The Summing Up
When you have sailed the seven seas
And looped the ends of earth,
You'll long at last for slippered ease
Beside a bonny hearth;
A cosy cottage in the sun,
A pleasant page to read -
You'll find when all is said and done,
That's nearly all you need.
You may have pow-wowed with the Great
And played a potent part
In serious affairs of state,
But now with quiet heart
You bide beside a rosy fire
And blether with a friend,
Discovering that you require
So little in the end.
And all your days of fevered flight
For glory, gold or gear
Will seem so futile when the Night
Draws dolorously near;
And you will only ask to be
With modest comfort blest,
With sweetness of simplicity,
With rich reward of rest.
poem by Robert William Service
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Related quotes
Fire Inside (From, The Barka Lyrics - II)
Fire inside
Through the years must glide
Days coming through
Each one is new
Through each life's tide
Stormy weather ride
Gray and darkish hue
Blending futures cue
Fire inside
With fire inside
Heart and feelings bide... Yeah!
Fire inside
With fire inside
Heart and feelings bide
Days are clearing the night
On and on we will go
Into inspirational flight
Come let your wings grow
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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My Indian Summer
Here in the Autumn of my days
My life is mellowed in a haze.
Unpleasant sights are none to clear,
Discordant sounds I hardly hear.
Infirmities like buffers soft
Sustain me tranquilly aloft.
I'm deaf to duffers, blind to bores,
Peace seems to percolate my pores.
I fold my hands, keep quiet mind,
In dogs and children joy I find.
With temper tolerant and mild,
Myself you'd almost think a child.
Yea, I have come on pleasant ways
Here in the Autumn of my days.
Here in the Autumn of my days
I can allow myself to laze,
To rest and give myself to dreams:
Life never was so sweet, it seems.
I haven't lost my sense of smell,
My taste-buds never served so well.
I love to eat - delicious food
Has never seemed one half so good.
In tea and coffee I delight,
I smoke and sip my grog at night.
I have a softer sense of touch,
For comfort I enjoy so much.
My skis are far more blues than greys,
Here in the Autumn of my days.
Here in the Autumn of my days
My heart is full of peace and praise.
Yet though I know that Winter's near,
I'll meet and greet it with a cheer.
With friendly books, with cosy fires,
And few but favourite desires,
I'll live from strife and woe apart,
And make a Heaven in my heart.
For Goodness, I have learned, is best,
And should by Kindness be expressed.
And so December with a smile
I'll wait and welcome, but meanwhile,
Blest interlude! The Gods I praise,
For this, the Autumn of my days.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Place Where The Rainbow Ends
THERE'S a fabulous story
Full of splendor and glory,
That Arabian legends transcends;
Of the wealth without measure,
The coffers of treasure,
At the place where the rainbow ends.
Oh, many have sought it,
And all would have bought it,
With the blood we so recklessly spend;
But none has uncovered,
The gold, nor discovered
The spot at the rainbow's end.
They have sought it in battle,
And e'en where the rattle
Of dice with man's blasphemy blends;
But howe'er persuasive,
It still proves evasive,
This place where the rainbow ends.
I own for my pleasure,
I yearn not for treasure,
Though gold has a power it lends;
And I have a notion,
To find without motion,
The place where the rainbow ends.
The pot may hold pottage,
The place be a cottage,
That a humble contentment defends,
Only joy fills its coffer,
But spite of the scoffer,
There's the place where the rainbow ends.
Where care shall be quiet,
And love shall run riot,
And I shall find wealth in my friends;
Then truce to the story,
Of riches and glory;
There's the place where the rainbow ends.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Una Bawn
Una Bawn, the days are long,
And the seas I cross are wide,
I must go when Ireland needs,
And you must bide.
And should I not return to you
When the sails are on the tide,
'Tis you will find the days so long,
Una Bawn, and I must bide.
poem by Francis Ledwidge
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The End Of The Chapter
Ah, yes, the chapter ends to-day;
We even lay the book away;
But oh, how sweet the moments sped
Before the final page was read!
We tried to read between the lines
The Author's deep-concealed designs;
But scant reward such search secures;
You saw my heart and I saw yours.
The Master,--He who penned the page
And bade us read it,--He is sage:
And what he orders, you and I
Can but obey, nor question why.
We read together and forgot
The world about us. Time was not.
Unheeded and unfelt, it fled.
