Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 41
Iskandur Rumi, having been asked how he had conquered the east and the west, considering that the treasures, territories, reigns and armies of former kings exceeded his own and they had not gained such a victory, replied: "Whatever country I conquered by the aid of God the most high, I abstained from distressing its population and spoke nothing but good of the king."
The intelligent will not call him great
Who speaks ill of the great.
All this is nothing as it passes away:
Throne and luck, command and prohibition, taking and giving.
Injure not the name of those who have passed away
In order that thy own name may subsist.
Related quotes
Limitations
"Who are these blokes with bulging brows
I see all o'er the shop?"
The layman asked. "Them's scientists,"
Replied the courteous cop.
"They are the country's biggest brains;
There's nothing they don't know
The ways of stars, the eight of suns,
And why the winds do blow."
"Then think you they could cure this cold
That leaves me leaden-eyed?"
"Well - no; they ain't quite up to that,"
The constable replied.
"But they could take a man apart
And sew him up again
As good as new; they know how trees
Grow from a tiny grain.
And they can harness wireless waves
And make hem do their will,
Or split an atom bang in two,
Or cleave a mighty hill."
"But could they make this north wind change
A point to east or west?"
"Well, no," the cop replied; "not yet.
That's far too stiff a test,
"But they can cause electric eyes
To shut and open doors,
Or answer telephones, or guide
A great ship from the shores.
Their ‘ographies' and ‘ologies'
And wonders that they plan,
To shove ahead this human race
Do fair amaze a man.
Why they'll have television soon,
Or so I've heard or read."
"And will that make man happier?"
The simple layman said.
"Tho' most amazing, as you say,
The things they do and know,
They cannot make the rain to fall
Or cause the breeze to blow.
They cannot build one blade of grass,
Or read a flapper's mind;
That collar stud I dropped this morn
I'll swear they could not find!... "
"Move on, there!" cried the constable
These ain't things for a joke.
Upon my word, I never see
So iggnerint a bloke!"
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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A.d.d
She told me that she had A.D.D
I asked her what was one plus two, she said: "three"
I was so impressed that I asked her again
What was seven plus three, and she said: "ten"
I asked her more additions and she got them all correct
She was very intelligent by what I could detect
Then as I tried to talk to her more, but she got distracted
I then tried to get her attention then she overreacted
She then told me something that threw me for a shock
Her having A.D.D, wasn't what I had thought
She could add quickly and correctly which was true
But paying attention to others she could not do
She was easily distracted from the projects she was on
And also forgetful from the tasks she's undergone
She said she is sometimes forgetful from day to day
Then she looked at me and asked; "what did I say? "
I asked her some more questions and she never listened
So I spoke directly to her, and her eyes they glistened
She spoke to me, then she called me someone else's name
"And I don't like to follow instructions! " to me she did exclaim
"I won't finish my work or duties or chores and I never will"
"Only thing that helps me, if and when I take a small pill"
"I will avoid the things that will take a lot of mental strain"
"As this is who I am, and my thoughts and my brain"
Then I asked her what was one plus one and she said: "two"
She then looked at me and walked away, and said: "adieu."
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 30
A padshah having issued orders to kill an innocent man, the latter said: ‘"O king, seek not thine own injury on account of the anger thou bearest towards me." He asked: "How?" The man replied: "This punishment will abide with me one moment but the sin of it for ever with thee."
The period of life has passed away like the desert wind.
Bitter and sweet, ugliness and beauty have passed away.
The tyrant fanded he had done injury to us.
It remained on his neck and passed away from us.
This admonition having taken effect, the king spared his blood.
Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 21
It is narrated that an oppressor of the people, a soldier, hit the head of a pious man with a stone and that the dervish, having no means of taking vengeance, preserved the stone till the time arrived when the king became angry with that soldier, and imprisoned him in a well. Then the dervish made his appearance and dropped the stone upon his head. He asked: "Who art thou, and why hast thou hit my head with this stone?" The man replied: "I am the same person whom thou hast struck on the head with this stone on such and such a day." The soldier continued: "Where hast thou been all this time?" The dervish replied: "I was afraid of thy dignity but now when I beheld thee in the well I made use of the opportunity."’
