Latest quotes | Random quotes | Vote! | Latest comments | Add quote

Boethius

For in all adversity of fortune the worst sort of misery is to have been happy.

quote by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Related quotes

You Should Have Been The One For Me

Bye my lover! ! !
Bye my friend;
You should have been the one for me,
But you left me and married another man.

Bye my lover! ! !
Bye my friend;
Your should have been the one for me,
But your eyes met another man in the land of your muse.

You should have been the one for me,
And you surely know how much i love you!
For i did my best for you,
Even to back up your school's research work;
But you left me and married another man.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Deeds That Might Have Been

There are wrongs done in the fair face of heaven
Which cry aloud for vengeance, and shall cry;
Loves beautiful in strength whose wit has striven
Vainly with loss and man's inconstancy;
Dead children's faces watched by souls that die;
Pure streams defiled; fair forests idly riven;
A nation suppliant in its agony
Calling on justice, and no help is given.

All these are pitiful. Yet, after tears,
Come rest and sleep and calm forgetfulness,
And God's good providence consoles the years.
Only the coward heart which did not guess,
The dreamer of brave deeds that might have been,
Shall cureless ache with wounds for ever green.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

So Much for Us

The Lord God did so much for us, when we came to Christ Jesus,
Wickedly lost and so depraved, sinful men, by Christ God saved,
So far from any thoughts of God, living upon this sin cursed sod,
Who, when found in Jesus Christ, are now clothed for Eternal Life.

We were chosen by God's Grace, then destined for a better place,
To live forever with Jesus Christ, this, as we enter into Eternal Life;
As He who loved us died for all, to redeem man from Adam's Fall,
Saved from that curse of death, when we're granted eternal breath.

Yes, God bought us with a price, so we could enter into Paradise,
The Precious Blood of The Lamb, so to live with The Great 'I AM';
Cleansing us from sin and stain, not through our trial, but His pain,
Through Christ's death on Calvary, so that man could live eternally.

He robed us in His Righteousness, far from our wicked sinfulness,
And His Righteousness will endure, from this time, to forevermore;
As Christ keeps us upon this earth, through His Spirit of New Birth,
Being kept for greater things, to serve eternally, The King of kings.

By Christ we have been Glorified, so that in Heaven we may reside,
In that Mansion, prepared for us, by our risen Savior, Christ Jesus,
To live with The Lord God forever, with Christ's Church all together,
Being together in Heaven eternally; all attained by Christ at Calvary.


(08/2011)

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Only Way To Understand What We Have Been Talking About...

let me write about peace then.

the irony is that peace has no use of words,
like silence,

when you utter it, it is not there anymore.

let me paint peace then, ah, the very sound of the brush disturbs it,
the way we choose the color, creates an argument

let me have a camera and take a picture of peace,
disregard the click and the flash

just imagine it,

early dawn, a fisherman casts his net on a noiseless sea
all the fish have gone to the other side of the island.

the earlier you accept that you have been rightfully abandoned
the easier is it to understand what we have been talking about.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

About beautiful life

As a boy I had dreamt about beautiful life
Standing by beautiful figure like a glass doll as wife
I had no idea about what wife may stand for future
But definitely it was apparently a dream for sure

Some of the stages represent pure innocence
Some of the acts may speak sheer value of nonsense
Yet that is defined as one of the finest stage
Likely to stay for a while and disappear with the age

In childhood my smile might have been liked by many
I was loved by all members including granny
Mother used to call me diamond of the eye
When I used to demand with full cry

I saw some charm in mother's smile
I wondered about the female character and its style
How elegantly they moved despite all hardships!
Was she the lone sailor sailing through rough sea on ship?

So when I see any woman smiling with free style
I clearly see some reflection and get lost meanwhile
I may sink in dream and visualize some figure in mind
A lovely and beautiful smiling face in memory to find

Was it going to be substitute for caring mother in her life span?
Or was it just routine to come up with age as natural plan
I was rushing toward youth and little mustache had appeared
Everybody knew about gradual change and doubts were cleared

I was now looked with some hope for their future
Nice hierarchy to be followed and continued for sure
I was given enough of liberty to choose the partner
That moment is now going to be reality in days or after

I was woken up by a sweet voice
Beautiful melody with pin dropp peace
She extended hand with lots of promises
Any man would love to sink with such miss

I look back and see all those trailers
Where I was put on horse as riders
I was taken in procession with much fun fare
A journey to be taken but leading no where