We read and hardly knew we read.
Until beneath a sadder sun,
We came to know the book was done.
Then, as our minds were but new lit,
It dawned upon us what was writ;
And we were startled. In our eyes,
Looked forth the light of great surprise.
Then as a deep-toned tocsin tolls,
A voice spoke forth: 'Behold your souls!'
I do, I do. I cannot look
Into your eyes: so close the book.
But brought it grief or brought it bliss,
No other page shall read like this!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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To Leonide Massine in ‘Cleopatra’
O beauty doomed and perfect for an hour,
Leaping along the verge of death and night,
You show me dauntless Youth that went to fight
Four long years past, discovering pride and power.
You die but in our dreams, who watch you fall
Knowing that to-morrow you will dance again.
But not to ebbing music were they slain
Who sleep in ruined graves, beyond recall;
Who, following phantom-glory, friend and foe,
Into the darkness that was War must go;
Blind; banished from desire.
O mortal heart
Be still; you have drained the cup; you have played your part.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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From The 'Antigone
Overcome -- O bitter sweetness,
Inhabitant of the soft cheek of a girl --
The rich man and his affairs,
The fat flocks and the fields' fatness,
Mariners, rough harvesters;
Overcome Gods upon Parnassus;
Overcome the Empyrean; hurl
Heaven and Earth out of their places,
That in the Same calamity
Brother and brother, friend and friend,
Family and family,
City and city may contend,
By that great glory driven wild.
Pray I will and sing I must,
And yet I weep -- Oedipus' child
Descends into the loveless dust.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Great Pioneer
Graham Russell)
It happened long ago
When I felt the need
For a life of my own
I dreamt of summer love
And moving high up north
But no one would go
So I walked up the hill and lay there
Imagining the day was near
I know I want to stay there
And be a great pioneer
I made a promise then
That I'd find a place
Where my world won't end
Give me a piece of land
That will be my life
That I will defend
If I work really hard
I will surely survive
I know my virtue is strong
No one could oppose a spirt
So raw to be a part of the state
To be known as a great pioneer
I keep the fires burning
To let you know I'm free
My heart will always be yearning
CHORUS
To be a part of the state
To be a part of the state
To be known as a great pioneer
And if it all should end
ANd I hear the call
From the great unknown
I'll need to go my way
Let me have my day
Let me be alone
I was dreaming here and lay there
Knowing that my time is here
I know I wanna stay there
And be a part of the state
And be a part of the state
And be known as a great pioneer
song performed by by Air Supply
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunset on the Spire
All that I dream
By day or night
Lives in that stream
Of lovely light.
Here is the earth,
And there is the spire;
This is my hearth,
And that is my fire.
From the sun's dome
I am shouted proof
That this is my home,
And that is my roof.
Here is my food,
And here is my drink,
And I am wooed
From the moon's brink.
And the days go over,
And the nights end;
Here is my lover,
Here is my friend.
All that I
Can ever ask
Wears that sky
Like a thin gold mask.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Hymn 102
The Beatitudes.
Mt. 5:3-12.
[Blest are the humble souls that see
Their emptiness and poverty;
Treasures of grace to them are giv'n,
And crowns of joy laid up in heav'n.]
[Blest are the men of broken heart,
Who mourn for sin with inward smart
The blood of Christ divinely flows,
A healing balm for all their woes.]
[Blest are the meek, who stand afar
From rage and passion, noise and war;
God will secure their happy state,
And plead their cause against the great.]
[Blest are the souls that thirst for grace,
Hunger and long for righteousness;
They shall be well supplied, and fed
With living streams and living bread.]
[Blest are the men whose bowels move
And melt with sympathy and love;
From Christ the Lord shall they obtain
Like sympathy and love again.]
[Blest are the pure, whose hearts arc clean
From the defiling powers of sin;
With endless pleasure they shall see
A God of spotless purity.]
[Blest are the men of peaceful life,
Who quench the coals of growing strife;
They shall be called the heirs of bliss,
The sons of God, the God of peace.]
[Blest are the suff'rers who partake
Of pain and shame for Jesus' sake;
Their souls shall triumph in the Lord
Glory and joy are their reward.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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The Obscure Night of the Soul
Upon an obscure night,
Fevered with love in love's anxiety,
(O hapless-happy plight!)
I went, none seeing me,
Forth from my house where all things quiet be.
