God's Answer
BANNISTER, who lived for gain,
Counting love and mateship weak,
Bannister of Coolah Creek
Once, and once alone, 'tis said,
Bent his knees and bowed his head,
Praying God to send him rain.
Sheep and cattle were to him
Pounds and pence in wool and hide —
That, and nothing more beside;
Gain, and gain alone, he sought —
Bought and sold, and sold and bought —
Bannister, the shrewd and grim!
Drought might slay his neighbour's sheep,
Leave his friends with stricken lands,
Starving stock and empty hands,
Driving them to ruin's brink;
Not by so much as a wink
Did it cause him loss of sleep.
Loving neither man nor maid,
Man and maid no pity showed
When the Drought, red-handed, strode
Through the land, and spared him not;
Then it was, by all forgot,
Bannister knelt down and prayed.
Hands entreatingly out-thrown,
Head and shoulders bowed with care,
Bannister sent up his prayer;
Did that prayer include a friend?
Nay; but selfish to the end
For himself he prayed alone.
Scarce a stone's-throw from his door
Coolah Creek, dry-bedded, lay
Day and night, and night and day
Staring skyward, stark and dumb;
In its single river-gum
Sang the shepherd-bird no more.
Praying long and low, there ran
Through his mind a vision sweet —
Waters singing at his feet;
And his words a torrent poured:
'Open Thou Thy floodgates, Lord,
Lest I be a ruined man!'
Then he rose and sought his bed,
Sighing as he sank to sleep,
While, without, his famished sheep
In the darkness moaned their woe,
And his cattle, lowing low,
Sagged with droop of eye and head.
Dreams were his with splendour lit,
Happy dreams of days to be:
While his prayer limped leadenly
Through cold spaces, drear and lone,
Till, at last, it reached God's throne,
And God, bending, answered it.
Hot and still the darkness was,
Hushed and hot the midnight air.
Drought and death were everywhere,
Thirst and hunger, pain and grief:
Stirless hung the wilted leaf,
Motionless the brittle grass.
Mercy, pity seemed aloof,
God remote and cold to man,
When a whispering began —
And the sleeper woke to hear,
Low at first, then loud and clear,
Raindrops drumming on his roof.
Little things began to stir,
Little voices filled the night —
Whispers, murmurings of delight,
Till the torrent drowned them all
In the thunder of its fall . . .
God had answered Bannister!
Thinking thus his troubles o'er,
Pleased with God, he slept again;
Bannister, unloved of men,
Loved of God most surely seemed.
Coolah Creek, awakened, streamed
Scarce a stone's-throw from his door.
Dreaming dreams of gain anew,
Bannister reposed at ease,
Hearing but sweet melodies,
Free of loss and free of pain.
Gorged and swollen by the rain,
Coolah Creek a giant grew.
Foam upon its torrent swept,
Leaf and limb went down its flood;
Like a beast athirst for blood
Through the dark it ramped and raged;
Like a lion long encaged,
Free at last, it roared and leapt;
Then it burst its banks, and broke
Bar and barrier in its path
Shouting, foaming in its wrath . . .
Dreaming dreams of golden gain,
Hides and tallow, wool and grain.
Bannister too late awoke.
Never more to speak and stir,
Never more to strive and hoard —
Self, and self alone, his lord —
Veins no more with life aglow,
Body washing to and fro —
God had answered Bannister!
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
God's Answer
BANNISTER, who lived for gain,
Counting love and mateship weak,
Bannister of Coolah Creek
Once, and once alone, 'tis said,
Bent his knees and bowed his head,
Praying God to send him rain.
Sheep and cattle were to him
Pounds and pence in wool and hide —
That, and nothing more beside;
Gain, and gain alone, he sought —
Bought and sold, and sold and bought —
Bannister, the shrewd and grim!
Drought might slay his neighbour's sheep,
Leave his friends with stricken lands,
Starving stock and empty hands,
Driving them to ruin's brink;
Not by so much as a wink
Did it cause him loss of sleep.
Loving neither man nor maid,
Man and maid no pity showed
When the Drought, red-handed, strode
Through the land, and spared him not;
Then it was, by all forgot,
Bannister knelt down and prayed.
Hands entreatingly out-thrown,
Head and shoulders bowed with care,
Bannister sent up his prayer;
Did that prayer include a friend?
Nay; but selfish to the end
For himself he prayed alone.
Scarce a stone's-throw from his door
Coolah Creek, dry-bedded, lay
Day and night, and night and day
Staring skyward, stark and dumb;
In its single river-gum
Sang the shepherd-bird no more.
Praying long and low, there ran
Through his mind a vision sweet —
Waters singing at his feet;
And his words a torrent poured:
'Open Thou Thy floodgates, Lord,
Lest I be a ruined man!'
Then he rose and sought his bed,
Sighing as he sank to sleep,
While, without, his famished sheep
In the darkness moaned their woe,
And his cattle, lowing low,
Sagged with droop of eye and head.
Dreams were his with splendour lit,
Happy dreams of days to be:
While his prayer limped leadenly
Through cold spaces, drear and lone,
Till, at last, it reached God's throne,
And God, bending, answered it.
Hot and still the darkness was,
Hushed and hot the midnight air.
Drought and death were everywhere,
Thirst and hunger, pain and grief:
Stirless hung the wilted leaf,
Motionless the brittle grass.
Mercy, pity seemed aloof,
God remote and cold to man,
When a whispering began —
And the sleeper woke to hear,
Low at first, then loud and clear,
Raindrops drumming on his roof.
