Pimp Homeo (Insert)
{woman} Pimp Homeo, Pimp Homeo...
{Cube} Hey, Julie-ho!
{Woman}I am but $300 short, thy Pimp. First know my ass is tired, thy
Pimp Homeo.
Be this hour, I have done weeping. Thy have poppeth my
cootchie 'til I can't poppeth
No more!
{Cube} Oh, tis! Thy have a reason to smack a cramp in that ass.
{Woman}Have patience, Pimp Homeo, have patience! Homeo, I have a very
vuluptuous vagina,
and titties teetering on timelessness. And a ass the size
of Alaska.
{Cube} Well, bitch, thy get my money.
song performed by Ice Cube
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
The Believer's Jointure : Chapter II.
Containing the Marks and Characters of the Believer in Christ; together with some further privileges and grounds of comfort to the Saints.
Sect. I.
Doubting Believers called to examine, by marks drawn from their love to Him and his presence, their view of his glory, and their being emptied of Self-Righteousness, &c.
Good news! but, says the drooping bride,
Ah! what's all this to me?
Thou doubt'st thy right, when shadows hide
Thy Husband's face from thee.
Though sin and guilt thy spirit faints,
And trembling fears thy fate;
But harbour not thy groundless plaints,
Thy Husband's advent wait.
Thou sobb'st, 'O were I sure he's mine,
This would give glad'ning ease;'
And say'st, Though wants and woes combine,
Thy Husband would thee please.
But up and down, and seldom clear,
Inclos'd with hellish routs;
Yet yield thou not, nor foster fear:
Thy Husband hates thy doubts.
Thy cries and tears may slighted seem,
And barr'd from present ease;
Yet blame thyself, but never dream
Thy Husband's ill to please.
Thy jealous unbelieving heart
Still droops, and knows not why;
Then prove thyself to ease thy smart,
Thy Husband bids the try.
The following questions put to the
As scripture-marks, may tell
And shew, what'er thy failings be,
Thy Husband loves thee well.
MARKS.
Art thou content when he's away?
Can earth allay thy pants?
If conscience witness, won't it say,
Thy Husband's all thou wants?
[...] Read more
poem by Ralph Erskine
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Peter Bell, A Tale
PROLOGUE
There's something in a flying horse,
There's something in a huge balloon;
But through the clouds I'll never float
Until I have a little Boat,
Shaped like the crescent-moon.
And now I 'have' a little Boat,
In shape a very crescent-moon
Fast through the clouds my boat can sail;
But if perchance your faith should fail,
Look up--and you shall see me soon!
The woods, my Friends, are round you roaring,
Rocking and roaring like a sea;
The noise of danger's in your ears,
And ye have all a thousand fears
Both for my little Boat and me!
Meanwhile untroubled I admire
The pointed horns of my canoe;
And, did not pity touch my breast,
To see how ye are all distrest,
Till my ribs ached, I'd laugh at you!
Away we go, my Boat and I--
Frail man ne'er sate in such another;
Whether among the winds we strive,
Or deep into the clouds we dive,
Each is contented with the other.
Away we go--and what care we
For treasons, tumults, and for wars?
We are as calm in our delight
As is the crescent-moon so bright
Among the scattered stars.
Up goes my Boat among the stars
Through many a breathless field of light,
Through many a long blue field of ether,
Leaving ten thousand stars beneath her:
Up goes my little Boat so bright!
The Crab, the Scorpion, and the Bull--
We pry among them all; have shot
High o'er the red-haired race of Mars,
Covered from top to toe with scars;
Such company I like it not!
[...] Read more
poem by William Wordsworth
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The Believer's Jointure : Chapter I.
Containing the Privileges of the Believer that is espoused to Christ by faith of divine operation.
Sect. I.
The Believer's perfect beauty, free acceptance, and full security, through the imputation of Christ's perfect righteousness, though imparted grace be imperfect.
O Happy soul, Jehovah's bride,
The Lamb's beloved spouse;
Strong consolation's flowing tide,
Thy Husband thee allows.
In thee, though like thy father's race,
By nature black as hell;
Yet now so beautify'd by grace,
Thy Husband loves to dwell.
Fair as the moon thy robes appear,
While graces are in dress:
Clear as the sun, while found to wear
Thy Husband's righteousness.
Thy moon-like graces, changing much,
Have here and there a spot;
Thy sun-like glory is not such,
Thy Husband changes not.
Thy white and ruddy vesture fair
Outvies the rosy leaf;
For 'mong ten thousand beauties rare
Thy Husband is the chief.
Cloth'd with the sun, thy robes of light
The morning rays outshine:
The lamps of heav'n are not so bright,
Thy Husband decks thee fine.
