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Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds upon the heel that crushes it.

quote by Mark Twain
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Shepherd's Week : Thursday; or, The Spell

Hobnelia.
Hobnelia, seated in a dreary vale,
In pensive mood rehears'd her piteous tale,
Her piteous tale the wind in sighs bemoan,
And pining echo answers groan for groan.
I rue the day, a rueful day I trow,
The woful day, a day indeed of wo!
When Lubberkin to town his cattle drove,
A maiden fine bedight he hap'd to love;
The maiden fine bedight his love retains,
And for the village he forsakes the plains.
Return, my Lubberkin, these ditties hear;
Spells will I try, and spells shall ease my care.
'With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground,
And turn me thrice around, around, around.'
When first the year, I heard the cuckoo sing,
And call with welcome note the budding spring,
I straightway set a running with such haste,
Deborah that won the smock scarce ran so fast.
'Till spent for lack of breath quite weary grown,
Upon a rising bank I sat adown,
Then doff'd my shoe, and by my troth I swear,
Therein I spy'd this yellow frizzled hair,
As like to Lubberkin's in curl and hue,
As if upon his comely pate it grew.
'With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground,
And turn me thrice around, around, around.'
At eve last midsummer no sleep I sought,
But to the field a bag of hemp-seed brought,
I scatter'd round the seed on every side,
And three times in a trembling accent cried,
'This hemp-seed with my virgin hand I sow,
Who shall my true-love be, the crop shall mow.'
I straight look'd back, and if my eyes speak truth,
With his keen scythe behind me came the youth.
'With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground,
And turn me thrice around, around, around.'
Last Valentine, the day when birds of kind
Their paramours with mutual chirpings find;
I rearly rose, just at the break of day,
Before the sun had chas'd the stars away,
A-field I went, amid the morning dew,
To milk my kine (for so should huswifes do)
Thee first I spy'd, and the first swain we see,
In spite of fortune shall our true-love be;
See, Lubberkin, each bird his partner take,
And canst thou then thy sweet-hear dear forsake?
'With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground,
And turn me thrice around, around, around.'
Last May-day fair I search'd to find a snail

[...] Read more

poem by John Gay
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The Heart Of The Matter

I got the call today, I didnt wanna hear
But I knew that it would come
An old, true friend of ours was talkin on the phone
She said youd found someone
And I thought of all the bad luck,
And the struggles we went through
And how I lost me and you lost you
What are these voices outside loves open door
Make us throw off our contentment
And beg for something more?
Im learning to live without you now
But I miss you sometimes
The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew, Im learning again
Ive been tryin to get down
To the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think its about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you dont love me anymore
These times are so uncertain
Theres a yearning undefined
And people filled with rage
We all need a little tenderness
How can love survive in such a graceless age?
The trust and self-assurance that lead to happiness
Theyre the very things - we kill I guess
Pride and competition
Cannot fill these empty arms
And the work I put between us
You know it doesnt keep me warm
Im learning to live without you now
But I miss you, baby
And the more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought Id figured out
I have to learn again
Ive been trying to get down
To the heart of the matter
But everything changes
And my friends seem to scatter
But I think its about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you dont love me anymore
There are people in your life whove come and gone
They let you down you know they hurt your pride
You better put it all behind you baby; life goes on
You keep carryin that anger; itll eat you up inside, baby
Ive been trying to get down
To the heart of the matter

[...] Read more

song performed by Don Henley
Added by Lucian Velea
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So, Go Tell Your Mama

Go tell your mama,
You've got crushes.
On an old man like me.
And I,
Don't know what you see.

I've got no money.
And drive no car.
I live very basic.
And have had wounds and scars.

So,
Go tell your mama.
You've got crushes.
And I...
See with you,
Just an old man.

Go tell your mama,
You've got crushes.
On an old man like me.
And I,
Don't know what you see.

I've got no money.
And drive no car.
I live very basic.
And have had,
My wounds and scars.

So,
Go tell your mama.
You've got crushes.
And I...
See with you,
Just an old man.

