On A Good Man (From The Greek)
Traveller, regret not me; for thou shalt find
Just cause of sorrow none in my decease,
Who, dying, children's children left behind,
And with one wife lived many a year in peace;
Three virtuous youths espoused my daughters three,
And oft their infants in my bosom lay,
Nor saw I one of all derived from me,
Touch'd with disease, or torn by death away.
Their duteous hands my funeral rites bestow'd,
And me, by blameless manners fitted well
To seek it, sent to the serene abode
Where shades of pious men forever dwell.
poem by William Cowper
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Related quotes
Birth-Day Ode 03
And wouldst thou seek the low abode
Where PEACE delights to dwell?
Pause Traveller on thy way of life!
With many a snare and peril rife
Is that long labyrinth of road:
Dark is the vale of years before
Pause Traveller on thy way!
Nor dare the dangerous path explore
Till old EXPERIENCE comes to lend his leading ray.
Not he who comes with lanthorn light
Shall guide thy groping pace aright
With faltering feet and slow;
No! let him rear the torch on high
And every maze shall meet thine eye,
And every snare and every foe;
Then with steady step and strong,
Traveller, shalt thou march along.
Tho' POWER invite thee to her hall,
Regard not thou her tempting call
Her splendors meteor glare;
Tho' courteous Flattery there await
And Wealth adorn the dome of State,
There stalks the midnight spectre CARE;
PEACE, Traveller! does not sojourn there.
If FAME allure thee, climb not thou
To that steep mountain's craggy brow
Where stands her stately pile;
For far from thence does PEACE abide,
And thou shall find FAME'S favouring smile
Cold as the feeble Sun on Heclas snow-clad side,
And Traveller! as thou hopest to find
That low and loved abode,
Retire thee from the thronging road
And shun the mob of human kind.
Ah I hear how old EXPERIENCE schools,
"Fly fly the crowd of Knaves and Fools
"And thou shalt fly from woe;
"The one thy heedless heart will greet
"With Judas smile, and thou wilt meet
"In every Fool a Foe!"
So safely mayest thou pass from these,
And reach secure the home of PEACE,
And FRIENDSHIP find thee there.
No happier state can mortal know,
No happier lot can Earth bestow
If LOVE thy lot shall share.
Yet still CONTENT with him may dwell
Whom HYMEN will not bless,
And VIRTUE sojourn in the cell
Of HERMIT HAPPINESS.
poem by Robert Southey
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Epitaphs
Her Mother's Epitaph
Here lies
A worthy matron of unspotted life,
A loving mother and obedient wife,
A friendly neighbor, pitiful to poor,
Whom oft she fed, and clothed with her store;
To servants wisely aweful, but yet kind,
And as they did, so they reward did find:
A true instructor of her family,
The which she ordered with dexterity,
The public meetings ever did frequent,
And in her closest constant hours she spent;
Religious in all her words and ways,
Preparing still for death, till end of days:
Of all her children, children lived to see,
Then dying, left a blessed memory.
Her Father's Epitaph
Within this tomb a patriot lies
That was both pious, just and wise,
To truth a shield, to right a wall,
To sectaries a whip and maul,
A magazine of history,
A prizer of good company
In manners pleasant and severe
The good him loved, the bad did fear,
And when his time with years was spent
In some rejoiced, more did lament.
1653, age 77
poem by Anne Bradstreet
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Thou Shalt Find Happiness
Thou shalt find Happiness
Thou shalt not seek the darkness
Nor to hide amongst its shadows
To recede into It’s cobwebs
And forever forget peace
But to come out from the rocks
Into the blinding light
Holding high your downcast head
Exposing your pale faced stare
Establishing an awareness yet unknown
Unto the emptiness that is
Open your heart to better things
Know peace or no peace
Thou shalt not linger in the hot musty places
Which have long since been your home
But to enter into the kingdom
That now awaits the id
A hand is outreached to find you
Places you’ve dared not go
To realities yet unreal
And too soft to touch
Release me from my bondage
My self-inflicted pain
Which I have been powerless to capture
On my own
Only happiness can bring happiness
Lead me there
Must I be clean to take a bath?
Wash me free
Thou shalt not allow this trek
To destroy all that is
Better things await.
