To An American Embassy
Written At Florence, 1866:
Since Sovereign Nature, at the happy best,
Is rightful and sole paragon of Art,
Who, tho' she but in part, and part by part,
Paints, carves, or sings the whole, is still possest
By thee, all thee, oh somewhere unconfest
Apollo! in the worlds of men who art
A man, and, with a human body and heart,
Lookest her visible truths, and livest the rest;
Surely that strategy was well design'd
Which, laying siege to Art's proud Capital,
Armed not, against her matchless pow'rs-that-be,
Music, Painting, Sculpture, Poetry,
But sent a living womanhood of all
To queen, by their own laws, the masters of mankind.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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The Blossom
LITTLE think'st thou, poor flower,
Whom I've watch'd six or seven days,
And seen thy birth, and seen what every hour
Gave to thy growth, thee to this height to raise,
And now dost laugh and triumph on this bough,
Little think'st thou,
That it will freeze anon, and that I shall
To-morrow find thee fallen, or not at all.
Little think'st thou, poor heart,
That labourest yet to nestle thee,
And think'st by hovering here to get a part
In a forbidden or forbidding tree,
And hopest her stiffness by long siege to bow,
Little think'st thou
That thou to-morrow, ere the sun doth wake,
Must with the sun and me a journey take.
But thou, which lovest to be
Subtle to plague thyself, wilt say,
Alas! if you must go, what's that to me?
Here lies my business, and here I will stay
You go to friends, whose love and means present
Various content
To your eyes, ears, and taste, and every part;
If then your body go, what need your heart?
Well then, stay here; but know,
When thou hast stay'd and done thy most,
A naked thinking heart, that makes no show,
Is to a woman but a kind of ghost.
How shall she know my heart; or having none,
Know thee for one?
Practice may make her know some other part;
But take my word, she doth not know a heart.
Meet me in London, then,
Twenty days hence, and thou shalt see
Me fresher and more fat, by being with men,
Than if I had stay'd still with her and thee.
For God's sake, if you can, be you so too;
I will give you
There to another friend, whom we shall find
As glad to have my body as my mind.
poem by John Donne (1633)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Beranger's
Still serve me in my age, I pray,
As in my youth, O faithful one;
For years I've brushed thee every day-
Could Socrates have better done?
What though the fates would wreak on thee
The fulness of their evil art?
Use thou philosophy, like me-
And we, old friend, shall never part!
I think-I
often
think of it-
The day we twain first faced the crowd;
My roistering friends impeached your fit,
But you and I were very proud!
Those jovial friends no more make free
With us (no longer new and smart),
But rather welcome you and me
As loving friends that should not part.
The patch? Oh, yes-one happy night-
'Lisette,' says I, 'it's time to go'-
She clutched this sleeve to stay my flight,
Shrieking: 'What! leave so early? No!'
To mend the ghastly rent she'd made,
Three days she toiled, dear patient heart!
And I-right willingly I staid-
Lisette decreed we should not part!
No incense ever yet profaned
This honest, shiny warp of thine,
Nor hath a courtier's eye disdained
Thy faded hue and quaint design;
Let servile flattery be the price
Of ribbons in the royal mart-
A roadside posie shall suffice
For us two friends that must not part!
Fear not the recklessness of yore
Shall re-occur to vex thee now;
Alas, I am a youth no more-
I'm old and sere, and so art thou!
So bide with me unto the last
And with thy warmth caress this heart
That pleads, by memories of the Past,
That two such friends should never part!
poem by Eugene Field
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Nature
Iam a part of nature, and nature is a part of me.
We live together, on this earth in sweet harmony.
Iam a living specimen, just not botany.
Iam a part of nature.
I stand erect as an old oak tree.
I've weathering various storms and showers, some visable to see.
I can sing like bird, and remain on key.
Yet, my life can be as busy as a bee,
collaborating effortlessly, with natures precious melodies.
That is why, Iam a part of nature and nature, is a part of me.
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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The Inn of Apollo
Have you supped at the Inn of Apollo,
While the last light fades from the West?
Has the Lord of the Sun, at the world's end,
Poured you his ripest and best?
O, there's wine in that Inn of Apollo;
Wine, mellow and deep as the sunset,
With mirth in it, singing as loud
As the skylark sings in a high wind,
High over a crisp white cloud.
Have you laughed in that Inn of Apollo?
Was the whole world molten in music
At once, by the heat of that wine?
Did the stars and the tides and your own heart
Dance with the heavenly Nine?
For they dance in that Inn of Apollo.
Was their poetry croaked by the sages,
Or born in a whisper of wings?
