Childhood Alone Is Glad
Childhood alone is glad. With it time flees
In constant mimes and bright festivities.
It, like the ever-restless butterfly,
Or seeks or settles on some flower of joy.
Youth chases pleasure, but oft starteth pain;
And love, youth's birthright, oft is love in vain;
While manhood follows wealth, or woos ambition,
That are but courted cares; and, with transition
Insensible, he enters upon age;
Thence gilding like a spectre from life's stage,
E'en through the door of dotage. So he passes
To second childhood; but, as quickening gases,
Being fled, leave zestless a once cheering draught,
We grow not merry though the dotard laughed.
poem by Charles Heavysege
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
2.03 Childhood - Youth - Old Age
The three around the fire sitting,
Gossiping of Life and its doings,
Reached a point thought provoking,
Of their journey and life prevailing. [1]
CHILDHOOD:
“Please do not leave me at this time,
Youth, do take me in your prime,
For I an entertainment will but be,
With playful antics in life’s journey.” [2]
YOUTH:
“No! You can not accompany me,
As struggles exist in my journey,
Your playfulantics will but not be,
In my stride of any necessity.” [3]
When on Youth tiredness grows,
Childhood memories do then glow,
But Old Age with its aged face,
Now stares at Youth in this race. [4]
OLDAGE
“Of no use it be to remember him,
You move ahead now in this game,
Childhood once gone never returns,
Forget Childhood - Love me in turn. [5]
Struggling ahead as you had moved,
Your tiredness now I shall remove,
Come on my lap relaxingly do lie,
And sleep with my pleasant lullabies.” [6]
Thinking of Childhood - its payful taps,
The Youth now lies in Oldage’s lap,
Who caressing with weak trembling hands,
Sings cradle songs of eternal sleep grand. [7]
poem by Munnan Misra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Song Of Success
Ho! we were strong, we were swift, we were brave.
Youth was a challenge, and Life was a fight.
All that was best in us gladly we gave,
Sprang from the rally, and leapt for the height.
Smiling is Love in a foam of Spring flowers:
Harden our hearts to him -- on let us press!
Oh, what a triumph and pride shall be ours!
See where it beacons, the star of success!
Cares seem to crowd on us -- so much to do;
New fields to conquer, and time's on the wing.
Grey hairs are showing, a wrinkle or two;
Somehow our footstep is losing its spring.
Pleasure's forsaken us, Love ceased to smile;
Youth has been funeralled; Age travels fast.
Sometimes we wonder: is it worth while?
There! we have gained to the summit at last.
Aye, we have triumphed! Now must we haste,
Revel in victory . . . why! what is wrong?
Life's choicest vintage is flat to the taste --
Are we too late? Have we laboured too long?
Wealth, power, fame we hold . . . ah! but the truth:
Would we not give this vain glory of ours
For one mad, glad year of glorious youth,
Life in the Springtide, and Love in the flowers.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Where is Bliss?
Be a child when you pass through the childhood,
A youth when you pass through the youth period
And wise in manhood with ability
To recall the child and the youth; it’s bliss..
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet IV. Out, palsied soul, that dost but tremble ever
Out, palsied soul, that dost but tremble ever
In sight of the bright sunshine;--mine be joy,
And the full heart, and eye that faileth never
In the glad morning:--I am yet a boy;--
I have not wandered from the crystal river
That flowed by me in childhood: my employ
Hath been to take the gift and praise the Giver;
To love the flowers thy heedless steps destroy.
I wonder if the bliss that flows to me
In youth, shall be exhaled and scorched up dry
By the noonday glare of life; I must not lie
For ever in the shade of childhood's tree;
But I must venture forth and make advance
Along the toilèd path of human circumstance.
poem by Henry Alford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Abused Child
Childhood itself
Big wound!
Wound covers
Slap of a father,
Bite of a sibling,
Curse of a mother,
and finally treacherous teacher!
My childhood crawled
under serpent-hood!
No joyful moments
Only scars registered in the soul!
Childhood swayed by youth,
Enthusiastic path to new strength,
Childhood mistakes haunted the youth,
Irritable emotion creates wrath!
As there is no ray of hope,
Youth led to astray
Trapped in easy money!
