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Many are ambitious of saying grand things, that is, of being grandiloquent.

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Be ambitious

Be ambitious
But, cautiously
Keeping in view
The nature and extent
Of your strengths
And after weighing
Your weaknesses

Be ambitious of
Harnessing strengths of others
For raising a human race
For collective growth and
Harmonious co-existence
Not of developing a mass
For a mad and unquestioned following

Be ambitious
Of becoming something yourself
Not of becoming a owner
Of material significance

Be ambitious
Of evolving new values to life
Not of adding values
To things in your possession

Be ambitious
Of helping others
Realize new dimensions of existence
Not of helping them
Just to exist

Be ambitious
Of bringing more and more
Into your affectionate bond of love
Not of keeping others
Into your fold because of fear for you
Or favour from you

Be ambitious of
Knowing yourself better
Not of making others
Understand you better

Be ambitious of
Becoming a model human being
For others to emulate
Not of copying or emulating
Someone’s model

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Virginia's Story

Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.

She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.

When she was old enough she got married.

First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.

Agnes was my mother.

Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.

Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.

Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.

Anna was a maid and cook.

She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth

They were both good cooks

They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.

My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.

She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.

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It's Grand

It's grand to be a squatter
And sit upon a post,
And watch your little ewes and lambs
A-giving up the ghost.

It's grand to be a "cockie"
With wife and kids to keep,
And find an all-wise Providence
Has mustered all your sheep.

It's grand to be a Western man,
With shovel in your hand,
To dig your little homestead out
From underneath the sand.

It's grand to be a shearer
Along the Darling-side,
And pluck the wool from stinking sheep
That some days since have died.

It's grand to be a rabbit
And breed till all is blue,
And then to die in heaps because
There's nothing left to chew.

It's grand to be a Minister
And travel like a swell,
And tell the Central District folk
To go to -- Inverell.

It's grand to be a socialist
And lead the bold array
That marches to prosperity
At seven bob a day.
It's grand to be unemployed
And lie in the Domain,
And wake up every second day --
And go to sleep again.

It's grand to borrow English tin
To pay for wharves and docks
And then to find it isn't in
The little money-box.

It's grand to be a democrat
And toady to the mob,
For fear that if you told the truth
They'd hunt you from your job.

It's grand to be a lot of things

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Grand Illusion

I saw you in a dream, it hit me like a bright light
Flashing on a screen, visions of my whole life.
I used to chase the moment of desire
Back to when my young heart burned like a fire.
It was just a, nothing but a grand illusion.
Heart was quicker than the eye.
Nothing but a grand illusion,
Legend in my own mind.
I held you in my arms till the other side of midnight.
Kept you in my mind, you got me through some long nights.
Standing on the threshold of desire,
Caught between the madness and the fire.
Chorus
It was all a grand illusion.
Hand was quicker than the eye.
Nothing but a grand illusion,
Legends in our own minds.
I used to chase the moments of desire
Back to when my young heart burned like a fire.
It was just a, nothing but a, it was all a grand illusion.
Nothing but a grand illusion.
It was all a grand illusion,
Legend in my own mind.
It was just a grand illusion.
Nothing but a grand illusion.
It was just a grand illusion,
Legend in our own mind.

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The Grand Parade Of Lifeless Packaging

When all this revolution is over, he sits down on a highly polished floor while his dizziness fades away. it is an empty modern hallway and the dreamdoll saleslady sits at the reception desk. wi
Prompting she goes into her rap: this is the grand parade of lifeless packaging, those you are about to see are all in for servicing, except for a small quantity of our new product, in th
Ond gallery. it is all the stock required to cover the existing arrangements of the enterprise. different batches are distributed to area operators, and there are plenty of opportunities for the
E investor. they stretch from the costly care-conditioned to the most reasonable mal-nutritioned. we find here that everyones looks become them. except for the low market mal-nutritioned, each
Ovided with a guarantee for a successful birth and trouble free infancy. there is however only a small amount of variable choice potential - not too far from the mean differential. you see, the
Has predetermined the limits of ac
Tion of any group of packages, but individuals may move off the path if their diversions are counter-balanced by others.
Its the last great adventure left to mankind
- screams a drooping lady
Offering her dreamdolls at less than extortionate prices,
And as the notes and coins are taken out
Im taken in, to the factory floor.
For the grand parade of lifeless packaging
- all ready to use
The grand parade of lifeless packaging
- I just need a fuse.
Got people stocked in every shade,
Must be doing well with trade.
Stamped, addressed, in odd fatality.
That evens out their personality.
With profit potential marked by a sign,
I can recognise some of the production line,
No bite at all in labour bondage,
Just wrinkled wrappers or human bandage.
Grand parade of lifeless packaging
- all ready to use
Its the grand parade of lifeless packaging
- I just need a fuse.
As he wanders along the line of packages, rael notices a familiarity in some of their faces. he finally comes upon some of the members of his old gang and worries about his own safety. running o
Rough the factory floor, he catches sight of his brother john with a number 9 stamped on his forehead.
The hall runs like clockwork
Their hands mark out the time;
Empty in their fullness
Like a frozen pantomime.
Everyones a sales representative
Wearing slogans in their shrine.
Dishing out failsafe superlative,
Brother john is no. 9.
Its the grand parade of lifeless packaging
- all ready to use
Its the grand parade of lifeless packaging
- I just need a fuse.
The decor on the ceiling
Has planned out their future day
I see no sign of free will,
So I guess I have to pay,
Pay my way,
For the grand parade...
Its the grand parade of lifeless packaging
- all ready to use

