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Don't complain because you don't have. Enjoy what you've got.

quote by H. Stanley Judd
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wine & Women

Wine and women and song will only make me sad
Love and kisses and hugs , the things I never had
If this should end , I dont mind
If this should end , I will find
What shall I do (what shall I do )
What shall I do (what shall I do )
Cars and buses and trams make alot of noise
All my women have gone out with other boys
If this should end , I dont mind
If this should end, I will find
I wont complain (I wont complain)
I feel no pain (I feel no pain )
(break)
Ooh..
If this should end , I dont mind
If this should end , I will find
I wont complain (I wont complain)
I feel no pain (I feel no pain )
Wine and women and song will only make me sad
Love and kisses and hugs the thing I never had
If this should end , I dont mind
If this should end, I will find
I wont complain (I wont complain)
I feel no pain ( I feel no pain)
I wont complain .. cry
Ooh....

song performed by Bee Gees
Added by Lucian Velea
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Must I Complain, O God, I Pray?

When you made me by love thine,
And called me sweetly by my name,
And wrote it in your palm divine,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?

When you chose me for job fine,
And gave me breath in special way,
And made me walk on earth, ravine,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?

When you led me through hill, vale,
And desert, plain, seasons umptine,
And kept me safe through flood and hale,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?

When you watched o'er me night, day,
And fed, clothed, sheltered me all life,
And held me by right hand en way,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?

When you suffered, died on cross,
And resurrected on third day,
And wait for me with Father Boss,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?

When you are Almighty God,
And love to see my soul back pure,
And fair in judgment, just in rod,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
Must I complain, O God, I pray?

Fondly dedicated to my dear elder sister,
Miss. Noeline Mary Clemencia BSc., B.T.,
On her birthday today
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-02-'12

poem by John Celes
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Metamorphoses: Book The Ninth

Theseus requests the God to tell his woes,
Whence his maim'd brow, and whence his groans arose
Whence thus the Calydonian stream reply'd,
With twining reeds his careless tresses ty'd:
Ungrateful is the tale; for who can bear,
When conquer'd, to rehearse the shameful war?
Yet I'll the melancholy story trace;
So great a conqu'ror softens the disgrace:
Nor was it still so mean the prize to yield,
As great, and glorious to dispute the field.
The Story of Perhaps you've heard of Deianira's name,
Achelous and For all the country spoke her beauty's fame.
Hercules Long was the nymph by num'rous suitors woo'd,
Each with address his envy'd hopes pursu'd:
I joyn'd the loving band; to gain the fair,
Reveal'd my passion to her father's ear.
Their vain pretensions all the rest resign,
Alcides only strove to equal mine;
He boasts his birth from Jove, recounts his spoils,
His step-dame's hate subdu'd, and finish'd toils.
Can mortals then (said I), with Gods compare?
Behold a God; mine is the watry care:
Through your wide realms I take my mazy way,
Branch into streams, and o'er the region stray:
No foreign guest your daughter's charms adores,
But one who rises in your native shores.
Let not his punishment your pity move;
Is Juno's hate an argument for love?
Though you your life from fair Alcmena drew,
Jove's a feign'd father, or by fraud a true.
Chuse then; confess thy mother's honour lost,
Or thy descent from Jove no longer boast.
While thus I spoke, he look'd with stern disdain,
Nor could the sallies of his wrath restrain,
Which thus break forth. This arm decides our right;
Vanquish in words, be mine the prize in fight.
Bold he rush'd on. My honour to maintain,
I fling my verdant garments on the plain,
My arms stretch forth, my pliant limbs prepare,
And with bent hands expect the furious war.
O'er my sleek skin now gather'd dust he throws,
And yellow sand his mighty muscles strows.
Oft he my neck, and nimble legs assails,
He seems to grasp me, but as often fails.
Each part he now invades with eager hand;
Safe in my bulk, immoveable I stand.
So when loud storms break high, and foam and roar
Against some mole that stretches from the shore;
The firm foundation lasting tempests braves,
Defies the warring winds, and driving waves.