Happiness
Like sand
Slipping idly by
I do not have the tools
On my own
My hand is out
There is little time
This is my happy poem
Find it while I can’t
July 4,2008
Lisa M. Callicott
poem by Lisa M. Callicott
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Christmas, 1880
Great-hearted child, thy very being
The Son
,
Who know'st the hearts of all us prodigals;-
For who is prodigal but he who has gone
Far from the true to heart it with the false?-
Who, who but thou, that, from the animals',
Know'st all the hearts, up to the Father's own,
Can tell what it would be to be alone!
Alone! No father!-At the very thought
Thou, the eternal light, wast once aghast;
A death in death for thee it almost wrought!
But thou didst haste, about to breathe thy last,
And call'dst out
Father
ere thy spirit passed,
Exhausted in fulfilling not any vow,
But doing his will who greater is than thou.
That we might know him, thou didst come and live;
That we might find him, thou didst come and die;
The son-heart, brother, thy son-being give-
We too would love the father perfectly,
And to his bosom go back with the cry,
Father, into thy hands I give the heart
Which left thee but to learn how good thou art!
There are but two in all the universe-
The father and his children-not a third;
Nor, all the weary time, fell any curse!
Not once dropped from its nest an unfledged bird
But thou wast with it! Never sorrow stirred
But a love-pull it was upon the chain
That draws the children to the father again!
O Jesus Christ, babe, man, eternal son,
Take pity! we are poor where thou art rich:
Our hearts are small; and yet there is not one
In all thy father's noisy nursery which,
Merry, or mourning in its narrow niche,
Needs not thy father's heart, this very now,
With all his being's being, even as thou!
poem by George MacDonald
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They Who Tread the Path of Labor
They who tread the path of labor follow where My feet have trod;
They who work without complaining, do the holy will of God;
Nevermore thou needest seek me; I am with thee everywhere;
Raise the stone, and thou shalt find Me, clease the wood and I am there.
Where the many toil together, there am I among My own;
Where the tired workman sleepeth, there am I with him alone:
I, the Peace that passeth knowledge, dwell amid the daily strife;
I, the Bread of Heav'n am broken in the sacrement of life.
Every task, however simple, sets the soul that does it free;
Every deed of love and mercy, done to man is done to Me.
Nevermore thou needest seek me; I am with thee everywhere;
Raise the stone, and thou shalt find Me; cleave the wood, and I am there.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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O servant where dost thou seek me
O servant, where dost thou seek Me?
O servant, where dost thou seek Me?
Lo! I am beside thee.
I am neither in temple nor in mosque:
I am neither in Kaaba nor in Kailash:
Neither am I in rites and ceremonies,
nor in Yoga and renunciation.
If thou art a true seeker, thou shalt at once see Me:
thou shalt meet Me in a moment of time.
Kabir says, ' O Sadhu! God is the breath of all breath.'
Children
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, 'Speak to us of Children.'
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Children Chapter IV
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, 'Speak to us of Children.'
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Sonnet XLI. To Tranquility
IN this tumultuous sphere, for thee unfit,
How seldom art thou found--Tranquillity!
Unless 'tis when with mild and downcast eye
By the low cradles thou delight'st to sit
Of sleeping infants--watching the soft breath,
And bidding the sweet slumberers easy lie;
Or sometimes hanging o'er the bed of death,
Where the poor languid sufferer--hopes to die.
Oh, beauteous sister of the halcyon peace!
I sure shall find thee in that heavenly scene
Where care and anguish shall their power resign;
Where hope alike, and vain regret shall cease,
And memory--lost in happiness serene,
Repeat no more--that misery has been mine!
poem by Charlotte Smith
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Of Moses And His Wife
This Moses was a fair and comely man,
His wife a swarthy Ethiopian;
Nor did his milk-white bosom change her sin.
She came out thence as black as she went in.
Now Moses was a type of Moses' law,
His wife likewise of one that never saw
Another way unto eternal life;
There's mystery, then, in Moses and his wife.
The law is very holy, just, and good,
And to it is espoused all flesh and blood;
But this its goodness it cannot bestow
On any that are wedded thereunto.