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie

This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.

This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it
Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian farmers,--
Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands,
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven?
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever departed!
Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts of October
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o'er the ocean
Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand-Pre.

Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is patient,
Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's devotion,
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines of the forest;
List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy.

PART THE FIRST

I

In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas,
Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pre
Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward,
Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without number.
Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor incessant,
Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons the flood-gates
Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the meadows.
West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards and cornfields
Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain; and away to the northward
Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the mountains
Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic
Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station descended
There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian village.
Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and of hemlock,
Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of the Henries.
Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows; and gables projecting
Over the basement below protected and shaded the doorway.
There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly the sunset
Lighted the village street and gilded the vanes on the chimneys,
Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in kirtles
Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the golden
Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles within doors

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The Great Franchise Demonstration

'Twas in the year of 1884, and on Saturday the 20th of September,
Which the inhabitants of Dundee will long remember
The great Liberal Franchise Demonstration,
Which filled their minds with admiration.

Oh! it was a most magnificent display,
To see about 20 or 30 thousand men all in grand array;
And each man with a medal on his breast;
And every man in the procession dressed in his best.

The banners of the processionists were really grand to see-
The like hasn't been seen for a long time in Dundee;
While sweet music from the bands did rend the skies,
And every processionist was resolved to vote for the Franchise.

And as the procession passed along each street,
The spectators did loudly the processionists greet;
As they viewed their beautiful banners waving in the wind,
They declared such a scene would be ever fresh in their mind.

The mustering of the processionists was very grand,
As along the Esplanade each man took his stand,
And as soon as they were marshalled in grand array,
To the Magdalen Green, in haste, they wended their way.

And when they arrived on the Magdalen Green,
I'm sure it was a very beautiful imposing scene-
While the cheers of that vast multitude ascended to the skies,
For the "Grand Old Man," Gladstone, the Hero of the Franchise,

Who has struggled very hard for the people's rights,
Many long years, and many weary nights;
And I think the "Grand Old Man" will gain the Franchise,
And if he does, the people will laud him to the skies.

And his name should be written in letters of gold :
For he is a wise statesman- true and bold-
Who has advocated the people's rights for many long years;
And when he is dead they will thank him with their tears.

For he is the man for the working man,
And without fear of contradiction, deny it who can;
Because he wishes the working man to have a good coat,
And, both in town and country, to have power to vote.

The reason why the Lords won't pass the Franchise Bill :
They fear that it will do themselves some ill;
That is the reason why they wish to throw it out,
Yes, believe me, fellow citizens, that's the cause without doubt.

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My grand dad

I remember you grand dad
Back since I was only three
I remember you granddad
How much you adored me
I remember you grand dad
How you made me smile
I remember you grand dad
You made my toddler years worthwhile
I remember you grand dad
Your lovely smell of tobacco
I remember you grand dad
The love for others you would show
I remember you grand dad
When I came to see you, you would give me a jellybean
I remember you grand dad
You always made me feel like a queen
I remember you grand dad
And I miss you everyday

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The Loves of the Angels

'Twas when the world was in its prime,
When the fresh stars had just begun
Their race of glory and young Time
Told his first birth-days by the sun;
When in the light of Nature's dawn
Rejoicing, men and angels met
On the high hill and sunny lawn,-
Ere sorrow came or Sin had drawn
'Twixt man and heaven her curtain yet!
When earth lay nearer to the skies
Than in these days of crime and woe,
And mortals saw without surprise
In the mid-air angelic eyes
Gazing upon this world below.

