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When we are sad....

When we are sad....
every thing turn bad.
When we are sad....
we may heavily cry
and it's so hard to make it dry.
When we are sad....
we want to be alone
and we aren't even able to answer the phone.
When we are sad....
we keep pondering our past
but we don't satisfy ourselves at last.
When we are sad....
every happy smile completely disappear
and instantly it is replaced by a big tear.
When we are sad....
we feel a great coarse
and we don't even know its source.
When we are sad....
our vigorous spirit is vanished
and our energy is completely lavished.
When we are sad....
our feelings are discomposed
and our life is suddenly paused.
So when we are sad....
we lose every thing beautiful we had.

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When I answer the phone

The phone is ringing
I can just look at the clock
And know it's you

You always call
Around the same time
Your so predictable

I let the answering machine answer it
Because I don't feel like getting yelled at just yet
So you leave a stupid random message
That always seem to make me smile

Then the next time you call back
I answer it and you make me cry
You always seem to bring me down
And the worst part of it
Is that I think it makes you happy

So after we're done talking
I sit alone and cry
I should of known better
Not to answer the phone
When you call

But all my friends hear
those stupid random messages
And tell me how funny you are
And how lucky I am to have you around

But your not funny
And I'm not lucky to have you around
No one see's how badly you treat me
When you think no one is around

I just want someone to see
How you really are
They think it's me that has the problem

When it's you that has the problem
But no one will see it
Because your such a great actor

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The Best Thing You Ever Had

(yeah, blues!)
I wont ask where youre going
If you dont ask where Ive been
cause if youre looking for an answer, babe
I wouldnt know where to begin.
I dont know what I want sometimes
But I sure know what I likes
Youve got that thing about you
Gets me hot inside
If it makes no sense when I wrote this song
Cause half way through it you were turning me on
Chorus #1:
Lay me down
I just might be your kind
Ill show you a better way
We can do away the time
If you stop looking so hard
I think you just might find
I aint finding it so bad
Might be the best thing you ever had
You know a little bout love and
I know a lot about hate
I believe you gotta make things happen
You believe in fate
But this wont be the first time that
We didnt see eye to eye
You may not be religious but Ill make you see god
If you give me a try
I know love can get me through it
If you give me that look well get down to it
Chorus #2:
Dont shoot me down
Im not a social disease
Youve got that thing about you
Bring a grown man to his knees
Ill teach you baby
bout them birds and them bees
When you get around
And think about it aint so bad
Might be the best thing you ever had
Best thing I ever had
Solo
Ah, give me some of that!
When I put out the dog
Ya get them old ghosts out of bed.....
I aint looking for a little to say
Baby some place to lay my head
Im the one to right your wrong
If you give me a chance and Ill turn you on
Chorus #1
Chorus #2

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Best Thing You Ever Had

Yeah, Blues!)
I won't ask where you're going
If you don't ask where I've been
'Cause if you're looking for an answer, babe
I wouldn't know where to begin.
I don't know what I want sometimes
But I sure know what I likes
You've got that thing about you
Gets me hot inside
If it makes no sense when I wrote this song
Cause half way through it you were turning me on
Chorus #1:
Lay me down
I just might be your kind
I'll show you a better way
We can do away the time
If you stop looking so hard
I think you just might find
I ain't finding it so bad
Might be the best thing you ever had
You know a little 'bout love and
I know a lot about hate
I believe you gotta make things happen
You believe in fate
But this won't be the first time that
we didn't see eye to eye
You may not be religious but I'll make you see God
If you give me a try
I know love can get me through it
If you give me that look we'll get down to it
Chorus #2:
Don't shoot me down
I'm not a social disease
You've got that thing about you
Bring a grown man to his knees
I'll teach you baby
'bout them birds and them bees
When you get around
And think about it ain't so bad
Might be the best thing you ever had
Best thing I ever had
Solo
Ah, give me some of that!
When I put out the dog
ya get them old ghosts out of bed.....
I ain't looking for a little to say
Baby some place to lay my head
I'm the one to right your wrong
If you give me a chance and I'll turn you on
Chorus #1
Chorus #2

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Part VI

With a change
Of his whole manner, opens out at once
The Adversary.

