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You know as a scientist that both were developed completely independently of each other in the laboratories. And only afterward were the political situations contrived out of which they could be justified.

quote by E.P. Thompson
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Am A Scientist

Hehehe
Hihihihihihihiii
I got it
Woohoowoo
Woohoowoo
Got it got it
Woohoowoo
In me the scientist
Always get stuck on always trying this
I try to live on science alone
Analysis and freaky sensitivity
We've gotta live on science alone
I got it Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Woohoowoo
We've gotta live on science alone
Religiously I'm speaking on the science 'cause
We've gotta live on science alone
I'll tell you what mathematically I'm having it
I want to live on science alone
Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
We've gotta live on science alone
In me the scientist
Always stuck on always trying this
I try to live on science alone
Analysis and freaky sensitivity
We've gotta live on science alone
Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
'Cause I can live on science alone
We've gotta live on science alone
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Yeah uh I am a scientist

song performed by Dandy Warhols
Added by Lucian Velea
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Scientist

Hehehe
Hihihihihihihiii
I got it
Woohoowoo
Woohoowoo
Got it got it
Woohoowoo
In me the scientist
Always get stuck on always trying this
I try to live on science alone
Analysis and freaky sensitivity
We've gotta live on science alone
I got it Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Woohoowoo
We've gotta live on science alone
Religiously I'm speaking on the science 'cause
We've gotta live on science alone
I'll tell you what mathematically I'm having it
I want to live on science alone
Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
We've gotta live on science alone
In me the scientist
Always stuck on always trying this
I try to live on science alone
Analysis and freaky sensitivity
We've gotta live on science alone
Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Woohoowoo
Yeah uh I am a scientist
'Cause I can live on science alone
We've gotta live on science alone
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Yeah uh I am a scientist
Yeah uh I am a scientist

song performed by Dandy Warhols
Added by Lucian Velea
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Love Science

Ive been around the world, Im going around again
I got a new word up, gonna lay it on my friends
Im still too young, Ive got these emotions in my blood
But when I grow up, gonna be a scientist of love
Working on, love science
Got to know, love science
Show the world, love science
How to be a scientist of love
Tell my friends, love science
Take a chance, love science
Give it up, love science
Im a scientist of love
Feel the power, love science
Study hard, love science
Know the truth, love science
Be a scientist of love
Choose a plan, love science
Pick em up, put em down, love science
Bring it on home, love science
Got to be a scientist of love
Hey you!
Sometimes you get screwed up, and youre looking for a cure
But you dont want to see just another amateur
I know the kind of expert you must be thinking of
Go out and find yourself a scientist of love
Some say that loves a game, a random circumstance
Im not the type to leave that kind of thing to chance
You might sit back and wait, but Im taking off the gloves
Im gonna crack this case like a scientist of love
1, 2, 3!
If loves what we want, if loves what we need
Why cant we make love from suspicion and greed?
If loves what we want, if loves what we need
Why cant we make love?
Ive got no time to waste just waiting for the bus
This is the place, the space to get down and serious
School is in, the lab is open for research
I do declare that love is a walking, talking church
Ive got to quell the beast, be a credit to my sex
Ive got to give at least as much as I expect
Cant get no rest til I discover what I need
Gotta start somewhere, that why I believe, believe, believe
Believe the word, love science
Party down, love science
Thinking hard, love science
How to be a scientist of love
Place to place, love science
Hour to hour, love science
Cant hold back, love science
Got to be a scientist of love

[...] Read more

song performed by Todd Rundgren
Added by Lucian Velea
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Un-believable Situations

Un-believable situations,
Leave a lump in a throat.
And those,
Un-believable situations...
Can leave a weight on shoulders,
Whether one is young on older.
No matter who's brave or bold.

Stricken with heat or fever,
No matter who's brave or bold.
Those un-believable situations,
Can warm a heart...
Or turn it cold.

Few are prepared for what they can not see.
When surprised by situations.
Many choke up and can not breathe,
When confronted by situations...
Shocking and unbelieved.

Stricken with heat or fever,
No matter who's brave or bold.
Those un-believable situations,
Can warm a heart...
Or turn it cold.

Those un-believable situations,
Always stun the ones who disbelieve.
Those un-believable situations,
Come to bring some to their knees.

Those un-believable situations,
Always stun the ones who disbelieve.
Those un-believable situations,
Come to bring some to their knees.

