One Bumper at Parting
One bumper at parting! -- though many
Have circled the board since we met,
The fullest, the saddest of any
Remains to be crown'd by us yet.
The sweetness that pleasure hath in it
Is always so slow to come forth,
That seldom, alas, till the minute
It dies, do we know half its worth.
But come -- may our life's happy measure
Be all of such moments made up;
They're born on the bosom of Pleasure,
Thy die 'midst the tears of the cup.
As onward we journey, how pleasant
To pause and inhabit awhile
Those few sunny spots, like the present,
That 'mid the dull wilderness smile!
But Time, like a pitiless master,
Cries "Onward!" and spurs the gay hours --
Ah, never doth Time travel faster
Than when his way lies among flowers.
But come -- may our life's happy measure
Be all of such moments made up;
They're born on the bosom of Pleasure,
They die 'midst the tears of the cup.
We saw how the sun look'd in sinking,
The waters beneath him how bright;
And now, let our farewell of drinking
Resemble that farewell of light.
You saw how he finish'd by darting
His beam o'er a deep billow's brim --
So, fill up, let's shine at our parting,
In full liquid glory, like him.
And oh! may our life's happy measure
Of moments like this be made up,
'Twas born on the bosom of Pleasure,
It dies 'mid the tears of the cup.
poem by Thomas Moore
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Related quotes
My Gentle Harp
My gentle Harp, once more I waken
The sweetness of thy slumbering strain;
In tears our last farewell was taken,
And now in tears we meet again.
No light of joy hath o'er thee broken,
But, like those harps whose heavenly skill
Of slavery, dark as thine, hath spoken,
Thou hang'st upon the willows still.
And yet, since last thy chord resounded,
An hour of peace and triumph came,
And many an ardent bosom bounded
With hopes -- that now are turn'd to shame.
Yet even then, while Peace was singing
Her halcyon song o'er land and sea,
Though joy and hope to others bringing,
She only brought new tears to thee.
Then, who can ask for notes of pleasure,
My drooping Harp, from chords like thine?
Alas, the lark's gay morning measure
As ill would suit the swan's decline!
Or how shall I, who love, who bless thee,
Invoke thy breath for Freedom's strains,
When even the wreaths in which I dress thee
Are sadly mix'd -- half flowers, half chains?
But come -- if yet thy frame can borrow
One breath of joy, oh, breathe for me,
And show the world, in chains and sorrow,
How sweet thy music still can be;
How gaily, even 'mid gloom surrounding,
Thou yet canst wake at pleasure's thrill --
Like Memnon's broken image sounding,
'Mid desolation tunefull still!
poem by Thomas Moore
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Revelations
The clock on the wall
ticks away my passing life.
Occasionally I think back
at all the things I have done.
Some were good, some were bad,
and some made people happy
filling them with laughter.
Some made people sad
and filled their moments with tears,
some made people angry
making them swear a lot.
Some things I’ve said
filled minds with love
showing someone cared.
Of course, everyone is like this
as we pass down
life’s long and winding road.
Some things we say we cannot take back
and were never meant to be said.
Some were born out of anger
and others born out of frustration,
but none were born out of jealousy
that can so often ruin lives.
Then I look towards the future
and see a half empty bowl
with bits and pieces still dwelling there within,
and realise I have to fill that bowl
with good things in my life.
2 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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Ne'er Ask the Hour
Ne'er ask the hour -- what is it to us
How Time deals out his treasures?
The golden moments lent us thus
Are not his coin, but Pleasure's.
If counting them o'er could add to their blisses,
I'd number each glorious second:
But moments of joy are, like Lesbia's kisses,
Too quick and sweet to be reckon'd.
Then fill the cup -- what is it to us
How time his circle measures?
The fairy hours we call up thus
Obey no wand but Pleasure's.
Young Joy ne'er thought of counting hours,
Till Care, one summer's morning,
Set up, among his smiling flowers,
A dial, by way of warning.
But Joy loved better to gaze on the sun,
As long as its light was glowing,
Than to watch with old Care how the shadow stole on,
And how fast that light was going.
So fill the cup -- what is it to us
How time his circle measures?
The fairy hours we call up thus
Obey no wand but Pleasure's.
poem by Thomas Moore
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Farewell Misunderstandings - Parody John Dryden - Farewell, Ungrateful Traitor!
Farewell, misunderstandings
Farewell, past perjury!
Let not unhappy landings
void voyage verity.