[...] Read more

poem by Ovid
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Bury Me Where I Fall

Comr brush away these fists and i will tell you
Everything
I hope you know how long I'm lacking
So carve my name and take me to the strength udner it all
Then bury me where I fall
Push and Pull like sex machines, like sex machines
Push and pull like sex machines, like sex machines.
Qustioning if I should even be here
I won't make that same mistake
And taking to bed all these things that I hate
I will complain, I will complain
A bleeding light has made us all just want to wash away
and best believe I want it blinding
Under it all I bacl out holes and glorify disguise
still draining me from all this strife
Push and pull like sex machines, like sex machines
Push and pull like sex machines, like sex machines
Questioning if I should even be here
I won't make that same mistake
And taking to bed all these things that I hate
I will complain, I will complain
Stare at the sun
Staring at the sun...
Questioning if I should even be here
I won't make that same mistake
And taking to bed all these things that I hate
I will complain, I will complain
...Bury me where I fall.

song performed by 36 Crazyfists
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jefferson Aero Plane

If it hurts,
Kiss it better
You wear skirts,
I write nice letters
Never said nothing with flowers
Though we always talked for hours
And it seems to get much colder
When you cry on your own shoulder
And we know the show
Must go on
Guess I know
I guess Ill throw on
Some jefferson airplane
Im trapped and I am enclosed
But I wont complain
Ill open all the windows
Jefferson airplane
Im trapped and I am enclosed
But I wont complain
Ill open all the windows
Cause when its colder
I feel much better
When I cry on my own shoulder
Ill just throw on a sweater and go
And Ill go to undergo a change of heart, a change of clothes
And when Im home, I think Ill go eat cereal and stare out the window
Ill make the calls
You cover your ears
Niagra falls
Still flows on new years
I will save
Your plunging neck-line
Kiss your face
You try to deck mine
If I behave its going to cost him
Stop the rave in downtown boston
And we know the show
Must go on
Guess I know
I guess Ill throw on
Some jefferson airplane
Im trapped and I am enclosed
But I wont complain
Ill open all the windows
Jefferson airplane
Im trapped and I am enclosed
But I wont complain
Ill open all the windows
Cause when its colder
I feel much better

[...] Read more

song performed by Relient K
Added by Lucian Velea
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We Complain

We complain
When in other countries people are in pain
We complain
And on the other side, conditions are inhumane
We complain
Many people want to ascertain

I don't eat cheese
While in other countries people die of disease
I don't want to clean my room
While many people starve just wanting food to consume
My mom just gave me 50 dollars and thats not enough
In different places people can't even pay for rent; life is tough

We complain
Many people, their life they can't sustain
Parents their kids they can't maintain
On Christmas people can't even buy a candy cane
People feeling like they're drowning in acid rain
And we complain

People out there who can't even afford to watch an ad campaign
People hiding on the streets because of shame
Because themselves are the ones to blame
Many things they detain
People out there who wish they were slain
People who wear the same clothes with the same little stain

People sleeping out in the rain
People who have given up and just start to cut their vein
When some people work and get their paycheck, they feel nothing they gain
Without insurance they gotta be careful because there's nothing they can sprain
Many people like in Africa have nothing to eat, not even a little grain...
And we complain

poem by Bianca Edwards
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A Beauty of Love!

I enjoy beauty of star studded night sky;
I enjoy beauty of harmonious waves of sea;
I enjoy beauty of peaceful living of people;
I enjoy beauty of natural poems of poets!

Beauty of human life I enjoy in all forms;
Beauty of fun loving children I enjoy often;
Beauty of smiling flowers I enjoy in garden;
Beauty of art work I enjoy in all forms ever!

World is full of beauty Nature bestows to all;
World is paradise due to love and beauty ever;
World is the abode of man's cultural refinement;
World is the spring board to heaven at the end!

