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Beware Of Dogs
No Fela and son could tell of
this present roaring Government.
We would soon forget this forgery pain
upon the odours the land created.
John Chizoba Vincent
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.
The Two Cousins
Valour and Innocence
Have latterly gone hence
To certain death by certain shame attended.
Envy, ah! even to tears!,
Give me your hand, oh little one!
Like children be we two;
Yet I am old, my day is done
That barely breaks for you.
Love And Harmony
Love and harmony combine,
And round our souls entwine
While thy branches mix with mine,
And our roots together join.
Oui, La Femme, Semblable...
Oui, la femme, semblable au doux Emmanuel,
Vers nous, des mains de Dieu, s'épancha, blanche et pure ;
Mais l'homme, être tombé, posa sa lèvre impure
Sur ce front embaumé d'un parfum immortel.
Charles Marie Rene Leconte De Lisle
That Little Girl
The innnocence of a little child
Her wide eyed smile
Her completely trusting spirit
Her unknowing stare
(In Memory of a Commission)
Help for a patriot distressed, a spotless spirit hurt,
Help for an honourable clan sore trampled in the dirt!
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
Hymn To Lucifer
Ware, nor of good nor ill, what aim hath act?
Without its climax, death, what savour hath
Life? an impeccable machine, exact
He paces an inane and pointless path
The Great Hunger
Clay is the word and clay is the flesh
Where the potato-gatherers like mechanised scarecrows move
Along the side-fall of the hill - Maguire and his men.
The height of wisdom seems to me
That of a child;
So let my ageing vision be
Serene and mild.
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.
Endymion: Book Iv
Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse!
O first-born on the mountains! by the hues
Of heaven on the spiritual air begot:
Long didst thou sit alone in northern grot,
The Spirit Of The Unborn Babe
The Spirit of the Unborn Babe peered through the window-pane,
Peered through the window-pane that glowed like beacon in the night;
For, oh, the sky was desolate and wild with wind and rain;
And how the little room was crammed with coziness and light!
Enlaced with gardened jewelry
My basking villas nest
Where sifted sunshine soothes the eye
And cosy hillocks rest.
The Suicide's Argument
Ere the birth of my life, if I wished it or no
No question was asked me--it could not be so !
If the life was the question, a thing sent to try
And to live on be YES; what can NO be ? to die.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Aug. 14. 1653.
Upon The Words Of Chush The Benjamite Against Him.
Lord my God to thee I flie
Sometimes Even Now
Sometimes even now I may
Steal a prisoner's holiday,
Slip, when all is worst, the bands,
Hurry back, and duck beneath
Addict of Punch and Judy shows
I was when I was small;
My kiddy laughter, I suppose,
Rang louder than them all.
The Shape alone let others prize,
The Features of the Fair;
I look for Spirit in her Eyes,
And Meaning in her Air.
IF I might build a palace, fair
With every joy of soul and sense,
And set my heart as sentry there
To guard your happy innocence--
Thou, Margaret, lov'st the secret shade,
The murmuring brook, or tow'ring tree;
The village cot within the glade,
And lonely walk have charms for thee.
The lovely young Lavinia once had friends;
And fortune smiled deceitful on her birth:
For, in her helpless years deprived of all,
Of every stay, save innocence and Heaven,
Televised news turns
a half-used day into
a waste of desolation.
If nothing wondrous preceded
The sun went down, and the dark after it
Starred Merlin's new abode with many a sconced
And many a moving candle, in whose light
The prisoned wizard, mirrored in amazement,
Edwin Arlington Robinson
To my friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson.
He who could beard the lion in his lair,
The Biologic Urge
Confound all aberrations which
Make men do foolish things,
Like buying bracelets for a bitch,
Or witless wedding rings.
The sun rode high in a cloudless sky
Of a perfect summer morn.
She stood and gazed out into the street,
And wondered why she was born.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
History has to live with what was here,
clutching and close to fumbling all we had--
it is so dull and gruesome how we die,
unlike writing, life never finishes.
Along the avenue I pass
Huge piles of wood and stone,
And glance at each amorphous mass,
Whose cumbrous weight has crushed the grass,
After the death of our son
Neither the sorrows of afternoon, waiting in the silent house,
Nor the night no sleep relieves, when memory
Sketches In The Exhibition
What various objects strike with various force,
Achilles, Hebe, and Sir Watkin's horse!
Here summer scenes, there Pentland's stormy ridge,
Lords, ladies, Noah's ark, and Cranford bridge!
William Lisle Bowles