If you invest a lot but don't maintain it, you won't even harvest enough to re-seed.
Sicilian proverbs
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Related quotes
Harvest For The World
All babies together
Evry one a seed
Half of us are satisfied
The other half of us in need
Loves bountiful in us
Tarnished by our greed
Oh, when will there be a harvest.. for the world?
(harvest for the world)
A nations planted
So concerned with gain
As the seasons come and go, we wont wait in vain
Far too many, feelin the strain
(chorus)
(a harvest.. a harvest)
(a harvest.. a harvest)
(a harvest.. a harvest)
(a harvest.. a harvest)
(a harvest for the world)
Dress me up for battle
When all I want is peace
Those of us who pay the price
Come home with the least
And nation after nation, tuning into beasts
(chorus)
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest..
song performed by Duran Duran
Added by Lucian Velea
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Paradise Lost: Book X
Thus they in lowliest plight repentant stood
Praying, for from the Mercie-seat above
Prevenient Grace descending had remov'd
The stonie from thir hearts, and made new flesh
Regenerat grow instead, that sighs now breath'd
Unutterable, which the Spirit of prayer
Inspir'd, and wing'd for Heav'n with speedier flight
Then loudest Oratorie: yet thir port
Not of mean suiters, nor important less
Seem'd thir Petition, then when th' ancient Pair
In Fables old, less ancient yet then these,
Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha to restore
The Race of Mankind drownd, before the Shrine
Of Themis stood devout. To Heav'n thir prayers
Flew up, nor missed the way, by envious windes
Blow'n vagabond or frustrate: in they passd
Dimentionless through Heav'nly dores; then clad
With incense, where the Golden Altar fum'd,
By thir great Intercessor, came in sight
Before the Fathers Throne: Them the glad Son
Presenting, thus to intercede began.
See Father, what first fruits on Earth are sprung
From thy implanted Grace in Man, these Sighs
And Prayers, which in this Golden Censer, mixt
With Incense, I thy Priest before thee bring,
Fruits of more pleasing savour from thy seed
Sow'n with contrition in his heart, then those
Which his own hand manuring all the Trees
Of Paradise could have produc't, ere fall'n
From innocence. Now therefore bend thine eare
To supplication, heare his sighs though mute;
Unskilful with what words to pray, let mee
Interpret for him, mee his Advocate
And propitiation, all his works on mee
Good or not good ingraft, my Merit those
Shall perfet, and for these my Death shall pay.
Accept me, and in mee from these receave
The smell of peace toward Mankinde, let him live
Before thee reconcil'd, at least his days
Numberd, though sad, till Death, his doom (which I
To mitigate thus plead, not to reverse)
To better life shall yeeld him, where with mee
All my redeemd may dwell in joy and bliss,
Made one with me as I with thee am one.
To whom the Father, without Cloud, serene.
All thy request for Man, accepted Son,
Obtain, all thy request was my Decree:
But longer in that Paradise to dwell,
The Law I gave to Nature him forbids:
Those pure immortal Elements that know
[...] Read more
poem by John Milton
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Investments
Who is paying the price for the debt we rack up?
We all do.
Time is the currency of life.
Invest your time in what you want to grow.
When you invest money, you make more money.
If you invest in war, then you will have many battles.
If you invest in hatred, then hatred shall multiply.
If you invest in love then love will grow.
Every investment is a risk
If you do not risk, then you do not see your investment grow.
Nobody is broke,
But we are all broken.
You can only spend each second once.
Once it is all spent, we leave our inheritance to our children.
What do I want to leave to my children?
For the sake of themselves and their children?
If we invest in love,
We invest in our children.
We are responsible for our own bank accounts,
But also for theirs.
They will learn how to invest from us.
Love is the greatest risk.
But it offers the greatest of rewards.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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The Georgics
GEORGIC I
What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star
Maecenas, it is meet to turn the sod
Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer;
What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof
Of patient trial serves for thrifty bees;-
Such are my themes.
O universal lights
Most glorious! ye that lead the gliding year
Along the sky, Liber and Ceres mild,
If by your bounty holpen earth once changed
Chaonian acorn for the plump wheat-ear,
And mingled with the grape, your new-found gift,
The draughts of Achelous; and ye Fauns
To rustics ever kind, come foot it, Fauns
And Dryad-maids together; your gifts I sing.