Though hellish smoke thy duties stain,
And sin deforms thee quite;
Thy Surety's merit makes thee clean,
Thy Husband's beauty white.
Thy pray'rs and tears, nor pure, nor good,
But vile and loathsome seem;
Yet, gain by dipping in his blood,
Thy Husband's high esteem.
No fear thou starve, though wants be great,
In him thou art complete;
[...] Read more
poem by Ralph Erskine
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Girls Get The Bass In The Back (feat. Bounty Killer) (Hey Baby Remix)
Hey baby, baby (4x)
All the boys say
Hey, hey... (2x)
All the boys say (3x)
Hey, hey... (2x)
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
I'm the kind of girl
That hangs with the guys
Like a fly in the wall
With my secret eyes
Taking it in
Try to be feminine
With my make-up bag
Watching all the sin
Misfit, I sit
Lit up, wicked
Everybody is surrounded by the girls
With the tank tops and the flirty words
I'm just sipping on chamomile
I'm watching boys and girls and their sex appeal
With a stranger in my face who says he knows my mom
And went to my high school
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, baby
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, baby
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Hey baby, baby
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Boys say, boys say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
All the boys get the girls in the back
I'm the one they feed upon
Give a bit a star is born
And if you have enough you'll get the pass
And you can tell your friends how you made it back
No matter what they say I'm still the same
Somehow everybody knows my name
And all the girls wanna get with the boys
And the boys really like it
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
[...] Read more
song performed by No Doubt
Added by Lucian Velea
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Satan Absolved
(In the antechamber of Heaven. Satan walks alone. Angels in groups conversing.)
Satan. To--day is the Lord's ``day.'' Once more on His good pleasure
I, the Heresiarch, wait and pace these halls at leisure
Among the Orthodox, the unfallen Sons of God.
How sweet in truth Heaven is, its floors of sandal wood,
Its old--world furniture, its linen long in press,
Its incense, mummeries, flowers, its scent of holiness!
Each house has its own smell. The smell of Heaven to me
Intoxicates and haunts,--and hurts. Who would not be
God's liveried servant here, the slave of His behest,
Rather than reign outside? I like good things the best,
Fair things, things innocent; and gladly, if He willed,
Would enter His Saints' kingdom--even as a little child.
[Laughs. I have come to make my peace, to crave a full amaun,
Peace, pardon, reconcilement, truce to our daggers--drawn,
Which have so long distraught the fair wise Universe,
An end to my rebellion and the mortal curse
Of always evil--doing. He will mayhap agree
I was less wholly wrong about Humanity
The day I dared to warn His wisdom of that flaw.
It was at least the truth, the whole truth, I foresaw
When He must needs create that simian ``in His own
Image and likeness.'' Faugh! the unseemly carrion!
I claim a new revision and with proofs in hand,
No Job now in my path to foil me and withstand.
Oh, I will serve Him well!
[Certain Angels approach. But who are these that come
With their grieved faces pale and eyes of martyrdom?
Not our good Sons of God? They stop, gesticulate,
Argue apart, some weep,--weep, here within Heaven's gate!
Sob almost in God's sight! ay, real salt human tears,
Such as no Spirit wept these thrice three thousand years.
The last shed were my own, that night of reprobation
When I unsheathed my sword and headed the lost nation.
Since then not one of them has spoken above his breath
Or whispered in these courts one word of life or death
Displeasing to the Lord. No Seraph of them all,
Save I this day each year, has dared to cross Heaven's hall
And give voice to ill news, an unwelcome truth to Him.
Not Michael's self hath dared, prince of the Seraphim.
Yet all now wail aloud.--What ails ye, brethren? Speak!
Are ye too in rebellion? Angels. Satan, no. But weak
With our long earthly toil, the unthankful care of Man.
Satan. Ye have in truth good cause.
Angels. And we would know God's plan,
His true thought for the world, the wherefore and the why
Of His long patience mocked, His name in jeopardy.
