Ch 08 On Rules For Conduct In Life - Maxim 21
Whatever takes place quickly is not permanent.
I have heard that eastern loam is made
In forty days into a porcelain cup.
A hundred are daily made in Baghdad.
Hence thou seest also their price is vile.
A little fowl issues from the egg and seeks food
Whilst man’s progeny has no knowledge, sense or discernment.
Nevertheless the former attains nothing when grown up
Whilst the latter surpasses all beings in dignity and excellence.
Glass is everywhere, and therefore of no account,
But a ruby difficult to get, and therefore precious.
Related quotes
Elegy:The End of Funeral Elegies
MADAM—
That I might make your cabinet my tomb,
And for my fame, which I love next my soul,
Next to my soul provide the happiest room,
Admit to that place this last funeral scroll.
Others by wills give legacies, but I
Dying, of you do beg a legacy.
My fortune and my will this custom break,
When we are senseless grown to make stones speak,
Though no stone tell thee what I was, yet thou
In my grave's inside seest what thou art now,
Yet thou 'rt not yet so good ; till death us lay
To ripe and mellow there, we're stubborn clay.
Parents make us earth, and souls dignify
Us to be glass ; here to grow gold we lie.
Whilst in our souls sin bred and pamper'd is,
Our souls become worm-eaten carcases.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet XL: But Love
But love whilst that thou mayst be lov'd again,
Now whilst thy May hath fill'd thy lap with flowers;
Now, whilst thy beauty bears without a stain,
Now use thy Summer smiles ere Winter lours.
And whilst thou spread'st unto the rising sun,
The fairest flower that ever saw the light,
Now joy thy time before thy sweet be done;
And, Delia, think thy morning must have night,
And that thy brightness sets at length to west,
When thou wilt close up that which now thou showest,
And think the same becomes thy fading best
Which then shall hide it most and cover lowest.
Men do not weigh the stalk for that it was;
When once they find her flower, her glory pass.
poem by Samuel Daniel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Insult or Compliment?
Thou art the merest popinjay.
A beardless boy not yet a man,
go to thou fool and go thy way.
Go quickly whilst thou still can.
Should my good husband take offence
then he would surely challenge thee.
I would not speak in thy defence
for thy pretensions annoy me.
I’m old enough to be thy dam
I don’t indulge in dalliance,
Methinks thy bravo is all sham.
Get hence, whilst thou still hath the chance.
The youth withdrew a chastened child.
When he had gone the lady smiled.
24-Dec-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dignity
Dignity is what we want,
As human beings on this earth;
Dignity is what we can’t,
Give up anyway since birth.
Dignity is innate right,
God has bestowed man, He made;
Dignity is cause to fight
When employees get under-paid.
Dignity, all need always
At home, at school and one’s work-place;
Dignity for human race,
Men must guarantee all days.
Dignity in livelihood,
Receive should all citizens;
Dignity in dying too,
World must assure everyone.
Dignity is what we need
In life on earth and when we die;
Dignity is good indeed
For creatures born under the sky.
Dignity for man and beast
Is a must for all, west / east;
Dignity for anyone
Shouldn’t be denied, any time!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-26-2006
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Each To His Own
Nothing can be permanent
Nothing set in stone
Never try to fool yourself
That you are not alone
Know your place dont chance your arm
Your secrets are all known
Never cross the great divide
Each to his own
Dont misunderstand me, dont be hurt, dont take offence
But what I am about to tell you makes a lot of sense
Ive been more than happy with you, loved you as you are
But being happy only takes a restless heart so far
Be thankful for the past but know those times wont come again
I found you quite diverting, even tender now and then
Remember I will always be the first to sing your praise
But I must close the book on our adolescent days
Nothing can be permanent
Nothing set in stone
Never try to fool yourself
That you are not alone
Know your place dont chance your arm
Your secrets are all known
Never cross the great divide
Each to his own
Did you really think wed never drift apart?
That wed decay together in some endless heart to heart
Did you never realise that we are not the same?
