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My Ideal Christmas

Every Christmas we celebrate the same thing
Thinking snow and gifts have to always be there
Until I realized a new thought to bring
That there is much more than care
I hope that one-day on Christmas Eve
In the year two thousand and forty
I’ll be fifty of age not to leave
And in the age of prosperity

By that age, I hope to have a family
To sit around the fire
And there will be serenity
That no one will ever tire

Celebrating Christmas at the age of fifty
Is the greatest thing to be
I’ll see the lives I’ve touched so far
Including my family

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(Further Away) From The Year Two Thousand and Eight

As we move further away,
From the year two thousand and eight.
As is the custom to celebrate it.
There will be more who will come,
To appreciate the year...
They were shakened awake.
Realizing they were not forced,
To participate...
In satisfying a temporary greed,
Nibbled with a teasing eventually satiated.
Many caught up in the feeding of this feast...
Wished they had more patience and waited!
To examine the crooks who gleefully stuffed them...
With a wonderful presentation of deceit on their plates!

Would you pass me more lies, please!
What do you mean 'which ones'?
The best ones,
Of course.
What do you mean...
You've 'run out' of 'those'?
They were delicious!
I demand an explanation.
Immediately! '

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The Poem's Truth Is That It Says More Than It Knows


The poem’s truth is that it says more than it knows
That it goes beyond its own intention
That it means in more than only one way
The poem’s truth is its hidden music
And the melody it plays through and beyond our listening
A poem’s truth answers itself in endless questions and ambiguities
No wonder no one simply reads these simple words
As if they were simply written.

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More Than Meets The Eye

Now he walks in shadows
Hes tryin to pretend she never walked away
But its not deceivin
Hes closer to an end he never could foresee
Where love goes
Where love dies,
Heaven knows
But its more than meets the eye
So much more than just a last goodbye
Its a cold and lonely heart
So sad and torn apart
Yes its more than meets the eye
Now hes in for trouble
His luck has turned away
Nobody seems to care
Well theres a cold moon risin
And another lonely day
Has passed and shes not

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He Makes The Things Between Us To Be True (Collins Sestets)

I am set to love God more than anybody
His principles, character lives in me
the very essence of love is such
that one cannot love a person overmuch,
He makes the things between us to be true
which brings His love to that in me and you.

My joys are many, my sorrows are few
and every day with you is something new
while to me you are much more than a friend
the depth of our feelings is without end,
He makes the things between us to be true
which brings His love to that in me and you.

Daily I only want to love you more,
being together with you that I adore
with you small hand in mine on life's pathway
while we constantly head to the new day,
He makes the things between us to be true
which brings His love to that in me and you.

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Courage and Nerve

There is much more depth,
Than what those have selected to project.
Much more than you suspect,
That reveals an introspectiveness.

There is much beneath the surface.
And upon your research this you will observe.
Some of it serves an embitteredness.
And a lot of it takes courage and nerve.

There is much more depth,
Than what those have selected to project.
Much more than you suspect,
That reveals an introspectiveness.

There is nothing hidden.
Or begged to be forgiven.
There is nothing exposed stripped of reality.
If a pain is expressed it is felt and believed.

There is much beneath the surface.
And upon your research this you will observe.
Some of it serves an embitteredness.
And a lot of it takes courage and nerve.

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Not Just A Refugee

I was forced to leave my homeland,
My children and my wife,
To find a safer place to live,
Ultimately to save my life.

My decision wasn't taken lightly,
So please try to be aware,
We only want security,
For you to show you care.

What you take for granted,
We are not allowed,
While we must say things quietly,
You can shout out loud.

You can walk for miles on end,
Without the need for fear,
What we'd give to do the same,
That's our reason for coming here.

You can choose where you want to go,
We don't have that choice,
All we want is liberty,
To be able to have a voice.

While you have a dream in life,
To be fabulously wealthy,
Where I come from our only aim,
Is trying to stay fit and healthy.

If you were beaten every day,
You'd say that can't be right,
That is why I had to move,
I'd lost the will to fight.

If you were told your life is ours,
You do not have a say,
Would you not do the same as me,
Get up and run away.

I want to work and pay my way,
Just the same as you,
All I ask for in return,
Is respect from just a few,

I don't want your handouts,
I'd much rather be employed,
That way I'll feel valued,
My life can be enjoyed.

So please don't treat me differently,
I do not look for favours,
What I seek is acceptance,
That's what our species savours.

I did what any human would,
In order to survive,
While I'm here there's always hope,
My family will survive.

Until you get to know me,
Please don't make a song and dance,
Just try to learn who I am,
All I ask for is a chance.