[...] Read more
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Rocknroll / Nightclubbing
Lyrics reproduced from holiday 80 - japanese 12
(as interpreted by virgin records japan)
(accuracy is not guaranteed)
Rocknroll, rock, rocknroll
Rocknroll, rock, rocknroll
Do you still recall in the juke box hall when the music played
And the world span around to a brand new sound of those far off days
In their blue suede shoes they would scream and shout
And theyd sing the blues, let it all hang out
Rocknroll - hey! - rocknroll
A rocknroll - hey! - rocknroll
Rocknroll - hey! - rocknroll
Rocknroll, rock, rocknroll
A rocknroll, rock
Took the queen of bop to the high school hop, dancing to the beat
With a u.s. male and her pony tail, well she looked so sweet
Times are changing fast but we wont forget, though that age is past, well be rockin yet
Rocknroll - hey! - rocknroll
A rocknroll - hey! - rocknroll
Rocknroll - hey! - rocknroll
Rocknroll, rock, rocknroll
A rocknroll, rock
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
(repeat again and again and again and again and again and again)
Do you still recall in the juke box hall when the music played
And the world span around to a brand new sound of those far off days
Times are changing fast but we wont forget
Though that age is past, well be rockin yet
Rocknroll - hey! - rocknroll
A rocknroll - hey! - rocknroll
Rocknroll - hey! - rocknroll
Rocknroll, rock, rocknroll
A rocknroll, rock
Night clubbing, were night clubbing
Were whats happening
Night clubbing, were night clubbing
Were on this machine
We meet people, brand new people
Theyre something to see when youre
Night clubbing, were night clubbing
Oh, well soon make love
Night clubbing, were night clubbing
Were walking through town
Night clubbing, were night clubbing
We rock like a ghost
We learn dances, brand new dances
Like the nuclear bomb, when were
Night clubbing, the right, white clubbing
[...] Read more
song performed by Human League
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hey Baby
Hey baby, baby
Hey, hey, hey hey, hey hey child.
Child, child, oh.
Hey, hey, baby,
Hey, hey, hey, hey hey, child.
Say come on baby and tell me one more time
Alright, honey, come on baby and tell about it one more time
I said 25 minutes is all I have at hand.
Said go, go and take me in your arms
Say go and take me in your arms
You can buy me a house, you can buy me anything you want.
I want a house in the country at the time that I think came on
I want a house in the country at the time that I think came on
So Ill call you baby once when I need any more, hey!
Hey, hey, baby hey.
Hey, hey, baby hey.
Hey, hey, baby hey.
I said hey, hey, baby hey.
Oh, hey, hey, baby hey.
Hey, hey, baby hey.
Hey, hey, hey, baby hey
Hey, hey, hey, baby hey
Hey, hey, hey, baby hey.
I said hey, hey, hey, baby hey, hey!!!
Hey, hey, hey, baby hey
Hey, hey, hey, baby hey.
Have a ham sandwich ?
song performed by Janis Joplin
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Bride of Abydos
"Had we never loved so kindly,
Had we never loved so blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted." — Burns
TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD HOLLAND,
THIS TALE IS INSCRIBED,
WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF REGARD AND RESPECT,
BY HIS GRATEFULLY OBLIGED AND SINCERE FRIEND,
BYRON.
THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS
CANTO THE FIRST.
I.
Know ye the land where cypress and myrtle
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime,
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime?
Know ye the land of the cedar and vine,
Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine;
Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with perfume,
Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúl in her bloom; [1]
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute;
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky,
In colour though varied, in beauty may vie,
And the purple of Ocean is deepest in dye;
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,
And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?
'Tis the clime of the East; 'tis the land of the Sun —
Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done? [2]
Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell
Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell.
II.
Begirt with many a gallant slave,
Apparell'd as becomes the brave,
Awaiting each his lord's behest
To guide his steps, or guard his rest,
[...] Read more
Hey, Hey, Hey
(words & music by joy byers)
All right girls, Ill show you what to do
This boat will sparkle like a diamond when we get through
By the numbers there aint much time
Were gonna start an assembly line
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
You get the sandpaper, you get the pails
You get the hammer baby, you get the nails
You get the paint, you get the brush
cause were gonna give it the special touch
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
We got a magic potion that will help us win
I dont know how to spell it but dip right in
Blako-oxy-tonic phosphate, its the latest scoop
But thats all right girls you can call it goop
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
Work the sandpaper, hammer that nail
Tote that paintbrush and lift that pail
Get a rhythm going, nice and easy
Come on and use a little elbow greasy
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
O.k. girls, were all through
Im gonna tell you what were gonna do
Well fall right down and have some fun
And Im gonna kiss you all one by one
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
Huh, huh, huh
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
Huh, huh, huh
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Am An American Indian
Ahwhoo-ooo hey hey ah whoo hey hey...
Ahhhwhoo-ooo hey hey ahhh hey!
Ahwhoo-ooo hey hey ah whoo hey hey...
Ahhhwhoo-ooo hey hey ahhh hey!
I am an American Indian more than an image to fade.
I am an American Indian more than an image to fade,
Away!
I am an American Indian more than an image to fade.
I am an American Indian more than an image to fade,
Away!
Ahwhoo-ooo hey hey ah whoo hey hey...
Ahhhwhoo-ooo hey hey ahhh hey!
