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Carlos Castaneda

We are men and our lot in life is to learn and to be hurled into inconceivable new worlds.

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Men And Women Just Cant

men and women just cant
no diffrent then any other animal
sleeping needs will always want, hunger
can try, hide each other not, let others know of
but men are men and women are women
lust containted try it and soon will eat each other
men and women just cant
evolution just wont allow it

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Young men and women, strong and sound

Young men and women, strong and sound,
Adorn with beautiful excess
Of play and song and flower-dress
Our fatherland's ancestral ground.
They dream great deeds of ages older,
They long to lead to battles bolder.

Young men and women, strong and sound,
Our nation's honor are, in whom
Our whole life has its better bloom,
Rebirth upon our fathers' ground
Of them of yore. Anew there flower
The old in young folks' summer-power.

Young men and women, strong and sound,
Can doubly do our deeds and fill
With higher hope for all we will,-
Are growth in character's deep ground,
To larger life drawn by the spirit
They from our forefathers inherit.

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Aphorisms: Men and women, Happiness and misery

Some Aphorisms

Happiness is good health and a bad memory unknown
If I dropped dead right now I’d be the happiest man alive Samuel Goldwyn
Ask yourself if you are happy and you will cease to be John Stuart Mill
Be happy, it’s a way of being wise Odette

Anxiety is interest paid on trouble before it’s due Dean Inge
Harmony seldom makes a headline unknown
Don’t do whatever you like-like whatever you do unknown
Comedy is tragedy plus time Carol Burnett

When it rains look up rather than down
For without the rain there’d be no rainbow Jerry Chinn
Everything human is pathetic, the secret source
Of humor itself is not joy but sorrow unknown

I love my raggedy-ass ol’ life
I never want to die Dennis Trudell
We’d all be sorry if
All our wishes were gratified Aesop

Give a man free hands
and you’ll know where to find them Mae West
When a wife learns to understand a man
She usually stops listening to him unknown

All who would win joy, must share it
For happiness was born a twin Lord Byron
A Home is not a mere transient shelter
It’s essence lives in the people within unknown

Be good and you’ll be lonely Mark Twain
Don’t scorn the man who’s happy, he knows something you don’t Paul Jones
Men don’t need women, only parts of their anatomy unknown
Sex is what women have and what most men don’t unknown

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A game called prison ball was enjoyed in France
while English boys played rounder in short pants.
Town ball was the game that Americans played
While friends and family watched from the shade.

American baseball became alive
With Cartwright's rules of 1845.
Civil War soldiers played behind the lines
To help pass time and soothe troubled minds.

Professional baseball got its start
When the National League performed its part.
Soon after fans would pay to see the games
As the players traveled by boats and trains.

From April to October, players play.
Half the time at home and half away.
By thirty, it's time for most to retire
Before they're consumed by game time desire.


The stands are full of eager fans
Who say, we're paid too much money!
But if they would put our suits on
They'd find football isn't funny.

Twenty-two men and five referees
Chasing a pigskin, air filled ball.
Mashing and bashing all the way
Till the striped shirts whistle their call.

All the generals on the sideline
Are waging their athletic war.
And the letters in the words they use
Never amount to more than four.

There's no substitute for winning
As the punishment begins, behold the test
Soon the fans will know, Who's Best.


The Greek and Roman athletes
Wore studs of iron on each hand
Beating and clawing each other
Like two tigers on the sand.

The English called it boxing first
To pound someone with your fist.
Mostly it was done for money
But sometimes by those just pissed.

Matches of the bare-knuckle days
Lasted fifty rounds or more
Till one man's towel would be thrown in
As he lay upon the floor.

Boxers now use soft leather gloves
With their hands wrapped in cotton.
Wearing a mouthpiece for teeth and lips
They fight like those forgotten.


Besides love men need fishing
And for both, most are wishing
Catching trophies chosen best
To be envied by the rest.

Fishing is a game of sport
Loved by all, both tall and short.
We must fool the fish's eye
If we plan to stir and fry.

Some use boats while others wade
As they fish the sun or shade.
Ice-cold drinks help pass the day
While life's troubles fade away.

Most men feel they've everything
With their rod, hook, cork and string.
Be it river, pond or lake
We all pray our line won't break.


