Keep straw, its time will come.
Turkish proverbs
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Related quotes
Shortest Straw
Suspicion is your name
Your honesty to blame
Put dignity to shame
Dishonor
Witchhunt, modern day
Determining decay
The blatant disarray
Disfigure
The public eyes' disgrace
Defying common place
Unending paper chase
Unending
Deafening
Painstaking
Reckoning
This vertigo it doth bring
Shortest straw
Challenge liberty
Downed by law
Live in infamy
Rub you raw
Witchhunt riding through
Shortest straw
This shortest straw has been pulled for you
Pulled for you
Shortest straw
Pulled for you
Shortest straw
Pulled for you
Shortest straw
Shortest straw has been pulled for you
The accusations fly
Discrimination, why?
Your inner self to die
Intruding
Doubt sunk itself in you
It's teeth and talons through
You're living catch-22
Deluding
A mass hysteria
A megalomania
Reveal dementia
Reveal
Secretly
Silently
Certainly
In vertigo you will be
Shortest straw
Challenge liberty
Downed by law
[...] Read more
song performed by Metallica
Added by Lucian Velea
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First Straw
Oh a whole new way of looking at things
The way you react to phone rings
The way it feels when you just let it flow
Sometimes I wonder just how it could be
You take every bit before we see it off the rails
I think that you should know
You never cease to amaze me
You keep me from going crazy
And that's one thing I know for sure
Sometimes I see just how it all will be
Take every bit it's so easy the first straw
And this I know for sure
The first straw
So small it seemed impossible
The next straw
Vanished like shooting stars that fall
The last straw
There's no reason for getting there at all
Yeah
No reason to take it there at all
Yeah
The last straw can land in your mix
Your best day could be apocalypse
Nobody pay attention to the first straw
It seems the last one is all we ever saw
The first straw's a metaphore I pick up myself
It tells me something by showing me something else
I think that you should know
The first straw
So small it seemed impossible
The next straw
Vanished like shooting stars that fall
The last straw
There's no reason for getting there at all
Yeah
No reason to take it there at all
Yeah
Everyone reacts when it gets to the weight of breaking their back
I won't let that be us cause the long side never gave back
Yeah
The first straw
So small it seemed impossible
The next straw
Vanished like shooting stars that fall
The last straw
There's no reason for getting there at all
Yeah
The first straw
So small it seemed impossible
The next straw
[...] Read more
song performed by 311
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Wat Tyler - Act II
ACT II.
SCENE— BLACKHEATH.
TYLER, HOB, &c.
SONG.
' When Adam delv'd, and Eve span,
' Who was then the gentleman?'
Wretched is the infant's lot,
Born within the straw-roof'd cot!
Be he generous, wise, or brave,
He must only be a slave.
Long, long labour, little rest,
Still to toil to be oppress'd;
Drain'd by taxes of his store,
Punish'd next for being poor;
This is the poor wretch's lot,
Born within the straw-roof'd cot.
While the peasant works— to sleep;
What the peasant sows— to reap;
On the couch of ease to lie,
Rioting in revelry;
Be he villain, be he fool,
Still to hold despotic rule,
Trampling on his slaves with scorn;
This is to be nobly born.
' When Adam delv'd, and Eve span,
' Who was then the gentleman?'
JACK STRAW.
The mob are up in London— the proud courtiers
Begin to tremble.
TOM MILLER.
Aye, aye, 'tis time to tremble;
Who'll plow their fields, who'll do their drudgery now?
And work like horses, to give them the harvest?
JACK STRAW.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Southey
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The Trove at Bioda Mor
The last I saw of Sebastian Fudge
He was dancing the hempen jig,
To pay for the years of pirating
At the side of Captain Kidd.
While Kidd was swung at Tilbury,
Was dipped in a coat of tar,
Then hung in chains by the River Thames
As a sign to the faint of heart!
I'd sailed with Fudge on the Emerald,
In the days when men were bold,
And there wasn't a Frenchman privateer
That we couldn't divest of gold,
I thought of the Spanish throats we'd cut
And the nights of rum and hock,
As Fudge went tripping his final jig
At Execution Dock.
That left just me and Jackie Straw,
Midshipman Bowes, and Penn,
The last of the Jolly Roger crew
Of the ships we'd sailed back then,
So we met at the back of Polly's place,
The One-Eyed Tar that night,
And drank to the soul of Fudge, and drank!
We drank to the broad daylight!