"Now, my friend, for you!
You who, protected late, aggressive grown,
Brandish, it seems, a weapon I must 'ware!
Plain speech in me becomes respectable
Therefore, because courageous; plainly, then—
(Have lash well loose, hold handle tight and light!)
Throughout my life's experience, you indulged
Yourself and friend by passing in review
So courteously but now, I vainly search
To find one record of a specimen
So perfect of the pure and simple fool
As this you furnish me. Ingratitude
I lump with folly,—all's one lot,—so—fool!
Did I seek you or you seek me? Seek? sneak
For service to, and service you would style—
And did style—godlike, scarce an hour ago!
Fool, there again, yet not precisely there
First-rate in folly: since the hand you kissed
Did pick you from the kennel, did plant firm
Your footstep on the pathway, did persuade
Your awkward shamble to true gait and pace,
Fit for the world you walk in. Once a-strut
On that firm pavement which your cowardice
Was for renouncing as a pitfall, next
Came need to clear your brains of their conceit
They cleverly could distinguish who was who,
Whatever folk might tramp the thoroughfare.
Men, now—familiarly you read them off,
Each phyz at first sight! O you had an eye!
Who couched it? made you disappoint each fox
Eager to strip my gosling of his fluff
So golden as he cackled 'Goose trusts lamb?'
'Ay, but I saved you—wolf defeated fox—
Wanting to pick your bones myself!' then, wolf
Has got the worst of it with goose for once.
I, penniless, pay you ten thousand pounds
(—No gesture, pray! I pay ere I depart!)
And how you turn advantage to account
Here's the example! Have I proved so wrong
In my peremptory 'debt must be discharged'?
O you laughed lovelily, were loth to leave
The old friend out at elbows—pooh, a thing
Not to be thought of! I must keep my cash,
And you forget your generosity!
Ha ha, I took your measure when I laughed
My laugh to that! First quarrel—nay, first faint
Pretence at taking umbrage—'Down with debt,
Both interest and principal!—The Club,
Exposure and expulsion!—stamp me out!'
That's the magnanimous magnificent
Renunciation of advantage! Well,
But whence and why did you take umbrage, Sir?
Because your master, having made you know
Somewhat of men, was minded to advance,
Expound you women, still a mystery!
My pupil pottered with a cloud on brow,
A clod in breast: had loved, and vainly loved:
Whence blight and blackness, just for all the world
As Byron used to teach us boys. Thought I—
'Quick rid him of that rubbish! Clear the cloudy
And set the heart a-pulsing!'—heart, this time:
'Twas nothing but the head I doctored late
For ignorance of Man; now heart's to dose,
Palsied by over-palpitation due
To Woman-worship—so, to work at once
On first avowal of the patient's ache!
This morning you described your malady,—
How you dared love a piece of virtue—lost
To reason, as the upshot showed: for scorn
Fitly repaid your stupid arrogance;
And, parting, you went two ways, she resumed
Her path—perfection, while forlorn you paced
The world that's made for beasts like you and me.
My remedy was—tell the fool the truth!
Your paragon of purity had plumped
Into these arms at their first outspread—'fallen
My victim,' she prefers to turn the phrase—
And, in exchange for that frank confidence,
Asked for my whole life present and to come—
Marriage: a thing un covenanted for!
Never so much as put in question! Life
Implied by marriage—throw that trifle in
And round the bargain off, no otherwise
Than if, when we played cards, because you won
My money you should also want my head!
That, I demurred to: we but played 'for love'—
She won my love; had she proposed for stakes
'Marriage'—why, that's for whist, a wiser game.
Whereat she raved at me, as losers will,
And went her way. So far the story's known,
The remedy's applied, no farther—which
Here's the sick man's first honorarium for—
Posting his medicine-monger at the Club!
That being, Sir, the whole you mean my fee—
In gratitude for such munificence
I'm bound in common honesty to spare
No droplet of the draught: so,—pinch your nose,
Pull no wry faces!—drain it to the dregs!
I say 'She went off'—'went off,' you subjoin,
'Since not to wedded bliss, as I supposed,
Sure to some convent: solitude and peace
Help her to hide the shame from mortal view,
With prayer and fasting,' No, my sapient Sir!
Far wiselier, straightway she betook herself
To a prize-portent from the donkey-show
Of leathern long-ears that compete for palm
In clerical absurdity: since he,
Good ass, nor practises the shaving-trick,
The candle-crotchet, nonsense which repays
When you've young ladies congregant,—but schools
The poor,—toils, moils and grinds the mill nor means
To stop and munch one thistle in this life
Till next life smother him with roses: just
The parson for her purpose! Him she stroked
Over the muzzle; into mouth with bit,
And on to back with saddle,—there he stood,
The serviceable beast who heard, believed
And meekly bowed him to the burden,—borne
Off in a canter to seclusion—ay,
The lady's lost! But had a friend of mine
—While friend he was—imparted his sad case
To sympathizing counsellor, full soon
One cloud at least had vanished from his brow.
'Don't fear!' had followed reassuringly—
'The lost will in due time turn up again,
Probably just when, weary of the world,
You think of nothing less than settling-down
To country life and golden days, beside
A dearest best and brightest virtuousest
Wife: who needs no more hope to hold her own
Against the naughty-and-repentant—no,
Than water-gruel against Roman punch!'
And as I prophesied, it proves! My youth,—
Just at the happy moment when, subdued
To spooniness, he finds that youth fleets fast,
That town-life tires, that men should drop boy's-play,
That property, position have, no doubt,
Their exigency with their privilege,
And if the wealthy wed with wealth, how dire
The double duty!—in, behold, there beams
Our long-lost lady, form and face complete!
And where's my moralizing pupil now,
Had not his master missed a train by chance?
But, by your side instead of whirled away,
How have I spoiled scene, stopped catastrophe,
Struck flat the stage-effect I know by heart!
Sudden and strange the meeting—improvised?
Bless you, the last event she hoped or dreamed!
But rude sharp stroke will crush out fire from flint—
Assuredly from flesh. ''Tis you?' 'Myself.'
'Changed?' 'Changeless.' 'Then, what's earth to me?' 'To me
What's heaven?' 'So,—thine!' 'And thine!' 'And likewise mine!'
Had laughed 'Amen' the devil, but for me
Whose intermeddling hinders this hot haste,
And bids you, ere concluding contract, pause—
Ponder one lesson more, then sign and seal
At leisure and at pleasure,—lesson's price
Being, if you have skill to estimate,
—How say you?—I'm discharged my debt in full!
Since paid you stand, to farthing uttermost,
Unless I fare like that black majesty
A friend of mine had visit from last Spring.
Coasting along the Cape-side, he's becalmed
Off an uncharted bay, a novel town
Untouched at by the trader: here's a chance!
Out paddles straight the king in his canoe,
Comes over bulwark, says he means to buy
Ship's cargo—being rich and having brought
A treasure ample for the purpose. See!
Four dragons, stalwart blackies, guard the same
Wrapped round and round: its hulls, a multitude,—
Palm-leaf and cocoa-mat and goat's-hair cloth
All duly braced about with bark and board,—
Suggest how brave, 'neath coat, must kernel be!
At length the peeling is accomplished, plain
The casket opens out its core, and lo
A brand-new British silver sixpence—bid
That's ample for the Bank,—thinks majesty!
You are the Captain; call my sixpence cracked
Or copper; 'what I've said is calumny;
The lady's spotless!' Then, I'll prove my words,
Or make you prove them true as truth—yourself,
Here, on the instant! I'll not mince my speech,
Things at this issue. When she enters, then,
Make love to her! No talk of marriage now—
The point-blank bare proposal! Pick no phrase—
Prevent all misconception! Soon you'll see
How different the tactics when she deals
With an instructed man, no longer boy
Who blushes like a booby. Woman's wit!
Man, since you have instruction, blush no more!
Such your five minutes' profit by my pains,
'Tis simply now—demand and be possessed!
Which means—you may possess—may strip the tree
Of fruit desirable to make one wise!
More I nor wish nor want: your act's your act,
My teaching is but—there's the fruit to pluck
Or let alone at pleasure. Next advance
In knowledge were beyond you! Don't expect
I bid a novice—pluck, suck, send sky-high
Such fruit, once taught that neither crab nor sloe
Falls readier prey to who but robs a hedge,
Than this gold apple to my Hercules.
Were you no novice but proficient—then,
Then, truly, I might prompt you—Touch and taste,
Try flavour and be tired as soon as I!
Toss on the prize to greedy mouths agape,
Betake yours, sobered as the satiate grow,
To wise man's solid meal of house and land,
Consols and cousin! but my boy, my boy,
Such lore's above you!

Here's the lady back!
So, Madam, you have conned the Album-page
And come to thank its last contributor?
How kind and condescending! I retire
A moment, lest I spoil the interview,
And mar my own endeavour to make friends—
You with him, him with you, and both with me!
If I succeed—permit me to inquire
Five minutes hence! Friends bid good-bye, you know."
And out he goes.

poem by from The Inn Album (1875)Report problemRelated quotes
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The Poor Bugger Doesn’t Even Know What He Is Into

(in answer to Sally-Ann Murray)

How many times does a woman
set a task, wants a simple or more difficult thing
to be done by a man,
expects something like a embrace, a kiss
to proof that he is in love with her?

But when he does she rationalizes
that he is only great at that thing
and thinks about something else
for him to venture in, to proof his love

and the poor bugger doesn’t even know
what he is into
and how does a man understand
a woman really well
when she doesn’t even know herself?

Let me draw a picture to explain:
its a cloudy day and Penny wants to swim
and invites Johnny to join her
at the pool
and Johnny doesn’t really feel up to it,
looks with a worried eye
at the clouds drawing nearer,
at lightning bolts bashing down in the distance

but to make Penny happy Johnny gets undressed,
dresses in swimming trunks, ventures in,
dives from the springboard
in a perfect somersault
and then things are pretty great
between the two of them
but even before they get out of the pool
where rain, hail and thunder
greets them
Penny is convinced that Johnny
has only proofed that he can dive and swim.

[Reference: Surfacing by Sally-Ann Murray]

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I Dont Even Know Your Name

(alan jackson, ron jackson, andy loffin)
Well I was sitting in a roadhouse down on highway 41
You were wiping off some ketchup on a table that was done
I knw you didnt see me, I was in a corner booth
Of course you werent my waitress mine was missing her front tooth
So I flagged you down for coffee
But I couldnt say a thing
But Im in love with you baby and I dont even know your name
Im in love with you baby, I dont even know your name
Ive never been to good at all these sexual games
So maybe its just better if we leave it this way
Im in love with you baby and I dont even know your name
So I ordered straight tequila, a little courage in a shot
I asked you for a date and then I asked to tie the knot
I got a little wasted, yeah I went a little far
But I finally got to hug you when you helped me to my car
The last thing I remember I heard myself say
Im in love with you baby, I dont even know your name
Im in love with you baby, I dont even know your name
Ive never been to good at all these sexual games
So maybe its just better if we leave it this way
Im in love with you baby and I dont even know your name
The next thing I remember, I was hearing wedding bells
Standing by a woman in a long white lacy veil
I raised the veil, she smiled at me without her left front tooth
And I said where the heel am I and just who the hell are you?
She said i was your waitress and our last names now the same
cause i;m married to you baby and I dont even know your name
Im married to a waitress, I dont even know her name
Ive never been to good at all these sexual games
I never thought my love life would quite turn out this way
Hey Im married to a waitress and I dont even know her name

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Our Life's Greatest Treasure

Met in high school, still together
when college did come.
Graduation day, a joy for us two,
together we decided to be one,
darling, just me and you.