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Cole And Glass

she was a beautiful girl
with light blond hair
although she had problems
she still wasnt scared
she had the heart of a worrior
and the motivation
of a lioness waiting to strike her pray
as she walked through the woods
and overcame the obsticals in her path
she was not alone
for a fox with brown fur fallowed
guiding her way and making sure she was ok
the fox defended the beautiful girl with all she could
but found out later on she had not done as good
although the fox tried hard to help
it wasnt enough
the girl had a heart of glass
and the fox a heart of cole
the girl had good things in her life
but the bad took it over
the fox left for just a while
and when she returned she found
the beautiful girl covered in blood
her wrists bleeding and her heart of glass
shattared to pieces mearly dropped
the fox looked at her friend with tears in her eyes
who would hurt this beautiful girl
what would make her want to take her life
the fox tried to think but found no thought
she had realized that she had done enough
and enough was everything she could to help the girl
the fox dug a whole deep in the ground and
covered her friend in beautiful leave that suit her well
she burried her were she knew the girl with the
now broken heart of glass would have been happy
in a beautiful sarounding in a quiet forest is where
she is burried
the fox said a prayer and howled at the moon
as she walked away carrying the pieces of her heart of glass
the fox swallowed each piece with thought and love
hope was upon her that it would be safe
so now in her chest right beside the foxes heart of cole
is a memorie the pieces of her friend glass heart
the beautiful girl with the heart of glass loved nights
an stars
she would always talk about them and now shes with them
watching over the fox
i swear i can still hear the beautiful girl talk to me
when the wind blows i hear her voice and when i look into the sky
on a bright stary night i can see her looking and watching for me
with my eyes closed i can picture her smile
i still here her calling me once in a while
saying my dear fox it is my turn to watch over you
with my heart of cole and the pieces of glass
friendship stays forever

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

(Forgiveness Poem) An Open Battle Field

My heart is an open battle field
Shoot your bombs.
Lay your mines.
With every wound received.
I will be fine.
Swimming through the time
Let me hit the point of being numb.

Controlling the masses
Just bow down.
And take it in the rear.
Watch as you lose another one you hold so dear.
Falling off the radar.
Who are you?
What are you doing here?
Is this where the poor live?
How long do you think you can survive?

My heart is an open battle field
Shoot your bombs.
Lay your mines.
With every wound received.
I will be fine.
Swimming through the time
Let me hit the point of being numb.

The world is committing suicide.
Everyone just swallow your pride.
If you expect the help from others.
You got to give all you have give.
Lord in my heart let me forgive.
No matter my hated enemy.

My heart is an open battle field
Shoot your bombs.
Lay your mines.
With every wound received.
I will be fine.
Swimming through the time
Let me hit the point of being numb.

It is a forced occurrence.
Not as we want but as we must.
The rules of greed.
In heaven I concede.
Their can't be this hierarchy.
Ruled under one thumb.
The gloom of this darkness.
Follow the leader.

My heart is an open battle field
Shoot your bombs.
Lay your mines.
With every wound received.
I will be fine.
Swimming through the time
Let me hit the point of being numb.

The teachers, or the preachers?
How do we view one another.
Painting another pretty rainbow.
The colors of the perfected flaws.
Lets put everything on pause.
Just look at us.
Divided by nothing.
Yet communication is non existent.
With every second the meaning is yet to met.
Dire consequences.

My heart is an open battle field
Shoot your bombs.
Lay your mines.
With every wound received.
I will be fine.
Swimming through the time
Let me hit the point of being numb.

Grabbing the gun and knife.
Preparing to defends ones life.
All because we can't share.
Like little children we fight our wars.
With equality being important above all else.
Death to this diluted common practice.
Lets just be as we are.
Deny the skies all you want.
Their still there.
Hovering in the air.

My heart is an open battle field
Shoot your bombs.
Lay your mines.
With every wound received.
I will be fine.
Swimming through the time
Let me hit the point of being numb.

I'm already gone.
In a higher place.
In a world disapproving.
To my conclusion.
But I don't even care.
I don't believe in fair.

I expect to receive the worst.
Cause in this life we have been cursed.
But it is the only way we can learn.
With the heart it has to be earned.
With all that is good I'm concerned.

My heart is an open battle field
Shoot your bombs.
Lay your mines.
With every wound received.
I will be fine.
Swimming through the time
Let me hit the point of being numb.

