The Sheik Of Sinai In 1830
I.
'Lift me without the tent, I say,-
Me and my ottoman,-
I'll see the messenger myself!
It is the caravan
From Africa, thou sayest,
And they bring us news of war?
Draw me without the tent, and quick!
As at the desert well
The freshness of the purling brook
Delights the tired gazelle,
So pant I for the voice of him
That cometh from afar!'
II.
The Scheik was lifted from his tent,
And thus outspake the Moor:-
'I saw, old Chief, the Tricolor
On Algiers' topmost tower-
Upon its battlements the silks
Of Lyons flutter free.
Each morning, in the market-place,
The muster-drum is beat,
And to the war-hymn of Marseilles
The squadrons pace the street.
The armament from Toulon sailed:
The Franks have crossed the sea.'
III.
'Towards the south, the columns marched
Beneath a cloudless sky:
Their weapons glittered in the blaze
Of the sun of Barbary;
And with the dusty desert sand
Their horses' manes were white.
The wild marauding tribes dispersed
In terror of their lives;
They fled unto the mountains
With their children and their wives,
And urged the clumsy dromedary
Up the Atlas' height.'
IV.
'The Moors have ta'en their vantage-ground,
The volleys thunder fast-
The dark defile is blazing
Like a heated oven-blast;
The lion hears the strange turmoil,
And leaves his mangled prey-
No place was that for him to feed;
And thick and loud the cries,
Feu!-Allah! Allah!-En avant!
In mingled discord rise;
The Franks have reached the summit-
They have won the victory!'
V.
'With bristling steel, upon the top
The victors take their stand:
Beneath their feet, with all its towns,
They see the promised land-
From Tunis, even unto Fez,
From Atlas to the seas.
The cavaliers alight to gaze,
And gaze full well they may,
Where countless minarets stand up
So solemnly and gray,
Amidst the dark-green masses
Of the flowering myrtle-trees.'
VI.
'The almond blossoms in the vale;
The aloe from the rock
Throws out its long and prickly leaves,
Nor dreads the tempest's shock:
A blessed land, I ween, is that,
Though luckless is its Bey.
There lies the sea-beyond lies France!
Her banners in the air
Float proudly and triumphantly-
A salvo! come, prepare!
And loud and long the mountains rang
With that glad artillery.'
VII.
''Tis they!' exclaimed the aged Scheik.
'I've battled by their side-
I fought beneath the Pyramids!
That day of deathless pride-
Red as thy turban, Moor, that eve,
Was every creek in Nile!
But tell me-' and he griped his hand-
'Their Sultaun. Stranger, say-
His form-his face-his posture, man?
Thou saw'st him in the fray?
His eye-what wore he?' But the Moor
Sought in his vest awhile.
VIII.
'Their Sultaun, Scheik, remains at home
Within his palace walls:
He sends a Pasha in his stead
To brave the bolts and balls.
He was not there. An Aga burst
For him through Atlas' hold.
Yet I can show thee somewhat too.
A Frankish Cavalier
Told me his effigy was stamped
Upon this medal here-
He gave me with others
For an Arab steed I sold.'
IX.
The old man took the golden coin:
Gazed steadfastly awhile,
If that could be the Sultaun
Whom from the banks of Nile
He guided o'er the desert path-
Then sighed and thus spake he-
''Tis not
his
eye-'tis not
his
brow-
Another face is there:
I never saw this man before-
His head is like a pear!
Take back thy medal, Moor-'tis not
That which I hoped to see.'
poem by William Edmondstoune Aytoun
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Related quotes
He used to have a tent show, a little tent show, and I thought I was going to get a job working one year on the tent show, but he closed it down and I never got to go out there, but anyway, he had a sax and played drums.
quote by Earl Scruggs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After A Dance At Malaga
In Malaga
at the base camp
you danced at some disco
and drank Bacardi
and coke and it was
well into the early hours
of the morning
when you left
with Mamie
tiptoeing between
tent ropes and the unlit
areas between
and she said
I can't find
where my tent is
and you said
I'd let you share mine
but that young army guy
is in mine
and three in a bed
is a bit cramped
but where is mine?