Two years passed and with a
baby girl we were blessed, like
two birds we had started our
loving nest. She brought such
joy to us, so in God we then
put all our trust.

We decided that we needed you
at home, so you became a 'stay at
home Mom.' Such loving care you
poured into out little one and
into our growing home.

Late the following spring, God had
blessed our lives again. A little
brother for our Sara Anne. We were
so happy, so filled with joy, God's gift
to us, a baby boy.

We watched them grow, and so close
they grew, bringing so much love to
me and you. We had such strength
in our little family, there was nothing
we couldn't do, in our hearts, love
would conquer all, this we knew.

The day little Joey turned two, another
blessing, as you gave us the news.
A long nine months, as so many
troubles you had, the day came when
once again you made me a Dad.
But when the doctor gave the news,
it left us broken hearted and sad.

You grew so weak, each breath came
far and few, I prayed to God, 'honey I
knew I couldn't lose you.' I held your hand,
as the children did cling to your side,
you took that last breath, 'honey that
was the moment the biggest part
of me died.'

An infant in my arms, two more standing,
clinging onto my side, the rose petals fell
so softly onto the mound of dirt, I don't
think I have ever felt such a hurt.
Remembering the touch of your hand,
the softness in your voice, alone now I
have to do this, I have no choice.

Each day on my way to work, and to take
the kids to school, we stop and give
a rose to you. We stand by you still
each day, and silently to God we pray.
We miss your tenderness, your hugs
and your sweet kiss.

It is hard day to day, the children and
I, trying to make our way. We see you
in the stars at night, we feel your hugs,
when I tuck them in tight. Their tears still
fall, as in the night your name they still
call. It's just not the same dear, since God
took you home, 'I have never felt
so alone.'

On the weekends to our ocean retreat,
through the mist of the oceans we
hear your voice so sweet. Remembering
the ocean to be your favorite place,
going back there, recapturing your
beautiful face.

Hearing your whipsers in the gentle
waves, saying your last goodbys
as you left us that day. Been a year
now, the pain is still there, but I know
you are at peace, in his loving care. 'Darling,
you gave us nothing but sheer pleasure,
and in Heaven I know, God now holds, our
life's greatest treasure.

No one will ever take your place, the
beauty you posessed will never
be found in any heart, nor on any face.
We know you are here with us each and
every day, without you dear, we
wouldn't make it through the day. I see
you in our children, in every tear that
they cry, rest peacefully now my love,
till we meet in our home that I know
you are preparing for us all, there in
the sky.

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Jack's Last Muster

The first flush of grey light, the herald of daylight,
Is dimly outlining the musterer's camp,
Where over the sleeping, the stealthily creeping
Breath of the morning lies chilly and damp,

As, blankets forsaking, 'twixt sleeping and waking,
The black-boys turn out to the manager's call;
Whose order, of course, is, "Be after the horses,
And take all sorts of care you unhobble them all."

Then, each with a bridle (provokingly idle)
They saunter away his commands to fulfil -
Where, cheerily chiming, the musical rhyming
From equine bell-ringers comes over the hill.

But now the dull dawning gives place to the morning,
The sun, springing up in a glorious flood
Of golden-shot fire, mounts higher and higher,
Till the crests of the sandhills are stained with his
blood.

Now the hobble-chains' jingling, with the thud of hoofs
mingling,
Though distant, sound near - the cool air is so still -
As, urged by their whooping, the horses come trooping
In front of the boys round the point of the hill.

What searching and rushing for bridles and brushing
Of saddle marks, tight'ning of breastplate and girth;
And what a strange jumble of laughter and grumble -
Some comrade's misfortune the subject of mirth.

I recollect well how that morning Jack Bell
Had an argument over the age of a mare,
That C O B gray one, the dam of that bay one
Which Brown the storekeeper calls the young Lady
Clare.

How Tomboy and Vanity caused much profanity,
Scamping away with their tales in the air,
Till after a chase, at a deuce of a pace,
They ran back in the mob and we collared them
there.

Then the laugh and the banter, as gaily we canter,
With a pause for the nags at a miniature lake,
Where the “yellowtop” catches the sunlight in patches,
And lies like a mirror of gold in our wake.

Oh! the rush and the rattle of fast-fleeing cattle,
Whose hoofs beat a mad rataplan on the earth;
Their hot headed flight in! Who would not delight in
The gallop that seems to hold all that life is worth.

And over the rolling plains, slowly patrolling
To the sound of the cattle's monotonous tramp,
Till we hear the sharp pealing of stockwhips,
revealing
The fact that our comrades have put on the camp.

From the spot where they're drafting the wind rises,
wafting
The dust, till it hides man and beast from our gaze,
Till, suddenly lifting and easterly drifting,
We catch a short glimpse of the scene through the
haze.

What a blending and blurring of swiftly recurring
Colour and movement, that pass on their way
An intricate weaving of sights and sounds, leaving
An eager desire to take part in the fray:

A dusty procession, in circling succession,
Of bullocks that bellow in impotent rage;
A bright panorama, a soul stirring drama,
The sky for its background, the earth for its stage.

How well I remember that twelfth of November,
When Jack and his little mare, Vanity, fell;
On the Diamantina there never was seen a
Pair who could cut out a beast half so well.

And yet in one second Death's finger had beckoned,
And horse and bold rider had answered the call
Brooking no hesitation, without preparation,
That sooner or later must come to us all.

Thrice a big curly horned Cobb bullock had scorned
To meekly acknowledge the ruling of fate;
Thrice Jack with a clout of his whip cut him out,
But each time the beast galloped back to his mate.

Once more, he came blund'ring along, with Jack
thund'ring
Beside him, his spurs in poor Vanity's flanks,
As, from some cause or other forsaking its mother,
A little white calf trotted out from the ranks.

'Twas useless, I knew it, yet I turned to pursue it;
At the same time, I gave a loud warning to Jack:
It was all unavailing, I saw him come sailing
Along as the weaner ran into his track.

Little Vanity tried to turn off on one side,
Then altered her mind and attempted to leap;
The pace was too fast, that jump was her last,
For she and her rider fell all in a heap.

I was quickly down kneeling beside him, and feeling
With tremulous hand for the throb of his heart.
"The mare - is she dead?" were the first words he
said,
As he suddenly opened his eyes with a start.

He spoke to the creature, his hand could just reach
her,
Gently caressing her lean Arab head;
She acknowledged his praising with eyes quickly
glazing,
A whinny, a struggle, and there she lay
dead.

I sat there and nursed his head, for we durst
Not remove him, we knew where he fell he would die.
As I watched his life flicker, his breath growing
thicker,
I'd have given the world to be able to cry.

Roughvoiced, sunburnt men, far away beyond ken
Of civilisation, our comrades, stood nigh,
All true hearted mourners, and sadly forlorn, as
He gave them a handshake and bade them goodbye.

In my loving embrace there he finished life's race,
And nobly and gamely that long course was run;
Though a man and a sinner he weighed out a winner,
And God, the Great Judge, will declare he has won.

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Squire Hawkins's Story

I hain't no hand at tellin' tales,
Er spinnin' yarns, as the sailors say;
Someway o' 'nother, language fails
To slide fer me in the oily way
That LAWYERS has; and I wisht it would,
Fer I've got somepin' that I call good;
But bein' only a country squire,
I've learned to listen and admire,
Ruther preferrin' to be addressed
Than talk myse'f--but I'll do my best:--

Old Jeff Thompson--well, I'll say,
Was the clos'test man I ever saw!--
Rich as cream, but the porest pay,
And the meanest man to work fer--La!
I've knowed that man to work one 'hand'--
Fer little er nothin', you understand--
From four o'clock in the morning light
Tel eight and nine o'clock at night,
And then find fault with his appetite!
He'd drive all over the neighberhood
To miss the place where a toll-gate stood,
And slip in town, by some old road
That no two men in the county knowed,
With a jag o' wood, and a sack o' wheat,
That wouldn't burn and you couldn't eat!
And the trades he'd make, 'll I jest de-clare,
Was enough to make a preacher swear!
And then he'd hitch, and hang about
Tel the lights in the toll-gate was blowed out,
And then the turnpike he'd turn in
And sneak his way back home ag'in!