So,
Go tell your mama.
You've got crushes.
And I...
See with you,
Just an old man.

So,
Go tell your mama.
That I,
See with you...
Just an old man.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Grif, of the Bloody Hand

In an immense wood in the south of Kent,
There lived a band of robbers which caused the people discontent;
And the place they infested was called the Weald,
Where they robbed wayside travellers and left them dead on the field.

Their leader was called Grif, of the Bloody Hand,
And so well skilled in sword practice there's few could him withstand;
And sometimes they robbed villages when nothing else could be gained,
In the year of 1336, when King Edward the III. reigned.

The dress the robbers wore was deep coloured black,
And in courage and evil deeds they didn't lack;
And Grif. Of the Bloody Hand, called them his devils,
Because they were ever ready to perform all kinds of ills.

'Twas towards the close of a very stormy day,
A stranger walked through the wood in search of Grif, without dismay;
And as the daylight faded he quickened his pace and ran,
Never suspecting that in his rear he was followed by a man.

And as the man to the stranger drew near,
He demanded in a gruff voice, what seek you here;
And when the stranger saw him he trembled with fear,
Because upon his head he wore a steel helmet, and in his hand he bore a spear.

What seek you here repeated the dark habited man,
Come, sir, speak out, and answer me if you can;
Are you then one of the devils demanded the stranger faintly,
That I am said the man, now what matters that to thee.

Then repeated the stranger, sir, you have put me to a stand,
But if I guess aright, you are Grif, of the Bloody Hand;
That I am replied Grif, and to confess it I'm not afraid,
Oh! Well then I require your service and you'll be well paid.

But first I must know thy name, I, that's the point,
Then you shall have the help of my band conjoint;
Before any of my men on your mission goes,
Well then replied the stranger call me Martin Dubois.

Well sir, come tell me what you want as quick as you can,
Well then replied Dubois do you know one Halbert Evesham
That dwells in the little village of Brenchley,
Who has a foster child called Violet Evesham of rare beauty.

And you seek my aid to carry her off,
Ha! Ha! A love affair, nay do not think I scoff;
For you shall enjoy her sir before this time to-morrow,
If that will satisfy you, or help to drown your sorrow.

[...] Read more

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Violet De Vere

You've heard of Violet de Vere, strip-teaser of renown,
Whose sitting-base out-faired the face of any girl in town;
Well, she was haled before the Bench for breachin' of the Peace,
Which signifies araisin' Cain, an' beatin' up the police.
So there she stood before the Court of ruddy Judge McGraw
Whom folks called Old Necessity, because he knew no law.
Aye, crackin' in a silken gown, an' sheddin' of a tear,
Ashine wi' gold an' precious stones sat Violet de Vere.
Old Judge McGraw looked dourly down an' stroked his silver beard.
Says he: "Although the Sheriff's bruised, the lady should be heared.
What can you say in your defence? We'll give you a square deal."
"I jest forget," said Violet. "Maybe it was my heel.
I always want to kick the gong when I am feelin' gay;
It's most unfortunate, I guess, his face was in the way."
Then scratchin' of his snowy pow the Judge looked down severe,
Where bright wi' paint like plaster saint sat Violet de Vere.

Says he: "I'm going to impose a twenty dollar fine."
Says Violet: "Your Honour, to your judgement I resign.
I realize I should not my agility reveal:
Next time I'll kick the Sheriff with my toe and not my heel.
I'm grateful to the Court because I'm not put in the clink;
There's twenty plunks to pay my fine,--but now I come to think:
Judge, darlin', you've been owin' me five bucks for near a year:
Take fifteen,--there! We'll call it square," said Violet de Vere.

poem by Robert William Service
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Violet The Organ Grinder

