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Love Abused

What is there in the vale of life
Half so delighted as a wife,
When friendship, love, and peace combine
To stamp the marriage bond divine?
The stream of pure and genuine love
Derive its current from above;
And earth a second Eden shows,
Where'er the healing water flows;
But ah, if from the dikes and drains
Of sensual Nature's feverish veins,
Lust, like a lawless headstrong flood,
Impregnated with ooze and mud,
Descending fast on every side
Once mingles with the sacred tide,
Farewell the soul-enlivening scene!
The banks that wore a smiling green,
With rank defilement overspread,
Bewail their flowery beauties dead;
The stream polluted, dark, and dull,
Diffused into a Stygian pool,
Through life's last melancholy years
Is fed with overflowing tears,
Complaints supply the zephyr's part,
And sighs that heave a breaking heart.

poem by William Cowper
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I Thirst

FIRST VOICE.

I thirst, but earth cannot allay
The fever coursing through my veins,
The healing stream is far away--
It flows through Salem's lovely plains.

The murmurs of its crystal flow
Break ever o'er this world of strife;
My heart is weary, let me go,
To bathe it in the stream of life;

For many worn and weary hearts
Have bathed in this pure healing stream,
And felt their griefs and cares depart,
E'en like some sad forgotten dream.

SECOND VOICE.

"The Word is nigh thee, even in thy heart."

Say not, within thy weary heart,
Who shall ascend above,
To bring unto thy fever'd lips
The fount of joy and love.

Nor do thou seek to vainly delve
Where death's pale angels tread,
To hear the murmur of its flow
Around the silent dead.

Within, in thee is one living fount,
Fed from the springs above;
There quench thy thirst till thou shalt bathe
In God's own sea of love.

poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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To Lady Eleanor Butler and the Honourable Miss Ponsonby,

A stream to mingle with your favorite Dee
Along the Vale of Meditation flows;
So styled by those fierce Britons, pleased to see
In Nature's face the expression of repose,
Or, haply there some pious Hermit chose
To live and die -- the peace of Heaven his aim,
To whome the wild sequestered region owes
At this late day, its sanctifying name.
Glyn Cafaillgaroch, in the Cambrian tongue,
In ourse the Vale of Friendship, let this spot
Be nam'd, where faithful to a low roof'd Cot
On Deva's banks, ye have abode so long,
Sisters in love, a love allowed to climb
Ev'n on this earth, above the reach of time.

poem by William Wordsworth
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A Soldier Uniform

There lay the young soldier, see, from his side,
Flows swiftly the current whose dark pulsing tide
Is bearing away the bright sands of life,
And closing forever this wild dream of strife.

Farewell! life is o'er, earth fades from his sight,
Around him is closing death's long dreamless night.
Then softly as star-light melts into day,
On pinions of Angels his soul passed away.

And who was he? A young soldier boy,
Of his home the pride and joy;
The pet and darling of every heart,
That in his young life has shared a part.

His fond Mother blessed him and looked up above,
Commending to Heaven the child of her love.
Then parting the flowers they laid him to rest,
And heaped the green sod o'er the young soldier breast.

Fold it up carefully, lay it aside,
Gently touch it and look upon it with pride.
For close it be to his Mother heart for evermore
The uniform her son had wore.

poem by Othel Cowan
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Song

Slow spreads the gloom my soul desires--
The sun from India's shore retires--
To EVAN'S banks with temp'rate ray,
Home of my youth! he leads the day.
O banks to me for ever dear!
O stream, whose murmurs still I hear!
All, all my hopes of bliss reside
Where EVAN mingles with the CLYDE .

II.

And she in simple beauty drest,
Whose image lives within my breast,
Who trembling heard my parting sigh,
And long pursued me with her eye!
Does she, with heart unchang'd as mine,
Oft in the vocal bowers recline?
Or where yon grot o'erhangs the tide,
Muse, while the EVAN meets the CLYDE ?

III.

