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Friendship is essentially a partnership.

quote by Aristotle
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Courtship of Miles Standish, The

I
MILES STANDISH

In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims
To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,
Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovan leather,
Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain.
Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him, and pausing
Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare,
Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber, --
Cutlass and corselet of steel, and his trusty sword of Damascus,
Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystical Arabic sentence,
While underneath, in a corner, were fowling-piece, musket, and matchlock.
Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,
Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;
Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already
Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.
Near him was seated John Alden, his friend and household companion,
Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine by the window:
Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion,
Having the dew of his youth, and the beauty thereof, as the captives
Whom Saint Gregory saw, and exclaimed, "Not Angles, but Angels."
Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the Mayflower.

Suddenly breaking the silence, the diligent scribe interrupting,
Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth.
"Look at these arms," he said, "the war-like weapons that hang here
Burnished and bright and clean, as if for parade or inspection!
This is the sword of Damascus I fought with in Flanders; this breastplate,
Well I remember the day! once save my life in a skirmish;
Here in front you can see the very dint of the bullet
Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish arcabucero.
Had it not been of sheer steel, the forgotten bones of Miles Standish
Would at this moment be mould, in their grave in the Flemish morasses."
Thereupon answered John Alden, but looked not up from his writing:
"Truly the breath of the Lord hath slackened the speed of the bullet;
He in his mercy preserved you, to be our shield and our weapon!"
Still the Captain continued, unheeding the words of the stripling:
"See, how bright they are burnished, as if in an arsenal hanging;
That is because I have done it myself, and not left it to others.
Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage;
So I take care of my arms, as you of your pens and your inkhorn.
Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, invincible army,
Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest and his matchlock,
Eighteen shillings a month, together with diet and pillage,
And, like Caesar, I know the name of each of my soldiers!"
This he said with a smile, that danced in his eyes, as the sunbeams
Dance on the waves of the sea, and vanish again in a moment.
Alden laughed as he wrote, and still the Captain continued:
"Look! you can see from this window my brazen howitzer planted

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Courtship of Miles Standish

I
MILES STANDISH

In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims
To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,
Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovan leather,
Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain.
Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him, and pausing
Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare,
Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber, --
Cutlass and corselet of steel, and his trusty sword of Damascus,
Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystical Arabic sentence,
While underneath, in a corner, were fowling-piece, musket, and matchlock.
Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,
Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;
Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already
Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.
Near him was seated John Alden, his friend and household companion,
Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine by the window:
Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion,
Having the dew of his youth, and the beauty thereof, as the captives
Whom Saint Gregory saw, and exclaimed, "Not Angles, but Angels."
Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the Mayflower.

Suddenly breaking the silence, the diligent scribe interrupting,
Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth.
"Look at these arms," he said, "the war-like weapons that hang here
Burnished and bright and clean, as if for parade or inspection!
This is the sword of Damascus I fought with in Flanders; this breastplate,
Well I remember the day! once save my life in a skirmish;
Here in front you can see the very dint of the bullet
Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish arcabucero.
Had it not been of sheer steel, the forgotten bones of Miles Standish
Would at this moment be mould, in their grave in the Flemish morasses."
Thereupon answered John Alden, but looked not up from his writing:
"Truly the breath of the Lord hath slackened the speed of the bullet;
He in his mercy preserved you, to be our shield and our weapon!"
Still the Captain continued, unheeding the words of the stripling:
"See, how bright they are burnished, as if in an arsenal hanging;
That is because I have done it myself, and not left it to others.
Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage;
So I take care of my arms, as you of your pens and your inkhorn.
Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, invincible army,
Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest and his matchlock,
Eighteen shillings a month, together with diet and pillage,
And, like Caesar, I know the name of each of my soldiers!"
This he said with a smile, that danced in his eyes, as the sunbeams
Dance on the waves of the sea, and vanish again in a moment.
Alden laughed as he wrote, and still the Captain continued:
"Look! you can see from this window my brazen howitzer planted

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Friendship

Friendship

Friendship is love,
Without friendship love means nothing!
Without friendship love is empty…
Without friendship love is boring...!

