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Anna Quindlen

If you want something, it will elude you. If you do not want something, you will get ten of it in the mail.

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Fanmail

Welcome
Weve dedicated our entire album cover
To any person who has ever sent us fan mail
This is a journey into life love
And the future of music fan mail
Tlc would like to thank you
For your support fan mail
And just like you
They get lonely too
Just like you
I get lonely too
Ahhhhhhhhh fan mail
Ahhhhhhhhh fan mail
Ahhhhhhhhh fan mail
Just like you
I get lonely too
Ahhhhhhhhh fan mail
Ahhhhhhhhh fan mail
Ahhhhhhhhh fan mail
Just like you
I get lonely waited for you for so long
Too many days since january
Im still sittin miss alone
We shoulda did this already
Said I got an e mail today
Kinda thought that youd forgot about me
So I wanna hit you back to say chorus
Just like you
I get lonely baby
I could really get to know you
Take my time to show you
Dont tell anybody what we do
When I get lonely take me
To another place where Ill be
Into space just you and me
With no rules
Just like you
I get lonely too
Just like you fan mail
Ahhhhhhhhh
Just like you fan mail
Ahhhhhhhhh
Just like you fan mail
Ahhhhhhhhh
Just like you
I get lonely too
Ahhhhhhhhh
Just like you fan mail
Ahhhhhhhhh
Just like you fan mail

[...] Read more

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Orlando Furioso Canto 20

ARGUMENT
Guido and his from that foul haunt retire,
While all Astolpho chases with his horn,
Who to all quarters of the town sets fire,
Then roving singly round the world is borne.
Marphisa, for Gabrina's cause, in ire
Puts upon young Zerbino scathe and scorn,
And makes him guardian of Gabrina fell,
From whom he first learns news of Isabel.

I
Great fears the women of antiquity
In arms and hallowed arts as well have done,
And of their worthy works the memory
And lustre through this ample world has shone.
Praised is Camilla, with Harpalice,
For the fair course which they in battle run.
Corinna and Sappho, famous for their lore,
Shine two illustrious light, to set no more.

II
Women have reached the pinnacle of glory,
In every art by them professed, well seen;
And whosoever turns the leaf of story,
Finds record of them, neither dim nor mean.
The evil influence will be transitory,
If long deprived of such the world had been;
And envious men, and those that never knew
Their worth, have haply hid their honours due.

III
To me it plainly seems, in this our age
Of women such is the celebrity,
That it may furnish matter to the page,
Whence this dispersed to future years shall be;
And you, ye evil tongues which foully rage,
Be tied to your eternal infamy,
And women's praises so resplendent show,
They shall, by much, Marphisa's worth outgo.

IV
To her returning yet again; the dame
To him who showed to her such courteous lore,
Refused not to disclose her martial name,
Since he agreed to tell the style be bore.
She quickly satisfied the warrior's claim;
To learn his title she desired so sore.
'I am Marphisa,' the virago cried:
All else was known, as bruited far and wide.

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Kitty McCrae - A Galloping Rhyme

The Western sun, ere he sought his lair,
Skimm’d the treetops, and glancing thence,
Rested awhile on the curling hair
Of Kitty McCrae, by the boundary fence;
Her eyes looked anxious, her cheeks were pale,
For father was two hours late with the mail.

Never before had he been so late,
And Kitty wondered and wished him back,
Leaning athwart the big swing gate
That opens out on the bridle-track,
A tortuous path that sidled down
From the single street of a mining town.

With her raven curls and her saucy smile,
Brown eyes that glow with a changeful light,
Tenderly trembling all the while
Like a brace of stars on the breast of night,
Where could you find in the light of day
A bonnier lassie than Kitty McCrae?

Born in the saddle, this girl could ride
Like the fearless queen of the silver bow;
And nothing that ever was lapped in hide
Could frighten Kitty McCrae, I trow.
She would wheel a mob in the hour of need
If the Devil himself were in the lead.

But now, in the shadows’ deepening
When the last sun-spark had ceas’d to burn,
Afar she catches the sullen ring
Of horse-hoofs swinging around the turn,
Then painfully down the narrow trail
Comes Alex McCrae with the Greytown mail.

"The fever-and-ague, my girl," he said,
"'Twas all I got on that northern trip,
When it left me then I was well-nigh dead,
Has got me fast in its iron grip;
And I'd rather rot in the nearest gaol
Than ride to-night with the Greytown mail.