By night, secure from sight,
And by the secret stair, disguisedly,
(O hapless-happy plight!)
By night, and privily,
Forth from my house where all things quiet be.
Blest night of wandering,
In secret, where by none might I be spied,
Nor I see anything;
Without a light or guide,
Save that which in my heart burnt in my side.
That light did lead me on,
More surely than the shining of noontide,
Where well I knew that one
Did for my coming bide;
Where he abode might none but he abide.
O night that didst lead thus,
O night more lovely than the dawn of light,
O night that broughtest us,
Lover to lover's sight,
Lover with loved in marriage of delight!
Upon my flowery breast,
Wholly for him, and save himself for none,
There did I give sweet rest
To my beloved one;
The fanning of the cedars breathed thereon.
When the first moving air
Blew from the tower, and waved his locks aside.
His hand, with gentle care,
Did wound me in the side,
And in my body all my senses died.
All things I then forgot,
My cheek on him who for my coming came;
All ceased, and I was not,
Leaving my cares and shame
Among the lilies, and forgetting them.
poem by Arthur Symons
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I Could Have Been a Sailor
I'm a happy woman
I made my choice in life
I chose to settle down
I chose to be a wife
And I take pleasure in my quiet hearth
And happy home
I never gave my heart
Its chance to roam
I could have been a sailor
And sailed the seven seas
The wind in my face all day
Can you taste the salty breeze?
I could have been a lover
Watchin' waves before me part
But I settled for safer harbors
Of my heart
I'm a lucky woman
I'm the envy of my peers
Never ask for favors
And I never show my fears
Surrounded by too many friends
song performed by by Maureen McGovern from Another Woman in Love
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seek The Lord
Friend, if you seek to understand, you will know The Son of Man.
If you search with all your heart, Christ will guide you at the start.
Christ will give you eyes to see, that shall help your heart believe.
You will see Him throughout the day, as He leads you all the way.
The Lord is on the written page, and is read by men of every age.
He is the Living Word of God, and He will guide you with His rod.
Friend, if you seek The Lord above, He will fill you with His Love.
With His love He gives a peace, along the way that will not cease.
And in The Lord you can depend, He wants to be to you, a friend.
If you seek to find Him friend, He shall lead you to a glorious end.
On the cross He did His part, to change your mind and your heart.
Friend, now the rest is up to you, for Jesus did what He had to do.
Seek Christ in the written Word, to confirm what you have heard.
Friend, if you truly seek The Lord, your effort shall not be ignored.
For your eyes will be opened to, everything God has done for you.
The Lord’s promises you will see, are good through all of Eternity.
Seek Him while He can be found, and you will be on solid ground.
Seeking will lead you to believe, then Jesus Christ you will receive.
And your search for The Lord, will reap for you an Eternal Reward.
For all who do seek Jesus Christ, receive through faith Eternal Life.
Fulfilment
I sing of starry dreams come true,
Of hopes fulfilled;
Of rich reward beyond my due,
Of harvest milled.
The full fruition of the years
Is mine to hold,
And in despite of toil and tears
The sun is gold.
I have no hate for any one
On this good earth;
My days of hardihood are done,
And hushed my hearth.
No echo of a world afar
Can trouble me;
Above a grove the evening star
Serene I see.
No jealousy nor passion base
Can irk me now;
Recieved am I unto God's grace
With tranquil brow.
Adieu to love I have and hold,
Farewell to friend;
In peace and faith my hands I fold
And wait the end.
poem by Robert William Service
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Bacchus Marsh
Here she bides, a buxom lady,
Blest by peace and great content;
Dwelling by her byways shady,
Where the elm trees boughs are bent;
Shutting out the world's wild clamor,
Lending to her streets a glamour,
Gracious and beneficent.
Fortune came to her full easy,
Asking little of man's toil;
So she prospered in those breezy
Days when wealth sprang from the soil
And kind earth, munificently,
As the placid seasons passed,
For man's fortune proffered gently
Rich and gracious gifts in plenty,
Drawn from out her storehouse vast.
Portly dame, untuned to trouble,
Destined through the years to be
While the ills of earth redouble
Sheltered in tranquility,
Asking neither fame nor glory,
And with quiet dilligence
Tending earth that tells the story
Of an age long gone and hoary,
And the young world's turbulence.