When thou seest an unworthy man in good luck
Intelligent men have chosen submission.
If thou hast not a tearing sharp nail
It will be better not to contend with the wicked.
Who grasps with his fist one who has an arm of steel
Injures only his own powerless wrist.
Wait till inconstant fortune ties his hand.
Then, to please thy friends, pick out his brains.
The King's Breakfast
The King's Breakfast
The King asked
The Queen, and
The Queen asked
The Dairymaid:
"Could we have some butter for
The Royal slice of bread?"
The Queen asked the Dairymaid,
The Dairymaid
Said, "Certainly,
I'll go and tell the cow
Now
Before she goes to bed."
The Dairymaid
She curtsied,
And went and told
The Alderney:
"Don't forget the butter for
The Royal slice of bread."
The Alderney
Said sleepily:
"You'd better tell
His Majesty
That many people nowadays
Like marmalade
Instead."
The Dairymaid
Said, "Fancy!"
And went to
Her Majesty.
She curtsied to the Queen, and
She turned a little red:
"Excuse me,
Your Majesty,
For taking of
The liberty,
But marmalade is tasty, if
It's very
Thickly
Spread."
The Queen said
"Oh!:
And went to
His Majesty:
"Talking of the butter for
The royal slice of bread,
Many people
Think that
Marmalade
Is nicer.
Would you like to try a little
Marmalade
Instead?"
The King said,
"Bother!"
And then he said,
"Oh, deary me!"
The King sobbed, "Oh, deary me!"
And went back to bed.
"Nobody,"
He whimpered,
"Could call me
A fussy man;
I only want
A little bit
Of butter for
My bread!"
The Queen said,
"There, there!"
And went to
The Dairymaid.
The Dairymaid
Said, "There, there!"
And went to the shed.
The cow said,
"There, there!
I didn't really
Mean it;
Here's milk for his porringer,
And butter for his bread."
The Queen took
The butter
And brought it to
His Majesty;
The King said,
"Butter, eh?"
And bounced out of bed.
"Nobody," he said,
As he kissed her
Tenderly,
"Nobody," he said,
As he slid down the banisters,
"Nobody,
My darling,
Could call me
A fussy man -
BUT
I do like a little bit of butter to my bread!"
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 12
An unjust king asked a devotee what kind of worship is best? He replied: "For thee the best is to sleep one half of the day so as not to injure the people for a while."
I saw a tyrant sleeping half the day.
I said: "This confusion, if sleep removes it, so much the better;
But he whose sleep is better than his wakefulness
Is better dead than leading such a bad life."
Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 28
A solitary dervish was sitting in a corner of the desert when a padshah happened to pass by but, ease having made him independent, he took no notice. The sultan, in conformity with his royal dignity, became angry and said: "This tribe of rag-wearers resembles beasts."’ The vezier said: "The padshah of the surface of the earth has passed near thee. Why hast thou not paid homage and shown good manners?" He replied: "Tell the king to look for homage from a man who expects benefits from him and also that kings exist for protecting subjects and subjects not for obeying kings."
The padshah is the guardian of the dervish
Although wealth is in the glory of his reign.
The sheep is not for the shepherd
But the shepherd for the service of it.
Today thou beholdest one man prosperous
And another whose heart is wounded by struggling.
Wait a few days till the earth consumes
The brain in the head of the visionary.
Distinction between king and slave has ceased
When the decree of fate overtakes them.
If a man were to open the tombs of the dead
He would not distinguish a rich from a poor man.
The king, who was pleased with the sentiments of the dervish, asked him to make a request but he answered that the only one he had to make was to be left alone. The king then asked for advice and the dervish said:
"Understand now while wealth is in thy hand
That fortune and kingdom will leave thy hand."
An Adventure in the Life of King James V of Scotland
On one occasion King James the Fifth of Scotland, when alone, in disguise,
Near by the Bridge of Cramond met with rather a disagreeable surprise.
He was attacked by five gipsy men without uttering a word,
But he manfully defended himself with his sword.