she said
searching around
touching tent ropes
as she went by
you stood watching
trying to decide
where your tent was
what are we to do?
she asked
let's go back
to the club
until it gets lighter
or we remember
where our tents are
you said
but I'm tired
she said
I want to go to bed
and sleep
you searched around
by the hedge of the field
and then said
wait
I know where
mine is now
and you led her
to the tent
and unzipped it
and there inside
was the army guy
fast asleep
you can come in here
if you like
you said
but she just stood there
in the semi dark
cussing into the night
come on in
and be quiet
you said
I want my tent
she said
I want my own bloody tent
ok go find it then
you said
and began to climb inside
wait
she said
in a hushed voice
and came over
to your tent
and looked in
what about him?
she asked
he's asleep
you replied
what will he say
and finds me here?
you gazed
at the sleeping soldier boy
his mouth open
his eyes closed
a soft snore
filling the air
either come in
or go elsewhere
you whispered
I can't
she said
not with him there
and so she turned
and wandered off
into the semi dark
another chance walking off
into the night
some things you hope for
you murmured
never come right.
poem by Terry Collett
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It's better to have a thousand enemies outside of the tent than one inside the tent.
For I Am A Nomad
I have not lived in a house since i brought you up,
But rather been moving from tent to tent always from one place to another;
For i am a nomad and i brought you up,
So you are now matured enough to take up your own decisions today.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Dont Nobody Bring Me No Bad News
(charlie smalls)
When I wake up in the afternoon
Which it pleases me to do
Dont nobody bring me no bad news
cause I wake up already negative
And Ive wired up my fuse
So dont nobody bring me no bad news
If were going to be buddies
Better bone up on the rules
cause dont nobody bring me no bad news
You can be my best of friends
As opposed to payin dues
But dont nobody bring me no bad news
No bad news
No bad news
Dont you ever bring me no bad news
cause Ill make you an offer, child
That you cannot refuse
So dont nobody bring me no bad news
When youre talking to me
Dont be cryin the blues
cause dont nobody bring me no bad news
You can verbalize and vocalize
But just bring me the clues
But dont nobody bring me no bad news
Bring some message in your head
Or in something you cant lose
But dont you ever bring me no bad news
If youre gonna bring me something
Bring me, something I can use
But dont you bring me no bad news
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We ought to be doing that with decent standard housing but if we have people who are absolutely on the streets in this case, I think it makes sense that tent cities are preferred to not having tent cities.
quote by Mike Lowry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballade Of The Royal Game Of Golf
There are laddies will drive ye a ba'
To the burn frae the farthermost tee,
But ye mauna think driving is a',
Ye may heel her, and send her ajee,
Ye may land in the sand or the sea;
And ye're dune, sir, ye're no worth a preen,
Tak' the word that an auld man'll gie,
Tak' aye tent to be up on the green!
The auld folk are crouse, and they craw
That their putting is pawky and slee;
In a bunker they're nae gude ava',
But to girn, and to gar the sand flee.
And a lassie can putt--ony she, -
Be she Maggy, or Bessie, or Jean,
But a cleek-shot's the billy for me,
Tak' aye tent to be up on the green!
I hae play'd in the frost and the thaw,
I hae play'd since the year thirty-three,
I hae play'd in the rain and the snaw,
And I trust I may play till I dee;
And I tell ye the truth and nae lee,
For I speak o' the thing I hae seen -
Tom Morris, I ken, will agree -
Tak' aye tent to be up on the green!
ENVOY.
Prince, faith you're improving a wee,
And, Lord, man, they tell me you're keen;
Tak' the best o' advice that can be,
Tak' aye tent to be up on the green!
poem by Andrew Lang
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The Himmaleh was known to stoop
481
The Himmaleh was known to stoop
Unto the Daisy low—
Transported with Compassion
That such a Doll should grow
Where Tent by Tent—Her Universe
Hung out its Flags of Snow—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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A Nomad
I have not lived in a house since i brought you up,
But rather i have been moving from tent to tent;
Because i am a nomad and i do move from place to place.
I brought you up this way and you have learnt a lot,
But you are matured enough to take up your own decisions.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Hope is a broker
While he was stitching the tent of the world,
Fate cut the tent’s ropes of his very life
As the broker of Hope sold him for nothing.