Therefore as Moses' wife came swarthy in,
And went out from him without change of skin,
So he that doth the law for life adore,
Shall yet by it be left a black-a-more.
poem by John Bunyan
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To The Muse Of The North
O muse that swayest the sad Northern Song,
Thy right hand full of smiting & of wrong,
Thy left hand holding pity; & thy breast
Heaving with hope of that so certain rest:
Thou, with the grey eyes kind and unafraid,
The soft lips trembling not, though they have said
The doom of the World and those that dwell therein.
The lips that smile not though thy children win
The fated Love that draws the fated Death.
O, borne adown the fresh stream of thy breath,
Let some word reach my ears and touch my heart,
That, if it may be, I may have a part
In that great sorrow of thy children dead
That vexed the brow, and bowed adown the head,
Whitened the hair, made life a wondrous dream,
And death the murmur of a restful stream,
But left no stain upon those souls of thine
Whose greatness through the tangled world doth shine.
O Mother, and Love and Sister all in one,
Come thou; for sure I am enough alone
That thou thine arms about my heart shouldst throw,
And wrap me in the grief of long ago.
poem by William Morris
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Sorrow for the death of a father lasts six months; sorrow for a mother, a year; sorrow for a wife, until another wife; sorrow for a son, forever.
And the children died
And the children died.
Our children kept dying.
Then our childrens child
picked up the struggle,
and they died.
Whether in Belfast, palestine, chile,
or Iraq. They, our children died.
When moneyed powered barons
enjoin to force their farce of alien
thoughts upon a righteous people
our children die.
They, our children continued to fight
and to die.Their bodies piled up.
Sorrow became our life, the blood from
their wounds glistens always in our eyes,
and they our children fight.
Whilst we listen to politicans imploring
us to accept their just peace.
And the children died...
WHY
poem by Johnoe Mc Guckin
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A Happy Man
When these graven lines you see,
Traveller, do not pity me;
Though I be among the dead,
Let no mournful word be said.
Children that I leave behind,
And their children, all were kind;
Near to them and to my wife,
I was happy all my life.
My three sons I married right,
And their sons I rocked at night;
Death nor sorrow never brought
Cause for one unhappy thought.
Now, and with no need of tears,
Here they leave me, full of years,--
Leave me to my quiet rest
In the region of the blest.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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When Jesus Left His Father's Throne
When Jesus left His Father’s throne,
He chose a humble birth;
Like us, unhonored and unknown,
He came to dwell on earth.
Like Him may we be found below,
In wisdom’s path of peace;
Like Him in grace and knowledge grow,
As years and strength increase.
Sweet were His words and kind His look,
When mothers round Him pressed;
Their infants in His arms He took,
And on His bosom blessed.
Safe from the world’s alluring harms,
Beneath His watchful eye,
Thus in the circle of His arms
May we forever lie.
When Jesus into Zion rode,
The children sang around;
For joy they plucked the palms and strewed
Their garments on the ground.
Hosanna our glad voices raise,
Hosanna to our King!
Should we forget our Savior’s praise,
The stones themselves would sing.
poem by James Montgomery
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Chaotic Explosions
World at war
Families falling apart
Everything is at a stand still
Not one heart is beating
Well that's what we would like to think
Tryant wanting your sons and daughters for no cause
News flash over one million people are killed each year, but he doesn't care it's his job
Children forced into foster care
Cause mommy and daddy aren't there
They're too busy gettin high
While their children are dying or starvation
This world is a chaotic explosion
Everyday children are being beaten by their own father, but not one expects it cause he's a cop
Drunk off his ass thinking it's going to solve hos problems
This world is corrupted
Feeding off hate and anger
Peace is never going to come
No matter how much people want it
The only peace you're going to have is in your mind
Can't sleep everything is going through your head
Can anyone give me an answer,
Or am i going to have to look for it
(9-5-05)
poem by Brandi Young
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Genesis BK XVI
(ll. 918-924) And unto Eve God spake in wrath: "Turn thee from
joy! Thou shalt live under man's dominion, sore smitten with
fear before him. With bitter sorrow shalt thou expiate thy sin,
waiting for death, bringing forth sons and daughters in the world
with grief and tears and lamentation."
