To S. F. S.
They say that lonely sorrows do not chance:
More gently, I think, sorrows together go;
A new one joins the funeral gliding slow
With less of jar than when it breaks the dance.
Grief swages grief, and joy doth joy enhance;
Nature is generous to her children so.
And were they quick to spy the flowers that blow,
As quick to feel the sharp-edged stones that lance
The foot that must walk naked in life's way,-
Blest by the roadside lily, free from fear,
Oftener than hurt by dash of flinty spear,
They would walk upright, bold, and earnest-gay;
And when the soft night closed the weary day,
Would sleep like those that far-off music hear.
poem by George MacDonald
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Related quotes
On Another's Sorrow
Can I see another’s woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another’s grief,
And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow’s share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow fill'd?
Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
And can He who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird’s grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear,
And not sit beside the nest,
Pouring pity in their breast;
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant’s tear;
And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
O, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
He doth give His joy to all;
He becomes an infant small;
He becomes a man of woe;
He doth feel the sorrow too.
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not near.
O! He gives to us His joy
That our grief he may destroy;
Till our grief is fled & gone
He doth sit by us and moan.
poem by William Blake from Songs of Innocence (1789)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Small Mourning Pieces
No time to prepare
Shoved over cliff by sorrows
Float down now, gently
Grief comes as strong waves
Tide that never seems to ebb
Let it wash your soul
Nasty Opponent
Grief punches all breath away
Never a fair fight
No time for Heroes
Pain strips away a brave face
Wear no mask for now
Heavy stones of grief
Lighten them with memories
Friendships ease the load
Recipe for grief
Fold laughter into sorrow
Make a grief soufflé
Someone, unseen, cares
Patting shoulder from afar
Dwell in gentle thoughts
Some point you forward
Others put words in your mouth
Follow your own voice
Walking in grief's field
Plant dark flowers in the ground
Teardrops are the rains
Morning light is harsh
Wander away from sadness
Dreams infuse the night
poem by Mary Havran
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Good Friday
O my chief good,
How shall I measure out thy blood?
How shall I count what thee befell,
And each grief tell?
Shall I thy woes
Number according to thy foes?
Or, since one star show'd thy first breath,
Shall all thy death?
Or shall each leaf,
Which falls in Autumn, score a grief?
Or cannot leaves, but fruit be sign
Of the true vine?
Then let each hour
Of my whole life one grief devour:
That thy distress through all may run,
And be my sun.
Or rather let
My several sins their sorrows get;
That as each beast his cure doth know,
Each sin may so.
Since blood is fittest, Lord to write
Thy sorrows in, and bloody fight;
My heart hath store, write there, where in
One box doth lie both ink and sin:
That when sin spies so many foes,
Thy whips, thy nails, thy wounds, thy woes
All come to lodge there, sin may say,
'No room for me', and fly away.
Sin being gone, oh fill the place,
And keep possession with thy grace;
Lest sin take courage and return,
And all the writings blot or burn.
poem by George Herbert
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The Sorrows Of the Seas
Look out at the sea,
You feel it,
But it is not the sea you feel is it,
It is but your soul,
Traped in the sarrows of the seas,
It never is but a sea,
Walk along the beach,
Cry and pray to the waves,
All you can see is but the sarrows of the sea,
Alone I sit,
Alone I cry,
Alone is but the sea,
Alone my soul alone my shadow,
It is the sorrows of the sea,
Cry to your self,
Cry to the sorrows of the sea,
I am alone,
I am alone and only I and Me know,
And the sorrows of the sea,
I am but the sorrows of the sea,
poem by Samantha Guinen
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Morn
In what a strange bewilderment do we
Awake each morn from out the brief night's sleep.
Our struggling consciousness doth grope and creep
Its slow way back, as if it could not free
Itself from bonds unseen. Then Memory,
Like sudden light, outflashes from its deep
The joy or grief which it had last to keep
For us; and by the joy or grief we see
The new day dawneth like the yesterday;
We are unchanged; our life the same we knew
Before. I wonder if this is the way
We wake from death's short sleep, to struggle through
A brief bewilderment, and in dismay
Behold our life unto our old life true.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Italian Girl's Hymn To The Virgin
In the deep hour of dreams,
Through the dark woods, and past the moaning sea,
And by the star-light gleams,
Mother of sorrows! lo, I come to thee!
Unto thy shrine I bear
Night-blowing flowers, like my own heart, to lie
All, all unfolded there,
Beneath the meekness of thy pitying eye.