We are men that have the ability to find choice.
With this we should rejoice.
But instead we try to remove it and the responsibility of it.
Should I be angry?
Should I be mad?
Should I try to destroy other men?
With hope I pray that I can be forgiven.
Evil is the intent.
The world is trying to circumvent.
Shortcuts to the end.

My heart is an open battle field
Shoot your bombs.
Lay your mines.
With every wound received.
I will be fine.
Swimming through the time
Let me hit the point of being numb.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

All The Worst

How do we deal with this?
How do we clean up all this mess?
Will there be a future for the latest generation?
Running around, believing the sound,
Is anything loud enough for us to decipher
Making a stand, extending our hand, we must understand
It's the least we can offer those less fortunate than us
[chorus x2]
There's something about this place
It brings out all the worst
Our history's been disgraced
Who will destroy who first?
I'm balling up my fists
Waiting here defenseless isn't pacifist
It's ignorant, and cannot be allowed
Maybe it's here or maybe it's there,
We're never aware of just how safe we are
Could it be us or could it be them, unable to trust
The information that we need
[chorus x2]
This time, will we all, live on? [background vocal]
If hurting still exists
Make it go away
The problems that are plaguing you and I the same
This time, will we all, live on? [background vocal]
Causing it to stay
Counting down the days
It's eating at the very core of us
[chorus x2]
There's something wrong with this place

song performed by FlawReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Instead of the Griffin Prize* All I Get is the Griffin** or What I Get for Reading Too Much Godd*mned Charles Bukowski - A Poem-in-Cheek

for Karthik gone almost a year now,
'so much for mythology'


Many clips of poets, some known enough,
some not known, at least to me. I live
beneath a rock under a rusted old half-
bridge beneath the only cloud on earth
that doesn't move unless a rare bird,
a big one, flies beneath it. And so I
try them, 'the Winners.' Some I can't
bear to look at. I swear,
THAT'S NOT A POET!

I swiftly move to the others, one by one.
They don't know that they're all being
weighed, I admit it, in unfair balance,
GUILTY AS CHARGED.

But I'm magic.

I scream and curse the worst at them,
even more when they are undeniably very good,
HOW DARE THEY!

The rare bird, large, flies beneath the
only cloud that doesn't move except to
avoid any attachment other than to me.

Sh*ts on my head.

I go make a cup of tea.
Listen to Bach (J.S) , Gould's,
The Goldberg.***

Keep pointing to the radio.
Shaking my head muttering.
Whistling between fragments.

I open the curtain at midnight and wait
for the lights of the big planes to shine
directly in on me. Like that godd*mned
bird, they're in my flight path.

I am nervous.
But they don't fly over me.
Nor do they sh*t on my head.

Still, I wait there till very early in the
morning, till just before sunrise.

'Close call, ' I say.

Then I draw the curtain.

I fall hard into bed covering my
head with a pillow, that gold multi-mirrored
pillowcase a gift from the most beautiful
of lovers (both from India)

just in case.


*****

*The Griffin Prize, Canada's most generous poetry award,
founded by businessman and philanthropist Scott Griffin.

**The griffin, griffon, or gryphon (Greek: grýphōn, or grýpōn, early form, grýps; Latin: gryphus) is a legendary creature with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle. As the lion was traditionally considered the king of the beasts and the eagle was the king of the birds, the griffin was thought to be an especially powerful and majestic creature. The griffin was also thought of as king of the creatures. Griffins are known for guarding treasure and priceless possessions.
[from wikipedia]

***The Goldberg Variations. J.S. Bach. Performed by Glenn Gould:

Copy and paste: http: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=UGPJDgp2-9A&feature=related

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Worst

Well I said from the first
That I, I'm the worst kind of guy
For you to be around
Tear me apart
Including this old heart
That is true
And never ever let you down
You should'nt stick with me
You trust me too much, you see
Take all the pain
It's yours anyway
Get out kid
Oh put the blame on me
You ought to pass, you see
Oh somewhere outside
I threw
Love aside
And now
It's a tragedy
I said from the first
That I, I'm the worst kind of guy
For you to be around

song performed by Norah JonesReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Bad, The Worse And The Worst