The pleasure of possessing
surpasses all expressing
though bitter-sweet its blessing
once seemed, heave-ho heart’s pain!
If upgrades site proposes
can't counter weary tears
when downgrade fate opposes
encounters change of gears,
those trophies once adorning
night, morning, witness mourning,
departure tells no dawning
when Judgement Day appears.
Deceptions past prepare us,
for neither pity, pain,
though some say: “Should you leave us,
has journey proved in vain? ”
Before you have denied it
there is no bliss beside it
yet she that once has tried it
shall find joy where all gain.
Some passion have pretended,
as game aimed to obtain
your charms – their charm soon ended,
the charmer you disdain.
Past tears have taken measure
of losing precious treasure,
but parting seems slight pleasure
when sharing hopes again.
© Jonathan Robin 16 June 2007 Parody John Dryden - Farewell, Ungrateful Traitor! revised 19 October 2008 for previous version see below
Farewell, misunderstandings
Farewell, past perjury!
Let not unhappy landings
Presume life’s verity.
The pleasure of possessing
Surpasses all expressing
Though bitter-sweet its blessing
Once seemed, - farewell Love’s pain.
Deceptions past prepare us,
For neither pity, pain,
Who’ll say to love “You leave us,
The voyage was in vain! ”
Before you have denied it
There is no bliss beside it
But she that once has tried it
Will find love where all gain.
Some passion have pretended,
As game aimed to obtain
Your charms – their charm soon ended,
The charmer you disdain.
Past tears did take the measure
From losing precious treasure,
But dying is no pleasure
When love’s wheel spins again.
© Jonathan Robin 16 June 2007 Parody John Dryden - Farewell, Ungrateful Traitor!
Author notes
Farewell, Ungrateful Traitor!
Farewell, ungrateful traitor!
Farewell, my perjured swain!
Let never injured creature
Believe a man again
The pleasure of possessing
Surpasses all expressing
But 'tis too short a blessing,
And Love too long a pain.
It's easy to decieve us,
In pity of your pain,
But when we love you leave us,
To rail at you in vain.
Before we have descried it
There is no bliss beside it
But she that once has tried it
Will never love again.
The passion you pretended,
Was only to obtain;
But when the charm is ended,
The charmer you disdain.
Your love by ours we measure
Till we have lost our treasure,
But dying is a pleasure
When living is a pain.
John Henry DRYDEN 1631_1700
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Song III: It Grew Up Without Heeding
Love is enough: it grew up without heeding
In the days when ye knew not its name nor its measure,
And its leaflets untrodden by the light feet of pleasure
Had no boast of the blossom, no sign of the seeding,
As the morning and evening passed over its treasure.
And what do ye say then?--That Spring long departed
Has brought forth no child to the softness and showers;
--That we slept and we dreamed through the Summer of flowers;
We dreamed of the Winter, and waking dead-hearted
Found Winter upon us and waste of dull hours.
Nay, Spring was o'er-happy and knew not the reason,
And Summer dreamed sadly, for she thought all was ended
In her fulness of wealth that might not be amended;
But this is the harvest and the garnering season,
And the leaf and the blossom in the ripe fruit are blended.
It sprang without sowing, it grew without heeding,
Ye knew not its name and ye knew not its measure,
Ye noted it not mid your hope and your pleasure;
There was pain in its blossom, despair in its seeding,
But daylong your bosom now nurseth its treasure.
poem by William Morris
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Phantasmagoria CANTO VII ( Sad Souvenaunce )
"WHAT'S this?" I pondered. "Have I slept?
Or can I have been drinking?"
But soon a gentler feeling crept
Upon me, and I sat and wept
An hour or so, like winking.
"No need for Bones to hurry so!"
I sobbed. "In fact, I doubt
If it was worth his while to go -
And who is Tibbs, I'd like to know,
To make such work about?
"If Tibbs is anything like me,
It's POSSIBLE," I said,
"He won't be over-pleased to be
Dropped in upon at half-past three,
After he's snug in bed.
"And if Bones plagues him anyhow -
Squeaking and all the rest of it,
As he was doing here just now -
I prophesy there'll be a row,
And Tibbs will have the best of it!"
Then, as my tears could never bring
The friendly Phantom back,
It seemed to me the proper thing
To mix another glass, and sing
The following Coronach.
'AND ART THOU GONE, BELOVED GHOST?
BEST OF FAMILIARS!