Many games were played with a stick and ball
As far back as the early days of man
Till the 14th century, golfers teed off
At St. Andrews, Scotland with clubs in hand.

Today men and women both play golf
As a group or just one or two.
Players, rich, poor, pro, or in between
Practice their swing with clubs, old and new.

They don't go thirsty cause they bring their own
Whatever it takes to enjoy the day.
Sometimes they play several games at once
As they win money or give it away.

There's nothing better than a green golf course
With the sweet scent of spring in the air.
To escape the drudgery of the workplace
Where you can laugh, joke, brag, gamble and swear.

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There Are Too Many Contradictions In A Life

There Are Too Many Contradictions In A Life

There are too many contradictions in a life
to ever write that life down in perfect clarity.

All we can do is select moments of our experience
and make of our great pretensions little Poems.

The whole Truth is a different Poem
one too subtle for us to completely write.

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Unless, Of course...Some 'B's and 'C's Are Men

They've begun to remove the 'N' word.
From Tom Sawyer.
And other Mark Twain books.

It's the strain of being politically correct.
Although the 'B's and 'C's describing women,
Seems to no one to offend.

Of course...
Some 'B's and 'C's are men.
Who appear to enjoy,
A defensiveness that employs...
Everyone's decision,
To feel inadequate AND a self consciousness...
To over dramatize and protect.

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The eyes are black and beautiful complexion fair and sweet.

The eyes are black and beautiful complexion fair and sweet.

Long and loose hang the locks the face innocence breathes.
The brow is broad and winsome eyebrows arched and sharp.

The heart feels stirrings of love the looks downward creep.
Restlessness assails the heart which longs since eve to weep.

Love is in its nascent form in gentle waves the madness leaps.
The false promises that it makes somewhat its worth decrease.

Why shouldn't your lyric Shad touch our heart and soul?
They describe the facts of life and sketch the life complete.

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To Seem The Stranger Lies My Lot, My Life

To seem the stranger lies my lot, my life
Among strangers. Father and mother dear,
Brothers and sisters are in Christ not near
And he my peace my parting, sword and strife.
England, whose honour O all my heart woos, wife
To my creating thought, would neither hear
Me, were I pleading, plead nor do I: I wear-
y of idle a being but by where wars are rife.

I am in Ireland now; now I am at a thírd
Remove. Not but in all removes I can
Kind love both give and get. Only what word
Wisest my heart breeds dark heaven's baffling ban
Bars or hell's spell thwarts. This to hoard unheard,
Heard unheeded, leaves me a lonely began.

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You Never Stop Learning Though You Are Old And Gray

You never stop learning though you are old and gray
From Life and Nature we learn something new every day
Though of Nature's ways little we do seem to know
And our wonder of her only does seem to grow
The migratory swallows are born to fly
Apart from nesting they do spend their days in the sky
In late Autumn they fly off to warms Lands afar
High above the oceans at the speed of a car
To where they were born they return to breed in the Spring
The workings of Nature are a marvellous thing
The mystery of bird migration never cease to amaze
And some never do tire of singing Nature's praise
I know I'm not one of the enlightened few
But each day from Life and Nature I learn something new.

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Suspicion minded men and women suffer in life

Suspicion minded men and women suffer in life,
Suspect is an incurable disease of mind,
There is no medicine for such patients to find,
It is the worst septic of mind to husband and wife,
Broad minded people always live a life of gay,
In any society or family suspect has no respect,
Many families have been divided by suspect,
Suspect brings in us impurity of mind day by day,
Suspected husband and wife doubt one another,
They will have no peace of mind time to time at all,
Husband must not doubt to his wife if she talks to other,
She too may not doubt if he talks with a girl in any hall,
The couple of good character will never bother,
Suspect divides the hearts and builds a hatred wall.