Those un-believable situations,
Always stun the ones who disbelieve.
Those un-believable situations,
Come to bring some to their knees.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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All You Ever Needed

( you got me wrong, completely wrong
You got me wrong, completely wrong )
I hope youre happy where you are
Youve been heading there for some time
Itsnot like you to complain
But then its not like you imagined
Life has changed but you shouldnt do
Ill remain the same around you
Dont be blind, look where youre coming from
Its all you ever needed
( you got me wrong, completely wrong )
You ll find fault with me warning you
Advice you should have heeded
( you got me wrong, completely wrong )
( you got me wrong, completely wrong completely wrong )
Over time you can find a way
Stop looking out for some sign
Theres a place now where you belong
Just to make it right in your mind
Im just trying to make you see
Youre the only one you have to be
Dont be blind, look where youre coming from
Its all you ever needed
( you got me wrong, completely wrong )
You ll find fault with me warning you
Advice you should have heeded
( you got me wrong, completely wrong )
( you got me wrong, completely wrong completely wrong )
Life has changed but you shouldnt do
Ill remain the same around you
( you got me wrong, completely wrong completely wrong )
You ll find fault with me warning you
Advice you should have heeded
( you got me wrong, completely wrong )
Dont be blind, look where youre coming from
Its all you ever needed
( you got me wrong, completely wrong )
You ll find fault with me warning you
Advice you should have heeded
( you got me wrong, completely wrong )
( you got me wrong, completely wrong )
( you got me wrong, completely wrong ) ...

song performed by Olive
Added by Lucian Velea
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Contrived

Contrived.
Heightened to spark controversy.
And to keep a creation,
False from the start...
But given,
Undercover...
The breath of life to breathe!

Contrived.
Molded from a choice to cheat...
With a substance complete to tease,
And sell!
This done well...
The 'pitch' believed!

Contrived.
What one is given...
And kept from another,
As a dangled carrot one seeks...
But will not ever reach!
As the interest of a peace...
Sought!
Is quietly murdered.

Contrived.
A marketing masked to solicit the masses.
A task addressed to spread an unrest.
Quenching the thirst for war that is fed!
Killing the young,
And breaking hearts of all!
Pushing backs against the wall.
Caring less who stumbles or falls!
Yet...
Honoring that sacrifice.
Honoring the vanity...
To stand valiant,
Against any opposition.
And not dare stumble or crawl!

Contrived.
Reasons to deplete and demolish...
With polished colloquial approaches done.
Increasing a misery!
Decreasing the fantasies of deceptions kept!
Leaving those weeping with intentions met!
To deprive.
As hunger and squalid images seep.
Delighting the wicked and those who leech!

Contrived with lies...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Justified & Ancient

Ok man, take it away
Ummm-hmmm-hm
Whoah-nanananana
Hmmmmm mmmm
Ummm-hmmm-hm-yeah
Ummm-hmmm-hm-yeah
Ummm-hmmm-hm-yeah
Ummm-hmmmmmm
Theyre justified and theyre ancient
And they like to roam the land
Theyre justified and theyre ancient
I hope you understand
They dont want to upset the apple cart
And they dont want to cause any harm
But if you dont like what theyre going to do
You better not stop them cause theyre coming through
Theyre justified and theyre ancient
And they know what time is love
Theyre justified and theyre ancient
Did they come from up above?
Rockman hes just made of bricks
And king boy lost his screws
The jams dont need no master plan
To do whatever -- ever they can
Ummm-hmmm-hm
Whoah-nanananana, unh huh
All righhht, unh huh
Yeah
Theyre justified and theyre ancient
And they like to roam the land
Theyre justified and theyre ancient
I hope you understand
They dont want to upset the apple cart
And they dont want to cause any harm
But if you dont like what theyre going to do
You better not stop them cause theyre coming through
Theyre justified and theyre ancient
And they know what time is love
Theyre justified and theyre ancient
Did they come from up above?
Rockman hes just made of bricks
And king boy lost his screws
The jams dont need no master plan
To do whatever -- ever they can
Ummm-hmmm-hm
Whoah-nanananana, unh huh

song performed by KLF
Added by Lucian Velea
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Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Septimus

Incipit Liber Octavus

Que favet ad vicium vetus hec modo regula confert,
Nec novus e contra qui docet ordo placet.
Cecus amor dudum nondum sua lumina cepit,
Quo Venus impositum devia fallit iter.