Beauty of love is eternal for all to enjoy in life
Evolving animal into man and man into divine!

poem by Ramesh T A
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The Castle Of Indolence

The castle hight of Indolence,
And its false luxury;
Where for a little time, alas!
We lived right jollily.

O mortal man, who livest here by toil,
Do not complain of this thy hard estate;
That like an emmet thou must ever moil,
Is a sad sentence of an ancient date:
And, certes, there is for it reason great;
For, though sometimes it makes thee weep and wail,
And curse thy star, and early drudge and late;
Withouten that would come a heavier bale,
Loose life, unruly passions, and diseases pale.
In lowly dale, fast by a river's side,
With woody hill o'er hill encompass'd round,
A most enchanting wizard did abide,
Than whom a fiend more fell is no where found.
It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground;
And there a season atween June and May,
Half prankt with spring, with summer half imbrown'd,
A listless climate made, where, sooth to say,
No living wight could work, ne cared even for play.
Was nought around but images of rest:
Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between;
And flowery beds that slumbrous influence kest,
From poppies breathed; and beds of pleasant green,
Where never yet was creeping creature seen.
Meantime, unnumber'd glittering streamlets play'd,
And hurled every where their waters sheen;
That, as they bicker'd through the sunny glade,
Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made.
Join'd to the prattle of the purling rills
Were heard the lowing herds along the vale,
And flocks loud bleating from the distant hills,
And vacant shepherds piping in the dale:
And, now and then, sweet Philomel would wail,
Or stock-doves plain amid the forest deep,
That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale;
And still a coil the grasshopper did keep;
Yet all these sounds yblent inclined all to sleep.
Full in the passage of the vale, above,
A sable, silent, solemn forest stood;
Where nought but shadowy forms was seen to move,
As Idless fancied in her dreaming mood:
And up the hills, on either side, a wood
Of blackening pines, aye waving to and fro,
Sent forth a sleepy horror through the blood;
And where this valley winded out, below,
The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow.

[...] Read more

poem by James Thomson
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Break Free! - Have a Ball!

Time to break free, one's cup of tea may not be to all taste,
past history's stale news, let be, haste, challenge chased, no waste!
Song bird of time migrates, sublime rewarding melody,
wide wings unfurl, from spiral twirl, soar to true rhapsody.

Time to escape, dropp nightshade drape, spring sprightly sings fresh air,
shed strings, red tape of every shape, fresh future fair prepare.
Shift key, click mouse, write waltz like Strauss, carouse in harmony,
drown frowns, don't grouse laze louse round house, spurn tale_spin gravity.

Discard hard times, from prose to rhymes switch life that pain shrugs off,
see light, delight quite free from fright, breathe out and fight rough cough!
Ignore moods poor, pain reign's downpour, sore thumb, fools dumb who bore,
far more expect, hope's scope elect, reject despond's dark core!

Time to rebound, life’s boat aground goodbye waves tidal waves,
from hurts that hound heart thought strung, bound, a clear approach now braves
life’s slings and arrows, narrow minds, discovers empathy,
that brings marshmallows, wide wings hallows, sheds self-sympathy.

From sleepy head, depressed in bed, leap up, cheered frame of mind,
misfortune's sped away, ahead, lies joy; leave lies behind.
Dread, pain vain bled, is shed instead success unbolts faults’ door,
so have a ball, reverse free fall, displace dark doubts with SURE!

Don't hedge your bets, glad sad regrets turns topsy-turvy soon,
don't sit on fence in self defence, self-confidence is boon.
Let inner fire inspire desire, suspicions set at rest,
all you require, adore, admire, won't cloy, - enjoy with zest.

From vain complain move on again, see sea’s brimfull of fish,
go take your pick as lips you lick so wickedly delish.
Look sharp! Don't carp, distress or mess up opportunities
chance offers all, go have a ball, refreshed prioritease!

