From Boethius: De Consolatione Philosophiae; Book II. Metre 2.
Though countless as the grains of sand
That roll at Eurus' loud command;
Though countless as the lamps of night
That glad us with vicarious light;
Fair plenty, gracious queen, should pour
The blessings of a golden shower,
Not all the gifts of fate combin'd
Would ease the hunger of the mind,
But swallowing call the mighty store,
Rapacity would call for more;
For still where wishes most abound
Unquench'd the thirst of gain is found;
In vain the shining gifts are sent,
For none are rich without content.
poem by Samuel Johnson
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I care for riches, to make gifts To friends, or lead a sick man back to health With ease and plenty. Else small aid is wealth For daily gladness once a man be done With hunger, rich and poor are all as one.
Yule Fever (With apologies to the King's Minstrel)
I must go down to the shops again, to the crowded shops go I
And all I have is a long list of the gifts that I must buy,
And a few bob in the old kick and a mere spot of credit;
For he'll trust me, so the boss said, but I hate the way he said it.
I must go down to the shops again, for the call of Christmastide
Is a stern call and a hard call that may not be denied.
And all I ask is a fair choice at reasonable prices
And a hard heart for bland blokes with blandishing devices.
I must go down to the shops again. There's gifts for Mum and Dad
And Jim's gift and Joe's gift and toy for Peter's lad.
Then all I want are gloves for Clare? And June? I'll send her roses,
And - who's next? The list says - I've lost it! Holy Moses!
But I must go down to the shops again, to the shops and the milling crowd
On a hot day and a fierce day when the skies know ne'er a cloud;
And all I ask is a fair spin 'mid the masses overheating
And the loud bawl of the bored babe, and the toy drums beating.
I must go down to the shops again, for I would be counted still
With the kind ./.. of the free hand in this season of goodwill;
And all I ask is a stout heart to carry on undaunted
While we scour town for the salt-pot that we know Aunt Annie wanted.
I must go down to the shops again, for they'll ply me, sure as fate
With the pink tie and the puce sock, and I must reciprocate.
But all I ask is a long seat when the weary trek is finished
And enough left for the Yule feast ere the bank-roll be dimished.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Old Dutch Love Song
I am not rich, and yet my wealth
Surpasseth human measure;
My store untold
Is not of gold
Nor any sordid treasure.
Let this one hoard his earthly pelf,
Another court ambition--
Not for a throne
Would I disown
My poor and proud condition!
The worldly gain achieved to-day
To-morrow may be flying--
The gifts of kings
Are fleeting things--
The gifts of love undying!
In her I love is all my wealth--
For her my sole endeavor;
No heart, I ween,
Hath fairer queen,
No liege such homage, ever!
poem by Eugene Field
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To The Right Honourable The Earl Of Orrery In Dublin
Let Others speak your Titles, and your Blood;
Accept from Me the glorious Name of Good.
This Honour only from fair Virtue springs,
Ennobles Slaves, adds Dignity to Kings.
O Born to shew Nobility design'd
Not to insult, but to protect Mankind!
Well you discern to spare, or to bestow;
Nor waste in Riot, what to Worth you owe.
Judgment your Bounty guides; and all agree,
'Tis Praise, 'tis Glory, to receive from Thee.
Gen'rous thy Gifts; but more thy matchless Art,
To spare the Blush, and doubly bind the Heart.
Tho' Fortune place me in a distant Scene;
And Mountains rise, and Oceans roll between;
O'er Mountains, Oceans, Gratitude conveys
The good Man's Act, and wide extends his Praise.
Strange! that your Judgment errs in this alone;
Barber you bless, yet hope your Gifts unknown.
'Tis Hers to bring each lovely Deed to Light,
And force unwilling Virtue to the Sight:
'Tis Hers, and 'tis Her Muse's greatest Pride,
A Favour never to forget, or hide.
Illustrious Youth! and let me style you Friend,
O look with Candor on the Lines I send!
Warm from the Heart my artless Numbers fall;
Nor wait Correctness, when your Virtues call.
Here, bless'd with all that human Life requires,
Superior to vain Fears, or low Desires;
In chearful Solitude, in studious Ease;
Careful my Conscience, and my God, to please;
I think on Thee, when Want, or Worth, implore;
And unrepining share my little Store.
So Stars attend the beauteous Queen of Night;
And faintly shine, not emulate her Light.
poem by Mary Barber
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Waiting for you
Waiting for you
Waiting by the strand of the sea, the sand
cold and wet, the moon in silence guards my path,
the wait is tedious and long for I feel is not in vain,
the tide was rising in a rather slow motion, I could
smell the scent of the ocean, a scent I can't see.
Countless of stars in the sky each with a unique gallant,
the air fondly indulged my face, and a tranquil
feeling drew me to a state of peace, a cadence voice
singing like angels in the wind. A thousand years may
pass me by, counting the grains of sand, endless till
I fade away with them, I'll walk the shore with freezing
toes, with no hands to hold me warm. I'm still here near
the moon, near the waves that call your name,
they hear my heart, they keep the secret I pour in tears,
I wait here still and weary with my head up with a
little left of my happy heart…
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Mystical Rose, Pray For Us!
