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I was very cheap - that's the way I'd always worked.

quote by Pete Waterman
Added by Lucian Velea
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(Angry Poem) Cheap Shot

Cheap shot after cheap shot
Here meet my pet rock
Did I say rock, I met my pet rot
Watch it he bite's
He's not so nice

Cheap shot after cheap shot
Here meet my pet rock
Did I say rock, I met my pet rot
Watch it he bite's
He's not so nice

You think your better them me
Then be instead of dwindling on it
Like it's my fault
Claim to be alone
And then you get stoned
And you wonder why

Cheap shot after cheap shot
Here meet my pet rock
Did I say rock, I met my pet rot
Watch it he bite's

You think your better them me
Then be instead of dwindling on it
Like it's my fault
Claim to be alone
And then you get stoned
And you wonder why

If I was to surmise
I would say your looking for another prize

Cheap shot after cheap shot
Here meet my pet rock
Did I say rock I met my pet rot
Watch it he bite's
He's not so nice

You think your better them me
Then be instead of dwindling on it
Like it's my fault
Claim to be alone
And then you get stoned
And you wonder why

Cheap shot after cheap shot
Here meet my pet rock
Did I say rock, I met my pet rot

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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“Shouting” for a Camel

It was over at Coolgardie that a mining speculator,
Who was going down the township just to make a bit o' chink,
Went off to hire a camel from a camel propagator,
And the Afghan said he'd lend it if he'd stand the beast a drink.
Yes, the only price he asked him was to stand the beast a drink.
He was cheap, very cheap, as the dromedaries go.
So the mining speculator made the bargain, proudly thinking
He had bested old Mahomet, he had done him in the eye.
Then he clambered on the camel, and the while the beast was drinking
He explained with satisfaction to the miners standing by
That 'twas cheap, very cheap, as the dromedaries go.

But the camel kept on drinking and he filled his hold with water,
And the more he had inside him yet the more he seemed to need;
For he drank it by the gallon, and his girths grew taut and tauter,
And the miners muttered softly, 'Yes he's very dry indeed!
But he's cheap, very cheap, as dromedaries go.'

So he drank up twenty buckets -- it was weird to watch him suck it,
(And the market price for water was per bucket half-a-crown)
Till the speculator stopped him, saying, 'Not another bucket --
If I give him any more there'll be a famine in the town.
Take him back to old Mahomet, and I'll tramp it through the town.'
He was cheap, very cheap, as the speculators go.

There's a moral to this story -- in your hat you ought to paste it --
Be careful whom you shout for when a camel is about,
And there's plenty human camels who, before they'll see you waste it,
Will drink up all you pay for if you're fool enough to shout;
If you chance to strike a camel when you're fool enough to shout,
You'll be cheap, very cheap, as the speculators go.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Shouting' For A Camel

It was over at Coolgardie that a mining speculator,
Who was going down the township just to make a bit o' chink,
Went off to hire a camel from a camel propagator,
And the Afghan said he'd lend it if he'd stand the beast a drink.
Yes, the only price he asked him was to stand the beast a drink.
He was cheap, very cheap, as the dromedaries go.

So the mining speculator made the bargain, proudly thinking
He had bested old Mahomet, he had done him in the eye.
Then he clambered on the camel, and the while the beast was drinking
He explained with satisfaction to the miners standing by
That 'twas cheap, very cheap, as the dromedaries go.

But the camel kept on drinking and he filled his hold with water,
And the more he had inside him yet the more he seemed to need;
For he drank it by the gallon, and his girths grew taut and tauter,
And the miners muttered softly, 'Yes he's very dry indeed!
But he's cheap, very cheap, as dromedaries go.'

So he drank up twenty buckets, it was weird to watch him suck it,
(And the market price for water was per bucket half-a-crown)
Till the speculator stopped him, saying, 'Not another busket,
If I give him any more there'll be a famine in the town.
Take him back to old Mahomet, and I'll tramp it through the town.'
He was cheap, very cheap, as the speculators go.