For thou, that once didst move,
In thy still beauty, through an early home,
Thou knowest the grief, the love,
The fear of woman's soul; - to thee I come!
Many, and sad, and deep,
Were the thoughts folded in thy silent breast;
Thou, too, couldst watch and weep -
Hear, gentlest mother! hear a heart oppressed!
There is a wandering bark
Bearing one from me o'er the restless wave:
Oh! let thy soft eye mark
His course; - be with him, holiest, guide and save!
My soul is on that way;
My thoughts are travellers o'er the waters dim;
Through the long weary day
I walk, o'ershadowed by vain dreams of him.
Aid him - and me, too, aid!
Oh! 'tis not well, this earthly love's excess!
On thy weak child is laid
The burden of too deep a tenderness.
Too much o'er
him
is poured
My being's hope - scarce leaving Heaven a part;
Too faithfully adored,
Oh! make not him the chastener of my heart!
I tremble with a sense
Of grief to be; - I hear a warming low
Sweet mother! call me hence!
This wild idolatry must end in woe.
The troubled joy of life,
Love's lightning happiness, my soul hath known
And, worn with feverish strife,
Would fold its wings; take back, take back thine own.
Hark! how the wind swept by!
The tempest's voice comes rolling o'er the wave -
Hope of the sailor's eye,
And maiden's heart, blest mother, guide and save!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Beyond the grief.
It seems as if we are stalled by our grief,
unable to move away from it – and I wonder
if we will ever get over the loss of you. In time
they say we will, that one day we will finally be free
of the sadness that burdens our hearts, and we will dance
in our remembrance, and there will be no more tears.
But if that's true, I must admit I will miss the tears
when there is an eventual easing of the grief.
I am not as eager to begin the dance
of life without you, for the world has lost its wonder
for me, some of its shine - and being free
seems awfully relative - I suppose just like time.
I can still so clearly recall the last time
we were all together - the tears
we shared, even laughter, when you were set free
of this earthly pain - and even in our grief,
we were filled with such wonder
as we witnessed the end of life's dance.
When I was a little boy you used to let me dance
on the top of your shoes, moving in time
to the music on the radio. Is it any wonder
that music, to this day, brings tears
of joy, mingled with the ever-present grief,
which still has not set me completely free.
I now realize there is a cost to love; it's not free -
for when you love, you buy a ticket to the dance
of life - which comes with joy and pain, celebration and grief.
And if you have lived a long enough time,
as I have, even when the loss brings never ending tears,
with a broken heart, it's worth all of the pain, and it's no wonder
people love so fiercely - so much so that they cease to wonder
about the why, when or where - and now I realize that I am free
to love, and to lose, which will bring with it many tears.
But each tear is worth it - and seems to make the dance
more authentic. In the end, I will measure my time
by how much of it was filled with love, and with grief.
No longer will I wonder whether or not I should dance,
I will just be free, stepping in and out of time,
wearing my tears like a badge of honor as I move beyond the grief.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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To Be Held And Gently Touched
To prove I have the inner strength,
To deal with all my sorrows...
I show I can be,
Obnoxious, rude and indifferent!
To show I am brave,
Inspite of fearful obstacles...
I walk in the pouring rain,
Just to maintain my claimed dignity!
I will not abandoned my journey.
Like many who are quick,
To detach from a mate.
I can not reveal that I hate,
Being alone feeling a dependency.
When I secretly wish to be held,
And gently touched!
To prove I have the inner strength,
To deal with all my sorrows...
I show I can be,
Obnoxious, rude and indifferent!
When I...
Secretly wish,
To be held and gently touched!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Waking
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
poem by Theodore Roethke
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Waking (1953)
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
poem by Theodore Roethke
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Man is subject to innumerable pains and sorrows by the very condition of humanity, and yet, as if nature had not sown evils enough in life, we are continually adding grief to grief and aggravating the common calamity by our cruel treatment of one another.
quote by Joseph Addison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's Been...Too Long, A Wait For Me
If you want romance,
Is there still a chance...
You could slip away,
From your quick and grab it habits...
And be fully medicated.
If you want romance,
Is there still a chance...
You could slip away,
From your quick and grab it habits...
And be fully medicated.
It's been...
Too long,
A wait for me.
I feel I should grab to have it.
It's been...
Too long,
A wait for me.
I feel I should grab to have it.
If you want romance,
Is there still a chance...
You could slip away,
From your quick and grab it habits...