O aptly named, Illustrious One!
Thou art that flower fair
That filled this vast and changeful world
With mystic perfume rare—
Shedding on all the balmy breath
Of countless virtues high,
Rising like fragrant odours rich,
To God’s far, beauteous sky.
Mystical Rose! O aptly named!
For, as ’mid brightest flowers
The lovely Rose unquestioned reigns
The Queen of Nature’s bowers,
So ’mid the daughters fair of Eve
Art thou the peerless One!
The chosen handmaid of the Lord!
The Mother of His Son!
Yes, He endowed thee with all gifts
Which could thy beauty grace;
And ne’er did sin, e’en for one hour,
Thy spotless soul deface,
For from the first thou had’st the power
God’s fav’ring love to win;
It was His will that thou should’st be
Conceived devoid of sin.
Oh, Mother dear, obtain for us
That we from evil flee;
Throughout this, fleeting life’s career
Mayst thou our model be!
Seek we to imitate the gifts
That thy pure soul adorn—
Sweet flower of beauty and of grace!
Fair Rose without a thorn!
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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God Whose Gifts In Gracious Flood
God, whose gifts in gracious flood
Unto all who seek are sent,
Only asks you to be good,
And is content.
So the world, when all things are
Sparkling, yet does nought ignite,
Only asks you to be fair,
And finds delight.
And my heart, in the sweet shade
Of two beauteous eyes steeped o'er,
Only asks if you be glad,
And nothing more.
poem by Victor Hugo
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Birthday Honours
My natal day was yesterday;
And so I said to Fate,
'What gifts bring you, by one, by two,
To ease my parlous state?'
'I proffer blindly,' Fate replied,
From chance-found joys and ills.
For you, the 'flu; and this beside,
A sheaf of monthly bills.'
My natal day was yesterday;
And so I said to Chance,
'What gifts bring you, by one, by two,
My fortunes to enhance?'
Said Chance, 'I bring no obvious thing.
Unguessed escape bring I
From dangers rife alway in life
That closely pass you by.'
My natal day was yesterday;
And so I said to Life,
'What gifts bring you, by one, by two,
To salve me in the strife?'
But Life said, 'Nought. Long since I brought
My gifts, glum misanthrope;
And these for you I here renew;
Myself and human hope.'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Today... 'The Father Of Lights
'Let there be light, ' the Triune God said
and upon its way the firstborn light sped.
Steadfast and immovable is the Lord
and does not vary at all from His word.
In Him is no shadow of turning found
From the Father of Lights all gifts come down.
Good and perfect gifts descend from above
and shower upon us in His perfect love.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
An Epistle. Desiring The Queen's Picture, But Left Unfinished, By The Sudden News Of Her Majesty's Death
The train of equipage and pomp of state,
The shining sideboard and the burnish'd plate,
Let other ministers, great Anne, require,
And partial fall thy gift to their desire.
To the fair Portrait of my sovereign dame,
To that alone eternal be my claim.
My bright defender, and my dread delight,
If ever I found favour in thy sight;
If all the pains that for thy Britain's sake
My past has took, or future life may take,
Be grateful to my Queen, permit my prayer,
And with this gift reward my total care.
Will thy indulgent hand, fair Saint, allow
The boon? and will thy ear accept the vow?
That, in despite of age, of impious flame,
And eating Time, thy Picture, like thy fame,
Entire may last, that, as their eyes survey
The semblant shade, men yet unborn may say,
Thus great, thus gracious, look'd Britannia's Queen,
Her brow thus smooth, her look was thus serene;
When to a low but to a loyal hand
The mighty Empress gave her high command,
That he to hostile camps and kings should haste,
To speak her vengeance, as their danger, past;
To say, she wills detested wars to cease;
She checks her conquest for her subjects' ease,
And bids the world attend her terms of peace.
Thee, gracious Anne, thee present I adore,
Thee, Queen of Peace -- If Time and Fate have power
Higher to raise the glories of thy reign
In words sublimer and a nobler strain,
May future bards the mighty theme rehearse!
Here, Stator Jove, and Phoebus king of verse,
The votive tablet I suspend * * * * * * * * * *
poem by Matthew Prior
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How Do You Use Your Gifts?
I'm using my blessings and faith,
To create identifiable miracles.
And you?
How do you use your gifts?
In the begging of stuff?
That others have?
By using their own,
Faith kept persisted.
And what they have manage to materialize,
Makes you jealous and mad?
Your selfishness is pathetic!
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
In the begging of stuff?
That others have?