THE bad has arrived
how can i refuse it? Then
it gets worse,
i have no cure for it,
and then
it goes worst,
it wants to eat me
but i stay cool
there is no reason
to panic

i hold on to the arms
of reason

the bad is temporary
just like the worse
the worst is simply the symptom
that bad is about end

when they leave
they leave together

so i just sit there
fan myself
and do not mind about
all of them
at all

they are bad anyway
and do not deserve my
attention

in that room
i only prepare
a cup of vanilla
ice cream
for myself

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Worst Thing

The worst thing
is holding on to someone
who dosen't want to be held on to
a caged bird
only wanting freedom that was given to them
falling for someone
who isn't going to catch you
life is too short
to be anything but happy
kiss slowly
love deeply
forgive quickly
love right
and you'll never hit the ground
if you do it right
don't be afrid to take chances
never regret
forget the past
but be smart and remember
what it taught you
sometimes we all have to smile
and pretend that everything is ok
holdig in our tears from the world
walk away and through the rainbow
and through the rainbow
let it shine over
the worst thing

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Worst Has Yet To Come

This is the last time
I'll bleed for you
I hold it all in
Cause you won't understand
It's easy for them to say
What I should do
I can't see the world
Through my jaded eyes
My faded broken gaze
Im afraid I'll see
The mistake I made
That I'll always regret
[chorus]
The worst has yet to come
I took your heart
And fumbled it
I don't want to feel this way
Just need to get away
I said Im sorry I
Made a big mistake
Who is it now?
She came in my life
Took my hand and
Showed me her love
I know she's there
I can feel her breathin'
[chorus]
Wow what a girl
Such a beautiful girl
She saved my eyes
And I won't forget that
The worst has yet to come

song performed by Yellow 5Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Worst Has Yet To Come

This is the last time
I'll bleed for you
I hold it all in
Cause you won't understand
It's easy for them to say
What I should do
I can't see the world
Through my jaded eyes
My faded broken gaze
Im afraid I'll see
The mistake I made
That I'll always regret
[chorus]
The worst has yet to come
I took your heart
And fumbled it
I don't want to feel this way
Just need to get away
I said Im sorry I
Made a big mistake
Who is it now?
She came in my life
Took my hand and
Showed me her love
I know she's there
I can feel her breathin'
[chorus]
Wow what a girl
Such a beautiful girl
She saved my eyes
And I won't forget that
The worst has yet to come

song performed by Yellow 5Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Worst

You weren't the first,
but you certainly were the worst.
Complaing, moaning, constant groaning.
I think it's time for you to get going.
Always clucking like a hen.
Will this nightmare ever end?
You steal my stuff,
so you can go out and buy a bit.
Worst of all though you stole my heart.
Now in your face I loudly fart.
Sweet relief when we finally part.
I can't take anymore it's just too hard.
You beat me down with vicious words,
sometimes beating me with such strenous verve.
I've had enough you useless witch.
Now I'm hoping a bus,
to what city God knows which.
Well so long and burn in hell.
I suppose we'll see eachother there.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Worst Day Of My Life

My Heart Has Now Shattered
I Should Feel Angered
Watching You Walk Down The Aisle With Her
Is It Because She's Brighter?
I Try So Hard To Hide This Feeling Inside
The Feeling I Died
The Feeling That I Should Be The One Marrying You
You Said That Your Feeling For Her Were True
Is It Because She's More Beautiful Than I?
Please Just Tell Me Why
She'll Never Know You The Same Way I Do
Don't Even Try To Argue
We Both Know Who's Right
I Know This Is Supposed To Be The Best Day Of Your Life
The Day She Became Your Wife
But With All Respect
I Must Say I Object
She Doesn't Love You
Not The Way That I Do
The Day That You And Her Became One
The Day That I Lost And She Had Won
The Day That She Gained Your Last Name
The Day I Lost What Made Me Tame
I Lost You
I Can't Say That This Feeling Is New
For I Have Lost Everything That I Ever Called Mine
No, I'm Not Fine
Not That You Should Care
Life's Not Fair
Especially Because Everything That I Have Ever Lost...
It Was All Because Of Her
The Cheater
The Day She Became Your Wife
Will Forever Be The Worst Day Of My Life