If once distraught in heart or thought, trust must fuss dust displace,
move on to more - unseen before - let better bad replace.
From inner trial advance and smile, past tears, fears fast forgot,
prick cloudy pall, go have a ball and call each shot!

Hope's heart's at ease when spirit frees harp's soul from sharks, sharp spears,
DO as YOU please and by degrees all darkness disappears,
bread butters fly, sun spo[r]ts in sky, relearn to laugh a lot,
keep on the ball, leap each grey wall – bold, spurning blow cold, hot!

Link one to one, new tale begun, soon shadow shades dissolve,
don’t stumble, run! don’t cry, have fun! hands on luck’s clock revolve.
mosquito bite quite fly-by-night seems past controversy
compared to light solutions bright that crush adversity.

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Solomon on the Vanity of the World, A Poem. In Three Books. - Pleasure. Book II.

The Argument

Solomon, again seeking happiness, inquires if wealth and greatness can produce it: begins with the magnificence of gardens and buildings; the luxury of music and feasting; and proceeds to the hopes and desires of love. In two episodes are shown the follies and troubles of that passion. Solomon, still disappointed, falls under the temptations of libertinism and idolatry; recovers his thought; reasons aright; and concludes that, as to the pursuit of pleasure and sensual delight, All Is Vanity and Vexation of Spirit.

Try then, O man, the moments to deceive
That from the womb attend thee to the grave:
For wearied Nature find some apter scheme;
Health be thy hope, and pleasure be thy theme;
From the perplexing and unequal ways
Where Study brings thee from the endless maze
Which Doubt persuades o run, forewarn'd, recede
To the gay field, and flowery path, that lead
To jocund mirth, soft joy, and careless ease:
Forsake what my instruct for what may please:
Essay amusing art and proud expense,
And make thy reason subject to thy sense.

I communed thus: the power of wealth I tried,
And all the various luxe of costly pride;
Artists and plans relieved my solemn hours:
I founded palaces and planted bowers,
Birds, fishes, beasts, of exotic kind
I to the limits of my court confined,
To trees transferr'd I gave a second birth,
And bade a foreign shade grace Judah's earth.
Fish-ponds were made where former forests grew
And hills were levell'd to extend the view.
Rivers, diverted from their native course,
And bound with chains of artificial force,
From large cascades in pleasing tumult roll'd,
Or rose through figured stone or breathing gold.
From furthest Africa's tormented womb
The marble brought, erects the spacious dome,
Or forms the pillars' long-extended rows,
On which the planted grove and pensile garden grows.

The workmen here obey the master's call,
To gild the turret and to paint the wall;
To mark the pavement there with various stone,
And on the jasper steps to rear the throne:
The spreading cedar, that an age had stood,
Supreme of trees, and mistress of the wood,
Cut down and carved, my shining roof adorns,
And Lebanon his ruin'd honour mourns.

A thousand artists show their cunning powers
To raise the wonders of the ivory towers:
A thousand maidens ply the purple loom

[...] Read more

poem by Matthew Prior
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Me And Nature

I love to enjoy the wind that
rule the shore of the ocean,
i love to enjoy the wild sun
of Africa and the expatacular
snow of of europe,
i love to enjoy the beauty and
the fragrance of flower that
grace the soil of Africa (Europe,
America) .

I love to enjoy the divine beauty
of the sky at nite when the sun
and the stars proof their worth,
i love to enjoy the rain so when
it pour i dance my way through
it.

