Art Above Nature: To Julia
When I behold a forest spread
With silken trees upon thy head;
And when I see that other dress
Of flowers set in comeliness;
When I behold another grace
In the ascent of curious lace,
Which, like a pinnacle, doth shew
The top, and the top-gallant too;
Then, when I see thy tresses bound
Into an oval, square, or round,
And knit in knots far more than I.
Can tell by tongue, or True-love tie;
Next, when those lawny films I see
Play with a wild civility;
And all those airy silks to flow,
Alluring me, and tempting so--
I must confess, mine eye and heart
Dotes less on nature than on art.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Hymn 68
The banquet of love.
SS 2:1-4,6,7.
Behold the Rose of Sharon here,
The Lily which the valleys bear;
Behold the Tree of Life, that gives
Refreshing fruit and healing leaves.
Amongst the thorns so lilies shine;
Amongst wild gourds the noble vine;
So in mine eyes my Savior proves,
Amidst a thousand meaner loves.
Beneath his cooling shade I sat,
To shield me from the burning heat;
Of heav'ly fruit he spreads a feast,
To feed mine eyes and please my taste.
[Kindly he brought me to the place
Where stands the banquet of his grace;
He saw me faint, and o'er my head
The banner of his love he spread.
With living bread and gen'rous wine,
He cheers this sinking heart of mine;
And op'ning his own heart to me,
He shows his thoughts how kind they be.]
O never let my Lord depart;
Lie down, and rest upon my heart;
I charge my sins not once to move,
Nor stir, nor wake, nor grieve my Love.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Son Of Perdition
Behold the stars that shine above and on the beast newborn.
Behold the man who knows not love, just bitterness and scorn.
Behold the man of ill repute - his smiles that gleam and gleam.
Behold the man behind the suit - his hatred is extreme.
Behold the answers that he shares, his miracles and gifts.
Behold the economic scares and problems that he lifts.
Behold the dark tools of his trade, his sorceries and spells.
Behold the blasphemies displayed as if from poisoned wells.
Behold the leaders in his thrall, the slaves and armies, too.
Behold the devils at his call and what he made them do.
Behold the billions he controlled like puppets on their strings.
Behold the billions in his fold and kings his underlings.
Behold the horns upon his head to match his demon heart.
Behold the souls that he misled, the lives he tore apart.
Behold what God will send to Hell! Unsaved! No remission!
Behold what prophecies foretell... Lost son of perdition...
poem by Denis Martindale
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I Will Branch Out
Behold the man who is the seed,
Behold the woman who is the bud,
Behold the child who is the fruit,
And, behold the muse of love which has now become the branch!
For, we can now see the benefit of true love.
I will branch out from my place to touch your heart with my love,
For if there is no loser in a game, there will be no winner in this life;
So, just give me cold water to quench my thirst.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Picture Dealer
There were twin artists A. and B.
Who painted pictures two,
And hung them in my galley
For everyone to view;
The one exhibited by A.
The name "A Sphere" did bear,
While strangely brother B's display
Was catalogued: "A Square".
Now although A. (and this is queer)
Could squeeze a pretty tube,
The picture that he called a Sphere
Was blocky as a cube;
While B. (though no hint he disclosed
To pull the public leg)
The Square he placidly exposed
Was oval as an egg.
Thought I: To sell these pictures two
I never will be able;
There's only one thing I can do,
That's change around the label.
The rotund one I called a Sphere,
The cornered one a Square . . .
And yet, I thought: It's very queer,
Unbought they linger there.
Then strange as it may well appear,
Derision did I bare,
And blandly dubbed the Square a Sphere
And tabbed the Sphere a Square.
Behold the answer I had found,
For to my glad dismay
The curious came crowding round:
A sold the daubs next day.
Well, maybe A. and B. were right,
Not mugs like you and me,
With something missing in our sight
That only artists see.
So what it is and what it ain't
I'll never more discuss . . .