And thou, for whose delight the war-horse first
Sprang from earth's womb at thy great trident's stroke,
Neptune; and haunter of the groves, for whom
Three hundred snow-white heifers browse the brakes,
The fertile brakes of Ceos; and clothed in power,
Thy native forest and Lycean lawns,
Pan, shepherd-god, forsaking, as the love
Of thine own Maenalus constrains thee, hear
And help, O lord of Tegea! And thou, too,
Minerva, from whose hand the olive sprung;
And boy-discoverer of the curved plough;
And, bearing a young cypress root-uptorn,
Silvanus, and Gods all and Goddesses,
Who make the fields your care, both ye who nurse
The tender unsown increase, and from heaven
Shed on man's sowing the riches of your rain:
And thou, even thou, of whom we know not yet
What mansion of the skies shall hold thee soon,
Whether to watch o'er cities be thy will,
Great Caesar, and to take the earth in charge,
That so the mighty world may welcome thee
Lord of her increase, master of her times,
Binding thy mother's myrtle round thy brow,
Or as the boundless ocean's God thou come,
Sole dread of seamen, till far Thule bow
Before thee, and Tethys win thee to her son
With all her waves for dower; or as a star
Lend thy fresh beams our lagging months to cheer,
Where 'twixt the Maid and those pursuing Claws
A space is opening; see! red Scorpio's self
His arms draws in, yea, and hath left thee more
Than thy full meed of heaven: be what thou wilt-
For neither Tartarus hopes to call thee king,
[...] Read more

Thanks A Lot, Mom
Thanks a Lot, Mom
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for loving me to no end.
Thanks for being my loving mother.
Thanks for being my thoughtful friend.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for feeding me and giving me a home.
Thanks for clothing me and holding me tight.
Thanks for caring when I felt alone.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for always making me smile.
Thanks for giving me the extra push.
Thanks for going that extra mile.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for living with no regrets.
Thanks for being the life of the party.
Thanks for going all in on bets.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for being my inspiration.
Thanks for helping me with my homework.
Thanks for giving me motivation.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for treating me with respect.
Thanks for knowing I'm growing up.
Thanks for knowing what to expect.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for kicking me while I was down.
Thanks for telling me I'm a liar.
Thanks for knowing what comes around.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for giving me my many scars.
Thanks for making me feel at home.
Thanks for breaking my aching heart.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for taking away my friends.
Thanks for taking away my family.
Thanks for not having to pretend.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for kicking me out of my home.
Thanks for calling me cheap and attention-seeking.
Thanks for putting me out on my own.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for ripping away my Brett.
Thanks for saying you don't remember.
Thanks for saying I should forget.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for believing your husband over your kid.
Thanks for rewarding him for a crime.
Thanks for punishing me for what he did.
[...] Read more
poem by Rebecca Paul
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Paradise Lost: Book 12
As one who in his journey bates at noon,
Though bent on speed; so here the Arch-Angel paused
Betwixt the world destroyed and world restored,
If Adam aught perhaps might interpose;
Then, with transition sweet, new speech resumes.
Thus thou hast seen one world begin, and end;
And Man, as from a second stock, proceed.
Much thou hast yet to see; but I perceive
Thy mortal sight to fail; objects divine
Must needs impair and weary human sense:
Henceforth what is to come I will relate;
Thou therefore give due audience, and attend.
This second source of Men, while yet but few,
And while the dread of judgement past remains
Fresh in their minds, fearing the Deity,
With some regard to what is just and right
Shall lead their lives, and multiply apace;
Labouring the soil, and reaping plenteous crop,
Corn, wine, and oil; and, from the herd or flock,
Oft sacrificing bullock, lamb, or kid,
With large wine-offerings poured, and sacred feast,
Shall spend their days in joy unblamed; and dwell
Long time in peace, by families and tribes,
Under paternal rule: till one shall rise
Of proud ambitious heart; who, not content
With fair equality, fraternal state,
Will arrogate dominion undeserved
Over his brethren, and quite dispossess
Concord and law of nature from the earth;
Hunting (and men not beasts shall be his game)
With war, and hostile snare, such as refuse
Subjection to his empire tyrannous:
A mighty hunter thence he shall be styled
Before the Lord; as in despite of Heaven,
Or from Heaven, claiming second sovranty;
And from rebellion shall derive his name,
Though of rebellion others he accuse.
He with a crew, whom like ambition joins
With him or under him to tyrannize,
Marching from Eden towards the west, shall find
The plain, wherein a black bituminous gurge
Boils out from under ground, the mouth of Hell:
Of brick, and of that stuff, they cast to build
A city and tower, whose top may reach to Heaven;
And get themselves a name; lest, far dispersed
In foreign lands, their memory be lost;
Regardless whether good or evil fame.