------------------------------------ -----------------------------------------------
The myhti god, which unbegunne
Stant of himself and hath begunne
Alle othre thinges at his wille,
The hevene him liste to fulfille
Of alle joie, where as he
Sit inthronized in his See,
And hath hise Angles him to serve,
Suche as him liketh to preserve,
So that thei mowe noght forsueie:
Bot Lucifer he putte aweie,
With al the route apostazied
Of hem that ben to him allied,
Whiche out of hevene into the helle
From Angles into fendes felle;
Wher that ther is no joie of lyht,
Bot more derk than eny nyht
The peine schal ben endeles;
And yit of fyres natheles
Ther is plente, bot thei ben blake,
Wherof no syhte mai be take.
Thus whan the thinges ben befalle,
That Luciferes court was falle
Wher dedly Pride hem hath conveied,
Anon forthwith it was pourveied
Thurgh him which alle thinges may;
He made Adam the sexte day
In Paradis, and to his make
Him liketh Eve also to make,
And bad hem cresce and multiplie.
For of the mannes Progenie,
Which of the womman schal be bore,
The nombre of Angles which was lore,
Whan thei out fro the blisse felle,
He thoghte to restore, and felle
In hevene thilke holy place
Which stod tho voide upon his grace.
Bot as it is wel wiste and knowe,
Adam and Eve bot a throwe,
So as it scholde of hem betyde,
In Paradis at thilke tyde
Ne duelten, and the cause why,
Write in the bok of Genesi,

[...] Read more

poem by John Gower
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!

Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sigismond And Guiscardo. From Boccace

While Norman Tancred in Salerno reigned,
The title of a gracious Prince he gained;
Till turned a tyrant in his latter days,
He lost the lustre of his former praise,
And from the bright meridian where he stood
Descending dipped his hands in lovers' blood.

This Prince, of Fortune's favour long possessed,
Yet was with one fair daughter only blessed;
And blessed he might have been with her alone,
But oh! how much more happy had he none!
She was his care, his hope, and his delight,
Most in his thought, and ever in his sight:
Next, nay beyond his life, he held her dear;
She lived by him, and now he lived in her.
For this, when ripe for marriage, he delayed
Her nuptial bands, and kept her long a maid,
As envying any else should share a part
Of what was his, and claiming all her heart.
At length, as public decency required,
And all his vassals eagerly desired,
With mind averse, he rather underwent
His people's will than gave his own consent.
So was she torn, as from a lover's side,
And made, almost in his despite, a bride.

Short were her marriage joys; for in the prime
Of youth, her lord expired before his time;
And to her father's court in little space
Restored anew, she held a higher place;
More loved, and more exalted into grace.
This Princess, fresh and young, and fair and wise,
The worshipped idol of her father's eyes,
Did all her sex in every grace exceed,
And had more wit beside than women need.

Youth, health, and ease, and most an amorous mind,
To second nuptials had her thoughts inclined;
And former joys had left a secret string behind.
But, prodigal in every other grant,
Her sire left unsupplied her only want,
And she, betwixt her modesty and pride,
Her wishes, which she could not help, would hide.

Resolved at last to lose no longer time,
And yet to please her self without a crime,
She cast her eyes around the court, to find
A worthy subject suiting to her mind,
To him in holy nuptials to be tied,
A seeming widow, and a secret bride.

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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Canto the First

I
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one;
Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,
I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—
We all have seen him, in the pantomime,
Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time.

II
Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke,
Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,
Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,
And fill'd their sign posts then, like Wellesley now;
Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk,
Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of that sow:
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier
Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.

III
Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette,
Were French, and famous people, as we know:
And there were others, scarce forgotten yet,
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,
With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,
But not at all adapted to my rhymes.

IV
Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,
And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd;
There's no more to be said of Trafalgar,
'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd;
Because the army's grown more popular,
At which the naval people are concern'd;
Besides, the prince is all for the land-service,
Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.

