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Upon A Snail
She goes but softly, but she goeth sure,
She stumbles not, as stronger creatures do.
Her journey's shorter, so she may endure
Better than they which do much farther go.
I Still See You In My Dreams
I still see you in my dreams with your angel face in your beautiful white dress, smiling like a queen.
It was the most beautiful day of my dreams that I've ever seen.
I welcome you my son on earth
More especially in this continent of Africa
In a village of which her people are only warm to foreigners
Feel free my son, I am here for you
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.
Darkness like midnight from the sobbing woods
Clamours with dismal tidings of the rain
Roaring as rivers breaking loose in floods
To spread and foam and deluge all the plain
“Traveller, what lies over the hill?
Traveller, tell to me:
Tip-toe-high on the window-sill
Over I cannot see.”
Walking With God
By faith in Christ I walk with God,
With heav'n, my journeys'-end, in view;
Supported by his staff and rod,
My road is safe and pleasant too,
Red robe is a wall,
Fencing there body, speech and mind,
Encircle from defilements,
Reminding to be always virtuous.
What will be there deep inside the ocean?
Some says there will be precious gems & deposit,
Others imagine that there will be abundant life,
These are all the thoughts created by the mind,
View From A Height
Sharp wind, towering sky, apes howling mournfully;
untouched island, white sand, birds flying in circles.
Infinite forest, bleakly shedding leaf after leaf;
inexhaustible river, rolling on wave after wave.
Well; I may now receive, and die. My sin
Indeed is great, but yet I have been in
A purgatory, such as fear'd hell is
A recreation and scant map of this.
I'm sitting alone by the fire,
Dressed just as I came from the dance,
In a robe even YOU would admire,-
It cost a cool thousand in France;
The rangers are frontline saviours,
With strong mind set of protection,
Poorly equipped & skilled,
Serve as frontline rangers to protect common wealth,
Call Of Mountains
When flower blossom
Bees buzz from one flowers to another
Birds were chirping in the bushes
Is a time of mountains call.
Once a dream did weave a shade,
O'er my Angel-guarded bed.
That an Emmet lost it's way
Where on grass methought I lay.
The Odyssey: Book 03
But as the sun was rising from the fair sea into the firmament of
heaven to shed Blight on mortals and immortals, they reached Pylos the
city of Neleus. Now the people of Pylos were gathered on the sea shore
to offer sacrifice of black bulls to Neptune lord of the Earthquake.
Questions Of Travel
There are too many waterfalls here; the crowded streams
hurry too rapidly down to the sea,
and the pressure of so many clouds on the mountaintops
makes them spill over the sides in soft slow-motion,
Dear Bruner, once we had a little talk
(That is to say, 'twas I did all the talking)
About the manner of your moral walk:
How devious the trail you made in stalking,
SHE will not sleep, for fear of dreams,
But, rising, quits her restless bed,
And walks where some beclouded beams
Of moonlight through the hall are shed.
Let me look always forward. Never back.
Was I not formed for progress? Otherwise
With onward pointing feet and searching eyes
Would God have set me squarely on the track
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
For every hour that thou wilt spare me now,
I will allow,
Usurious God of Love, twenty to thee,
When with my brown, my grey hairs equal be;
The Odyssey: Book 23
Euryclea now went upstairs laughing to tell her mistress that her
dear husband had come home. Her aged knees became young again and
her feet were nimble for joy as she went up to her mistress and bent
over her head to speak to her. “Wake up Penelope, my dear child,”
Blind Old Milton
Place me once more, my daughter, where the sun
May shine upon my old and time-worn head,
For the last time, perchance. My race is run;
And soon amidst the ever-silent dead
William Edmondstoune Aytoun
Heretics all, whoever you may be,
In Tarbes or Nimes, or over the sea,
You never shall have good words from me.
Caritas non conturbat me.
The Night Before
Look you, Dominie; look you, and listen!
Look in my face, first; search every line there;
Mark every feature,-chin, lip, and forehead!
Look in my eyes, and tell me the lesson
Edwin Arlington Robinson
Friends and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blessed abode,
But the hope of the City of God at the other end of the road.
Not for us are content, and quiet, and peace of mind,
The glory of the beauty of the morning, -
The cuckoo crying over the untouched dew;
The blackbird that has found it, and the dove
That tempts me on to something sweeter than love;
Space is ample, east and west,
But two cannot go abreast,
Cannot travel in it two:
Yonder masterful cuckoo
Ralph Waldo Emerson
When I watch folks of this world and see how widespread
It is for those, that pile up treasure and put on fat, to chafe
At the bit and grasp for more, the way they hunger for a safe
As broad as the ocean, and so deep, that it'd never touch the seabed,
Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli
Far in a wild, unknown to public view,
From youth to age a rev'rend hermit grew;
The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell,
His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well:
Crossing swollen streams & rivers,
Climbing glacier mountains and passes,
Crawl over the cliffs & slope,
Sleeping under the trees and caves,
Day and night I wander widely through the wilderness of thought, Catching dainty things of fancy most reluctant to be caught. Shining tangles leading nowhere I persistently unravel, Tread strange paths of meditation very intricate to travel.
Gleaming bits of quaint desire tempt my steps beyond the decent.
I confound old solid glory with publicity too recent.
The Art Of Drowning
I wonder how it all got started, this business
about seeing your life flash before your eyes
while you drown, as if panic, or the act of submergence,
could startle time into such compression, crushing