I love to enjoy the green grass so
when am within them i feel them
with my hands
i love to enjoy the sweet melodies
of the brids, the sound of the
flute and that of the drum.
I love to enjoy nature..

poem by Enyinwa Okechukwu Enyinwa
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Complain

I can sing about love lost
But what if there's no love to lose?
If everyday I saw sunshine
And it never rained the blues
If my fears were tears
I wonder would they fall
If a smile could stretch a mile
Even if I had no money at all
But I'm willin' to take
Whatever life brings
Cause you're the only one
Who seems to know me

And even if the bad times call
If I had you back
I wouldn't complain at all

I can dream about tommorrow
If it's still today
I'd wear down my knees every night
Even if I had no hands to pray
If my friends were dead and gone
Leavin' me here alone
Could I depend on some spirit
To ease me when my soul's on its own
If my eyes were blind
And I couldn't feel at all to see
Nothin' in this world but you complete me

And even if the bad times call
If I had you back
I wouldn't complain at all

Come back to me
If you just wanna hang out with the boys
I wouldn't complain
I wouldn't make a fuss
No not a noise
I wouldn't complain
Leave your socks on the dresser
And not in the drawer
I wouldn't complain
Just as well if you wanna watch your favorite sport

song performed by Tweet from Southern Hummingbird
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pretty Good

I got a friend in fremont, he sells used cars, ya know.
Well, he calls me up twice a year
Just ask me howd it go
Pretty good, not bad, I cant complain
Actually everything is just about the same
I met a girl from venus, and her insides were lined in gold
Well, she did what she did said how was it, kid?
She was politely told
Pretty good, not bad, I cant complain
But actually everything is just about the same.
Moonlight makes me dizzy
Sunlight makes me clean
Your light is the sweetest thing
That this boy has ever seen.
Molly went to arkansas, she got raped by dobbins dog
Well, she was doing good till she went in the woods
And got pinned up against a log
Pretty good, not bad, she cant complain
Cause actually all them dogs is just about the same
Moonlight makes me dizzy
Sunlight makes me clean
Your light is the sweetest thing
That this boy has ever seen.
Instrumental:
I heard allah and buddha were singing at the saviors feast
And up the sky and arabian rabbi
Fed quaker oats to a priest.
Pretty good, not bad, they cant complain
Cause actually all them gods is just about the same
Pretty good, not bad, I cant complain
Cause actually everything is just about the same

song performed by John Prine
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mamunia

Mamunia mamunia mamunia
Oh oh oh
Mamunia mamunia oh oh oh oh
The rain comes falling from the sky,
To fill the stream that fills the sea
And thats where life began for you and me
So the next time you see rain it aint bad,
Dont complain it rains for you,
The next time you see l.a. rainclouds,
Dont complain it rains for you and me
Mamunia...
It might have been a bright blue day
But rainclouds had to come this way
Theyre watering everything that they can see.
A seed is waiting in the earth
For rain to come and give him free,
So the next time you see l.a. rainclouds
Dont complain, it rains for you.
So lay down your umbrellas
Strip off your plastic macs.
Youve never felt the rain my friend,
Till youve felt it running down your back
So the next time you see rain, it aint bad
Dont complain, it rains for you.
The next time you see l.a. rainclouds
Dont complain it rains for you and me.
Mamunia...

song performed by Paul McCartney
Added by Lucian Velea
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We Love To Moan!

As a nation, us British really do love to have a good old moan.
We complain about anything and everything in a really grumpy tone.

We hate it when shop assistants couldn’t care less and are really rude,
Or when, in a restaurant, we have to wait far too long for our food.
Many people complain about their neighbours making too much noise.
They also hate their own homes are constantly littered with the kids toys.

It’s so frustrating when your internet connection is way too slow,
And when automated phone systems, almost make your temper blow.
People really hate to be caught up in lengthy, slow moving traffic queues
And when they have an almighty hangover, as a result of too much booze.

We hate it when our bus, to get to work, is, yet again, running late,
And, when charity workers in the High Street, for money, lie in wait.
It’s annoying when we have to work when the weather is fair,
And when it rains all day, when we’re on holiday and not there.

One of our favourite things to moan about is the state of our health,
And, since we’re in the middle of a recession, the state of our wealth.
We complain when we are feeling bogged down by a heavy workload,
And, when, at the end of the day, our body goes into tiredness mode.

We moan that there’s never anything decent on TV at night,
And when our headache reaches its very highest height.
It’s annoying if you hear a knock at the door and you run downstairs,
In your dressing gown, only to find a uninvited cold caller stood there.

