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Any entertainer who tells you that the adoration of fans is not a heady experience probably never had the experience.

quote by Charley Pride
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Z. Comments

CRYSTAL GLOW

Madhur Veena Comment: Who is she? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ....You write good!

Margaret Alice Comment: Beautiful, it stikes as heartfelt words and touches the heart, beautiful sentiments, sorry, I repeat myself, but I am delighted. Your poem is like the trinkets I collect to adorn my personal space, pure joy to read, wonderful! Only a beautiful mind can harbour such sentiments, you have a beautiful mind. I am glad you have found someone that inspires you to such heights and that you share it with us, you make the world a mroe wonderful place.

Margaret Alice Comment: Within the context set by the previous poem, “Cosmic Probe”, the description of a lover’s adoration for his beloved becomes a universal ode sung to the abstract values of love, joy and hope personified by light, colours, fragrance and beauty, qualities the poet assigns to his beloved, thus elevating her to the status of an uplifting force because she brings all these qualities to his attention. The poet recognises that these personified values brings him fulfilment and chose the image of a love relationship to illustrate how this comes about; thus a love poem becomes the vehicle to convey spiritual epiphany.

FRAGRANT JASMINE

Margaret Alice Comment: Your words seem to be directed to a divine entity, you seem to be addressing your adoration to a divinity, and it is wonderful to read of such sublime sentiments kindled in a human soul. Mankind is always lifted up by their vision and awareness of divinity, thank you for such pure, clear diction and sharing your awareness of the sublime with us, you have uplifted me so much by this vision you have created!

Margaret Alice Comment: The poet’s words seem to be directed to a divine entity, express adoration to a divinity who is the personification of wonderful qualities which awakens a sense of the sublime in the human soul. An uplifting vision and awareness of uplifting qualities of innocence represented by a beautiful person.

I WENT THERE TO BID HER ADIEU

Kente Lucy Comment: wow great writing, what a way to bid farewell

Margaret Alice Comment: Sensory experience is elevated by its symbolical meaning, your description of the scene shows two souls becoming one and your awareness of the importance of tempory experience as a symbol of the eternal duration of love and companionship - were temporary experience only valid for one moment in time, it would be a sad world, but once it is seen as a symbol of eternal things, it becomes enchanting.

I’M INCOMPLETE WITHOUT YOU

Margaret Alice Comment: You elevate the humnan experience of longing for love to a striving for sublimity in uniting with a beloved person, and this poem is stirring, your style of writing is effective, everything flows together perfectly.

Margaret Alice Comment:

'To a resplendent glow of celestial flow
And two split halves unite never to part.'

Reading your fluent poems is a delight, I have to tear myself away and return to the life of a drudge, but what a treasure trove of jewels you made for the weary soul who needs to contemplate higher ideals from time to time!

IN CELESTIAL WINGS

Margaret Alice Comment: When you describe how you are strengthened by your loved one, it is clear that your inner flame is so strong that you need not fear growing old, your spirit seems to become stronger, you manage to convey this impression by your striking poetry. It is a privilege to read your work.

Obed Dela Cruz Comment: wow.... i remembered will shakespeare.... nice poem!

Margaret Alice Comment: The poet has transcended the barriers of time and space by becoming an image of his beloved and being able to find peace in the joy he confers to his beloved.

'You transcend my limits, transcend my soul, I forget my distress in your thoughts And discover my peace in your joy, For, I’m mere image of you, my beloved.'

Margaret Alice Comment: You are my peace and solace, I know, I am, yours too; A mere flash of your thoughts Enlivens my tired soul And fills me with light, peace and solace, A giant in new world, I become, I rise to divine heights in celestial wings. How I desire to reciprocate To fill you with light and inner strength raise you to divine heights; I must cross over nd hold you in arms, light up your soul, Fill you with strength from my inner core, Wipe away your tears burst out in pure joy How I yearn to instill hope and confidence in you we never part And we shall wait, till time comes right. the flame in my soul always seeks you, you transcend my limits, transcend my soul, I forget my distress in your thoughts And discover my peace in your joy, For, I’m mere image of you, my beloved.

