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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
Let me tell you the secret hidden
How to get closer to Leila, your beloved.
A Song In The Desert
Friend, thou beholdest the lightning? Who has the charge of it,
To decree which rock-ridge shall receive, shall be chosen for targe of it?
Which crown among palms shall go down, by the thunderbolt broken;
While the floods drown the sere wadis where no bud is token?
"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.
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
Little By Little
“Little by little,” an acorn said,
As it slowly sank in its mossy bed,
“I am improving every day,
Hidden deep in the earth away.”
God might be seeing that ,
My heart does not want to be separated from you,
He might be writing me,
in your fate,
We stood among the boats and nets;
We saw the swift clouds fall,
We watched the schooners scamper in
Before the sudden squall;-
The Old Huntsman
I've never ceased to curse the day I signed
A seven years' bargain for the Golden Fleece.
'Twas a bad deal all round; and dear enough
It cost me, what with my daft management,
The forest ended. Glad I was
To feel the light, and hear the hum
Of bees, and smell the drying grass
And the sweet mint, because I had come
A Life To Feel Pity Upon!
Is it what we mean by life?,
A life with a dramatic attitude,
A life with a hypocratic character,
Always acting as if playing in a stage show,
Venus And Adonis
Even as the sun with purple-coloured face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheeked Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laughed to scorn.
Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night.
A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze,
When I am all alone
Envy me most,
Then my thoughts flutter round me
In a glimmering host;
I Am Defeated
By the hollowness around me
By the emotional rivalries that surround me
By the dreams that are yet to achieve
By the collapsing hopes that are hard to retrieve
I see you, on the zigzag rails,
You cheery little fellow!
While purple leaves are whirling down,
And scarlet, brown, and yellow.
Will people accept them?
(i.e. these songs).
As a timorous wench from a centaur
(or a centurion),
I don't get tired of you. Don't grow weary
of being compassionate toward me!
All this thirst equipment
must surely be tired of me,
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
When first we hear the shy-come nightingales,
They seem to mutter o'er their songs in fear,
And, climb we e'er so soft the spinney rails,
All stops as if no bird was anywhere.
Mortals, that behold a Woman,
Rising 'twixt the Moon and Sun;
Who am I the heavens assume? an
All am I, and I am one.
I know not wherefore, but mine eyes
See bloom, where other eyes see blight.
They find a rainbow, a sunrise,
Where others but discern deep night.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
The Lord Is In Me
The Lord is in me, and the Lord is in you,
As life is hidden in every seed.
So rubble your pride, my friend,
And look for Him within you.
I Am Life For You
With fragile threads tie me up with yourself,
In between strong friendships,there are no distances,
All this anger of yours is false,
O love of mine,listen to my,
The Odyssey: Book 09
And Ulysses answered, “King Alcinous, it is a good thing to hear a
bard with such a divine voice as this man has. There is nothing better
or more delightful than when a whole people make merry together,
with the guests sitting orderly to listen, while the table is loaded
I am alone, in spite of love,
In spite of all I take and give -
In spite of all your tenderness,
Sometimes I am not glad to live.
Fiction And Fact
In books I read, how men have lived and died,
With hopeless love deep in their bosoms hidden.
While she for whom they long in secret sighed,
Went on her way, nor guessed this flame unbidden.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
White founts falling in the courts of the sun,
And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run;
There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared,
It stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard,
G. K. Chesterton
HARK! Young Democracy from sleep
Our careless sentries raps:
A backwash from the Futureâ??s deep
Our Evilâ??s foreland laps.
Back out of all this now too much for us,
Back in a time made simple by the loss
Of detail, burned, dissolved, and broken off
Like graveyard marble sculpture in the weather,
Punishment In Kindergarten
Today the world is a little more my own.
No need to remember the pain
A blue-frocked woman caused, throwing
Words at me like pots and pans, to drain
Little simple violet,
Glittering with dewy wet,
Hidden by protecting grass
All unheeded we should pass
Beauty cast away like a hot flowing river
filled with But and Spot, Dark and light, but still shining like Star's
Dark inside the path's of their way
Shining as gold, but rot inside
Afe Tosin Shola
The Nightingale's Nest
Up this green woodland-ride let's softly rove,
And list the nightingale-she dwells just here.
Hush! let the wood-gate softly clap, for fear
The noise might drive her from her home of love;