Chorus:
I am violet the organ grinder
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I wont go away
I am violet the organ grinder
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I wont go away
Ooh, wait a minute, I think u better trip on this
Ooh, wait a minute, I think u better trip on this
I was on my way to another room
When an image of u sweetly
Appeared in the mirror
Perhaps u recall
U and I were neatly
In the middle of a crystal ball
That now serves as a reminder
On the wall of u and I the organ grinder
In the greatest concert of them all
I am violet the organ grinder {chorus in the background}
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I wont go away
Did u know that I still have your stockings?
I keep em in a drawer next to your brazier
Come hither, my sweet, lend me your attention,
Come hither lend my your ear
I do believe that my piano was stolen
I do believe that u want me near
Well I can deal with a sucker
If hes in your mouth,
But I cant deal with insincere
Im the one that lives in your heart
U love me, no matter what u say
Swear you dont miss the organ grinder
Grinding on you every day
I am violet the organ grinder (I am violet the organ grinder)
And I grind all the live long day (and I grind all the live long day)
(check this out)
Ooh, wait a minute, I think u better trip on this
I took all the pictures you gave me,
And I placed them right under my bed
And I pumped and I pumped
til the gasm much as jumped
From my feet to the top of my head, oh boy!
Im violet the organ grinder {chorus in the background}
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I will not go away

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Some Account of a New Play

'The play's the thing!'-- Hamlet.

Tavistock Hotel, Nov. 1839.
Dear Charles,
-- In reply to your letter, and Fanny's,
Lord Brougham, it appears, isn't dead,-- though Queen Anne is;
'Twas a 'plot' and a 'farce'-- you hate farces, you say --
Take another 'plot,' then, viz. the plot of a Play.

The Countess of Arundel, high in degree,
As a lady possess'd of an earldom in fee,
Was imprudent enough at fifteen years of age,
A period of life when we're not over sage,
To form a liaison -- in fact, to engage
Her hand to a Hop-o'-my-thumb of a Page.
This put her Papa --
She had no Mamma --
As may well be supposed, in a deuce of a rage.

Mr. Benjamin Franklin was wont to repeat,
In his budget of proverbs, 'Stolen Kisses are sweet;'
But they have their alloy --
Fate assumed, to annoy
Miss Arundel's peace, and embitter her joy,
The equivocal shape of a fine little Boy.

When, through 'the young Stranger,' her secret took wind,
The Old Lord was neither 'to haud nor to bind.'
He bounced up and down,
And so fearful a frown
Contracted his brow, you'd have thought he'd been blind.
The young lady, they say,
Having fainted away,
Was confined to her room for the whole of that day;
While her beau -- no rare thing in the old feudal system --
Disappear'd the next morning, and nobody miss'd him.

The fact is, his Lordship, who hadn't, it seems,
Form'd the slightest idea, not ev'n in his dreams,
That the pair had been wedded according to law,
Conceived that his daughter had made a faux pas;
So he bribed at a high rate
A sort of a Pirate
To knock out the poor dear young Gentleman's brains,
And gave him a handsome douceur for his pains.
The Page thus disposed of, his Lordship now turns
His attention at once to the Lday's concerns;
And, alarm'd for the future,
Looks out for a suitor,
One not fond of raking, nor giv'n to 'the pewter,'

[...] Read more

poem by Richard Harris Barham
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F R A G R A N C E

F R A G R A N C E
Vavroovahana Patra.
Fragrance of jasmines provides devotion;
Beauteous is God’s lovely creation.
Fragrance of agarvati inspires all daily;
Surrendering on the Lotus feet function duty gaily.

Fragrance of Lotus is delighting;
The beautiful shrine is attracting.
Mother Mahalaxmi blesses poets in morn;
Beauteous looks the lovely dawn.

Fragrance of Mahalaxmi’s shrine enhances devotion;
Beauteous is Maa’s mysterious creation.
Mother makes poor poets wealthy;
With her desire poets remain healthy.

Fragrance of ‘rajanigandha’ enhances love affection;
Beauteous looks entire creations.
Poets enjoy the beauty silently;
Soul drinks the nectar of peace delightfully.

