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I see a dysfunctional future
Wailing in hunger. Many tongues scrabbling for a single bone
Living corpses pile the street.
I hear soothsayers boast in their ignorance and claim a stolen future
With usura hath no man a house of good stone
each block cut smooth and well fitting
Lorsque, par un dÃ©cret des puissances suprÃªmes,
Le PoÃ¨te apparaÃ®t en ce monde ennuyÃ©,
Sa mÃ¨re Ã©pouvantÃ©e et pleine de blasphÃ¨mes
Crispe ses poings vers Dieu, qui la prend en pitiÃ©:
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
Have you not seen death enough?
Innocent bodies streaming the floor.
Have you not sent death errand enough?
Your special convoy at war ceremonies.
Paciolo Pen Saint
Leave your home behind, lad,
And reach your friends your hand,
And go, and luck go with you
While Ludlow tower shall stand.
A. E. Housman
I. LA VIERGE AU DONATEUR
HERE by the ample river's argent sweep,
Bosomed in tilth and vintage to her walls,
A tower-crowned Cybele in armoured sleep
Trees in groves,
Kine in droves,
In ocean sport the scaly herds,
Wedge-like cleave the air the birds,
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Jobson Of The Star
Within a pub that's off the Strand and handy to the bar,
With pipe in mouth and mug in hand sat Jobson of the Star.
“Come, sit ye down, ye wond'ring wight, and have a yarn,” says he.
“I can't,” says I, “because to-night I'm off to Tripoli;
Let Me Not Forget
If it is not my portion to meet thee in this life
then let me ever feel that I have missed thy sight
---let me not forget for a moment,
let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams
SOJOURNER, set down
Your skimming wheel;
Nothing is sharp
That we have of steel:
Let me but do my work from day to day,
In field or forest, at the desk or loom,
In roaring market-place or tranquil room;
Let me but find it in my heart to say,
Henry Van Dyke
That some day, emerging at last from the terrifying vision
I may burst into jubilant praise to assenting angels!
That of the clear-struck keys of the heart not one may fail
to sound because of a loose, doubtful or broken string!
Rainer Maria Rilke
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,
Merry voices chatterin',
Nimble feet dem patterin',
Big an' little, faces gay,
Happy day dis market day.
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
The Grief Of A Girl's Heart
O Donall og, if you go across the sea, bring myself with you and do not forget it; and you will have a sweetheart for fair days and market days, and the daughter of the King of Greece beside you at night. It is late last night the dog was speaking of you; the snipe was speaking of you in her deep marsh. It is you are the lonely bird through the woods; and that you may be without a mate until you find me.
You promised me, and you said a lie to me, that you would be before me where the sheep are flocked; I gave a whistle and three hundred cries to you, and I found nothing there but a bleating lamb.
Isabella Augusta, Lady Gregory
O Hymen king.
Hymen, O Hymen king,
what bitter thing is this?
The King Of Ys
Wild across the Breton country,
Fabled centuries ago,
Riding from the black sea border,
Came the squadrons of the snow.
To see the clouds his spirit yearned toward so
Over new mountains piled and unploughed waves,
Back of old-storied spires and architraves
To watch Arcturus rise or Fomalhaut,
("Their webs shall not become garments, neither shall they
cover themselves with their works: their works are works
of inquity and the act of violence is in their hands." --
Isaiah lix. 6.)
The Hairst O' Rettie
I hae seen the hairst o' Rettie, lads,
And twa-three aff the throne.
I've heard o sax and seven weeks
The hairsters girn and groan.
Reason Says Love Says
Reason says, â?? I will beguile him with the tongue.â?; Love says,
â??Be silent. I will beguile him with the soul.â?
The soul says to the heart, â??Go, do not laugh at me and yourself.
What is there that is not his, that I may beguile him
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
To the God of all sure mercies let my blessing rise today,
From the scoffer and the cruel He hath plucked the spoil away;
Yes, he who cooled the furnace around the faithful three,
And tamed the Chaldean lions, hath set His handmaid free!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Here all the summer could I stay,
For there's Bishop's teign
And King's teign
Progress In The Pacific
Lapp'd in blue Pacific waters lies an isle of green and gold,
A garden of enchantment such as Eden was of old;
And the innocent inhabitants, pure children of the sun,
Resembled those of Eden, tooâ??in more respects than one.
James Brunton Stephens