Some folks hint, and I make no doubt,
That that's what wore his old wife out--
Toilin' away from day to day
And year to year, through heat and cold,
Uncomplainin'--the same old way
The martyrs died in the days of old;
And a-clingin', too, as the martyrs done,
To one fixed faith, and her ONLY one,--
Little Patience, the sweetest child
That ever wept unrickonciled,
Er felt the pain and the ache and sting
That only a mother's death can bring.

Patience Thompson!--I think that name
Must 'a' come from a power above,
Fer it seemed to fit her jest the same
As a GAITER would, er a fine kid glove!
And to see that girl, with all the care
Of the household on her--I de-clare
It was OUDACIOUS, the work she'd do,
And the thousand plans that she'd putt through;

And sing like a medder-lark all day long,
And drowned her cares in the joys o' song;
And LAUGH sometimes tel the farmer's 'hand,'
Away fur off in the fields, would stand
A-listenin', with the plow half drawn,
Tel the coaxin' echoes called him on;
And the furries seemed, in his dreamy eyes,
Like foot-paths a-leadin' to Paradise,
As off through the hazy atmosphere
The call fer dinner reached his ear.

Now LOVE'S as cunnin'a little thing
As a hummin'-bird upon the wing,
And as liable to poke his nose
Jest where folks would least suppose,--
And more'n likely build his nest
Right in the heart you'd leave unguessed,
And live and thrive at your expense--
At least, that's MY experience.
And old Jeff Thompson often thought,
In his se'fish way, that the quiet John
Was a stiddy chap, as a farm-hand OUGHT
To always be,--fer the airliest dawn
Found John busy--and 'EASY,' too,
Whenever his wages would fall due!--
To sum him up with a final touch,
He EAT so little and WORKED so much,
That old Jeff laughed to hisse'f and said,
'He makes ME money and airns his bread!--

But John, fer all of his quietude,
Would sometimes drap a word er so
That none but PATIENCE understood,
And none but her was MEANT to know!--
Maybe at meal-times John would say,
As the sugar-bowl come down his way,
'Thanky, no; MY coffee's sweet
Enough fer ME!' with sich conceit,
SHE'D know at once, without no doubt,
HE meant because she poured it out;
And smile and blush, and all sich stuff,
And ast ef it was 'STRONG enough?'
And git the answer, neat and trim,
'It COULDN'T be too 'strong' fer HIM!'

And so things went fer 'bout a year,
Tel John, at last, found pluck to go
And pour his tale in the old man's ear--
And ef it had been HOT LEAD, I know
It couldn't 'a' raised a louder fuss,
Ner 'a' riled the old man's temper wuss!
He jest LIT in, and cussed and swore,
And lunged and rared, and ripped and tore,
And told John jest to leave his door,
And not to darken it no more!
But Patience cried, with eyes all wet,
'Remember, John, and don't ferget,
WHATEVER comes, I love you yet!'
But the old man thought, in his se'fish way,
'I'll see her married rich some day;
And THAT,' thinks he, 'is money fer ME--
And my will's LAW, as it ought to be!'

So when, in the course of a month er so,
A WIDOWER, with a farm er two,
Comes to Jeff's, w'y, the folks, you know,
Had to TALK--as the folks'll do:
It was the talk of the neighberhood--
PATIENCE and JOHN, and THEIR affairs;--
And this old chap with a few gray hairs
Had 'cut John out,' it was understood.
And some folks reckoned 'Patience, too,
Knowed what SHE was a-goin' to do--
It was LIKE her--la! indeed!--
All she loved was DOLLARS and CENTS--
Like old JEFF--and they saw no need
Fer JOHN to pine at HER negligence!'

But others said, in a KINDER way,
They missed the songs she used to sing--
They missed the smiles that used to play
Over her face, and the laughin' ring
Of her glad voice--that EVERYthing
Of her OLD se'f seemed dead and gone,
And this was the ghost that they gazed on!

Tel finally it was noised about
There was a WEDDIN' soon to be
Down at Jeff's; and the 'cat was out'
Shore enough!--'Ll the JEE-MUN-NEE!
It RILED me when John told me so,--
Fer _I_ WAS A FRIEND O' JOHN'S, you know;
And his trimblin' voice jest broke in two--
As a feller's voice'll sometimes do.--
And I says, says I, 'Ef I know my biz--
And I think I know what JESTICE is,--
I've read SOME law--and I'd advise
A man like you to wipe his eyes
And square his jaws and start AGIN,
FER JESTICE IS A-GOIN' TO WIN!'
And it wasn't long tel his eyes had cleared
As blue as the skies, and the sun appeared
In the shape of a good old-fashioned smile
That I hadn't seen fer a long, long while.

So we talked on fer a' hour er more,
And sunned ourselves in the open door,--
Tel a hoss-and-buggy down the road
Come a-drivin' up, that I guess John KNOWED,--
Fer he winked and says, 'I'll dessappear--
THEY'D smell a mice ef they saw ME here!'
And he thumbed his nose at the old gray mare,
And hid hisse'f in the house somewhere.

Well.--The rig drove up: and I raised my head
As old Jeff hollered to me and said
That 'him and his old friend there had come
To see ef the squire was at home.'
. . . I told 'em 'I was; and I AIMED to be
At every chance of a weddin'-fee!'
And then I laughed--and they laughed, too,--
Fer that was the object they had in view.
'Would I be on hands at eight that night?'
They ast; and 's-I, 'You're mighty right,
I'LL be on hand!' And then I BU'ST
Out a-laughin' my very wu'st,--
And so did they, as they wheeled away
And drove to'rds town in a cloud o' dust.
Then I shet the door, and me and John
Laughed and LAUGHED, and jest LAUGHED on,
Tel Mother drapped her specs, and BY
JEEWHILLIKERS! I thought she'd DIE!--
And she couldn't 'a' told, I'll bet my hat,
What on earth she was laughin' at!

But all o' the fun o' the tale hain't done!--
Fer a drizzlin' rain had jest begun,
And a-havin' 'bout four mile' to ride,
I jest concluded I'd better light
Out fer Jeff's and save my hide,--
Fer IT WAS A-GOIN' TO STORM, THAT NIGHT!
So we went down to the barn, and John
Saddled my beast, and I got on;
And he told me somepin' to not ferget,
And when I left, he was LAUGHIN' yet.

And, 'proachin' on to my journey's end,
The great big draps o' the rain come down,
And the thunder growled in a way to lend
An awful look to the lowerin' frown
The dull sky wore; and the lightnin' glanced
Tel my old mare jest MORE'N pranced,
And tossed her head, and bugged her eyes
To about four times their natchurl size,
As the big black lips of the clouds 'ud drap
Out some oath of a thunderclap,
And threaten on in an undertone
That chilled a feller clean to the bone!

But I struck shelter soon enough
To save myse'f. And the house was jammed
With the women-folks, and the weddin'stuff:--
A great, long table, fairly CRAMMED
With big pound-cakes--and chops and steaks--
And roasts and stews--and stumick-aches
Of every fashion, form, and size,
From twisters up to punkin-pies!
And candies, oranges, and figs,
And reezins,--all the 'whilligigs'
And 'jim-cracks' that the law allows
On sich occasions!--Bobs and bows
Of gigglin' girls, with corkscrew curls,
And fancy ribbons, reds and blues,
And 'beau-ketchers' and 'curliques'
To beat the world! And seven o'clock
Brought old Jeff;-and brought--THE GROOM,--
With a sideboard-collar on, and stock
That choked him so, he hadn't room
To SWALLER in, er even sneeze,
Er clear his th'oat with any case
Er comfort--and a good square cough
Would saw his Adam's apple off!