There's a moral to this story, in your hat you ought to paste it,
Be careful whom you shout for when a camel is about,
And there's plenty human camels who, before they'll see you waste it,
Will drink up all you pay for if you're fool enough to shout;
If you chance to strike a camel when you're fool enough to shout,
You'll be cheap, very cheap, as the speculators go.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Cheap An Nasty

(coverdale/vandenberg)
Come on baby...
I get so confused,
But, my heart knows youre one of a kind
Leather an lace, an angels face,
Riding on a one track mind
Youre fully loaded with cruise control,
My four wheels rock with your back seat roll
Youre cheap an nasty,
All you wanna do is give it up, give it up
Cheap an nasty,
Come on an do the dirty with me
I get so excited, babe, when Im invited
To ride in your limousine,
You drive it every day, burn it every night,
I wonder how you keep it so clean
Smooth accelerator, you get me so loose,
You keep your motor running till I run out of juice
Youre cheap an nasty,
All you wanna do is give it up, give it up
Cheap an nasty,
Come on an do the dirty with me
Cheap an nasty
I never knew it could be this way
An I never thought Id ever complain,
But, gimme a second just to catch my breath
Babe, before you do it again
All the boys call your name
Down the wishing well,
Baby, when you go
Youre like a cat out of hell
Youre cheap an nasty,
All you wanna do is give it up, give it up
Cheap an nasty,
All you wanna do is give it up, give it up
Cheap an nasty,
All you wanna do is give it up, give it up
Cheap an nasty,
Come on an do the dirty with me
Come on an do the dirty,
Come on an do the dirty,
Come on an do the dirty with me
Come on an do the dirty with me...

song performed by Whitesnake
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

If youre havin trouble with your high school head
Hes givin you the blues
You wanna graduate but not in is bed [...but not in his debt]
Heres what you gotta do -
Pick up the phone
Im always home
Call me any time
Just ring
36 24 36 hey [36 24 36 8]
I lead a life of crime
Dirty deeds done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and theyre done dirt cheap
You got problems in your life of love
You got a broken heart
(shes) hes double dealin with your best friend
Thats when the teardrops start - fella
Pick up the phone
Im here alone
Or make a social call
Come right in
Forget about him
Well have ourselves a ball
Dirty deeds done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and theyre done dirt cheap
If you got a lady and you want her gone
But you aint got the guts
She keeps naggin at you night and day
Enough to drive you nuts -
Pick up the phone
Leave her alone
Its time you made a stand
For a fee
Im happy to be
Your back door man
Dirty deeds done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and theyre done dirt cheap
Concrete shoes, cyanide, tnt
Done dirt cheap
Neckties, contracts, high voltage
Done dirt cheap

song performed by AC-DC
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Freetrade Rabbit Pie

Ses Cullen, the cockie, he ses to me:
'Now, I puts it to you in this way:
If a feller....(Woah, Ginger! Come over, yeh cow!)....
If a feller sets out fer to say
Where he happens to stand in this politics game,
And to reason the why and the how,
He has got to have somethink to back up the same,
As the sayin' is....(Woah there, yeh cow!)

Ses Cullen, the cockie, e ses to me:
'Well, I reasons it out fer yeh so:
There's this 'ere Pertection an' this 'ere....(Woah Nell!
Come over there, Ginger! Way! Woah!)....
There's this 'ere Pertection an' this 'ere Freetrade,
Which I never 'ave quite understood,
Till I figures it out be the blunders I made
While I scratched fer me own livelihood.

'When first I took up me selection out 'ere
I was votin' Freetrade pretty strong!
An' to live on the cheap was me centril idear,
An' I couldn't see anythink wrong
With livin' on rabbits, fer rabbits was cheap,
As you'll probably quite understand,
Fer, back in that time we was breedin' a heap
On me own, an' the neighborin' land.

'There wus Sanderson had the next selection to me;
He bred mostly rabbits an' debts;
An' Jones, an' McPherson, an' Sandy McGee
Had heaps of the dear little pets.
So I figgers ut out to meself, an' I owns
That this puttin' up fences is rot;
I'd be wantin' the rabbits of Sandy an' Jones
When I'd et up me own little lot.

'So I cleared off a bit an' I sowed down me grass,
An' I lived upon rabbits an' duff,
Which was cheap, you'll allow, but as months came to pass,
I was just about gettin' enough.
I was pinin' fer change, so I reckoned I'd breed
Some sheep an' a bullock or two;
But them dash Freetrade rabbits kep' eatin' the feed
Just as fast as the bloomin' stuff grew!

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Mr. Dana, of the New York Sun

Thar showed up out'n Denver in the spring uv '81
A man who'd worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun.
His name wuz Cantell Whoppers, 'nd he wuz a sight ter view
Ez he walked inter the orfice 'nd inquired fer work ter do.
Thar warn't no places vacant then,--fer be it understood,
That wuz the time when talent flourished at that altitood;
But thar the stranger lingered, tellin' Raymond 'nd the rest
Uv what perdigious wonders he could do when at his best,
Till finally he stated (quite by chance) that he hed done
A heap uv work with Dana on the Noo York Sun.

