To-morrow
Where art thou, beloved To-morrow?
When young and old, and strong and weak,
Rich and poor, through joy and sorrow,
Thy sweet smiles we ever seek,--
In thy place--ah! well-a-day!
We find the thing we fled--To-day.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Draxy's Hymn
I cannot think but God must know
About the thing I long for so;
I know He is so good, so kind,
I cannot think but He will find
Some way to help, some way to show
Me to the thing I long for so.
I stretch my hand-it lies so near:
It looks so sweet, it looks so dear.
'Dear Lord,' I pray, 'Oh, let me know
If it is wrong to want it so?'
He only smiles-He does not speak:
My heart grows weaker and more weak,
With looking at the thing so dear,
Which lies so far, and yet so near.
Now, Lord, I leave at thy loved feet
This thing which looks so near, so sweet;
I will not seek, I will not long-
almost fear I have been wrong.
I'll go, and work the harder, Lord,
And wait till by some loud, clear word
Thou callest me to thy loved feet,
To take this thing so dear, so sweet.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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The Very Thing That Makes You Rich
My father told me, lying on his bed of death,
"boy," he says, "woman she's gonna make it, don't fool your self
'cause she's got something to make a man lay that money, uh, right in her hand
And the very thing that makes her rich will make you poor
The very thing that makes her rich will make you poor"
That's right!
Well, i put you behind the wheel of a deuce and a quarter, yes i did
Had you living like a rich man's daughter, yes i did, i sure did
While you were living high on the hog
You had me down here scuffling like a dog
Well, the very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Don't you never ever make such a bad mistake
You know i'd rather climb into bed with a rattlesnake
Then to work hard every day bringing that woman all my pay
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor,
Makes me so damn poor
The thing that makes her rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich make me poor
Very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Makes me so damned poor
Money won't change it, no no...
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dost Thou Not Care?
I love and love not: Lord, it breaks my heart
To love and not to love.
Thou veiled within Thy glory, gone apart
Into Thy shrine, which is above,
Dost Thou not love me, Lord, or care
For this mine ill?—
I love thee here or there,
I will accept thy broken heart, lie still.
Lord, it was well with me in time gone by
That cometh not again,
When I was fresh and cheerful, who but I?
I fresh, I cheerful: worn with pain
Now, out of sight and out of heart;
O Lord, how long?—
I watch thee as thou art,
I will accept thy fainting heart, be strong.
'Lie still,' 'be strong,' to-day; but, Lord, to-morrow,
What of to-morrow, Lord?
Shall there be rest from toil, be truce from sorrow,
Be living green upon the sward
Now but a barren grave to me,
Be joy for sorrow?—
Did I not die for thee?
Did I not live for thee? Leave Me to-morrow.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Strong May Be Weak
When sorrow stabs a mind,
There’s so much it can find.
The strong may be the weak,
Hiding behind a façade they seek
To appear to be powerful
By causing others to be sorrowful.
Their weapons of hate and attack
Will only ricochet back
Further wounding their weakened mind
While forcing others farther behind.
Their weakness will start to fade
The moment in sorrow they’re not afraid
To view tenderness as something strong
And being a bully as always wrong.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Envoy
Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play;
Go, children of swift joy and tardy sorrow:
And some are sung, and that was yesterday,
And some unsung, and that may be to-morrow.
Go forth; and if it be o'er stony way,
Old joy can lend what newer grief must borrow:
And it was sweet, and that was yesterday,
And sweet is sweet, though purchas-ed with sorrow.
Go, songs, and come not back from your far way:
And if men ask you why ye smile and sorrow,
Tell them ye grieve, for your hearts know To-day,
Tell them ye smile, for your eyes know To-morrow.
poem by Francis Thompson
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Upon The Bee
The bee goes out, and honey home doth bring,
And some who seek that honey find a sting.
Now would'st thou have the honey, and be free
From stinging, in the first place kill the bee.