Little things began to stir,
Little voices filled the night —
Whispers, murmurings of delight,
Till the torrent drowned them all
In the thunder of its fall . . .
God had answered Bannister!
Thinking thus his troubles o'er,
Pleased with God, he slept again;
Bannister, unloved of men,
Loved of God most surely seemed.
Coolah Creek, awakened, streamed
Scarce a stone's-throw from his door.
Dreaming dreams of gain anew,
Bannister reposed at ease,
Hearing but sweet melodies,
Free of loss and free of pain.
Gorged and swollen by the rain,
Coolah Creek a giant grew.
Foam upon its torrent swept,
Leaf and limb went down its flood;
Like a beast athirst for blood
Through the dark it ramped and raged;
Like a lion long encaged,
Free at last, it roared and leapt;
Then it burst its banks, and broke
Bar and barrier in its path
Shouting, foaming in its wrath . . .
Dreaming dreams of golden gain,
Hides and tallow, wool and grain.
Bannister too late awoke.
Never more to speak and stir,
Never more to strive and hoard —
Self, and self alone, his lord —
Veins no more with life aglow,
Body washing to and fro —
God had answered Bannister!
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dont Go In The Basement
Oh..
You can tell a dirty story
In the old conservatory...
But dont go in the basement!
You can make a scene
On the mezanene
But dont go in the basement!
You can fill yourself with static
With the ghosts up in the attic
But dont go in the basement!
You can light yourself a torch
On the old front porch
But dont go in the basement!
Oh you may think that its real cool
To ride down the bannister like some darn fool
Oh dont go... dont go!!
Dont go in the basement!
You can feel quite aloof
Playing rummy on the roof
But dont go in the basement!
Where the cockroaches dance
You can wallow in romance
But dont go in the basement!
You may think that its deluxe
To ride the bannister filled with rust
Oh dont go, dont go!
Dont go in the basement!!!!
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time's Legacy
The night so long to Grief,
The day to Joy so brief,
What shall Eternity
To each, unaltered, be!
poem by John Bannister Tabb
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The New-Year Babe
Two together, Babe and Year,
At the midnight chime,
Through the darkness drifted here
To the coast of Time.
Two together, Babe and Year,
Over night and day,
Crossed the desert Winter drear
To the land of May.
On together, Babe and Year
Swift to Summer passed.
'Rest a moment, Brother dear,'
Said the Babe at last.
'Nay, but onward,' answered Year,
'We must farther go,
Through the Vale of Autumn sere
To the Mount of Snow.'
Toiling upward, Babe and Year
Climbed the frozen height.
'We may rest together here,
Brother Babe,-Good-night!'
Then together Babe and Year
Slept; but ere the dawn,
Vanishing, I know not where,
Brother Year was gone!
poem by John Bannister Tabb
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Athletics is a luxury.
quote by Roger Bannister
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What do we live for if not to make life less difficult for each other
quote by Roger Bannister
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I enjoy singing, and the instruments which truly move me are the horn, the trumpet and the cello.
quote by Roger Bannister
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The man who can drive himself further once the effort gets painful is the man who will win.
quote by Roger Bannister
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was always a great bundle of energy. As a child, instead of walking, I would run. And so running, which is a pain to a lot of people, was always a pleasure to me because it was so easy.
quote by Roger Bannister
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Disconcerted Concert
Bull father frog
Was on the log,
While many a little fellow
Around the pool
Upon his stool
Sat learning how to bellow.
A turtle near,
Whom all did fear,-
An enemy to noises-
His head upsent,
And down they went
To drown, alas, their voices.
poem by John Bannister Tabb
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In Chicago
Of forthcoming weather no prophet have they,
For the ground hog is there to be seen every day.
poem by John Bannister Tabb
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It had always been a British preoccupation to hold this mile record.
quote by Roger Bannister
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If there was the opportunity to climb a mountain, or to go ballooning, or some adventurous activity, I would always be keen to do it. I loved the countryside.
quote by Roger Bannister
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Half-Ring Moon
Over the sea, over the sea,
My love he is gone to a far countrie;
But he brake a golden ring with me
The pledge of his faith to be.
Over the sea, over the sea,
He comes no more from the far countrie;
But at night, where the new moon loved to be,
Hangs the half of a ring for me.
poem by John Bannister Tabb
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I've always been very impatient. At age 10 I frankly found life boring, and I can remember age 9 having the awful thought, as it seems now looking back on it, A war! That should liven things up a bit!
quote by Roger Bannister
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grief-Song
New grief, new tears;-
Brief the reign of sorrow;
Clouds that gather with the night
Scatter on the morrow.
Old grief, old tears;-
Come and gone together;
Not a fleck upon the sky
Telling whence or whither.
Old grief, new tears;-
Deep to deep is calling:
Life is but a passing cloud
Whence the rain is falling.
poem by John Bannister Tabb
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The Morning Star
The latest beacon spark
Upon the western way
To guide thro' shallowing dark
The silver sails of Day.
poem by John Bannister Tabb
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My athleticism was really the core to social acceptance, because in those days the overwhelming number of students came from more of a public school background than I did.
quote by Roger Bannister
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I raced supremely well. I felt I was as well fitted to do it as I had ever been, and as perhaps I might ever be. I went climbing three weeks before, because I was feeling fed up with running.
quote by Roger Bannister
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My family actually lived in the same village for about 400 years. They had great stability until the last century. People lived and intermarried in small villages.
quote by Roger Bannister
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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