Ditty
(E. L. G.)
BENEATH a knap where flown
Nestlings play,
Within walls of weathered stone,
Far away
From the files of formal houses,
By the bough the firstling browses,
Lives a Sweet: no merchants meet,
No man barters, no man sells
Where she dwells.
Upon that fabric fair
"Here is she!"
Seems written everywhere
Unto me.
But to friends and nodding neighbors,
Fellow wights in lot and labors,
Who descry the times as I,
No such lucid legend tells
Where she dwells.
Should I lapse to what I was
In days by--
(Such cannot be, but because
Some loves die
Let me feign it)--none would notice
That where she I know by rote is
Spread a strange and withering change,
Like a drying of the wells
Where she dwells.
To feel I might have kissed--
Loved as true--
Otherwhere, nor Mine have missed
My life through,
Had I never wandered near her,
Is a smart severe--severer
In the thought that she is nought,
Even as I, beyond the dells
Where she dwells.
And Devotion droops her glance
To recall
What bond-servants of Chance
We are all.
I but found her in that, going
On my errant path unknowing,
I did not out-skirt the spot
That no spot on earth excels--
Where she dwells!
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Related quotes
Do you know the answer?
Who dwells in your brain most-
The woman won or the one lost?
Which dwells in your thought most-
The love won or the one aborted?
Who gives you pleasure most-
The woman won or the one you pined for?
I know the answer; do you know?
26.01.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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In What Flesh Does God Dwell?
God dwells in flesh which received
sought after blessings from God
as such flesh aspires dwells in God.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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This Is Me.
this is me
thisa is me, there's nobody like me,
but my struggle dwells with me,
me and the kingdom to see,
if you wish to end the agony you truly must survive, ]
must persist on and on to see that we succeed,
success is not an easy thing,
success is there for those who love God,
the new heavenly light that dwells in our souls and minds.
poem by Maxim Muyu
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Wild Flowers Of Australia
Oh say not that no perfume dwells;
The wilding flowers among,
Say not that in the forest dells
Is heard no voice of song.
The air is laden with the scent
Borne from the clustering flower,
With which the wattle is besprent;
Like Danae’s golden shower.
And silv’ry wattles bending low,
Sweet incense scatter far—
When night-winds kiss the pensile bough,
Beneath the evening star.
And there are flowers of varying dye;
Now white, now blushing red,
Their beauteous blossoms charm the eye,
And fragrant odours shed.
There’s perfume breath’d from Austral flowers,—
And melody is there
Not such as in far Albion’s bowers
Falls on th’ accustom’d ear.
But thrilling snatches of wild song,
Pour’d forth from lonely glen—
Where winds the hidden creek along
Far from the haunts of men.
And hoarser notes in wild woods heard
Sound like strange harmonies,
As flashes past the bright-winged bird
Gleaming in azure skies.
Then say not that no perfume dwells,
The wilding flowers among;
Say not that in the forest dells
Is heard no voice of song!
poem by Caroline Carleton
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All In Your Mind
Happiness is a choice
It dwells within your mind
You only need to give it voice
It's not so hard to find
Sadness dwells there too
And tis a choice in kind
Whose dwelling choose you
To most often go to?
…After all…
It's all in your mind
poem by David Whalen
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Serenade to an Angel
Your wings are wide
your thighs are nice
your halo glows bright in the night
your smile deafens
any scepticism
your eyes shine
wont you be mine
your grace is not so graceful
but you are an Angel
your body a monument to Beauty
your soft but unbreakable
your singel but untakeable
your an Angel who dwells on earth
i cant express how much your worth
but seeing you 100 yards away
is worth the wait if youll be mine someday
Your beautiful
from head to toe
no matter what you wear
you will always be amazing
this is my weary attempt to dazzle an Angel
with weary words of man
but this angel dwells with men so maybe she will chance it with Dan
poem by Daniel Cook
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The Devil Within
Devil inside the mask thats displayed
On your knees you honor your master as you decieve
Leaving the doors you then show your true self
Evil walks as the devil that dwells in you
Your gangs and criminals with violence and murder will rebound
For we many in a hell where evil dwells in many hearts
Repent now to save yourself from losing your soul
If you choose to stay in hell to continue speading your evil from one life to the next torment will never end in your mind
Your true happiness with love will never be found
You will only be lost in your evil devil ways over and over For the devil is not in the ground as words say to be feared at the end
The devil is here now and must change his evil ways for a better world
poem by Candy Transcends
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To Mary
Let other bards of angels sing,
Bright suns without a spot;
But thou art no such perfect thing:
Rejoice that thou art not!