We are made what we are made - you are not to blame
Nothing can be permanent
Nothing set in stone
Never try to fool yourself
That you are not alone
Know your place dont chance your arm
Your secrets are all known
Never cross the great divide
Each to his own
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Ch 03 On The Excellence Of Contentment Story 22
I met a trader who possessed one hundred and fifty camel loads of merchandise with forty slaves and servants. One evening in the oasis of Kish he took me into his apartment and taking all night no rest kept up an incoherent gabble, saying: ‘I have such and such a warehouse in Turkestan, such and such goods in Hindostan; this is the title-deed of such and such an estate and in this affair such and such a man is security.’ He said: ‘I intend to go to Alexandria because it has a good climate’, and correcting himself continued: ‘No, because the African sea is boisterous. O Sa’di, I have one journey more to undertake and after performing it I shall during the rest of my life sit in a corner and enjoy contentment.’ I asked: ‘What journey is that?’ He replied: ‘I shall carry Persian brimstone to China because I heard that it fetched a high price. I shall also carry Chinese porcelain to Rum and Rumi brocade to India and Indian steel to Aleppo, convey glass-ware of Aleppo to Yemen, striped cloth of Yemen to Pares. After that I shall abandon trading and shall sit down in a shop.’ He had talked so much of this nonsenses that no more strength remained in him so he said: ‘O Sa’di, do thou also tell me something of what thou hast seen and heard.’ I recited:
‘Thou mayest have heard that in the plain of Ghur
Once a leader fell down from his beast of burden,
Saying: “The narrow eye of a wealthy man
Will be filled either by content or by the earth of the tomb.”’
The Battle is on Earth, , ,
The Battle is on earth,
The Battle is on Earth,
I SEE the Living Man,
Ofcourse Mankind is Blessed from the Instinct of a Living Beauty,
On Earth,
Mankind came for Redemption,
Whilst a Blessed Man gave a Covenant unto God,
That the Beauty of the Image is from the Living Man and not the Dead,
I spit the Beauty of Unfeigned Verses,
Whilst other part of Mankind hate and I see no Change,
A Spiritual Creature called Man gave no Limits to have Knowledge,
Whilst Racism made Mankind Unjust,
Ruin the Earthly Kingdom in Lies and other Lies.
poem by Abdul Karim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Battle is on Earth,
The Battle is on earth,
The Battle is on Earth,
I SEE the Living Man,
Ofcourse Mankind is Blessed from the Instinct of a Living Beauty,
On Earth,
Mankind came for Redemption,
Whilst a Blessed Man gave a Covenant unto God,
That the Beauty of the Image is from the Living Man and not the Dead,
I spit the Beauty of Unfeigned Verses,
Whilst other part of Mankind hate and I see no Change,
A Spiritual Creature called Man gave no Limits to have Knowledge,
Whilst Racism made Mankind Unjust,
Ruin the Earthly Kingdom in Lies and other Lies.
poem by Abdul Karim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet- My Ultimate Wish?
Could I not spend my days talking to God?
My precious time is spent in daily food;
If all spend lives holy, it will look odd;
Man's knowledge of the Divine is so crude.
Could I not spend my days walking with God?
What earthly work we do to save this frame!
Why do we hanker for earthly reward?
We waste God's time in sin without much shame.
Could I not spend my days thinking of God?
My thoughts are just on things of earthly mould;
Oh, how we wish that human beings laud?
Yet, without God, our hearts and souls grow cold.
Oh, how I wish I had more time for God!
Whose love for man comes with a kindly rod.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mutability - II.
I.
The flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow dies;
All that we wish to stay
Tempts and then flies.
What is this world’s delight?
Lightning that mocks the night,
Brief even as bright.
II.
Virtue, how frail it is!
Friendship how rare!
Love, how it sells poor bliss
For proud despair!
But we, though soon they fall,
Survive their joy, and all
Which ours we call.
III.
Whilst skies are blue and bright,
Whilst flowers are gay,
Whilst eyes that change ere night
Make glad the day;
Whilst yet the calm hours creep,
Dream thou—and from thy sleep
Then wake to weep.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My suicide bride
My suicide bride
I know I have no chance,
for you have made your choice.
I saw your nod dance.
you hear…its sultry voice,
whilst riding the white pony.
Sure to bronco with its hex,
I tell you, “The dragon is a phony”.