Friendship means sharing…
People learn to share from friendship,
Share everything they have in life,

Friendship is like stars,
Even though we always see them together
Always mean to each other…
But,
Sometimes they argue!

Friendship is like flower,
Soft but strong!
Friendship is like sun,
Bright and beautiful!

Friendship is everything in life,
Life without friendship is like life without air…
Life without friendship is like eats without food
And
Life without friendship is like body without soul…

Friendship is wide!
Anybody can be our friend,
Our parents, our grandparents, our sister, our brother and even our school principal!

Friendship….
Is everything!

poem by Qistina Zaini
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Happy Friendship Day,2011

Good friendship is important in earthly life
True friendship is a rare find, lasting a life-time
Friendship is supportive, wholesome and priceless
Friendship must grow but is difficult to keep.

Friendship affords joy, solace and distraction
Friendship gives a better meaning to life
Friendship may deliver what parents sometimes fail to
Friendship is valuable, useful and advantageous.

Friendship makes the world a better place to live
Friendship makes living worthwhile, loveable and liveable
Friendship creates the right environs for sharing
The basis of good friendship is selfless, dedicated love of a special kind.

(7-8-11)

poem by John Celes
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A Friendship Is But A Flower

A friendship is but a flower
Growing out in Gods garden
Helping out the fellow man
Not knowing should they get a pardon

A friendship is but a flower
Waiting to bloom in the spring
Waiting with a helping hand or an ear
To help or listen to most any ol thing

A friendship is but a flower
That God lends to us for a while
To help us along our way
And give us a reason for a smile

A friendship is but a flower
Leaving impressions on our hearts
Never knowing when it might end
But, always happy to see it start

A friendship is but a flower
Sent with guidance from above
The friendship must be based on trust
But, like the flower, it's started with Gods love

Friendship is but a flower
Sent down for all of us to share
So pass on your bit of friendship
Show someone just how much you care

A friendship is but a flower
And this friendship I pass on to you
So please take my flower and friendship
So you can pass it on to others too

wrote 3/3/2009 by Norman Hale Jr

poem by Norman Hale
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L'Amitté Est L'Amour

Why should my anxious breast repine.
Because my youth is fled?
Days of delight may still be mine;
Affection is not dead.
In tracing back the years of youth,
One firm record, one lasting truth,
Celestial consolation brings;
Bear it, ye breezes, to the seat,
Where first my heart responsive beat,-
'Friendship is Love without his wings!'

Through few, but deeply chequer'd years,
What moments have been mine!
Now half obscured by clouds of tears,
Now bright in rays divine;
Howe'er my future doom be cast,
My soul, enraptured with the past,
To one idea fondly clings
Friendship! that thought is all thine own,
Worth worlds of bliss, that thought alone -
'Friendship is Love without his wings!'

Where yonder yew-trees lightly wave
Their branches on the gale,
Unheeded heaves a simple grave,
Which tells the common tale;
Round this unconscious schoolboys stray,
Till the dull knell of childish play
From yonder studious mansion rings;
But here whene'er my footsteps move,
My silent tears too plainly prove
'Friendship is Love without his wings!'

Oh, Love! before thy glowing shrine
My early vows were paid;
My hopes, my dreams, my heart was thine,
But these are now decay'd;
For thine are pinions like the wind,
No trace of thee remains behind,
Except, alas! thy Jealous stings.
Away, away! delusive power,
Thou shalt not haunt my coining hour;
Unless, indeed, without thy wings.

Seat of my youth! thy distant spire
Recalls each scene of joy;
My bosom glows with former fire,-
In mind again a boy.
Thy grove of elms thy verdant hill,
Thy eyery path delights me still,

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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The Richest Man

A true friendship is Golden,
It lasts for eternity, not for a fleeting moment,
It endures petty squabbles and unkind words,
it endures because it is Golden.

...A true friendship is climbing the largest mountain in the world,
It is wrapping up warm on a bitter, wintry day,
It is the warm glow of a traditional log fire,
A true friendship is Golden.