RAGING FIRE

[...] Read more

poem by Praveen Kumar
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Every Face Tells A Story

Look at the man in the corner, hes sitting all alone
His blankets are made out of cardboard,
His pillows are made out of stone
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
See the man walking on the water, see the light in his eyes
He came into the world with a message to tell,
He came into the world to die
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Youre always telling stories, youre always telling me lies
Youre always telling stories, why?
So think of yourself in the water, seeing your days flashing by
Its too late to see what you wanted to be,
Youve spent all your time, you must die
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Step down
And make it work out right
Im trying to get to you with my warning
Been there
For nearly half the night
Look its nearly four in the morning

song performed by Cliff Richard
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Dusty Springfield

The music of the Dusty Springfield still lives on,
Even though she, herself, is now dead and gone.
Every day, her songs are played on the airwaves.
About her music, many people still really rave.

When I hear her songs played on the radio,
Deep in my heart, I feel a really warm glow.
To her talent, many artistes still pay tribute.
Many a singer, her style of song, does suit.

She had massive hit after hit over her many years:
The sentiments, of which, still bring me to tears.
If she were still alive today, I think she’d be amazed,
How popular she still is and how much her songs are played.

She was just a normal, ordinary, middle class girl,
Who became one of popular music’s precious pearls.
She never let fame and fortune go to her head.
She chose to remain friendly and down to earth instead.

Her songs are ones which you can sing along to,
And you experience such a feeling of joy when you do.
There are a few songs, for which she’s very well-known,
And, in the world of music, these are set firmly in stone.

One of her most famous songs has to be,
‘You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me.’
‘I Only Want To Be With You’ and ‘Son Of A Preacher Man, ’
Are also really firm favourites amongst her many fans.

When on stage, she really gave it her all,
And always appeared to be having a right ball.
She had a real presence whenever on stage,
And with her audience, she really engaged.

She battled serious illness. She was so very brave,
And over ten years on, her fans still visit her grave.
Whether the day brings bright sunshine or showers,
Fans still make their pilgrimage to bring her flowers.

On ‘Dusty Day’, once a year, her fans come together.
In our hearts, she and her music will live on forever.
An entire day is dedicated to the precious memories of her,
And fans recollections of Dusty, once again, are stirred.

Many of her songs are famous world wide,
And when she passed away, many fans cried.
Her music unites fans from across every nation.
She really was a special lady and a real inspiration.

[...] Read more

poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Battle of Reading Rock

'Before you go, I'll have you know,
that the Lord has said to me
Psalm 91, is just the one,
so read it and you will see.'
'I don't know why', was my reply,
'But Sarah I'm sure you're right'
And off I went, to pitch my tent,
at Reading's Rock Festival site.

It was not clear, how apt and dear,
that Psalm was going to be
until that night, at the festival site,
when Dave was accompanying me.
For God was there, and by His care,
we depended upon His word.
We made our stand, in Satan's land,
and were protected by the Lord.

So off we went, and sighted our tent,
by a busy thoroughfare
hung up the banner, in such a manner,
so all would know we were there.
On the cross we chose, to superimpose,
'This is how much I love you'
and flew it high, there in the sky,
lifting eyes to the heavens so blue.

There in full view, the banner flew,
so God's love the fans might see
But ardent fans, like all pagans,
with its' message did not agree.
On that Sunday, they had their way,
in the darkness of that morn
With curse and frown, they ripped it down,
the banner defiled and torn.

They shouted loud, before the crowd,
'If you are God then hear me'
'For we've no fear, so come down here,
and strike us dead for all to see.'
But God is not disturbed, or in the least perturbed,
by all their rants and rages.
These arrogant fans, with their wicked plans,
will one day get their wages.

[...] Read more

poem by Royston
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The Music Festival

The beat of the music goes THUD! THUD! THUD!
As revellers dance around, ankle deep, in thick, gooey mud.
Bedecked in waterproofs and their designer Wellington boots,
The festival goers are all having themselves a right old hoot.

Famous bands have been booked to headline.
The organisers pray that the weather stays fine.
Revellers of every age – both young and old,
Are wrapped up against the wild wind, so cold.