Heed not tho' none should call thee fair;
So, Mary, let it be
If nought in loveliness compare
With what thou art to me.
True beauty dwells in deep retreats,
Whose veil is unremoved
Till heart with heart in concord beats,
And the lover is beloved.
poem by William Wordsworth
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Absence
NIGHTLY I watch the moon with silvery sheen
Flaking the city house-tops, till I feel
Thy memory, Rosa, like a presence, steal
Down in her light: for ever in her mien
Thy soul’s similitude my soul hath seen!
And as she seemeth now a guardian seal
On Heaven’s far bliss, upon my future weal
Even such thy truth is—radiantly serene!
But long my fancy may not entertain
These bright resemblances—for, lo, a cloud
Blots her away, and in my breast the pain
Of absent love, recurring, pines aloud!
When shall I look in thy sweet eyes again,—
Rosa, when cheer thee with like sadness bowed?
Wherever in some wildwood bower
There blooms a honey-yielding flower,
There too dwells a bird to sup
Out of its delicious cup,
And sing betimes, lest it should be
O’erfed into satiety:
So wherever Loveliness
Dwells retired—dwells to bless,
Not dazzle: there some destin’d spirit,
Feeding on its luscious merit,
Can at peace with Passion be
Only through sweet Poesy.
poem by Charles Harpur
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To thee there is no reason just a mood
To thee there is no reason just a mood
That dwells in you, and dwells in me
Causing the muse to sullenly brood
How this love was born or came to be
An infinite of mist, and nothing clear
Each cloud a thought of mysticism
For romance to lay, and song to play
To each soul of keen criticism
Thou art miracles and art beyond realistic
Perfect ideals in one's mood manifested
An aesthetic feeling, in poems artistic
In beauties potion, by love wrested
Thou art mystery to thee and to me
Thou art the secret of mankind's poetry
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Echo Song
I
Who can say where Echo dwells?
In some mountain-cave, methinks,
Where the white owl sits and blinks;
Or in deep sequestered dells,
Where foxglove hangs its bells,
Echo dwells.
Echo!
Echo!
II
Phantom of the crystal Air,
Daughter of sweet Mystery!
Here is one has need of thee;
Lead him to thy secret lair,
Myrtle brings he for thy hair--
Hear his prayer,
Echo!
Echo!
III
Echo lift thy drowsy head,
And repeat each charmëd word
Thou must needs have overheard
Yestere'en ere, rosy-red,
Daphne down the valley fled--
Words unsaid,
Echo!
Echo!
IV
Breathe the vows she since denies!
She hath broken every vow;
What she would she would not now--
Thou didst hear her perjuries.
Whisper, whilst I shut my eyes,
Those sweet lies,
Echo!
Echo!
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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Forever Friends
On a distant domain of this globe
I know not on which crossroad
Of which latitude
And which longitude, she dwells.
What thoughts are brought
by the favorable wind
from the greatest of all empires?
What fragrance is carried
from the land of poetry and beauty
where my bosom friend for ever
dwells?
The quintessence of a divine aroma
grips me when am in the
tight tentacles of my friends'
immaculate personality.
I get a second life
of timeless longevity
as I tread and breathe the
air and listen to the whisper
of my friend coming from her abode.
As I hug the wind, the air the scent
that emanates from the soil and scenery
of your native
I get a surreal ecstasy in my soul.
One Hallow's Eve
There's a graveyard down, beside the glen
near where the shop man dwells.
The woods are deep and none dare sleep
when the banshees scream and yell.
That's where two brothers lay a trap
to scare their sisters dear.
Their sisters, returning from the dance,
by twilight would be here.
Some bones they'd found
from some dead beast
long buried in the bog.