A true friendship is about trying to make things better,
providing strength in times of adversity,
and courage in times of weakness,
A true friendship is Golden.

A true friendship is turning dakness into light,
being a rock to rely on when life is cruel,
it is about being there when the going is tough,
A true friendship is Golden.

A true friendship is unwrapping a special present on Christmas day,
it is the tinsel that decorates so beautifully the tree,
it is the star that lights up the night sky,
A true friendship is priceless, something gold cant buy

poem by Simon Thorpe
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The Temple of Friendship

Sacred to peace, within a wood's recess,
A blest retreat, where courtiers never press,
A temple stands, where art did never try
With pompous wonders to enchant the eye;
There are no dazzling ornaments, nor vain,
But truth, simplicity, and nature reign:
The virtuous Gauls raised erst the noble shrine,
And sacred vowed to Friendship's power divine.
Mistaken mortals who believed their race,
Would never cease to crowd to such a place!
Orestes' name, and Pylades' appear,
Wrote on the front, names still to Friendship dear:
Pirithous' medal of uncommon size,
Those of soft Nisus and Achates wise.
All these are heroes, and as friends renowned,
These names are great, but still in fable found;
The power to this remote retreat retired,
Nor Tripod boasts, nor priests with truth inspired;
She miracles but seldom can effect,
No popish saint e'er met with such neglect.
Still in her presence faithful truth attends,
And to the goddess needful succor lends:
Truth's every ready to enlighten all,
But few on truth for kind assistance call.
In vain she waits for votaries at her shrine,
None come, though all at wanting her repine;
Her hand holds forth the register exact,
Of every generous, every friendly act;
Favors in which esteem with friendship vied,
Received not meanly, not conferred with pride:
Such favors as those who confer forget,
And who receive, declare without regret.
This history of the virtues of mankind,
Within a narrow compass is confined;
In Gothic characters all these are traced
Upon two sheets, by time almost defaced.
By what strange frenzy is mankind possessed,
Friendship is banished now from every breast;
Yet all usurp of Friend the sacred name,
And vilest hypocrites bring in their claim.
All that they're faithful to her laws maintain,
And even her enemies her rights profane:
In regions subject to the pope's command,
Thus we see beads oft in an atheist's hand.
'Tis said the goddess, each pretended friend,
Once in her presence summoned to attend;
She fixed the day on which they should be there,
A prize proposing for each faithful pair;
Who with a tenderness like hers replete,
Amongst true friends might justly claim a seat;

[...] Read more

poem by Voltaire
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Love others and take them along in your great ship – Friendship

It was a blossom in my life otherwise a desert
To have a friend and to open up my heart
To exchange what I feel and to assert
In me a confidence that there is someone to support

My friendship is not only to exchange joy
Also it share moments that have potential to destroy
My mansion of pleasures and smooth convoy
That I came over them, efforts I did not deploy

My friendship is a flower of all season
It shows up colours, emits fragrance for no reason
It is all understanding and sharing in person
An effortless display of love beyond horizon

My friendship requires no exchange
Of greetings, cards or flowers in orange
It tells me what my friend feels even in strange
No words spoken and everything is known in all its range

My friendship is god given honour
It is a strength on which I can corner
All successes and go beyond the banner
At the same time I remain ever a happy runner

My friendship is to me so special
That I protect it, as I do my essential
It is a bond made of thought potential
Will stay lifetime with great credential

Come on, we need to understand friendship
It is a relation generated mainly on courtship
It is a thought-driven process built on partnership
So, love others and take them along in your great ship

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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You See Friends (I See Lovers)