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Worst Day Ever

1. Well, it started with the sprinkler,
Goin' off at five a.m.
Got a call from the neighbors,
Thought, 'Oh, I'm in a jam.'
The next, it was a flat
On my way to work,
'What else could go wrong? '
Yeah, it's drivin' me biserk.
(Chorus)
Why do these things
Keep happenin' to me?
I don't deserve this,
What could it be?
Why is everything
Turnin' around?
It doesn't make me feel any better,
That this could be the worst day ever!
2. The boss at my job
Fired me today.
I say, 'What the heck! '
And I start runnin' away.
But then I turned around,
Thinkin, 'What is the point? '
Somethin' bad's gonna happen,
'Cause nothin's goin' right.
(Chorus)
3. I'm goin' home,
And I'm callin' my friends.
Thinkin' that the world's
About to come to an end.
If anybody hurts me,
That'll be the last of it all,
But then I hang up,
And I walk down the hall, and say
(Chorus)
(Guitar Solo
(Chorus)
4. I go for a drive
To my friend's housem
Thinkin' she's gonna say,
'Turn and go back home.'
But then I stop the car,
And go into the mall.
The next thing I know,
I run into the best guy of all!
(My true love!)
(Chorus) x 2
Bridge: But it turns out,
I was so wrong.
This is the best day of all!
Yeah, it's the best day ever!
It if the best day ever!
Yeow!

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon

spent most of last night
dragging this lake
for the corpses of all
my past mistakes
sell me out, the jokes on you
he is salt and you are the wound
empty another bottle
and let me tear you to pieces
this is me wishing you
into the worst situations
i'm the kinda kid who cant
let anything go
but you wouldn't know a good thing
if it came up and slit your throat
whoa whoa ooooh whoa whoa
your remorse hasn't fallen on deaf ears
rather ones that just don't care
cause i know
that you're in between arms somewhere
next to heartbeats where you shouldn't be asleep
now i'll teach you a lesson for keeping secrets from me
take your taste back
peel back your skin
and try to forget how it feels inside
you should try saying no once in a while
oh once in a while
take your taste back peel back your skin
and try to forget how it feels inside
you should try saying no once in a while
oh once in a while
and did you hear the news
i could dissect you and gut you on this stage
not as eloquent as i may have imagined
but it will get the job done
you're done
every line is plotted and designed
to leave you standing on your bedroom windows ledge
and everyone else that it hits
that it gets to
is nothing more than collateral damage
take your taste back
peel back your skin
and try to forget how it feels inside
you should try saying no once in a while
oh once in a while
take your taste back peel back your skin
and try to forget how it feels inside
you should try saying no once in a while
oh once in a while

song performed by Fall Out BoyReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
Patrick White

Why Do You Cast Me In The Worst Light

Why do you cast me in the worst light possible
when you know I treat you like the navel of the world,
the Pleiades, the ghost of a mountain
that was once my heart? Why do you lie to me
when you know there are doors beyond the truth
I’ve already walked through
like an initiation into a darkness
that will adorn your breath with stars?
Nothing mundane, nothing extraordinary
and yet I find myself here with you at sixty-three
having run out of mirrors and windows to read,
believing there are no more eyes
like wells in a desert to drink from, no further
delirium of the spirit that won’t prove me a clown
if I were to believe in it at my age
when every hour is either a funeral, a storm, or a crisis.
And yet how much I do want to believe,
how much I long to discover
rain on the moon, mystical fireflies
in the punk and tinder of the cattails,
sacred keychains on the ground at my feet,
a phoenix in the ashes of the blue guitar. At times
everything is ecclesiastically vain, contaminated
by the insight, bad meat in the mindstream,
that everything I ever cherished and tried to emulate
is nothing more than the shabby dream,
the random action of expiring illusions
indifferent to their embodiment in blood or blessing,
child, martyr, suicide or saint,
prick, pariah, or prophet, all
without exception, true to the vision that is them,
even the madman convinced of his private verities
as the apple-tree is convinced of its leaves
and the sun espouses the flower. Is it not absurdly vain,
knowing all things are vain
to feel abandoned by the assurance,
so blithely and brightly assumed when young
among the junkyards and the orchards
that life has not been endured and transcended in vain,
that the tender transience of the fire, and the shadows that it cast,
the myriad transformations, the chrysalis and the coffin,
and all the ore of ardour refined
by the pursuit of an igneous excellence, the grace
of a virtue slowly attained like the taming of a wild gazelle,
or a chair well-made by a man
with the soul of a tree, were not without the grandeur
of a hidden harmony more crucial than the obvious,
no life lived that was lived to no purpose?
I can give myself like a seed to the wind, I can
sit down at a table of elements with the atoms
and toast the bonding ceremonies of carbon;
and I can shine into the vast openness of an endless night
with the exaltant ferocity of a ray of light
certain there are vital planets
in the path of my shining,
astronomers, lovers, sailors, and birds
to mitigate the expansive vacancies
in the breach of intelligent eyes. And behind
the order, the law, the function,
the dazzling billboards,
I can wander for hours aimlessly in the dark fields
stretching forever beyond our accommodations of chaos.
In the wyrd of perceptions,
sensations, thoughts, passions and ideas,
the mysterious abundance of my sentience,
I can depose the petty elector of myself
and confess like a key to my homelessness
there never was a threshold to cross,
or a door that didn’t open
to greet the emptiness either way as guest or host,
There never was a country, a shadow on the wall,
to obey or rule, nothing
but a devastating freedom that longs for chains
that cannot hold us in our passing because
we alone are the chain that binds us,
the stone that shuts us in,
and even the most infallible of prisons
in the glimpse of an insight, is dust on the wind.
And yet I long, as I have longed for you
and implored intrusions of the night to stay,
for a sweeter affirmation, even of chaos,
than these diminishments of seeing that turn me grey.
In a waste of fear and fire, against
my own unknowing
I long for a lie that’s worthy of the truth, a truth
that masters the masters of illusion
by revealing a place to hide
that is not hidden, an infinite openness that yet embraces
the hard crystal in the heart of the dream-catcher,
and a law that doesn’t condemn
the selflessness of everything that’s it’s forbidden,
and a mystery that discloses without an exegete
who you are, who I am, what a rose is,
an origin that isn’t a defamation of the end,
an impersonality with the face of a friend.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Cross Roads; Or, The Haymaker's Story