But God, who oft descends to visit men
Unseen, and through their habitations walks
To mark their doings, them beholding soon,
[...] Read more
poem by John Milton
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. Matthew (Chapter 13)
Out of the house, then Jesus went
That day, and by the sea, sat down;
Large crowds had gathered around Him
So, sat He in a boat off-shore,
While crowds were standing on the shore.
He spoke in detailed parables:
‘A sower, went to sow, one day,
Some seeds fell on the path, he walked
And birds ate them up, all at once.’
‘Some fell on rocky ground without
Soil adequate and sprouted but,
The soil wasn’t deep and sun that rose
Had scorched while it withered, rootless.’
‘Some seeds had fallen amidst thorns,
And with the passing of the morns,
The faster growing thorns choked them,
And there remained, just stubs of stem! ’
‘Just some seeds fell on soil-rich ground;
They grew so well and it was found
That they produced fruits many-fold
A hundred / sixty / thirty-fold! ’
‘Those who have ears, then ought to hear! ’
His disciples then questioned Him,
‘Why speak to them in parables? ’
And Jesus told them, in reply:
The kingdom’s knowledge. mystery
To you, has been by God granted,
And not to others by the Lord.’
‘To one who has, given is more;
And richer will he always grow;
From those that have a little then,
Ev’n that will be away taken.’
‘In parables, I speak, that’s why
Because they look but cannot pry
They hear but don’t to them pay heed
Nor do they understand the need.’
Isaiah’s prophecy’s fulfilled;
Though you hear, you understand not.
Indeed they look but dot see.’
‘The hearts of people are so gross,
[...] Read more
poem by John Celes
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Orlando Furioso Canto 20
ARGUMENT
Guido and his from that foul haunt retire,
While all Astolpho chases with his horn,
Who to all quarters of the town sets fire,
Then roving singly round the world is borne.
Marphisa, for Gabrina's cause, in ire
Puts upon young Zerbino scathe and scorn,
And makes him guardian of Gabrina fell,
From whom he first learns news of Isabel.
I
Great fears the women of antiquity
In arms and hallowed arts as well have done,
And of their worthy works the memory
And lustre through this ample world has shone.
Praised is Camilla, with Harpalice,
For the fair course which they in battle run.
Corinna and Sappho, famous for their lore,
Shine two illustrious light, to set no more.
II
Women have reached the pinnacle of glory,
In every art by them professed, well seen;
And whosoever turns the leaf of story,
Finds record of them, neither dim nor mean.
The evil influence will be transitory,
If long deprived of such the world had been;
And envious men, and those that never knew
Their worth, have haply hid their honours due.
III
To me it plainly seems, in this our age
Of women such is the celebrity,
That it may furnish matter to the page,
Whence this dispersed to future years shall be;
And you, ye evil tongues which foully rage,
Be tied to your eternal infamy,
And women's praises so resplendent show,
They shall, by much, Marphisa's worth outgo.
IV
To her returning yet again; the dame
To him who showed to her such courteous lore,
Refused not to disclose her martial name,
Since he agreed to tell the style be bore.
She quickly satisfied the warrior's claim;
To learn his title she desired so sore.
'I am Marphisa,' the virago cried:
All else was known, as bruited far and wide.
[...] Read more
poem by Ludovico Ariosto
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Virginia's Story
Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.
She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.
When she was old enough she got married.
First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.
Agnes was my mother.
Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.
Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.
Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.
Anna was a maid and cook.
She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth
They were both good cooks
They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.
My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.
She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.
[...] Read more
poem by Talile Ali
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Dangerous Type
Can I touch you, are you out of touch
I guess I never noticed that much
Geranium lover, Im live on your wire
Oo come and take me whoever you are
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Oo inside angel, always upset
Keeps on forgettin that we ever met
Can I bring you out in the light
My curiositys got me tonight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Oo shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Museum directors with high shaking heads
They kick white shadows until they play dead
They want to crack your crossword smile
Oo can I take you out for awhile, yeah
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Tonight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Tonight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type, alright
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
(tonight) tonight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Tonight
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Tonight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Shes a lot like you
Tonight
Shes a lot like you
[...] Read more
song performed by Cars
Added by Lucian Velea
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Georgic 1
What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star
Maecenas, it is meet to turn the sod
Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer;
What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof
Of patient trial serves for thrifty bees;-
Such are my themes.