You said
This would never end
But I want you for more than just my friend
Yeah
And you said
This is hard to say
I never really looked at you that way
Getting scared, to tell you how I feel
Its not a passing thing I know its real
And if you have a reason
Not to move it on
So what about it baby
If you say no
Ill still be there
You keep running
Im still falling
You dont know this
Its something new my hearts discovered
You keep running
Ill keep calling
Till you notice
You see friends but I see lovers
You see friendship I see love
You see friendship I see love
Dont be scared
To let me in your heart
I've been there before
But I played a different part
And if you have a reason
Not to move it on
So what about it baby
If you say no
Ill still be there
You keep running
Im still falling
You dont know this
Its something new my hearts discovered
You keep running
Ill keep calling
Till you notice
You see friends but I see lovers
You see friendship I see love
You see friendship I see love
And if you have a reason
Not to move it on
So what about it baby
If you say no
Ill still be there
You keep running
Im still falling

[...] Read more

song performed by Westlife
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Friendship

Friendship needs no studied phrases,
Polished face, or winning wiles;
Friendship deals no lavish praises,
Friendship dons no surface smiles.

Friendship follows nature's diction,
Shuns the blandishments of art,
Boldly severs truth from fiction,
Speaks the language of the heart.

Friendship favors no condition,
Scorns a narrow-minded creed,
Lovingly fulfills its mission,
Be it word or be it deed.

Friendship cheers the faint and weary,
Makes the timid spirit brave,
Warns the erring, lights the dreary,
Smooths the passage to the grave.

Friendship-pure, unselfish friendship,
All through life's allotted span,
Nurtures, strengthens, widens, lengthens,
Man's relationship with man.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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Friendship

What virtue, or what mental grace
But men unqualified and base
Will boast it their possession?
Profusion apes the noble part
Of liberality of heart,
And dulness of discretion.

If every polish’d gem we find,
Illuminating heart or mind,
Provoke to imitation;
No wonder friendship does the same,
That jewel of the purest flame,
Or rather constellation.

No knave but boldly will pretend
The requisites that form a friend,
A real and a sound one;
Nor any fool, he would deceive,
But prove as ready to believe,
And dream that he had found one.

Candid, and generous, and just,
Boys care but little whom they trust,
An error soon corrected—
For who but learns in riper years
That man, when smoothest he appears,
Is most to be suspected?

But here again a danger lies,
Lest, having misapplied our eyes,
And taken trash for treasure,
We should unwarily conclude
Friendship a false ideal good,
A mere Utopian pleasure.

An acquisition rather rare
Is yet no subject of despair;
Nor is it wise complaining,
If, either on forbidden ground,
Or where it was not to be found,
We sought without attaining.

No friendship will abide the test,
That stands on sordid interest,
Or mean self-love erected;
Nor such as may awhile subsist
Between the sot and sensualist,
For vicious ends connected.

Who seek a friend should come dispos’d

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
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Twos Up

(three is company)
Last stand
Down to my last dime
Havent got the sense to leave
The dealers cutting fine
Last draw
Back against the wall
Depending where the money is
Is where Im gonna fall
Ace high
Hide your poker eyes
I didnt want to laugh too much
When I picked up the prize
Lady luck
Standing at my side
Ill leave with more than I brought in
And I get her in my life
Get her in my life
Chorus:
I go, you go, she go, we go
Twos up, its a twos up
Give me head, give me tails
Give me doubled up and coming doubled over on the rails
Give me twos up, its what I want
High up
When youre looking down
Then you see two animals
Just fooling you around
Stray dogs
Gonna take them in
I dont know what your names are
But youre gonna break them in
All day
Its difficult to say
Who is doing what to whom
Whos out of the play
I love
The way you slide and slip
Love the way you girls work out
And make the partnership
Make that partnership
Chorus
(gotta give me double or quits)
Twos up, twos up
Like your partnership
Like the way you slip
There aint nothing like a twos up
Thats the way it is, twos up
Its what I want to hear
Give me head, give me tails

[...] Read more

song performed by AC-DC
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Early Works - Bob And June

If this world should ever end
in the next we’d still be friends
for though we are from different walks of life
with different worries and strife
we combined together in strength of force
with friendship as a straight and narrow course.

Bob is the youngest of us all
isn’t very tall, but his friendship
is something you cannot explain
it’s true and sound, something profound.
June, Bob’s wife I’ve not known that long
has given me friendship and hope that’s strong
that’s why when together in a room
all sadness by happy faces and laughter is consumed.