Before you make any judgement,
Please try to understand,
I come for your democracy,
Not to steal your land.

You're renowned for fighting injustice,
A cause you‘re fighting still,
I am doing just the same,
My mission I must fulfill.

That is why I came here,
On freedom you're renowned,
Help me through to be as you,
Then equality we'll have found.

I do not ask for sympathy,
Just a friendly ear,
To listen to my troubles,
You can help bring me some cheer.

I miss my wife and children too,
Most everyone's the same,
As humans we love our families,
They're worth much more than fame.

I pray one day we'll be as one,
Those wrongs will all be righted,
With your help I'll once again,
With my family be reunited.

Close your eyes for just a while,
When you open them you'll see,
I am like you, a Human Being,

‘' Not Just A Refugee ''

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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. Matthew (Chapter 10)

Then Jesus summoned His disciples twelve,
Empowered them to drive out bad spirits,
And cure illnesses and all diseases.

The twelve apostles were (Peter) Simon,
His brother Andrew; James, Zebedee’s son;
His brother, John; Philip; Bartholomew;
Simon, the Canaanite; Thomas; Matthew,
Tax-collector; James, son of Alphaeus;
Judas Iscariot and Thaddeus.

Then Jesus sent the twelve advising thus:
Don’t enter Samaritan towns or go
Into territory that’s pagan also.
Redeem the sheep that’s lost from Israel’s house;
Proclaim, ‘The Kingdom is at hand, So Spouse! ’

‘You cure the sick and raise the dead alive;
You cleanse lepers and demons you, out drive;
When you’ve received without cost, you must give;
And without wealth, all life, you must all live.’

‘You should not take a sack for your journey,
A second dress, or stick, sandals, money!
The laborer keeps whatev’r he deserves;
Just worthy person in towns, he then serves;
Whenev’r you enter homes, you wish them peace;
If house be unworthy, let peace, then cease.’

‘If one receives you not or heeds your words,
Then leave that house or town, shake off feet’s dust.’
‘’Twill be, Amen, I say on Judgment Day,
Intolerable for that town anyway,
Than for the lands of Sodom, Gomorrah! ’

‘Behold, I send you like sheep amidst wolves,
So, be like serpents shrewd, simple like doves.
Beware of people handing you to courts,
And scourging you in synagogues by words.’
And you’ll be led before governors, kings,
As my witness ‘fore them, pagans, in strings.’

And when they hand you o’er, do not worry,
About the things to say or how to speak;
For, you’ll be told at that moment, those things.
And you’ll not speak but will Holy Spirit,
Through you, on your behalf, in manner fit.’

And brother hands over brother to death,
And so will father hand over his child,
And children will against their parents rise,
And have them put to death although unwise.’

And all will hate you because of my name,
And whoever endures, will not end in shame.
And if they persecute you in one town,
Then, flee to another, known or unknown;
And you’ll finish not all of Israel’s towns,
Before the Son of Man finally comes! ’

No disciple can be above teacher;
No slave can be above his own master.’
’Tis not enough for disciple that he,
In every way, his teacher-like to be,
Nor slave become, his master-like truly;
If they have called the master Beelzebul,
Of those in house-hold then, what will they call? ’

Of them therefore, in life, don’t be afraid;
Nothing’s concealed that will not be revealed;
There will be no secret remaining veiled.’

‘What I tell you in darkness, speak in light;
The whisper that you hear, proclaim from height;
Don’t be afraid of body-killers then;
They can’t destroy the soul, I say, amen;
But fear the one who destroys body, soul.’

‘Are not two sparrows sold for coin so small?
Yet, to the ground, none of them ever fall,
Without your Father’s knowledge or His call.
Even the hairs on head are counted well;
You’re worth much more than sparrow birds that sell!

‘If you acknowledge me before others,
Then, Ill acknowledge you ‘fore my Father;
If you deny me before others then,
I will, before my Father in Heaven.’

‘Don’t think Ive come to bestow peace on earth;
Ive come to give not peace but flash the sword.
Ive come to set a man against father,
To set her daughter ‘gainst her own mother,
Daughter-in-law against mother-in-law!
One’s foes will be in one’s household to awe.’

‘If more than me, one loves father, mother,
Then, he or she is not worthy of me.
If more than me, one loves son or daughter,
Then, he is not worthy of me truly.
Whoever does not bear his cross and walk,
And follow me, is unworthy to talk.’

‘Whoever find his life, will lose it then;
Whoever loses for my sake, finds when
In future, he receives me, aye, amen.’