O universal lights
Most glorious! ye that lead the gliding year
Along the sky, Liber and Ceres mild,
If by your bounty holpen earth once changed
Chaonian acorn for the plump wheat-ear,
And mingled with the grape, your new-found gift,
The draughts of Achelous; and ye Fauns
To rustics ever kind, come foot it, Fauns
And Dryad-maids together; your gifts I sing.
And thou, for whose delight the war-horse first
Sprang from earth's womb at thy great trident's stroke,
Neptune; and haunter of the groves, for whom
Three hundred snow-white heifers browse the brakes,
The fertile brakes of Ceos; and clothed in power,
Thy native forest and Lycean lawns,
Pan, shepherd-god, forsaking, as the love
Of thine own Maenalus constrains thee, hear
And help, O lord of Tegea! And thou, too,
Minerva, from whose hand the olive sprung;
And boy-discoverer of the curved plough;
And, bearing a young cypress root-uptorn,
Silvanus, and Gods all and Goddesses,
Who make the fields your care, both ye who nurse
The tender unsown increase, and from heaven
Shed on man's sowing the riches of your rain:
And thou, even thou, of whom we know not yet
What mansion of the skies shall hold thee soon,
Whether to watch o'er cities be thy will,
Great Caesar, and to take the earth in charge,
That so the mighty world may welcome thee
Lord of her increase, master of her times,
Binding thy mother's myrtle round thy brow,
Or as the boundless ocean's God thou come,
Sole dread of seamen, till far Thule bow
Before thee, and Tethys win thee to her son
With all her waves for dower; or as a star
Lend thy fresh beams our lagging months to cheer,
Where 'twixt the Maid and those pursuing Claws
A space is opening; see! red Scorpio's self
His arms draws in, yea, and hath left thee more
Than thy full meed of heaven: be what thou wilt-
For neither Tartarus hopes to call thee king,
Nor may so dire a lust of sovereignty
E'er light upon thee, howso Greece admire
[...] Read more
poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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We Care A Lot
We care a lot
We care a lot
We care a lot about disasters, fires, floods and killer bees
We care a lot about nasa shuttle falling in the sea
We care a lot about starvation and the food that live aid bought
We care a lot about disease, baby, rock hudson, rock yeah!
We care a lot
We care a lot
We care a lot about the gamblers and the pushers and the freaks
We care a lot about the people who live off the street
We care a lot about the welfare of all the boys and girls
We care a lot about you people cause were out to save the world
Yeah!
(chorus) and its a dirty job but someones got to do it!
We care a lot about the army, navy, air force, and marines
We care a lot about the ny, sf, and lapd
We care a lot about you people, about your guns
We care a lot about the wars youre fighting, gee, that looks like fun
We care a lot about the cabbage patch, the smurfs, and dmc
We care a lot about madonna and we cop for mr.t
We care a lot about the little things, the bigger things we top
We care a lot about you people, yeah, you bet we care a lot
(chorus) and its a dirty job but someones gotta do it....
song performed by Faith No More
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mama Says
Eat a lot sleep a lot brush em like crazy
Run a lot do a lot never be lazy
(good boy)
Eat a lot sleep a lot brush em like crazy
Run a lot do a lot never be lazy
Eat a lot sleep a lot brush em like crazy
Run a lot do a lot never be lazy
Eat a lot sleep a lot brush em like crazy
Run a lot do a lot never be lazy
Never be lazy be lazy
Eat a lot sleep a lot brush em like crazy
Run a lot do a lot never be lazy boy
Poof!
song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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If It Was About A Lot Of Money
If it was about a lot of money...
My mind would be,
Trimmed in dollar bills.
With-my-thoughts-on a million of them,
And a caring less of my fellowman.
And if it was about a lot of money...
I'd ignore,
Every two cents made.
By anybody wanting to deliver to me,
Any consciousness attached to common sense.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money...
I wouldn't be concerned about the suffering seen.
And if it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
And if it was about a lot of money...
My eyes wouldn't cry when I see these scenes.
If it was about a lot of money...
My mind would be,
Trimmed in dollar bills.
With-my-thoughts-on a million of them,
And a caring less of my fellowman.
If it was about a lot of money...
I'd ignore,
Every two cents made.
By anybody wanting to deliver to me,
Any consciousness to instigate.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money...
I wouldn't be concerned about the suffering seen.
I'd fill my pockets and get away!
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets each and everyday.
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets and get away!