Fragrance of Deities takes mind to the world of peace;
Surrendering on Narayana’s lotus feet derive divine bliss.
Blessings of Gods and Goddesses makes poets popular on Earth;
Praying morn, eve, day, night derive peace, mirth.

Fragrance of Kalia’s temple provides peace;
Surrendering on the lotus feet derive bliss.
Fragrance of spiritual shrines takes mind to the world of peace,
Praying Jagannath derive divine bliss.

Fragrance of flowers on shrines enhances devotional energy;
Devotees’ path of journey becomes flowery.
Derive profound perennial peace;
Praying Neelamadhava derive divine bliss.

Offering fragrant flowers derive divine bliss;
Surrendering whole heatedly derive divine wish.
Prayer provides profound peace;
Praying derive heavenly bliss.

poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Thurso’s Landing

I
The coast-road was being straightened and repaired again,
A group of men labored at the steep curve
Where it falls from the north to Mill Creek. They scattered and hid
Behind cut banks, except one blond young man
Who stooped over the rock and strolled away smiling
As if he shared a secret joke with the dynamite;
It waited until he had passed back of a boulder,
Then split its rock cage; a yellowish torrent
Of fragments rose up the air and the echoes bumped
From mountain to mountain. The men returned slowly
And took up their dropped tools, while a banner of dust
Waved over the gorge on the northwest wind, very high
Above the heads of the forest.
Some distance west of the road,
On the promontory above the triangle
Of glittering ocean that fills the gorge-mouth,
A woman and a lame man from the farm below
Had been watching, and turned to go down the hill. The young
woman looked back,
Widening her violet eyes under the shade of her hand. 'I think
they'll blast again in a minute.'
And the man: 'I wish they'd let the poor old road be. I don't
like improvements.' 'Why not?' 'They bring in the world;
We're well without it.' His lameness gave him some look of age
but he was young too; tall and thin-faced,
With a high wavering nose. 'Isn't he amusing,' she said, 'that
boy Rick Armstrong, the dynamite man,
How slowly he walks away after he lights the fuse. He loves to
show off. Reave likes him, too,'
She added; and they clambered down the path in the rock-face,
little dark specks
Between the great headland rock and the bright blue sea.

II
The road-workers had made their camp
North of this headland, where the sea-cliff was broken down and
sloped to a cove. The violet-eyed woman's husband,
Reave Thurso, rode down the slope to the camp in the gorgeous
autumn sundown, his hired man Johnny Luna
Riding behind him. The road-men had just quit work and four
or five were bathing in the purple surf-edge,
The others talked by the tents; blue smoke fragrant with food
and oak-wood drifted from the cabin stove-pipe
And slowly went fainting up the vast hill.
Thurso drew rein by
a group of men at a tent door
And frowned at them without speaking, square-shouldered and
heavy-jawed, too heavy with strength for so young a man,
He chose one of the men with his eyes. 'You're Danny Woodruff,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Forgiveness

Forgiveness is an act that works through God;
Forgiveness is an act of God in man;
Forgiveness is the work of God’s great love;
Forgiveness is an art that man must learn!

Men with good sense will restrain their anger;
Such men defer their anger for long times;
To forgive transgressions is man’s glory;
To hold one’s tongue is done by people smart.

Forgiving is an act almost divine;
Forgiving is something not all can do;
Forgiving someone is too tough at times;
Forgiving fully is done by just few!

To preach is easy; forgiving is tough;
Forgiving is an honor of men wise;
If God should forgive us, we must forgive;
Like God, we must be slow to anger too.

‘Forgive those who sin against us, ’ tells Christ;
To gain God’s forgiveness, we must then, first;
There is no limit to forgive someone;
Forgiveness is a virtue Jesus taught.

One who forgives has no revenge in heart;
One who forgives has no hate from the start;
‘Forgive and God will forgive you, ’ says Lord.
Forgiving plants the seed of love of God.

When all are sinners, forgiveness is prime;
By doing so, we gain the love of God;
Through forgiveness, our tolerance will grow;
For prayers to be heard, forgive right now!