NAY THEN, FAREWELL, MY DUCKLING ROAST,
FAREWELL, FAREWELL, MY TEA AND TOAST,
MY MEERSCHAUM AND CIGARS!
THE HUES OF LIFE ARE DULL AND GRAY,
THE SWEETS OF LIFE INSIPID,
WHEN thou, MY CHARMER, ART AWAY -
OLD BRICK, OR RATHER, LET ME SAY,
OLD PARALLELEPIPED!'
Instead of singing Verse the Third,
I ceased - abruptly, rather:
But, after such a splendid word
I felt that it would be absurd
To try it any farther.
So with a yawn I went my way
To seek the welcome downy,
And slept, and dreamed till break of day
Of Poltergeist and Fetch and Fay
And Leprechaun and Brownie!
For year I've not been visited
By any kind of Sprite;
Yet still they echo in my head,
Those parting words, so kindly said,
"Old Turnip-top, good-night!"
poem by Lewis Carroll
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Stage Love
WHEN the game began between them for a jest,
He played king and she played queen to match the best;
Laughter soft as tears, and tears that turned to laughter,
These were things she sought for years and sorrowed after.
Pleasure with dry lips, and pain that walks by night;
All the sting and all the stain of long delight;
These were things she knew not of, that knew not of her,
When she played at half a love with half a lover.
Time was chorus, gave them cues to laugh or cry;
They would kill, befool, amuse him, let him die;
Set him webs to weave to-day and break to-morrow,
Till he died for good in play, and rose in sorrow.
What the years mean; how time dies and is not slain;
How love grows and laughs and cries and wanes again;
These were things she came to know, and take their measure,
When the play was played out so for one man’s pleasure.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The Grief Of The Heart
The grief of the heart
Is hard to measure
For pain that you feel
is like a pleasure
That only you
can feel inside
Which cover life's area
Both narrow and wide
So don't stop tears
If you feel bad
let it all out
And don't feel sad
And know in life
You have to face
All these things
With a trouble's trace
So don't try to measure
The grief of the heart
For its something to feel
Just like a pleasure.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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What's Important?
Where is the beginning?
Where is the end?
Does anyone really
know, my friend?
What does it matter?
What does it mean?
It's the in-between stuff
that creates the scenes
of your life.
For some are born poor
and end up with money.
Some are born rich
and end with not any.
So money's not how
to measure your worth.
It can be gone in a minute.
Those that measure their worth
by faith have a life
with everything in it.
Peace of mind,
beauty to find,
time to unwind
and time to be kind,
and that's the secret
to success in your life.
Beginnings and ends, forgot,
but the in-betweens are not.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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In the Morning of Life
In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown,
And its pleasures in all their new lustre begin,
When we live in a bright-beaming world of our own,
And the light that surrounds us is all from within;
Oh 'tis not, believe me, in that happy time
We can love, as in hours of less transport we may; --
Of our smiles, of our hopes, 'tis the gay sunny prime,
But affection is truest when these fade away.
When we see the first glory of youth pass us by,
Like a leaf on the stream that will never return,
When our cup, which had sparkled with pleasure so high,
First tastes of the other, the dark-flowing urn;
Then, then in the time when affection holds sway
With a depth and a tenderness joy never knew;
Love, nursed among pleasures, is faithless as they,
But the love born of Sorrow, like Sorrow, is true.
In climes full of sunshine, though splendid the flowers,
Their sighs have no freshness, their odour no worth;
'Tis the cloud and the mist of our own Isle of showers
That call the rich spirit of fragrancy forth.
So it is not 'mid splendour, prosperity, mirth,
That the depth of Love's generous spirit appears;
To the sunshine of smiles it may first owe its birth,
But the soul of its sweetness is drawn out by tears.
poem by Thomas Moore
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Night Comes Creeping
Night comes creeping slowly o'er me,
Like a vapor cold and gray;
Dim the track that lies before me,
Lost the lingering smile of day.
As a river, nearing ocean,
Drops the brooklet's merry bell,
I forget hope's wild emotion;
Love and life, farewell, farewell!
Eyes above me raining sorrow,
Lips too tender to be true,
In the sunshine of tomorrow
Glow and sweetness shall renew.
I have trod a weary measure,
Fairy-tales no more I tell.
False is pain, and fleeting pleasure;
Love and life, farewell, farewell!
Softly through the darkened heaven,
Like a vision in the night,
Float the purple wings of even;
No more laughter, no more light.