Fighting with peers for livelihood,
Waiting for love at neighbourhood,
Dreaming to become rich,
Struggling inch by inch,
facing crunch after crunch,
Dreams shattered and happiness slashed
Stood on the fate’s pedestal!
Unknown mistake
finally pushed me to jail!
Justice delayed,
Life is under trial
Wounds mounting
Time never heals all injuries
Time intensifies wounds
Wound ….. Wound..
Wound comes round and round
Life has no re- wind!
Life sinks in dark abyss
poem by Mula Veereswara Rao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Childhood is calling
Come on people move
For childhood is calling
time to get up and groove
there is no time for stalling
Enjoy the warm sunny day
and chase all of your blues away
this is a day that is so enthralling
listen, as your childhood is calling
old men sit and are soon recalling
and slowly as their hair is graying
they hear the siren song of youth playing
saying that their childhood is calling
the time is slipping away so quickly,
so run fast and catch the dying sun
for childhood is calling
and your life has just begun
JPM 1/4/2008 - 1/11/2008
A poet dream...where do I begin
I love to kiss the avenue of my youth, I
love to touch those beautiful flower that
floats in the pond, I do love to hug my
childhood memories, though I know
Aim old as new born baby in the
mother's womb
I love to walk in the rainbow islets, I love
to hold those alluring clouds touching my
face; in a day of my sweet memories and
as I'll take laid my rest, my love tells me
the same, the heyday wants me to
stay, in a moment of a day
I love to know more than you do, I love to
conquer of what is yesterday, though the
time is not yet for me to go, to you my pen
I leave the very precious life I bring, take
me with you, in the happy day tell today
and yesterday
as my only friend I know in the bedside
you always be true, leaving with me no pain,
touching my sorrow and gain, until I close
my eyes where in the corner you ink, the
life of you and me has drink
now, where do I begin to think........
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: XXVII
At such a time indeed of youth's first morn,
There is a heaving of the soul in pain,
A mighty labour as of joys unborn,
Which grieves it and disquiets it in vain.
The soul is scared at her own lack of peace,
Her cradle song is mute, and she has fled
From her old life as to a wilderness.
She finds herself awake and without bread.
'Tis then the body, her new counsellor,
Speaks in her ear, and still with eloquence
Pleads for more action, and his voice to her
Is sweet with love, and sadly she consents.
There is a day of youth which needs must come
When each must learn his life and leave his home.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In a Herber Green Asleep Whereas I Lay
In a herber green asleep whereas I lay,
The birds sang sweet in the middle of the day;
I dreamed fast of mirth and play:
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
Methought I walked still to and fro,
And from her company I could not go;
But when I wak'd it was not so:
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
Therefore my heart is surely pight
Of her alone to have a sight,
Which is my joy and heart's delight:
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
poem by Robert Wever
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Shadow Lady
My shadow lady with melodious dreams of childhood ask to my youth age, how are you?
'I'm not well so you can't well
you should not well
when I will well than you should well'
At childhood I was very restive kiddy
my dream was batter fly of different colours flew
with dance around you was bud of flower
You was my first lovely heat
ice was dropping to transform waterfall
My shadow lady with sweet childhood dreams please hear
I'm not well but well
because I'm alone yet and forever will reach...
poem by Mashiur Rahman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
His Youth
Dying? I am not dying. Are you mad?
You think I need to ask for heavenly grace?
\I\ think \you\ are a fiend, who would be glad
To see me struggle in death's cold embrace.
'But, man you lie! for I am strong-in truth
Stronger than I have been in years; and soon
I shall feel young again as in my youth,
My glorious youth-life's one great priceless boon.
'O youth, youth, youth! O God, that golden time,
When proud and glad I laughed the hours away.
Why, there's no sacrifice (perhaps no crime)
I'd pause at, could it make me young to-day.
'But I'm not \old\! I grew-just ill, somehow;
Grew stiff of limb, and weak, and dim of sight.
It was but sickness. I am better now,
Oh, vastly better, ever since last night.
'And I could weep warm floods of happy tears
To think my strength is coming back at last,
For I have dreamed of such an hour for years,
As I lay thinking of my glorious past.
'You shake your head? Why, man, if you were sane
I'd strike you to my feet, I would, in truth.
How dare you tell me that my hopes are vain?
How dare you say I have outlived my youth?
