0314 Executive Decision
‘Look! now briefly, mortal living head -
As severed from thy now so lifeless limbs
In brief and, who knows, truthful, godly view,
So solemn, oncely, rare - that fleshly instrument
That thou hath used, misused…
And learn this last of life’s live lessons, quick and dread
In these few seconds of a living death…’
So Dean John Donne might have wrung out
that detail, had he known it – tolled
his solemn, tortured, feargod, ringing knell
- had he but known this ‘metaphysical’ quaint fact:
that, when the executioner’s sharp axeblade
slices through your neck with such finality,
the head maintains its human faculties
for eight brief seconds after body falls;
the executioner, it’s said, with great formality, then
takes hold that still-life head by its warm hair,
and turns it round with all solemnity,
to gaze its last repentence or regret
upon its frail accomplice on life’s way;
the gathered audience awed to silent, ice-cold heart..
last freeze-frame photo of an undeveloped film.
This solemn final courtesy of soul to soul
I’ll leave to metaphysicals, to speak life whole.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Seconds
All day
Hiding from the sun
Waiting for the golden one
Waiting for your fame
After the parade has gone
Outside was a happy place
Every face had a smile like the golden face
For a second
Your knuckles white as your fingers curl
The shot that was heard around the world
For a second
It took seconds of your time to take his life
It took seconds
It took seconds of your time to take his life
It took seconds
It took seconds of your time to take his life
It took seconds of your time to take his life
Seconds
Seconds
It took seconds of your time to take his life
It took seconds
It took seconds of your time to take his life
It took seconds
For a second
It took seconds of your time to take his life
It took seconds
It took seconds of your time to take his life
It took seconds
For a second
It took seconds of your time to take his life
Seconds of your time to take his life
For a second
For a second
For a second
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Solemn Truth
It's a sad solemn truth
This sad solemn lie.
Just taken from our youth
Was it worth it to try?
We can precieve what we need.
If what we want doesn't get in our way.
But it always will, always will.
It's a sad solemn truth
This sad solemn life
Just taken from our world
Was it worth the strife?
We can precieve what's believed.
Or you can read into this solemn life
But you never will, never will...
poem by Moth Harris
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To The New-Born
A BLESSING on thy head, thou child of many hopes and fears!
A rainbow-welcome thine hath been, of mingled smiles and tears.
Thy father greets thee unto life, with a full and chasten'd heart,
For a solemn gift from God thou com'st, all precious as thou art!
I see thee not asleep, fair boy, upon thy mother's breast,
Yet well I know how guarded there shall be thy rosy rest;
And how her soul with love, and prayer, and gladness, will o'erflow,
While bending o'er thy soft-seal'd eyes, thou dear one, well I know!
A blessing on thy gentle head! and bless'd thou art in truth,
For a home where God is felt, awaits thy childhood and thy youth:
Around thee pure and holy thoughts shall dwell as light and air,
And steal unto thine heart, and wake the germs now folded there.
Smile on thy mother! while she feels that unto her is given,
In that young day-spring glance the pledge of a soul to rear for heaven!
Smile! and sweet peace be o'er thy sleep, joy o'er thy wakening shed!
Blessings and blessings evermore, fair boy! upon thy head.
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Nick Fluge, Cliff-diving in Acapulco
Flies love, swan-like across the sky
From rocky edge- a moment’s try:
With four limbs raised above the head,
And torso seeming, almost dead!
Taut muscles hold the skeleton
As if it’s frozen on the run,
Twenty-five meters high up in
The air, in total perfection.
Breath held in inspiration full,
The cliff-diver now plunges down
In perfect stance, as head first strikes
The surface waters of the sea.
The golden sun-set forms a veil
Of light of varied hues and shapes;
The diver’s body looking dark,
And touching down in three seconds!
What nerves of steel and stamina!
What acrobatics in the air!
What risks and fears of life and death
Pass through the minds, of those who dare!
Love plunges deep into the sea,
The diver coming up afree:
An act of seconds, masterly-
The world is held spell-bound truly!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-10-2008
poem by John Celes
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Marilyn
She lies
Upon her bed so still
unable to summon up the will
to get out and face the day
as time slowly slips away.
She shies
From the inevitability
not accepting reality.
For Death is approaching fast!
How much longer will she last?
Her eyes
Look around at the family
gathered so uneasily
as they gaze helplessly on
knowing she will soon be gone.
She tries
To fight for her very life
to remain there as his wife.
But she's unable to speak
and her body is so weak.
She sighs
Exhaling her final breath
and her body gives in to death.
The finality of death is felt
by her bedside as they knelt.
