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Way To Go
She was born in the hills
dotted with villages quiet and small.
Her village was breathtakingly beautiful
With a scenic landscape,
C K Rawat
Do memories last forever?
This thought runs through the mind of thinkers.
Memories are destined to fade,
But your most important memories,
Where Do I Go
We are seated together
Thinking on our togetherness
Laughing out the past
Where will I go
We stood among the boats and nets . . .
We marked the risen moon
Walk swaying o'er the trembling seas
As one sways in a swoon;
Sitting alone that night
Trying hide her fright
Pulling her sleeves
thinking if the demons ever leave
You slept lonely without a presence
the young shall grow
Do you think I was blind
Putting canoe in your womb
Saviour A Willie
Lonely Little Tree
Lonely little tree in the orchard flinging your branches wide in the face of the sun
till winter is done,
and your old leaf is
"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,
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.
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
I've got to tell you
how I love you always
I think of it on grey
mornings with death
A desert life, lonely it may seem
A long journey awaits
But aimless you feel
With no clear path to take
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.
A Good Soldier
He writes to us most every day, and how his letters thrill us!
I can't describe the joys with which his quaint expressions fill us.
He says the military life is not of his selection,
He's only soldiering to-day to give the Flag protection.
Edgar Albert Guest
If We But Knew
If we but knew the weary way,
The poisoned paths of hostile hate,
The roughened roads of fiercest fate,
Through which our brother's journey lay,
Freeman E. Miller
The Last Lonely Night
She was lonely that night,
Thinking about the misery of her life.
She was most probably right
About her having the worst life
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,
Summer pleasures they are gone like to visions every one
And the cloudy days of autumn and of winter cometh on
I tried to call them back but unbidden they are gone
Far away from heart and eye and for ever far away
One pearly day of early May
I strolled upon the sand,
And saw, say half-a-mile away
A man with gun in hand;
Say, crimson Rose and dainty Daffodil,
With Violet blue;
Since you have seen the beauty of my saint,
And eke her view;
As If I Controlled The Time
It was a rainy day, I’s returning home,
The road was not lonely, yet I’s alone.
I was wetting, as no umbrella I’d then.
I was shivering almost wetting in rain.
Time willingly caught in deja vu, Repeating this timeless moment
I slowly drown in your ocean blue eyes
In this heated atmosphere,we stuck, icily frozen
Woman! when you told me we are birds of same feathers
You stole the chocolate from my heart
We almost bleed under your boobian chest
We almost render singspiration
Saviour A Willie
Be the man the nation needs,
Lead an example to the upcoming generation
Be the voice of the voiceless woman
instead of being the pain of the painless woman.
A Short Poem or Else Not Say I
True pleasure breathes not city air,
Nor in Art's temples dwells,
The Female Exile
Written at Brighthelmstone in Nov. 1792.
NOVEMBER'S chill blast on the rough beach is howling,
The surge breaks afar, and then foams to the shore,
Dark clouds o'er the sea gather heavy and scowling,
I dreamed a Voice, of one God-authorised,
Cried loudly throâ?? the world, â??Disarm! Disarm! â??
And there was consernation in the camps;
And men who strutted under braid and lace
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
To-night I close my eyes and see
A strange procession passing me-
The years before I saw your face
Go by me with a wistful grace;
The Lonely Fight
IT'S easy to be right when the multitude is cheering,
It is easy to have courage when you're fighting with the throng;
But it's altogether different when the multitude is sneering
To fight for what you know is right with no one else along.
Edgar Albert Guest
The English Flag
Above the portico a flag-staff, bearing the Union Jack,
remained fluttering in the flames for some time, but ultimately
when it fell the crowds rent the air with shouts,
and seemed to see significance in the incident. -- DAILY PAPERS.
A lonely child with toil oâ??ertaxed,
Sits Cinderella by the fire;
Her limbs in weariness relaxed,
And in her eyes a sad desire.
Sure, they get stubborn at times; they worry and
fret us a lot,
But I'd rather be crossed by a glad little boy
and frequently worried than not.
Edgar Albert Guest
Dim, as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars
To lonely, weary, wand'ring travellers,
Is reason to the soul; and as on high,
Those rolling fires discover but the sky
Fair Eve, as fair and still
As fairest thought, climbs the high sheltering hill;
As still and fair
As the white cloud asleep in the deep air.
The Old Playhouse
You planned to tame a swallow, to hold her
In the long summer of your love so that she would forget
Not the raw seasons alone, and the homes left behind, but
Also her nature, the urge to fly, and the endless
The City Of The Titans
I saw a city in a lonely land:
Foursquare, it fronted upon gulfs of fire;
Behind, the night of Erebus hung entire;
And deserts gloomed or glimmered on each hand.
Clark Ashton Smith
It's a journey . . . that I propose . . . I am not the guide . . . nor technical assistant . . . I will be your fellow passenger . . .
Though the rail has been ridden . . . winter clouds cover . . . autumn's exuberant quilt . . . we must provide our own guide-posts . . .