The fans sway from side to side and wave their hands,
As they sing along at the tops of their voices to the bands.
Some fans are here to see their favourite bands in the flesh,
While others want to check out talent, that’s new and fresh.

Despite the mud, there’s a smile on every face
Of the fans who, each year, flock to this place.
Some girls wear pretty flowers in their hair.
At their heroes on stage, they stand and stare.

The singer on stage, stands and sings famous hit after hit,
As the drummer behind him, bashes away on the drum kit.
Heard are the strains of electro-acoustic and bass guitars.
To be here, many bands and their fans have travelled far.

Everyone really looks forward to this wonderful weekend,
When they can listen to wicked sounds and make new friends.
Fans sing along at the top of the voices, until they croak.
The rain falls down again, and the poor fans get soaked.

Everyone is feeling happy and spirits are riding really high,
Despite the fact, not a single fan has managed to stay very dry.
Girls jump up and down and wildly scream.
Their perfectly made-up faces excitedly beam.

As evening falls and we head on into the inky night,
Mobile phones are held aloft and there’s a sea of light.
By the end of the night, everyone’s feeling drained,
But they’ll return tomorrow, ready to do it all again!

poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Locals Are The Premiers

Above the Local oval for twelve months will fly the Premiership flag
The Locals are the Premiers they can afford to brag
Down at the Footy Club they are celebrating and singing the Club song
The fans are in a party mood they will sing all night long.

The Locals are the Premiers the champion team this year
Their fans are celebrating they will drink heaps of beer
Since the final siren was blown today the fans have sung long and loud
The Local team have won the day and have done themselves proud.

Lets hear it for the Premiers a mighty hip hooray
The local football fans are cheering in this their greatest day
For the winners joy and the losers heartache that's life as some would say
Life has it's good and bad times and it has always been this way.

The local football team are Premiers and their fans celebrate
Two decades since the last flag was won but it was a worth the wait
The town pubs are in a festive mood they will party on all night
And down at the Football Club Rooms the fans whoop in delight.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Experiencia Religiosa (remix)

Un poco de ti para sobrevivir
Esta noche ue viene fria y sola
Un aire de extasis en la ventana
Para vestirme de fiesta y ceremonia
Cada vez que estoy contigo
Yo descubro el infinito
Tiembla el suelo
La noche se ilumina
El silencio se vuelve melodia
Y es casi un
experiencia religiosa
Sentir que resucito si me tocas
Subir al firmamento prendido de tu
cuerpo
es un experiencia religiosa
Casi una experiencia religiosa
Contigo cada instante en cada cosa
Besar la boca tuya merece
un aleluya
Es una experiencia religiosa
Vuelve pronto mi amor
te necesito ya
Porque esta noche tan honda
me da miedo
Necesito la musica de tu alegria
Para callar los demonios que
llevo dentro
Cada vez que estoy contigo
Yo descubro el infinito
Tiembla el suelo
La noche se ilumina
El silencio se vuelve melodia
Y es casi un
experiencia religiosa
Sentir que resucito si me tocas
Subir al firmamento prendido de tu
cuerpo
es un experiencia religiosa
Casi una experiencia religiosa
Contigo cada instante
en cada cosa
Besar la boca tuya merece
un aleluya
Es una experiencia religiosa
Y es casi un
experiencia religiosa
Sentir que resucito si me tocas
Subir al firmamento
prendido de tu cuerpo
Es un experiencia religiosa

[...] Read more

song performed by Enrique Iglesias
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Every Face Tells A Story

(m. allison/p. sills/d. black)
Theres no need for you to tell me
I can see the way you feel
I just know without you saying
What is a lie and whats real
Every face tells a story
Its hard to hide a lie
Every face tells a story
And yours is saying goodbye
Somethings going on, and I know it
You cant keep it from me
Your smile cannot hide what you feel inside
And I dont like what I see
Every face tells a story
Its hard to hide a lie
Every face tells a story
And yours is saying goodbye
Youre always telling stories
Youre always telling me lies
Youre always telling stories
If you want to leave me, leave me
No good living a lie
You can pretend that were not gonna end
But your eyes are saying goodbye
Every face tells a story
Its hard to hide a lie
Every face tells a story
And yours is saying goodbye
Youre always telling stories
Youre always telling me lies
Youre always telling stories
Tell me, I got a right to know
Pour your little heart out to me, baby
You know, you know I dont want to let go
Every face tells a story
Its hard to hide a lie
Every face tells a story
And yours is saying goodbye

song performed by Olivia Newton-John
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Illahi Nama (Book of God)