"At Golden Gully they heard to-day -
'Twas a common topic about the town -
That the Mulligan gang were around this way,
So they wouldn't despatch the gold-dust down,
And Brown, the manager, said he thought
'Twere wise to wait for a strong escort.

"I rode the leaders, the other nags

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Ten Minutes Aint Enough

Ten minutes aint enough,
No!
To have my needs satisfactorily pleased.
Ten minutes aint enough.

Ten minutes aint enough!

Ten minutes aint enough,
No!
To know what I want before it leaves.
Ten minutes aint enough.

Ten minutes aint enough!

There has to be a bit of teased acquaintance.
With a chat that sits.
There has to be a bit of teased acquaintance.
With eyes that are fixed.
And not drifting.

Ten minutes aint enough,
No!
To have my needs satisfactorily pleased.
Ten minutes aint enough.

Ten minutes aint enough!

Ten minutes aint enough,
No!
To know what I want before it leaves.
Ten minutes aint enough.

Ten minutes aint enough!

Some may wish a quick...
Beginning that swiftly ends.
With nothing to explore.
But an exit out a door!

Ten minutes aint enough,
No!
To know what I want before it leaves.
Ten minutes aint enough.

Ten minutes aint enough!

There has to be a bit of teased acquaintance.
With a chat that sits.
There has to be a bit of teased acquaintance.
With eyes that are fixed.

[...] Read more

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Orlando Furioso Canto 19

ARGUMENT
Medoro, by Angelica's quaint hand,
Is healed, and weds, and bears her to Catay.
At length Marphisa, with the chosen band,
After long suffering, makes Laiazzi's bay.
Guido the savage, bondsman in the land,
Which impious women rule with civil sway,
With Marphisa strives in single fight,
And lodges her and hers at full of night.

I
By whom he is beloved can no one know,
Who on the top of Fortune's wheel is seated;
Since he, by true and faithless friends, with show
Of equal faith, in glad estate is greeted.
But, should felicity be changed to woe,
The flattering multitude is turned and fleeted!
While he who loves his master from his heart,
Even after death performs his faithful part.

II
Were the heart seen as is the outward cheer,
He who at court is held in sovereign grace,
And he that to his lord is little dear,
With parts reversed, would fill each other's place;
The humble man the greater would appear,
And he, now first, be hindmost in the race.
But be Medoro's faithful story said,
The youth who loved his lord, alive or dead.

III
The closest path, amid the forest gray,
To save himself, pursued the youth forlorn;
But all his schemes were marred by the delay
Of that sore weight upon his shoulders born.
The place he knew not, and mistook the way,
And hid himself again in sheltering thorn.
Secure and distant was his mate, that through
The greenwood shade with lighter shoulders flew.

IV
So far was Cloridan advanced before,
He heard the boy no longer in the wind;
But when he marked the absence of Medore,
It seemed as if his heart was left behind.
'Ah! how was I so negligent,' (the Moor
Exclaimed) 'so far beside myself, and blind,
That I, Medoro, should without thee fare,
Nor know when I deserted thee or where?'

[...] Read more

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King Solomon And The Queen Of Sheba

(A Poem Game.)

“And when the Queen of Sheba heard of the fame of Solomon, . . .
she came to prove him with hard questions.”


[The men’s leader rises as he sees the Queen unveiling
and approaching a position that gives her half of the stage.]

Men’s Leader: The Queen of Sheba came to see King Solomon.
[He bows three times.]
I was King Solomon,
I was King Solomon,
I was King Solomon.

[She bows three times.]
Women’s Leader: I was the Queen,
I was the Queen,
I was the Queen.

Both Leaders: We will be king and queen,
[They stand together stretching their hands over the land.]
Reigning on mountains green,
Happy and free
For ten thousand years.

[They stagger forward as though carrying a yoke together.]
Both Leaders: King Solomon he had four hundred oxen.

Congregation: We were the oxen.

[Here King and Queen pause at the footlights.]
Both Leaders: You shall feel goads no more.
[They walk backward, throwing off the yoke and rejoicing.]
Walk dreadful roads no more,
Free from your loads
For ten thousand years.

[The men’s leader goes forward, the women’s leader dances round him.]
Both Leaders: King Solomon he had four hundred sweethearts.

[Here he pauses at the footlights.]
Congregation: We were the sweethearts.

[He walks backward. Both clap their hands to the measure.]
Both Leaders: You shall dance round again,
You shall dance round again,
Cymbals shall sound again,
Cymbals shall sound again,
[The Queen appears to gather wildflowers.]