And Polly had joined us there at dawn
The tears still on her face,
She'd been with Fudge, his faithful Moll,
As he swung with little grace:
'He scribbled a map for me, ' she said,
'I've kept it safely hid,
We could have collected the treasure trove
If he hadn't sailed with Kidd! '
'Belay that, let us see the map! '
Said Straw, his eyes ablaze,
And I caught a glimpse of his cutlass raised
In the raiding party days,
But 'Aye', said Penn, 'there's gold enough
And a chest of jewels each,
If we follow the trail of the castaways,
And the gold of Captain Teach! '
'You and your Caribbean gold,
I have no mind for that,
Rather a treasure close at hand,
It's marked on Fudge's map! '
Polly drew out a parchment then
[...] Read more
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Straw Foot
I guess you didnt hear me
When I told you for the first time
Well dont you worry
It wont be the last
All I need a floorboard
An a wooden shoe
Step aside an let my lady through
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
Up an back around
See the high priest
He took my place
When the judge looks to me
He saw his sons face
Not gonna join you in
Your tower of babble, boy
Tired o that talkin
Im sick o that noise
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
Coverin ground
Im not alone
An looks can be deceivin
When we get down to it
Youre talkin when you
Should be leavin
Ive been to nebraska
It reminded me of spain
All the questions loaded
All my answers same
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hay foot, straw foot
Coverin ground
Let us not mince our words
Lets say it true this time
I need your forgiveness
Just like you need mine
Tell me how it is that
You dont want what hes given
It aint no sin son
To be forgiven
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
All over town
song performed by 16 Horsepower
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Time To Feel Forlorn and Reconstruct What's Torn
There's a designated time in the universe for everything:
A time to limit, a time to expand.
A time to rise, time to lower and lend a hand.
A time to maintain, a time to abandon.
A time to develop, a time to rest at random.
A time to communicate, a time for silence.
A time to kiss your enemy, a time to concede wins.
A time to spite, a time to please.
A time for respite, a time to tease.
A time to process, a time to confess.
A time to do more. A time to do less.
A time to dominate. A time to captivate.
A time to plunge. A time to resurface straight.
A time to maximise. A time to minimise.
A time to diminish. A time to optimise.
A time to sacrifice. time to insist on rights.
A time to be selfish. A time to be concerned about plights.
A time to be big. A time to be small.
A time to care for a special one. A time to love all.
A time to add dimension. A time to simplify.
A time to advocate egalitarianism.
A time to exult.
A time to default.
A time to be accepting of imperfect humanism.
A time to enhance. A time to simplify.
A time to criticise. A time to dignify.
A time to produce. A time to use.
A time to relent. A time to refuse.
A time to demand. A time to give.
A time to die. a time to live.
A time to survive. A time to admit defeat.
A time to lie. A time to walk on your feet.
A time to compete. A time to not.
A time to remember. A time to concede you forgot.
[...] Read more
poem by Hercolena Oliver
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I. The Ring and the Book
Do you see this Ring?
'T is Rome-work, made to match
(By Castellani's imitative craft)
Etrurian circlets found, some happy morn,
After a dropping April; found alive
Spark-like 'mid unearthed slope-side figtree-roots
That roof old tombs at Chiusi: soft, you see,
Yet crisp as jewel-cutting. There's one trick,
(Craftsmen instruct me) one approved device
And but one, fits such slivers of pure gold
As this was,—such mere oozings from the mine,
Virgin as oval tawny pendent tear
At beehive-edge when ripened combs o'erflow,—
To bear the file's tooth and the hammer's tap:
Since hammer needs must widen out the round,
And file emboss it fine with lily-flowers,
Ere the stuff grow a ring-thing right to wear.
That trick is, the artificer melts up wax
With honey, so to speak; he mingles gold
With gold's alloy, and, duly tempering both,
Effects a manageable mass, then works:
But his work ended, once the thing a ring,
Oh, there's repristination! Just a spirt
O' the proper fiery acid o'er its face,
And forth the alloy unfastened flies in fume;
While, self-sufficient now, the shape remains,
The rondure brave, the lilied loveliness,
Gold as it was, is, shall be evermore:
Prime nature with an added artistry—
No carat lost, and you have gained a ring.
What of it? 'T is a figure, a symbol, say;
A thing's sign: now for the thing signified.
Do you see this square old yellow Book, I toss
I' the air, and catch again, and twirl about
By the crumpled vellum covers,—pure crude fact
Secreted from man's life when hearts beat hard,
And brains, high-blooded, ticked two centuries since?