By using their own,
Faith kept persisted.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Unrest in the Kingdom of London Dairy? (Sung God Save the Queen or My Country tis of Thee)
The real verses The parody
God save our gracious Queen God save our Dairy Queen
Long live our noble Queen, No fancy shakes to be seen,
God save the Queen: God save the Queen
Send her victorious, Ice cream floats and fries,
Happy and glorious, Cheeseburgers you should try
Long to reign over us: Blizzards and Malts oh my
God save the Queen. God save the Queen
O Lord, our God, arise, DQ cakes, what’s at stake,
Scatter thine enemies, Chili dogs, Strawberry Cheesequakes
And make them fall: And make a small dipped cone
Confound their politics, Blizzards as Snickers or Oreos
Frustrate their knavish tricks, Chocolate Cookie Dough
On thee our hopes we fix: Let’s have cappuccino
God save us all. God we haven’t grown
Thy choicest gifts in store, Your choicest treats in store
On her be pleased to pour; You can’t each much more
Long may she reign: Our tables are clean
May she defend our laws, Sundaes you can get any day
And ever give us cause Brownie earthquakes if you pay
To sing with heart and voice And some Peanut Butter Parfaits
God save the Queen. God save the Queen
(2-29-2008)
poem by Joe Rosochacki
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The Gifts of Life and Pollution
Nature's gifts are sunny beaches,
Nature's gifts are rocky mountains,
Nature's gifts are vast oceans,
Nature's gifts are the tranquil colors in the rainbow,
Nature's gifts are rain forests,
Nature's gift is life.
Our gifts are oceans filled with toxins,
Our gifts are global warming,
Our gifts are deserted forests,
Our gifts are killed animals,
Our gifts are serious diseases,
Our gift is pollution.
poem by Melanie Jackson
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We Call On Him (take 4,5)
We call on Him
Whenever storm clouds gather
We call on Him to light our darkest day
Why must it be that only when we're lonely
And hopes are dim, we call on Him
Why don't we call on Him before we lose our way
To count our blessings and thank Him while we may
We call on Him when no-one else will answer
We ask of Him a reason to go on
When our cup of joy becomes a cup of sorrow
Filled to the brim, we call on Him
Why don't we call on Him before we lose our way
To count our blessings and thank Him while we may
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Call On Him
(words & music by karger - weisman - wayne)
We call on him
Whenever storm clouds gather
We call on him to light our darkest day
Why must it be that only when were lonely
And hopes are dim, we call on him
Why dont we call on him before we lose our way
To count our blessings and thank him while we may
We call on him when no-one else will answer
We ask of him a reason to go on
When our cup of joy becomes a cup of sorrow
Filled to the brim, we call on him
Why dont we call on him before we lose our way
To count our blessings and thank him while we may
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Address to Leopold VII.
To me is barr'd the door of joy and ease;
There stand I as an orphan, lone, forlorn,
And nothing boots me that I frequent knock.
Strange that on every hand the shower should fall,
And not one cheering drop should reach to me!
On all around the gen'rous Austrian's gifts,
Gladdening the land, like genial rain descend:
A fair and gay adorned mead is he
Whereon are gather'd oft the sweetest flowers:
Would that his rich and ever gen'rous hand
Might stoop to pluck one little leaf for me,
So might I fitly praise a scene so fair!
poem by Walther von der Vogelweide
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What Shall I Render
For mercies, countless as the sands,
Which daily I receive
From Jesus, my Redeemer's hands,
My soul what canst thou give?
Alas! from such a heart as mine,
What can I bring him forth?
My best is stained and dyed with sin,
My all is nothing worth.
Yet this acknowledgment I'll make
For all he has bestowed;
Salvation's sacred cup I'll take
And call upon my God.
The best returns for one like me,
So wretched and so poor;
Is from his gifts to draw a plea,
And ask him still for more.
I cannot serve him as I ought,
No works have I to boast;
Yet would I glory in the thought
That I shall owe him most.
poem by John Newton
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Beauty Is Loved By All
Who doesn't care beauty?
Not a single one if we count.
Who cares the mind's beauty?
A few, hardly they can be found.
We worship the beauty of face,
the uniqueness in all.
Rare, is their number,
Eyes, still always roll,
in search of gracious lady,
guys try their best.
Finally, they choose and marry,
the beautiful one better than rest,
but, never stop watching ladies,
they never call strike,
in matter of swallowing, the
beauty I think they like.
They are not satisfied with,
the beauty of their home.
They prefer, queens of other kings,
For that they ever roam.
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Life
IT is not life upon Thy gifts to live,
But, to grow fixed with deeper roots in Thee;
And when the sun and shower their bounties give,
To send out thick-leaved limbs; a fruitful tree,
Whose green head meets the eye for many a mile,
Whose moss-grown arms their rigid branches rear,
And full-faced fruits their blushing welcome smile
As to its goodly shade our feet draw near;
Who tastes its gifts shall never hunger more,
For 'tis the Father spreads the pure repast,
Who, while we eat, renews the ready store,
Which at his bounteous board must ever last;
For none the bridegroom's supper shall attend,
Who will not hear and make his word their friend.
poem by Jones Very
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GRAINS of SAND
Grains of sand
on which I stand
burn my feet
from the sun's intense heat.
I bury them quickly
to keep them cool.
The grains of sand
can be too cruel.
And now I know
I played the fool
for I left my sandals
where it was cool.
Afraid to move,
I see a child.
I call to him
as if I'm wild.
'My shoes, my shoes
please bring them here.'
He looks and waves,
then disappears.
And so I stay
and face the day
stuck in grains of sand.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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