In the Book of God (Ilahi-nama) 'Attar framed his mystical teachings in various stories that a caliph tells his six sons, who are kings themselves and seek worldly pleasures and power.
The first son is captivated by a virgin princess, and his father tells him the adventures of a beautiful and virtuous woman who attracts several men but miraculously survives their abuse and then forgives them. They acknowledge that carnal desire is necessary to propagate the race but also recognize that passionate love can lead to spiritual love, which can annihilate the soul in the beloved.
Other stories indicate the importance of respecting the lives of other creatures such as ants or dogs. One only thinks oneself better than a dog because of one's dog-like nature.

The second son tells his father that his heart craves magic; but his father warns him against the work of the Devil. A monk tells a shaikh that he has chosen the job of locking up a savage dog inside himself, and he advises the shaikh to lock up anger lest he be changed into a dog. The father suggests that this son ask for something more worthy and tells an anecdote in which Jesus teaches a man the greatest name of God. The man uses it to make bones come alive into a lion, which devours him, leaving his bones. Jesus then says that when a person asks for something unworthy, God does not grant it. Birds and beasts flee from people, because people eat them. God tells Moses to watch his heart when he is alone, to be kind and watch his tongue when he is with people, the road in front when he is walking, and his gullet when he is dining. A saint tells a shaikh that love is never denied to humans, for only the lover knows the true value of the beloved. Another saint warns that unless you pray for protection from negativity (the Devil), you shall not enter the court of God.

The third son of the caliph asks for a cup that could display the whole world. 'Attar concluded a story by saying that Sufism is to rest in patience and forsake all desire for the world, and trust in God means bridling one's tongue and wishing for better things for others than for oneself. This son asks why his father seems to disparage the love of honor and the love of wealth which all seem to possess. The caliph replies that in the crazy prison of the world one can achieve greatness only by devotion. Since one speaks to God through the heart and soul, it is difficult to speak with God of worldly things. The third son asks if he can be allowed to seek power in moderation; but the father still warns that this will place screens between him and God. Each screen created by seeking power will create more screens. One must see both the good and the bad inside and outside oneself to understand how they are connected together. Saints who reach their goal see nothingness in all things, making sugar seem like poison and a rose like thorns. Ayaz advises the conquering sultan Mahmud to leave his self behind since he is better being entirely We. In the last story for his third son, the father says that thousands of arts, mysteries, definitions, commands, prohibitions, orders, and injunctions are founded on the intellect. What cup could be more revealing than this?

The fourth son seeks the water of life, and his father warns him against desire. A wise man considers Alexander the Great the slave of his slave, because the Greek conqueror has submitted to greed and desire, which this wise man controls. If the son cannot have the water of life, he asks for the knowledge that will illuminate his heart. In one story 'Attar concluded that if you are not faithful in love, you are in love only with yourself. The fifth son asks for the ring of Solomon that enables one to communicate with birds and other animals. The Way is summarized as seeing the true road, traveling light, and doing no harm. The father tells this son that he has chosen an earthly kingdom, because he has not heard of the kingdom of the next world. He advises this king that since his sovereignty will not endure not to load the whole world on his shoulders. Why take on the burden of all creation? The caliph suggests that his son practice contentment, which is an eternal kingdom that overshadows even the Sun. When Joseph was thrown into a pit, the angel Gabriel counseled him that it is better to notice a single blemish in yourself than to see a hundred lights of the Unseen.