Examine it yourselves! I found this book,
Gave a lira for it, eightpence English just,
(Mark the predestination!) when a Hand,
Always above my shoulder, pushed me once,
One day still fierce 'mid many a day struck calm,
Across a Square in Florence, crammed with booths,
Buzzing and blaze, noontide and market-time,
Toward Baccio's marble,—ay, the basement-ledge
O' the pedestal where sits and menaces
John of the Black Bands with the upright spear,
'Twixt palace and church,—Riccardi where they lived,
His race, and San Lorenzo where they lie.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Shortest Straw
Suspicion Is Your Name
Your Honesty to Blame
Put Dignity to Shame
Dishonor
Witchhunt Modern Day
Determining Decay
The Blattand Disarray
Disfigure
The Public Eyes' Disgrace
Defying Common Place
Unending Paper Chase
Unending
Deafening
Painstaking
Reckoning
This Vertigo it Doth Bring
Shortest Straw
Challenge Liberty
Downed by Law
Live in Infamy
Rub You Raw
Witchhunt Riding Through
Shortest Straw
This Shortest Straw Has Been Pulled for You
Pulled for You
Shortest Straw
Pulled for You
Shortest Straw
Pulled for You
Shortest Straw
Shortest Straw Has Been Pulled for You
The Accusations Fly
Discrimination
song performed by Metallica from ...And Justice For All
Added by Lucian Velea
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The straw parlor
Way up at the top of a big stack of straw
Was the cunningest parlor that ever you saw!
And there could you lie when aweary of play
And gossip or laze in the coziest way;
No matter how careworn or sorry one's mood
No worldly distraction presumed to intrude.
As a refuge from onerous mundane ado
I think I approve of straw parlors, don't you?
A swallow with jewels aflame on her breast
On that straw parlor's ceiling had builded her nest;
And she flew in and out all the happy day long,
And twittered the soothingest lullaby song.
Now some might suppose that that beautiful bird
Performed for her babies the music they heard;
I reckon she twittered her répertoire through
For the folk in the little straw parlor, don't you?
And down from a rafter a spider had hung
Some swings upon which he incessantly swung.
He cut up such didoes--such antics he played
Way up in the air, and was never afraid!
He never made use of his horrid old sting,
But was just upon earth for the fun of the thing!
I deeply regret to observe that so few
Of these good-natured insects are met with, don't you?
And, down in the strawstack, a wee little mite
Of a cricket went chirping by day and by night;
And further down, still, a cunning blue mouse
In a snug little nook of that strawstack kept house!
When the cricket went "chirp," Miss Mousie would squeak
"Come in," and a blush would enkindle her cheek!
She thought--silly girl! 't was a beau come to woo,
But I guess it was only the cricket, don't you?
So the cricket, the mouse, and the motherly bird
Made as soothingsome music as ever you heard
And, meanwhile, that spider by means of his swings
Achieved most astounding gyrations and things!
No wonder the little folk liked what they saw
And loved what they heard in that parlor of straw!
With the mercury up to 102
In the shade, I opine they just sizzled, don't you?
But once there invaded that Eden of straw
The evilest Feline that ever you saw!
She pounced on that cricket with rare promptitude
And she tucked him away where he'd do the most good;
And then, reaching down to the nethermost house,
[...] Read more
poem by Eugene Field
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Rumpelstiltskin
Inside many of us
is a small old man
who wants to get out.
No bigger than a two-year-old
whom you'd call lamb chop
yet this one is old and malformed.
His head is okay
but the rest of him wasn't Sanforized?
He is a monster of despair.
He is all decay.
He speaks up as tiny as an earphone
with Truman's asexual voice:
I am your dwarf.
I am the enemy within.
I am the boss of your dreams.
No. I am not the law in your mind,
the grandfather of watchfulness.
I am the law of your members,
the kindred of blackness and impulse.
See. Your hand shakes.
It is not palsy or booze.
It is your Doppelganger
trying to get out.
Beware . . . Beware . . .
There once was a miller
with a daughter as lovely as a grape.
He told the king that she could
spin gold out of common straw.
The king summoned the girl
and locked her in a room full of straw
and told her to spin it into gold
or she would die like a criminal.
Poor grape with no one to pick.
Luscious and round and sleek.
Poor thing.
To die and never see Brooklyn.
She wept,
of course, huge aquamarine tears.
The door opened and in popped a dwarf.
He was as ugly as a wart.
Little thing, what are you? she cried.
With his tiny no-sex voice he replied:
I am a dwarf.