Wall, that wuz quite another thing; we owned that ary cuss
Who'd worked f'r Mr. Dana must be good enough fer us!
And so we tuk the stranger's word 'nd nipped him while we could,
For if we didn't take him we knew John Arkins would;
And Cooper, too, wuz mouzin' round fer enterprise 'nd brains,
Whenever them commodities blew in across the plains.
At any rate we nailed him, which made ol' Cooper swear
And Arkins tear out handfuls uv his copious curly hair;
But we set back and cackled, 'nd bed a power uv fun
With our man who'd worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun.

It made our eyes hang on our cheeks 'nd lower jaws ter drop,
Ter hear that feller tellin' how ol' Dana run his shop:
It seems that Dana wuz the biggest man you ever saw,--
He lived on human bein's, 'nd preferred to eat 'em raw!
If he hed Democratic drugs ter take, before he took 'em,
As good old allopathic laws prescribe, he allus shook 'em.
The man that could set down 'nd write like Dany never grew,
And the sum of human knowledge wuzn't half what Dana knew;
The consequence appeared to be that nearly every one
Concurred with Mr. Dana of the Noo York Sun.

This feller, Cantell Whoppers, never brought an item in,--
He spent his time at Perrin's shakin' poker dice f'r gin.
Whatever the assignment, he wuz allus sure to shirk,
He wuz very long on likker and all-fired short on work!
If any other cuss had played the tricks he dared ter play,
The daisies would be bloomin' over his remains to-day;
But somehow folks respected him and stood him to the last,
Considerin' his superior connections in the past.
So, when he bilked at poker, not a sucker drew a gun
On the man who 'd worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun.

Wall, Dana came ter Denver in the fall uv '83.
A very different party from the man we thought ter see,--
A nice 'nd clean old gentleman, so dignerfied 'nd calm,
You bet yer life he never did no human bein' harm!
A certain hearty manner 'nd a fulness uv the vest
Betokened that his sperrits 'nd his victuals wuz the best;

[...] Read more

poem by Eugene Field
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Street-Cheap-Meat

You've given me up to boost danger.
A mistake made with a stranger.
Who knocked on your door proposing,
With a cut glass rock and plated gold.

And street-cheap-meat!
Oh...
You've given me up to boost danger.
A mistake made with a stranger.
Who knocked on your door proposing,
With a cut glass rock and plated gold.

Our minds were united,
And tight for a lifetime.
We sought for that right time...
When we'd be together,
Forever and ever.

Our minds were united,
And tight for a lifetime.
We sought for that right time...
When we'd be together,
Forever and ever.

But,
You've given me up to boost danger.
A mistake made with a stranger.
Who knocked on your door proposing,
With a cut glass rock and plated gold.

And street-cheap-meat!
Oh...
Our minds were united,
And tight for a lifetime.
We sought for that right time...
When we'd be together,
Forever and ever.
But you prefer street-cheap-meat.

Our minds were united,
And ripe for that lifetime.
But you prefer street-cheap-meat.

Our minds were united,
And ripe for that lifetime.
But you prefer street-cheap-meat.

Our minds were united,
And ripe for that lifetime.
But you prefer street-cheap-meat.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Aftermath

Now the radio stutters. snaps to life.
Some sour song that sets it right.
And when London falls
He'd like to call
But the stars collide.
They're beautiful and much maligned.
In a universe where you see the worst,
And it's up to you to fix it.
Now you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you want to shout
How you see it all
It's easy to dismiss the "what's it all about" crowd.
There is no doubt. it's this, here, now.
And you close your eyes.
He's not coming back.
So you work it out, overfeed the cat.
And the plants are dry and they need to drink.
So you do your best. and you flood the sink.
Sit down in the kitchen and cry.
Now you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you want to shout
How you see it all
Now the universe left you for a runners lap.
It feels like home when it comes crashing back.
And it makes you laugh
And it makes you cry,
When London falls
And you're still alive.
The radio stutters,
It makes you laugh
And the aftermath,
Open up your eyes.
You're so alive.
Now you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you want to shout
How you see it all
How you've worked it out
And you see it all
How you've worked it out
And you see it all

song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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Don’t be cheap

Buy not a thing because it’s cheap.
Don’t let others make you cheap.
To be greedy is to be cheap.
To be selfish is to be cheap.
To poke your nose is a cheap thing.
Don’t be cheap; better be poor.
23.08.2009