Comparison.
This bee an emblem truly is of sin,
Whose sweet, unto a many, death hath been.
Now would'st have sweet from sin and yet not die,
Do thou it, in the first place, mortify.
poem by John Bunyan
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A Man of Words
To some a seeker, to others a fool.
A rich man, a winner,
a poor man, a king.
A writer, a scholar,
a criminal, a cop.
To all whose boundaries like somewhere,
a fool you are not.
A centurion of words,
a seeker of truth,
and the word man writes what he sees.
Fools prey upon the conscience of others.
Rich see to rule and conquer,
while the poor beg their way through.
Criminals steal their goals,
but a writer writes his dreams away.
Puritans seek to purify,
criminals seek to steal.
Rich men seek to be richer,
Poor men seek to survive.
Writers seek to homage,
only stories to unfold.
poem by David Harris
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Poor Folks Town
The work is hard and the hours are long
The money aint much but we get along
Were rich in things can give
That cant be bought with a dollar bill
So, come on down
Have a look around
Rich folks livin in a poor folks town
We got no money but were rich in love
Thats one thing that weve got a-plenty of
So come on down have a look around
At rich folks livin in a poor folks town
We got no carpets on the floor
Weve got wall to wall love
Who could ask for more
We got no big fine things to show
Just a place to watch our children grow
We got no big fine fancy car to drive
And no fancy clothes to keep in style
What weve got were payin on
But its mostly love that were livin on
So, come on down
Have a look around
Rich folks livin in a poor folks town
We got no money but were rich in love
Thats one thing that weve got a-plenty of
So come on down have a look around
At rich folks livin in a poor folks town
Weve got a little simple church nearby
And the promise of a mansion in the sky
A heart of gold a million dollar smile
And a one way ticket to paradise
So, come on down
Have a look around
Rich folks livin in a poor folks town
We got no money but were rich in love
Thats one thing that weve got a-plenty of
So come on down have a look around
At rich folks livin in a poor folks town
So, come on down
Have a look around
Rich folks livin in a poor folks town
We got no money but were rich in love
Thats one thing that weve got a-plenty of
So come on down have a look around
At rich folks livin in a poor folks town
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the spirit of Rumi - 26
To My Beloved I said
‘When I am away from you, O Beloved,
out in the market place of this world,
I remember that I have forgotten
one thing – but cannot remember
what it can be…’
My Beloved said
Is it yourself?
‘It is of myself, yet
it is not myself..’
‘Is it Myself? ’
‘It is of Yourself, yet
it is not Yourself..’
‘Then it must be that one thing
which is most precious to you:
that for which your life was bought in the market place
at the price of a great jewel,
which is your paradise;
that which you love beyond all else,
but have not yet found;
that for which your whole life
should be exchanged;
find that one thing without delay,
and you will have no more questions,
only the joy of working at the work
for which you were born..’
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Translated from Geibel
O say, thou wild, thou oft deceived heart,
What mean these noisy throbbings in my breast?
After thy long, unutterable woe
Wouldst thou not rest?
Fall'n from Life's tree the sweet rose-blossom lies,
And fragrant youth has fled. What made to seem
This earth as fair to thee as Paradise,
Was all a dream.
The blossom fell, the thorn was left to me;
Deep from the wound the blood-drops ever flow,
All that I have are yearnings, wild desires,
And wrath and woe.
They brought me Lethe's water, saying, 'Drink!'
'Drink, for the draught is sweet,' I heard them say,
'Shalt learn how soft a thing forgetting is.'
I answered : 'Nay.'
What tho' indeed it were an idle cheat,
Nathless to me 'twas very fair and blest:
With every breath I draw I know that love
Reigns in my breast.
Let me go forth,--and thou, my heart, bleed on:
A lonely spot I seek by night and day,
That love and sorrow I may there breathe forth
In a last lay.