‘Whoev’r receives a prophet properly,
Will get a prophet’s reward heavenly;
Whoev’r receives a righteous man aright,
Receives me and the one who made the Light.’

To one such Godly person, to then drink,
A cup of water, even if he gives,
Amen, I say to you, he surely lives,
To get reward in heaven, in a wink.’


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After Being Guided

Being unable to see the forest for the trees,
After being guided to where that forest begins...
There is so much more than trees,
Out of one's perspective...
That an assistance with a helping to connect,
Painted colored dots to make clear those 'differences'...
Would be too late and a waste of time,
To clean one's attic of debris.

It's 'never' too late?
For a lot of folks...
This will not be a matter for them to confront to consider.

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I Choose You

(r palmer)
I choose you
When love comes along you go with the flow
You should trust your feelings on it
When you get hit by the arrow youll know
Cupids aim is always on it
Its half past two now
Your face is lovely
Its only lit by candlelight
Just me and you here
Our room is quiet
Only our sighs and whispers
You dont choose who you fall in love with
You dont mess with the gods of love
You cant choose who you fall in love with
So I choose you
When love comes along you go with the flow
You should trust your feelings on it
When you get hit by the arrow youll know
Cupids aim is always on it
You mesmerise me
My head is spinning
This is much more than fantasy
Lost in your kisses
My senses tingle
We lose our inhibitions
You dont choose who you fall in love with
You dont mess with the gods of love
You cant choose who you fall in love with
So I choose you
I choose
I choose you
I choose
I choose you
I choose
Oh babe I choose you
I choose
I choose you
You dont choose who you fall in love with
You dont mess with the gods of love
You cant choose who you fall in love with
So I choose you
You dont choose who you fall in love with
You dont mess with the gods of love
You cant choose who you fall in love with
So I choose you

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Pictures Of You

I've been looking so long at these pictures of you that I almost believe that they are real
I have been living so long with my pictures of you that I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel
Remembering you standing quiet in the rain as I ran to your heart to be near
And we kissed as the sky fell and holding you close
How I always held close in your fear
Remembering you were the song through the night
You were bigger and brighter and whiter than snow
Screaming at the make believe, screaming at the sky and you finally found all your courage to let it all go
Remembering you falling into my arms, crying for the death of your heart
It was stone white, so delicate, lost in the cold, you were always so lost in the dark
Remembering you, how you used to be, so proud you were angels, so much more than everything
Hope for the last time, it'd slip away quietly
open my eyes but I never see anything.
If I'd only I thought of the right words, I could have held on to your heart
If I'd only I thought of the right words, I wouldnt be breaking apart...
All my pictures of you
Looking so long at these pictures of you, I'd never hold onto your heart
Looking so long for the words to be true, but always just breaking apart.
My pictures of you
There is nothing in the world that I ever wanted more than to feel you deep in my heart
There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more than to never feel breaking apart
All my pictures of you

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Chaotic Wonderment

The feelings I have for you
are so much more than love.
They're spiced with deep emotions,
enriched with the harmonies of well being
that transcend the sky above.

That four letter word is inadequate
to portray the emotions I possess.
The explosions of chaotic wonderment
in my heart, soul, and mind,
deserves much more than a word that can mean much less.

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There will ALWAYS be light

There will always be light,
No matter where thou looks,
Maybe not physically,
but mentally,
There will always be light

There will always be laughter,
No matter where thou looks,
Maybe not outside your soul,
but inside,
There will always be laughter

So whenever you are feeling down,
there will always be light,
there will always be laughter
-you might just have to search deep inside for it-

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Humble p 's are squared. (p R2) (p R2)

How big a bubble must we have to fit
the friends we've made and those we've yet to meet?
The ones who bring us laughter, love and wit.
The ones who keep the lid on our conceit.

Who ground us and astound us everyday
with ad lib quips that bring us to our knees.
Enlightening and frightening in a way,
which, on reflection, always seems to please.

The relatives and strangers by the shore
who share unspoken moments lost in thought.
When synchronicity says so much more
than reaching goals for which we've fiercely fought.

How big a bubble? What does it keep out?
Strategically placed pins, perhaps, may dissipate all doubt?

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My dreams...

My dreams

Oh my brat living dreams, why behave to me?
Like really you are half dead,
And you nervously move around as alarmed,
every time I try to touch,
Do you know?
I feel myself like an empty space in your midst, so
Why do you look at me,
like I'm a stranger from out of space?
Even if you do not want me,
please do not charm to anyone,
Please no more
Because I have suffered enough, more than enough
Whenever your curious shadows tried to follow me…
You wet dreams, distorted, made so by nothing whatsoever…
Do not call me guilty, only because I forgot to play your melody …
You naughty dreams, in this time of monstrous
I will not leave you now on, to look so crooked at me
Dreams, dreams, dreams,
I do not know why I continue talking with you
As long as you are the dreams of dream,
You never matured …
Do you! ? ....