But as fer PATIENCE--MY! Oomh-OOMH!--
I never saw her look so sweet!--
Her face was cream and roses, too;
And then them eyes o' heavenly blue
Jest made an angel all complete!
And when she split 'em up in smiles
And splintered 'em around the room,
And danced acrost and met the groom,
And LAUGHED OUT LOUD--It kind o' spiles
My language when I come to that--
Fer, as she laid away his hat,
Thinks I, 'THE PAPERS HID INSIDE
OF THAT SAID HAT MUST MAKE A BRIDE
A HAPPY ONE FER ALL HER LIFE,
Er else a WRECKED AND WRETCHED WIFE!'
And, someway, then, I thought of JOHN,--
Then looked towards PATIENCE. . . . She was GONE!--
The door stood open, and the rain
Was dashin' in; and sharp and plain
Above the storm we heerd a cry--
A ringin', laughin', loud 'Good-by!'
That died away, as fleet and fast
A hoss's hoofs went splashin' past!
And that was all. 'Twas done that quick! . . .
You've heerd o' fellers 'lookin' sick'?
I wisht you'd seen THE GROOM jest then--
I wisht you'd seen them two old men,
With starin' eyes that fairly GLARED
At one another, and the scared
And empty faces of the crowd,--
I wisht you could 'a' been allowed
To jest look on and see it all,--
And heerd the girls and women bawl
And wring their hands; and heerd old Jeff
A-cussin' as he swung hisse'f
Upon his hoss, who champed his bit
As though old Nick had holt of it:
And cheek by jowl the two old wrecks
Rode off as though they'd break their necks.

And as we all stood starin' out
Into the night, I felt the brush
Of some one's hand, and turned about,
And heerd a voice that whispered, 'HUSH!--
THEY'RE WAITIN' IN THE KITCHEN, AND
YOU'RE WANTED. DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?'
Well, ef my MEMORY serves me now,
I think I winked.--Well, anyhow,
I left the crowd a-gawkin' there,
And jest slipped off around to where
The back door opened, and went in,
And turned and shet the door ag'in,
And maybe LOCKED it--couldn't swear,--
A woman's arms around me makes
Me liable to make mistakes.--
I read a marriage license nex',
But as I didn't have my specs
I jest INFERRED it was all right,
And tied the knot so mortal-tight
That Patience and my old friend John
Was safe enough from that time on!

Well, now, I might go on and tell
How all the joke at last leaked out,
And how the youngsters raised the yell
And rode the happy groom about
Upon their shoulders; how the bride
Was kissed a hunderd times beside
The one _I_ give her,--tel she cried
And laughed untel she like to died!
I might go on and tell you all
About the supper--and the BALL.--
You'd ought to see me twist my heel
Through jest one old Furginny reel
Afore you die! er tromp the strings
Of some old fiddle tel she sings
Some old cowtillion, don't you know,
That putts the devil in yer toe!

We kep' the dancin' up tel FOUR
O'clock, I reckon--maybe more.--
We hardly heerd the thunders roar,
ER THOUGHT about the STORM that blowed--
AND THEM TWO FELLERS ON THE ROAD!
Tel all at onc't we heerd the door
Bu'st open, and a voice that SWORE,--
And old Jeff Thompson tuck the floor.
He shuck hisse'f and looked around
Like some old dog about half-drowned--
HIS HAT, I reckon, WEIGHED TEN POUND
To say the least, and I'll say, SHORE,
HIS OVERCOAT WEIGHED FIFTY more--
THE WETTEST MAN YOU EVER SAW,
TO HAVE SO DRY A SON-IN-LAW!

He sized it all; and Patience laid
Her hand in John's, and looked afraid,
And waited. And a stiller set
O' folks, I KNOW, you never met
In any court room, where with dread
They wait to hear a verdick read.

The old man turned his eyes on me:
'And have you married 'em?' says he.
I nodded 'Yes.' 'Well, that'll do,'
He says, 'and now we're th'ough with YOU,--
YOU jest clear out, and I decide
And promise to be satisfied!'
He hadn't nothin' more to say.
I saw, of course, how matters lay,
And left. But as I rode away
I heerd the roosters crow fer day.

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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
Shutter and shutter, shows you England's best.
He leans into a living glory-bath
Of air and light where seems to float and move
The wooded watered country, hill and dale
And steel-bright thread of stream, a-smoke with mist,
A-sparkle with May morning, diamond drift
O' the sun-touched dew. Except the red-roofed patch
Of half a dozen dwellings that, crept close
For hill-side shelter, make the village-clump
This inn is perched above to dominate—
Except such sign of human neighborhood,
(And this surmised rather than sensible)
There's nothing to disturb absolute peace,
The reign of English nature—which mean art
And civilized existence. Wildness' self
Is just the cultured triumph. Presently
Deep solitude, be sure, reveals a Place
That knows the right way to defend itself:
Silence hems round a burning spot of life.
Now, where a Place burns, must a village brood,
And where a village broods, an inn should boast—
Close and convenient: here you have them both.
This inn, the Something-arms—the family's
(Don't trouble Guillim; heralds leave our half!)
Is dear to lovers of the picturesque,
And epics have been planned here; but who plan
Take holy orders and find work to do.
Painters are more productive, stop a week,
Declare the prospect quite a Corot,—ay,
For tender sentiment,—themselves incline
Rather to handsweep large and liberal;
Then go, but not without success achieved
—Haply some pencil-drawing, oak or beech,
Ferns at the base and ivies up the bole,
On this a slug, on that a butterfly.
Nay, he who hooked the salmo pendent here,
Also exhibited, this same May-month,
'Foxgloves: a study' —so inspires the scene,
The air, which now the younger personage
Inflates him with till lungs o'erfraught are fain
Sigh forth a satisfaction might bestir
Even those tufts of tree-tops to the South
I' the distance where the green dies off to grey,
Which, easy of conjecture, front the Place;
He eyes them, elbows wide, each hand to cheek.
His fellow, the much older—either say
A youngish-old man or man oldish-young—
Sits at the table: wicks are noisome-deep
In wax, to detriment of plated ware;
Above—piled, strewn—is store of playing-cards,
Counters and all that's proper for a game.
He sets down, rubs out figures in the book, 100
Adds and subtracts, puts back here, carries there.
Until the summed-up satisfaction stands
Apparent, and he pauses o'er the work:
Soothes what of brain was busy under brow.
By passage of the hard palm, curing so
Wrinkle and crowfoot for a second's space;
Then lays down book and laughs out. No mistake.
Such the sum-total—ask Colenso else!

Roused by which laugh, the other turns, laughs too—
The youth, the good strong fellow, rough perhaps.

"Well, what's the damage—three, or four, or five?
How many figures in a row! Hand here!
Come now, there's one expense all yours not mine—
Scribbling the people's Album over, leaf
The first and foremost too! You think, perhaps,
They'll only charge you for a brand-new book
Nor estimate the literary loss?
Wait till the small account comes! 'To one night's
Lodging'—for 'beds,' they can't say,— 'pound or so;
Dinner, Apollinaris,—what they please,
Attendance not included;' last looms large
'Defacement of our Album, late enriched
With' —let's see what! Here, at the window, though!
Ay, breathe the morning and forgive your luck!
Fine enough country for a fool like me
To own, as next month I suppose I shall!
Eh? True fool's-fortune! so console yourself.
Let's see, however—hand the book, I say!
Well, you've improved the classic by romance.
Queer reading! Verse with parenthetic prose
'Hail, calm acclivity, salubrious spot!'
(Three-two fives ) 'life how profitably spent'
(Five-naught, five-nine fives) 'yonder humble cot'
(More and more naughts and fives) 'in mild content;
And did my feelings find the natural vent
In friendship and in love, how blest my lot!'
Then follow the dread figures—five! 'Content!'
That's apposite! Are you content as he—
Simpkin the sonneteer? Ten thousand pounds
Give point to his effusion—by so much
Leave me the richer and the poorer you
After our night's play; who's content the most,
I, you, or Simpkin?"