There chanced to be a poor man threshing corn in a barn near by,
Who came out on hearing the noise so high;
And seeing one man defending himself so gallantly,
That he attacked the gipsies with his flail, and made them flee.
Then he took the King into the barn,
Saying, "I hope, sir, you've met with no great harm;
And for five men to attack you, it's a disgrace;
But stay, I'll fetch a towel and water to wash your face."
And when the King washed the blood off his face and hands,
"Now, sir, I wish to know who you are," the King demands.
"My name, sir, is John Howieson, a bondsman on the farm of Braehead."
"Oh, well," replied the King, "your company I need not dread."
"And perhaps you'll accompany me a little way towards Edinburgh,
Because at present I'm not free from sorrow.
And if you have any particular wish to have gratified,
Let me know it, and it shall not be denied."
Then honest John said, thinking it no harm,
"Sir, I would like to be the owner of Braehead farm;
But by letting me know who you are it would give my mind relief."
Then King James he answered that he was the Gudeman of Ballingeich.
"And if you'll meet me at the palace on next Sunday,
Believe me, for your manful assistance, I'll you repay.
Nay, honest John, don't think of you I'm making sport,
I pledge my word at least you shall see the royal court."
So on the next Sunday John put on his best clothes,
And appeared at the palace gate as~you may suppose.
And he inquired for the Gudeman of Ballingeich;
And when he gained admittance his heart was freed from grief.
For John soon found his friend the Gudeman,
And the King took John by the han',
Then conducted John from one apartment to another,
Just as kindly as if he'd been his own brother.
Then the King asked John if he'd like to see His Majesty.
"Oh, yes," replied John, "His Majesty I would really like to see."
And John looked earnestly into the King's face,
And said, "How am I to know His Grace?"
"Oh, John, you needn't be the least annoyed about that,
For all heads will be uncovered: the King will wear his hat."
Then he conducted John into a large hall,
Which was filled by the nobility, crown officers, and all.
Then said John to the King, when he looked round the room,
"Sir, I hope I will see the King very soon."
Because to see the King, John rather dreaded,
At last he said to the King, "'Tis you! the rest are bare-headed."
Then the King said, "John, I give you Braehead farm as it stands,
On condition you provide a towel and basin of water to wash my hands,
If ever I chance to come your way.
Then John said, "Thanks to your Majesty, I'll willingly obey."
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 31
The veziers of Nushirvan happened to discuss an important affair of state, each giving his opinion according to his knowledge. The king likewise gave his opinion and Barzachumihr concurred with it. Afterwards the veziers secretly asked him: "What superiority hast thou discovered in the opinion of the king above so many other reflections of wise men?" The philosopher replied: "Since the termination of the affair is unknown and it depends upon the will of God whether the opinion of the others will turn out right or wrong, it was better to agree with the opinion of the king so that, if it should turn out to have been wrong, we may, on account of having followed it, remain free from blame."
To proffer an opinion contrary to the king’s
Means to wash the hands in one’s own blood.
Should he in plain day say it is night,
It is meet to shout: "Lo, the moon and the pleiads!"
A Domestic Tragedy
Clorinda met me on the way
As I came from the train;
Her face was anything but gay,
In fact, suggested pain.
"Oh hubby, hubby dear!" she cried,
"I've awful news to tell. . . ."
"What is it, darling?" I replied;
"Your mother -- is she well?"
"Oh no! oh no! it is not that,
It's something else," she wailed,
My heart was beating pit-a-pat,
My ruddy visage paled.
Like lightning flash in heaven's dome
The fear within me woke:
"Don't say," I cried, "our little home
Has all gone up in smoke!"
She shook her head. Oh, swift I clasped
And held her to my breast;
"The children! Tell me quick," I gasped,
"Believe me, it is best."
Then, then she spoke; 'mid sobs I caught
These words of woe divine:
"It's coo-coo-cook has gone and bought
A new hat just like mine."
poem by Robert William Service
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Hymn 4 part 1
The nativity of Christ.
Luke 2:10ff
"Shepherds, rejoice! lift up your eyes,
And send your fears away;
News from the regions of the skies,
Salvation's born to-day.