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The Booker Washington Trilogy

I. A NEGRO SERMON:—SIMON LEGREE

(To be read in your own variety of negro dialect.)


Legree's big house was white and green.
His cotton-fields were the best to be seen.
He had strong horses and opulent cattle,
And bloodhounds bold, with chains that would rattle.
His garret was full of curious things:
Books of magic, bags of gold,
And rabbits' feet on long twine strings.
But he went down to the Devil.

Legree he sported a brass-buttoned coat,
A snake-skin necktie, a blood-red shirt.
Legree he had a beard like a goat,
And a thick hairy neck, and eyes like dirt.
His puffed-out cheeks were fish-belly white,
He had great long teeth, and an appetite.
He ate raw meat, 'most every meal,
And rolled his eyes till the cat would squeal.

His fist was an enormous size
To mash poor niggers that told him lies:
He was surely a witch-man in disguise.
But he went down to the Devil.

He wore hip-boots, and would wade all day
To capture his slaves that had fled away.
But he went down to the Devil.

He beat poor Uncle Tom to death
Who prayed for Legree with his last breath.
Then Uncle Tom to Eva flew,
To the high sanctoriums bright and new;
And Simon Legree stared up beneath,
And cracked his heels, and ground his teeth:
And went down to the Devil.

He crossed the yard in the storm and gloom;
He went into his grand front room.
He said, "I killed him, and I don't care."
He kicked a hound, he gave a swear;
He tightened his belt, he took a lamp,
Went down cellar to the webs and damp.
There in the middle of the mouldy floor
He heaved up a slab, he found a door —
And went down to the Devil.

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E-mail My Heart

Forever...
Its been hours
Seems like days
Since you went away
And all I do is check the screen
To see if youre okay
You dont answer when I phone
Guess you wanna be left alone
So Im sending you my heart my soul
And this is what Ill say
Im sorry
Oh so sorry cant you give me one more chance
To make it all up to you
E-mail my heart
And say our love will never die (and I)
I know youre out there
And I know that you still care (I know you care)
E-mail me back and say our love will stay alive
Forever...e-mail my heart
I can see you in my mind
Coming on the line
And opening this letter
That Ive sent a hundred times
Heres a picture of us two (us two)
I look so good on you (on you)
And cant you please forgive me
For the hurt I put you through
Im sorry
Oh so sorry cant you give me one more chance
To make it all up to you
E-mail my heart
And say our love will never die (and I)
I know youre out there
And I know that you still care (I know you care)
E-mail me back and say our love will stay alive
Forever...e-mail my heart
Im sorry
Oh so sorry cant you give me one more chance
To make it all up to you
E-mail my heart
And say our love will never die (and I)
I know youre out there
And I know that you still care (I know you care)
E-mail me back and say our love will stay alive
Forever...e-mail my heart
Forever...e-mail my
Forever...e-mail my heart

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I Wont Be the 'Chief of Relief

Did you get my letter in the mail,
Saying I wont bail out your failure.
Did you get my letter in the mail?
You shoulda got it without fail.

Did you get my letter in the mail,
Saying I wont bail out your failure.
Did you get my letter in the mail?
You shoulda got it without fail.

No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
For your reach outs when your grieving.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
To be there only when you need me!

No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
For your reach outs when your grieving.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
To be there only when you need me!

Did you get my letter in the mail,
Saying I wont bail out your failure.
Did you get my letter in the mail?
You shoulda got it without fail.

Did you get my letter in the mail,
Saying I wont bail out your failure.
Did you get my letter in the mail?
You shoulda got it without fail.

No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
For your reach outs when your grieving.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
To be there only when you need me!

No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
For your reach outs when your grieving.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
To be there only when you need me!

The time has gone,
To sing that same old song!

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10,000 Men

Ten thousand men on a hill,
Ten thousand men on a hill,
Some of m goin down, some of m gonna get killed.
Ten thousand men dressed in oxford blue,
Ten thousand men dressed in oxford blue,
Drummin in the morning, in the evening theyll be coming for you.
Ten thousand men on the move,
Ten thousand men on the move,
None of them doing nothin that your mama wouldnt disapprove.
Ten thousand men digging for silver and gold,
Ten thousand men digging for silver and gold,
All clean shaven, all coming in from the cold.
Hey! who could your lover be?
Hey! who could your lover be?
Let me eat off his head so you can really see!
Ten thousand women all dressed in white,
Ten thousand women all dressed in white,
Standin at my window wishing me goodnight.
Ten thousand men looking so lean and frail,
Ten thousand men looking so lean and frail,
Each one of em got seven wives, each one of em just out of jail.
Ten thousand women all sweepin my room,
Ten thousand women all sweepin my room,
Spilling my buttermilk, sweeping it up will a broom.
Ooh, baby, thank you for my tea!
Baby, thank you for my tea!
Its so sweet of you to be so nice to me.