Alas! that Passion should profane
Even then the morning of the earth!
That, sadder still, the fatal stain
Should fall on hearts of heavenly birth-
And that from Woman's love should fall
So dark a stain, most sad of all!

One evening, in that primal hour,
On a hill's side where hung the ray
Of sunset brightening rill and bower,
Three noble youths conversing lay;
And, as they lookt from time to time
To the far sky where Daylight furled
His radiant wing, their brows sublime
Bespoke them of that distant world-
Spirits who once in brotherhood
Of faith and bliss near ALLA stood,
And o'er whose cheeks full oft had blown
The wind that breathes from ALLA'S throne,
Creatures of light such as still play,
Like motes in sunshine, round the Lord,
And thro' their infinite array
Transmit each moment, night and day,
The echo of His luminous word!

Of Heaven they spoke and, still more oft,
Of the bright eyes that charmed them thence;
Till yielding gradual to the soft
And balmy evening's influence-
The silent breathing of the flowers-
The melting light that beamed above,
As on their first, fond, erring hours,-
Each told the story of his love,
The history of that hour unblest,
When like a bird from its high nest

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Loch Katrine

Beautiful Loch Katrine in all thy majesty so grand,
Oh! how charming and fascinating is thy silver strand!
Thou certainly art most lovely, and worthy to be seen,
Especially thy beautiful bay and shrubberies green.

Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
And as I gaze upon it, let me pause and think,
How many people in Glasgow of its water drink,
That's conveyed to them in pipes from its placid lake,
And are glad to get its water their thirst to slake.

Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
The mountains on either side of it are beautiful to be seen,
Likewise the steamers sailing on it with their clouds of steam:
And their shadows on its crystal waters as they pass along,
Is enough to make the tourist burst into song.

Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
'Tis beautiful to see its tiny wimpling rills,
And the placid Loch in the hollow of a circle of hills,
Glittering like silver in the sun's bright array,
Also many a promontory, little creek, and bay.

Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
Then to the east there's the finely wooded Ellen's Isle,
There the tourist can the tedious hours beguile,
As he gazes on its white gravelled beautiful bay,
It will help to drive dull care away.

Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
The mountains Ben-An and Ben-Venue are really very grand
Likewise the famous and clear silver strand;
Where the bold Rob Roy spent many a happy day,
With his faithful wife, near by its silvery bay.

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The Devil Made Me Do It!

My father said, advising me
On a winter's afternoon,
'If you ever sup with the devil, son,
Then sup with a long spoon.'

'He'll always try to cozen you,
To draw you into his schemes,
Whenever you're down and out, my son
He'll fill your head with dreams.'

'He'll make you feel grandiloquent,
With a power so sublime,
You'll think you're all but immortal, son
As you stray from the bottom line.'

'And slowly, slowly, he will fix
His hooks into your soul,
You'll never notice the hooks, my son
As you head toward your goal.'

'But come the day of reckoning
When your hens come home to roost,
It's - 'Sign on the dotted line…', my son,
Too late then for a truce! '

'So don't you ever sign your name,
That's my advice to you,
That parchment's never the worst of things
The Devil has plans to do.'

'He has a place set up for you
In his deep and dark dominions,
Stoking the fires of hell, my son
With the rest of the Devil's minions.'

* * * * *

Many a year has passed since then,
Time tends us to forget,
I only thought of his words as those
Of some long lost vignette.

But then I started a business up
In a modest little shop,
With fishing tackle and bait, it boomed,
I thought it would never stop.

The profits soared, I built a store
So large, grandiloquent,
My rivals slandered me more and more