These guys believe in what they paint,
Or . . . are they spoofing us?
poem by Robert William Service
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The Twenty-Third Psalm
My Shepherd is the Lord my God,--
There is no want I know;
His flock He leads in verdant meads,
Where tranquil waters flow.
He doth restore my fainting soul
With His divine caress,
And, when I stray, He points the way
To paths of righteousness.
Yea, though I walk the vale of death,
What evil shall I fear?
Thy staff and rod are mine, O God,
And Thou, my Shepherd, near!
Mine enemies behold the feast
Which my dear Lord hath spread;
And, lo! my cup He filleth up,
With oil anoints my head!
Goodness and mercy shall be mine
Unto my dying day;
Then will I bide at His dear side
Forever and for aye!
poem by Eugene Field
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Behold
Like morning's first light,
like the stars in the night
my love is a sight
to behold.
Like the heat of the sun,
like the rivers that run
My love is the one
I behold.
Like a delicate wine,
like crystal so fine
I'm glad you are mine
to behold.
Like your smile of delight,
like you looked in bridal white
you still are my sight
to behold.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Lo And Behold
I pulled out for San Anton',
I never felt so good.
My woman said she'd meet me there
And of course, I knew she would.
The coachman, he hit me for my hook
And he asked me my name.
I give it to him right away,
Then I hung my head in shame.
Lo and behold! Lo and behold!
Lookin' for my lo and behold,
Get me outa here, my dear man!
I come into Pittsburgh
At six-thirty flat.
I found myself a vacant seat
An' I put down my hat.
"What's the matter, Molly, dear,
What's the matter with your mound?"
"What's it to ya, Moby Dick?
This is chicken town!"
Lo and behold! Lo and behold!
Lookin' for my lo and behold,
Get me outa here, my dear man!
I bought my girl
A herd of moose,
One she could call her own.
Well, she came out the very next day
To see where they had flown.
I'm goin' down to Tennessee,
Get me a truck 'r somethin'.
Gonna save my money and rip it up!
Lo and behold! Lo and behold!
Lookin' for my lo and behold,
Get me outa here, my dear man!
Now, I come in on a ferris wheel
An' boys, I sure was slick.
I come in like a ton of bricks,
Laid a few tricks on 'em.
Goin' back to Pittsburgh,
Count up to thirty,
Round that horn and ride that herd,
Gonna thread up!
Lo and behold! Lo and behold!
Lookin' for my lo and behold,
Get me outa here, my dear man!
song performed by by Bob Dylan, music by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behold
I get it done
behold plenitude
focused
behold joy
behold greatness of god
behold wonderful life
behold charisma
behold
poem by Johnny Walks
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Because Of You
As I gaze adoringly into your eyes, my heart, melodious with jubilation:
I hold your hand, witness your grace-and it leaps with exaltation!
Forever in your debt for the gift you did bequeath,
Ne'er wane in your belief of such, I do beseech!
Your emenence ever growing, with the passing of days,
Though your beauty and charm, all the while-ever stays!
Each day spent, more alluring than was the last-
Until next I behold your visage, I keep memories fast!
Separated are we now by many miles-
Though responsible are you for each of my smiles!
Look forward do I, to days spent together:
When there begins our forever!
Days ever more replete with love so true-
My heart doth swell...because of you!
Maurice Harris,13 October 2008
poem by Maurice Harris
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Square Peg, Round Hole
He's a square peg in a round hole
Misfit in a slick world
Don't play the game
Don't do what he's told
He's a square peg in a round hole
Square peg don't care
The bright lights he's not there
Catch the shadows see him slip away
Square peg that's what they say
Square peg, Suare peg
Square peg, you have got to be strong
Square peg, he's got his own song
Square peg, I'll see you around
Square peg, face down
Square peg, round hole
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Caelica: Sonnet 22
I, with whose colours Myra dress'd her head,
I, that ware posies of her own hand-making,
I, that mine own name in the chimneys read
By Myra finely wrought ere I was waking:
Must I look on, in hope time coming may
With change bring back my turn again to play?