The sixth son desires to practice alchemy, but his father perceives that he is caught in the snare of greed. Gold is held more tightly by a miser than the rock grips the ore. The son observes that excessive poverty often leads to losing faith, and so he asks God for both the philosopher's stone and for gold; but his father replies that one cannot promote both faith and the world at the same time. In the epilog the poet commented that since he receives his daily bread from the Unseen, he does not have to be the slave of wretched men, and 'Attar concluded this work with the satisfaction that he has perfumed the name of God with his poetry.

poem by Farid ud-Din Attar Abu Hamid bin Abu Bakr Ibrahim
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Nature tells me

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my riches for I am not
much richer than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my beauty for I am not
much beautiful than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my kindness for I am not
much kinder than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my generosity for I am not
much generous than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my logicality for I am not
much logical than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my judiciousness for I am not
much judicious than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my poetic mind for I am not
much poetic than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my prides for I am not
much prouder than her.

poem by Palas kumar Ray
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Abba Undeleted

(b. andersson, b. ulvus)
Scaramouche
(instrumental)
Varfr ska det vara s serist fr, alltid?
N, I england slr det sckert.
N, det knner jag ocks.
Hello everybody this is bjrn
Agnetha
This is benny
r det s svrt att snacka?
Det r svrt det dr med meddelanden.
Summer night city
Money, money, money
Hmm, hmm, do-do-do-do-do
Summer night city
Money, money, money
Hmm-hmm-hmm-hmm
Summer night city
Money, money, money
In the rich mans world
Den gr p band!
Kan det va nåt?
Det tror du va?
Take a chance on me
(instrumental)
Nu g den lngsammare n frut.
Nej. 1-2-3-4.
Det r bra s.
1-2. gr bandet?
Hr r det magnetband som rullar och rullar!!!
Upptakten kan du fixa p nt annat va? nt jttemalle.
1-2.
Du kan dra ner pianot tror jag fr det r vldigt vasst I ronen.
Vasst.
Vasst.
Vldigt miserabel lyssning.
Nu hr jag bara frida I mina lurar!
Och jag hr bara dej!
Det r inget. det var inget. bttre lyssning.
Hrru-hr-du-mej-nu-ra? ? !!
Ja, det r s nert tror jag.
Ja-ja!
Hr du mig? !
Hr du mig?
Det r inte bra allts.
Men det r upp till dig.
Det mste vl du frst vad som r fel.
Tuuuure! jag sjunker!!
N, just det.
Sjunker u? !

[...] Read more

song performed by ABBA
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Voices of the Fans

It is only 38 degrees here in the windy city on this first day of April. If you go by just the weather you can’t even tell that this is the 20th day of spring. Well I know it springs from the sounds my ears hear. Not bees buzzing or birds chirping but the voices of the fan. The fans of America’s greatest past time baseball. The excitement and hope in each fans’ voice as the season begins. Fans Argue with one another but not in anger but in fun defending their team. Every fans a manger and know exactly what their team needs to win. Yeah the weather might make it feel like it is still winter but the voices of the fans lets me know it is spring.

poem by Lore Me34
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Ode to The Scent Of Cinnamon

The heady scent of cinnamon
Upon the opening of the door
The tugging out of memories
From the mind’s musty store

The warm, soft smell of pie crust
Upon the opening of the oven
The revisiting of the memories
The huggin’ and the lovin’

The aromatic aura of apples
Baked with a crispy honeyed glaze
The remembering of the memories
Kitchen memories, happy days

The Smell of hot peach cobbler,
The tantalizing odor of allspice
The callin’ back of the memories
Kitchen memories, warm and nice

Red and white checkered aprons,
Flour dappled, love lined faces
The tearful tug of way old memories
Memorable kitchens, happy places

The heady scent of cinnamon
Upon the opening of the door
Is one of the bestest of my memories
And likely will be… forever more

Ahhh…The heady scent of cinnamon!

poem by David Whalen
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Much Ado About Nothing

If all these great writers
were still alive in these days
I believe they'd be Soccer fans
and write about it in books and plays.
Shakespeare predicts a Winter of Discontent
after watching Coventry City play
performances that are Much Ado About Nothing
and a Comedy of Errors home and away.
Dickens writes about fans Great Expectations
for their team wearing Sky Blue
but alas he forsees a season of Hard Times
if they don't start picking up a point or two.
Victor Hugo says fans are feeling Les Miserables
with shoulders drooped like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame
while Orwell says they'd rather watch Big Brother
or stay in and read his book Animal Farm.
But Shakespeare tells us fans not to fret
he's not really writing off our football team
in fact he predicts a top six finish
because he saw it in a Midsummer Nights Dream!

poem by Kevin Halls
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Empty

Can this be my poem?—this poor fragment
Of bald thought in meanest language dressed!
Can this string of rhymes be my sweet poem?
All its poetry wholly unexpressed!