She dies
Breathing out lifes last breath
and succumbing to her death.
Lying there upon her bed
all motionless. She is dead.
She flies
Her soul to worlds unknown
and he's left there all alone.
Helplessly looking at her there
beyond the reach of his care.
He cries
Gazing upon her lifeless face
and holding her in his embrace.
Unable to prevent the flow
of his deep sobs of sorrow.
'Arise'
She is summoned before God
to account for the paths she'd trod.
Stands alone before Him there
as her life's deeds are laid bare.
Surprise
Our turn too will quickly come
when God shall call our soul home.
We too must pass through death
when we draw our final breath.
Be wise
Let's kiss God's Son while we may
to survive that judgement day
then through Jesus we'll be forgiven
and allowed to enter into heaven.
Suttee
LAMP of my life, the lips of Death
Hath blown thee out with their sudden breath;
Naught shall revive thy vanished spark . . .
Love, must I dwell in the living dark?
Tree of my life, Death's cruel foot
Hath crushed thee down to thy hidden root;
Nought shall restore thy glory fled . . .
Shall the blossom live when the tree is dead?
Life of my life, Death's bitter sword
Hath severed us like a broken word,
Rent us in twain who are but one . .
Shall the flesh survive when the soul is gone?
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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Voices Of The Night : A Psalm Of Life
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream! -
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Gonna Murder Myself
My sences have left me, they have gone on the run
Gonna buy me some bullets and a powerful gun
I'm a dark, dark shadow of my former self
Gonna use that gun and murder myself
Pulling that trigger will be so easy to do
I've nothing to live for now that I have lost you
You were the one who gave my soul energy
Kept me goin like a life long battery
But it may as well be you pointing that gun to my head
All was well in my life until I found you in bed
Not all alone but with my best mate
I have never before felt so much pain and hate
you've turned my piece of heven into a living hell
Gonna murder myself, I may as well
I'm now looking at the display in front of me
Chosen myself a firestar M-43
I've taken my pathetic life back to my home
I have never before felt so cold and alone
In a few seconds, I will be free
Here we go...1...2...3....
poem by Katherine Shaw
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The Psalm Of Life
What the heart of the young man said to the psalmist
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!--
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death
To the souls who live beneath our feet
To souls burdened by the dreadful dirt.
When I think of thee my heart beat
My soul to the ground, I feel thy hurt.
Through sympathy I think
Thou know the end of mirth
And life here and what it's worth
Please! speak to me so I may give birth
To thy anguish above on beautiful earth.
Me received no reply but a deep buried sigh…
For the leaden stone covers thy head
The squalid worms live in thy bed
I see thou drink from the roots of flowers
and thy see each one to its final hours.
As time passes
Slumber do thee too
Under the pure white snow
where frigid frost freezes thy bones
into an icy blue
I feel your pain can never move;
a pain no living soul can ever know….
Suddenly I hear a voice murmur from inside of me...
Thou speak quietly while we sleep in peace
And in our memories thou silent voices cease
Till we see a name carved on grave's cement stone
Thou souls beneath remain unknown
My Love reaches the depths of death's dark seat but my life lives upon my light feet... never again will I love, but always shall I live? I hope...
To the souls whom I love beneath my feet
May I tread softly and saunter sweetly as if life's a treat.
Till the death's knight comes again to ravenously eat
My flesh away, then only and then
I swear our souls shall meet again.....
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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A thought by the sea shore
"Even in our ashes live their wonted fires."
Bury me by the sea,
When on my heart the hand of Death is press'd.
If the soul lingers ere she join the bless'd,
And haunts awhile her clay,
Then 'mid the forest shades I would not lie,
For the green leaves, like me, would droop and die.
Nor 'mid the homes of men,
The haunts of busy life, would I be laid:
There ever was I lone, and my vexed shade
Would sleep unquiet then:
The surging tide of life might overwhelm
The shadowy boundaries of the silent realm.
No sculptured marble pile,
To bear my name, be reared upon my breast, --
Beneath its weight my free soul would not rest;
But let the blue sky smile,
The changeless stars look lovingly on me,
And let me sleep beside this sounding sea --
This ever-beating heart
Of the great Universe; here would the soul
Plume her soiled pinions for the final goal,
Ere she should thence depart, --
Here would she fit her for the high abode, --
Here, by the sea, she would be nearer God.
I feel His presence now,
Thou mightiest of his vassals, as I stand
And watch beside thee on the sparkling sand,
Thy crested billows bow;
And, as thy solemn chant swells through the air,
My spirit, awed, joins in thy ceaseless prayer.