V
Brave men were living before Agamemnon
And since, exceeding valorous and sage,
A good deal like him too, though quite the same none;
But then they shone not on the poet's page,
And so have been forgotten:—I condemn none,
But can't find any in the present age
Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one);
So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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Political World

We live in a political world
Where love dont have any place
Were living in times where men commit crimes
And crime dont have a face
We live in a political world
Icicles hangin down
Wedding bells ring and angels sing
And clouds cover up the ground
We live in a political world
Wisdom is thrown into jail
It rots in a cell misguided as hell
Leaving no one to pick up the trail
We live in a political world
Where mercy walks the plank
Life is in mirrors, death disappears
Up the steps into the nearest bank
We live in a political world
Courage is a thing of the past
Houses are haunted, children arent wanted
Your next day could be your last
We live in a political world
The one we can see and feel
But theres no one to check, its all a stacked deck
We all know for sure that its real
We live in a political world
The cities are a lonesome fear
Little by little, you turn in the middle
Youre never sure why youre here
We live in a political world
Under the microscope
You could travel anywhere and hang yourself there
Youve always got more than enough rope
We live in a political world
Turning and a-thrashing about
As soon as youre awake youre trained to take
What looks like the easy way out
We live in a political world
Where peace is not welcome at all
Its turned away from the door to wander some more
Or put up against the wall
We live in a political world
Everythings hers and his
Climb into the flame and shout gods name
But youre not even sure what it is

song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Political Scientist

He is drinking water from the faucet from the river
From the tributary it comes through rusted pipes
Outside his window he sees the water that's supposed to be clean
By the chemicals polluted by the candy factory lines
Someplace on the edge of town
Someplace on the edge of town
Is where they live --
Political scientists
So now she is crawling on her hands and her knees
She is dirtying her jeans choking on her own perfume
With a pen she writes below the sink in someone's restaurant
This place is inconvenient for my name
She forgets to write it anyway
She forgets to write it anyway
The government supplies the cocaine
Political scientists
There's no guarantees
There's no guarantees
There's no guarantees
Banging hard upon a crooked drum
She feels them tearing down Salvation Army houses back in Michigan
Her husband's divorced but he treats her that way of course
Because he needs her just like he needs medicine
She forgets to write him anyway
She forgets to write him anyway
What's red and white and nearly over
Political scientist
Political scientist
Political scientist
There's no guarantees
There's no guarantees
There's no guarantees

song performed by Ryan Adams
Added by Lucian Velea
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Children of Our Age

We are children of our age,
it's a political age.

All day long, all through the night,
all affairs--yours, ours, theirs--
are political affairs.

Whether you like it or not,
your genes have a political past,
your skin, a political cast,
your eyes, a political slant.

Whatever you say reverberates,
whatever you don't say speaks for itself.
So either way you're talking politics.

Even when you take to the woods,
you're taking political steps
on political grounds.

Apolitical poems are also political,
and above us shines a moon
no longer purely lunar.
To be or not to be, that is the question.
And though it troubles the digestion
it's a question, as always, of politics.

To acquire a political meaning
you don't even have to be human.
Raw material will do,
or protein feed, or crude oil,

or a conference table whose shape
was quarreled over for months;
Should we arbitrate life and death
at a round table or a square one?

Meanwhile, people perished,
animals died,
houses burned,
and the fields ran wild
just as in times immemorial
and less political.

poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Confessio Amantis. Prologus

Torpor, ebes sensus, scola parua labor minimusque
Causant quo minimus ipse minora canam:
Qua tamen Engisti lingua canit Insula Bruti
Anglica Carmente metra iuuante loquar.
Ossibus ergo carens que conterit ossa loquelis
Absit, et interpres stet procul oro malus.

Of hem that writen ous tofore
The bokes duelle, and we therfore
Ben tawht of that was write tho:
Forthi good is that we also
In oure tyme among ous hiere
Do wryte of newe som matiere,
Essampled of these olde wyse
So that it myhte in such a wyse,
Whan we ben dede and elleswhere,
Beleve to the worldes eere
In tyme comende after this.
Bot for men sein, and soth it is,
That who that al of wisdom writ
It dulleth ofte a mannes wit
To him that schal it aldai rede,
For thilke cause, if that ye rede,
I wolde go the middel weie
And wryte a bok betwen the tweie,
Somwhat of lust, somewhat of lore,
That of the lasse or of the more
Som man mai lyke of that I wryte:
And for that fewe men endite
In oure englissh, I thenke make
A bok for Engelondes sake,
The yer sextenthe of kyng Richard.
What schal befalle hierafterward
God wot, for now upon this tyde
Men se the world on every syde
In sondry wyse so diversed,
That it welnyh stant al reversed,
As forto speke of tyme ago.
The cause whi it changeth so
It needeth nought to specifie,
The thing so open is at ije
That every man it mai beholde:
And natheles be daies olde,
Whan that the bokes weren levere,
Wrytinge was beloved evere
Of hem that weren vertuous;
For hier in erthe amonges ous,
If noman write hou that it stode,
The pris of hem that weren goode

[...] Read more

poem by John Gower
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Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Quintus

Incipit Liber Sextus

Est gula, que nostrum maculavit prima parentem
Ex vetito pomo, quo dolet omnis homo
Hec agit, ut corpus anime contraria spirat,
Quo caro fit crassa, spiritus atque macer.
Intus et exterius si que virtutis habentur,
Potibus ebrietas conviciata ruit.
Mersa sopore labis, que Bachus inebriat hospes,
Indignata Venus oscula raro premit.