Stopt by the storm, that long in sullen black
From the south-west stained its encroaching track,
Haymakers, hustling from the rain to hide,
Sought the grey willows by the pasture-side;
And there, while big drops bow the grassy stems,
And bleb the withering hay with pearly gems,
Dimple the brook, and patter in the leaves,
The song or tale an hour's restraint relieves.
And while the old dames gossip at their ease,
And pinch the snuff-box empty by degrees,
The young ones join in love's delightful themes,
Truths told by gipsies, and expounded dreams;
And mutter things kept secrets from the rest,
As sweethearts' names, and whom they love the best;
And dazzling ribbons they delight to show,
And last new favours of some veigling beau,
Who with such treachery tries their hearts to move,
And, like the highest, bribes the maidens' love.
The old dames, jealous of their whispered praise,
Throw in their hints of man's deluding ways;
And one, to give her counsels more effect,
And by example illustrate the fact
Of innocence oercome by flattering man,
Thrice tapped her box, and pinched, and thus began.

'Now wenches listen, and let lovers lie,
Ye'll hear a story ye may profit by;
I'm your age treble, with some oddments to't,
And right from wrong can tell, if ye'll but do't:
Ye need not giggle underneath your hat,
Mine's no joke-matter, let me tell you that;
So keep ye quiet till my story's told,
And don't despise your betters cause they're old.