And be fully medicated.
It's been...
Too long a wait for me.
Do I stand a chance?
It's been...
Too long,
A wait from me.
Could there be romance,
To have our hearts continue dancing?
It's been...
Too long,
A wait for me.
And my heart is mended now,
With no sorrows that I borrow.
Or drag in to meet tomorrow.
It's been...
Too long,
A wait for me.
With no sorrows that I borrow.
And a heart that's mended now.
It's been...
Too long,
A wait for me.
With no sorrows that I borrow.
And a heart that's mended now.
It's been...
Too long,
A wait for me.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A grief ago
'There is no grief
which time does not lessen
or soften' -
so said Cicero, a man so often right;
a Stoic, those for whom
all life presents a lesson
to be learned from,
and then, to move on from..
But I wonder about all this:
is grief ever lessened or softened?
Is it not, perhaps, overlaid
in our so various ways?
For some, grief framed and falsified
to ease that grief;
For some, like hyacinths and crocus bulbs,
left in a dark cupboard in the autumn of our grief
to respond to time, and
become at last
themselves?
gently, gently, the covers pulled
over the loving bed,
the true, the pure, the lovely painful grief,
the memory deep cherished,
gently, gently, folded
into the cupboards of the heart
there to be known, without the door disturbed
until the time - 'a grief ago' as Dylan wrote -
the cupboard opened only for love's sake
without grief...:
those carefully folded memories
brought out and loved
and lived a while...
not grief, not grief...but
the pure memory of grief
and behold,
life.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Fear Of Chance
I’m afraid
I fear the chance
To get into your pants
But
I don’t fear the chance
To show off my lance
I guess
What I fear is the dance
A dance
That may turn out to be a romance
So
I won’t show you my lance
Because
I won’t have a chance
To keep up the romance
Cause
I see it in their faces
Hear it in their voices
I hear the disgrace
That you might face
For
Loving the black race
poem by Nagash Ramadan
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Sonnet: Sorrows Purify Our Soul
When sorrows visit in quick succession,
And there’s no time to reason out or cry:
When mind and soul are in eclipsed session,
From the very beginning, then tears dry.
How much of sorrows can a heart withstand?
How much of stress and strain can humans take?
The anguish seems to even flood the land,
When earthly living seems almost a fake.
But, God made man to bear any despair,
And sorrows crown our life but not for long;
Most often life appears very unfair;
But listen Man, for joyful is His song.
Yet, sorrows purify my soul, O God!
It makes me fit for Heaven’s Abode, Lord.
6-25-2001
poem by John Celes
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I Will Walk With You
Cover your heart, put on your mask
Dance with me slowly, is all that I ask
What is the hardest, falling or not
Knowing just where to begin or start
I will walk, I will walk, with you
I will walk with you
Lay down beside me, tell me your dreams
The view from inside is not what it seems
But no one will hurt you, not like before
Your last thread of forgiveness wont reach the door, noooo
I will walk, I will walk, with you
I will walk with you
I will walk, I will walk, with you
I will walk with you
I will walk, I walk with you
Pull up the curtains
Watch the night fall
Who has the answers when nobody calls
Now rely on fury, blame the sun rise last
Cause I was in love with you, but I cant change the past
I will walk, I will walk with you
I will walk with you (with you)
I will walk, I will walk with you
I will walk with you
song performed by by Sheryl Crow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Free As A Bird
When a spirit is broken
Why go on
When there's nothing to say
And a love just a token
It was strong
Now it's fading away
Ah but I'm free as a bird
As I walk right out that door
You have my word
I won't bother you no more
Yes I'm doing alright
As I face the lonely night
And our love it was over
Long ago
But we just didn't say
And the years they have fallen
One by one
How they drifted away
But now I'm free as a bird
As I walk out that door
You have my word
I won't bother you no more
Yes I'm feeling OK
As I face the brand new day
As I face the brand new day
You know I'm free as a bird
As I walk right out that door
You have my word
I won't bother you no more
Yes I'm doing alright
As I face the lonely night
As I face the lonely night
No more sorrows will I find
I've got tomorrow on my side
No more teardrops will I cry
Left my teardrops way behind
No more sorrows will I find
I've got tomorrow on my side
No more teardrops will I cry
Left my teardrops way behind
No more heartaches bother me
Don't wear my heartaches on my sleeve
It's gonna be a brand new story
What's the use of former glory
It's better not to do if you can't do right
It's time to get to celebrating
After all the years of waiting
I'm gonna have a ball if it takes all night
song performed by by Supertramp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Witch Hunt Part Iii Of fear
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
The night is black
Without a moon
The air is thick, and still
The vigilantes gather on
The lonely torchlit hill
Features distorted in the flickering light
The faces are twisted and grotesque
Silent and stern in the sweltering night
The mob moves like demons possessed
Quiet in conscience, calm in their right ---
Confident their ways are best
The righteous rise
With burning eyes
Of hatred and ill-will
Madmen fed on fear and lies
To beat, and burn, and kill
They say there are strangers, who threaten us
In our immigrants and infidels
They say there is strangeness, too dangerous
In our theatres and bookstore shelves
That those who know whats best for us ---
Must rise and save us from ourselves
Quick to judge
Quick to anger
Slow to understand
Ignorance and prejudice
And fear
Walk hand in hand
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Was Acquainted With Grief
I cannot tell the sorrows that I feel
By the night's darkness, by the prison's gloom;
There is no sight that can the death reveal
The spirit suffers in a living tomb;
There is no sound of grief that mourners raise,
No moaning of the wind, or dirge-like sea,
Nor hymns, though prophet tones inspire the lays,
That can the spirit's grief awake in thee.