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So Much More

It is so much more,
Just a regiment.
So much more,
Than a doing that soothes...
And one that is meant.

It is more than,
Proving with a doing of discipline.
There's nothing that can equal,
Or come as a sequel to re-invent.

This is...
And is...
Mighty sweet.
When I go to bed,
I don't toss and turn.
I close my eyes and I fall right to sleep.

Holy moly yeah!
This is...
And is...
More than I can wish.
Even if it wasn't top of my list.

This is...
Peace and it benefits.

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I've always been extremely lucky in playing with great people who knew much more than I did. That's how I got from there to here.

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The Date Of Christmas DaY

The Date Of Christmas DaY
A.D.Four plus thirty-three= A.D.Thirty-seven.
The millineum year Two Thousand Thirty Seven has not yet occured.
Inn mye humble opinion never will it ever bee.
Iff Christ was born in September Thirty-Seven,
we should have Christmas on September Three.
December TwentY-fifth is the dead works day of druids.
They still dance the maypole day in May.
May ONE could be the birthday of GODS son.
The time is tricky anyway after more than a few years.
Everything gets blurry after way too many beers.
The moral of this story just accept that it was done.
This Christmas try to worship on December Twenty-One.
Drink less eggnogg and have more FUN.
On this millineum day in Nineteen Fifty-Four;
Eye was not yet one year Young.

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Alfie The Christmas Tree

This song was first released on the a christmas together album. it is the only album it has been released on. it is a poem.
Did you ever hear the story of the christmas tree
Who just didnt want to change the show
He liked living in the woods and playing with squirrels
He liked icycles and snow
He liked wolves and eagles and grizzly bears
And critters and creatures that crawled
Why bugs were some of his very best friends
Spiders and ants and all
Now thats not to say that he ever looked down
On a vision of twinkled lights
Or on mirrored bubbles and peppermint canes
And a thousand other delights
And he often had dreams of tiny reindeer
And a jolly old man in a sleigh
Full of toys and presents and wonderful things
And a story of christmas day
Oh, alfie believed in christmas alright
He was full of christmas cheer
All of each and every day
And all throughout the year
To him it was more than a special time
Much more than a special day
It was more than a special story, it was more than a beautiful story
It was a special kind of way
You see some folks have never heard a jingle bell ring
And theyve never heard of santa claus
Theyve never heard the story of the son of god
That made alfie pause
Did that mean that theyd never know of peace on earth
Or the brotherhood of man
Or know how to love, or know how to give
If they cant no one can
You see, life is a very special kind of thing
Not just for a chosen few
But for each and every living, breathing thing
Not just me and you
So when youre at christmas prayers this year
Alfie asked me if Id ask you
Say a prayer for the wind and the water and the wood
And those who live there too
Words by john denver