My horror… rather complex.
I curse this disease so feeble,
but just made it worst.
I should have known the needle…
…would always come first.
I tried to make you stop,
whilst with a cotton, you're cookin'.
Now, like a dirty wasted mop…
… I’m on the outside, in-lookin’,
to the curb is how I got burned.
but you won’t let me go,
how sad this marriage has turned
our anniversary… this final act of the show.
This World is crucial,
This World,
This World is all crucial crucial,
This time's are harder,
Every breathe,
I can see my own graffiti,
That this world is in turmoil,
We create false and say true,
All I see is not good in killing burdens,
There are many idiots out there that can ruin,
Maybe I can compose another thought from own earthly spirits,
It's us who made this world,
Whilst we deny deny being laced up by true knowledge,
Whilst we deny the New World.
poem by Maxpoet Beauty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mountain's grief
Have I ever wept on a mountain's grief?
The sadness so profound, yet so majestic
That thy strongest heart bore since thou wert born
What is so immortal in a grief that finds a spring to express?
Just a solace, an easing out of a pine
The greatest grief in this world
is sculptured on you
So thou stands still, watching forever
Whilst the rest of the world weep
So the river floats on God's tears
Whilst He mourns on thy grief
So the birds sing in melody
Whilst thy heart burns in pain
So the wild rains thunder
Whilst the saddest quake in your heart erupts
In a wave around all thy moist rocks
Copyright: Shamik Bose 2009
poem by Shamik Bose
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Dialogue Betwixt God And The Soul
Soul.
Whilst my Souls eye beheld no light
But what stream'd from thy gracious sight
To me the worlds greatest King,
Seem'd but some little vulgar thing.
God.
Whilst thou prov'dst pure; and that in thee
I could glass all my Deity;
How glad did I from Heaven depart,
To find a lodging in thy heart!
S. Now Fame and Greatness bear the sway,
('Tis they that hold my prisons Key):
For whom my soul would die, might she
Leave them her Immortalitie.
G. I, and some few pure Souls conspire,
And burn both in a mutual fire,
For whom I'd die once more, ere they
Should miss of Heavens eternal day.
S. But Lord! what if I turn again,
And with an adamantine chain,
Lock me to thee? What if I chase
The world away to give thee place?
G. Then though these souls in whom I joy
Are Seraphims, Thou but a toy,
A foolish toy, yet once more I
Would with thee live, and for thee die.
poem by Henry Wotton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet XLVIII: Cupid, I Hate Thee
Cupid, I hate thee, which I'd have thee know;
A naked starveling ever may'st thou be.
Poor rogue, go pawn thy fascia and thy bow
For some few rags wherewith to cover thee.
Or, if thou'lt not, thy archery forbear,
To some base rustic do thyself prefer,
And when corn's sown or grown into the ear,
Practise thy quiver and turn crow-keeper.
Or, being blind, as fittest for the trade,
Go hire thyself some bungling harper's boy;
They that are blind are often minstrels made;
So may'st thou live, to thy fair mother's joy,
That whilst with Mars she holdeth her old way,
Thou, her blind son, may'st sit by them and play.
poem by Michael Drayton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Consistent Excellence
Go...
Ask anyone of your neighbors,
How difficult it is...
To produce consistent excellence.
With a doing done you do,
To ensure your life...
Is lived to make sense.
With the best from yourself,
To show those your excellence...
Is not some luck that has been sent.
Your excellence is what is meant.
Go...
Ask anyone of your neighbors,
And when you are done...
Ask your friends and family too,
If consistent excellence with a bit of sweat...
Is something done you know they do,
For themselves.
And nothing from them to you to prove.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ruby
(mel tillis)
Youve painted up your lips an rolled and curled your tinted hair.
Ruby are you contemplating going out somewhere?
The shadow on the wall tells me the sun is going down -
Oh ruby
Dont take your love to town
Its hard to love a man whose legs are bent and paralysed
And the wants and the needs of a woman your age, ruby I realize,
But it wont be long Ive heard them say until I not around
Oh ruby
Dont take your love to town
It wasnt me that started that old crazy asian war
But I was proud to go and do my patriotic chore
And yes, its true that Im not the man I used to be...