Ye lofty banks that EVAN bound,
Ye lavish woods that wave around,
And o'er the stream your shadows throw,
Which softly winds so far below--
What secret charm to mem'ry brings
All that on EVAN'S border springs?
Sweet banks!--ye bloom by MARY'S side!
Blest stream!--she views thee haste to CLYDE!

IV.

Can all the wealth of INDIA'S coast
Atone for years in absence lost?
Return, ye moments of delight,
With richer treasures bless my sight!
Swift from this desert let me part,
And fly to meet a kindred heart!
Nor more may aught my steps divide
From that dear stream which flows to CLYDE.

poem by Helen Maria Williams
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The German Student’s Love-Song

BY the rush of the Rhine's broad stream,
Down whose rapid tide
We sailed as in some sweet dream
Sitting side by side;
By the depth of its clear blue wave
And the vine-clad hills,
Which gazed on its heart and gave
Their tribute rills;

By the mountains, in purple shade,
And those valleys green
Where our bower of rest was made,
By the world unseen;
By the notes of the wild free bird,
Singing over-head
When nought else in the sunshine stirr'd
Round our flowery bed;

By these, and by Love's power divine,
I have no thought but what is thine!
II.

By the glance of thy radiant eyes,
Where a glory shone
That was half of the summer skies
And half their own;
By the light and yet fervent hold
Of thy gentle hand,--
(As the woodbines the flowers enfold
With their tender band

By thy voice when it breathes in song,
And the echo given
By lips that to Earth belong,
Float up to Heaven;
By the gleams on thy silken hair
At the sunset hour,
And the breadth of they forehead fair
With its thoughtful power;

By these, and by Love's soul divine,
I have no hope but what is thine!
III.

By the beauty and stilness round
When the lake's lone shore
Scarce echoed the pleasant sound
Of the distant oar;
By the moonlight which softly fell
On all objects near,
And thy whisper seemed like a spell
In thy Lover's ear;

By the dreams of the restless past,
And the hope that came
Like sunshine in shadow cast
With thy gentle name;
By the beat of thy good true heart
Where pure thoughts have birth;
By thy tears, when Fate bade us part,
And thy smiles of mirth;

By these, and by Love's power divine,
I have no hope but what is thine!
IV.

By the gloom of those holy fanes
Where the light stream'd through
Dim orange and purple panes
On the aisles below;
By the ruin'd and roofless wall
Of that castle high,
With its turrets so grey and tall
In the clear blue sky;

By beauty, because its light
Should thy portion be,
And whatever is fair and bright
Seems a part of thee;
And by darkness and blank decay,
Because they tell
What the world would be, THOU away,
Whom I love so well;

By these, and by Love's power divine,
My heart, my soul, my life, are thine!

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Sonnet. The sun and stream

As some dark stream within a cavern's breast,
Flows murmuring, moaning for the distant sun,
So ere I met thee, murmuring its unrest,
Did my life's current coldly, darkly run.
And as that stream, beneath the sun's full gaze,
Its separate course and life no more maintains,
But now absorbed, transfused far o'er the plains,
It floats, etherealized in those warm rays;
So in the sunlight of thy fervid love,
My heart, so long to earth's dark channels given,
Now soars, all pain, all doubt, all ill above,
And breathes the ether of the upper heaven:
So thy high spirit holds and governs mine;
So is my life, my being, lost in thine!

poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Pure Life

Where is your life going?
Is your water in a waterfall, dropping, and getting worse?
Or is it filling your glass, overflowing, and getting better?
Is your water still there?
Not evaporating?
Being dried up by the sun?
Are you losing time?
Do you watch how your water flows?
Water is pure and signifies life.
How is your life?
Or are you sad, with your water raining tears?
Is your water warm or cold?
Is your water steam or ice?
Is your soul cold or warm?
I hope your water is overflowing like a fountain with joy.
Not everyone's water has to be evaporating.
Remember to always watch where lifes heading.
Because maybe your water will mix and lives will intertwine.
Be with that person forever.

poem by Natalie Vail
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Sonnet XXXII. To Melancholy