Though our world is changing rapidly
our friendship will remain constantly
for our friendship will never break
of this make no mistake
for ours is a true friendship rarely found
in this world that revolves around.
That’s why this poem of friendship does conclude
my tribute to Bob and June.

Date unknown. (Probably early 1970s)

Authors note:
The sad note to this poem only recently found is that June died a few years ago of cancer. Bob afterward withdrew from friends and family until his whereabouts at present is unknown. I believe that we will meet again whether it is in this world or the next.

poem by David Harris
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Childish Recollections

'I cannot but remember such things were,
And were most dear to me.'

WHEN slow Disease, with all her host of pains,
Chills the warm, tide which flows along the veins
When Health,affrighted, spreads her rosy wing,
And flies with every changing gale of spring;
Not to the aching frame alone confined,
Unyielding pangs avail the drooping mind:
What grisly forms, the spectre-train of woe,
Bid shuddering Nature shrink beneath the blow
With Resignaion wage relentless strife,
While Hope retires appall'd, and clings to life!
Yet less the pang when, through the tedious hour,
Remembrance sheds around her genial power,
Calls back the vanish'd days to rapture given,
When love was bliss, and Beauty form'd our heaven;
Or, dear to youth, portrays each childish scene,
Those farry bowers, where all in turn have been.
As when through clouds that pour the sumrner storm
The orb of day unveils his distant form,
Gilds with faiht beams the crystal dews of rain,
And dimly twinkles o'er the watery plain;
Thus, while the future dark and cheerless gleams
The sun of memory, glowing through my drearns
Though sunk' the radiance of his former blaze,
To scenes far distant points his paler rays;
Still rules my senses with unbounded sway,
The past confounding with the present day.

Oft does my heart indulge the rising thought,
Which still recurs, uniook'd for and Unsought
My soul to Fancy's fond suggestion yields,
And roams romantic o'er her airy fields.
Scenes of my youth, developed, crowd to view,
To which I long have bade a last adieu!
Seats of delight, inspiring youthful themes;
Friends lost to me for aye, except in dreams;
Some who in marble prematurely sleep.
Whose forms I now remember but to weep;
Some who yet urge the same scholastic course
Of early science, future fame the source;
Who, still contending in the studious race,
In quick rotation fill the senior place.
These with a thousand visions now unite,
To dazzle, though they please, my aching sight
Ida blest spot, where science holds her reign,
How joyous once I join'd thv youthful train!
Bright in idea gleams thy lofty spire,
Again I mingle with thy playful quire;

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Largest Jigsaw Missing

You addressed me as your friend,
I addressed you as a brother from another mother.
I regarded us as Ireland's strongest companions
Since we always had each other.

I knew you since I was five,
You knew me since you were four.
As far back as Junior Infants
I sensed that, eternally, our friendship would soar.

Footballs were kicked,
Girls we talked.
Wild parties we attended
While we laughed at teens getting locked.

You were everything in my social life,
I couldn't imagine joy without you.
We were so close that the more the years passed,
The more the sound of our bond reached crescendo.

But on June tenth, after Ireland played Croatia,
What you said to me could not be forgiven.
I doubt the drink made you reveal your true colours,
After all the years of love and gifts I had given.

How dare you accuse me of a bad reputation? !
If so, why was it with me you always wanted to be?
I would never put girls before our friendship like you.
Even if you did find one from where you want one,
With a hundred other boys she would flee.
At least I wouldn't, eh?

Ten days later, just when all seemed lost,
You phoned me up five times,
All of which were left unanswered.
I didn't want to talk to you that night.
You're the reason our friendship cannot be plastered,
Not me. I didn't tell you what you told me.

You, my boy,
Are now the largest jigsaw missing from my heart.
My soul is crushed with you out of my face.
Now I envy the partnership of Milhouse and Bart.

Beg for forgiveness all you want.
I actually want to bring things to how they were, see?
But as long as you're still friends with the Hate Crowd,
You will always remain an enemy to me.

