from far thy beauteous light,
Inly I sigh for thy repose;
My heart is pain'd, nor can it be
At rest, till it finds rest in thee.
Thy secret voice invites me still,
The sweetness of thy yoke to prove:
And fain I would: but tho' my will
Seem fix'd, yet wide my passions rove;
Yet hindrances strew all the way;
I aim at thee, yet from thee stray.
'Tis mercy all, that thou hast brought
My mind to seek her peace in thee;
Yet while I seek, but find thee not,
No peace my wand'ring soul shall see;
O when shall all my wand'rings end,
And all my steps to thee-ward tend!
Is there a thing beneath the sun
That strives with thee my heart to share?
Ah! tear it thence, and reign alone,
The Lord of ev'ry motion there;
Then shall my heart from earth be free,
When it hath found repose in thee.
O hide this self from me, that I
No more, but Christ in me may live;
My vile affections crucify,
Nor let one darling lust survive;
In all things nothing may I see,
Nothing desire or seek but thee.
O Love, thy sov'reign aid impart,
To save me from low-thoughted care:
Chase this self-will thro' all my heart,
Thro' all its latent mazes there:
Make me thy duteous child, that I
Ceaseless may Abba, Father, cry!
Ah no! ne'er will I backward turn:
Thine wholly, thine alone I am!
Thrice happy he who views with scorn
Earth's toys, for thee his constant flame;
O help that I may never move
From the blest footsteps of thy love!
Each moment draw from earth away
My heart that lowly waits thy call:
Speak to my inmost soul, and say,
I am thy love, thy God, thy all!
To feel thy power, to hear thy voice,
To taste thy love, be all my choice.
poem by John Wesley
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