Written on the banks of the Arun, Oct. 1785.
WHEN latest Autumn spreads her evening veil,
And the grey mists from these dim waves arise,
I love to listen to the hollow sighs,
Through the half-leafless wood that breathes the gale:
For at such hours the shadowy phantom, pale,
Oft seems to fleet before the poet's eyes;
Strange sounds are heard, and mournful melodies,
As of night wanderers, who their woes bewail
Here, by his native stream, at such an hour,
Pity's own Otway I methinks could meet,
And hear his deep sighs swell the sadden'd wind!
O Melancholy!--such thy magic power,
That to the soul these dreams are often sweet,
And sooth the pensive visionary mind!

poem by Charlotte Smith
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True Love Vavroovahana Patra

True love wins at end with Divine Power;
Oath of lover and beloved translated into reality with God’s Desire.
Selfless love exists for a long period;
Lovers and beloved’s love peacefully being glad.

God is the witness of love affection;
With love’s flowers beautiful is creation.
Love’s blossoms bloom in a good society;
People of the society like with gaiety.

True love is beyond wealth;
Lovers like with mirth.
It is perennial, eternally dazzles as a star;
With profound love lovers content their desires.

Soul mingles with soul, derives peace;
Souls live with Divine Bliss.
Divine power helps each other;
With optimistic inspiration contents the desire.

True love dazzles in the pages of history;
Lovers derive peace, life is flowery.
Love does not care religion;
Beautiful is God’s creation.

poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Lines on reading some verses entitled "A Farewell to Love"

Oh, stern indeed must be that minstrel's heart,
In the world's dusty highway doomed to move,
Who with life's sunshine and its flowers can part,
Who strikes his harp, and sings, Farewell to Love!

To Love! that beam that colors all our light,
As the red rays illume the light of day;
Whose rose-hue, once extinguished from the sight,
Leaves the life-landscape of a dull, cold gray.

To Love! the ethereal, the Promethean spirit,
That bids this dust with life divine be moved;
The only memory that we still inherit
Of the lost Eden where our parents roved.

Oh, hopeless bard, recall that farewell strain,
Nor from thy beast let this fond faith depart;
Recall that utterance of thy cold disdain,
Thy doubt of Love, the atheism of the heart.

And on the altar reared within thy soul,
Let the rekindled flame again aspire
And guard it round by all things beautiful,
As vestal forms watched o'er the sacred fire; --

That fire that once extinguished on the shrine,
Gave fearful sign of coming woe to Rome,
As the quenched brightness of this light divine
Forebodes to thee a dark and loveless doom.

poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Psalm 46 part 1

The church's safety and triumph among national desolation.

God is the refuge of his saints,
When storms of sharp distress invade
Ere we can offer our complaints,
Behold him present with his aid.

Let mountains from their seats be hurled
Down to the deep, and buried there,
Convulsions shake the solid world,
Our faith shall never yield to fear.

Loud may the troubled ocean roar,
In sacred peace our souls abide,
While every nation, every shore,
Trembles, and dreads the swelling tide.

There is a stream, whose gentle flow
Supplies the city of our God;
Life, love, and joy still gliding through,
And wat'ring our divine abode.

That sacred stream, thine holy word,
That all our raging fear controls:
Sweet peace thy promises afford,
And give new strength to fainting souls.

Zion enjoys her Monarch's love,
Secure against a threat'ning hour;
Nor can her firm foundations move,
Built on his truth, and armed with power.

poem by Isaac Watts
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Pain And Time Strive Not

What part of the dread eternity
Are those strange minutes that I gain,
Mazed with the doubt of love and pain,
When I thy delicate face may see,
A little while before farewell?

What share of the world’s yearning-tide
That flash, when new day bare and white
Blots out my half-dream’s faint delight,
And there is nothing by my side,
And well remembered is farewell?

What drop in the grey flood of tears
That time, when the long day toiled through,
Worn out, shows nought for me to do,
And nothing worth my labour bears
The longing of that last farewell?

