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The Super Hostess
It was as a little child
And one who was very shy
That I first looked at the sky.
Soon enough I started wondering and asking myself
C K Rawat
Some things sometimes feel like a black hole
A dream that cannot be shaken off
Yet we depend on it to survive
Love is a feeling that connects hearts
Sleep, let me sleep, for I am sick of care;
Sleep, let me sleep, for my pain wearies me.
Shut out the light; thicken the heavy air
With drowsy incense; let a distant stream
If the sun sets for me at dawn
So that the white in me turns black
Before I shed off a single milk teeth
If I vacate that soothsome seat
As I went walking up and down to take the evening air,
(Sweet to meet upon the street, why must I be so shy?)
I saw him lay his hand upon her torn black hair;
(”Little dirty Latin child, let the lady by!”)
Edna St. Vincent Millay
These wet rocks where the tide has been,
Barnacled white and weeded brown
And slimed beneath to a beautiful green,
These wet rocks where the tide went down
Edna St. Vincent Millay
No love is comparable to mother's love
Inspiration when life becomes tough
Mother's love is unconditional and eternal
Sacrificial lamb for the child
A Servant To Servants
I didn't make you know how glad I was
To have you come and camp here on our land.
I promised myself to get down some day
And see the way you lived, but I don't know!
Wouldst thou be taught, when sleep has taken flight,
By a sure voice that can most sweetly tell,
How far off yet a glimpse of morning light,
And if to lure the truant back be well,
I still remember the day I saw you
What you wore how you looked
And I did some stupid things I can't lie
Maybe because I was still but a child
Why We Fight
This is the thing we fight:
A cry of terror in the night;
A ship on work of mercy bentâ??
A carrier of the sick and maimedâ??
Edgar Albert Guest
What Is Love
A good night kiss to your child
A tight hug between siblings,
Tears of joy ,
A look of longing for someone
Now when the primrose makes a splendid show,
And lilies face the March-winds in full blow,
And humbler growths as moved with one desire
Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire,
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Pray For Me
She rushed into a house
darkghost where haltup
evildims where hiddown
Her room was tumultly dreadful
Saviour A Willie
An Eastern Ballad
I speak of love that comes to mind:
The moon is faithful, although blind;
She moves in thought she cannot speak.
Perfect care has made her bleak.
The Norman Boy
High on a broad unfertile tract of forest-skirted Down,
Nor kept by Nature for herself, nor made by man his own,
From home and company remote and every playful joy,
Served, tending a few sheep and goats, a ragged Norman Boy.
Again want to enjoy all these views
B/c now realized how precious chilhood is.
Again want to be child
With usura hath no man a house of good stone
each block cut smooth and well fitting
Of late I have begun to feel a hunger
To take in with greed, like a forest fire that
Consumes and with each killing gains a wilder,
Brighter charm, all that comes my way. Bald child in
The kindest hearts pray for change
God didn't answer when it was Grey
The child inside me cried for so long
The world was actually not against me
"Oh, show me how a rose can shut and be a bud again!"
Nay, watch my Lords of the Admiralty, for they have the work in train.
They have taken the men that were careless lads at Dartmouth in 'Fourteen
And entered them at the landward schools as though no war had been.
'No animal is half as vile
As Crocky-Wock, the crocodile.
On Saturdays he likes to crunch
Six juicy children for his lunch
Among the dwellers in the silent fields
The natural heart is touched, and public way
And crowded street resound with ballad strains,
Inspired by one whose very name bespeaks
Michael: A Pastoral Poem
If from the public way you turn your steps
Up the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll,
You will suppose that with an upright path
Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent
THAT HE SANG AT THE COUNCIL ROCK WHEN HE DANCED ON SHERE KHAN'S HIDE
The Song of Mowgli-I, Mowgli, am singing. Let
the jungle listen to the things I have done.
My dear daddy,
You gave me intensive care for being weak ,
And made me what I am today,
Believing that I can be by your side,
I know you are too dear to stay;
You are so exquisitely sweet:
My lonely house will thrill some day
To echoes of your eager feet.
Childhood is a gift
With full of surprises
It is a energy of life
No, rules of life
Auguries Of Innocence
To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.
Ah, had you seen the Coolun,
Walking down by the cuckoo's street,
With the dew of the meadow shining
On her milk-white twinkling feet.
Sir Samuel Ferguson
For failure I was well equipped
And should have come to grief,
By atavism grimly gripped,
A fool beyond belief.
A Bronze Head
Here at right of the entrance this bronze head,
Human, superhuman, a bird's round eye,
Everything else withered and mummy-dead.
What great tomb-haunter sweeps the distant sky
William Butler Yeats