I have been exhibited on Bond Street
and no child will ever call me Papa.
I have no private life.
If I'm in my cups the whole town knows by breakfast
and no child will ever call me Papa
[...] Read more
poem by Anne Sexton
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Lies On The Floor
Making up stories
saying this or that,
reaching for hollow straws
in a hollow straw hat.
Shooting through the straw,
with All your lies,
making your hollow straw pie.
Try and keep all your lying
straws straight,
what lying straw is first
what lying straw is number eight.
Top them all off
with a fake letter,
only you and I know better,
That’s it’s all bogus
and totally a scam,
especially when your talking ham to spam.
Play your way with all your spam
that you baked,
but here’s your big mistake,
something you can’t take,
because I have a crazy 8,
changing the suit for which I take,
and bend your straws and make them break.
FoR your fake straw hat will be no more,
for you’re found out as a lying spam boar.
poem by Christina Sunrise
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The Camels Heart
You come to me with teardrops in your eyes
Expecting me to listen to your lies
You want me to forget and to forgive
Enough, enough, this aint no way to live
I know you wonder why Id leave like this
After all the hurt Ive put up with
This is the last time, this is the last straw
Too late, too late now its your time to crawl
Chorus:
Shes just the straw that broke the camels heart
Its not her fault, its yours we fell apart
No more, Im done, I want a brand new start
(its) shes just the straw that broke the camels heart
Ive been grasping at straws for much too long
This aint the first time you have done me wrong
This time you drew the short end of the straw
The game is over, you have lost it all
Repeat chorus
Shes just the straw that broke the camels heart
song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Turn! Turn! Turn!
Pete seeger
To everything, turn, turn, turn
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing
A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of peace, I swear its not too late
Original source
To every thing there is a season, and a time
To every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time
To plant, and a time to pluck up that which is
Planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to
Break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time
To mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to
Gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a
Time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to
Keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to
Keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of
War, and a time of peace.
song performed by Nina Simone
Added by Lucian Velea
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This Time
Lookin back on my life
Lookin back on my life
You know that all I see
You know that all I see
Are things I couldve changed
Are things I couldve changed
I should have done
I should have done
Where did the good times go?
Where did the good times go?
Good times so hard to hold
Good times so hard to hold
This time, this time
This time, this time
This time Im gonna find
This time Im gonna find
Lookin back on my life
You know that all I see
Lookin back on my life
Are things I couldve changed
You know that all I see
I could have done
Are things I couldve changed
No time for sad lament
I could have done
A wasted life is bitter spent
No time for sad lament
A wasted life is bitter spent
So rise into the light
In or out of time
Gonna rise straight through the light
So rise into the light
In or out of time
In or out of time
Gonna rise straight through the light
Woke up one other day
In or out of time
The pain wont go away
I am growing
In peculiar ways
Woke up one other day
Into a light I pass
The pain wont go away
Another dream, another trance
I am growing
This time, this time
In peculiar ways
This time Im gonna rise into the light
Into a light I pass
In or out of time
[...] Read more
song performed by Verve
Added by Lucian Velea
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There Is No Time
This is no time for celebration
This is no time for shaking heads
This is no time for backslapping
This is no time for marching bands
This is no time for optimism
This is no time for endless thought
This is no time for my country right or wrong
Remember what that brought
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
This is no time for congratulations
This is no time to turn your back
This is no time for circumlocution
This is no time for learned speech
This is no time to count your blessings
This is no time for private gain
This is no time to put up or shut up
It wont no time to come back this way again
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
This is no time to swallow anger
This is no time to ignore hate
This is no time to be acting frivolous
Because the time is getting late
This is no time for private vendettas
This is no time to not know who you are
Self knowledge is a dangerous thing
The freedom of who you are
This is no time to ignore warnings
This is no time to clear the plate
Lets not be sorry after the fact
And let the past become out fate
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
This is no time to turn away and drink
Or smoke some vials of crack
This is a time to gather force
And take dead aim and attack
This is no time for celebration
This is no time for saluting flags
This is no time for inner searchings
The future is at head
This is no time for phony rhetoric
This is no time for political speech
[...] Read more
song performed by Lou Reed
Added by Lucian Velea
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Urban Time vs. Rural Time
3 am:
Urban time: Alarm clocks, hoots and toots
Rural time: Cocks crow, cows moo and weavers beaker
4 am:
Urban time: Whoever snoozed the alarm? Dress up… very scarcely
Rural time: Dust the mat; grab yesterday’s very hard ugali and into overall
5 am:
Urban time: Marikiti and Gikomba beat traffic – rush hour
Rural time: Milking and feeding; early bird catches the worm
6 am:
Urban time: Office not open, tarts hover at Koinange zonked with sleep
Rural time: Coffee farm supervisor calls out names – mine missing
7 am:
Urban time: Offspring sings national anthem in academy playfully
Rural time: Sibling barefoot sings “Yesu anipenda” without blasphemy
8 am:
Urban time: Yaaaawn! Hate work before it even begins – so monotonous
Rural time: Tea baskets at back, yard stick in hand, water jar on head
9 am:
Urban time: What took company tea so long? Was tea boy fired or what?