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Talk Is Cheap

(Van Morrison)
Kicked your gift-horse in the teeth
Crowd gathered round in the street
You killed your saviour new one can't be found
Talk is cheap your saviour's highway bound
You read the tabloids every day
They're giving lots of things away
They went to build you up
So they can bring you down
Talk is cheap it's gonna
Could make them a million pounds
Now baby don't put your business on the telephone
Tell your girlfriend just to leave me alone
Tell her to watch her mouth before she talks to anybody anybody
Oh 'cos talk is cheap it comes with the territory
Sometimes it's back-to-front sometimes it's upside down
Put your money where your mouth is when you come around
Backbiters and syndicators walking from chinatown
Oh talk is cheap why don't you lay your money down
Well they say you can't shut up a god damn fool
Ain't no exception to the rule
It's blah, blah, blah, blah
Just like a nursery rhyme
Talk is cheap almost all the time
Alright
Yes, talk is cheap
Almost all the time

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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If We Worked Today...

if we worked today
with equal hands,
with equal hearts,
and with equal backs...
if we worked today
with equal souls,
we'd build a world
worth dying for!

if we worked today
with honest hands,
with honest hearts,
and with honest backs...
if we worked today
with honest souls,
we'd build a world
worth dying for.

if we worked today
with loving hands,
with loving hearts,
and with loving backs...
if we worked today
with loving souls,
we'd build a world
worth living for!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Chatting Today

I worked for the union and on my very first communion, you know,
It never ever, ever, ever worked out right
So I spent the night sleepin on the railway
I worked for the foundry and man my mind it nearly drowned
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
It never, it could never work out right
So I said so long, amigo. good night and slept on the railway
The railway, theres no better way, ooh the railway
And its nice to talk to you today
I worked for the miller, a very, very nice type of fell-a {fellow}
But I could see that it was never gonna work out right
So I split and spent the night sleeping on the railway
I worked in the subway arc, oh yeah, yeah
You know it never, no no never, no never no, ever no, worked out right
So I said so long and spent the night on the railway
The railway, give me a bottle of whiskey, ooh the railway
Ooh, theres nothin like the railway
And Id like to thank someone for mascara and good things that I done
And for the time ya spent and the friendship begun
And most of all starry nights on the railway
Ooh, I dont know no better way
Than just, ooh, lyin back an drifting away
I can hear it, I can hear it

song performed by Thin Lizzy
Added by Lucian Velea
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Chatting Today

I worked for the union and on my very first communion, you know,
It never ever, ever, ever worked out right
So I spent the night sleepin on the railway
I worked for the foundry and man my mind it nearly drowned
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
It never, it could never work out right
So I said so long, amigo. good night and slept on the railway
The railway, theres no better way, ooh the railway
And its nice to talk to you today
I worked for the miller, a very, very nice type of fell-a {fellow}
But I could see that it was never gonna work out right
So I split and spent the night sleeping on the railway
I worked in the subway arc, oh yeah, yeah
You know it never, no no never, no never no, ever no, worked out right
So I said so long and spent the night on the railway
The railway, give me a bottle of whiskey, ooh the railway
Ooh, theres nothin like the railway
And Id like to thank someone for mascara and good things that I done
And for the time ya spent and the friendship begun
And most of all starry nights on the railway
Ooh, I dont know no better way
Than just, ooh, lyin back an drifting away
I can hear it, I can hear it

song performed by Thin Lizzy
Added by Lucian Velea
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Third Book

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

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

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

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

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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On A Seven-Day Diary

Oh I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate and talked and went to sleep.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
from work and ate and slept.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate and watched a show and slept.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate steak and went to sleep.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate and fucked and went to sleep.
Then it was Saturday, Saturday, Saturday!
Love must be the reason for the week!
We went shopping! I saw clouds!
The children explained everything!
I could talk about the main thing!
What did I drink on Saturday night
that lost the first, best half of Sunday?
The last half wasn't worth this 'word.'
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
from work and ate and went to sleep,
refreshed but tired by the weekend.

poem by Alan Dugan
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Two Christmas Eves

I

THE white snow veils the earth's brown face,
Strong frost has bound the veil in place--
Under the wide, clear, dark-blue sky
All choked with snow the hollows lie,
Dead-white the fields--once summer sweet--
And woodlands where we used to meet:
We don't meet now, we never part.
Ever together, heart to heart,
We've worked, lost often, seldom won,
Seen pleasures ended, pains begun,
Have done our best, and faced, we two,
Almost the worst that Fate could do--
Yet not Fate's uttermost of ill,
Since here we are--together still!