(ll. 925-938) And on Adam the Eternal God, Author of life,
pronounced an evil doom: "Thou shalt seek another home, a joyless
dwelling. Naked and needy shalt thou suffer exile, shorn of thy
glory. Thy soul and body shall be cleft asunder. Lo! thou hast
sinned a grievous sin. Therefore shalt thou labour, winning thy
portion on the earth by toil, eating thy bread in the sweat of
thy brow while thou dwellest here, until that grim disease, which
first thou tasted in the apple, shall grip hard at thy heart. So
shalt thou die."
(ll. 939-951) Lo! now we know how our afflictions came upon us,
and mortal misery! Then the Lord of glory, our Creator, clothed
them with garments, and bade them cover their shame with their
first raiment. He drove them forth from Paradise into a narrower
life. By God's command a holy angel, with a sword of fire,
closed fast that pleasant home of peace and joy behind them. No
wicked, sinful man may walk therein, but the warden has strength
and power, dear unto God in virtue, who guards that life of
glory.
(ll. 952-964) Yet the Almighty Father would not take away from
Adam and from Eve, at once, all goodly things, though He withdrew
His favour from them. But for their comfort He left the sky
above them adorned with shining stars, gave them wide-stretching
fields, and bade the earth and sea and all their teeming
multitudes to bring forth fruits to serve man's earthly need.
After their sin they dwelt in a realm more sorrowful, a home and
native land less rich in all good things than was their first
abode, wherefrom He drove them out after their sin.
(ll. 965-987) Then, according to the word of God, Adam and Eve
begat children, as God had bidden. To them were born two goodly
sons, Abel and Cain: the books tell us how these brothers, first
of toilers, gained wealth and goods and store of food. One, the
first-born, tilled the fields; the other aided with his father's
cattle; and after many days they both brought offerings to God.
The Prince of angels, Lord of every creature, lifted up His eyes
on Abel's offering and would not look upon the gift of Cain. And
the heart of Cain was bitter; wrath shook his soul, and envy
burned within him. Then with his hands Cain wrought a deed of
shame, struck down his brother Abel, and poured his blood upon
the ground. The earth drank in his blood poured out in murder.
(ll. 987-1001) After that mortal blow came woe and tribulation.
From that shoot grew more and more a deadly bitter fruit, and the
boughs of sin stretched far and wide among the nations;
grievously the twigs of evil touched the sons of men (and do so
yet), and from them grew broad blades of wickedness. With
lamentation must we tell that tale of evil fate, not without
cause. Grievous the ruin the lovely woman wrought us by that
first of sins that ever men on earth had sinned against their
Maker since Adam first was filled with breath from the mouth of
God.
Your Children
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you.
And though they are with you, they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
Which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite.
And He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hands be for happiness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
So He loves the bow that is stable.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Epitaph On Two Young Men Of The Name Of Leitch, Who Were Drowned In Crossing The River Southesk
O thou! whose steps in sacred reverence tread
These lone dominions of the silent dead;
On this sad stone a pious look bestow,
Nor uninstructed read this tale of woe;
And while the sigh of sorrow heaves thy breast,
Let each rebellious murmur be suppress'd;
Heaven's hidden ways to trace, for us how vain!
Heaven's wise decrees, how impious to arraign!
Pure from the stains of a polluted age,
In early bloom of life they left the stage:
Not doom'd in lingering woe to waste their breath,
One moment snatch'd them from the power of Death:
They lived united, and united died;
Happy the friends whom Death cannot divide!
poem by James Beattie
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We're All God's Children
Album: Peace In The Valley
Here comes a Baptist, here comes a Jew
There goes a Mormon and a Muslim too
I see a Buddist and a Hindu
I see a Catholic and I see you
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
You like the day, and I like the night
He's into country and he's isn't quit
There's folks on the left and the far right
But that doesn't mean that we have to fight
We're all god's children
All god's children
Yeah, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
White folks, yellow folks, black and tan
On the same planet in the same plan
A feminist woman and a he man
We're all playin' the magic hand
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Oh, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
All god's children
Yeah, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
All god's children
We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Yeah, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all black and white
We're all precious in his sight
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Why can't we all be
One big happy family...
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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