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When men and women

When men and women are able to
respect and accept their differences
then love has a chance to blossom. ♥khû$hî♥

It can fail seldom
As it is followed with wisdom
It is backed by full freedom
With respect and without boredom

How come garden can present blossom?
Think, if there were no flowers to come
Different in colors and various in sizes
To attack the mind and bid to mesmerize

Sun and moon are divine objects
But see differently how they act
One is source of great energy
And another is symbol of love from almighty

If some one likes color black
We should express no displeasure and attack
It her or his choice
What matters most is commitment and promise

If you try to see from pure angle
You may be able to form love triangle
That may have backing from all
As it is sincere and made from heart call

If you love some one from heart
Think of it first as divine art
It has made impact on your mind
Otherwise you were not the first person to find

I salute to all those people
Who succeed in their love struggle?
Feel it from heart and come closer
God is always with them as adviser

Everything shall move as usual
You too must trust and take it as casual
Life is not for making it hard
But live peacefully and look forward

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We curse our lot; we gird at fate;
Like peevish children we complain;
Hope dies, and life grows desperate
Because of ease and pleasures salin.
Because bright fortune fails to smile
And pamper us, as once she used,
But frowns a little for the while,
To bleak despair we are reduced.

Yet, o'er a narrow stretch of sea,
Where lately smiled a city fair,
Falls cataclysmic agony,
And death in horrid shapes is there.
All in an instant men are hurled -
Who knew no foe, who earned no blame -
Out of a peaceful, sunlit world
'Mid shattered homes and seething flame.

Crazed women roam the littered street
Seeking their babes; with sobbing breath
They search grim ruins, there to meet
Fresh, ghastly evidence of death -
Death, creeping death, where men have lain
Trapped 'neath the press of heavy beams
Waiting thro' hours of nameless pain
Such as men know in frightful dreams.

And we complain! . . . Poor timid fools.
Because our luxuries grow less,
Each beats his breast and drones and drools
Of gloom and shattered happiness.
While there, by very earth betrayed,
Forsaken, doomed, men still are men;
And heroism there displayed
Preserves the name of Man again.

There, where the elements conspire
To end a world at one swift stroke.
Stirred by the flame of that grim pyre,
Divinity in Man awoke. . . .
Here, petulant, with tears and blame,
We gird against Fate's mild decree
Who should bow down our heads in shame
And thank our gods for sanctuary.

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And the Bairns Will Come

So you’ve seen at last what we have seen so long through scalding tears:
You have found what we—the People—we have known for twenty years:
And Australia’s hymn is swelling till the furthest fence-wires hum—
Save your country, Legislators—and the bairns will come.
You would put the blame upon us—we are women, we are men;
And our fathers and our mothers gave the country nine and ten.
They had honest work and wages, and the ways to win a home—
Give us half the chances they had—and the bairns will come.

Try the ranks of wealth and fashion, ask the rich and well-to-do,
With their nurseries and their nurses and their children one and two,
Will they help us bear the burden?—but their purse-proud lips are dumb.
Let us earn a decent living—and the bairns will come.

Young men, helpless in the city’s wheel of greed that never stops,
Tramp the streets for work while sweethearts slave in factories and shops.
Shall they marry and bear children to their parents’ martyrdom?
Make the city what it should beand the bairns will come.

Shall we give you sons and daughters to a life of never-rest,
Sacrificing all for nothing in the desert of the West,
To be driven to the city’s squalid suburb and the slum?
Make the city what it should beand the bairns will come.

Don’t you hear Australia calling for her children unconceived?
Don’t you hear them calling to her while her heart is very grieved?
Give the best land to the farmers, make the barren West a home,
Save the rainfall, lock the rivers—and the bairns will come.

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Our Way of Life

It takes two quarters back to back
Of slow or no growth,
To qualify what we are not experiencing...
As a recession.

And I want this totally understood.
If a tree loses a few leaves...
It can still be identified as a tree.
Just because there are no waves showing,
At Laguna Beach at noon on Tuesday...
Does not mean the surfers are going to abandon it!
They realize these things happen.
And will show up on Wednesday at 10AM.

It's like this...
And this is the way I see it.
What's the difference between brown and white eggs?
The taste is the same.

The winds are blowing a little rough right now.
But who here believes those sailors aboard our submarines...
Are not below those waters wishing for smooth sailing,
All the time?
When I had visited the USS Prosperity...
They were all high-fiving!
You all should have seen that!

I know none of this makes sense.
But I am here to tell you the economy is strong!
And that reminds me of Mrs. Parker.
She only had ten dollars to her name.
Not once had I heard her complain,
About feeding her 15 children needing food to eat.
You know why?

And just because we are going to lend,
Trillions of dollars to those financial institutions
That lost investments in the housing industry...
Does not mean we are suffering from a crisis!
And these allegations have to stop,
If we are expected to maintain our greatness.

