Sonnet On Receiving A Gift
Look how the golden ocean shines above
Its pebbly stones, and magnifies their girth;
So does the bright and blessed light of Love
Its own things glorify, and raise their worth.
As weeds seem flowers beneath the flattering brine,
And stones like gems, and gems as gems indeed,
Ev'n so our tokens shine; nay, they outshine
Pebbles and pearls, and gems and coral weed;
For where be ocean waves but half so clear,
So calmly constant, and so kindly warm,
As Love's most mild and glowing atmosphere,
That hath no dregs to be upturn'd by storm?
Thus, sweet, thy gracious gifts are gifts of price,
And more than gold to doting Avarice.
poem by Thomas Hood
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Related quotes
The Vault
Searching for the dream.
Manifestation of mind.
Ideal of destination.
It lay deep within the heart.
Within the soul.
In the vault lies a chest.
Inside the chest is the treasure.
Many priceless gems.
Most tarnished, just needing some polishing.
The treasure lay dormant for many years.
She receives the key.
The vault master believes she will help the gems to shine.
But instead she steals them.
Entering the vault at her own discretion.
Taking only the shiniest.
Leaving the tarnished to shine themselves.
The lock has now been changed.
He will now polish the gems himself.
The most valuable gems were the ones that remained tarnished in the vault.
They were of no value to her.
They did not shine.
But once they were polished,
It became known,
That they were the most valuable gems of them all.
For love is patient.
Lust takes what looks good to the eye.
Love will wait for the gems to shine.
To share the riches for a lifetime.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Noblesse Oblige
I hold it the duty of one who is gifted
And specially dowered I all men’s sight,
To know no rest till his life is lifted
Fully up to his great gifts’ height.
He must mould the man into rare completeness,
For gems are only in gold refined.
He must fashion his thoughts into perfect sweetness,
And cast out folly and pride from his mind.
For he who drinks from a god’s gold fountain
Of art of music or rhythmic song
Must sift from his soul the chaff of malice,
And weed from his heart the roots of wrong.
Great gifts should be worn, like a crown befitting,
And not like gems in a beggar’s hands!
And the toil must be constant and unremitting
Which lifts up the king to the crown’s demands.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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What if Human Nature was Blind?
What if the gems found
Deep down underground
Had feelings about what humans do
Had feelings about me and you?
What if these precious stones cry
What if they scream out, asking why?
As they are taken and studied
For human want, not the need?
What if the humans could hear
And feel each and every tear
These gems let loose as they are pried
From the comfort of the Earth dried?
What if the humans choose to look away
Causing the gems to feel the dismay
As they are left to feel the pain
Of the humans weather, mostly the rain.
Well, the gems will break and be no more
The humans will have nothing left, to put in their store.
poem by Thamer Mager
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The Gifts That Come From The Heart
Memories so sweet they don't depart,
Because each stays sublime,
It's the gifts that come from the heart
That stand the test of time...
Like that first kiss upon the cheek,
Before lips melt with love,
Such heartfelt gifts must be unique,
What else could prove enough?
Some think gold rings or gems will do,
Or flowers for a while,
While others hold the point of view,
Whatever makes them smile...
Yet heartfelt gifts mean so much more,
For these were meant to please...
They have enchantments to allure,
Somehow they grant you peace...
To think that someone truly cares,
Loves tenderly and free,
Holds nothing back and nothing spares
And shares incredibly...
God-blessed are those who play it smart,
That simply says it all...
With the gifts that come from the heart,
For love is beautiful...
Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2011.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Cornelia’s Jewels
Among the haughtiest of her sex, in noble, quiet pride,
Cornelia stood, with mien that seemed their folly vain to chide:
No jewels sparkled on her brow, so high, so purely fair,
No gems were mingled ’mid her waves of dark and glossy hair;
And yet was she, amidst them all, despite their dazzling mien,
A woman in her gentle grace—in majesty a queen.
While some now showed their flashing gems with vain, exulting air,
And others boasted of their toys, their trinkets rich and rare,
And challenged her to treasures bring that shone with equal light,
Proudly she glanced her dark eye o’er the store of jewels bright.
”Rich as these are,“ she answered then, ”and dazzling as they shine,
They cannot for one hour compete in beauty rare with mine!
“You all seem doubtful, and a smile of scorn your features wear,
Look on my gems, and say if yours are but one half as fair?”
The Roman matron proudly placed her children in their sight
Whose brows already bore the seal of intellectual might;
She pressed them to her, whilst each trait with radiance seemed to shine,
And murmur’d, “Tell me, dare you say, your jewels outshine mine?”
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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Hidden Gems
Whenever we have, a sort out
we can almost guarantee we will find
hidden gems that have been forgotten
over the passing years.