Close mine eyes, worn out with weeping,
Weary pulses rest as well!
In the dust and silence sleeping,
Love and life, farewell, farewell!
poem by Rose Terry Cooke
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Peace ambassador
"Why are you smiling always? "
"What are the secrets and ways? "
I have no trademark or special key
I think of the same and always pray almighty
I have been named by parents
As is the tradition with some consent
Those babies are to be named after
For the identification and laughter
Babies are after al heavenly gift
Suddenly you find attitudinal change or shift
In a man or in entire family
They forget pain even easily
If they are made brand ambassadors
Half of the battles may be won with honor
There won't be any bitterness or bloodshed
As world is likely to be happily led
"Little smile is worth mullions"
Did you ever observe man returning to pavilion?
Dejected, defeated and above all fully grounded
Nothing seems to him more sounded
I have seen the beautiful smile on face
That has kept me away from mad chase
I find answer in lovely and carefree smile
It' worth and if you measure it meanwhile
How beautiful garden comes up on spring?
As if to remove all kind of unhappiness and bring
The pleasure for mankind in different style
That was miles away or simply filed
I am "hasmukh"* that means smiling man
So people otherwise may find chance to comment
To tease me in most elegant way not to offend
And remind me of the pleasure island
*Hasmukh…. Smiling man
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Waving to moments passing by
Moments happy moments
people think about them
people write about them
people talk about them
people hope about them
I see moments
lots of moments
but I wave to my moments
as they pass me by...
My life is a ship
on an Ocean deep
passing by is the ship 'Could've been'
it holds all my moments in its keep
I stand on my lifes deck
waving to moments till they're just a speck
Moments happy moments
people live them
people grab them
people make them
people savour them
but I wave to my moments
as they pass me by...
Goodbye 'Could've been'
Goodbye moments...
poem by Michelle Melody
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Farewell
As we travel Life's weary journey,
And plod through the gathering years,
With our burdens of care and sorrow,
O'er a pathway bedewed with tears.
If, perchance, for a fleeting moment
Our hearts should with rapture swell,
We have added but one more sorrow,
When we bid the glad time "Farewell".
I have watched the bright dawn awaking,
And noted each changing light,
As the sun, in its morning splendour,
Dispelled the dark gloom of night.
I have welcomed its bright rays stealing
Over hill-top, and wood, and dell;
Yet, my joy was alloyed with sorrow,
As I bade the bright stars "Farewell".
I have seen the red sun descending
To its home in the glowing west,
Whilst the tremulous voice of nature
Was solemnly lulled to rest.
I have welcomed the stars, appearing,
And greeted them one by one,
Yet, my greeting was toned with sadness,
As I said "Farewell" to the sun.
When we welcome the summer sunshine,
Farewell to the flowers of Spring.
Adieu to the fruits of Autumn,
When we welcome the frosty king.
Good-bye to the joys of childhood,
When vigorous youth appears;
Then - a season of strife and turmoil,
And - farewell to the vanished years.
I am sighing a farewell message,
As I sit in the gathering gloom.
Farewell to all earthly sorrows,
Then - rest, in the silent tomb.
Farewell to the trees, and flowers,
To mountain, and stream, and dell,
Farewell to the glorious sunlight,
To the moon and stars, "Farewell"
poem by Thomas E. Spencer
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To A Special Person
I sometimes wonder if you realise
How special you are, in my eyes?
Or if you have even the slightest clue
That my affections for you, are really true?
To my life, you add some much needed light.
You believe that my future could be so bright.
When I am with you, I can't help but smile;
It makes me feel happy, if only for a while.
To other people, you often sing my praise.
You can brighten up even the darkest days.
You always champion all that I achieve;
In my efforts, you always seem to believe.
I love your motherly attention and affection.
You always point me in the right direction.
Being by your side is always so much fun.
In my eyes, you're just like a second mum.
Time spent with you, is always a pleasure;
There are many moments that I will treasure.
Me, you always do your very best to include.
When we meet, you're in such a happy mood.
To me, you are always so extremely sweet.
Being in your company just cannot be beat.
To spend time with you, I travel so very far;
I wonder if you know just how special you are?
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Caged Thrush Freed and Home Again (Villanelle)
"Men know but little more than we,
Who count us least of things terrene,
How happy days are made to be!
"Of such strange tidings what think ye,
O birds in brown that peck and preen?
Men know but little more than we!