Rural time: Sing Mary oh, sing Mary oh… Market women return with empty baskets
10 am:
Urban time: Finally the tea is here… (Chit chat) I love this job!
Rural time: The sun’s scorching – take a breath beneath shade
11 am:
Urban time: Silence and whispered gossip, functional smiles and fake hugs
Rural time: Shout greeting from ridge to ridge and insults from bush to bush
12 pm:
Urban time: Yaaaaaawn! Bad date - fear the approach of the next hour
Rural time: Any one with a watch? The sun has hid beneath the cloud
1 pm:
Urban time: Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures – am dieting…
Rural time: Carry produce to factory, take a nap in the wilderness, and water the livestock
2 pm:
Urban time: Oh how I hate this! Parliament session on, but ethics dictate TV without volume
Rural time: Women plot today’s chama as men discuss the local barmaid’s “possessions”
3 pm:
Urban time: Who tampered with the office clock? I can see some hawkers outside…
[...] Read more
poem by David Munene wa Kimberly
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society
Epigraph
Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.
I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.
You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Shepherds Calendar - January- Winters Day
Withering and keen the winter comes
While comfort flyes to close shut rooms
And sees the snow in feathers pass
Winnowing by the window glass
And unfelt tempests howl and beat
Above his head in corner seat
And musing oer the changing scene
Farmers behind the tavern screen
Sit-or wi elbow idly prest
On hob reclines the corners guest
Reading the news to mark again
The bankrupt lists or price of grain
Or old moores anual prophecys
That many a theme for talk supplys
Whose almanacks thumbd pages swarm
Wi frost and snow and many a storm
And wisdom gossipd from the stars
Of polities and bloody wars
He shakes his head and still proceeds
Neer doubting once of what he reads
All wonders are wi faith supplyd
Bible at once and weather guide
Puffing the while his red tipt pipe
Dreaming oer troubles nearly ripe
Yet not quite lost in profits way
He'll turn to next years harvest day
And winters leisure to regale
Hopes better times and sips his ale
While labour still pursues his way
And braves the tempest as he may
The thresher first thro darkness deep
Awakes the mornings winter sleep
Scaring the owlet from her prey
Long before she dreams of day
That blinks above head on the snow
Watching the mice that squeaks below
And foddering boys sojourn again
By ryhme hung hedge and frozen plain
Shuffling thro the sinking snows
Blowing his fingers as he goes
To where the stock in bellowings hoarse
Call for their meals in dreary close
And print full many a hungry track
Round circling hedge that guards the stack
Wi higgling tug he cuts the hay
And bares the forkfull loads away
And morn and evening daily throws
The little heaps upon the snows
The shepherd too in great coat wrapt
And straw bands round his stockings lapt
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poem by John Clare
Added by Poetry Lover
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It's About Time
Time
(time, time, time, time)
Last Time
Wrong time
Outside
Out of line
But this time's our time
Right On
We'll let it shine
(Get Up)
Turn your clock back
Paint it red on black
Bring it all right back
Oh hell yeah
Come on
Alright
Hey hey hey
You can spend my money
Don't you waste my time
(my time, prime time)
Well right now makin up for lost time yeah
Alright! Alright!
I think it's high time we laid it out there on the line
Now it's about time
It's about time
It's about time
Yeah
Bright lights
Old Fights
This time we got it right
(yeah)
It's been a long time, overtime
Second flash, you're out of sight
(yeah so get up)
Turn your, your clock back
Paint it red on black
Get it all right back
Oh Hell yeah yeah
Come on
It's alright
Hey hey hey
You can spend my money
Don't you waste my time
(my time, prime time)
Well I'm about to make it up to you big time
Big, big, big, big time
Well it's about time we laid it out there on the line
It's about time
It's about time
It's a just about time
[...] Read more
song performed by Van Halen
Added by Lucian Velea
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