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Sunday at Hampstead

I

(AN VERY IDLE IDYLL BY A VERY HUMBLE MEMBER OF THE GREAT AND NOBLE LONDON MOB.)

This is the Heath of Hampstead,
This is the Dome of Saint Paul’s;
Beneath, on the serried house-tops,
A chequered luster falls:

And the might city of London,
Under the clouds and the light,
Seems a low, wet beach, half shingle,
With a few sharp rocks upright.

Here we sit, my darling,
And dream an hour away:
The donkeys are hurried and worried,
But we are not donkeys to-day:

Through all the weary week, dear,
We toil in the murk down there,
Tied to a desk and a counter,
A patient, stupid pair!

But on Sunday we slip our thether,
And away from the smoke and the smirch;
Too grateful to God for His Sabbath
To shut its hours in a church.

Away to the green, green country,
Under the open sky;
Where the earth’s sweet breath is incense
And the lark sings psalms on high.

On Sunday we’re Lord and Lady,
With ten times the love and glee
Of those pale, languid rich ones
Who are always and never free.

The drawl and stare and simper,
So fine and cold and staid,
Like exquisite waxwork figures
That must be kept in the shade.

We can laugh out loud when merry,
We can romp at kiss-in-the-ring,
We can take our beer at a public,
We can loll on the grass and sing.

Would you grieve very much, my darling,

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Ten

ten is my lucky number
ten is the number that i assign
to a poem for
my day
ten is perfect
ten is one and zero
ten is a pillar and a moon
ten is
an exercise of that little child
ten is my count
of when things must end
ten is the number of sheep
in my dream
ten is not eleven
ten with another moon
becomes a
hundred
whatever you think of me
i rate myself
a ten
that is a matter of
personal decision
and if you die because of envy
it is because
ten has always been my favorite
number
even if i wallow
in my own
stupidity, i still cling to ten
because i am not yet perfect
and would soon
become one
Oh God, where are you?

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The Lord of the Isles: Canto VI.

I.
O who, that shared them, ever shall forget
The emotions of the spirit-rousing time,
When breathless in the mart the couriers met,
Early and late, at evening and at prime;
When the loud cannon and the merry chime
Hail'd news on news, as field on field was won,
When Hope, long doubtful, soar'd at length sublime,
And our glad eyes, awake as day begun,
Watch'd Joy's broad banner rise, to meet the rising sun!
O these were hours, when thrilling joy repaid
A long, long course of darkness, doubts, and fears!
The heart-sick faintness of the hope delay'd,
The waste, the woe, the bloodshed, and the tears,
That track'd with terror twenty rolling years,
All was forgot in that blithe jubilee!
Her downcast eye even pale Affliction rears,
To sigh a thankful prayer, amid the glee,
That hail'd the Despot's fall, and peace and liberty!

Such news o'er Scotland's hills triumphant rode,
When 'gainst the invaders turn'd the battle's scale,
When Bruce's banner had victorious flow'd
O'er Loudoun's mountain, and in Ury's vale;
And fiery English blood oft deluged Douglas-dale,
And fiery Edward routed stout St. John,
When Randolph's war-cry swell'd the southern gale,
And many a fortress, town, and tower, was won,
And fame still sounded forth fresh deeds of glory done.

II.
Blithe tidings flew from baron's tower,
To peasant's cot, to forest-bower,
And waked the solitary cell,
Where lone Saint Bride's recluses dwell.
Princess no more, fair Isabel,
A vot'ress of the order now,
Say, did the rule that bid thee wear
Dim veil and wollen scapulare,
And reft thy locks of dark-brown hair,
That stern and rigid vow,
Did it condemn the transport high,
Which glisten'd in thy watery eye,
When minstrel or when palmer told
Each fresh exploit of Bruce the bold?-
And whose the lovely form, that shares
Thy anxious hopes, thy fears, thy prayers?
No sister she of convent shade;
So say these locks in lengthen'd braid,
So say the blushes and the sighs,