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Christopher Marlowe

Hero and Leander: The First Sestiad

On Hellespont, guilty of true-love's blood,
In view and opposite two cities stood,
Sea-borderers, disjoined by Neptune's might;
The one Abydos, the other Sestos hight.
At Sestos Hero dwelt; Hero the fair,
Whom young Apollo courted for her hair,
And offered as a dower his burning throne,
Where she should sit for men to gaze upon.
The outside of her garments were of lawn,
The lining purple silk, with gilt stars drawn;
Her wide sleeves green, and bordered with a grove,
Where Venus in her naked glory strove
To please the careless and disdainful eyes
Of proud Adonis, that before her lies.
Her kirtle blue, whereon was many a stain,
Made with the blood of wretched lovers slain.
Upon her head she ware a myrtle wreath,
From whence her veil reached to the ground beneath.
Her veil was artificial flowers and leaves
Whose workmanship both man and beast deceives.
Many would praise the sweet smell as she passed,
When 'twas the odour which her breath forth cast;
And there for honey bees have sought in vain,
And, beat from thence, have lighted there again.
About her neck hung chains of pebblestone,
Which, lightened by her neck, like diamonds shone.
She ware no gloves; for neither sun nor wind
Would burn or parch her hands, but to her mind,
Or warm or cool them, for they took delight
To play upon those hands, they were so white.
Buskins of shells, all silvered used she,
And branched with blushing coral to the knee;
Where sparrows perched of hollow pearl and gold,
Such as the world would wonder to behold.
Those with sweet water oft her handmaid fills,
Which, as she went, would chirrup through the bills.
Some say for her the fairest Cupid pined
And looking in her face was strooken blind.
But this is true: so like was one the other,
As he imagined Hero was his mother.
And oftentimes into her bosom flew,
About her naked neck his bare arms threw,
And laid his childish head upon her breast,
And, with still panting rocked, there took his rest.
So lovely fair was Hero, Venus' nun,
As Nature wept, thinking she was undone,
Because she took more from her than she left,
And of such wondrous beauty her bereft.
Therefore, in sign her treasure suffered wrack,
Since Hero's time hath half the world been black.
Amorous Leander, beautiful and young,
(whose tragedy divine Musaeus sung,)
Dwelt at Abydos; since him dwelt there none
For whom succeeding times make greater moan.
His dangling tresses, that were never shorn,
Had they been cut, and unto Colchos borne,
Would have allured the vent'rous youth of Greece
To hazard more than for the golden fleece.
Fair Cynthia wished his arms might be her sphere;
Grief makes her pale, because she moves not there.
His body was as straight as Circe's wand;
Jove might have sipped out nectar from his hand.
Even as delicious meat is to the taste,
So was his neck in touching, and surpassed
The white of Pelop's shoulder. I could tell ye
How smooth his breast was and how white his belly;
And whose immortal fingers did imprint
That heavenly path with many a curious dint
That runs along his back, but my rude pen
Can hardly blazon forth the loves of men,
Much less of powerful gods. Let it suffice
That my slack Muse sings of Leander's eyes,
Those orient cheeks and lips, exceeding his
That leaped into the water for a kiss
Of his own shadow and, despising many,
Died ere he could enjoy the love of any.
Had wild Hippolytus Leander seen
Enamoured of his beauty had he been.
His presence made the rudest peasant melt
That in the vast uplandish country dwelt.
The barbarous Thracian soldier, moved with nought,
Was moved with him and for his favour sought.
Some swore he was a maid in man's attire,
For in his looks were all that men desire,
A pleasant smiling cheek, a speaking eye,
A brow for love to banquet royally;
And such as knew he was a man, would say,
'Leander, thou art made for amorous play.
Why art thou not in love, and loved of all?
Though thou be fair, yet be not thine own thrall.'
The men of wealthy Sestos every year,
(For his sake whom their goddess held so dear,
Rose-cheeked Adonis) kept a solemn feast.
Thither resorted many a wandering guest
To meet their loves.
Such as had none at all,
Came lovers home from this great festival.
For every street like to a firmament
Glistered with breathing stars who, where they went,
Frighted the melancholy earth which deemed
Eternal heaven to burn, for so it seemed,
As if another Phaeton had got
The guidance of the sun's rich chariot.
But far above the loveliest Hero shined
And stole away th' enchanted gazer's mind,
For like sea nymphs' enveigling Harmony,
So was her beauty to the standers by.
Nor that night-wandering, pale, and wat'ry star
(When yawning dragons draw her thirling car
From Latmus' mount up to the gloomy sky
Where, crowned with blazing light and majesty,
She proudly sits) more overrules the flood
Than she the hearts of those that near her stood.
Even as, when gaudy nymphs pursue the chase,
Wretched Ixion's shaggy footed race,
Incensed with savage heat, gallop amain
From steep pine-bearing mountains to the plain.
So ran the people forth to gaze upon her,
And all that viewed her were enamoured on her.
And as in fury of a dreadful fight,
Their fellows being slain or put to flight,