I, that on Sunday at the church-stile found
A garland sweet, with true-love knots in flowers,
Which I to wear about mine arm was bound,
That each of us might know that all was ours:
Must I now lead an idle life in wishes,
And follow Cupid for his loaves and fishes?
I, that did wear the ring her mother left,
I, for whose love she gloried to be blamed,
I, with whose eyes her eyes committed theft,
I, who did make her blush when I was named:
Must I lose ring, flowers, blush, theft, and go naked,
Watching with sighs till dead love be awaked?
I, that, when drowsy Argus fell asleep,
Like jealousy o'erwatched with desire,
Was even warned modesty to keep,
While her breath, speaking, kindled Nature's fire:
Must I look on a-cold, while others warm them?
Do Vulcan's brothers in such fine nets arm them?
Was it for this that I might Myra see
Washing the water with her beauties white?
Yet would she never write her love to me.
Thinks wit of change, while thoughts are in delight?
Mad girls must safely love as they may leave;
No man can print a kiss: lines may deceive.
poem by Lord Brooke Fulke Greville
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Sweet Disorder
A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction--
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher--
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly--
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat--
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility--
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Delight in Disorder
A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness;
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction;
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher;
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribands to flow confusedly;
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat;
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility:
Do more bewitch me, than when art
Is too precise in every part.
poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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On The Rising Of The Sun
Look, look, brave Sol doth peep up from beneath,
Shows us his golden face, doth on us breathe;
He also doth compass us round with glories,
Whilst he ascends up to his highest stories.
Where he his banner over us displays,
And gives us light to see our works and ways.
Nor are we now, as at the peep of light,
To question, is it day, or is it night?
The night is gone, the shadows fled away,
And we now most sure are that it is day.
Our eyes behold it, and our hearts believe it;
Nor can the wit of man in this deceive it.
And thus it is when Jesus shows his face,
And doth assure us of his love and grace.
poem by John Bunyan
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The Nativity of Christ
Behold the father is his daughter's son,
The bird that built the nest is hatched therein,
The old of years an hour hath not outrun,
Eternal life to live doth now begin,
The Word is dumb, the mirth of heaven doth weep,
Might feeble is, and force doth faintly creep.
O dying souls, behold your living spring;
O dazzled eyes, behold your sun of grace;
Dull ears, attend what word this Word doth bring;
Up, heavy hearts, with joy your joy embrace.
From death, from dark, from deafness, from despairs
This life, this light, this Word, this joy repairs.
Gift better than himself God doth not know;
Gift better than his God no man can see.
This gift doth here the giver given bestow;
Gift to this gift let each receiver be.
God is my gift, himself he freely gave me;
God's gift am I, and none but God shall have me.
Man altered was by sin from man to beast;
Beast's food is hay, hay is all mortal flesh.
Now God is flesh and lies in manger pressed
As hay, the brutest sinner to refresh.
O happy field wherein that fodder grew,
Whose taste doth us from beasts to men renew.
poem by Robert Southwell
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Come, Hold My Hand
'Come, hold my hand! ' the angel said, 'I'll lead you to a land
The Chosen Few alone must tread the day they understand
That God is love and so much more than human souls could sense
The day they open up the door... forgiven... now His friends...'
And so the angel led me there and proved my gallant guide
As I intently spoke a prayer, yet stared, eyes open wide!
'Behold the Tree of Life God made so many years ago!
Behold the ancient leaves that fade and yet by faith they grow!
Behold God's rainbow-like raptures 'twixt Heaven and the Earth!
How beautifully its light captures His holiness and worth!
Behold God's mountain borne of gold - its glory shames the sun!
Yet it's as nothing to Christ's fold - God's Shepherd loves each one!
Behold God's angels soaring high in perfect unison,
Their energy is God's supply - His gift to every one! '
'These sights, ' I said, 'Are not enough! It's Jesus I would see!
For Jesus is the Lord I love! The King of Calvary!