For the music that masters the ages,
Be sure, is the music that sings!
Yes, they sing in that Inn of Apollo.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Oh Sweet Music
Oh sweet music, music so sweet
keep on sounding so you defeat
the ongoing cacaphony of noises we hear,
the raucousness that infects the ear.
This glory of sound surely must be
what is needed by mind and body.
For without the airs played by man
the world will return to how it began.
Soundless, still and deafened in space.
Oh were it not for the human race,
the music of the soul which reigneth supreme
would only be heard in mankind's dream.
The thought of that affects my heart.
For music to me is the very best part
of living in this world that's all mixed-up.
Oh sweet music please fill my cup.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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To His Son, Vincent Corbet
What I shall leave thee none can tell,
But all shall say I wish thee well:
I wish thee, Vin, before all wealth,
Both bodily and ghostly health;
Nor too much wealth, nor wit, come to thee,
So much of either may undo thee.
I wish thee learning, not for show,
Enough for to instruct and know,
Not such as gentlemen require
To prate at table or at fire.
I wish thee all thy mother's graces,
Thy father's fortunes, and his places.
I wish thee friends, and one at court,
Not to build on, but support,
To keep thee, not in doing many
Oppressions, but from suffering any.
I wish thee peace in all thy ways,
Nor lazy nor contentious days;
And when thy soul and body part,
As innocent as now thou art.
poem by Richard Corbet
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Something More
there is a part of me in you,
in every move you make,
every thought you think,
in every sleepless night...
there is a part of you in me,
in every time i do the right thing,
every gentle and good thought,
in everything i believe...
there is a part of us in God,
and a part of God in us;
that cannot be seperated
and still feed the flame of living.
there is a part of love, and the whole,
written by our destinies.
you and i, and something more,
that words cannot define.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Have A Nice Rest Of Your Life
There's not a mean bone in my body
I never could be unkind
I know we're not talking
But there's something on my mind
It ain't rightteous indignation
I don't plan to rant or rave
No need for us to fight and fuss
I just want to say
Have a nice rest of your life without me
I'll be proud to be a part of your history
If it makes you happy, honey
Keep talking bad about me
And have a nice rest of your life without me
I know you're not heartless
Not callous and you're not cruel
And I know you don't mean to
When you treat me like a fool
I beleive that your good nature
Will emerge with someone else
If I can't be beside you
I can be beside myself.
Have a nice rest of your life without me
I'll be proud to be a part of your history
If it makes you happy, honey
Keep talking bad about me
And have a nice rest of your life without me
Without me
Don't forget your pocketbook, honey
Or your toothbrush
Don't forget you toothbrush, dear...
--- Instrumental to fade ---
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As matchless beauty
As matchless beauty thee a Phoenix proves,
Fair Leonilla, so thy sour-sweet loves.
For when young Acon's eye thy proud heart tames,
Thou diest in him, and livest in my flames.
poem by John Wilbye
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Some Part of You
I really love some part of you
But I don't like some part
I can compromise with some part
Some part is your own business
That is whole of you
One complex life set in human body
Sometimes I love you more than I hate you
Sometimes I hate you more than I love you
Sometimes you do something incredibly stupid
Sometimes I want to keep you in my box so no one see you
That is whole living you
Maybe loving you is a mistake
or I am the mistake you made
You can make me crazy, you can make me sad
But some part of me will feel lonely
When whole of you is not with me
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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We Are Part Of Nature
We are part of Nature to her we belong
Those who tell you otherwise they have got it wrong
The only God or Goddess I can claim to know
Lives in Nature and my wonder of her only grow.
As much as the sheep or the goat or the cow
Or the blackbird who pipes upon the leafy bough
Or the wildflowers that bloom on the banks of the stream
We are part of Nature or so it does seem.
We are part of Nature it does seem to me
Though some with my opinions may well not agree
To Nature we have to return to one day
And in her earthy bosom our remains will lay.
As much as the koala or wombat or roo
Or as much as the black or the white cockatoo
Or as much as the echidna or the emu
We are part of Nature that fact remains true.
The Goddess who feeds us why must i explain
That we are part of Nature must i say it again?
As much as the blossoms on the leafy tree
We are part of Nature you as well as me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Nature versus Collective Self
they say we are
a part of nature
but i say nature
is part of us
growing eyes,
ears, tongues
heart and mind
compass for us
to sail the ocean
of the one self we
all are part of
nature spells out
charms to the
varied senses in
the self too many
to count
when the full moon shines
the thought is lighted up
large and calm as a lake
when a person dies
he strips a part of nature
in the self
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Warning and Reply
In the earth—the earth—thou shalt be laid,
A grey stone standing over thee;
Black mould beneath thee spread,
And black mould to cover thee.