He wasn’t aware Hope was a broker.
16.12.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Marriage Breakers Tent
The Marriage Breakers Tent
‘Cuppa tea’, me mate said to me
‘Sure’, said I with a smile
‘Then I’ll be putting the kettle on
It will only take a wee while.’
We sat there in the twilight
Chattin’ as the sun set low
Sippin’ on our cups o’ tea
And watchin’ the campfire glow.
When – BANG – I fairly jumped
Flamin’ well caught me on the hop -
A rusty old truck had backfired
And came to a sudden stop.
This old bloke and his wife climbed out
And started to unpack their load
Cursin’ as they threw their stuff
Right across the road.
Then out they come with the canvas
Old and ripped and spent
Me mate said, will you not be lookin’ at that
It’s a marriage breakers tent.
It was enormous – humungus
It was coloured green and brown
And tryin’ to erect this type of tent
Could, well, perhaps bring a marriage down.
‘You’ve got it round the wrong way
You’ve got it inside out
That’s not the door it’s the window’
The wife began to shout.
‘Leave me alone, who’s doin’ this
Get out of me flamin’ hair
Go and blow the mattress up
And get rid of all that air.’
The night came down and the moon went up
But the tent was far from done
‘Bet you a fiver’, me mate grinned at me
‘That it’s not up before the sun’.
And he could have been right, I surmised
As they kept up the hullabaloo
‘Don’t tie that flamin’ rope down there
I’ll trip over it when I get up to go to the loo.’
On and on and on they went
Til finally – ‘That’ll do – it’s good enough
I’ll fix the rest tomorrow
But now I’m really stuffed’.
‘Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow – always tomorrow
Why can’t you get things right
Why, you said yourself this morning
We’re only camping over night.’
‘Another cuppa’, said me mate
And I knew just what he meant
When he said, ‘will you be not looking at that
It’s a marriage breakers tent.’
Bill Clohesy 2007 - Inspired by Matt at Lake School Koroit - 2007
poem by Bill Clohesy
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The Pride To Be An African
My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of which everybody imitates
My Africa of which culture exceed the Greek
My Africa of which everyone is jealous of
My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of enormous natural endowment
My Africa of Non-Violence
My Africa of Amorous populates
My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of patriot men and women
My Africa of shelter and vintage hospitality
My Africa of great ancestral mythology
My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa that bore fruits of black diamonds
My Africa which is a gift to the whole world
My Africa of great leadership
My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of learned youths
My Africa of a bright generation
My Africa true tradition
My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of black pageant women
My Africa of strong men
My Africa from who we all hail from
For every African deserves a Nobel Prize in
Existence.
poem by Fasan paul
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Liaison
A big bud of moon hangs out of the twilight,
Star-spiders spinning their thread
Hang high suspended, withouten respite
Watching us overhead.
Come then under the trees, where the leaf-cloths
Curtain us in so dark
That here we’re safe from even the ermin-moth’s
Flitting remark.
Here in this swarthy, secret tent,
Where black boughs flap the ground,
You shall draw the thorn from my discontent,
Surgeon me sound.
This rare, rich night! For in here
Under the yew-tree tent
The darkness is loveliest where I could sear
You like frankincense into scent.
Here not even the stars can spy us,
Not even the white moths write
With their little pale signs on the wall, to try us
And set us affright.
Kiss but then the dust from off my lips,
But draw the turgid pain
From my breast to your bosom, eclipse
My soul again.
Waste me not, I beg you, waste
Not the inner night:
Taste, oh taste and let me taste
The core of delight.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Evil Land
We meet in an evil land
That is near to the gates of hell.
I wait for thy command
To serve, to speed or withstand.
And thou sayest, I do not well?
Oh Love, the flowers so red
Are only tongues of flame,
The earth is full of the dead,
The new-killed, restless dead.
There is danger beneath and o'erhead.
And I guard thy gates in fear
Of words thou canst not hear,
Of peril and jeopardy,
Of signs thou canst not see—
And thou sayest 'tis ill that I came?
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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My Rest Is Peace For Me
My rest deserves peace, justice rolls
In the shadows for the heat of heaven.