Discovering these little gems
sends us back to our memory store
as we search to remind ourselves
of the time we got them many years ago.
These little gems found
bring a smile to us once more
as they did to us
all those years before.
1 October 2011
poem by David Harris
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Poem about Poetry - As the poems go
as the poems go into the hundreds
i realise there are gems of various grades
strewn everywhere
if only i have the time to gather them all
and string them into a necklace for the goddess of poetry
they will i think sparkle round her neck
the rest - gems with less lustre
like sweat will soon dry
to refresh me to have another go
scouring the various compartments of
my mind for gems of the best categories
and perhaps one day finds one
from a distant planet
that would shock the world
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Reading poetry on the Web
i wade through rivers
of diamonds, rubies,
plain rocks and stones
that criss cross the world
picking up gems
poetry on the web
i wade through rivers
to get to international souls
sacred rivers of all kinds
ganges, indus, nile, mekong
chao phraya
filled with stones
heads of all kinds,
round, flat, sharp,
black, white, green,
brown, yellow, big and small,
sand, silt, gravel,
between them when lucky
precious gems turn up to greet me
fishes help spread the magic
liven up nooks and corners
some sprint, some plain swim
among these, the best rivers
are crystal clear,
a dazzling picture of sky, heaven
taking the breath of god
as they whisper a poetic tale
immediately marked in gold by the morning sun
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Treasures Of The Deep
What hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells?
Thou hollow-sounding and mysterious main!
-Pale glistening pearls, and rainbow-colour'd shells,
Bright things which gleam unreck'd-of, and in vain!
-Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy sea!
We ask not such from thee.
Yet more, the depths have more!-what wealth untold,
Far down, and shining through their stillness lies!
Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold,
Won from ten thousand royal Argosies!
-Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful main!
Earth claims not these again.
Yet more, the depths have more!-thy waves have roll'd
Above the cities of a world gone by!
Sand hath fill'd up the palaces of old,
Sea-weed o'ergrown the halls of revelry.
-Dash o'er them, ocean! in thy scornful play!
Man yields them to decay.
Yet more! the billows and the depths have more!
High hearts and brave are gather'd to thy breast!
They hear not now the booming waters roar,
The battle thunders will not break their rest.
-Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave!
Give back the true and brave!
Give back the lost and lovely!-those for whom
The place was kept at board and hearth so long,
The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom,
And the vain yearning woke 'midst festal song!
Hold fast thy buried Isles, thy towers o'erthrown-
But all is not thine own.
To thee the love of woman hath gone down,
Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head,
O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown,
-Yet must thou hear a voice-restore the dead!
Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee!
-Restore the dead, thou sea!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Sonnet 81: Oh Kiss, Which Dost
Oh kiss, which dost those ruddy gems impart,
Or gems, or fruits of new-found Paradise,
Breathing all bliss and sweet'ning to the heart,
Teaching dumb lips a nobler exercise;
Oh kiss, which souls, even souls, together ties
By links of Love, and only Nature's art:
How fain would I paint thee to all men's eyes,
Or of thy gifts at least shade out some part;
But she forbids, with blushing words, she says
She builds her fame on higher-seated praise;
But my heart burns, I cannot silent be.
Then since (dear life) you fain would have me peace,
And I, mad with delight, want wit to cease,
Stop you my mouth with still, still kissing me.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Rich and Rare Were the Gems She Wore
Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore;
But oh! her beauty was far beyond
Her sparkling gems, or snow-white wand.
"Lady! dost thou not fear to stray,
So lone and lovely through this bleak way?
Are Erin's sons so good or so cold,
As not to be tempted by woman or gold?"
"Sir Knight! I feel not the least alarm,
No son of Erin will offer me harm: --
For though they love woman and golden store,
Sir Knight! they love honour and virtue more!"
On she went, and her maiden smile
In safety lighted her round the green isle;
And blest for ever is she who relied
Upon Erin's honour and Erin's pride.
poem by Thomas Moore
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Souvenirs Of Democracy
THE business man, the acquirer vast,
After assiduous years, surveying results, preparing for departure,
Devises houses and lands to his children--bequeaths stocks, goods--
funds for a school or hospital,
Leaves money to certain companions to buy tokens, souvenirs of gems
and gold;
Parceling out with care--And then, to prevent all cavil,
His name to his testament formally signs.
But I, my life surveying,
With nothing to show, to devise, from its idle years,
Nor houses, nor lands--nor tokens of gems or gold for my friends,
Only these Souvenirs of Democracy--In them--in all my songs--behind
me leaving, 10
To You, who ever you are, (bathing, leavening this leaf especially
with my breath--pressing on it a moment with my own hands;
--Here! feel how the pulse beats in my wrists!--how my heart's-blood
is swelling, contracting!)