So the polished snob,
The elder man, refinement every inch
From brow to boot-end, quietly replies:

"Simpkin's no name I know. I had my whim."

"Ay, had you! And such things make friendship thick.
Intimates I may boast we were; henceforth,
Friends—shall it not be?—who discard reserve,
Use plain words, put each dot upon each i,
Till death us twain do part? The bargain's struck!
Old fellow, if you fancy—(to begin—)
I felled to penetrate your scheme last week,
You wrong your poor disciple. Oh, no airs!
Because you happen to be twice my age
And twenty times my master, must perforce
No blink of daylight struggle through the web
There's no unwinding? You entoil my legs,
And welcome, for I like it: blind me,—no!
A very pretty piece of shuttle-work
Was that—your mere chance question at the club—
'Do you go anywhere this Whitsuntide?
I'm off for Paris, there's the Opera—there's
The Salon, there's a china-sale,—beside
Chantilly; and, for good companionship,
There's Such-and-such and So-and-so. Suppose
We start together?' 'No such holiday!'
I told you: 'Paris and the rest be hanged!
Why plague me who am pledged to home-delights?
I'm the engaged now; through whose fault but yours?
On duty. As you well know. Don't I drowse
The week away down with the Aunt and Niece?
No help: it's leisure, loneliness and love.
Wish I could take you; but fame travels fast,—
A man of much newspaper-paragraph,
You scare domestic circles; and beside
Would not you like your lot, that second taste
Of nature and approval of the grounds!
You might walk early or lie late, so shirk
Week-day devotions: but stay Sunday o'er,
And morning church is obligatory:
No mundane garb permissible, or dread
The butler's privileged monition! No!
Pack off to Paris, nor wipe tear away!'
Whereon how artlessly the happy flash
Followed, by inspiration! 'Tell you what—
Let's turn their flank, try things on t'other side!
Inns for my money! Liberty's the life!
We'll lie in hiding: there's the crow-nest nook,
The tourist's joy, the Inn they rave about,
Inn that's out—out of sight and out of mind
And out of mischief to all four of us—
Aunt and niece, you and me. At night arrive;
At morn, find time for just a Pisgah-view
Of my friend's Land of Promise; then depart.
And while I'm whizzing onward by first train,
Bound for our own place (since my Brother sulks
And says I shun him like the plague) yourself—
Why, you have stepped thence, start from platform, gay
Despite the sleepless journey,—love lends wings,— 200
Hug aunt and niece who, none the wiser, wait
The faithful advent! Eh?' 'With all my heart,'
Said I to you; said I to mine own self:
'Does he believe I fail to comprehend
He wants just one more final friendly snack
At friend's exchequer ere friend runs to earth,
Marries, renounces yielding friends such sport?'
And did I spoil sport, pull face grim,—nay, grave?
Your pupil does you better credit! No!
I parleyed with my pass-book,—rubbed my pair
At the big balance in my banker's hands,—
Folded a cheque cigar-case-shape,—just wants
Filling and signing,—and took train, resolved
To execute myself with decency
And let you win—if not Ten thousand quite,
Something by way of wind-up-farewell burst
Of firework-nosegay! Where's your fortune fled?
Or is not fortune constant after all?
You lose ten thousand pounds: had I lost half
Or half that, I should bite my lips, I think.
You man of marble! Strut and stretch my best
On tiptoe, I shall never reach your height.
How does the loss feel! Just one lesson more!"

The more refined man smiles a frown away.

"The lesson shall be—only boys like you
Put such a question at the present stage.
I had a ball lodge in my shoulder once.
And, full five minutes, never guessed the fact;
Next day, I felt decidedly: and still.
At twelve years' distance, when I lift my arm
A twinge reminds me of the surgeon's probe.
Ask me, this day month, how I feel my luck!
And meantime please to stop impertinence.
For—don't I know its object? All this chaff
Covers the corn, this preface leads to speech.
This boy stands forth a hero. 'There, my lord!
Our play was true play, fun not earnest! I
Empty your purse, inside out, while my poke
Bulges to bursting? Tou can badly spare
A doit, confess now, Duke though brother be!
While I'm gold-daubed so thickly, spangles drop
'And show my father's warehouse-apron: pshaw!
Enough! We've had a palpitating night!
Good morning! Breakfast and forget our dreams!
My mouth's shut, mind! I tell nor man nor mouse.'
There, see! He don't deny it! Thanks, my boy!
Hero and welcome—only, not on me
Make trial of your 'prentice-hand! Enough!
We've played, I've lost and owe ten thousand pounds,
Whereof I muster, at the moment,—well,
What's for the bill here and the back to town.
Still, I've my little character to keep:
You may expect your money at month's end."

The young man at the window turns round quick—
A clumsy giant handsome creature; grasps
In his large red the little lean white hand
Of the other, looks him in the sallow face.

"I say now—is it right to so mistake
A fellow, force him in mere self-defence
To spout like Mister Mild Acclivity
In album-language? You know well enough
Whether I like you—like 's no album-word
Anyhow: point me to one soul beside
In the wide world I care one straw about!
I first set eyes on you a year ago;
Since when you've done me good—I'll stick to it
More than I got in the whole twenty-five
That make my life up, Oxford years and all—
Throw in the three I fooled away abroad.
Seeing myself and nobody more sage
Until I met you, and you made me man
Such as the sort is and the fates allow.
I do think, since we two kept company,
I've learnt to know a little—all through you!
It's nature if I like you. Taunt away!
As if I need you teaching me my place—
The snob I am, the Duke your brother is.
When just the good you did was—teaching me
My own trade, how a snob and millionaire
May lead his life and let the Duke's alone,
Clap wings, free jackdaw, on his steeple-perch,
Burnish his black to gold in sun and air,
Nor pick up stray plumes, strive to match in strut
Regular peacocks who can't fly an inch
Over the courtyard-paling. Head and heart
(That's album-style) are older than you know.
For all your knowledge: boy, perhaps—ay, boy
Had his adventure, just as he were man—
His ball-experience in the shoulder-blade,
His bit of life-long ache to recognize,
Although he bears it cheerily about.
Because you came and clapped him on the back.
Advised him 'Walk and wear the aching off!'
Why, I was minded to sit down for life
Just in Dalmatia, build a sea-side tower
High on a rock, and so expend my days
Pursuing chemistry or botany
Or, very like, astronomy because
I noticed stars shone when I passed the place:
Letting my cash accumulate the while 300
In England—to lay out in lump at last
As Ruskin should direct me! All or some
Of which should I have done or tried to do,
And preciously repented, one fine day,
Had you discovered Timon, climbed his rock
And scaled his tower, some ten years thence, suppose,
And coaxed his story from him! Don't I see
The pair conversing! It's a novel writ
Already, I'll be bound,—our dialogue!
'What?' cried the elder and yet youthful man—
So did the eye flash 'neath the lordly front,
And the imposing presence swell with scorn,
As the haught high-bred bearing and dispose
Contrasted with his interlocutor
The flabby low-born who, of bulk before,
Had steadily increased, one stone per week,
Since his abstention from horse-exercise:—
'What? you, as rich as Rothschild, left, you say,
London the very year you came of age,
Because your father manufactured goods—
Commission-agent hight of Manchester—
Partly, and partly through a baby case
Of disappointment I've pumped out at last
And here you spend life's prime in gaining flesh
And giving science one more asteroid?'
Brief, my dear fellow, you instructed me.
At Alfred's and not Istria! proved a snob
May turn a million to account although
His brother be no Duke, and see good days
Without the girl he lost and some one gained.
The end is, after one year's tutelage.
Having, by your help, touched society.
Polo, Tent-pegging, Hurlingham, the Rink—
I leave all these delights, by your advice,
And marry my young pretty cousin here
Whose place, whose oaks ancestral you behold.
(Her father was in partnership with mine—
Does not his purchase look a pedigree?)
My million will be tails and tassels smart
To this plump-bodied kite, this house and land
Which, set a-soaring, pulls me, soft as sleep,
Along life's pleasant meadow,—arm left free
To lock a friend's in,—whose but yours, old boy?
Arm in arm glide we over rough and smooth,
While hand, to pocket held, saves cash from cards.
Now, if you don't esteem ten thousand pounds
(—Which I shall probably discover snug
Hid somewhere in the column-corner capped
With 'Credit,' based on 'Balance,' —which, I swear,
By this time next month I shall quite forget
Whether I lost or won—ten thousand pounds,
Which at this instant I would give . . . let's see.
For Galopin—nay, for that Gainsborough
Sir Richard won't sell, and, if bought by me,
Would get my glance and praise some twice a year,—
Well, if you don't esteem that price dirt-cheap
For teaching me Dalmatia was mistake—
Why then, my last illusion-bubble breaks,
My one discovered phœnix proves a goose,
My cleverest of all companions—oh,
Was worth nor ten pence nor ten thousand pounds!
Come! Be yourself again! So endeth here
The morning's lesson! Never while life lasts
Do I touch card again. To breakfast now!
To bed—I can't say, since you needs must start
For station early—oh, the down-train still,
First plan and best plan—townward trip be hanged!
You're due at your big brother's—pay that debt.
Then owe me not a farthing! Order eggs—
And who knows but there's trout obtainable?"