A man with grudge is like a fruitless tree!
Grudge can stand in-between you and heaven!
Spare no occasion of forgiving men;
Judge not others but show mercy on them!

We turn like God when we forgive others;
Forgiving earns more souls for God, brothers!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-13-2009

poem by John Celes
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Forgiveness!

Forgiveness is the sweet fruit a tree giveth,
Forgiveness is that energy, a fruit to its eater giveth,
Forgiveness is the milk a cow giveth,
Forgiveness is the light, that burning candle giveth,
Forgiveness is the life, the world giveth,
Forgiveness is rain that the clouds giveth,
Forgiveness is that natural, the one understood nature giveth,
Forgiveness is the perfume of selflessness in one spredeth,
Like sunlight in winter,
like moonlight in dark,
Like cool breeze in summer,
Like oasis in a desert,
Like spring of pure love, from a pure heart forever springeth!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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They Once Said

He said, all that glitters is not gold.
He once said, in the depths of winter
He finally learned that within him
There lay an invincible summer.
He wrote, you purchase pain with all that joy can give
And die of nothing but a rage to live.
He once said, he who does not forgive
Burns a bridge he too must someday cross.
He once said, forgiveness is the fragrance
A violet sheds on the heel that crushed it.
He said, love your neighbour as yourself.
He wearily said, all is vanity.
He defined a fool, as he who said
In his heart that there is no God.
He once said, what lies behind us
And what lies before us, is nothing Compared to what lies within us.
He strongly advised that
Talent is God given, be humble.
Fame is man given, be grateful.
Conceit is self given, be careful.
He observed life under the sun and shared that
The race is not to the swift
Nor the battle to the strong
Neither yet bread to the wise
Nor yet riches to men of understanding
Nor yet favour to men of skill;
But that time and chance happens
to them all.
He once said never judge a book by its cover.
He once said that health is wealth.
He once said, you are not what you think you are
But what you think, you are.
The watchmaker promised, time heals all wounds
He said, time which sees all, reveals all
He taught that ambition is the path to success
Persistence is the vehicle you
arrive in.
He said, everything has been said
before
But since nobody listens we have to keep going back
And beginning all over again.
He summed up everything he'd learned about life in three words
It goes on...
And so life went on and poured us out
And we heard these things
Stood at the crossroads of highroads and lowroads
And chose no road, doing as each saw wise
In his infinitely minute wisdom
We judged every book we saw by its cover
And assumed every glittering glass was gold

[...] Read more

poem by Jenim Dibie
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Hi Heel Sneakers

(words & music by robert higginbotham)
Put on your red dress baby cause were going out tonight, oh yeah!
Put on your red dress baby cause were going out tonight, yeah!
Well now wear some boxing gloves in case some fool might start a fight
You know what Im sayin
Put on your hi-heel sneakers, put your wig hat on your head, oh yeah!
Put on your hi-heel sneakers, slap that wig right on your head, yeah!
Well Im pretty sure now baby, pretty soon youre gonna knock em dead
Oh gonna mess around baby
All right!
Da da da da etc.
Put on your red dress baby cause were going out tonight, oh yeah!
Put on your red dress baby cause were going out tonight, yeah!
Well now wear some boxing gloves in case some fool might start a fight
You know what Im sayin
Put on your hi-heel sneakers, put your wig hat on your head, oh yeah!
Put on your hi-heel sneakers, slap that wig right on your head, yeah!
Well Im pretty sure now baby, pretty soon youre gonna knock em dead
Walk around baby!
Da da da etc.
Put on your hi-heel sneakers, put your wig hat on your head, oh yeah!
Put on your hi-heel sneakers, slap that wig right on your head, yeah!
Well Im pretty sure now baby, pretty soon youre gonna knock em dead
All right take it home baby!
Da da da etc.

song performed by Elvis Presley
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Hurricane Cindy