I will You, in all, Myself, with promise to never desert you,
To which I sign my name.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Capturing
To catch a tiger by the tail
To seize a dragonfly
To pierce a butterfly's frail wings
Possessing them thereby
That is the quest of those who hunt
And them who gather things
The skilled attempt of silversmiths
To fashion them on rings
Today I saw fine jewelry
In shapes of elves and sprites
And ruby throated hummingbirds
In golden garnet flight
What fairer gifts could damsels seek
Than passion flowers in rows
Alighting on their graceful necks
In amethyst repose
But I will not a tiger catch
Or trap a dragonfly
Nor will I swat a pretty moth
That's hovering nearby
My hunt consists of rarer gems
The kind that have no price
I scout the night for sapphire skies
On winter's diamond ice
The treasures often sought by some
Gems shaped by cunning hands
Can not compare to those I seek
Brought forth by God's command
To catch a tiger by the tail
To seize a dragonfly
To pierce a butterfly's frail wings
In capturing they die.
poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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Love's Treasure House
I went to Love's old treasure house last night,
Alone, when all the world was still -- asleep,
And saw the miser Memory, grown gray
With years of jealous counting of his gems,
There seated. Keen was his eye, his hand
Firm as when first his hoarding he began
Of precious things of Love, long years ago.
"And this," he said, "is gold from out her hair,
And this the moonlight that she wandered in,
With here a rose, enamelled by her breath,
That bloomed in glory 'tween her breasts, and here
The brimming sun-cup that she quaffed at noon,
And here the star that cheered her in the night;
In this great chest, see curiously wrought,
Are purest of Love's gems." A ruby key,
Enclasped upon a golden ring, he took,
With care, from out some secret hiding-place,
And delicately touched the lock, whereat
I staggered, blinded by the light of things
More luminous than stars, and questioned thus --
"What are these treasures, miser Memory?"
And slowly bending his gray head, he spoke:
"These are the multitudes of kisses sweet
Love gave so gladly, and I treasure here."
poem by David MacDonald Ross
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Less Asylum
This fake city
encounters
a thundering
moment; I go down
coveting a mating
call from an explosion
of hallowed
questions, with no answers.
Stones were after all
stones, not gems of knowledge.
How can you make a
universal elixir figuratively
out of garbage of
human tongues?
poem by Satish Verma
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935 Sapphire Birthstone Of September
Dipyramidal - sweet sapphire
Saturation tone and hue
All contribute to sapphires richness
A precious stone of azure blue
Kings - Knights and Knaves would all desire
Their fairest ladies to adorn
A cool blue stone - but full of fire
Dipyramidal - sweet sapphire.
Sapphires gems of situation
Sri Lanka - Kashmir - other places
Pink (padparadshas) - yellow - white
And even green - through iron traces.
Blue is sapphire's presentation
It speaks of truth and constancy
Insight and interpretation.
Sapphires gems of situation.
Sapphire birthstone of September
Bringing calmness - healing tensions
Linked with Zodiac sign of Virgo
Perfecting us in all dimensions.
Energy derived from Saturn
Rings of love and of completeness
Fitting in a perfect pattern
Sapphire birthstone of September.
Sapphire nature's perfect gemstone
Dipyramidal sweet sapphire
Sapphires gems of situation
Sapphire birthstone of September
September of birthstone sapphire
Situation of gems sapphires
Sapphire sweet dipyramidal
Gemstone perfect nature's sapphire.
This poem is dedicated to A Sapphire Angel.
(John Knight - Cool Dark Colchester - 23 September 2010)
poem by John Knight
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For An Autumn festival
The Persian's flowery gifts, the shrine
Of fruitful Ceres, charm no more;
The woven wreaths of oak and pine
Are dust along the Isthmian shore.
But beauty hath its homage still,
And nature holds us still in debt;
And woman's grace and household skill,
And manhood's toil, are honored yet.
And we, to-day, amidst our flowers
And fruits, have come to own again
The blessings of the summer hours,
The early and the latter rain;
To see our Father's hand once more
Reverse for us the plenteous horn
Of autumn, filled and running o'er
With fruit, and flower, and golden corn!
Once more the liberal year laughs out
O'er richer stores than gems or gold;
Once more with harvest-song and shout
Is Nature's bloodless triumph told.
Our common mother rests and sings,
Like Ruth, among her garnered sheaves;
Her lap is full of goodly things,
Her brow is bright with autumn leaves.
Oh, favors every year made new!
Oh, gifts with rain and sunshine sent
The bounty overruns our due,
The fulness shames our discontent.