"When I was borne from yonder tree
In bonds to them, I hoped to glean
How happy days are made to be,
"And want and wailing turned to glee;
Alas, despite their mighty mien
Men know but little more than we!
"They cannot change the Frost's decree,
They cannot keep the skies serene;
How happy days are made to be
"Eludes great Man's sagacity
No less than ours, O tribes in treen!
Men know but little more than we
How happy days are made to be."
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Song
Who hath his fancy pleased
With fruits of happy sight,
Let here his eyes be raised
On Nature's sweetest light;
A light which doth dissever
And yet unite the eyes,
A light which, dying never,
Is cause the looker dies.
She never dies, but lasteth
In life of lover's heart;
He ever dies that wasteth
In love his chiefest part:
Thus is her life still guarded
In never-dying faith;
Thus is his death rewarded,
Since she lives in his death.
Look then, and die! The pleasure
Doth answer well the pain:
Small loss of mortal treasure,
Who may immortal gain!
Immortal be her graces,
Immortal is her mind;
They, fit for heavenly places--
This, heaven in it doth bind.
But eyes these beauties see not,
Nor sense that grace descries;
Yet eyes deprived be not
From sight of her fair eyes--
Which, as of inward glory
They are the outward seal,
So may they live still sorry,
Which die not in that weal.
But who hath fancies pleased
With fruits of happy sight,
Let here his eyes be raised
On Nature's sweetest light!
poem by Philip Sidney
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Pain Is So Close To Pleasure
Words and music by freddie mercury and john deacon
Ooh ooh pain is so close to pleasure oh yeah
Sunshine and rainy weather go hand in hand together all
Your life
Ooh ooh pain is so close to pleasure everybody knows
One day we love each other then were fighting one another
All the time
When I was young and just getting started
And people talked to me they sounded broken hearted
Then I grew up and got my imagination
And all I wanted was to start a new relation
So in love but love had a bad reaction
I was looking for some good old satisfaction
But pain is all I got when all I needed was some love and
Affection
Ooh ooh pain is so close to pleasure yeah yeah
Sunshine and rainy weather go hand in hand together all
Your life
Pain and pleasure
Ooh ooh pain and pleasure
When your plans go wrong and you turn out the light
But inside of your mind you have to put up a fight
Where are the answers that were all searching for
Theres nothing in this world to be sure of anymore
Some days youre feeling good some days youre feeling bad
But if youre feeling happy someone else is always sad
Let the sweetness of love wipe the tears from your face
For better for worse so lets make the best of the rest of our
Years
Ooh ooh pain is so close to pleasure I told you so
Sunshine and rainy weather go hand in hand together all
Your life
Pain and pleasure
Ooh ooh pain is so close to pleasure yeah yeah
Sunshine and rainy weather go hand in hand together all
Your life
All your life
Pain - pleasure ....
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Do You Measure Up?
If you measure yourself by ambition,
There will always be someone more ambitious than you.
If you measure yourself by money,
There is always someone wealthier than you.
If you measure yourself by power,
There is always someone more powerful than you.
If you measure yourself with material things,
There is always someone with more stuff than you.
If you measure yourself by where you are in life,
There is always someone farther down the path than you.
If you measure yourself by appearance,
There is always someone that appears than you.
If you measure yourself by God,
Then we are all the same.
We are all wonderfully and beautifully made.
God is love.
And love has no end.
So in God's heart,
You will always measure up!
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Pain - II
If we couldn't be partners in pleasure,
Let us be partners in pain.
Let's stop pleasing each other,
And become a source of
Perpetual pain...
For in this loss of
Our mutual pleasure,
None of us have anything to gain.
We went in search of sanity
In a complaisant relationship
But now our animosity
Is driving us Insane.
We thought that the Sun
Would always shine -
Whatever be the weather,
We'll wait for the sunshine.
But now it seems,
After all these years,
The sunny side of our relationship
Has been overshadowed
By the clouds, the rain, the storm
And the hurricane -
Of immense pain.
We thought this relationship
Is a blessing from God
But we realized too late
That it's a curse on us,
Our life's evil bane.
And now, there is no need to feign
Trying to be happy and gay -
When we know of the deep pain
Engulfing us, deep down below -
Alas! We tried too much, too long,
Yet our time and efforts
All went in vain.
And what now remains in us -
Is not even a dropp of pleasure
Yet plentiful of rain -
The raining pain.
And we are drowning...
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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