'Well—there is rest there,
So fast come thy prophecy;
The time when my sunny hair
Shall with grass roots entwined be.'
But cold—cold is that resting-place,
Shut out from joy and liberty,
And all who loved thy living face
Will shrink from it shudderingly,
'Not so. Here the world is chill,
And sworn friends fall from me:
But there—they will own me still,
And prize my memory.'
Farewell, then, all that love,
All that deep sympathy:
Sleep on: Heaven laughs above,
Earth never misses thee.
Turf-sod and tombstone drear
Part human company;
One heart breaks only—here,
But that heart was worthy thee!
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
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Part of It All
i am only
a part
of creation
this body
i am in
i am only
a part of it
the rest
i really dont
know what's
going on
i am
you know
only part
of creation
if creation
would give
mouths
to the grass
every blade
in the field
would decry too
'we own only
part of each other'
the rest, only
heaven knows.'
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Sonnet 107: Stella, Since Thou So Right
Stella, since thou so right a princess art
Of all the powers which life bestows on me,
That ere by them aught undertaken be
They first resort unto that sovereign part;
Sweet, for a while give respite to my heart,
Which pants as though it still should leap to thee,
And on my thoughts give thy lieutenancy
To this great cause, which needs both use and art.
And as a queen, who from her presence sends
Whom she employs, dismiss from thee my wit,
Till it have wrought what thy own will attends.
On servant's shame oft master's blame doth sit;
Oh let not fools in me thy works reprove,
And scorning say, 'See what it is to love.'
poem by Philip Sidney
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Ad Domnulam Suam
Little lady of my heart !
Just a little longer,
Love me: we will pass and part,
Ere this love grow stronger.
I have loved thee, Child! too well,
To do aught but leave thee :
Nay! my lips should never tell
Any tale, to grieve thee.
Little lady of my heart !
Just a little longer,
I may love thee: we will part,
Ere my love grow stronger.
Soon thou leavest fairy-land;
Darker grow thy tresses;
Soon no more of hand in hand;
Soon no more caresses !
Little lady of my heart !
Just a little longer,
Be a child: then, we will part,
Ere this love grow stronger.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Tis Part Of Human Nature
I take them as i meet them of people i must say
And if some disrespect me in kind them i repay
Respect me and I'll respect you in that i do believe
'Tis part of human nature to return what you receive.
'Tis part of human nature for to like words of praise
A big boost to the ego and our spirits it does raise
Kinds words they make us happy when nice things one to us say
To feel flattered by the compliment that is our human way.
Some criticisms of us we see as quite unfair
And damage by lies done to one's character is quite hard to repair
Those who tell you that mud sticks are saying what is true
Never lie about another and give everyone their due.
'Tis part of human nature to stick by your own kind
Football fans in art galleries you are not likely to find
You show disrespect to someone that person will not respect you
And what you do to others unto you they will do.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Easter
Rise, heart, thy lord is risen. Sing his praise
Without delays,
Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise
With him may'st rise:
That, as his death calcinèd thee to dust,
His life may make thee gold, and, much more, just.
Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part
With all thy art,
The cross taught all wood to resound his name
Who bore the same.
His stretchèd sinews taught all strings what key
Is best to celebrate this most high day.
Consort, both heart and lute, and twist a song
Pleasant and long;
Or, since all music is but three parts vied
And multiplied
Oh let thy blessèd Spirit bear a part,
And make up our defects with his sweet art.
poem by George Herbert
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Colors of Music
As the music flows through air
Changing colors to the swing of the music
I dance and play along with it
As my heart sings with it
As we intertwine
The music changes color and shade
My soul fuses with the music
Making it part of me
And Me part of it
Then we play on through night
Never stoping
Hymn XVIII: Father, Saviour of Mankind
Father, Saviour of mankind,
Who hast on me bestowed
An immortal soul, designed
To be the house of God;
Come, and now reside in me,
Never, never to remove;
Make me just and good, like thee,
And full of power and love.
Bid me in thy image rise,
A saint, a creature new,
True, and merciful, and wise,
And pure, and happy too.
This thy primitive design,
That I should in thee be blest,
Should within the arms divine
For ever, ever rest.
Let thy will on me be done;
Fulfil my heart's desire,
Thee to know and love alone,
And rise in raptures higher;
Thee, descending on a cloud,
When with ravished eyes I see,
Then I shall be filled with God
To all eternity!
poem by Charles Wesley
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