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets up and run the other way.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Harvest Festival
See the flowers round the altar
See the peaches in tins neath the headmasters chair
Harvest festival
See the two whove been chosen
See them walk hand in hand to the front of the hall
Harvest festival
Harvest festival
What was best of all was the
Longing look you gave me
That longing look
More than enough to keep me fed all year
See the children with baskets
See their hair cut like corn neatly combed in their rows
Harvest festival
Harvest festival
What was best of all was the
Longing look you gave me
That longing look
Across the hymnbooks and the canvas chairs
The longing look you gave me
That longing look
More than enough to keep me fed all year
What a year when the exams and crops all failed
Of course you passed but you were never seen again
We all grew and we got screwed and cut and nailed
Then out of nowhere invitation in gold pen
See the flowers round the altar
See that you too got married and I wish you well
Harvest festival
Harvest festival
What was best of all was the
Longing look you gave me
That longing look
Across the hymnbooks and the canvas chairs
The longing look you gave me
That longing look
More than enough to keep me fed all year
Harvest festival
song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Harvest Festival
See the flowers round the altar
See the peaches in tins neath the headmasters chair
Harvest festival
See the two whove been chosen
See them walk hand in hand to the front of the hall
Harvest festival
Harvest festival
What was best of all was the
Longing look you gave me
That longing look
More than enough to keep me fed all year
See the children with baskets
See their hair cut like corn neatly combed in their rows
Harvest festival
Harvest festival
What was best of all was the
Longing look you gave me
That longing look
Across the hymnbooks and the canvas chairs
The longing look you gave me
That longing look
More than enough to keep me fed all year
What a year when the exams and crops all failed
Of course you passed but you were never seen again
We all grew and we got screwed and cut and nailed
Then out of nowhere invitation in gold pen
See the flowers round the altar
See that you too got married and I wish you well
Harvest festival
Harvest festival
What was best of all was the
Longing look you gave me
That longing look
Across the hymnbooks and the canvas chairs
The longing look you gave me
That longing look
More than enough to keep me fed all year
Harvest festival
song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Hind And The Panther, A Poem In Three Parts : Part II.
“Dame,” said the Panther, “times are mended well,
Since late among the Philistines you fell.
The toils were pitched, a spacious tract of ground
With expert huntsmen was encompassed round;
The inclosure narrowed; the sagacious power
Of hounds and death drew nearer every hour.
'Tis true, the younger lion 'scaped the snare,
But all your priestly calves lay struggling there,
As sacrifices on their altars laid;
While you, their careful mother, wisely fled,
Not trusting destiny to save your head.
For, whate'er promises you have applied
To your unfailing Church, the surer side
Is four fair legs in danger to provide;
And whate'er tales of Peter's chair you tell,
Yet, saving reverence of the miracle,
The better luck was yours to 'scape so well.”
“As I remember,” said the sober Hind,
“Those toils were for your own dear self designed,
As well as me; and with the selfsame throw,
To catch the quarry and the vermin too,—
Forgive the slanderous tongues that called you so.
Howe'er you take it now, the common cry
Then ran you down for your rank loyalty.
Besides, in Popery they thought you nurst,
As evil tongues will ever speak the worst,
Because some forms, and ceremonies some
You kept, and stood in the main question dumb.
Dumb you were born indeed; but, thinking long,
The test, it seems, at last has loosed your tongue:
And to explain what your forefathers meant,
By real presence in the sacrament,
After long fencing pushed against a wall,
Your salvo comes, that he's not there at all:
There changed your faith, and what may change may fall.
Who can believe what varies every day,
Nor ever was, nor will be at a stay?”
“Tortures may force the tongue untruths to tell,
And I ne'er owned myself infallible,”
Replied the Panther: “grant such presence were,
Yet in your sense I never owned it there.
A real virtue we by faith receive,
And that we in the sacrament believe.”
“Then,” said the Hind, “as you the matter state,
Not only Jesuits can equivocate;
For real, as you now the word expound,
From solid substance dwindles to a sound.
Methinks, an Æsop's fable you repeat;
You know who took the shadow for the meat:
Your Church's substance thus you change at will,
[...] Read more
poem by John Dryden
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The Child Of The Islands - Autumn
I.
BROWN Autumn cometh, with her liberal hand
Binding the Harvest in a thousand sheaves:
A yellow glory brightens o'er the land,
Shines on thatched corners and low cottage-eaves,
And gilds with cheerful light the fading leaves:
Beautiful even here, on hill and dale;
More lovely yet where Scotland's soil receives
The varied rays her wooded mountains hail,
With hues to which our faint and soberer tints are pale.
II.