We really hate it when another driver parks in our space,
And, when we’re going on a date and we get spots on our face.
We moan when someone leaves the loo seat up,
And when someone else uses our favourite cup.

We moan when prices in the shops seem way too high,
And we have to cut down on the treats we usually buy.
It’s annoying when someone leaves the towel hanging askew,
And when someone keeps leaving the top off the toothpaste too.

It’s annoying when you’ve just washed muddy footprints off the floor,
And when some walks across it in their boots, leaving you loads more.
It’s horrible when your computer crashes and you lose three hours work,
And when people cough and don’t cover their mouths, so in the air germs lurk.

It’s frustrating when you’re trying to find the end of the Sellotape,
And when people eat their food noisily, and with their mouth agape.
We get tons of pointless junk mail dropping through our doors,
And endless spam email on computers is also a really big bore.

We get angry when, at the airport, there are delays to our flights,
And when on the roads, we encounter ‘road rage’ and people fight.

[...] Read more

poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Parish Register - Part III: Burials

THERE was, 'tis said, and I believe, a time
When humble Christians died with views sublime;
When all were ready for their faith to bleed,
But few to write or wrangle for their creed;
When lively Faith upheld the sinking heart,
And friends, assured to meet, prepared to part;
When Love felt hope, when Sorrow grew serene,
And all was comfort in the death-bed scene.
Alas! when now the gloomy king they wait,
'Tis weakness yielding to resistless fate;
Like wretched men upon the ocean cast,
They labour hard and struggle to the last;
'Hope against hope,' and wildly gaze around
In search of help that never shall be found:
Nor, till the last strong billow stops the breath,
Will they believe them in the jaws of Death!
When these my Records I reflecting read,
And find what ills these numerous births succeed;
What powerful griefs these nuptial ties attend;
With what regret these painful journeys end;
When from the cradle to the grave I look,
Mine I conceive a melancholy book.
Where now is perfect resignation seen?
Alas! it is not on the village-green: -
I've seldom known, though I have often read,
Of happy peasants on their dying-bed;
Whose looks proclaimed that sunshine of the breast,
That more than hope, that Heaven itself express'd.
What I behold are feverish fits of strife,
'Twixt fears of dying and desire of life:
Those earthly hopes, that to the last endure;
Those fears, that hopes superior fail to cure;
At best a sad submission to the doom,
Which, turning from the danger, lets it come.
Sick lies the man, bewilder'd, lost, afraid,
His spirits vanquish'd, and his strength decay'd;
No hope the friend, the nurse, the doctor lend -
'Call then a priest, and fit him for his end.'
A priest is call'd; 'tis now, alas! too late,
Death enters with him at the cottage-gate;
Or time allow'd--he goes, assured to find
The self-commending, all-confiding mind;
And sighs to hear, what we may justly call
Death's common-place, the train of thought in all.
'True I'm a sinner,' feebly he begins,
'But trust in Mercy to forgive my sins:'
(Such cool confession no past crimes excite!
Such claim on Mercy seems the sinner's right!)
'I know mankind are frail, that God is just,
And pardons those who in his Mercy trust;

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Enjoy The Moment

Enjoy the sound of water rushing down

enjoy the lighting hitting the ground.

Enjoy the lighting sparks that fill the air

enjoy the birds flying everywhere.

Enjoy the baby's coos

enjoy the laughter and the blues.

Enjoy your pain if you have some

it is there for you to awaken.