Poor soldiers stand with fear of death dead strooken,
So at her presence all surprised and tooken,
Await the sentence of her scornful eyes.
He whom she favours lives, the other dies.
There might you see one sigh, another rage;
And some, (their violent passions to assuage)
Compile sharp satires, but alas too late,
For faithful love will never turn to hate.
And many seeing great princes were denied
Pin'd as they went, and thinking on her died.
On this feast day, O cursed day and hour,
Went Hero thorough Sestos from her tower
To Venus' temple, where unhappily
As after chanced, they did each other spy.
So fair a church as this had Venus none.
The walls were of discoloured jasper stone
Wherein was Proteus carved, and o'erhead
A lively vine of green sea agate spread,
Where by one hand lightheaded Bacchus hung,
And, with the other, wine from grapes out wrung.
Of crystal shining fair the pavement was.
The town of Sestos called it Venus' glass.
There might you see the gods in sundry shapes
Committing heady riots, incest, rapes.
For know, that underneath this radiant floor
Was Danae's statue in a brazen tower,
Jove slyly stealing from his sister's bed,
To dally with Idalian Ganymede,
And for his love Europa bellowing loud,
And tumbling with the Rainbow in a cloud;
Blood quaffing Mars heaving the iron net
Which limping Vulcan and his Cyclops set;
Love kindling fire to burn such towns as Troy;
Sylvanus weeping for the lovely boy
That now is turned into a cypress tree,
Under whose shade the wood gods love to be.
And in the midst a silver altar stood.
There Hero, sacrificing turtle's blood,
Vailed to the ground, vailing her eyelids close,
And modestly they opened as she rose.
Thence flew Love's arrow with the golden head,
And thus Leander was enamoured.
Stone still he stood, and evermore he gazed
Till with the fire that from his countenance blazed
Relenting Hero's gentle heart was strook.
Such force and virtue hath an amorous look.
It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin
We wish that one should lose, the other win.
And one especially do we affect
Of two gold ingots like in each respect.
The reason no man knows; let it suffice
What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?
He kneeled, but unto her devoutly prayed.
Chaste Hero to herself thus softly said,
'Were I the saint he worships, I would hear him; '
And, as she spake those words, came somewhat near him.
He started up, she blushed as one ashamed,
Wherewith Leander much more was inflamed.
He touched her hand; in touching it she trembled.
Love deeply grounded, hardly is dissembled.
These lovers parleyed by the touch of hands;
True love is mute, and oft amazed stands.
Thus while dumb signs their yielding hearts entangled,
The air with sparks of living fire was spangled,
And night, deep drenched in misty Acheron,
Heaved up her head, and half the world upon
Breathed darkness forth (dark night is Cupid's day) .
And now begins Leander to display
Love's holy fire, with words, with sighs, and tears,
Which like sweet music entered Hero's ears,
And yet at every word she turned aside,
And always cut him off as he replied.
At last, like to a bold sharp sophister,
With cheerful hope thus he accosted her.
'Fair creature, let me speak without offence.
I would my rude words had the influence
To lead thy thoughts as thy fair looks do mine,
Then shouldst thou be his prisoner, who is thine.
Be not unkind and fair; misshapen stuff
Are of behaviour boisterous and rough.
O shun me not, but hear me ere you go.
God knows I cannot force love as you do.
My words shall be as spotless as my youth,
Full of simplicity and naked truth.
This sacrifice, (whose sweet perfume descending
From Venus' altar, to your footsteps bending)
Doth testify that you exceed her far,
To whom you offer, and whose nun you are.
Why should you worship her? Her you surpass
As much as sparkling diamonds flaring glass.
A diamond set in lead his worth retains;
A heavenly nymph, beloved of human swains,
Receives no blemish, but ofttimes more grace;
Which makes me hope, although I am but base:
Base in respect of thee, divine and pure,
Dutiful service may thy love procure.
And I in duty will excel all other,
As thou in beauty dost exceed Love's mother.
Nor heaven, nor thou, were made to gaze upon,
As heaven preserves all things, so save thou one.
A stately builded ship, well rigged and tall,
The ocean maketh more majestical.
Why vowest thou then to live in Sestos here
Who on Love's seas more glorious wouldst appear?
Like untuned golden strings all women are,
Which long time lie untouched, will harshly jar.
Vessels of brass, oft handled, brightly shine.
What difference betwixt the richest mine
And basest mould, but use? For both, not used,
Are of like worth. Then treasure is abused
When misers keep it; being put to loan,
In time it will return us two for one.
Rich robes themselves and others do adorn;
Neither themselves nor others, if not worn.
Who builds a palace and rams up the gate
Shall see it ruinous and desolate.
Ah, simple Hero, learn thyself to cherish.
Lone women like to empty houses perish.
Less sins the poor rich man that starves himself
In heaping up a mass of drossy pelf,
Than such as you. His golden earth remains
Which, after his decease, some other gains.