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Pony Express

(Written by: Teddy Gentry, Ken Lambert,
Buddy Cannon, Dean Dillon)
He came in and sit down at the end of the bar
His old rawhide shirt full of dust
He asked for a glass and he ordered rye whiskey
He talked to himself and he cussed
He left Sacramento early that morning
With a sackful of mail for St. Joe
Had to outrun some outlaws outside Carson City
By riding where they wouldn't go
He said to me,"Mister, this long riding's hell
But I guess it's got to be done
Otherwise how would you get all your mail
If the pony express couldn't run?"
I said, "I hear you, mister and you do your job well
But I hear it won't be for long
They'll be sending the mail by the wire and the rail
And your pony and you will be gone
--- Instrumental ---
He came in and sit down at the end of the bar
His coveralls covered with dust
He said Jesse James had just held up his train
He talked to himself and he cussed
He pulled out of St. Joe early that morning
With the mail and the union payroll
Had to stop for a rockslide outside Jackson City
And Jesse made off with the gold
He said to me, "Mister, this railroading's hell
But I guess it's got to be done
Otherwise how would you get all you mail
If that old iron horse couldn't run?"
I said, "I hear you,mister and you do your job well
But I hear it won't be for long
They'll be sending the mail without you or the rail
'Cause they say man will fly before long."
--- Instrumental ---
He came in and sit down at the end of the bar
His face looked all haggard and grey
He ordered a drink and said, "Make it a double
Boys it's sure been a long day."
He pulled out of Denver early that morning
He said, "You'll never guess where I've been
A highjacker needed a lift down to Cuba
So your mail will be late getting in."
I said, "I hear you, mister and you do your job well
But you know it ain't been that long
They were doing it best with the pony express
Before you and your friends came along."
--- Instrumental to fade ---

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E-Mail

Communication's never been
as easy as today
and it would make me happy
when you've gone so far away
if you'd send me an e-mail
that says 'I love you'
Send me an e-mail
that says 'I love you'
Now time and distance
melt away
No digital delay
And some things
can be written down
that we're too shy to say
Send me an e-mail
that says 'I love you'
Send me an e-mail
that says 'I love you'
There may be other
temptations in your life
Don't want to add more
complications to your life
but I'm sending this e-mail
to say 'I love you'
Now there's a ghost
within this house
You're haunting me tonight
I'm looking at some photographs
and thinking that I might
jump on a plane
and surprise you where
you are
but do you want me there?
I'm so insecure
but one thing would make me sure
if you'd
send me an e-mail
that says 'I love you'
Send me an e-mail
that says 'I love You'

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His Call

That evening
I sat down to write
My very last mail
To him.

And while I was writing
I could feel
My aching heart
Throbbing so loud
I could hear
Every beat of it
Pulsating with pain.

And still I kept writing
My very last mail
To him.
Though my eyes
Felt blurred
With all the tears
That rushed asunder
Streaming through my cheeks
And yet I brushed them aside
And wrote
My very last mail to him.

And when I had done
All the writing
I took a long, last look
At that letter of mine
Re-reading every word of it
That I had written to him
With all my heart...

Those precious moments
Were so endearing to me
For I felt that
Once this mail goes
I won't be able to
Write to him anymore
No more of those
Diary mails of mine
I used to write to him
Everyday.

For I had made a Promise
Never to go back
To him.
And that promise I had made
To him and to myself
With all the pain

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Part I

"That oblong book's the Album; hand it here!
Exactly! page on page of gratitude
For breakfast, dinner, supper, and the view!
I praise these poets: they leave margin-space;
Each stanza seems to gather skirts around,
And primly, trimly, keep the foot's confine,
Modest and maidlike; lubber prose o'er-sprawls
And straddling stops the path from left to right.
Since I want space to do my cipher-work,
Which poem spares a corner? What comes first?
'Hail, calm acclivity, salubrious spot!'
(Open the window, we burn daylight, boy!)
Or see—succincter beauty, brief and bold—
'If a fellow can dine On rumpsteaks and port wine,
He needs not despair Of dining well here—'
'Here!' I myself could find a better rhyme!
That bard's a Browning; he neglects the form:
But ah, the sense, ye gods, the weighty sense!
Still, I prefer this classic. Ay, throw wide!
I'll quench the bits of candle yet unburnt.
A minute's fresh air, then to cipher-work!
Three little columns hold the whole account:
Ecarté, after which Blind Hookey, then
Cutting-the-Pack, five hundred pounds the cut.
'Tis easy reckoning: I have lost, I think."