Sun’s work is a doing, moons belong,
But where does the camel roll over?
My place in the arena of thought
Is fought over by the generals of a tent
That houses the rich, the tent we hand over.
Palaces will be built for those who worship
In the competent ways known to God,
A man visits the world in possessed spirits.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Don’t Cry For Me Africa
Don’t cry for me Africa
Because I will never let you out of my mind
I hear your voices people of Africa
I hear your cries people of Africa
I see pain in your eyes people of Africa
It is hard to describe what you people of Africa are going through
Poverty strikes you all people of Africa
Don’t cry for me Africa
Because I will keep you in my prayers people of Africa
Power to the people of Africa
People of Africa lift your spirit higher
Lord is the light and truth people of Africa
The Lord sends you a message from his heart to you people of Africa
He said because I love you
I will answer your prayers
I hear your prayers
Don’t cry for me Africa
Because you have a friend that is the Lord
People of Africa continue doing the Lords work
Make a wish people of Africa
The people of Africa are looking at the Lord face to face
Lord here is no paradise
We dream a little dream said the people of Africa to the Lord
The People of Africa Pray that the Lord will give each other strength every day
Don’t cry for me Africa
Save the people of Africa
Strengthened the people of Africa each day
Because I’ll be there in your dreams people of Africa
The people of Africa tells The Lord how much they love him
Don’t cry for me Africa
Lord comes when you are ready people of Africa
Feelings you have for your Lord People of Africa
And I know you will never let it die
Nothing but flowers the people of Africa will plant in the sea shore for the Lord
Don’t cry for me Africa
The people of Africa needs hope to heal there land
The Lord rose up on you people of Africa
Don’t cry for me Africa
My heart will go on
Once I close this door of the ship I will sail across the Atlantic Sea
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The three day Rock concert
Pitch your tent in the rain
put money and phone in pockets
hope no thieves around
remember the last time?
Make way to the beer tent
then have a good walk about
your favourite band will be on soon.
Try and get down to the front
but you end up crushed in the middle
by now your covered in mud.
Still you don't care because
you've had a good drink
and the music is loud and great.
Everyone is jumping and moving
to the heavy metal thump thump
your having a fantastic time.
You do this for three days
then you pack up your tent
your worn out and tired
but you'll be back next year.
The great British Rock concert
music, rain, mud, blocked up toilets,
weak beer, hot dogs, drugs,
as British as Fish and Chips!
poem by Kevin Halls
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A Bowl Of Rice
sad, but true...
for so many
people in this world
redemption is
a bowl of rice,
and a tent that doesnt leak...
what do you believe in?
what do you hope for?
do you believe enough
to make an effort?
a bowl of rice,
and a tent that doesnt leak!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Veronica's Napkin
THE Heavenly Circuit; Berenice's Hair;
Tent-pole of Eden; the tent's drapery;
Symbolical glory of thc earth and air!
The Father and His angelic hierarchy
That made the magnitude and glory there
Stood in the circuit of a needle's eye.
Some found a different pole, and where it stood
A pattern on a napkin dipped in blood.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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In Tents
In Waltham, on a Soccer field
A city of pink tents was pitched.
A neighborhood with real thin walls
Some chat, some snore, some mainly itched.
In the distance, thunder rumbled.
Streaks of lightening split the sky
Soon, I knew, the rain would come here.
We must find shelter, you and I.
I am not the outdoors type-
Five star hotels are more my speed,
But out here on the soccer field
Tent building skills are what I need
I 'liberate' a sheet of tarp
To serve as floor for our domain
And with your help I pitched the tent
while laughing in the pouring rain.
Once inside the nylon bubble
(My shoes and clothes quite soaked with rain)
A tiny leak, a Chinese torture
Drop by dropp upon my brain..
Back out again into the Tempest
Back out across the sodden field
I’m seeking out a piece of plastic
to keep out the piss warm rain.
I return to our tent in triumph
A sheet of propylene I found
Is just the thing to keep the rain out
I plop down on the slick wet ground..
The woman in the tent beside us
Like a lusting Walrus snores,
But twenty miles this day behind us
I soon won’t care if Lions roar.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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