Thou too must suffer as it suffers here
The death in Christ to know the Father's love;
Then in the strains that angels love to hear
Thou too shalt hear the Spirit's song above,
And learn in grief what these can never tell,
A note too deep for earthly voice to swell.
poem by Jones Very
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The Snail and the Quail
The quick, quivering quail laughed at the slow moving snail
And said, “Don’t ever enter a race or you’ll be last on the trail.”
Well, that snail always saw himself as moving kind of slow,
Though he was sure he knew where a straight line would go.
He thought, “Quail is faster, running back and forth, then forth and back.
If he does that in a race, quick quivering quail might just run off track.”
So the slow moving snail smiled and challenged quick, quivering quail
To a race for the candy store on the other side of hill and dale.
Quick, quivering quail laughed so hard he could hardly talk.
He joked, “Slow snail, you have no chance if you run and I only walk.”
Slow moving snail responded, “Tomorrow you’ll have a chance to shine.
Race time is noon and where ants cross the road is the starting line.”
Quick, quivering quail, still laughing, said “I’ll give you a big head start.”
Slow moving snail answered, “No thanks. Just race fast. I’ll race smart.”
Off went quick, quivering quail with buddies to have fun and stay up late.
Slow moving snail worked on a plan to move faster and go straight.
The day passed quickly for snail and quail as each went his separate way.
Night was short and soon a bright new sun hailed the start of race day.
Quick, quivering quail was tired after staying out late with his best friend.
Slow moving snail slept well and had his plan for how the race would end.
Snails and quails crowded ‘round as queen ant started to whine,
“Loosen up your shell and feathers; then step to the starting line.
On your mark, get ready, get set, now off you two go.”
Quick quivering quail rushed down the track… sir snail started slow.
It wasn’t long before quick quail had quivered across two dales, and then
Thought he’d just catch 40 winks before trying that much track again.
He thought, “I could walk in my sleep and still win this race.
That slow moving snail, carrying his shell along. What a big disgrace! ”
So off he went into Dreamland, seeing candy stores over the next dale.
Or was it two more hills that were the end of this easy trail?
Meanwhile slow moving snail studied his map as he moved along.
He smiled at flowers and friends on the hill; then broke into song,
“I’ve worked hard for this race and thank each and every fan.
I’m confident that I’ll win, but if not, I can always try again.
With your cheers and my hard work, “slow” won’t mean “lose”.
Victory depends not on just our skills, but how much of them we use.”
As slow snail topped the hill, it rained, but not on a single snail fan.
They had umbrellas, since slow snail had checked with the weatherman.
His name now was “quick snail” as he slid down the hills of water and mud.
Rain woke quick quivering quail as a big dropp hit his head with a thud.
Quail ran faster as he thought he saw the finish line with each advance…
But shrieked, “Oh no, I can’t believe it. This line is made up of ants! ”
Snail’s slide downhill helped him move over the dale as never before.
Soon there it was within sight and smell…that winning candy store.
Then snail’s moves were much slower and he could hear a noise behind.
Sure, it was quick quail, so snail reached for all the strength he could find.
Before he knew it, slow moving snail was in front of the candy store.
So proud, he yelled, “I Love You All! ” as he listened to the crowd roar.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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