But this fair gem, sweet in the loss alone,
When you fleet hence, can be bequeathed to none.
Or, if it could, down from th'enameled sky
All heaven would come to claim this legacy,
And with intestine broils the world destroy,
And quite confound nature's sweet harmony.
Well therefore by the gods decreed it is
We human creatures should enjoy that bliss.
One is no number; maids are nothing then
Without the sweet society of men.
Wilt thou live single still? One shalt thou be,
Though never singling Hymen couple thee.
Wild savages, that drink of running springs,
Think water far excels all earthly things,
But they that daily taste neat wine despise it.
Virginity, albeit some highly prize it,
Compared with marriage, had you tried them both,
Differs as much as wine and water doth.
Base bullion for the stamp's sake we allow;
Even so for men's impression do we you,
By which alone, our reverend fathers say,
Women receive perfection every way.
This idol which you term virginity
Is neither essence subject to the eye
No, nor to any one exterior sense,
Nor hath it any place of residence,
Nor is't of earth or mould celestial,
Or capable of any form at all.
Of that which hath no being do not boast;
Things that are not at all are never lost.
Men foolishly do call it virtuous;
What virtue is it that is born with us?
Much less can honour be ascribed thereto;
Honour is purchased by the deeds we do.
Believe me, Hero, honour is not won
Until some honourable deed be done.
Seek you for chastity, immortal fame,
And know that some have wronged Diana's name?
Whose name is it, if she be false or not
So she be fair, but some vile tongues will blot?
But you are fair, (ay me) so wondrous fair,
So young, so gentle, and so debonair,
As Greece will think if thus you live alone
Some one or other keeps you as his own.
Then, Hero, hate me not nor from me fly
To follow swiftly blasting infamy.
Perhaps thy sacred priesthood makes thee loath.
Tell me, to whom mad'st thou that heedless oath? '
'To Venus,' answered she and, as she spake,
Forth from those two tralucent cisterns brake
A stream of liquid pearl, which down her face
Made milk-white paths, whereon the gods might trace
To Jove's high court.
He thus replied: 'The rites
In which love's beauteous empress most delights
Are banquets, Doric music, midnight revel,
Plays, masks, and all that stern age counteth evil.
Thee as a holy idiot doth she scorn
For thou in vowing chastity hast sworn
To rob her name and honour, and thereby
Committ'st a sin far worse than perjury,
Even sacrilege against her deity,
Through regular and formal purity.
To expiate which sin, kiss and shake hands.
Such sacrifice as this Venus demands.'
Thereat she smiled and did deny him so,
As put thereby, yet might he hope for moe.
Which makes him quickly re-enforce his speech,
And her in humble manner thus beseech.
'Though neither gods nor men may thee deserve,
Yet for her sake, whom you have vowed to serve,
Abandon fruitless cold virginity,
The gentle queen of love's sole enemy.
Then shall you most resemble Venus' nun,
When Venus' sweet rites are performed and done.
Flint-breasted Pallas joys in single life,
But Pallas and your mistress are at strife.
Love, Hero, then, and be not tyrannous,
But heal the heart that thou hast wounded thus,
Nor stain thy youthful years with avarice.
Fair fools delight to be accounted nice.
The richest corn dies, if it be not reaped;
Beauty alone is lost, too warily kept.'
These arguments he used, and many more,
Wherewith she yielded, that was won before.
Hero's looks yielded but her words made war.
Women are won when they begin to jar.
Thus, having swallowed Cupid's golden hook,
The more she strived, the deeper was she strook.
Yet, evilly feigning anger, strove she still
And would be thought to grant against her will.
So having paused a while at last she said,
'Who taught thee rhetoric to deceive a maid?
Ay me, such words as these should I abhor
And yet I like them for the orator.'
With that Leander stooped to have embraced her
But from his spreading arms away she cast her,
And thus bespake him: 'Gentle youth, forbear
To touch the sacred garments which I wear.
Upon a rock and underneath a hill
Far from the town (where all is whist and still,
Save that the sea, playing on yellow sand,
Sends forth a rattling murmur to the land,
Whose sound allures the golden Morpheus
In silence of the night to visit us)
My turret stands and there, God knows, I play.
With Venus' swans and sparrows all the day.
A dwarfish beldam bears me company,
That hops about the chamber where I lie,
And spends the night (that might be better spent)
In vain discourse and apish merriment.
Come thither.' As she spake this, her tongue tripped,
For unawares 'come thither' from her slipped.
And suddenly her former colour changed,
And here and there her eyes through anger ranged.
And like a planet, moving several ways,
At one self instant she, poor soul, assays,
Loving, not to love at all, and every part
Strove to resist the motions of her heart.
And hands so pure, so innocent, nay, such
As might have made heaven stoop to have a touch,
Did she uphold to Venus, and again
Vowed spotless chastity, but all in vain.
Cupid beats down her prayers with his wings,
Her vows above the empty air he flings,
All deep enraged, his sinewy bow he bent,