"Jesus, the God whom angels fear,
Comes down to dwell with you;
Today he makes his entrance here,
But not as monarchs do.
"No gold nor purple swaddling bands.
Nor royal shining things;
A manger for his Cradle stands,
And holds the King of kings.
"Go, shepherds, where the infant lies,
And see his humble throne
With tears of joy in all your eyes,
Go, shepherds, kiss the Son."
Thus Gabriel sang, and straight around
The heav'nly armies throng;
They tune their harps to lofty sound,
And thus conclude the song:
"Glory to God that reigns above!
Let peace surround the earth!
Mortals shall know their Maker's love,
At their Redeemer's birth."
Lord, and shall angels have their songs,
And men no tunes to raise?
O may we lose our useless tongues
When they forget to praise.
Glory to God that reigns above,
That pitied us forlorn;
We join to sing our Maker's love,
For there's a Savior born.
poem by Isaac Watts
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T.y.s.o.n.
Across the Queensland border line
The mobs of cattle go;
They travel down in sun and shine
On dusty stage, and slow.
The drovers, riding slowly on
To let the cattle spread,
Will say: "Here's one old landmark gone,
For old man Tyson's dead."
What tales there'll be in every camp
By men that Tyson knew!
The swagmen, meeting on the tramp,
Will yarn the long day through,
And tell of how he passed as "Brown",
And fooled the local men:
"But not for me -- I struck the town,
And passed the message further down;
That's T.Y.S.O.N.!"
There stands a little country town
Beyond the border line,
Where dusty roads go up and down,
And banks with pubs combine.
A stranger came to cash a cheque --
Few were the words he said --
A handkerchief about his neck,
An old hat on his head.
A long grey stranger, eagle-eyed --
"Know me? Of course you do?"
"It's not my work," the boss replied,
"To know such tramps as you."
"Well, look here, Mister, don't be flash,"
Replied the stranger then,
"I never care to make a splash,
I'm simple, but I've got the cash;
I'm T.Y.S.O.N."
But in that last great drafting-yard,
Where Peter keeps the gate,
And souls of sinners find it barred,
And go to meet their fate,
There's one who ought to enter in
For good deeds done on earth,
One who from Peter's self must win
That meed of sterling worth.
Not to the strait and narrow gate
Reserved for wealthy men,
But to the big gate, opened wide,
The grizzled figure, eagle-eyed,
Will saunter up -- and then
Old Peter'll say: "Let's pass him through;
There's many a thing he used to do,
Good-hearted things that no one knew;
That's T.Y.S.O.N."
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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In The Moonlight
"O lonely workman, standing there
In a dream, why do you stare and stare
At her grave, as no other grave where there?"
"If your great gaunt eyes so importune
Her soul by the shine of this corpse-cold moon,
Maybe you'll raise her phantom soon!"
"Why, fool, it is what I would rather see
Than all the living folk there be;
But alas, there is no such joy for me!"
"Ah - she was one you loved, no doubt,
Through good and evil, through rain and drought,
And when she passed, all your sun went out?"
"Nay: she was the woman I did not love,
Whom all the other were ranked above,
Whom during her life I thought nothing of."
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Dependence
To keep the lamp alive,
With oil we fill the bowl;
'Tis water makes the willow thrive,
And grace that feeds the soul.
The Lord's unsparing hand
Supplies the living stream;
It is not at our own command,
But still derived from Him.
Beware of Peter's word,
Nor confidently say,
"I never will deny Thee, Lord," --
But, -- "Grant I never may."
Man's wisdom is to seek
His strength in God alone;
And e'en an angel would be weak,
Who trusted in his own.
Retreat beneath his wings,
And in His gace confide!
This more exalts the King of kings
Than all your works beside.
In Jesus is our store,
Grace issues from His throne;
Whoever says, "I want no more,"
Confesses he has done.
poem by William Cowper
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Another Acrostic ( In the style of Father William )
"Are you deaf, Father William!" the young man said,
"Did you hear what I told you just now?
"Excuse me for shouting! Don't waggle your head
"Like a blundering, sleepy old cow!