What pity from the heavens above,
What heed from out eternity,
What word from the swift world for me?
Speak, heed, and pity, O tender love,
Who knew’st the days before farewell!

poem by William Morris
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The Circumcision Of Christ

The year begins with Thee,
And Thou beginn'st with woe,
To let the world of sinners see
That blood for sin must flow.

Thine infant cries, O Lord,
Thy tears upon the breast,
Are not enough--the legal sword
Must do its stern behest.

Like sacrificial wine
Poured on a victim's head
Are those few precious drops of Thine,
Now first to offering led.

They are the pledge and seal
Of Christ's unswerving faith
Given to His Sire, our souls to heal,
Although it cost His death.

They to His Church of old,
To each true Jewish heart,
In Gospel graces manifold
Communion blest impart.

Now of Thy love we deem
As of an ocean vast,
Mounting in tides against the stream
Of ages gone and past.

Both theirs and ours Thou art,
As we and they are Thine;
Kings, Prophets, Patriarchs--all have part
Along the sacred line.

By blood and water too
God's mark is set on Thee,
That in Thee every faithful view
Both covenants might see.

O bond of union, dear
And strong as is Thy grace!
Saints, parted by a thousand year,
May thus in heart embrace.

Is there a mourner true,
Who fallen on faithless days,
Sighs for the heart-consoling view
Of those Heaven deigned to praise?

In spirit may'st thou meet
With faithful Abraham here,
Whom soon in Eden thou shalt greet
A nursing Father dear.

Would'st thou a poet be?
And would thy dull heart fain
Borrow of Israel's minstrelsy
One high enraptured strain?

Come here thy soul to tune,
Here set thy feeble chant,
Here, if at all beneath the moon,
Is holy David's haunt.

Art thou a child of tears,
Cradled in care and woe?
And seems it hard, thy vernal years
Few vernal joys can show?

And fall the sounds of mirth
Sad on thy lonely heart,
From all the hopes and charms of earth
Untimely called to part?

Look here, and hold thy peace:
The Giver of all good
E'en from the womb takes no release
From suffering, tears, and blood.

If thou would'st reap in love,
First sow in holy fear:
So life a winter's morn may prove
To a bright endless year.

poem by John Keble
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The Price Of Dead Love

His marriage is over but he has no tears
For the woman he was married to for just over two years
Though he miss his baby daughter when he comes home from work at night
In his marriage she was his one source of delight.

She is with his ex wife her mother who lives with her new man
And for him in her life his ex has only one plan
That he pay his alimony to her on Friday of every week
They no longer have common ground on which to speak.

On their wedding day he thought 'twould be for life
He was so in love with his beautiful wife
But just after two years of marriage love between them is dead
That the ways of love can be fickle no truer words said.

That his ex wife has left him for another he finds that as okay
But he misses his baby daughter when he comes home from work every day
That life has it's ups and downs it's always been this way
And the price of dead love it can be high to pay.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Nancy of the Vale

The western sky was purpled o'er
With every pleasing ray;
And flocks reviving felt no more
The sultry heats of day;

When from an hazel's artless bower
Soft warbled Strephon's tongue;
He blest the scene, he blest the hour,
While Nancy's praise he sung.

'Let fops with fickle falsehood range
The paths of wanton love,
While weeping maids lament their change,
And sadden every grove:

'But endless blessings crown the day
I saw fair Esham's dale!
And every blessing find its way
To Nancy of the Vale.

''Twas from Avona's banks the maid
Diffused her lovely beams,
And every shining glance display'd
The Naiad of the streams.

'Soft as the wild-duck's tender young,
That float on Avon's tide;
Bright as the water-lily, sprung,
And glittering near its side

'Fresh as the bordering flowers her bloom,
Her eye all mild to view;
The little halcyon's azure plume
Was never half so blue.

'Her shape was like the reed so sleek,
So taper, strait, and fair;
Her dimpled smile, her blushing cheek,
How charming sweet they were!

'Far in the winding vale retired,
This peerless bud I found,
And shadowing rocks and woods conspired
To fence her beauties round.

'That Nature in so lone a dell
Should form a nymph so sweet!
Or Fortune to her secret cell
Conduct my wandering feet!