What we are going through right now...
Is a slight bump on the road to recovery.
And that's why we must stay in Iraq!
To give up now would mean turning our backs,
On our way of life!

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George Meredith

The Patriot Engineer

'Sirs! may I shake your hands?
My countrymen, I see!
I've lived in foreign lands
Till England's Heaven to me.
A hearty shake will do me good,
And freshen up my sluggish blood.'

Into his hard right hand we struck,
Gave the shake, and wish'd him luck.

'-From Austria I come,
An English wife to win,
And find an English home,
And live and die therein.
Great Lord! how many a year I've pined
To drink old ale and speak my mind!'

Loud rang our laughter, and the shout
Hills round the Meuse-boat echoed about.

'-Ay, no offence: laugh on,
Young gentlemen: I'll join.
Had you to exile gone,
Where free speech is base coin,
You'd sigh to see the jolly nose
Where Freedom's native liquor flows!'

He this time the laughter led,
Dabbling his oily bullet head.

'-Give me, to suit my moods,
An ale-house on a heath,
I'll hand the crags and woods
To B'elzebub beneath.
A fig for scenery! what scene
Can beat a Jackass on a green?'

Gravely he seem'd, with gaze intense,
Putting the question to common sense.

'-Why, there's the ale-house bench:
The furze-flower shining round:
And there's my waiting-wench,
As lissome as a hound.
With 'hail Britannia!' ere I drink,
I'll kiss her with an artful wink.'

Fair flash'd the foreign landscape while
We breath'd again our native Isle.

'-The geese may swim hard-by;
They gabble, and you talk:
You're sure there's not a spy
To mark your name with chalk.
My heart's an oak, and it won't grow
In flower-pots, foreigners must know.'

Pensive he stood: then shook his head
Sadly; held out his fist, and said:

'-You've heard that Hungary's floor'd?
They've got her on the ground.
A traitor broke her sword:
Two despots held her bound.
I've seen her gasping her last hope:
I've seen her sons strung up b' the rope.

'Nine gallant gentlemen
In Arad they strung up!
I work'd in peace till then:-
That poison'd all my cup.
A smell of corpses haunted me:
My nostril sniff'd like life for sea.

'Take money for my hire
From butchers?-not the man!
I've got some natural fire,
And don't flash in the pan; -
A few ideas I reveal'd:-
'Twas well old England stood my shield!

'Said I, 'The Lord of Hosts
Have mercy on your land!
I see those dangling ghosts, -
And you may keep command,
And hang, and shoot, and have your day:
They hold your bill, and you must pay.

''You've sent them where they're strong,
You carrion Double-Head!
I hear them sound a gong
In Heaven above!'-I said.
'My God, what feathers won't you moult
For this!' says I: and then I bolt.

'The Bird's a beastly Bird,
And what is more, a fool.
I shake hands with the herd
That flock beneath his rule.
They're kindly; and their land is fine.
I thought it rarer once than mine.

'And rare would be its lot,
But that he baulks its powers:
It's just an earthen pot
For hearts of oak like ours.
Think! Think!-four days from those frontiers,
And I'm a-head full fifty years.

'It tingles to your scalps,
To think of it, my boys!
Confusion on their Alps,
And all their baby toys!
The mountains Britain boasts are men:
And scale you them, my brethren!'

Cluck, went his tongue; his fingers, snap.
Britons were proved all heights to cap.

And we who worshipp'd crags,
Where purple splendours burn'd,
Our idol saw in rags,
And right about were turn'd.
Horizons rich with trembling spires
On violet twilights lost their fires.

And heights where morning wakes
With one cheek over snow; -
And iron-walled lakes
Where sits the white moon low; -
For us on youthful travel bent,
The robing picturesque was rent.

Wherever Beauty show'd
The wonders of her face,
This man his Jackass rode,
High despot of the place.

Fair dreams of our enchanted life
Fled fast from his shrill island fife.

And yet we liked him well;
We laugh'd with honest hearts:-
He shock'd some inner spell,
And rous'd discordant parts.
We echoed what we half abjured:
And hating, smilingly endured.

Moreover, could we be
To our dear land disloyal?
And were not also we
Of History's blood-Royal?
We glow'd to think how donkeys graze
In England, thrilling at their brays.