'That grave ye've heard of, where the four roads meet,
Where walks the spirit in a winding-sheet,
Oft seen at night, by strangers passing late,
And tarrying neighbours that at market wait,
Stalking along as white as driven snow,
And long as one's shadow when the sun is low;
The girl that's buried there I knew her well,
And her whole history, if ye'll hark, can tell.
Her name was Jane, and neighbour's children we,
And old companions once, as ye may be;
And like to you, on Sundays often strolled
To gipsies' camps to have our fortunes told;
And oft, God rest her, in the fortune-book
Which we at hay-time in our pockets took,
Our pins at blindfold on the wheel we stuck,
When hers would always prick the worst of luck;
For try, poor thing, as often as she might,
Her point would always on the blank alight;
Which plainly shows the fortune one's to have,
As such like go unwedded to the grave,--
And so it proved.--The next succeeding May,
We both to service went from sports and play,
Though in the village still; as friends and kin
Thought neighbour's service better to begin.
So out we went:--Jane's place was reckoned good,
Though she bout life but little understood,
And had a master wild as wild can be,
And far unfit for such a child as she;
And soon the whisper went about the town,
That Jane's good looks procured her many a gown
From him, whose promise was to every one,
But whose intention was to wive with none.
Twas nought to wonder, though begun by guess;
For Jane was lovely in her Sunday dress,
And all expected such a rosy face
Would be her ruin--as was just the case.
The while the change was easily perceived,
Some months went by, ere I the tales believed;
For there are people nowadays, Lord knows,
Will sooner hatch up lies than mend their clothes;
And when with such-like tattle they begin,
Don't mind whose character they spoil a pin:
But passing neighbours often marked them smile,
And watched him take her milkpail oer a stile;
And many a time, as wandering closer by,
From Jenny's bosom met a heavy sigh;
And often marked her, as discoursing deep,
When doubts might rise to give just cause to weep,
Smothering their notice, by a wished disguise
To slive her apron corner to her eyes.
Such signs were mournful and alarming things,
And far more weighty than conjecture brings;
Though foes made double what they heard of all,
Swore lies as proofs, and prophesied her fall.
Poor thoughtless wench! it seems but Sunday past
Since we went out together for the last,
And plain enough indeed it was to find
She'd something more than common on her mind;
For she was always fond and full of chat,
In passing harmless jokes bout beaus and that,
But nothing then was scarcely talked about,
And what there was, I even forced it out.
A gloomy wanness spoiled her rosy cheek,
And doubts hung there it was not mine to seek;
She neer so much as mentioned things to come,
But sighed oer pleasures ere she left her home;
And now and then a mournful smile would raise
At freaks repeated of our younger days,
Which I brought up, while passing spots of ground
Where we, when children, 'hurly-burlied' round,
Or 'blindman-buffed' some morts of hours away--
Two games, poor thing, Jane dearly loved to play.
She smiled at these, but shook her head and sighed
When eer she thought my look was turned aside;
Nor turned she round, as was her former way,
To praise the thorn, white over then with May;
Nor stooped once, though thousands round her grew,
To pull a cowslip as she used to do:
For Jane in flowers delighted from a child--
I like the garden, but she loved the wild--
And oft on Sundays young men's gifts declined,
Posies from gardens of the sweetest kind,
And eager scrambled the dog-rose to get,
And woodbine-flowers at every bush she met.
The cowslip blossom, with its ruddy streak,
Would tempt her furlongs from the path to seek;
And gay long purple, with its tufty spike,
She'd wade oer shoes to reach it in the dyke;
And oft, while scratching through the briary woods
For tempting cuckoo-flowers and violet buds,
Poor Jane, I've known her crying sneak to town,
Fearing her mother, when she'd torn her gown.
Ah, these were days her conscience viewed with pain,
Which all are loth to lose, as well as Jane.
And, what I took more odd than all the rest,
Was, that same night she neer a wish exprest
To see the gipsies, so beloved before,
That lay a stone's throw from us on the moor:
I hinted it; she just replied again--
She once believed them, but had doubts since then.
And when we sought our cows, I called, 'Come mull!'
But she stood silent, for her heart was full.
She loved dumb things: and ere she had begun
To milk, caressed them more than eer she'd done;
But though her tears stood watering in her eye,
I little took it as her last good-bye;
For she was tender, and I've often known
Her mourn when beetles have been trampled on:
So I neer dreamed from this, what soon befell,
Till the next morning rang her passing-bell.
My story's long, but time's in plenty yet,
Since the black clouds betoken nought but wet;
And I'll een snatch a minute's breath or two,
And take another pinch, to help me through.

'So, as I said, next morn I heard the bell,
And passing neighbours crossed the street, to tell
That my poor partner Jenny had been found
In the old flag-pool, on the pasture, drowned.
God knows my heart! I twittered like a leaf,
And found too late the cause of Sunday's grief;
For every tongue was loosed to gabble oer
The slanderous things that secret passed before:
With truth or lies they need not then be strict,
The one they railed at could not contradict.
Twas now no secret of her being beguiled,
For every mouth knew Jenny died with child;
And though more cautious with a living name,
Each more than guessed her master bore the blame.
That very morning, it affects me still,
Ye know the foot-path sidles down the hill,
Ignorant as babe unborn I passed the pond
To milk as usual in our close beyond,
And cows were drinking at the water's edge,
And horses browsed among the flags and sedge,
And gnats and midges danced the water oer,
Just as I've marked them scores of times before,
And birds sat singing, as in mornings gone,--
While I as unconcerned went soodling on,
But little dreaming, as the wakening wind
Flapped the broad ash-leaves oer the pond reclin'd,
And oer the water crinked the curdled wave,
That Jane was sleeping in her watery grave.
The neatherd boy that used to tend the cows,
While getting whip-sticks from the dangling boughs
Of osiers drooping by the water-side,
Her bonnet floating on the top espied;
He knew it well, and hastened fearful down
To take the terror of his fears to town,--