The fine man looks well-nigh malignant: then—

"Sir, please subdue your manner! Debts are debts:
I pay mine—debts of this sort—certainly.
What do I care how you regard your gains.
Want them or want them not? The thing I want
Is—not to have a story circulate
From club to club—how, bent on clearing out
Young So-and-so, young So-and-so cleaned me,
Then set the empty kennel flush again.
Ignored advantage and forgave his friend—
For why? There was no wringing blood from stone!
Oh, don't be savage! You would hold your tongue,
Bite it in two, as man may; but those small
Hours in the smoking-room, when instance apt
Rises to tongue's root, tingles on to tip,
And the thinned company consists of six
Capital well-known fellows one may trust!
Next week, it's in the 'World.' No, thank you much.
I owe ten thousand pounds: I'll pay them!"

"Now,—
This becomes funny. You've made friends with me?
I can't help knowing of the ways and means!
Or stay! they say your brother closets up
Correggio's long-lost Leda: if he means
To give you that, and if you give it me . . ."

"I polished snob off to aristocrat?
You compliment me! father's apron still
Sticks out from son's court-vesture: still silk purse
Roughs finger with some bristle sow-ear-born!
Well, neither I nor you mean harm at heart!
I owe you and shall pay you: which premised, 400
Why should what follows sound like flattery?
The fact is—you do compliment too much
Your humble master, as I own I am;
You owe me no such thanks as you protest.
The polisher needs precious stone no less
Than precious stone needs polisher: believe
I struck no tint from out you but I found
Snug lying first 'neath surface hair-breadth-deep!
Beside, I liked the exercise: with skill
Goes love to show skill for skill's sake. You see,
I'm old and understand things: too absurd
It were you pitched and tossed away your life.
As diamond were Scotch-pebble! all the more,
That I myself misused a stone of price.
Born and bred clever—people used to say
Clever as most men, if not something more—
Yet here I stand a failure, cut awry
Or left opaque,—no brilliant named and known,
Whatever my inner stuff, my outside's blank:
I'm nobody—or rather, look that same—
I'm—who I am—and know it; but I hold
What in my hand out for the world to see?
What ministry, what mission, or what book
I'll say, book even? Not a sign of these!
I began—laughing— 'All these when I like!'
I end with—well, you've hit it!— 'This boy's cheque
For just as many thousands as he he'll spare!'
The first—I could, and would not; your spare cash
I would, and could not: have no scruple, pray,
But, as I hoped to pocket yours, pouch mine
When you are able!"

"Which iswhen to be?
I've heard, great characters require a fall
Of fortune to show greatness by uprise:
They touch the ground to jollily rebound,
Add to the Album! Let a fellow share
Your secret of superiority!
I know, my banker makes the money breed
Money; I eat and sleep, he simply takes
The dividends and cuts the coupons off,
Sells out, buys in, keeps doubling, tripling cash,
While I do nothing but receive and spend.
But you, spontaneous generator, hatch
A wind-egg; cluck, and forth struts Capital
As Interest to me from egg of gold.
I am grown curious: pay me by all means!
How will you make the money?"

"Mind your own—
Not my affair. Enough: or money, or
Money's worth, as the case may be, expect
Ere month's end,—keep but patient for a month!
Who's for a stroll to station? Ten's the time;
Your man, with my things, follow in the trap;
At stoppage of the down-train, play the arrived
On platform, and you'll show the due fatigue
Of the night-journey,—not much sleep,—perhaps,
Your thoughts were on before you—yes, indeed.
You join them, being happily awake
With thought's sole object as she smiling sits
At breakfast-table. I shall dodge meantime
In and out station-precinct, wile away
The hour till up my engine pants and smokes.
No doubt, she goes to fetch you. Never fear!
She gets no glance at me, who shame such saints!"

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Our Life

Our life appears akin the floor
Of mosaic tiles, spotted, three hues;
Each tile denotes a month that passed;
The spots refer to good and bad!

Umpteen are grey spots – venial sins,
By habit done, incessantly;
The fewer black spots – mortal sins,
Against the Ten Commands of God!

The spots of white were good deeds done;
Some tiles had few, some had galore;
The size of dots too varied much;
Such tiles were scarcely found and rare!

We yearn to see the floor all tiled,
With spots of white, all huge and bright;
Yet, earthly life is what we make
By labour, done in heaven’s light!


(24-07-11)

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Time Of Our Life

Hey, I can see that smile on your face
Tonight, memories will never erase
And I feel like our time has come
Our hearts are beating wild as one
True love, I know is hard to find
But you tonight, You're mine
Didn't we have the time of our life tonight
Didn't we have the time of our life tonight
Hey, I hope you feel the same way I feel
Cause tonight the moon, the stars,
This moment is so real, To us we had everything
Our hearts have a song to sing
We now know that dreams come true
Cause now there's me and you
Didn't we have the time of our life tonight
Didn't we have the time of our life tonight
Didn't we have the time of our life tonight
Didn't we have the time of our life tonight
Didn't we dance the night away
What can I say to you, You make life a holiday
Let's go and play, Let's go and play
Didn't we have the time of our life tonight
Didn't we have the time of our life tonight
Didn't we have the time of our life tonight
Didn't we have the time of our life tonight
Come on and sing the song
Come on and sing along

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Do You Even Know Me?

Do you even know me?
I walk down the street so many are completely oblivious to who I really am.
I wish to know everyone.

Like best friends.
To trust, in the inner most exposing.
A naked body cradled lying on the ground.
Water flows freely to every extremity.
Feeling equal inside.
Throwing away every last bit of pride.

Do you even know me?
I walk down the street so many are completely oblivious to who I really am.
I wish to know everyone.

A persona amplified by class.
I want to eliminate all of it as I pass.
We are all flawed.
Why in our eyes all that is seen is rejection?
Stay away from me you have an infection.
A carcinogenic ailment.
Oh it spreads to quickly.

Do you even know me?
I walk down the street so many are completely oblivious to who I really am.
I wish to know everyone.