For there a man may view
An aspect more sublime
Than Alps against the blue:-
The morning eyes of Time!
The very Ass participates
The glory Freedom radiates!

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The Borough. Letter XVII: The Hospital And

AN ardent spirit dwells with Christian love,
The eagle's vigour in the pitying dove;
'Tis not enough that we with sorrow sigh,
That we the wants of pleading man supply,
That we in sympathy with sufferers feel,
Nor hear a grief without a wish to heal;
Not these suffice--to sickness, pain, and woe,
The Christian spirit loves with aid to go;
Will not be sought, waits not for want to plead,
But seeks the duty--nay, prevents the need;
Her utmost aid to every ill applies,
And plans relief for coining miseries.
Hence yonder Building rose: on either side
Far stretch'd the wards, all airy, warm, and wide;
And every ward has beds by comfort spread,
And smooth'd for him who suffers on the bed:
There all have kindness, most relief,--for some
Is cure complete,--it is the sufferer's home:
Fevers and chronic ills, corroding pains,
Each accidental mischief man sustains;
Fractures and wounds, and wither'd limbs and lame,
With all that, slow or sudden, vex our frame,
Have here attendance--here the sufferers lie,
(Where love and science every aid apply,)
And heal'd with rapture live, or soothed by comfort

See! one relieved from anguish, and to-day
Allow'd to walk and look an hour away;
Two months confined by fever, frenzy, pain,
He comes abroad and is himself again:
'Twas in the spring, when carried to the place,
The snow fell down and melted in his face.
'Tis summer now; all objects gay and new,
Smiling alike the viewer and the view:
He stops as one unwilling to advance,
Without another and another glance;
With what a pure and simple joy he sees
Those sheep and cattle browsing at their ease;
Easy himself, there's nothing breathes or moves,
But he would cherish--all that lives he loves:
Observing every ward as round he goes,
He thinks what pain, what danger they inclose;
Warm in his wish for all who suffer there,
At every view he meditates a prayer:
No evil counsels in his breast abide,
There joy, and love, and gratitude reside.
The wish that Roman necks in one were found,
That he who form'd the wish might deal the wound,
This man had never heard; but of the kind,
Is that desire which rises in his mind;
He'd have all English hands (for further he
Cannot conceive extends our charity),
All but his own, in one right-hand to grow,
And then what hearty shake would he bestow.
'How rose the Building?'--Piety first laid
A strong foundation, but she wanted aid;
To Wealth unwieldy was her prayer address'd,
Who largely gave, and she the donor bless'd:
Unwieldy Wealth then to his couch withdrew,
And took the sweetest sleep he ever knew.
Then busy Vanity sustained her part,
'And much,' she said, 'it moved her tender heart;
To her all kinds of man's distress were known,
And all her heart adopted as its own.'
Then Science came--his talents he display'd,
And Charity with joy the dome survey'd;
Skill, Wealth, and Vanity, obtain the fame,
And Piety, the joy that makes no claim.
Patrons there are, and Governors, from, whom
The greater aid and guiding orders come;
Who voluntary cares and labours take,
The sufferers' servants for the service' sake;
Of these a, part I give you--but a part, -
Some hearts are hidden, some have not a heart.
First let me praise--for so I best shall paint
That pious moralist, that reasoning saint!
Can I of worth like thine, Eusebius, speak?
The man is willing, but the Muse is weak; -
'Tis thine to wait on woe! to soothe! to heal!
With learning social, and polite with zeal:
In thy pure breast although the passions dwell,
They're train'd by virtue, and no more rebel;
But have so long been active on her side,
That passion now might be itself the guide.
Law, conscience, honour, all obey'd; all give
Th' approving voice, and make it bliss to live;
While faith, when life can nothing more supply,
Shall strengthen hope, and make it bliss to die.
He preaches, speaks, and writes with manly

No weak neglect, no labour'd eloquence;
Goodness and wisdom are in all his ways,
The rude revere him and the wicked praise.
Upon humility his virtues grow,
And tower so high because so fix'd below;
As wider spreads the oak his boughs around,
When deeper with his roots he digs the solid