We shut our eyes, the flowers bloom on;
We murmur, but the corn-ears fill,
We choose the shadow, but the sun
That casts it shines behind us still.
God gives us with our rugged soil
The power to make it Eden-fair,
And richer fruits to crown our toil
Than summer-wedded islands bear.
Who murmurs at his lot to-day?
Who scorns his native fruit and bloom?
Or sighs for dainties far away,
Beside the bounteous board of home?
Thank Heaven, instead, that Freedom's arm
Can change a rocky soil to gold,--
That brave and generous lives can warm
A clime with northern ices cold.
And let these altars, wreathed with flowers
And piled with fruits, awake again
Thanksgivings for the golden hours,
The early and the latter rain!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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On the death of a friend
There was no bell to peal thy funeral dirge,
No nodding plumes to wave above thy bier,
No shroud to wrap thee but the foaming surge,
No kindly voices thy dark way to cheer,
No eye to give the tribute of a tear.
Alone, "unknell'd, uncoffin'd," thou hast died,
Without one gentle mourner lingering near;
Down the deep waters thou unseen didst glide,
With Ocean's countless dead to slumber side by side.
Thou sleep'st not with thy fathers. O'er thy bed,
The flowers that deck their tombs may never wave;
To plead remembrance for thee o'er thy head
No sculptur'd marble shall arise. Thy grave
Is the dark boundless deep, whose waters lave
The shores of empires. When thou sought'st thy rest
Within their silent depths, they only gave
A circling ripple, then with foaming crest
The booming waves roll'd over their unconscious guest.
'Tis said that far beneath the wild waves rushing,
Where sea-flowers bloom and fabled Peris dwell,
That there the restless waters cease their gushing,
And leave their dead within some sparkling cell,
Where gems are gleaming, and the lone sea shell
Is breathing its sweet music. And 'tis said
That Time, who weaveth over Earth a spell
Of blight and ruin, o'er the Ocean's dead
He passeth lightly on, with trackless, silent tread.
Then, though no marble e'er shall rise for thee,
No monument to mark thy last long home,
Thine ocean grave unhonored shall not be, --
The coral insect there shall rear a tomb
That age shall ne'er destroy; and there shall bloom
The fadeless ocean flowers. And though the glare
Of the bright sunbeams ne'er shall light its gloom,
Yet glancing eyes and forms unearthly fair
Shall throng around thy couch, and hymn a requiem there.
Now fare thee well! I will not weep that thou
Didst pass so soon away; for though thou wert
Still in thy boyhood's prime, and thy fair brow
Undimmed by age; yet sad was thy young heart,
For thou hadst seen the light of life depart,
And Love had thrown his wild and burning spell
Around thee, and with deep, insidious art
Had maddened thee. Then sounded loud the knell
Of all thy bright young dreams. My earliest friend, farewell!
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Christmas Lullabay
A Christmas Lullaby
Sleep, baby, sleep! The Mother
sings:
Heaven's angels kneel and fold
their wings.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
With swathes of scented hay Thy
bed
By Mary's hand at eve was
spread.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
At midnight came the shepherds,
they
Whom seraphs wakened by the
way.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
And three kings from the East
afar,
Ere dawn came, guided by the
star.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
They brought Thee gifts of gold
and gems,
Pure orient pearls, rich diadems.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Thou who liest slumbering there,
Art King of Kings, earth, ocean,
air.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Sleep, baby, sleep! The shepherds
sing:
Through heaven, through earth,
hosannas ring.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
poem by Akingbehin Daniel Murphy
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807 Opal Birthstone Of October
Opals - gems with quartz-like structure
Flash and sparkle rainbow colours
Ancient eye stone - deep red fire stone
Eastern Opals truth and faith stone
Pure white Opal - jet black Opal
Crystal clear the water Opal
Elusive - diffuse - mystery stone
Opals - gems with quartz-like structure.
Radiating nature's power
Opals found in far Australia
Central South and North America
Offer pureness hope and healing
Increase visual power and eyesight
Enhance insight faith and feeling
The Opal glows with inner light
Radiating nature's power.
Opal birthstone for October
Linked with star sign funky Libra
Weighs each Opal in his scales
Happiness it gives its wearer
The lovely Opal never fails.
Stone of fortune in Ancient Greece
In Ancient Rome the stone of peace.
Opal birthstone for October.
Opal jewel for love that's faithful
Opals gems with quartz-like structure
Radiating nature's power
Opal birthstone for October
October for birthstone Opal
Power nature's radiating
Structure like quartz with gems Opal
Faithful that's love for jewel Opal.
Dedicated to the Angel of October.
(John Knight - Freezing Colchester - 31 January 2010)
poem by John Knight
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