A melancholy story, far too true;
And soon the village to the pasture flew,
Where, from the deepest hole the pond about,
They dragged poor Jenny's lifeless body out,
And took her home, where scarce an hour gone by
She had been living like to you and I.
I went with more, and kissed her for the last,
And thought with tears on pleasures that were past;
And, the last kindness left me then to do,
I went, at milking, where the blossoms grew,
And handfuls got of rose and lambtoe sweet,
And put them with her in her winding-sheet.
A wilful murder, jury made the crime;
Nor parson 'lowed to pray, nor bell to chime;
On the cross roads, far from her friends and kin,
The usual law for their ungodly sin
Who violent hands upon themselves have laid,
Poor Jane's last bed unchristian-like was made;
And there, like all whose last thoughts turn to heaven,
She sleeps, and doubtless hoped to be forgiven.
But, though I say't, for maids thus veigled in
I think the wicked men deserve the sin;
And sure enough we all at last shall see
The treachery punished as it ought to be.
For ere his wickedness pretended love,
Jane, I'll be bound, was spotless as the dove,
And's good a servant, still old folks allow,
As ever scoured a pail or milked a cow;
And ere he led her into ruin's way,
As gay and buxom as a summer's day:
The birds that ranted in the hedge-row boughs,
As night and morning we have sought our cows,
With yokes and buckets as she bounced along,
Were often deafed to silence with her song.

But now she's gone:--girls, shun deceitful men,
The worst of stumbles ye can fall agen;
Be deaf to them, and then, as twere, ye'll see
Your pleasures safe as under lock and key.
Throw not my words away, as many do;
They're gold in value, though they're cheap to you.
And husseys hearken, and be warned from this,
If ye love mothers, never do amiss:
Jane might love hers, but she forsook the plan
To make her happy, when she thought of man.
Poor tottering dame, it was too plainly known,
Her daughter's dying hastened on her own,
For from the day the tidings reached her door
She took to bed and looked up no more,
And, ere again another year came round,
She, well as Jane, was laid within the ground;
And all were grieved poor Goody's end to see:
No better neighbour entered house than she,
A harmless soul, with no abusive tongue,
Trig as new pins, and tight's the day was long;
And go the week about, nine times in ten
Ye'd find her house as cleanly as her sen.
But, Lord protect us! time such change does bring,
We cannot dream what oer our heads may hing;
The very house she lived in, stick and stone,
Since Goody died, has tumbled down and gone:
And where the marjoram once, and sage, and rue,
And balm, and mint, with curled-leaf parsley grew,
And double marygolds, and silver thyme,
And pumpkins neath the window used to climb;
And where I often when a child for hours
Tried through the pales to get the tempting flowers,
As lady's laces, everlasting peas,
True-love-lies-bleeding, with the hearts-at-ease,
And golden rods, and tansy running high
That oer the pale-tops smiled on passers-by,
Flowers in my time that every one would praise,
Though thrown like weeds from gardens nowadays;
Where these all grew, now henbane stinks and spreads,
And docks and thistles shake their seedy heads,
And yearly keep with nettles smothering oer;--
The house, the dame, the garden known no more:
While, neighbouring nigh, one lonely elder-tree
Is all that's left of what had used to be,
Marking the place, and bringing up with tears
The recollections of one's younger years.
And now I've done, ye're each at once as free
To take your trundle as ye used to be;
To take right ways, as Jenny should have ta'en,
Or headlong run, and be a second Jane;
For by one thoughtless girl that's acted ill
A thousand may be guided if they will:
As oft mong folks to labour bustling on,
We mark the foremost kick against a stone,
Or stumble oer a stile he meant to climb,
While hind ones see and shun the fall in time.
But ye, I will be bound, like far the best
Love's tickling nick-nacks and the laughing jest,
And ten times sooner than be warned by me,
Would each be sitting on some fellow's knee,
Sooner believe the lies wild chaps will tell
Than old dames' cautions, who would wish ye well:
So have your wills.'--She pinched her box again,
And ceased her tale, and listened to the rain,
Which still as usual pattered fast around,
And bowed the bent-head loaded to the ground;
While larks, their naked nest by force forsook,
Pruned their wet wings in bushes by the brook.

The maids, impatient now old Goody ceased,
As restless children from the school released,
Right gladly proving, what she'd just foretold,
That young ones' stories were preferred to old,
Turn to the whisperings of their former joy,
That oft deceive, but very rarely cloy.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
 

Search


Recent searches | Top searches