Life's fitful fever o'er,
Here then would I repose, majestic sea;
E'en now faint glimpses of eternity
Come o'er me on thy shore:
My thoughts from thee to highest themes are given,
As thy deep distant blue is lost in Heaven.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Annunciation And Passion
TAMELY, frail body, abstain to-day ; to-day
My soul eats twice, Christ hither and away.
She sees Him man, so like God made in this,
That of them both a circle emblem is,
Whose first and last concur ; this doubtful day
Of feast or fast, Christ came, and went away ;
She sees Him nothing, twice at once, who's all ;
She sees a cedar plant itself, and fall ;
Her Maker put to making, and the head
Of life at once not yet alive, yet dead ;
She sees at once the Virgin Mother stay
Reclused at home, public at Golgotha ;
Sad and rejoiced she's seen at once, and seen
At almost fifty, and at scarce fifteen ;
At once a son is promised her, and gone ;
Gabriell gives Christ to her, He her to John ;
Not fully a mother, she's in orbity ;
At once receiver and the legacy.
All this, and all between, this day hath shown,
Th' abridgement of Christ's story, which makes one—
As in plain maps, the furthest west is east—
Of th' angels Ave, and Consummatum est.
How well the Church, God's Court of Faculties,
Deals, in sometimes, and seldom joining these.
As by the self-fix'd Pole we never do
Direct our course, but the next star thereto,
Which shows where th'other is, and which we say
—Because it strays not far—doth never stray,
So God by His Church, nearest to him, we know,
And stand firm, if we by her motion go.
His Spirit, as His fiery pillar, doth
Lead, and His Church, as cloud ; to one end both.
This Church by letting those days join, hath shown
Death and conception in mankind is one ;
Or 'twas in Him the same humility,
That He would be a man, and leave to be ;
Or as creation He hath made, as God,
With the last judgment but one period,
His imitating spouse would join in one
Manhood's extremes ; He shall come, He is gone ;
Or as though one blood drop, which thence did fall,
Accepted, would have served, He yet shed all,
So though the least of His pains, deeds, or words,
Would busy a life, she all this day affords.
This treasure then, in gross, my soul, uplay,
And in my life retail it every day.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dont Go & Put A Bullet In Your Head
Yeah,
(thank you jesus for the song)
Hey, hey hey hey...
Dont do it, dont do it
Dont go and put a bullet in your head
Just turn your life around instead
Dont go and put a bullet in your head
Im gonna get it
But workin nine to five just doesnt let it
I feel Im wastin time and I regret it
Cant even feed my kids and my wife
Oh Im longing to find it
A taste of the sweeter life oh my
Only takes a little time
( no dont do it )
Dont go and put a bullet in your head
Just turn your life around instead
Dont go and put a bullet in your head
Oh my oh my
Aint got no credit
Cant even pay my rent
Where will I get it ?
Theres a liquor store right down the block Ill get it
Cant even feed the pain in my heart
Oh Im longing to find
( Im longing to find )
A piece of the bigger pie, oh my
( a different kind )
Only it takes a little time
( a little time )
(no dont do it)
Dont go and put a bullet in your head
Just turn your life around instead
Dont go and put a bullet in your head
Oh my oh my oh my ...
Dont go and put a bullet in your head
Just turn your life around instead
Dont go and put a bullet in your head
Put a bullet in your head, oh my
Oh my, put a bullet in your head, oh my
Dont go and put a bullet in your head
Just turn your life around instead
Dont go and put a bullet in your head
Oh my, oh my oh my.
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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John Barleycorn
There were three men, came out of the west,
Their fortunes for to try
And these three men made a solemn vow:
John barleycorn must die!
Well, theyve ploughed, theyve sown, theve harrowed him in.
Threw clouds upon his head.
Till these three men were satisfied.
John barleycorn was dead.
Theyve let him lie for a long long time,
Till the rains from heaven did fall.
And little sir john sprang up his head
And so amazed them all.
They let him fly till the midsummers day,
Till he looked both pale and wan, oh,
Then little sir john has grown a long long beard
And so became a man.
They have hired men with the scythes so sharp.
To cut him off at the knee,
They rolled and they tied him around the waist,
Serving him most him barbarously.
They hired men with the sharp pitchforks
To prick him to the heart.
And the loader he has served him worse than that,
For hes bound him to the cart.
Well, theyve wheeled him round and round the field,
Till they came onto a barn.
And there they made their solemn oath,
Concerning a barleycorn.
They hired men with the crab tree sticks
To split him skin from bone, yeah,
But the miller he has served him worst and bad
For he ground him between two stones.
Well theres beer all in the barrel
And brandy in the glass,
But little old sir john with his nut-brown bowl
Proved the strongest man at last.