By him, from ward to ward, is every aid
The sufferer needs, with every care convey'd:
Like the good tree he brings his treasure forth,
And, like the tree, unconscious of his worth:
Meek as the poorest Publican is he,
And strict as lives the straitest Pharisee;
Of both, in him unite the better part,
The blameless conduct and the humble heart.
Yet he escapes not; he, with some, is wise
In carnal things, and loves to moralize:
Others can doubt if all that Christian care
Has not its price--there's something he may share:
But this and ill severer he sustains,
As gold the fire, and as unhurt remains;
When most reviled, although he feels the smart,
It wakes to nobler deeds the wounded heart,
As the rich olive, beaten for its fruit,
Puts forth at every bruise a bearing shoot.
A second friend we have, whose care and zeal
But few can equal--few indeed can feel;
He lived a life obscure, and profits made
In the coarse habits of a vulgar trade.
His brother, master of a hoy, he loved
So well, that he the calling disapproved:
'Alas! poor Tom!' the landman oft would sigh
When the gale freshen'd and the waves ran high;
And when they parted, with a tear he'd say,
'No more adventure!--here in safety stay.'
Nor did he feign; with more than half he had
He would have kept the seaman, and been glad.
Alas! how few resist, when strongly tried -
A rich relation's nearer kinsman died;
He sicken'd, and to him the landman went,
And all his hours with cousin Ephraim spent.
This Thomas heard, and cared not: 'I,' quoth he,
'Have one in port upon the watch for me.'
So Ephraim died, and when the will was shown,
Isaac, the landman, had the whole his own:
Who to his brother sent a moderate purse,
Which he return'd in anger, with his curse;
Then went to sea, and made his grog so strong,
He died before he could forgive the wrong.
The rich man built a house, both large and high,
He enter'd in and set him down to sigh;
He planted ample woods and gardens fair,
And walk'd with anguish and compunction there:
The rich man's pines, to every friend a treat,
He saw with pain, and he refused to eat;
His daintiest food, his richest wines, were all
Turn'd by remorse to vinegar and gall:
The softest down by living body press'd,
The rich man bought, and tried to take his rest;
But care had thorns upon his pillow spread,
And scatter'd sand and nettles in his bed:
Nervous he grew,--would often sigh and groan,
He talk'd but little, and he walk'd alone;
Till by his priest convinced, that from one deed
Of genuine love would joy and health proceed,
He from that time with care and zeal began
To seek and soothe the grievous ills of man;
And as his hands their aid to grief apply,
He learns to smile and he forgets to sigh.
Now he can drink his wine and taste his food,
And feel the blessings Heav'n has dealt are good;
And, since the suffering seek the rich man's door,
He sleeps as soundly as when young and poor.
Here much he gives--is urgent more to gain;
He begs--rich beggars seldom sue in vain:
Preachers most famed he moves, the crowd to move,
And never wearies in the work of love:
He rules all business, settles all affairs;
He makes collections, he directs repairs;
And if he wrong'd one brother,--Heav'n forgive
The man by whom so many brethren live.