Do you even know me?
I walk down the street so many are completely oblivious to who I really am.
I wish to know everyone.

Do you even know me?
I walk down the street so many are completely oblivious to who I really am.
I wish to know everyone.

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A Blank Page Blues

I know we have all done it,
sat in front of a pristine white sheet of paper
and got ready to write something down,
and then we are confronted
with the blank page blues.
The words of inspiration
then scurry and hide away.
You are left with pen in hand,
scratching your head
wondering what to say.
There is no cure for this syndrome;
writers get it all the time.
Some call it a writer’s block,
when nothing comes into your head.
You sit in front of a blank page.
You know what you want to write,
then someone disturbs you
and the words disappear out of sight.
How many times have we had that?
We sit down to write our masterpiece
and the telephone rings,
or someone shouts your dinner is getting cold.
You feel like screaming,
but you take it on the chin.
You lay down your pen,
answer the phone or have your dinner,
and when you come back,
the blank page confronts you.
Still you cannot write anything on it.
You stare at it for hours,
until finally you get tired
and journey off to bed.
Hoping and hoping tomorrow
a little peace, it will bring
and your words on that blank page
will really begin to sing.

10 May 2008

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Garbo

She had exquisite style
She was upper class
She had supernatural grace
A mlange of aphrodite and venus
Combined with an angels face
She didnt talk to the press
She couldnt care less
She didnt even answer the phone
She said on one occasion, without persuasion:
I want to be left alone
From this moment on, from dusk till dawn
Till the end of time, Ill be with you
Youll be with me, forever in my mind
Its you I see before me, oh oh, garbo
Cest toi que je tadore, oh oh, garbo
A lovers greatest story, oh oh, garbo
They say well thats amore! oh oh, garbo
People say on the day of victory, no fatigue is felt
Garbo, its you that has the power
That makes evry mans heart melt
They say that, when the heart is a fire
Sparks fly out of the cage but beauty is like a good wine,
The taste is sweeter with age
No man can guess in cold blood
What he might do in passion
But the things that he deplores today
Are tomorrows latest fashion
Serving ones own passion
Is the greatest slavery
But if in wanting you
I become your slave
I intend no bravery
From this moment on, from dusk till dawn
Till the end of time, Ill be with you
Youll be with me, forever in my mind
Its you I see before me...
....garbo

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Let's Go For Our Walk

A festive time they had.
Wining and dining,
And sipping on the best champagne.
The only complaints heard,
Were the hors d'oeuvres were late
In being served.
And the servants' shoes were not shined.

Times change overnight!
These same folks are finding themselves uptight.
Every dime that they had and their homes are gone.
Investments made and lives lived on good credit...
Came thundering to an end,
With the event for them was a freakish storm!

'Horace? Where's our money, dear? '

Horace snapped his mind...
When their 401k took a deep decline!
And the banks stopped all loans and credit...
As excuses for bankruptcy,
Bank executives could not find!

And the greatest of their pretensions,
Became as worthless as they saw those homeless!

Now the churches seem packed with redeemers...
But God does not control the mint!
And the demons who prayed to keep their lifestyles worshipped,
Suffer pain and hardships from their own decadence.

'Grandpa...
Why do you always keep your shoes shined? '

It's a reminder to keep myself respected.
And my steps grateful to be taken in simplicity.
Feeling blessed.

'I don't understand.'

You will one day.
Come on...
Let's go for our walk.

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Our Good Friend Roger

Roger belongs to the chosen few
Who are far more accomplished than me or you,
While we are uncertain, they know what to do
Should they be feeling lonely or anxious or blue.

Roger's a winner, he knows where to go
And who to take with him to the latest show,
If he offers you a drink it's rude to say 'No' -
There's no doubt about it, Roger's a pro.

Some women are smitten by the look in his eyes
And fall for the man with the perfect disguise;
I was like them myself, taken in by his lies -
I didn't want to be someone Roger would despise.

He's no time for weakness, our immaculate friend,
There aren't many people Roger can't bend
To follow his instructions right to the end
Whatever the dictates of conscience pretend.

So, if you're like me, you may get a surprise
When you're down on your luck with tears in your eyes,
Suddenly Roger won't answer the phone,
Your hero will vanish and leave you alone.

Roger's no time for negative things,
The responsibilities that friendship brings,
He thinks complications are an awful bore
So please don't come running and knock on his door.

While you're swallowing pills washed down with some gin
Roger's just longing for the fun to begin,
He's throwing a party on his fabulous yacht,
Did you think he would ring you? Perhaps he forgot.

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Across The Borderline

(ry cooder/john hiatt/james dickinson)
Theres a place where Ive been told
Every street is paved with gold
And its just across the borderline
And when its time to take your turn
Heres one lesson that you must learn
You could lose more than youll ever hope to find
When you reach the broken promised land
And every dream slips through your hands
Then youll know that its too late to change your mind
cause youve paid the price to come so far
Just to wind up where you are
And youre still just across the borderline
Up and down the rio grande
A thousand footprints in the sand
Reveal a secret no one can define
The river flows on like a breath
In between our life and death
Tell me whos the next to cross the borderline
En la triste oscuridad (in the sad darkness)
Hoy tenemos que cruzar (today we have to cross)
Este ro que nos llama ms all (this river which calls us further away)
But hope remains when pride is gone
And it keeps you moving on
Calling you across the borderline
When you reach the broken promised land
Every dream slips through your hands
And youll know its too late to change your mind
cause you pay the price to come so far
Just to wind up where you are
And youre still just across the borderline
Now youre still just across the borderline
And youre still just across the borderline

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Are You Growing?

Are you growing in The Lord, or does His teaching go ignored?
Has He in you made a change, or do you simply live the same?
Has His Word within your heart, sincerely given change a start?
Or does the change you begin, get hampered by your daily sin?

Just like a baby my dear friend, are all men who are born again,
And just like a baby at the start, we have for God a tender heart.
We need to trust and follow Him, as God leads us away from sin.
And like a baby we need to grow, so our fruit for Christ can show.

Can believers help other men, when they dont grow my friend?
Will men believe what God can do, if they see no growth in you?
Do you build upon God’s Truth, making your life His living proof,
That He truly changes lives, through the Power of Jesus Christ?

True change begins in The Spirit, and The Word as men hear it,
And as you then apply The Word, growth in your heart is stirred.
And our life becomes a testament, to the One that God had sent,
Then like His Son Jesus Christ, men need to become a sacrifice.

How can you not grow for Christ, when God gave to you His life?
How can you help others to see, if you remain a baby spiritually?
Let The Spirit, who lives inside, to help you grow and be a guide,
So you can be all that you can be, leading others to life eternally.

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The fellowship of our life

We live in the Spirit,
In the Spirit also we walk
When He holds our hand
And guides us every step of the way...
How beautiful is this God of ours
Who can teach His children to walk...
We are circumcised inside
Without hands
With the fellowship of our life
With this love from God
Flowing so smoothly
By the grace of Christ
Flowing continuously
In the spirit of our being
For the eternity of our souls..
The circumcision of Christ
Having been buried with Him in baptism...
We walk in the light
As He is in the light,
We have fellowship with one another,
And the blood of Jesus
Cleansing us from all sin
We are in the light of our Lord
The true and eternal light,
Which illuminates and sanctifies
Transforming our inner-self
With these Earthly things
So less important
And sometimes
So necessary for purification
He is the Light
And we need to be baptized
For receiving the gifts of the Holy Spirit
And the apostles teaching and fellowship
That fellowship of life
Like a river that springs from God
From His throne of love,
More exactly
By the grace of Christ
When the externalized love
Becomes grace.
The Father's love which flows outward
Through our Christ
Entering into our souls
When we feel so infused
With the sanctifying grace
Understanding that
The kingdom of our Lord is within us
For having love
For having life
For having light
For being with Him
When we begin
To think
And to know Him better....


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