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Alphabet Artistry

ALPHABET ARTISTRY
Able acrostic artist’s alignment adds air.
Alliteration asks acknowledgement aware,
Bard’s brain bequeaths benchmark billet, blends braid bans blare,
Beware braggarts’ boasts, banality, betrayal backstair.
Classic composition, clear content, compare
Creative couplets, compliment competent care.
Drawing descriptions deftly displayed debonair
Droll doggerel dubbed dextrous, doubts dismayed. Declare
Entertaining epistle’s extent e’er ensnare
Easy erudition evident everywhere
Fair fancy’s flight futility forbade, fine flair
Flickering forever – feeble fops fade – fan fair.
Great gifts, gainsay gameplay grandiloquent, gross glare,
Gain gleeful guests, greet gallant guy, girl, gent, goad galere.
Here he has honed his heavenly homemade highbrow
Handwritten harvest, handmade harlequinade … how?
Insight inviting idyll irreverent, ifere
Invents ideas intelligent, intent inhere
Judicious jumble joke jest judges jaded jeer,
Joins joyful jingle jamboree jacent jardinière
Kaleidoscopic knowledge knits kaross. Kowtow!
Knight’s kakemono knack karmic kudos. Know
Lines lyrical, lightheartedly linked, laid layer
Liltingly linger, lasting leisure lent lustreware
Mute melancholy! Muse’s masquerade mayor
Master musters magic meter, music made midair
Neat new needlecraft, never negligent ne’er
Neutral, negative nonsense, nonevent nowhere.
Ode’s object - open offering - obeyed order
Onomatopoeia overlayed over
Poetic passions, purposefully pent, prepare
Portrait pasquinade polyvalent poetic pair
Quick-witted quips quell quitters querulent, queer.
Quizmaster quality quite quiets querent. Quair’s
Rhymic reel responsive, readymade, reads rare
Reverberation, readily relaid repair.
Stanzas succinct, shrewd signposts sapient, should share
Such skillful stringing signals softly sent. So spare
The thesis, tested, triumphs, teasing trade that there
Takes time to twin terms taut, taught twined torsade tough to tear
Usage unexpected unpenitent, - unfair?
Unravels uniformity, unpent unaware.
Vitality, vim, vetoed vehement vaporware,
Vivacious verse’s veriloquent vent via vare
When willing writer worked with wonderment where
Weaving worthwhile wordplay wreath while weekend went west ware.
Xylophonic xenagogue xeroxes XX XY,
Xenial xesturgy xenogamy x-rays Xerxes, xanthous Xanthippe
Yet Ylem, Yggdrasil, yug yesterday, - yare

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Victor Hugo

Aux proscrits

EN PLANTANT LE CHÊNE DES ÉTATS-UNIS D'EUROPE

DANS LE JARDIN DE HAUTEVILLE HOUSE

LE 14 JUILLET 1870


I

Semons ce qui demeure, ô passants que nous sommes !
Le sort est un abîme, et ses flots sont amers,
Au bord du noir destin, frères, semons des hommes,
Et des chênes au bord des mers !

Nous sommes envoyés, bannis, sur ce calvaire,
Pour être vus de loin, d'en bas, par nos vainqueurs,
Et pour faire germer par l'exemple sévère
Des coeurs semblables à nos coeurs.

Et nous avons aussi le devoir, ô nature,
D'allumer des clartés sous ton fauve sourcil,
Et de mettre à ces rocs la grande signature
De l'avenir et de l'exil.

Sachez que nous pouvons faire sortir de terre
Le chêne triomphal que l'univers attend,
Et faire frissonner dans son feuillage austère
L'idée au sourire éclatant.

La matière aime et veut que notre appel l'émeuve ;
Le globe est sous l'esprit, et le grand verbe humain
Enseigne l'être, et l'onde, et la sève, et le fleuve,
Qui lui demandent leur chemin.

L'homme, quand il commande aux flots de le connaître,
Aux mers de l'écouter dans le bruit qu'elles font,
A la terre d'ouvrir son flanc, aux temps de naître,
Est un mage immense et profond.

Ayons foi dans ce germe ! Amis, il nous ressemble.
Il sera grand et fort, puisqu'il est faible et nu.
Nous sommes ses pareils, bannis, nous en qui tremble
Tout un vaste monde inconnu !

Nous fûmes secoués d'un arbre formidable,
Un soir d'hiver, à l'heure où le monde est puni,
Nous fûmes secoués, frères, dans l'insondable,
Dans l'ouragan, dans l'infini.

Chacun de nous contient le chêne République ;

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The Buckskin Bag of Gold

Last night I met him on the train--
A man with lovely eyes;
And he gave me a searching glance
Of sweet charm'd surprise!
I knew 'twas he the lady meant,
Who once my fortune told,
By his jet black eyes, his grand moustache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.

Yes! (Ha! ha!) Yes! (ha! ha!) his is the man
Who does your fortune hold!
He has jet black eyes, a grand moustache,
And a buckskin bag of gold.
Tall! (Ha! ha!) slim! (ha! ha!) quick as a flash!
And twenty two years old;
He has jet black eyes, his grand moustache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.

The dearest man you ever saw
How much I love him now!
And if I should live a thousand years,
No other hears my vow.
Like Judas--no, like Jupiter,
He look'd so brave and bold,
With his jet black eyes, his grand moustache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.