'Gay lordlings sought her for their bride,
But she would ne'er incline:
'Prove to your equals true,' she cried,
'As I will prove to mine.

''Tis Strephon, on the mountain's brow,
Has won my right good will;
To him I gave my plighted vow,
With him I'll climb the hill.'

'Struck with her charms and gentle truth,
I clasp'd the constant fair;
To her alone I gave my youth,
And vow my future care.

'And when this vow shall faithless prove,
Or I those charms forego;
The stream that saw our tender love,
That stream shall cease to flow.'

poem by William Shenstone
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Two Rivers

Thy summer voice, Musketaquit,
Repeats the music of the rain;
But sweeter rivers pulsing flit
Through thee, as thou through the Concord Plain.

Thou in thy narrow banks art pent:
The stream I love unbounded goes
Through flood and sea and firmament;
Through light, through life, it forward flows.

I see the inundation sweet,
I hear the spending of the steam
Through years, through men, through Nature fleet,
Through love and thought, through power and dream.

Musketaquit, a goblin strong,
Of shard and flint makes jewels gay;
They lose their grief who hear his song,
And where he winds is the day of day.

So forth and brighter fares my stream,—
Who drink it shall not thirst again;
No darkness taints its equal gleam,
And ages drop in it like rain.

poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Batman And Catwoman

My glass is half-full and yours is half-empty,
But nature had put us together on this scale of love;
And like 'Batman and Catwoman',
We need to show to others how true love feels.

Take a catwalk and come to me with your love,
Down the stream where the water flows;
City-life is killing people like,
The female body lying next to me;
For i've only three days to prepare for your love.

Yahweh dried up the waters of the Red Sea and,
They passed through to the other side of the land;
So like the 'Batman and Catwoman';
Do give me the feelings of love tonight.

She got off the donkey and went to the spring of water,
But i will sleep with you like a virgin tonight;
Because the mosquitoes do not know my name and,
You will still remember the day that you stood neked before me.

'Batman and Catwoman',
Your eyes have seen me and have met my love;
And your legs do walk to my house always,
Because i am the one that your haert needs.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Again

Like an angel out the sky you came
Clearing up all the clouds, the sadness and the rain
So pure and healing was the love you bring
I knew inside... ( it felt so right )
For me, Ive struggled all my life
To find that thing that makes it right
With you it seems I may have found
Some other kind of love
I will love you all my life
Always be by your side
And I will give you all I have
cause you gave me peace and joy
Again, again, again...
I was scared to let go and trust your love
After what Ive been through I had had enough
Whispering through your eyes, you never said a word
But something said... ( your hearts safe )
For me, Ive struggled all my life
To find that thing that makes it right
With you it seems I may have found
Some other kind of love
I will love you all my life
Always be by your side
And I will give you all I have
cause you gave me peace and joy
Again, again...
A friend is what youll always have in me
Im so grateful for the man you turned out to be
And it doesnt matter who you happen to meet
Youll forever be... ( a sacred part of me )
I will love you all my life
Always be by your side
And I will give you all I have
cause you gave me peace and joy
Again, again, again...

song performed by by Jennifer Lopez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Profound peace Vavroovahana Patra

Profound peace penetrates in hearts chanting hymns gaily;
Pure devotees dance delightfully.
Purity reigns in the environment;
Peace pervades in devotees with merriment.

Poets depict God’s name in various ways;
Peasants chanting hymns derive gay.
People of all religions praying God derive peace;
Peace of mind is the Divine Bliss.

Peace lies in love, lettering God’s name repeatedly;
Poor people earning money live gaily.
Pleasure plays on the face of all creatures;
Pleasantly smiles the lovely Nature.

Positive thoughts take man to Divinity;
Paradise becomes a home with the bliss of Almighty.
Poetry endowed with god’s name is a stream of nectar;
Popular becomes the poet contenting devotees’ desire.

Pure souls meditate on supreme soul;
Purified persons’ desire is for salvation, their goal.
Patriotic love brings fraternity;
Pleasant poets depict verses with gaiety.