Oh ruby
I still need some company.
Shes leavin now cause I heard the slammin iof the door
The way I know Ive heard it slam one hundred times before
And if I could move Id get my gun and put her in the ground
Oh ruby
For gods sake turn around
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Tree
Fair tree! for thy delightful shade
'Tis just that some return be made;
Sure some return is due from me
To thy cool shadows, and to thee.
When thou to birds dost shelter give,
Thou music dost from them receive;
If travellers beneath thee stay
Till storms have worn themselves away,
That time in praising thee they spend
And thy protecting pow'r commend.
The shepherd here, from scorching freed,
Tunes to thy dancing leaves his reed;
Whilst his lov'd nymph, in thanks, bestows
Her flow'ry chaplets on thy boughs.
Shall I then only silent be,
And no return be made by me?
No; let this wish upon thee wait,
And still to flourish be thy fate.
To future ages may'st thou stand
Untouch'd by the rash workman's hand,
Till that large stock of sap is spent,
Which gives thy summer's ornament;
Till the fierce winds, that vainly strive
To shock thy greatness whilst alive,
Shall on thy lifeless hour attend,
Prevent the axe, and grace thy end;
Their scatter'd strength together call
And to the clouds proclaim thy fall;
Who then their ev'ning dews may spare
When thou no longer art their care,
But shalt, like ancient heroes, burn,
And some bright hearth be made thy urn.
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Nightingale
As it fell upon a day
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of myrtles made,
Beasts did leap and birds did sing,
Trees did grow and plants did spring;
Every thing did banish moan,
Save the nightingale alone.
She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn
And there sung the doleful'st ditty,
That to hear it was great pity.
Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry,
Teru, teru, by and by;
That to hear her so complain,
Scarce I could from tears refrain;
For her griefs so lively shown
Made me think upon mine own.
Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain;
None takes pity on thy pain;
Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee;
Ruthless bears, they will not cheer thee;
King Pandion, he is dead,
All thy friends are lapp'd in lead;
All thy fellow birds do sing,
Careless of thy sorrowing;
Whilst as fickle fortune smil'd,
Thou and I were both beguil'd.
Every one that flatters thee
Is no friend in misery:
Words are easy, like the wind,
Faithful friends are hard to find;
Every man will be thy friend
Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend,
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want.
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call;
And with such-like flattering
Pity but he were a king.
If he be addict to vice,
Quickly him they will entice;
If to women he be bent,
They have at commandëment;
But if fortune once do frown,
Then farewell his great renown;
They that fawn'd on him before
Use his company no more.
He that is thy friend indeed
He will help thee in thy need:
If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If thou wake, he cannot sleep;
Thus of every grief, in heart,
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flatt'ring foe.
poem by Richard Barnfield
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An Ode
As it fell upon a day
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of myrtles made,
Beasts did leap and birds did sing,
Trees did grow and plants did spring;
Every thing did banish moan,
Save the nightingale alone.
She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn
And there sung the doleful'st ditty,
That to hear it was great pity.
Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry,
Teru, teru, by and by;
That to hear her so complain,
Scarce I could from tears refrain;
For her griefs so lively shown
Made me think upon mine own.
Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain;
None takes pity on thy pain;
Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee;
Ruthless bears, they will not cheer thee;
King Pandion, he is dead,
All thy friends are lapp'd in lead;
All thy fellow birds do sing,
Careless of thy sorrowing;
Whilst as fickle fortune smil'd,
Thou and I were both beguil'd.
Every one that flatters thee
Is no friend in misery:
Words are easy, like the wind,
Faithful friends are hard to find;
Every man will be thy friend
Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend,
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want.
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call;
And with such-like flattering
Pity but he were a king.
If he be addict to vice,
Quickly him they will entice;
If to women he be bent,
They have at commandëment;
But if fortune once do frown,
Then farewell his great renown;
They that fawn'd on him before
Use his company no more.
He that is thy friend indeed
He will help thee in thy need:
If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If thou wake, he cannot sleep;
Thus of every grief, in heart,
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flatt'ring foe.
poem by Richard Barnfield
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!