As it was in the Beginning
As it was in the beginning, so we’ll find it in the end,
For a lover, or a brother, or a sweetheart, or a friend;
As it was in the beginning, so we’ll find it by-and-bye,
When weak women hug their babies, and strong men go out to die.
As ’tis written now, or spoken, so we’ll find it yet in deed—
For their State, or for their Country, for their Honour or their Creed;
For the love of Right, or hatred for the Everlasting Lie,
When the women think of some things, and strong men go out to die.
As it used to be in past times, in the future so it must,
We shall find him stretching forward with his face down in the dust,
All his wounds in front, and hidden—blood to earth, and back to sky,
When pale women pray in private, and strong men go out to die.
Rebels all we are, and brothers—rebels to the laws we make—
Rich or poor, or fat or lean man, fighting for another’s sake;
It is all as God decreed it—we shall find it by-and-bye,
When our girls, disguised in boys’ clothes, go to die where strong men die.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Sadness and Joy
I pray you, Sadness, leave me soon,
In sweet invention thou art poor!
Thy sister, Joy can make ten songs
While thou art making four.
One hour with thee is sweet enough;
But when we find the whole day gone
And no created thing is left --
We mourn the evil done.
Thou art too slow to shape thy thoughts
In stone, on canvas, or in song;
But Joy, being full of active heat,
Must do some deed ere long.
Thy sighs are gentle, sweet thy tears;
But if thou canst not help a man
To prove in substance what he feels --
Then givve me Joy, who can.
Therefore sweet Sadness, leave me soon,
Let thy bright sister, Joy, come more;
For she can make ten lovely songs
While thou art making four.
poem by William Henry Davies
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To-Morrow
When you’re suffering hard for your sins, old man,
When you wake to trouble and sleep ill—
Oh, this is the clack of the middle class,
‘Win back the respect of the people!’
You are weak, you’re a fool, or a drunken brute
When you’re deep in trouble and sorrow;
But walk down the street in a decent suit,
And their hats will be off to-morrow! Old Chap—
And their hats will be off to-morrow!
They cant and they cackle—‘Redeem the Past!’
Who never had past worth redeeming:
Your soul seems dead, but you’ll find at last
That somewhere your soul lay dreaming.
You may stagger down-hill in a beer-stained coat,
You may loaf, you may cadge and borrow—
But walk down the street with a ten-pound note
And their hats will be off to-morrow! Old Man—
Yes, their hats will be off to-morrow!
But stick to it, man! for your old self’s sake,
Though to brood on the past is human;
Hold up for the sake of the mate who was true,
And the sake of the Other Woman.
And as for the rest, you may take off your hat
And banish all signs of sorrow;
You may take their hands, but in spite of that,
Can they win your respect to-morrow? Old Man—
Can they win your respect to-morrow?
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Blood Of The Poor
I rise early
And see in the east
In the morning
Find you surprisingly
A ball of crimson red
The blood of the poor and destitute
You must have drunk yesterday!
Was it easy, tasty and very cheap?
Or the blood of the rich is not red!
At twilight
In the far west
Again I see you deep red
Surely you have been fed
With the blood of the poor and the destitute
As a tricky delicate delicious food.
Still you are honorable!
Still you are worship able!
In the east
You rise
For the rich
If we put
Our demand
In front of you
Behind the cloud
You start to play hide and seek.
Willingly you have forgotten
Without keeping the promise
Going down to sleep
In the west
Like a thief
And become a perjure
Now it is cent percent sure
No one is in this world for the weak and the poor.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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On Another's Sorrow
Can I see another’s woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another’s grief,
And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow’s share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow fill'd?
Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
And can He who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird’s grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear,
And not sit beside the nest,
Pouring pity in their breast;
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant’s tear;
And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
O, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
He doth give His joy to all;
He becomes an infant small;
He becomes a man of woe;
He doth feel the sorrow too.
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not near.