Does it tell me of the dreams that wandered,
In the silent night-time, through my brain?
Of the woven web of wondrous fancies,
Half of keenest joy and half of pain?

Does it tell me of the awful beauty
That came down to hide this sordid earth?
Does it tell me of the inward crying?—
Of the glory whence it had its birth?

Only as the lamp, all dull and rusted,
Tells me of the flame that is put out,—
Of the shiny hair and happy faces
Lighted, when its radiance streamed about?

Only as this piece of glass, now lying
In the shade beside me, as I sit,
Tells me of the soft hues of the rainbow,
That the morning sunshine gave to it!

Only as this little flask, now smelling
Of the dust and mould with which 'tis lined,
Tells me of the lovely subtle fragrance
Of the perfume that it once enshrined!

Only as a picture, blurred and faded,
Tells me of the bloom of colour there,
When the painter's soul was with his canvas,
And his paint was bright, and fresh, and fair!

Only as the wires and keys—notes broken,
Odd and scattered—tell me of a strain
That once filled my very soul with rapture,
But can never be spelled out again!
Only as a bare brown flower-stalk tells me
Of the delicate blossom that it wore;
Of the humming bees in silken petals,
And the downy butterflies it bore!

Only as a crazy boat, sun-blistered,
Drawn up high and dry upon the sands,
Tells me of the blue and buoyant billows
Bearing breezy sails to foreign lands!

Only as a little dead lark, lying

[...] Read more

poem by Ada Cambridge
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Christmas 2010

Christmas is the time that tells
That God was born a baby boy;
And He was called ‘Emmanuel’
(‘God with us’) , and brought us joy!

Christmas is the time that tells
That love of God was born on earth,
Becoming flesh in virgin’s womb,
Proclaiming the ‘King of Kings’ birth!

Christmas is the time that tells
That Word that was God became man,
And dwelt amongst us for some years,
And suffer in all ways, He can.

Christmas is the time that tells
That peace returned to heart and soul,
And brought back hope to sinners too,
Who aim toward a heavenly goal.

Christmas is the time that tells
That prophecy of birth of Christ
In Scriptures came to be fulfilled,
As angel choirs sang in Highest.

Christmas is the time that tells
That God chose poverty at birth,
To know how tough life on earth is,
And showed how woes can become mirth.

Christmas is the time that tells
That Christ was born to save mankind
From sins of present, future, past,
And peace came back to heart and mind.

Copyright by Dr John Celes 07-12-2010

poem by John Celes
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Visits to St Elizabeths

This is the house of Bedlam.

This is the man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is the time
of the tragic man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a wristwatch
telling the time
of the talkative man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the honored man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is the roadstead all of board
reached by the sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the old, brave man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

These are the years and the walls of the ward,
the winds and clouds of the sea of board
sailed by the sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the cranky man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances weeping down the ward
over the creaking sea of board
beyond the sailor
winding his watch
that tells the time
of the cruel man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a world of books gone flat.
This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances weeping down the ward
over the creaking sea of board
of the batty sailor
that winds his watch

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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I. The Ring and the Book

Do you see this Ring?
'T is Rome-work, made to match
(By Castellani's imitative craft)
Etrurian circlets found, some happy morn,
After a dropping April; found alive
Spark-like 'mid unearthed slope-side figtree-roots
That roof old tombs at Chiusi: soft, you see,
Yet crisp as jewel-cutting. There's one trick,
(Craftsmen instruct me) one approved device
And but one, fits such slivers of pure gold
As this was,—such mere oozings from the mine,
Virgin as oval tawny pendent tear
At beehive-edge when ripened combs o'erflow,—
To bear the file's tooth and the hammer's tap:
Since hammer needs must widen out the round,
And file emboss it fine with lily-flowers,
Ere the stuff grow a ring-thing right to wear.
That trick is, the artificer melts up wax
With honey, so to speak; he mingles gold
With gold's alloy, and, duly tempering both,
Effects a manageable mass, then works:
But his work ended, once the thing a ring,
Oh, there's repristination! Just a spirt
O' the proper fiery acid o'er its face,
And forth the alloy unfastened flies in fume;
While, self-sufficient now, the shape remains,
The rondure brave, the lilied loveliness,
Gold as it was, is, shall be evermore:
Prime nature with an added artistry—
No carat lost, and you have gained a ring.
What of it? 'T is a figure, a symbol, say;
A thing's sign: now for the thing signified.