They'd lit a Candle in the Skull
and practiced moaning loud.
There's a graveyard down, beside the glen
near where the shop man dwells.
The woods are deep and none dare sleep
when the banshees scream and yell.
The girls returning from the dance
found not what you'd suppose:
Some scattered bones, some ashes
and their little brothers' clothes.
The town folk searched the hills for days
For Henry and his brother John
They never found the bodies
that were buried in the bog.
There's a graveyard down, beside the glen
near where the shop man dwells.
The woods are deep and none dare sleep
when the banshees scream and yell.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Virtue never dwells alone, it always has neighbors.
Persistent Consistency
A persistent consistency...
With detemination to excell,
Generates a motivation...
From inside one where it dwells.
Seeking an acceptance,
For that which one loves to create...
Will never satisfy an ego that tries,
To enforce upon others...
An appreciation shown that escalates.
One attempting to do this,
Is not connected mentally...
To the gifts they have.
Or feel blessed to nourish,
As time passes on from their grasp.
Many seek results and success,
Quickly delivered.
Without a discipline applied.
Or a sacrificing done of a social life.
A persistent consistency...
With detemination to excell,
Generates a motivation...
From inside one where it dwells.
And does not derive,
From an outside source for a thriving to arrive.
Some nights may be substituted,
For a sleeplessness...
Ambitions seduce to produce.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hymn 87
God dwells with the humble and penitent.
Isa. 47:15,16.
Thus saith the high and lofty One:
"I sit upon my holy throne;
My name is God, I dwell on high,
Dwell in my own eternity.
"But I descend to worlds below,
On earth I have a mansion too;
The humble spirit and contrite
Is an abode of my delight.
"The humble soul my words revive,
I bid the mourning sinner live,
Heal all the broken hearts I find,
And ease the sorrows of the mind.
["When I contend against their sin,
I make them know how vile they've been;
But should my wrath for ever smoke,
Their souls would sink beneath my stroke."]
O may thy pard'ning grace be nigh,
Lest we should faint, despair, and die!
Thus shall our better thoughts approve
The methods of thy chast'ning love.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Wayside Flowers
Pluck not the wayside flower,
It is the traveller's dower;
A thousand passers-by
Its beauties may espy,
May win a touch of blessing
From Nature's mild caressing.
The sad of heart perceives
A violet under leaves
Like sonic fresh-budding hope;
The primrose on the slope
A spot of sunshine dwells,
And cheerful message tells
Of kind renewing power;
The nodding bluebell's dye
Is drawn from happy sky.
Then spare the wayside flower!
It is the traveller's dower.
poem by William Allingham
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Bohemia
Bohemia, o'er thy unatlassed borders
How many cross, with half-reluctant feet,
And unformed fears of dangers and disorders,
To find delights, more wholesome and more sweet
Than ever yet were known to the "elite."
Herein can dwell no pretence and no seeming;
No stilted pride thrives in this atmosphere,
Which stimulates a tendency to dreaming.
The shores of the ideal world, from here,
Seem sometimes to be tangible and near.
We have no use for formal codes of fashion;
No "Etiquette f Courts" we emulate;
We know it needs sincerity and passion
To carry out the plans of God, or fate;
We do not strive to seem inanimate.
We call no time lost that we give to pleasure;
Life's hurrying river speeds to Death's great sea;
We cast out no vain plummet-line to measure
Imagined depths of that unknown To-Be,
But grasp the Now, and fill it full of glee.
All creeds have room here, and we all together
Devoutly worship at Art's sacred shrine;
But he who dwells once in thy golden weather,
Bohemia--sweet, lovely land of mine--
Can find no joy outside thy border-line.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Flower Lady
Flowers she sells,
In the market, she dwells,
A burden on thin shoulders,
She balances so well,
Strong as big boulders,
Lovely flowers she sells.
Truth
It is Truth
If what reality dwells in the mind
Is completely presented.
It is untruth
If what reality dwells in the mind
Is veiled and presented.
The ebbs and flows
of the mundane pursuits
and the Perpetual Truth
both alternate
and reside in the same mind.
If the encountered
mundane reflections are obliterated
The Eternal Truth glistens
In greater degree by its own visions.
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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