O! He gives to us His joy
That our grief he may destroy;
Till our grief is fled & gone
He doth sit by us and moan.
poem by William Blake from Songs of Innocence (1789)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonnet 34: Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way,
Hiding thy brav'ry in their rotten smoke?
'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,
To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
For no man well of such a salve can speak
That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace.
Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;
Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss.
Th' offender's sorrow lends but weak relief
To him that bears the strong offence's cross.
Ah, but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds,
And they are rich, and ransom all ill deeds.
poem by William Shakespeare
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The Rich Man And The Poor Young Woman
it is a world of
symbiosis
when an old, rich man
meets a
poor young woman
lonely as he is
he offers her
romance
the moon and the stars
to her bosom
the young woman smiles
and too kind enough
to answer him with
some smiles
and welcoming
affections
he says he will marry her
and she takes him
for a husband
he needs love
she needs (so badly)
his cash
and then they live happily
shortly after
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Never Wore A Gun Before
Never wore a gun before
A plane in the fog, oh wait those are clouds Im talking about
The suitcase in my hand and the way I have to walk
Those are empty smiles, empty eyes Im looking in
Times are over when it was difficult to say
It took some time but I know its just right now
So just a little word about whats really going on
If you want to take that as my way
To say goodbye to you as these red nights must go on
I was rich and I was poor
Didnt do the things I had to do
I was strong and I was weak
Was not the girl I tried to be
I was lost and I was found
He earned money you couldnt count
But I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
He left the chamber but these times are over
Shes got
Shes got more than four weeks to be herself
Hes playin with fire and looks around on this world
Oh I love them and the plane in the fog
I was brave and I had fear
I did things...oh my dar
I was strong and I was weak
Was not the girl I tried to be
I was up and I was down
He thought the things to the ground
But I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
Never wore a gun before
I was brave and I had fear
I did things...oh my dear
I never wore a gun before
I was brave and I had fear
I did things...oh my dear
I was strong and I was weak
Was not the girl I tried to be
But I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
Never wore a gun before
song performed by by Wonderwall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Wore A Gun Before
Never wore a gun before
A plane in the fog, oh wait those are clouds Im talking about
The suitcase in my hand and the way I have to walk
Those are empty smiles, empty eyes Im looking in
Times are over when it was difficult to say
It took some time but I know its just right now
So just a little word about whats really going on
If you want to take that as my way
To say goodbye to you as these red nights must go on
I was rich and I was poor
Didnt do the things I had to do
I was strong and I was weak
Was not the girl I tried to be
I was lost and I was found
He earned money you couldnt count
But I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
He left the chamber but these times are over
Shes got
Shes got more than four weeks to be herself
Hes playin with fire and looks around on this world
Oh I love them and the plane in the fog
I was brave and I had fear
I did things...oh my dar
I was strong and I was weak
Was not the girl I tried to be
I was up and I was down
He thought the things to the ground
But I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
Never wore a gun before
I was brave and I had fear
I did things...oh my dear
I never wore a gun before
I was brave and I had fear
I did things...oh my dear
I was strong and I was weak
Was not the girl I tried to be
But I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
I never wore a gun before
Never wore a gun before
song performed by by Wonderwall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hymn For My Brother's Ordination
Christ to the young man said: 'Yet one thing more;
If thou wouldst perfect be,
Sell all thou hast and give it to the poor,
And come and follow me!'
Within this temple Christ again, unseen,
Those sacred words hath said,
And his invisible hands to-day have been
Laid on a young man's head.
And evermore beside him on his way
The unseen Christ shall move,
That he may lean upon his arm and say,
'Dost thou, dear Lord, approve?'
Beside him at the marriage feast shall be,
To make the scene more fair;
Beside him in the dark Gethsemane
Of pain and midnight prayer.
O holy trust! O endless sense of rest!
Like the beloved John
To lay his head upon the Saviour's breast,
And thus to journey on!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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