John barleycorn, throw him up, throw him up!
Now the huntsman, he cant hunt the fox,
Nor loudly blow his horn
And the tinker he cant mend his pots
Without john barleycorn,
John barleycorn, john barleycorn,
Barleycorn, barleycorn
John barleycorn, john barleycorn.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Which Comes First
when two people get married
is it a marriage of Body and Mind?
or is it a marriage of Heart and Soul?
and which one comes first?
SOMETHING TO PONDER!
what did i feel when i proposed?
my Body: told me that i ached for
the joining together, and sexual fulfillment.
my Mind: told me that i wanted to be
with her for the rest of my life.
my Heart: felt empty without her.
my Soul: soared to the highest height
to see all that could be given and achieved.
when i first saw you my Heart stood still
like on a roller coaster going down
and feeling the thrill.
and as that thrill rose, my Soul climbed high above
to show me this beautiful love.
this love so strong that it consumed my Body and Mind.
that it took me to 'the end of time'.
so for me which came first, as you can
plainly see, Heart and Soul was the one for me.
i give you my Heart- and all it contains
for without you, my life will never be the same.
i give you my Soul-for that is the other part
that i have to give
for without a Soul we can not live.
i give you my Mind- for your love to control
for it protects my Heart and Soul.
i give you my Body-
which is an empty shell
for without your love, i'm in living hell.
these are the four parts of this mere man
and i give it to you, for that's my plan.
i would take the human sufferings of
torture, pain and defeat
as long as i know your love i'll keep.
'YOU ARE LIFE' and all that it holds
Body, Mind, Heart and Soul.
take me as you would a breath of air
and my life with you i will share.
I THINK THE ANSWER THAT I HAVE GIVEN
SHOWS THAT LIFE IS WORTH LIVING.
poem by Louis Rams
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A Dialogue
I
DEATH, if thou wilt, fain would I plead with thee:
Canst thou not spare, of all our hopes have built,
One shelter where our spirits fain would be,
Death, if thou wit?
No dome with suns and dews impearled and gilt,
Imperial: but some roof of wildwood tree,
Too mean for sceptre's heft or swordblade's hilt.
Some low sweet roof where love might live, set free
From change and fear and dreams of grief or guilt;
Canst thou not leave life even thus much to see,
Death, if thou wilt?
II
Man, what art thou to speak and plead with me?
What knowest thou of my workings, where and how
What things I fashion? Nay, behold and see,
Man, what art thou?
Thy fruits of life, and blossoms of thy bough,
What are they but my seedlings? Earth and sea
Bear nought but when I breathe on it must bow.
Bow thou too down before me: though thou be
Great, all the pride shall fade from off thy brow,
When Time and strong Oblivion ask of thee,
Man, what art thou ?
III
Death, if thou be or be not, as was said,
Immortal; if thou make us nought, or we
Survive: thy power is made but of our dread,
Death, if thou be.
Thy might is made out of our fear of thee:
Who fears thee not, hath plucked from off thine head
The crown of cloud that darkens earth and sea.
Earth, sea, and sky, as rain or vapour shed,
Shall vanish; all the shows of them shall flee:
Then shall we know full surely, quick or dead,
Death, if thou be.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Can't Hear the Words
Written by: Wilfred Mellers, Wednesday, September 05,2001
There's another child that's lost their way
Living their life just for today
There's another youth that lives on the street
They have no shoes upon their feet
They've lost their youth and now they're old
Who will give them shelter from the cold?
The world is dieing there's no love
Waiting for intervention from above
Some can't hear the worlds just the song
Some can't remember where they belong
Some are just blinded by the light
Some has vision but lacking sight
Head over heels they are falling
They can't even hear that God is calling
Blinded by despair for no one cares
Just hold out your hands and he'll be there
There's another girl that has no home
Her stepfather won't leave her alone
Now she's decided to run away
Had to turn to prostitution to make her pay
She sole her soul, her mind, her body
She's living a life style not to healthy
She's got no hope for tomorrow
She's living a life of pure sorrow
There's another boy that got locked up
So he decides he's had enough
Can't find no work, no job, no pay
He turns to drugs to make it through the day
He said leave me alone I'm doing no harm
But look at the tracks upon his arms
Robbing and looting at the point of a knife
Last night someone finally took his life
Some can't hear the worlds just the song
Some can't remember where they belong
Some are just blinded by the light
Some has vision but lacking sight
Head over heels they are falling
They can't even hear that God is calling
Blinded by despair for no one cares
Just hold out your hands and he'll be there
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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John Barleycorn: A Ballad
There was three kings unto the east,
Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.