Then, 'mid our Signatures, a name appears,
Of one for wisdom famed above his years;
And these were forty: he was from his youth
A patient searcher after useful truth:
To language little of his time he gave,
To science less, nor was the Muse's slave;
Sober and grave, his college sent him down,
A fair example for his native town.
Slowly he speaks, and with such solemn air,
You'd thing a Socrates or Solon there;
For though a Christian, he's disposed to draw
His rules from reason's and from nature's law.
'Know,' he exclaims, 'my fellow mortals, know,
Virtue alone is happiness below;
And what is virtue? prudence first to choose
Life's real good,--the evil to refuse;
Add justice then, the eager hand to hold,
To curb the lust of power and thirst of gold;
Join temp'rance next, that cheerful health ensures.
And fortitude unmoved, that conquers or endures.'
He speaks, and lo!--the very man you see,
Prudent and temperate, just and patient he,
By prudence taught his worldly wealth to keep,
No folly wastes, no avarice swells the heap:
He no man's debtor, no man's patron lives;
Save sound advice, he neither asks nor gives;
By no vain thoughts or erring fancy sway'd,
His words are weighty, or at least are weigh'd;
Temp'rate in every place--abroad, at home,
Thence will applause, and hence will profit come
And health from either--he in time prepares
For sickness, age, and their attendant cares,
But not for fancy's ills;--he never grieves
For love that wounds or friendship that deceives.
His patient soul endures what Heav'n ordains,
But neither feels nor fears ideal pains.
'Is aught then wanted in a man so wise?' -
Alas!--I think he wants infirmities;
He wants the ties that knit us to our kind -
The cheerful, tender, soft, complacent mind.
That would the feelings, which he dreads, excite,
And make the virtues he approves delight;
What dying martyrs, saints, and patriots feel,
The strength of action and the warmth of zeal.
Again attend!--and see a man whose cares
Are nicely placed on either world's affairs, -
Merchant and saint; 'tis doubtful if he knows
To which account he most regard bestows;
Of both he keeps his ledger: --there he reads
Of gainful ventures and of godly deeds;
There all he gets or loses find a place,
A lucky bargain and a lack of grace.
The joys above this prudent man invite
To pay his tax--devotion!--day and night;
The pains of hell his timid bosom awe,
And force obedience to the church's law:
Hence that continual thought,--that solemn air,
Those sad good works, and that laborious prayer.
All these (when conscience, waken'd and afraid,
To think how avarice calls and is obey'd)
He in his journal finds, and for his grief
Obtains the transient opium of relief.
'Sink not, my soul!--my spirit, rise and look
O'er the fair entries of this precious book:
Here are the sins, our debts;--this fairer side
Has what to carnal wish our strenetb denied;
Has those religious duties every day
Paid,--which so few upon the Sabbath pay;
Here too are conquests over frail desires,
Attendance due on all the church requires;
Then alms I give--for I believe the word
Of holy writ, and lend unto the Lord,
And if not all th' importunate demand,
The fear of want restrains my ready hand:
- Behold! what sums I to the poor resign,
Sums placed in Heaven's own book, as well as mine:
Rest then, my spirit!--fastings, prayers, and alms,
Will soon suppress these idly-raised alarms,
And weigh'd against our frailties, set in view
A noble balance in our favour due:
Add that I yearly here affix my name,
Pledge for large payment--not from love of fame,
But to make peace within;--that peace to make,
'What sums I lavish! and what gains forsake!
Cheer up, my heart! let's cast off every doubt,
Pray without dread, and place our money out.'
Such the religion of a mind that steers
Its way to bliss, between its hopes and fears;
Whose passions in due bounds each other keep,
And thus subdued, they murmur till they sleep;
Whose virtues all their certain limits know,
Like well-dried herbs that neither fade nor grow;
Who for success and safety ever tries,
And with both worlds alternately complies.
Such are the Guardians of this bless'd estate,
Whate'er without, they're praised within the gate;
That they are men, and have their faults, is true;
But here their worth alone appears in view:
The Muse indeed, who reads the very breast,
Has something of the secrets there express'd,
But yet in charity;--and when she sees
Such means for joy or comfort, health or ease,
And knows how much united minds effect,
She almost dreads their failings to detect;
But Truth commands: --in man's erroneous kind,
Virtues and frailties mingle in the mind,
Happy!--when fears to public spirit move,
And even vices do the work of love.

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Men and woman hone their skills

The title to be won being little,
The contenders would be of low ranks.
The title to be won being handsome,
The contenders would be of high ranks.
Men and women are desperate to grow
So that their contenders will be worthy.
But for this, they could not have honed their skills.

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As If We Are Adam And Eve

As if we are Adam and Eve
Our sorrows do not want to leave!

Our tears fall like rivers from mountain
Has anyone else has such a pain?

Our sighs are like gusty wind of monsoon
A sin has taken away life’s best boon!

I haven’t got chance to taste your kiss
Our smiles have gone like lost memories!

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Emily Dickinson

How noteless Men, and Pleiads, stand


How noteless Men, and Pleiads, stand,
Until a sudden sky
Reveals the fact that One is rapt
Forever from the Eye—

Members of the Invisible,
Existing, while we stare,
In Leagueless Opportunity,
O'ertakenless, as the Air—

Why didn't we detain Them?
The Heavens with a smile,
Sweep by our disappointed Heads
Without a syllable—

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Souls Of Men And Women

Gold, silver, and precious stones!
Pearls, fine linen and purple;
Silk, scarlet and scented woods!
Ivory, brass and iron;
Precious wood, marble and cinnamon!
Incense, fragrant ointment and frankincense;
Wheat, cattle and sheep! !
Horses, chariots and slaves;
The souls of men and women are here to stay,
But, who the cap fits, must always wear it.

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