What's that piece of ass i see walking over here?
What's that piece of ass to me, who is she standing near?
And when i walk on a cyclone
You should see it get rolling
Over my heart and emotion inside me
They go rolling inside me
Hold me close and never let me go
All my life i've wanted you to know
A few things 'bout me
I feel beautiful today
Lovely, beautiful
Saturday, saturday, saturday, saturday
Saturday, saturday, what's on the heel?
Saturday, saturday, saturday, saturday
What's on the heel, what's on the heel?
And when i walk on a cyclone
You should see it get rolling
Over my heart and emotion inside me
They go rolling inside me
Put it on the stereo and play
All my life i've wanted you to say
A few things 'bout me
I feel beautiful today
Lovely, beautiful
Saturday, saturday, saturday, saturday
Saturday, saturday, what's on the heel?
Saturday, saturday, saturday, saturday
What's on the heel, what's on the heel?
And when i walk on a cyclone
You should see it get rolling
Over my heart and emotions inside me
They go rolling inside me
And when i walk it's a riot
You should see the commotion
A hundred people drowning in oceans inside me
They go rolling inside me
Inside me
Inside me
"that's for cindy crawford.

song performed by Liz Phair
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Modern Love

I

By this he knew she wept with waking eyes:
That, at his hand's light quiver by her head,
The strange low sobs that shook their common bed
Were called into her with a sharp surprise,
And strangled mute, like little gaping snakes,
Dreadfully venomous to him. She lay
Stone-still, and the long darkness flowed away
With muffled pulses. Then, as midnight makes
Her giant heart of Memory and Tears
Drink the pale drug of silence, and so beat
Sleep's heavy measure, they from head to feet
Were moveless, looking through their dead black years,
By vain regret scrawled over the blank wall.
Like sculptured effigies they might be seen
Upon their marriage-tomb, the sword between;
Each wishing for the sword that severs all.

II

It ended, and the morrow brought the task.
Her eyes were guilty gates, that let him in
By shutting all too zealous for their sin:
Each sucked a secret, and each wore a mask.
But, oh, the bitter taste her beauty had!
He sickened as at breath of poison-flowers:
A languid humour stole among the hours,
And if their smiles encountered, he went mad,
And raged deep inward, till the light was brown
Before his vision, and the world, forgot,
Looked wicked as some old dull murder-spot.
A star with lurid beams, she seemed to crown
The pit of infamy: and then again
He fainted on his vengefulness, and strove
To ape the magnanimity of love,
And smote himself, a shuddering heap of pain.

III

This was the woman; what now of the man?
But pass him. If he comes beneath a heel,
He shall be crushed until he cannot feel,
Or, being callous, haply till he can.
But he is nothing:- nothing? Only mark
The rich light striking out from her on him!
Ha! what a sense it is when her eyes swim
Across the man she singles, leaving dark
All else! Lord God, who mad'st the thing so fair,
See that I am drawn to her even now!

[...] Read more

poem by George Meredith
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The Troubadour. Canto 4

IT was a wild and untrain'd bower,
Enough to screen from April shower,
Or shelter from June's hotter hour,
Tapestried with starry jessamines,
The summer's gold and silver mines;
With a moss seat, and its turf set
With crowds of the white violet.
And close beside a fountain play'd,
Dim, cool, from its encircling shade;
And lemon trees grew round, as pale
As never yet to them the gale
Had brought a message from the sun
To say their summer task was done.
It was a very solitude
For love in its despairing mood,
With just enough of breath and bloom,
With just enough of calm and gloom,
To suit a heart where love has wrought
His wasting work, with saddest thought;
Where all its sickly fantasies
May call up suiting images:
With flowers like hopes that spring and fade
As only for a mockery made,
And shadows of the boughs that fall
Like sorrow drooping over all.

And LEILA , loveliest! can it be
Such destiny is made for thee?
Yes, it is written on thy brow
The all thy lip may not avow,--
All that in woman's heart can dwell,
Save by a blush unutterable.
Alas! that ever RAYMOND came
To light thy cheek and heart to flame,--
A hidden fire, but not the less
Consuming in its dark recess.