For me you left, my dearest, best,
Your girlhood's safe warm sheltered nest;
For me gave up all else that could
Have made your woman-life seem good.
You thought a man's whole heart was worth
Just all the other wealth of earth;
I thought my painter's brush would be
A magic wand for you and me.
What dreams we had of fame and gold,
Of Art-that never could withhold
From me, who loved her so, full powers
To make my love for her serve ours,
To shape and build a palace fair
Of radiant hours, and place you there!
Art turned away her face from us,
And all the dreaming's ended--thus!
Our garret's cold; the wind is keen,
And cuts these rotten boards between.
There is no lock upon the door,
No carpet on the uneven floor,
No curtain to the window where
Through frost-blanched panes the moon's cold stare
Fronts us. She's careless--used to see
This world of ours, and misery!
Why, how you shiver! Oh, my sweet,
How cold your hands are, and your feet!

How hot this face of yours I kiss!
How could our love have led to this?
What devil is there over all
That lets such things as this befall?

[...] Read more

poem by Edith Nesbit
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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.

[...] Read more

poem by Talile Ali
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Chocolate Cake

Not everyone in new york would pay to see andrew lloyd webber
May his trousers fall down as he bows to the queen and the crown
I dont know what tune the orchestra played
But it went by me sickly sentimental
Can I have another piece of chocolate cake
Tammy bakers got a lot on her plate
Can I buy another cheap picasso fake
Andy warhol must be laughing in his grave
The band of the night take you to ethereal heights over dinner
And you wander the streets never reaching the heights that you seek
And the sugar that dripped from the violins bow made the children go crazy
Put a hole in the tooth of a hag
Can I have another piece of chocolate cake
Tammy baker must be losing her faith, yeah
Can I buy another cheap picasso fake
Andy warhol must be laughing in his grave
And dogs are on the road, were all tempting fate
Cars are shooting by with no number plates
And here comes missis hairy legs
I saw elvis presley walk out of a seven eleven
And a woman gave birth to a baby and then bowled 257
Now the excess of fat on your american bones
Will cushion the impact as you sink like a stone
Can I have another piece of chocolate cake
Tammy baker, tammy baker
Can I buy another cheap picasso fake
Cheap picasso, cheap picasso fake
Can I have another piece of chocolate cake
Kathy straker boy could she lose some weight
Can I buy another slice of real estate
Liberace must be laughing in his grave

song performed by Crowded House
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Golden Age

Long ere the Muse the strenuous chords had swept,
And the first lay as yet in silence slept,
A Time there was which since has stirred the lyre
To notes of wail and accents warm with fire;
Moved the soft Mantuan to his silvery strain,
And him who sobbed in pentametric pain;
To which the World, waxed desolate and old,
Fondly reverts, and calls the Age of Gold.

Then, without toil, by vale and mountain side,
Men found their few and simple wants supplied;
Plenty, like dew, dropped subtle from the air,
And Earth's fair gifts rose prodigal as prayer.
Love, with no charms except its own to lure,
Was swiftly answered by a love as pure.
No need for wealth; each glittering fruit and flower,
Each star, each streamlet, made the maiden's dower.
Far in the future lurked maternal throes,
And children blossomed painless as the rose.
No harrowing question `why,' no torturing `how,'
Bent the lithe frame or knit the youthful brow.
The growing mind had naught to seek or shun;
Like the plump fig it ripened in the sun.
From dawn to dark Man's life was steeped in joy,
And the gray sire was happy as the boy.
Nature with Man yet waged no troublous strife,
And Death was almost easier than Life.
Safe on its native mountains throve the oak,
Nor ever groaned 'neath greed's relentless stroke.
No fear of loss, no restlessness for more,
Drove the poor mariner from shore to shore.
No distant mines, by penury divined,
Made him the sport of fickle wave or wind.
Rich for secure, he checked each wish to roam,
And hugged the safe felicity of home.

Those days are long gone by; but who shall say
Why, like a dream, passed Saturn's Reign away?
Over its rise, its ruin, hangs a veil,
And naught remains except a Golden Tale.
Whether 'twas sin or hazard that dissolved
That happy scheme by kindly Gods evolved;
Whether Man fell by lucklessness or pride,-
Let jarring sects, and not the Muse, decide.
But when that cruel Fiat smote the earth,
Primeval Joy was poisoned at its birth.
In sorrow stole the infant from the womb,
The agëd crept in sorrow to the tomb.
The ground, so bounteous once, refused to bear
More than was wrung by sower, seed, and share.

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Austin
Added by Poetry Lover
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