Prospero [to Miranda]: The fringed curtains of thine eye advance
And say what thou seest yond.
line from The Tempest, Act I, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare (1611)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Prospero: What seest thou else
In the dark backward and abysm of time?
If thou rememberest aught ere thou camest here,
How thou camest here thou mayst.
line from The Tempest, Act I, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare (1611)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Prospero: This gallant which thou seest
Was in the wreck. And, but he's something stain'd
With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou mightst
Call him a goodly person.
line from The Tempest, Act I, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare (1611)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Miranda
At the end of the day
The end of the light
She remains of all of her foes
Miranda is dying with all of her might
She never comes
She always goes
She sticks the camera right into her arm
Anything to forget what the troubles about
It causes her pain
Thats part of the charm
Shes down for the count
And finally out
Miranda is taking the stars down
A little something to call her own
By the light there still goes miranda
And miranda is always alone
She sees her face in another magazine
And the walls all close in
As the fancy takes flight
Cant stand to be loved
But she loves to be seen
She slips headlong into the night
Miranda is taking the stars down
A little something to call her own
By the light there still goes miranda
And miranda is always alone
And then all at once
The sun starts to rise
She sees her father holding her down
All the daylight is poison to her eyes
She slips down the shade
And lets herself drown
Miranda is taking the stars down
A little something to call her own
By the light there still goes miranda
And miranda is always alone
The lights shot down in the arena
All across the safety zone
Loneliness follows miranda
And miranda is always alone
Miranda is always alone
Miranda is always alone
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dead Astronomer
(Father Perry, S.J.)
Starry amorist, starward gone,
Thou art--what thou didst gaze upon!
Passed through thy golden garden's bars,
Thou seest the Gardener of the Stars.
She, about whose moon-ed brows
Seven stars make seven glows,
Seven lights for seven woes;
She, like thine own Galaxy,
All lustres in one purity:-
What said'st thou, Astronomer,
When thou did'st discover HER?
When thy hand its tube let fall,
Thou found'st the fairest Star of all!
poem by Francis Thompson
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When thou seest an eagle, thou seest a portion of genius; lift up thy head!
quote by William Blake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When thou seest an eagle, thou seest a portion of genius lift up thy head
quote by William Blake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Take Me, O Master, Into Thine Vineyard
0 Master, take me into Thine vineyard;
Thou give me any duty as Thou please;
And when I've finish'd show me Thine backyard;
Enroll me vassal, when free of disease.
0 Master fair, Thou give me a job soon;
Thou may pay me anything in return;
To be Thine servant, humblest is a boon;
For then, I can't ever go to Hell and burn.
0 Master kind, any job will suffice;
My precious time, I've wasted for quite long;
Thou give me food, enough to do work nice;
Thou give me work before ceases Thine song.
How lucky 'tis to be in Thine vineyard!
A servant's lucky more in Thine backyard.
poem by John Celes
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Liberty To M. Le Diplomate
Thou fool who treatest with the sword, and not
With the strong arm that wields it! Thou insane
Who seest the dew-drops on the lion's mane,
But dost forget the lion! Oh thou sot,
Hugging thy drunken dream! Thou idiot
Who makest a covenant against the rain
With autumn leaves! Thou atheist who dost chain
This miserable body that can rot,
And thinkest it Me! Fool! for the swordless arm
Shall strike thee dead. Madman, the lion wakes,
And with one shake is dry. Sot, the day breaks
Shall sober even thee. Idiot, one storm
And thou art bare. Atheist, the corse is thine,
But lo, the unfettered soul immortal and divine!
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Desiring to Be Given up to God
That my heart was right with thee,
And lov'd thee with a perfect love!
O that my Lord would dwell in me,
And never from his seat remove!
Jesus, remove th' impending load,
And set my soul on fire for God!
Thou seest I dwell in awful night
Until thou in my heart appear;
Kindle the flame, O Lord, and light
Thine everlasting candle there:
Thy presence puts the shadows by;
If thou art gone, how dark am I!
Ah! Lord, how should thy servant see,
Unless thou give me seeing eyes?
Well may I fall, if out of thee;
If out of thee, how should I rise?
I wander, Lord, without thy aid,
And lose my way in midnight's shade.
Thy bright, unerring light afford,
A light that gives the sinner hope;
And from the house of bondage, Lord,
O bring the weary captive up,
Thine hand alone can set me free
And reach my pardon out to me.
O let my prayer acceptance find,
And bring the mighty blessing down;
With eye-salve, Lord, anoint the blind,
And seal me thine adopted son:
A fallen, helpless creature take,
And heir of thy salvation make.
poem by Augustus Montague Toplady
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A Lady Who Thinks She Is Thirty
Unwillingly Miranda wakes,
Feels the sun with terror,
One unwilling step she takes,
Shuddering to the mirror.
Miranda in Miranda's sight
Is old and gray and dirty;
Twenty-nine she was last night;
This morning she is thirty.
Shining like the morning star,
Like the twilight shining,
Haunted by a calendar,
Miranda is a-pining.
Silly girl, silver girl,
Draw the mirror toward you;
Time who makes the years to whirl
Adorned as he adored you.
Time is timelessness for you;
Calendars for the human;
What's a year, or thirty, to
Loveliness made woman?
Oh, Night will not see thirty again,
Yet soft her wing, Miranda;
Pick up your glass and tell me, then--
How old is Spring, Miranda?
poem by Ogden Nash
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Mary Magdalene At The Door Of Simon The Pharisee.
