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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
A Little Prayer
Let us be thankful, Lord, for little things-
The song of birds, the rapture of the rose;
Cloud-dappled skies, the laugh of limpid springs,
Drowned sunbeams and the perfume April blows;
"Hign bliss is only for a higher state,"
But, surely, if severe afflictions borne
With patience merit the reward of peace,
Peace ye deserve; and may the solid good,
"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.
People Like Candles
*PEOPLE LIKE CANDLES*
*"The world would have been a better domicile to dwell in, if our impediments are equally solved. But nay, some are like candles"* *paciolo pen saint*
Paciolo Pen Saint
Gettin' together to smile an' rejoice,
An' eatin' an' laughin' with folks of your choice;
An' kissin' the girls an' declarin' that they
Are growin more beautiful day after day;
Edgar Albert Guest
Addressed to Francis Greenleaf Allison of Burlington, New Jersey.
You scarcely need my tardy thanks,
Who, self-rewarded, nurse and tend--
John Greenleaf Whittier
Product Of Inspiration
I have sought for inspiration.
I have pursued motivation
But I've come to realize that the best motivators of ourselves are within us, but my experience in life has made me who I am today.
I have come to appreciate that sometimes we don't get to choose what we want in life but we become products of circumstances.
Where ever something breathes
Heart beating the rise and fall
Of mountains, the waves upon the sky
Of seas, the terror is our ignorance, that's
Of all the meals that glad my day
My morning one's the best;
Purveyed me on a silver tray,
A Child's Prayer
For Morn, my dome of blue,
For Meadows, green and gay,
And Birds who love the twilight of the leaves,
Let Jesus keep me joyful when I pray.
THE SUN had clos'd the winter day,
The curless quat their roarin play,
And hunger'd maukin taen her way,
To kail-yards green,
The Iliad Of Homer: Translated Into English Blank Verse: Book I.
Argument Of The First Book.
The book opens with an account of a pestilence that prevailed in the Grecian camp, and the cause of it is assigned. A council is called, in which fierce altercation takes place between Agamemnon and Achilles. The latter solemnly renounces the field. Agamemnon, by his heralds, demands Brisë is, and Achilles resigns her. He makes his complaint to Thetis, who undertakes to plead his cause with Jupiter. She pleads it, and prevails. The book concludes with an account of what passed in Heaven on that occasion.
The Autumn hills are golden at the top,
And rounded as a poet's silver rhyme;
The mellow days are ruby ripe, that drop
One after one into the lap of time.
Kate Seymour Maclean
FAIR OTAHEITE , fondly blest
By him who long was doom'd to brave
The fury of the Polar wave,
That fiercely mounts the frozen rock
Helen Maria Williams
The Grateful Snake.
Ingratitude! of earth the shame!
Thou monster, at whose hated name,
The nerves of kindness ake;
Would I could drive thee from mankind,
It was a week from Christmas-time,
As near as I remember,
And half a year since, in the rear,
We'd left the Darling timber.
A Grace After Dinner
O THOU, in whom we live and moveâ??
Who made the sea and shore;
Thy goodness constantly we prove,
And grateful would adore;
A MOMENT since, he stood unmoved--alone;
Courage and thought on his resolvēd brow;
But hope is quivering in the broken tone,
Whose bitter anguish seems to shake him now:
Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
To my friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson.
He who could beard the lion in his lair,
THOUGH many suns have risen and set
Since thou, blithe May, wert born,
And Bards, who hailed thee, may forget
Thy gift, thy beauty scorn;
MY OWN WILD BURNS! these rude-wrought rhymes of thine
In golden worth are like the unshapely coin
Of some new realm, yet pure as from the mineâ??
And Art may well be spared with such alloy
The very skies wee black with shame,
As near my moment drew;
The very hour before you cam
I felt I hated you.
The Iliad: Book 24
The assembly now broke up and the people went their ways each to his
own ship. There they made ready their supper, and then bethought
them of the blessed boon of sleep; but Achilles still wept for
thinking of his dear comrade, and sleep, before whom all things bow,
Blessings On Children
Blessings on the blessing children, sweetest gifts of Heaven to earth,
Filling all the heart with gladness, filling all the house with mirth;
Bringing with them native sweetness, pictures of the primal bloom,
Which the bliss for ever gladdens, of the region whence they come;
William Gilmore Simms
The Fan : A Poem. Book I.
I sing that graceful toy, whose waving play,
With gentle gales relieves the sultry day.
Not the wide fan by Persian dames display'd,
Which o'er their beauty casts a grateful shade;
I want the new canvas of the day to look really good
and thus I start in the morning with a grateful mood:
with strokes of colour, soft and sweet pastel
I want to make a superb and pleasing aquarelle
Keisy Rams The Poet