I've felt each blow, His cross of woe, six hours 'neath the sky!
I only know, I love Him so, who for my soul would die! '
The angel said, 'Your heart speaks true! I'll lead you to His Throne!
The day of death I'll fly you to the final vision shown...'
poem by Denis Martindale
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Come, Hold My Hand!
'Come, hold my hand! ' the angel said, 'I'll lead you to a land
The Chosen Few alone must tread the day they understand
That God is love and so much more than human souls could sense
The day they open up the door... forgiven... now His friends...'
And so the angel led me there and proved my gallant guide
As I intently spoke a prayer, yet stared, eyes open wide!
'Behold the Tree of Life God made so many years ago!
Behold the ancient leaves that fade and yet by faith they grow!
Behold God's rainbow-like raptures 'twixt Heaven and the Earth!
How beautifully its light captures His holiness and worth!
Behold God's mountain borne of gold - its glory shames the sun!
Yet it's as nothing to Christ's fold - God's Shepherd loves each one!
Behold God's angels soaring high in perfect unison,
Their energy is God's supply - His gift to every one! '
'These sights, ' I said, 'Are not enough! It's Jesus I would see!
For Jesus is the Lord I love! The King of Calvary!
I've felt each blow, His cross of woe, six hours 'neath the sky!
I only know, I love Him so, who for my soul would die! '
The angel said, 'Your heart speaks true! I'll lead you to His Throne!
The day of death I'll fly you to the final vision shown...'
poem by Denis Martindale
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Hymn 152
Sinai and Zion.
Heb. 12:18ff
Not to the terrors of the Lord,
The tempest, fire, and smoke;
Not to the thunder of that word
Which God on Sinai spoke;
But we are come to Zion's hill,
The city of our God,
Where milder words declare his will,
And spread his love abroad.
Behold th' innumerable host
Of angels clothed in light!
Behold the spirits of the just,
Whose faith is turned to sight!
Behold the blest assembly there
Whose names are writ in heav'n!
And God, the Judge of all, declares
Their vilest sins forgiv'n.
The saints on earth and all the dead
But one communion make;
All join in Christ their living Head,
And of his grace partake.
In such society as this
My weary soul would rest;
The man that dwells where Jesus is
Must be for ever blest.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 73
The church's beauty in the eyes of Christ.
SS 4:1-11.
Kind is the speech of Christ our Lord,
Affection sounds in every word:
Lo! thou art fair, my love," he cries,
"Not the young doves have sweeter eyes."
["Sweet are thy lips, thy pleasing voice
Salutes mine ear with secret joys;
No spice so much delights the smell,
Nor milk nor honey tastes so well.]
"Thou art all fair, my bride, to me,
I will behold no spot in thee."
What mighty wonders love performs,
And puts a comeliness on worms!
Defiled and loathsome as we are,
He makes us white, and calls us fair;
Adorns us with that heav'nly dress,
His graces and his righteousness.
"My sister and my spouse," he cries,
"Bound to my heart by various ties,
Thy powerful love my heart detains
In strong delight and pleasing chains."
He calls me from the leopard's den,
From this wild world of beasts and men,
To Zion, where his glories are;
Not Lebanon is half so fair.
Nor dens of prey, nor flowery plains,
Nor earthly joys, nor earthly pains,
Shall hold my feet or force my stay,
When Christ invites my soul away.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Sonnet- The World Today(4)
Behold a beggar playing sad a tune!
By heart, on his own poor, old harmonium;
Though blind, he seems to be in God’s commune;
Alas! is this the new millennium?
Behold a lady working by hand-loom;
A widow poor, she has a female child!
Victim of consumption that spread to womb;
That turns all hearts of sympathy so wild.
Behold the handicapped who jobs the lathe!
With fore-limbs lost by accident, the smiles;
’Tis hard and dangerous; his sweat does bathe;
In dignity he lives and walks home miles.
And lo, the whole some man in car complains,
And curses all while driving drunk through lanes!
poem by John Celes
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