She had leant by his couch of pain,
When throbbing pulse and bursting vein
Fierce spoke the fever, when fate near
Rode on the tainted atmosphere;
And though that parch'd lip spoke alone
Of other love, in fondest tone,
And though the maiden knew that death
Might be upon his lightest breath,
Yet never by her lover's side
More fondly watch'd affianced bride,--
With pain or fear more anxious strove,
Than LEILA watch'd another's love.

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poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Four Seasons : Spring

Come, gentle Spring! ethereal Mildness! come,
And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud,
While music wakes around, veil'd in a shower
Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend.
O Hertford, fitted or to shine in courts
With unaffected grace, or walk the plain
With innocence and meditation join'd
In soft assemblage, listen to my song,
Which thy own Season paints; when Nature all
Is blooming and benevolent, like thee.
And see where surly Winter passes off,
Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts:
His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill,
The shatter'd forest, and the ravaged vale;
While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch,
Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost,
The mountains lift their green heads to the sky.
As yet the trembling year is unconfirm'd,
And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze,
Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets
Deform the day delightless: so that scarce
The bittern knows his time, with bill ingulf'd,
To shake the sounding marsh; or from the shore
The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath,
And sing their wild notes to the listening waste
At last from Aries rolls the bounteous sun,
And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more
The expansive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold
But, full of life and vivifying soul,
Lifts the light clouds sublime, and spreads then thin,
Fleecy, and white, o'er all-surrounding heaven.
Forth fly the tepid airs: and unconfined,
Unbinding earth, the moving softness strays.
Joyous, the impatient husbandman perceives
Relenting Nature, and his lusty steers
Drives from their stalls, to where the well used plough
Lies in the furrow, loosen'd from the frost.
There, unrefusing, to the harness'd yoke
They lend their shoulder, and begin their toil,
Cheer'd by the simple song and soaring lark.
Meanwhile incumbent o'er the shining share
The master leans, removes the obstructing clay,
Winds the whole work, and sidelong lays the glebe
While through the neighbouring fields the sowe stalks,
With measured step, and liberal throws the grain
Into the faithful bosom of the ground;
The harrow follows harsh, and shuts the scene.
Be gracious, Heaven! for now laborious Man
Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes, blow!
Ye softening dews, ye tender showers, descend!

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poem by James Thomson
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The Four Seasons : Autumn

Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on; the Doric reed once more,
Well pleased, I tune. Whate'er the wintry frost
Nitrous prepared; the various blossom'd Spring
Put in white promise forth; and Summer-suns
Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view,
Full, perfect all, and swell my glorious theme.
Onslow! the Muse, ambitious of thy name,
To grace, inspire, and dignify her song,
Would from the public voice thy gentle ear
A while engage. Thy noble cares she knows,
The patriot virtues that distend thy thought,
Spread on thy front, and in thy bosom glow;
While listening senates hang upon thy tongue,
Devolving through the maze of eloquence
A roll of periods, sweeter than her song.
But she too pants for public virtue, she,
Though weak of power, yet strong in ardent will,
Whene'er her country rushes on her heart,
Assumes a bolder note, and fondly tries
To mix the patriot's with the poet's flame.
When the bright Virgin gives the beauteous days,
And Libra weighs in equal scales the year;
From Heaven's high cope the fierce effulgence shook
Of parting Summer, a serener blue,
With golden light enliven'd, wide invests
The happy world. Attemper'd suns arise,
Sweet-beam'd, and shedding oft through lucid clouds
A pleasing calm; while broad, and brown, below
Extensive harvests hang the heavy head.
Rich, silent, deep, they stand; for not a gale
Rolls its light billows o'er the bending plain:
A calm of plenty! till the ruffled air
Falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to blow.
Rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky;
The clouds fly different; and the sudden sun
By fits effulgent gilds the illumined field,
And black by fits the shadows sweep along.
A gaily chequer'd heart-expanding view,
Far as the circling eye can shoot around,
Unbounded tossing in a flood of corn.
These are thy blessings, Industry! rough power!
Whom labour still attends, and sweat, and pain;
Yet the kind source of every gentle art,
And all the soft civility of life:
Raiser of human kind! by Nature cast,
Naked, and helpless, out amid the woods
And wilds, to rude inclement elements;
With various seeds of art deep in the mind