Sweet boy bring me the "Morning Call"
Perchance I'll find his name;
At the "Grand Hotel" he must have stopp'd,
I wonder when he came!
He must have charm'd those Lumpkin girls,
So haughty, proud and cold,
By his jet black eyes, his grand mousetache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.

How can I seek a name unknown?
Oh, tell me where he went!
What is this I read! why Papa's bank
Is robb'd of ev'ry cent!
The thief, it seems, left town last night,
Well, well! I'm nicely sold!
He had jet black eyes, his grand mousetache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.

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Frogga

Long long ago
In a faraway land
Lived a frog named
Mr. Stikitung Grand

Near a meander
In his little mud house
In rain you could hear him Croak,
Looking for a spouse

Rains came and went
But he never got a single mate
He tried every trick a frog could
Still no one fell for his bait

He would keep
Harnessing his vocals
Polishing his webbed digits and
Perfecting his focal

While his efforts were appreciated
And some found it cute
The girls still went out
With the true frogs, the slimy smooth

With Mr. Grand being so different
All warts and moles
Others wondered how
He would ever father tadpoles

Mr. Grand with his huge eyes
And big mouth could do very little
All these hurdles made Him
Too depressed and shittle

While there were uncertainties
Looming large on his life
Fellow amphibians were betting
On his chances of getting a wife

For termites said the caecilians
Calling others to join the hoot
For worms said salamander and
For cricket said the newt.

On the fateful day Mr. Grand got fed up
And was waiting to call it a night
When he heard a hiss
Loud enough to give him a fright

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The Queen's Jubilee Celebrations

'Twas in the year of 1897, and on the 22nd of June,
Her Majesty's Diamond Jubilee in London caused a great boom;
Because high and low came from afar to see,
The grand celebrations at Her Majesty's Diamond Jubilee.

People were there from almost every foreign land,
Which made the scene really imposing and grand;
Especially the Queen's carriage, drawn by eight coloured bays,
And when the spectators saw it joyous shouts they did raise.

Oh! if was a most gorgeous sight to be seen,
Numerous foreign magnatss were there for to see the queen;
And to the vast multitude there of women and men,
Her Majesty for two hours showed herself to them.

The head of the procession looked very grand -
A party of the Horse Guards with their gold-belaced band;
Which also headed the procession of the Colonial States,
While slowly they rode on until opposite the Palace gates.

Then the sound of the National Anthem was heard quite clear,
And the sound the hearts of the mighty crowd it did cheer;
As they heard the loyal hymning on the morning air,
The scene was most beautiful and surpassing fair.

On the house tops thousands of people were to be seen,
All in eager expectation of seeing the queen;
And all of them seemed to be happy and gay,
Which enhanced the scene during the day.

And when Field Marshal Roberts in the procession passed by,
The cheers from thousands of people arose very high;
And to see him on his war horse was inspiring to see,
Because he rode his charger most splendidly.

The Natal mounted troops were loudly cheered, they looked so grand,
And also the London Irish Emerald Isle Band;
Oh if was a most magnificent sight to see.
The Malta Militia and Artillery,
And the Trinidad Artillery, and also bodies of infantry,
And, as the crowd gazed thereon, it filled their hearts with glee.

Her Majesty looked well considering her years,
And from the vast crowd burst forth joyous cheers;
And Her Majesty bowed to the shouts of acclamation,
And smiled upon the crowd with a loving look of admiration.

His Excellency Chan Yin Hun in his carriage wan a great attraction,
And his Oriental garb seemed to give the people great satisfaction;
While the two little Battenberg's carriage, as it drove along,