And shot a shaft that burning from him went,
Wherewith she strooken, looked so dolefully,
As made love sigh to see his tyranny.
And as she wept her tears to pearl he turned,
And wound them on his arm and for her mourned.
Then towards the palace of the destinies
Laden with languishment and grief he flies,
And to those stern nymphs humbly made request
Both might enjoy each other, and be blest.
But with a ghastly dreadful countenance,
Threatening a thousand deaths at every glance,
They answered Love, nor would vouchsafe so much
As one poor word, their hate to him was such.
Hearken a while and I will tell you why.
Heaven's winged herald, Jove-borne Mercury,
The selfsame day that he asleep had laid
Enchanted Argus, spied a country maid
Whose careless hair instead of pearl t'adorn it
Glistered with dew, as one that seemed to scorn it;
Her breath as fragrant as the morning rose,
Her mind pure, and her tongue untaught to gloze.
Yet proud she was (for lofty pride that dwells
In towered courts is oft in shepherds' cells.)
And too too well the fair vermilion knew,
And silver tincture of her cheeks, that drew
The love of every swain. On her this god
Enamoured was, and with his snaky rod
Did charm her nimble feet, and made her stay,
The while upon a hillock down he lay
And sweetly on his pipe began to play,
And with smooth speech her fancy to assay,
Till in his twining arms he locked her fast
And then he wooed with kisses; and at last,
As shepherds do, her on the ground he laid
And, tumbling in the grass, he often strayed
Beyond the bounds of shame, in being bold
To eye those parts which no eye should behold.
And, like an insolent commanding lover
Boasting his parentage, would needs discover
The way to new Elysium, but she,
Whose only dower was her chastity,
Having striv'n in vain was now about to cry
And crave the help of shepherds that were nigh.
Herewith he stayed his fury, and began
To give her leave to rise. Away she ran;
After went Mercury who used such cunning
As she, to hear his tale, left off her running.
Maids are not won by brutish force and might,
But speeches full of pleasure, and delight.
And, knowing Hermes courted her, was glad
That she such loveliness and beauty had
As could provoke his liking, yet was mute
And neither would deny nor grant his suit.
Still vowed he love. She, wanting no excuse
To feed him with delays, as women use,
Or thirsting after immortality, -
All women are ambitious naturally -
Imposed upon her lover such a task
As he ought not perform nor yet she ask.
A draught of flowing nectar she requested,
Wherewith the king of gods and men is feasted.
He, ready to accomplish what she willed,
Stole some from Hebe (Hebe Jove's cup filled)
And gave it to his simple rustic love.
Which being known (as what is hid from Jove?)
He inly stormed and waxed more furious
Than for the fire filched by Prometheus,
And thrusts him down from heaven. He, wandering here,
In mournful terms, with sad and heavy cheer,
Complained to Cupid. Cupid for his sake,
To be revenged on Jove did undertake.
And those on whom heaven, earth, and hell relies,
I mean the adamantine Destinies,
He wounds with love, and forced them equally
To dote upon deceitful Mercury.
They offered him the deadly fatal knife
That shears the slender threads of human life.
At his fair feathered feet the engines laid
Which th' earth from ugly Chaos' den upweighed.
These he regarded not but did entreat
That Jove, usurper of his father's seat,
Might presently be banished into hell,
And aged Saturn in Olympus dwell.
They granted what he craved, and once again
Saturn and Ops began their golden reign.
Murder, rape, war, lust, and treachery,
Were with Jove closed in Stygian empery.
But long this blessed time continued not.
As soon as he his wished purpose got
He reckless of his promise did despise
The love of th' everlasting Destinies.
They seeing it both love and him abhorred
And Jupiter unto his place restored.
And but that Learning in despite of Fate
Will mount aloft and enter heaven gate
And to the seat of Jove itself advance,
Hermes had slept in hell with Ignorance.
Yet as a punishment they added this,
That he and Poverty should always kiss.
And to this day is every scholar poor;
Gross gold from them runs headlong to the boor.
Likewise the angry Sisters thus deluded,
To venge themselves on Hermes, have concluded
That Midas' brood shall sit in honour's chair,
To which the Muses' sons are only heir;
And fruitful wits, that in aspiring are,
Shall discontent run into regions far;
And few great lords in virtuous deeds shall joy
But be surprised with every garish toy,
And still enrich the lofty servile clown,
Who with encroaching guile keeps learning down.
Then Muse not Cupid's suit no better sped,
Seeing in their loves the Fates were injured.

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In The Same Moment Death And Birth


In the same moment death and birth joy and sorrow,
A world that goes on contradicting itself in feeling-
No one forever happy always
And no light bright enough to forever shine -
In a world of constant contradiction,
Of never- ending dissonance,
Of always somewhere else something else-
In that world
And in ourselves
We must try to be at home and at one,
For the little time we have.

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