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poem by James Thomson
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The Domestic Affections

WHENCE are those tranquil joys, in mercy giv'n,
To light the wilderness with beams of Heav'n?
To sooth our cares, and thro' the cloud diffuse,
Their tempered sun-shine, and celestial hues?
Those pure delights, ordain'd on life to throw
Gleams of the bliss ethereal natures know?
Say, do they grace Ambition's regal throne,
When kneeling myriads call the world his own?
Or dwell with luxury, in th' enchanted bow'rs,
Where taste and wealth exert creative pow'rs?

Favor'd of Heav'n! O Genius! are they thine,
When round thy brow the wreaths of glory shine;
While rapture gazes on thy radiant way,
'Midst the bright realms of clear and mental day?

No! sacred joys! 'tis yours to dwell enshrin'd,
Most fondly cherish'd, in the purest mind;
To twine with flowers, those lov'd, endearing ties,
On earth so sweet,—so perfect in the skies!

Nurs'd on the lap of solitude and shade,
The violet smiles, embosom'd in the glade;
There sheds her spirit on the lonely gale,
Gem of seclusion! treasure of the vale!
Thus, far retir'd from life's tumultuous road,
Domestic bliss has fix'd her calm abode,
Where hallow'd innocence and sweet repose
May strew her shadowy path with many a rose:
As, when dread thunder shakes the troubled sky,
The cherub, infancy, can close its eye,
And sweetly smile, unconscious of a tear,
While viewless angels wave their pinions near;
Thus, while around the storms of discord roll,
Borne on resistless wing, from pole to pole;

While war's red lightnings desolate the ball,
And thrones and empires in destruction fall;
Then, calm as evening on the silvery wave,
When the wind slumbers in the ocean-cave,
She dwells, unruffled, in her bow'r of rest,
Her empire, home!—her throne, affection's breast!

For her, sweet nature wears her loveliest blooms,
And softer sun-shine ev'ry scene illumes.
When spring awakes the spirit of the breeze,
Whose light wing undulates the sleeping seas;
When summer, waving her creative wand,
Bids verdure smile, and glowing life expand;
Or autumn's pencil sheds, with magic trace,

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poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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See Thru

No apology necessary shut your mouth
Youve closed your mind
Weve been walking this road forever
It dont lead to paradise
In the mirror your sad reflection haunting you
Now I see mine
Yes I see mine
And you just dont get it
But you just might regret it, you might regret it
Shooting the rainbows from the sky
Throwing your love to passers by
Begging forgiveness for your crime
Never prepared to do your time
Its always them and never you
cause youre so see thru, I see thru you
(cause youre so see thru)
Aint no use in demanding justice
Youre a victim of your sight
I held you up when your heart was heavy
Now you never give me mine
In the mirror my sad reflection haunting me
One more time, one more time
And you just dont get it, do ya?
But you just might regret it, yeah yeah yeah yeah
Shooting the rainbows from the sky
Throwing your love to passers by
Begging forgiveness for your crime
Never prepared to do your time
Its always them and never you
cause youre so see thru, I see thru you
(cause youre so see thru)
Shooting the rainbows from the sky
Throwing your love to passers by
Begging forgiveness for your crime
Never prepared to do your time
Its always them and never you
Boy youre so see thru, I see thru you
(cause youre so see thru)
You just dont get it, no you just dont get it
You just dont get it but you might regret it
You might regret it
Shooting the rainbows from the sky
Throwing your love to passers by
Begging forgiveness for your crime
Never prepared to do your time
Its always them and never you
cause youre so see thru, I see thru you
(cause youre so see thru)
Shooting the rainbows from the sky - youre so see thru
Throwing your love to passers by

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song performed by Culture Club
Added by Lucian Velea
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