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The grete Senne original,
Which every man in general
Upon his berthe hath envenymed,
In Paradis it was mystymed:
Whan Adam of thilke Appel bot,
His swete morscel was to hot,
Which dedly made the mankinde.
And in the bokes as I finde,
This vice, which so out of rule
Hath sette ous alle, is cleped Gule;
Of which the branches ben so grete,
That of hem alle I wol noght trete,
Bot only as touchende of tuo
I thenke speke and of no mo;
Wherof the ferste is Dronkeschipe,
Which berth the cuppe felaschipe.
Ful many a wonder doth this vice,
He can make of a wisman nyce,
And of a fool, that him schal seme
That he can al the lawe deme,
And yiven every juggement
Which longeth to the firmament
Bothe of the sterre and of the mone;
And thus he makth a gret clerk sone
Of him that is a lewed man.
Ther is nothing which he ne can,
Whil he hath Dronkeschipe on honde,
He knowth the See, he knowth the stronde,
He is a noble man of armes,
And yit no strengthe is in his armes:
Ther he was strong ynouh tofore,
With Dronkeschipe it is forlore,
And al is changed his astat,
And wext anon so fieble and mat,
That he mai nouther go ne come,
Bot al togedre him is benome
The pouer bothe of hond and fot,

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poem by John Gower
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Third Book

'TO-DAY thou girdest up thy loins thyself,
And goest where thou wouldest: presently
Others shall gird thee,' said the Lord, 'to go
Where thou would'st not.' He spoke to Peter thus,
To signify the death which he should die
When crucified head downwards.
If He spoke
To Peter then, He speaks to us the same;
The word suits many different martyrdoms,
And signifies a multiform of death,
Although we scarcely die apostles, we,
And have mislaid the keys of heaven and earth.

For tis not in mere death that men die most;
And, after our first girding of the loins
In youth's fine linen and fair broidery,
To run up hill and meet the rising sun,
We are apt to sit tired, patient as a fool,
While others gird us with the violent bands
Of social figments, feints, and formalisms,
Reversing our straight nature, lifting up
Our base needs, keeping down our lofty thoughts,
Head downward on the cross-sticks of the world.
Yet He can pluck us from the shameful cross.
God, set our feet low and our forehead high,
And show us how a man was made to walk!

Leave the lamp, Susan, and go up to bed.
The room does very well; I have to write
Beyond the stroke of midnight. Get away;
Your steps, for ever buzzing in the room,
Tease me like gnats. Ah, letters! throw them down
At once, as I must have them, to be sure,
Whether I bid you never bring me such
At such an hour, or bid you. No excuse.
You choose to bring them, as I choose perhaps
To throw them in the fire. Now, get to bed,
And dream, if possible, I am not cross.

Why what a pettish, petty thing I grow,–
A mere, mere woman,–a mere flaccid nerve,-
A kerchief left out all night in the rain,
Turned soft so,–overtasked and overstrained
And overlived in this close London life!
And yet I should be stronger.
Never burn
Your letters, poor Aurora! for they stare
With red seals from the table, saying each,
'Here's something that you know not.' Out alas,
'Tis scarcely that the world's more good and wise

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poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
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Heather's Lesson

Survive, thrive in difficult situations.
Glow like heather and smile with glory.
Serving deserving, deserve admiration
Survive, thrive in difficult situations.

Exist to help others in habitation
and be protective like heather's story,
Survive, thrive in difficult situations.
Glow your face and smile with glory.

***
Survive, thrive in difficult situations,
Dare to take care of the creatures.
Being selfless give help to everyone;
Survive, thrive in difficult situations.

Tells Heather: serving get admiration.
Smile, while spreading color and flavor;
Survive, thrive in difficult situations,
Dare to take care of the creatures

poem by S.D. Tiwari
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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

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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