“WHY wilt thou cast the roses from thine hair?
Nay, be thou all a rose,—wreath, lips, and cheek.
Nay, not this house,—that banquet-house we seek;
See how they kiss and enter; come thou there.
This delicate day of love we two will share
Till at our ear love's whispering night shall speak.
What, sweet one,—hold'st thou still the foolish freak?
Nay, when I kiss thy feet they'll leave the stair.”
“Oh loose me! Seest thou not my Bridegroom's face
That draws me to Him? For His feet my kiss,
My hair, my tears He craves to-day:—and oh!
What words can tell what other day and place
Shall see me clasp those blood-stained feet of His?
He needs me, calls me, loves me: let me go!”
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Sonnet- Jesus, the Son of God
One Word of Thine can heal my wounded heart;
One look divine can work wonders from start;
One Word of Thine can change water to wine;
One touch of Thine can make a Leper fine.
Authority in Thine word's what we find;
Divinity, none can be than Thy mind;
Psychology of man, Thou know'st so well,
Who can with the Son of God, argue, tell.
What anger great, Thou hast shown in some place!
Thine advice can soothe any angry face;
Thine parables drive home morals so great;
Sin's the thing, not the sinner, Thou did hate.
What love Thou had shown to the poor brethren?
And kindness too to the atheist, heathen.
poem by John Celes
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Clasping of Hands
LORD, Thou art mine, and I am Thine,
If mine I am; and Thine much more
Then I or ought or can be mine.
Yet to be Thine doth me restore,
So that again I now am mine,
And with advantage mine the more,
Since this being mine brings with it Thine,
And Thou with me dost Thee restore:
If I without Thee would be mine,
I neither should be mine nor Thine.
Lord, I am Thine, and Thou art mine;
So mine Thou art, that something more
I may presume Thee mine then Thine,
For Thou didst suffer to restore
Not Thee, but me, and to be mine:
And with advantage mine the more,
Since Thou in death wast none of Thine,
Yet then as mine didst me restore:
O, be mine still; still make me Thine;
Or rather make no Thine and Mine.
poem by George Herbert
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Sonnet: Man, Thou Must Atone Now
Harass me not, Brother, harass me not;
Thou hast made blunder again, once again;
To have redressed my grievances, Thou ought,
Alas! Thou caused my heart to break with pain.
May be, Thou couldst create my file thine way;
Each person's file is maintained by One Boss;
None can prevent Truth's final Win some day;
Thine paper-work will soon be proved as farce.
Please rectify thine past mistakes somehow,
Lest God's punishment should descend on Thee;
Atone thine sin in action now and Now;
Man's cleverness can fai1 him miserably.
Why pick on me when I had done no wrong?
Canst Thou pay damages for suff 'rings long?
poem by John Celes
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Under Especial Blessing
Lord Christ, Lord Christ, ah for a little space
Turn hence. Some day, when I again am low
In the new dust of whatsoever blow
Time hath in license, from Thy perfect place
Oh let the awful solace of thy face
Sun me, but not now! Lord, Thou seest me! How
Can I, o'erborne by what Thy hands bestow,
Bear what Thine eyes? Now, therefore, of Thy grace
I ask but that if ever, as of yore,
Thou lookest up and sigh'st, my kneeling thought
May kiss Thy skirt, and Thou, who know'st if aught
Touch Thee, mayst know, and through Thee, what no more
Is I, but, ne'ertheless, began in me,
May rise to Him Whom no man hath seen, nor can see.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Ch 08 On Rules For Conduct In Life - Admonition 12
When thou perceivest that discord is in the army of the foe, be thou at ease; but if they are united, be apprehensive of thy own distress.
Go and sit in repose with thy friends
When thou seest war among the enemies;
But if thou perceivest that they all agree
Span thy bow and carry stones upon the rampart.
Blessed Be Thy Name Forever
Blessed be thy name for ever,
Thou of life the guard and giver!
Thou canst guard thy creatures sleeping,
Heal the heart long broke with weeping.
Thou who slumbered not, nor sleepest!
Blest are they Thou kindly keepest:
Thine the flaming sphere of light!
Thine the darkness of the night!
Thine the morning and the even,
God of angels, God of heaven!
God of life that fadeth never!
Glory to thy name for ever!
poem by James Hogg
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A Peculiar Ideal
What thou thinkest, belongs to all; what thou feelest, is thine only.
Wouldst thou make him thine own, feel thou the God whom thou thinkest!
poem by Friedrich Schiller
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The Sun Rising
BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school-boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices;
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
Thy beams so reverend, and strong
Why shouldst thou think?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long.
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and to-morrow late tell me,
Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, "All here in one bed lay."
She's all states, and all princes I;
Nothing else is;
Princes do but play us; compared to this,
All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world's contracted thus;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Thy Better Self
I AM thy other self, what thou wilt be,
When thou art I, the one seest now;
In finding thy true self thou wilt find me,
The springing blade, where now thou dost but plough.
I am thy neighbor, a new house I've built,
Which thou as yet hast never entered in;
I come to call thee; come in when thou wilt,
The feast is always ready to begin.
Thou should'st love me, as thou dost love thyself,
For I am but another self beside;
To show thee him thou lov'st in better health,
What thou would'st be, when thou to him hast died;
Then visit me, I make thee many a call;
Nor live I near to thee alone, but all.
poem by Jones Very
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