Do you see this square old yellow Book, I toss
I' the air, and catch again, and twirl about
By the crumpled vellum covers,—pure crude fact
Secreted from man's life when hearts beat hard,
And brains, high-blooded, ticked two centuries since?
Examine it yourselves! I found this book,
Gave a lira for it, eightpence English just,
(Mark the predestination!) when a Hand,
Always above my shoulder, pushed me once,
One day still fierce 'mid many a day struck calm,
Across a Square in Florence, crammed with booths,
Buzzing and blaze, noontide and market-time,
Toward Baccio's marble,—ay, the basement-ledge
O' the pedestal where sits and menaces
John of the Black Bands with the upright spear,
'Twixt palace and church,—Riccardi where they lived,
His race, and San Lorenzo where they lie.

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Sorcerer: Act I

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Sir Marmaduke Pointdextre, an Elderly Baronet

Alexis, of the Grenadier Guards--His Son

Dr. Daly, Vicar of Ploverleigh

John Wellington Wells, of J. W. Wells & Co., Family Sorcerers

Lady Sangazure, a Lady of Ancient Lineage

Aline, Her Daughter--betrothed to Alexis

Mrs. Partlet, a Pew-Opener

Constance, her Daughter

Chorus of Villagers

ACT I -- Grounds of Sir Marmaduke's Mansion, Mid-day

SCENE -- Exterior of Sir Marmaduke's Elizabethan Mansion, mid-day.

CHORUS OF VILLAGERS

Ring forth, ye bells,
With clarion sound--
Forget your knells,
For joys abound.
Forget your notes
Of mournful lay,
And from your throats
Pour joy to-day.

For to-day young Alexis--young Alexis Pointdextre
Is betrothed to Aline--to Aline Sangazure,
And that pride of his sex is--of his sex is to be next her
At the feast on the green--on the green, oh, be sure!

Ring forth, ye bells etc.
(Exeunt the men into house.)

(Enter Mrs. Partlet with Constance, her daughter)

RECITATIVE

MRS. P. Constance, my daughter, why this strange depression?

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poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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A Song to David

Sublime—invention ever young,
Of vast conception, tow'ring tongue
To God th' eternal theme;
Notes from yon exaltations caught,
Unrivall'd royalty of thought
O'er meaner strains supreme.

His muse, bright angel of his verse,
Gives balm for all the thorns that pierce,
For all the pangs that rage;
Blest light still gaining on the gloom,
The more than Michal of his bloom,
Th' Abishag of his age.

He sang of God—the mighty source
Of all things—the stupendous force
On which all strength depends;
From whose right arm, beneath whose eyes,
All period, power, and enterprise
Commences, reigns, and ends.

Tell them, I AM, Jehovah said
To Moses; while earth heard in dread,
And, smitten to the heart,
At once above, beneath, around,
All Nature, without voice or sound,
Replied, O LORD, THOU ART.

The world, the clustering spheres, He made;
The glorious light, the soothing shade,
Dale, champaign, grove, and hill;
The multitudinous abyss,
Where Secrecy remains in bliss,
And Wisdom hides her skill.

The pillars of the Lord are seven,
Which stand from earth to topmost heaven;
His Wisdom drew the plan;
His Word accomplish'd the design,
From brightest gem to deepest mine;
From Christ enthroned, to Man.

For Adoration all the ranks
Of Angels yield eternal thanks,
And David in the midst;
With God's good poor, which, last and least
In man's esteem, Thou to Thy feast,
O blessèd Bridegroom, bidd'st!

For Adoration, David's Psalms

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poem by Christopher Smart
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