They took a plough and plough'd him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.
But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,
And show'rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris'd them all.
The sultry suns of Summer came,
And he grew thick and strong;
His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.
The sober Autumn enter'd mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Show'd he bagan to fail.
His colour sicken'd more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.
They've taen a weapon, long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
Then tied him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.
They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell'd him full sore;
They hung him up before the storm,
And turn'd him o'er and o'er.
They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim;
They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.
They laid him out upon the floor,
To work him further woe;
And still, as signs of life appear'd,
They toss'd him to and fro.
They wasted, o'er a scorching flame,
The marrow of his bones;
But a miller us'd him worst of all,
For he crush'd him between two stones.
And they hae taen his very heart's blood,
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.
John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise;
For if you do but taste his blood,
'Twill make your courage rise.
'Twill make a man forget his woe;
'Twill heighten all his joy;
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Tho' the tear were in her eye.
Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne'er fail in old Scotland!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dialog
I.
Death, if thou wilt, fain would I plead with thee:
Canst thou not spare, of all our hopes have built,
One shelter where our spirits fain would be,
Death, if thou wilt?
No dome with suns and dews impearled and gilt,
Imperial: but some roof of wildwood tree,
Too mean for sceptre's heft or swordblade's hilt.
Some low sweet roof where love might live, set free
From change and fear and dreams of grief or guilt;
Canst thou not leave life even thus much to see,
Death, if thou wilt?
II.
Man, what art thou to speak and plead with me?
What knowest thou of my workings, where and how
What things I fashion? Nay, behold and see,
Man, what art thou?
Thy fruits of life, and blossoms of thy bough,
What are they but my seedlings? Earth and sea
Bear nought but when I breathe on it must bow.
Bow thou too down before me: though thou be
Great, all the pride shall fade from off thy brow,
When Time and strong Oblivion ask of thee,
Man, what art thou?
III.
Death, if thou be or be not, as was said,
Immortal; if thou make us nought, or we
Survive: thy power is made but of our dread,
Death, if thou be.
Thy might is made out of our fear of thee:
Who fears thee not, hath plucked from off thine head
The crown of cloud that darkens earth and sea.
Earth, sea, and sky, as rain or vapour shed,
Shall vanish; all the shows of them shall flee:
Then shall we know full surely, quick or dead,
Death, if thou be.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good Night
1.
Love, thou hast wandered far and wide,
But here thy wanderings cease;
Thy long- sought mate is by thy side,
And thou canst sleep in peace.
2.
Night moans outside our window- pane,
And weeps from dripping eaves;
The air is thick with falling rain
Upon dead autumn leaves.
3.
The winds of winter rave and chafe
Around thy tranquil nest,
But I am here, and thou art safe —
Thy very soul may rest.
4.
The wild surf- thunder swells and falls
Upon the seething beach —
Thy world within thy chamber- walls
Nor winds nor waves can reach.
5.
Sleep, fired eyes! Sleep well, dear heart,
That ached so long for me!
No sudden hand shall tear apart
These arms that shelter thee
6.
Sleep well, though late- found joys be brief,
And bought with tears and pain;
Shut out the memory of thy grief —
Thou didst not grieve in vain.
7.
Think of our treasure, kept in store,
And not the price it cost —
Those precious years, that come no more,
Which thou and I have lost.
8.
O, wasted years, that lie behind
Hush — what is past is past.
Enough that we have lived to find
What life is worth at last.
9.
Though Fate has robbed us of so much,
We know not what we miss;
All ills are recompensed in such
A priceless good as this.
10.
Sleep,dear! The hours are passing on —
The midnight bells have tolled;
Think not how much of life is gone,
But how much more we hold.
11.
Yes, more — as wise men reckon life —
Though no wise man can tell
How soon, for husband and for wife,
The stroke of doom will knell.
12.
No echo of that solemn chime
Break through thy perfect peace!
No forecast of that awful time
When time for us will cease:
13.
When happier worlds shall shine in space,
For other eyes to see,
And none have any more a place
For thy true love and thee.
14.
Be blind to all, and deaf, and dumb,
In thy quick heart's despite!
Content thee — though the end must come,
It will not come to- night.
15.
This night let never thought of ill
Disturb thy slumber deep;
To- morrow I shall have thee still,
So thou canst safely sleep:
16.
Reprieved from that appalling fear,
As from thy long regret —
Be our last parting far or near,
We have not reached it yet.
17.
Thy head lies pillowed on my breast —
My cheek upon thy brow —
Dear love, good night! Thou art at rest
From Past and Future now.
poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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