''In heaven I may regain it?' Oh, be still!
I want no heaven but what my glad youth gave.
Its long, bright hours, its rapture and its thrill-
O youth, youth, youth! it is my \youth\ I crave.
'There is no heaven! There's nothing but a deep
And yawning grave from which I shrink in fear.
I am not sure of even rest or sleep;
Perhaps we lie and \think\, as I have here.
'Think, think, think, think, as we lie there and rot,
And hear the young above us laugh in glee.
How dare you say I'm dying! \I am not\.
I would curse God if such a thing could be.
'Why, see me stand! why, hear this strong, full breath-
Dare you repeat that silly, base untruth?'
A cry-a fall-the silence known as death
Hushed his wild words. Well, has he found his youth?
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Childhood: the period of human life intermediate between the idiocy of infancy and the folly of youth - two removes from the sin of manhood and three from the remorse of age.
quote by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Love Of A Flower
Love is peace without thoughts
Is a colorful flower
Is a blue light
Is a view all in youth..... Love is a hidden star
Is a moon yet to be discovered
Is a honeymoon onto his deep skin
Is the hunger of man to loved eternally The love of a flower.....
Is a rest upon your man's chest
Is a first love of a Springtime dream
Is a gift from the above onto his arms The love of a flower.....
Is to witness the birth of your son
Is to awake for the first time
Is to swim for love once again with him The love of a flower.....
Is to really learn to love and see life for what it is
Is to be able to write a poem to the sky and smile
Is to look at your love and state "indeed you're all my youth"
poem by Minerva A. Garcia
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cherish The Child
Cherish the child within your care
While childhood yet remains,
Anoint your love with precious prayer
Regardless of life's pains...
For sorrow comes to one and all,
No matter who you are,
Yet we must rise each time we fall,
No matter, near or far...
Cherish the child within your reach
While childhood yet exists,
For close-at-hand there's time to teach,
If patience still persists...
Rewards await the heart that shows
A constant love each day,
A love that gently glows and glows,
No matter, come what may...
Cherish the child within your life
While childhood runs its course,
Against this world so full of strife,
Its follies to enforce...
Protect each fragile fragrant flower
So that the child may bloom...
With love the everlasting power
That brightens up each room...
Cherish the child, that little one,
That sacred soul God gave
From when its life has just begun
Until your final wave...
God's promises can be believed,
Your hopes and dreams are known...
Our Father blesses prayers received
From those He calls His own...
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Time’s Changes In A Household
They were as fair and bright a band as ever filled with pride
Parental hearts whose task it was children beloved to guide;
And every care that love upon its idols bright may shower
Was lavished with impartial hand upon each fair young flower.
Theirs was the father’s merry hour sharing their childish bliss,
The mother’s soft breathed benison and tender, nightly kiss;
While strangers who by chance might see their joyous graceful play,
To breathe some word of fondness kind would pause upon their way.
But years rolled on, and in their course Time many changes brought,
And sorrow in that household gay his silent power wrought!
The sons had grown to gallant men of lofty heart and brow,
The fairy like and joyous girls were thoughtful women now.
The hour of changes had arrived, and slowly, one by one,
The playmates left the parent’s roof, their own career to run;
The eldest born, the mother’s choice, whose soft and holy smile
In childhood’s days had told of heart as angel’s free from guile.
Formed in resolve, and scorning all earth’s pleasures and its fame,
Had offered up his life to God, a teacher of His name:
His spirit sighed not long on earth, he found a quiet grave
’Mid forests wild whose shades he’d sought the Red man’s soul to save.
Far diff’rent was the stirring choice of his youthful brother gay,
His was the glitt’ring sword and flag, the drum, the war steed’s neigh;
And the proud spirit that had marked his childhood’s earliest hour
Distinguished still the warrior brave in manhood’s lofty power.
Alas for him, and visions vain of fame that lured him on,
An early grave in a distant land was the only goal he won!
His gaze bedimmed that yearned for home rested on alien skies,
And alien watchers wiped death’s damps, and closed his dying eyes.
A third with buoyant heart, had sought far India’s burning soil,
Thinking to win wealth’s treasures by a few years’ eager toil,
But ere those years had sped their course, from earth’s cares he was free,—
He sleeps beneath the shadow of the date and mango tree.