For there the Scarlet Rowan seems to mock
The red sea coral--berries, leaves, and all;
Light swinging from the moist green shining rock
Which beds the foaming torrent's turbid fall;
And there the purple cedar, grandly tall,
Lifts its crowned head and sun-illumined stem;
And larch (soft drooping like a maiden's pall)
Bends o'er the lake, that seems a sapphire gem
Dropt from the hoary hill's gigantic diadem.
III.
And far and wide the glorious heather blooms,
Its regal mantle o'er the mountains spread;
Wooing the bee with honey-sweet perfumes,
By many a viewless wild flower richly shed;
Up-springing 'neath the glad exulting tread
Of eager climbers, light of heart and limb;
Or yielding, soft, a fresh elastic bed,
When evening shadows gather, faint and dim,
And sun-forsaken crags grow old, and gaunt, and grim.
IV.
Oh, Land! first seen when Life lay all unknown,
Like an unvisited country o'er the wave,
Which now my travelled heart looks back upon,
Marking each sunny path, each gloomy cave,
With here a memory, and there a grave:--
Land of romance and beauty; noble land
Of Bruce and Wallace; land where, vainly brave,
Ill-fated Stuart made his final stand,
Ere yet the shivered sword fell hopeless from his hand--
V.
I love you! I remember you! though years
Have fleeted o'er the hills my spirit knew,
Whose wild uncultured heights the plough forbears,
Whose broomy hollows glisten in the dew.
[...] Read more
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Got A Lot O Livin To Do
(words & music by aaron schroeder - ben weisman)
Oh yes Ive got a lot o living to do
A whole lot o loving to do
Come on baby, to make a party takes two
Oh yes Ive got a lot o living to do
A whole lot o loving to do
And theres no one who Id rather do it with-a than you
Theres a moon thats big and bright in the milky way tonight
But the way you act you never would know its there
So baby, times a wasting
A lot of kisses I aint been tasting
I dont know about you but Im gonna get my share
Oh got a lot o living to do
A whole lot o loving to do
Come on baby, to make a party takes two
Oh yes Ive got a lot o living to do
A whole lot o loving to do
And theres no one who Id rather do it with-a than you
Theres a balmy little breeze
Thats whistling through the trees
And its telling you to pitch a little woo with me
Why dont you take a listen
Youll never know what youve been missing
Cuddle up a little closer and be my little honey bee
Oh got a lot o living to do
A whole lot o loving to do
Come on baby, to make a party takes two
Oh yes Ive got a lot o living to do
A whole lot o loving to do
And theres no one who Id rather do it with-a than you
Youre the prettiest thing Ive seen
But you treat me so doggone mean
Aint you got no heart, Im dying to hold you near
Why do you keep me waiting
Why dont you start co-operating
And the things I say are things you want to hear
Oh got a lot o living to do
A whole lot o loving to do
Come on baby, to make a party takes two
Oh yes Ive got a lot o living to do
A whole lot o loving to do
And theres no one who Id rather do it with-a than you
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Got A Lot O' Livin' To Do (Film Version)
Oh yes Ive got a lot o' living to do
A whole lot o' loving to do
Come on baby, to make a party takes two
Oh yes Ive got a lot o' living to do
A whole lot o' loving to do
And there's no one who I'd rather do it with-a than you
There's a moon that's big and bright in the milky way tonight
But the way you act you never would know it's there
So baby, time's a wasting
A lot of kisses I ain't been tasting
I don't know about you but Im gonna get my share
Oh got a lot o' living to do
A whole lot o' loving to do
Come on baby, to make a party takes two
Oh yes Ive got a lot o' living to do
A whole lot o' loving to do
And there's no one who I'd rather do it with-a than you
There's a balmy little breeze
That's whistling through the trees
And it's telling you to pitch a little woo with me
Why don't you take a listen
You'll never know what you've been missing
Cuddle up a little closer and be my little honey bee
Oh got a lot o' living to do
A whole lot o' loving to do
Come on baby, to make a party takes two
Oh yes Ive got a lot o' living to do
A whole lot o' loving to do
And there's no one who I'd rather do it with-a than you
You're the prettiest thing Ive seen
But you treat me so doggone mean
Ain't you got no heart, Im dying to hold you near
Why do you keep me waiting
Why don't you start co-operating
And the things I say are things you want to hear
Oh got a lot o' living to do
A whole lot o' loving to do
Come on baby, to make a party takes two
Oh yes Ive got a lot o' living to do
A whole lot o' loving to do
And there's no one who I'd rather do it with-a than you
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