They encourage you to say what you said.

[...] Read more

poem by Stephen Cahill Furlong
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Friendship And Love

Friendship is love
Love is friendship
Why
Have one when you don’t have the other
When
Love depends so greatly
On friendship
That
Without friendship
Love could not exist

Friendship is within love
Love is within friendship
They can’t live
Cant breath
Without each one another
Can’t be
Truly there without each other

They don’t fight the war
Against each other
They fight it as
A team
A bond
So powerful that no man shall ever
Break them a part

poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Happy Friendship-Day,2009

Let friends in life be few but firm;
Let all those few be thick and great;
Let friendship good last for life-time,
And be a satisfying one!

Let friends be precious and worthwhile;
Let friendship grow and stay ev’r-green;
Let friends become true role-models,
And guide our life on earth nobly!

Let friends hold us spell-bound in life;
Let friends share joys and grief as well;
Let friendship’s sway make us better,
And give us moments to be proud!

Let friends be part of earthly lives;
Let friendship stay a boon, not bane;
Let friends be inseparable,
And be like angel guardians dear!

Let friendship fill the world with love,
And dispel gloom and solitude;
Let friends be more than siblings born,
And make our life on earth fruitful!

Let friendship glue a hearty bond;
Let friends bring godliness in life;
Let friendliness perfume the world,
And make our earthly lives worthwhile!

Let love turn foes to be like friends;
Let friends make earth a paradise;
Let friendliness rule hearts and minds,
And fix our gaze to God above!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 8-1-2009

poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: A Lost Friendship

You were my friend then: now almost stranger!
Our friendship appeared once very glorious;
What happened meantime, gives me great anger;
Our friendship no longer remains serious.

Fool you were, to be misled by others,
Who drove a giant wedge ’midst our friendship;
Cut off is our friendship, which me bothers;
A nadir has come in our relationship.

What years of intimacy have been lost?
You’ve been foolish, very much on your part;
Our friendship today is just but a ghost;
Won’t your eyes see the true love in my heart?

Dear friend however, you can’t be my foe;
I hope that our friendship, blossoms once more!

poem by John Celes
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The Temple of Friendship

IN the depths of the silent wood the temple of Friendship stood,
Like a dream of snow-white stone, or a vestal all alone,
Undraped beside a stream.

The pious from every clime came there to rest for a time,
With incense and gifts and prayer; and the stainless marble stair
Was worn by fervent knees.

And everywhere the fame of the beautiful temple came,
With its altar white and pure, and its worship to allure
From gods that bring unrest.

The goddess was there to assuage (for this was the Golden Age)
The trials of all who staid and trustingly tried and prayed
For the perfect grace.

Soldier and clerk and dame in couples and companies came;
There were few who rode alone, for none feared the other one,
So placid and safe the creed.

There came from afar one day, with a suite in rich array,
A lady of beauty rare, who bent to the plaintive air
A handsome minstrel sung.

Her face was as calm and cold as the stamp of a queen on gold,
And the song the poet sung to a restful theme was strung,
A tranquil air of peace.

But, as they happily rode to the holy and white abode,
They were watched from a cloud above by the mischievous god of Love,
Who envied Friendship's reign.

They dreamt not of danger near, and their hearts felt no shade of fear,
As they laid their rich offerings of flowers and precious things
At Friendship's lovely feet.

They lingered long near the shrine, in the air of its peace divine;
By the shadowed stream they strayed, where often the heavenly maid
Would smile upon their rest.

One day, with her white robe flown, she passed like a dream alone,
Where they sat in a converse sweet, with the silver stream at their feet
As still and as wise as they.

To the innermost temple's room, to the couch, and the sacred loom
Where she weaves her placid will, the goddess came, smiling still,
Unrobing for blissful rest.

O lily of perfect mold, the world had grown young, not old,
Had it bowed at thy milk-white feet with a love not of fire, but heat,—

[...] Read more

poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Added by Poetry Lover
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