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The Ghost - Book IV

Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Ninth Book

EVEN thus. I pause to write it out at length,
The letter of the Lady Waldemar.–

'I prayed your cousin Leigh to take you this,
He says he'll do it. After years of love,
Or what is called so,–when a woman frets
And fools upon one string of a man's name,
And fingers it for ever till it breaks,–
He may perhaps do for her such thing,
And she accept it without detriment
Although she should not love him any more
And I, who do not love him, nor love you,
Nor you, Aurora,–choose you shall repent
Your most ungracious letter, and confess,
Constrained by his convictions, (he's convinced)
You've wronged me foully. Are you made so ill,
You woman–to impute such ill to me?
We both had mothers,–lay in their bosom once.
Why, after all, I thank you, Aurora Leigh,
For proving to myself that there are things
I would not do, . . not for my life . . nor him . .
Though something I have somewhat overdone,–
For instance, when I went to see the gods
One morning, on Olympus, with a step
That shook the thunder in a certain cloud,
Committing myself vilely. Could I think,
The Muse I pulled my heart out from my breast
To soften, had herself a sort of heart,
And loved my mortal? He, at least, loved her;
I heard him say so; 'twas my recompence,
When, watching at his bedside fourteen days,
He broke out ever like a flame at whiles
Between the heats of fever . . . 'Is it thou?
'Breathe closer, sweetest mouth!' and when at last
The fever gone, the wasted face extinct
As if it irked him much to know me there,
He said, Twas kind, 'twas good, 'twas womanly,'
(And fifty praises to excuse one love)
'But was the picture safe he had ventured for?'
And then, half wandering . . 'I have loved her well,
Although she could not love me.'–'Say instead,'
I answered, 'that she loves you.'–'Twas my turn
To rave: (I would have married him so changed,
Although the world had jeered me properly
For taking up with Cupid at his worst,
The silver quiver worn off on his hair.)
'No, no,' he murmured, 'no, she loves me not;
'Aurora Leigh does better: bring her book
'And read it softly, Lady Waldemar,
'Until I thank your friendship more for that,

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The Four Seasons : Autumn

Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on; the Doric reed once more,
Well pleased, I tune. Whate'er the wintry frost
Nitrous prepared; the various blossom'd Spring
Put in white promise forth; and Summer-suns
Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view,
Full, perfect all, and swell my glorious theme.
Onslow! the Muse, ambitious of thy name,
To grace, inspire, and dignify her song,
Would from the public voice thy gentle ear
A while engage. Thy noble cares she knows,
The patriot virtues that distend thy thought,
Spread on thy front, and in thy bosom glow;
While listening senates hang upon thy tongue,
Devolving through the maze of eloquence
A roll of periods, sweeter than her song.
But she too pants for public virtue, she,
Though weak of power, yet strong in ardent will,
Whene'er her country rushes on her heart,
Assumes a bolder note, and fondly tries
To mix the patriot's with the poet's flame.
When the bright Virgin gives the beauteous days,
And Libra weighs in equal scales the year;
From Heaven's high cope the fierce effulgence shook
Of parting Summer, a serener blue,
With golden light enliven'd, wide invests
The happy world. Attemper'd suns arise,
Sweet-beam'd, and shedding oft through lucid clouds
A pleasing calm; while broad, and brown, below
Extensive harvests hang the heavy head.
Rich, silent, deep, they stand; for not a gale
Rolls its light billows o'er the bending plain:
A calm of plenty! till the ruffled air
Falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to blow.
Rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky;
The clouds fly different; and the sudden sun
By fits effulgent gilds the illumined field,
And black by fits the shadows sweep along.
A gaily chequer'd heart-expanding view,
Far as the circling eye can shoot around,
Unbounded tossing in a flood of corn.
These are thy blessings, Industry! rough power!
Whom labour still attends, and sweat, and pain;
Yet the kind source of every gentle art,
And all the soft civility of life:
Raiser of human kind! by Nature cast,
Naked, and helpless, out amid the woods
And wilds, to rude inclement elements;
With various seeds of art deep in the mind

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Didn't Know What Time It Was

Richard Rodgers / Lorenz Hart
Once I was young --
yesterday, perhaps --
danced with Jim and Paul
and kissed some other chaps.
Once I was young,
but never was naive.
I thought I had a trick or two
up my imaginary sleeve.
And now I know I was naive.
REFRAIN
I didn't know what time it was
then I met you.
Oh, what a lovely time it was,
How sublime it was too!
I didn't know what time it was
you hold my hand.
Warm like the month of May it was,
and I'll say it was grand.
Grand to be alive, to be young,
to be mad, to be yours alone!
Grand tosee your face, feel your touch,
hear your voice say I'm all your own.
I didn't know what time it was
live was no prize.
I whanted love and here it was
shining out of your eyes.
I'm wise,
and I know what time it is now.
VERSE 2
Once I was old --
Twenty years or so --
rather well preserved:
the wrinkles did't show.
Once I was old,
but not too old for fun.
I used to hunt for little girls
up my immaginary gun.
But now I ain for only one!
REFRAIN
I didn't know what time it was
then I met you.
Oh, what a lovely time it was,
How sublime it was too!
I didn't know what time it was
you hold my hand.
Warm like the month of May it was,
and I'll say it was grand.
Grand to be alive, to be young,
to be mad, to be yours alone!

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