Brown hills, broody in the diatnce,
Fecund fields that won their worth
Out of nature's mad insistence
To remould her tortured earth
These have left their age-old traces
In the glacier's graven trail,
Thro' the wondrous green oasis
Where the pleasant river races
To the sea from this calm vale.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Adventurer
THE land of gold was far away,
The sea a challenge roared between;
I left my throne, my crown, my queen,
And sailed out of the quiet bay.
I met the challenge of the wave,
The curses of the winds I mocked:
The conquered wave my galley rocked,
The wind became my envious slave.
I brought much treasure from afar,
Spices, and shells, and rich attire;
Red rubies, fed with living fire,
To lie where all my longings are.
Heavy with spoil my keel ploughed low
As slow we sailed into the bay,
And long ago seemed yesterday
And yesterday looked long ago.
I came in triumph from the sea;
Bent was my crown, my courts grown mean,
And on my throne a faded queen
Raised alien eyes, and looked at me.
'My queen! These rubies let me lay
Upon thy heart, as once my head . . .'
She smiled pale scorn: 'My heart!' she said,
And turned her weary eyes away.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Flower Gardener
Gas got me in the first World War,
And all my mates at rest are laid.
I felt I might survive them for
I am a gardener by trade.
My life is in the open air,
And kindly is the work I do,
Since flowers are my joy and care,
And comfort too.
My flowers are a fairy sight,
Yes I'm an ugly, warped old man,
For I have lived in Fate's despite
A year beyond one's mortal span;
And owe my health no gentle toil
From dawn to dark, contented hours,
Of loving kinship with the soil,
A friend of flowers.
My dahlias are my pride today,
And many my creations be.
They're worth a fortune, people say,
But what does money mean to me?
Their glory is my rich reward,
And as their radiant heads they raise,
I dedicate them to the Lord,
With love and praise.
I grieve to think that sullen Powers
On bombs and guns their might depend;
If man had heart for growing flowers
Then would we all be friend and friend.
The glory of the world is his
Who seeks salvation in the sod,
And finds that golden sunshine is
The laugh of God.
poem by Robert William Service
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Friend Is All That Matter
Friend is a person with whom
I may be sincere,
pleasant,
comfort,
kindness
and warmth.
Praise from a friend.
A friend is the hope of the heart.
I see I have a true friend
with full of joys of friendship.
Faithful friend is hard to find.
Friend is a way to have.
poem by BuuVan A.J. Rasih
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In the spirit of Rumi - 35 - Three answers
I asked the passing strangers
in the fine street of the wise,
‘Tell me about your Self itself’
The first man said to me
‘It is like a rose garden
planted around a fountain –
it is always beautiful,
changing, yet unchanging;
it is the very centre
of my peace and rest…’
The second man said to me
‘It is like a treasure house of riches –
full of more sparkling, deep-coloured jewels
than anyone’s imagination
could ever begin to describe;
as beautiful as anything
in heaven or on earth…’
The third man said to me
‘It is like a mine of gold and silver
where you only have to dig
and there is always more to find…’
To the first man I said
‘You are indeed blest,
O noble sir… and must have earned yourself
this great honour…tell me,
do you invite every passing stranger
to walk and sit in that garden with you? ’
He said
‘Yes; I am a poet.’
To the second man I said
‘You are indeed blest,
O noble sir… and must have earned yourself
this great honour… tell me,
do you invite every passing stranger
into your treasure house, saying,
take all you need -
to make rich their life, too? ’
He said
‘Yes; I am a poet.’
To the third man I said
‘You are indeed blest,
O noble sir… and must have earned yourself
this great honour… tell me,
do you invite every passing stranger
to come and dig whenever he so needs? ’
He said
‘Yes; I am a poet.’
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Licia Sonnets 30
Whenas my Licia sailed in the seas,
Viewing with pride god Neptune's stately crown,
A calm she made, and brought the merchant ease,
The storm she stayed, and checked him with a frown.
Love at the stern sate smiling and did sing
To see how seas had learned for to obey;
And balls of fire into the waves did fling;
And still the boy full wanton thus did say
"Both poles we burnt whereon the world doth turn,
The round of heaven from earth unto the skies;
And now the seas we both intend to burn,
I with my bow, and Licia with her eyes."
Then since thy force, heavens, earth, nor seas can move,
I conquered yield, and do confess I love.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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