Written by Christina Sunrise on August 31,2012

poem by Christina Sunrise
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Enjoy, be comfortable and celebrate each moment

Each moment is fleeting
No moment stays on
Irrespective of your having
Enjoyed it or otherwise
Been in comfort with it or otherwise or
Celebrated it or otherwise
Each moment is fleeting

It is your normal desire
To hold on to each moment
And to consciously enjoy it
Allowing the next moment to come in
At your will

You will enjoy, be comfortable and celebrate
Each moment of yours by
Non-emotionally acting upon
Issues of the moment
With your best of skills so that
You are out of the issues effectively
And relieved of the same once and for all

You will enjoy, be comfortable and celebrate
Each moment of yours by
Helping others in your possible ways
So that they can help themselves
And by sharing your resources
To the possible extent with those less resourceful
So that they can build up their own resources
And become self-reliant

You will enjoy, be comfortable and celebrate
Each moment of yours by
Involving yourselves in activities
That will create and pave way
For newer strengths in you
To broaden your resource-base
So that you will await new challenges of time
With a better vigour and wider knowledge

You will enjoy, be comfortable and celebrate
Each moment of yours by
Being creative, innovative and by
Exploring your inner potential
In artful and soul soothing initiatives
So that you are always alive
To the demands of the situation
This will help you relieved of
The reminiscences of the painful past
And the dreams of the non-existent future

[...] Read more

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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We Just Enjoy

A plough-man seeds to make our appetite demolish,
but we just enjoy.
A soldier devotes his life,
and spends all his momentous periods to save our life.
Do you know, how much he has grief?
But, we just enjoy.
A clergyman stays in a hall of sanctification,
and spends more time chanting hymns.
He just wants to see us delighted.
He wants to make us spirited.
He helps to cross the barrier of hell,
but we just enjoy.
A good inventor wastes a part of life
for to create a mysterious technique,
but we just enjoy.
A physician saves a life, and
tries to make an embodiment.
We get a change (a new life) ,
but we just enjoy.
A sophisticated well doer of society
dedicates his thoughts of integrity.
We only leave him a comment for recommendation as a price,
and we just enjoy.
So, all those are no doubt great.,
but we just enjoy………
We should indulge ourselves to employ (to assist them) .

poem by Bibhakar Dutta
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The Task: Book III. -- The Garden

As one who, long in thickets and in brakes
Entangled, winds now this way and now that
His devious course uncertain, seeking home;
Or, having long in miry ways been foil’d,
And sore discomfited, from slough to slough
Plunging, and half despairing of escape;
If chance at length he finds a greensward smooth
And faithful to the foot, his spirits rise,
He chirrups brisk his ear-erecting steed,
And winds his way with pleasure and with ease:
So I, designing other themes, and call’d
To adorn the Sofa with eulogium due,
To tell its slumbers, and to paint its dreams,
Have rambled wide. In country, city, seat
Of academic fame (howe’er deserved),
Long held, and scarcely disengaged at last.
But now with pleasant pace a cleanlier road
I mean to tread. I feel myself at large,
Courageous, and refresh’d for future toil,
If toil awaits me, or if dangers new.

Since pulpits fail, and sounding boards reflect
Most part an empty ineffectual sound,
What chance that I, to fame so little known,
Nor conversant with men or manners much,
Should speak to purpose, or with better hope
Crack the satiric thong? ‘Twere wiser far
For me, enamour’d of sequester’d scenes,
And charm’d with rural beauty, to repose,
Where chance may throw me, beneath elm or vine,
My languid limbs, when summer sears the plains;
Or, when rough winter rages, on the soft
And shelter’d Sofa, while the nitrous air
Feeds a blue flame, and makes a cheerful hearth;
There, undisturb’d by Folly, and apprised
How great the danger of disturbing her,
To muse in silence, or at least confine
Remarks that gall so many to the few,
My partners in retreat. Disgust conceal’d
Is ofttimes proof of wisdom, when the fault
Is obstinate, and cure beyond our reach.

Domestic Happiness, thou only bliss
Of Paradise that has survived the fall!
Though few now taste thee unimpair’d and pure,
Or tasting long enjoy thee! too infirm,
Or too incautious, to preserve thy sweets
Unmix’d with drops of bitter, which neglect
Or temper sheds into thy crystal cup;
Thou art the nurse of Virtue, in thine arms

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
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