Two personages occupy this room
Shabby-genteel, that's parlor to the inn
Perched on a view-commanding eminence;
———— -Inn which may be a veritable house
Where somebody once lived and pleased good taste
Till tourists found his coign of vantage out,
And fingered blunt the individual mark
And vulgarized things comfortably smooth.
On a sprig-pattern-papered wall there brays
Complaint to sky Sir Edwin's dripping stag;
His couchant coast-guard creature corresponds;
They face the Huguenot and Light o' the World.
Grim o'er the mirror on the mantlepiece,
Varnished and coffined, Salmo ferox glares
—Possibly at the List of Wines which, framed
And glazed, hangs somewhat prominent on peg.

So much describes the stuffy little room—
Vulgar flat smooth respectability:
Not so the burst of landscape surging in,
Sunrise and all, as he who of the pair
Is, plain enough, the younger personage
Draws sharp the shrieking curtain, sends aloft
The sash, spreads wide and fastens back to wall

[...] Read more

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Breathing-Time

Peace, perfect peace. . . . Come, lay aside your gun.
The danger zone is past; the gauntlet run.
The bark of Scylla ceases on her shore,
And grim Charybdis threatens us no more.
Respite, Nepenthe, leaning-posts and beer!
Football and horses! Breathing time is here!


O witless fools, who, with your cry, 'To Arms!'
Your warnings venomous, and false alarms,
Sought to estrange us from our yellow friends,
Thus all your potter and your bunkum ends!
We are secure once more; we breathe again.
No further need is there for ships or men.
'The Treaty is renewed!' Hip, Hip, Hooray! . . .
Now let us dream the happy hours away.


One pen-stroke! and our liberty appears
Secure again, for ten long, blissful years.
A diplomat or two, a little ink,
Some paper, and, Hi Presto! in a wink,
The Yellow Peril vanishes from sight,
Like vague dream shadows of a restless night.
Let gentleness and peace overspread the land;
And bid our infant warriors disband.


The War-god broods o'er Europe even yet?
What matter? We've a decade to forget
That e'er we dreamed we heard the grim dogs bark.
What child at noon is fearful of the dark?
The forges of the nations still are lit?
Their anvils ring? What do we reek of it?
With ten long years of peace and joy and light,
We laugh at our vague terrors of the night.


Are truces ever broken? Treaties scorned?
Statesmen corrupted? Diplomats suborned?
Perish the thought! What if, in some far day,
Some foreswom nation flung its bond away?
Shall we, for such as that, forego our joy,
And start at shadows, like a frightened boy?
Shall croaking pessimists, with mild alarms,
Force us, all needlessly, to fly to arms?


Down with the dolts who prate of ships and guns!
Stern Mars shall not enslave Australia's sons.

[...] Read more

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
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Woman has no sexual revenge.

Nine out of ten loved not their men.
Nine out of ten found better men.
Nine out of ten still stayed pure.
Nine out of ten feared for shame.

Ten out of ten are adulterated men.
Ten out of ten spied their woman.
Nine out of ten were not revenged.
How fortunate the nine men are!
06.09.2003

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
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Ten Days Of Rain

(r. stewart, k. savigar, t. brock)
The wind cries on the boardwalk
Oh god, its cold tonight
Somewhere in the city
Someones holding her tight
Hes telling her shes beautiful
Touching her long blond hair
Hes found out all the secrets
We swore wed never share
Oh, it drives me crazy
To think of her with him
Come back, baby
Come back home again
Chorus:
Ten days of rain
Ten days of rain
My heart is filled with pain
Will she ever come back again?
Ten days of rain
She said Im tired of talking
Trying to get it through to you
You never tell me you love me
Thats all I want you to do
I thought we had a future
Something to hold on to
We even talked of children
Something I never do
She loved me like no other
She held me like a child
Come back baby, come back home again
Chorus
The thought of her still haunts me
Her voice is everywhere
Ten days of rain
Ten days of rain
I can hear the freight train whistle
I can hear the church bells toll
But telephone line, when its off the hook
Thats the loneliest sound of em all
In the letter that she wrote me
Before she went away
She said darling, always remember
Love aint a hard word to say
Ten days of rain
Ten days of rain, such pain
Will she ever come back again
I dont know, I dont know
Come back baby, Im so lonely baby
Ten days of rain, ten days of rain
Is it raining all, raining all

[...] Read more

song performed by Rod StewartReport problemRelated quotes
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