"A little maid dwelling in Wallington Town,
"Is my friend, so I beg to remark:
"Do you think she'd be pleased if a book were sent down
"Entitled 'The Hunt of the Snark?'"
"Pack it up in brown paper!" the old man cried,
"And seal it with olive-and-dove.
"I command you to do it!" he added with pride,
"Nor forget, my good fellow to send her beside
"Easter Greetings, and give her my love."
poem by Lewis Carroll
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You Are Old Father William
"You are old, father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head --
Do you think, at your age, it is right?
"In my youth," father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."
"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
And you have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door --
Pray what is the reason for that?"
"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment -- one shilling a box --
Allow me to sell you a couple?"
"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak --
Pray, how did you mange to do it?"
"In my youth," said his fater, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life."
"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as every;
Yet you balanced an eel on the tend of your nose --
What made you so awfully clever?"
"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father. "Don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs.
poem by Lewis Carroll
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The Ruined Maid
"O 'Melia, my dear, this does everything crown!
Who could have supposed I should meet you in Town?
And whence such fair garments, such prosperi-ty?"-
"O didn't you know I'd been ruined?" said she.
-"You left us in tatters, without shoes or socks,
Tired of digging potatoes, and spudding up docks;
And now you've gay bracelets and bright feathers three!"-
"Yes: that's how we dress when we're ruined," said she.
-"At home in the barton you said 'thee' and 'thou,'
And 'thik oon' and 'theäs oon' and 't'other'; but now
Your talking quite fits 'ee for high compan-ny!"-
"Some polish is gained with one's ruin," said she.
-"Your hands were like paws then, you face blue and bleak
But now I'm bewitched by your delicate cheek,
And your little gloves fit as on any la-dy!"-
"We never do work when we're ruined," said she.
-"You used to call home-life a hag-ridden dream,
And you'd sigh, and you'd sock; but at present you seem
To know not of megrims or melancho-ly!"-
"True. One's pretty lively when ruined," said she.
-"I wish I had feathers, a fine sweeping gown,
And a delicate face, and could strut about Town"-
"My dear - raw country girl, such as you be,
Cannot quite expect that. You ain't ruined," said she.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Revolt In The Ranks
I have just spent one-hour-and-a-half
handicapping tomorrow's
card.
when am I going to get at the poems?
well, they'll just have to wait
they'll have to warm their feet in the
anteroom
where they'll sit gossiping about
me.
"this Chinaski, doesn't he realize that
without us he would have long ago
gone mad, been dead?"
"he knows, but he thinks he can keep
us at his beck and call!"
"he's an ingrate!"
"let's give him writer's block!"
"yeah!"
"yeah!& quot;
"yeah!"
the little poems kick up their heels
and laugh.
then the biggest one gets up and
walks toward the door.
"hey, where are you going?" he is
asked.
"somewhere where I am
appreciated."
then, he
and the others
vanish.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Sonnet V: Nothing But No
Nothing but "No," and "Aye," and "Aye," and "No"?
How falls it out so strangely you reply?
I tell ye, Fair, I'll not be answer'd so,
With this affirming "No," denying "Aye."
I say, "I love," you slightly answer "Aye";
I say, "You love," you pule me out a "No";
I say, "I die," you echo me an "Aye";
"Save me," I cry, you sigh me out a "No";
Must woe and I have nought but "No" and "Aye"?
No I am I, if I no more can have;
Answer no more, with silence make reply,
And let me take myself what I do crave.
Let "No" and "Aye" with I and you be so;
Then answer "No," and "Aye," and "Aye" and "No."
poem by Michael Drayton
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Four Winds
"Four winds blowing through the sky,
You have seen poor maidens die,
Tell me then what I shall do
That my lover may be true."
Said the wind from out the south,
"Lay no kiss upon his mouth,"
And the wind from out the west,
"Wound the heart within his breast,"
And the wind from out the east,
"Send him empty from the feast,"
And the wind from out the north,
"In the tempest thrust him forth;
When thou art more cruel than he,
Then will Love be kind to thee."
poem by Sara Teasdale
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