But the sisters who had brightened once the home now desolate—
Lived they to mourn each brother’s loss? was theirs a happier fate?
In childhood’s sports and youth’s high dreams they’d borne a happy part,
But severed they were doomed ere long in death to sleep apart.
The tall and dark-eyed girl whose laugh, so full of silvery glee,
Had ever told of spirit light, from care and shadow free,
Had early left her happy home, the bright and envied bride
Of a husband whose ancestral name betokened wealth and pride.
Alas for her who in youth’s hour had basked in love’s sunshine,
That husband stern deserted her in cold neglect to pine;
The merry smile soon fled her lip, the sparkling light her eye,
In vain she sought a southern clime, she only went to die.
And now of all the lovely band who’d joined in mirth of old,
There is, alas! but one sweet flower whose tale remains untold:
She was the joy, the pride of all, that gentle girl, and fair,—
With deep and dreamy azure eyes and shining golden hair.
E’en her bold brothers, in their youth, were gentle when she played,
From reckless sports, from daring games their eager hands they stayed;
And when amid their thoughtless mirth harsh feelings might awake,
They ever yielded to her prayers, and rested for her sake.
Oh! hers was far the brightest lot in life’s eventful race!
She passed from earth ere care had left upon her brow one trace—
She passed from earth with loving ones grouped round her dying bed,
And on a mother’s tender breast rested her throbbing head.
’Twas thus that each beloved one of that bright joyous band,
Save her, had found a lonely grave in a far distant land;
Yet murmurs ’gainst high heaven’s decrees as impious were as vain—
For in far happier regions will that household meet again!
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ghosts of Dreams
We are all of us dreamers of dreams,
On visions our childhood is fed;
And the heart of a child is unhaunted, it seems,
By ghosts of dreams that are dead.
From childhood to youth's but a span,
And the years of our life are soon sped;
But the youth is no longer a youth, but a man,
When the first of his dreams is dead.
'Tis a cup of wormwood and gall,
When the doom of a great man is said;
And the best of a man is under a pall
When the best of his dreams is dead.
He may live on by compact and plan
When the fine bloom of living is shed,
But God pity the little that's left of a man
When most of his dreams are dead.
Let him show a brave face if he can;
Let him woo fame and fortune instead;
Yet there's not much to do, but to bury a man
When the last of his dreams is dead.
poem by William Herbert Carruth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In Youth is Pleasure
IN a harbour grene aslepe whereas I lay,
The byrdes sang swete in the middes of the day,
I dreamed fast of mirth and play:
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
Methought I walked still to and fro,
And from her company I could not go--
But when I waked it was not so:
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
Therefore my hart is surely pyght
Of her alone to have a sight
Which is my joy and hartes delight:
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
poem by Robert Wever
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Growing Up......
At what point is the optimism of youth
Replaced by the absolute truth?
No longer relish a brand new day
Pessimism douses the glee ofay!
Christmas Glistens
To pounds and pence
Over listens
To take offence
Overindulgence
With hurt pride
Lessons learnt
With no safe side
Love made during Vodka and coke
Say I love you
Pitiful joke
Bury the hatchet
With the treasure
Unable to return to childhood pleasure
Each bird song
And sun filled day
I miss the exhuberance
Of a childhood day
poem by Karen Sinclair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Youth is blind
Youth is power; youth is vigour;
Youth is initiative; youth is revolutionary;
Youth is dedication; youth is freedom;
Youth is love; youth is passion.
Yes, because youth is blind
Out of them elders make winds
01.01.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Age considers, youth ventures
Age considers, youth ventures
Age visualizes, youth dreams
Age makes theories, youth experiments
Age loves, youth longs
Age sees people, youth sees places
Age knows belongings, youth discovers them
Age pains to gain, youth gains to others' pain
Age has heart, youth has mind
Age is thoughtful, youth is tactful
Age ponders, youth wonders
Age recounts, youth counts
Age is experienced, youth is in experience
Age is cautious, youth dashes
Age floats, youth swims
Age lives, youth still making a living
Age is in touch with termination, youth with determination
Age is confident, youth is competent
Age adds years to living, youth adds life to living
Age is lost in past, youth is drowned in future
Age is grown, youth is crown
Ageless is youth, youthless is age
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!