Ahwhoo-ooo hey hey ah whoo hey hey...
Ahhhwhoo-ooo hey hey ahhh hey!
On the prairies I would hunt and stay and pray,
And worshop the 'Deities' high.
I would wear the warpaint when invaded,
Chasing enemies away.
Ahwhoo-ooo hey hey ah whoo hey hey...
Ahhhwhoo-ooo hey hey ahhh hey!
Peaceful living in a brother giving,
And dedicated to nature everyday.
Never from my heritage did I stray.
Or ever would be enslaved.
Ahwhoo-ooo hey hey ah whoo hey hey...
Ahhhwhoo-ooo hey hey ahhh hey!
I am an American Indian more than an image to fade.
I am an American Indian more than an image to fade,
Away!
I am an American Indian more than an image to fade.
I am an American Indian more than an image to fade,
Away!
On the prairies I would hunt and stay and pray,
And worship the 'Deities' high.
Aye, aye,
I'd would wear the warpaint when and if invaded,
Chasing my enemies away.
And faithful to my heritage I am...
Never far away to stray.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Its A Mans World
(ice cube)
Women theyre good for nothing no maybe one thing
To serve needs to my ding-a-ling
Im a man who loves the one-night stand
Cause after I do ya
Huh I never knew ya
Cause to kick it man it gives me the fits
They wanna lay with they nose under your armpits
Ice cube wont wait so give it up cow
After we do it you can go home now
Im a brother with a big long...
(yo-yo)
First of all let me tell you my name its yo-yo
When down on a girl first the fist and thats a no-no
Yo-yo thinks the kitchen sink should be thrown in
Niggas be scheming and fiending to stick the bone in
No, yo-yos not a hoe or a whore
And if thats what youre here for
Exit through the door
Theres more
To see of me but youre blind so
Women like me are fading brothers in the 9-0
(ice cube)
Ay what up buttercupper miss yo-yo
I know you like to rap and like to flow so
But when it comes to hip-hop this is a mans world
Stay down and play the playground you little girl
(yo-yo)
What youre saying I dont consider it as rapping
Cause youre on rewind and Im the new whats-happening
It never fails Ill always get respect
And you lose so take a rain check
(ice cube)
Hell no cause you know that Im first and youre second
If it wasnt for me you probably be pregnant
And barefoot complaining that your back is aching
Shaking and faking while Im bringing home the bacon
(yo-yo)
Well youre mistaken
Its not going that far
I make brothers like you play the back yard
You used to flow with the title but I took it
Bring home the bacon but find another hoe to cook it
(ice cube)
Damn it look it
Cause youre talking a lot of bull
(yo-yo)
Well Im not your puppet so dont even try to pull
(ice cube)
This is a mans world thank you very much
[...] Read more
song performed by Ice Cube
Added by Lucian Velea
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Short Rap
Short rap (echo)
Repeat x2
Short rap, is everything
Its what I think, its what I sing
Cause Im a rapper, who lets you know
When it comes to music, I will grow
Rap more raps than any mc
Your rap aint rap cause your rap aint me
Short rap, is what you find
The mastermind, short rap that rhyme
Too short baby, thats the name
When I rap my rap I rap that game
I tell it to you like you always knew
Short raps not fake, its always true
Its me, its you, short rap is life
Its everyday and every night
And I dont just say its this and that
Its everything, its what short raps
Short rap (echo)
Itz what?
Short rap(echo)
Fresh
Short rap(echo)
Short rap(echo)
Short rap(echo)
S-h-o-r-t-r-a-p
Short rap is what I call this beat
Rap that rap like no one else
Im sir too short all by myself
I make fresh raps without your help
And all I want is fame and wealth
Smooth in the game, just like that
And all you hear me say is rap
Short (echo)
Short rap, is way to hard
Every I stop, its time to start
Cause what you find, when I say rhymes
Is a non-stop rap, right on time
Im the kind of person you always thought
Couldnt make a record that would be bought
Sir too short, it couldnt be
Short rap, whats that, short rap is me
Short rap(echo)
Short rap(echo)
So so fresh
I like tenders, young and hot
You never hear short say baby why not?
Im sir too short, Im so down
Mc rapper from the oakland town
You better get up, short raps a song
[...] Read more
song performed by Too Short
Added by Lucian Velea
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Canto the Fourth
I.
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand:
I saw from out the wave her structures rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter’s wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying glory smiles
O’er the far times when many a subject land
Looked to the wingèd Lion’s marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles!
II.
She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers:
And such she was; her daughters had their dowers
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
In purple was she robed, and of her feast
Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased.
III.
In Venice, Tasso’s echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear:
Those days are gone - but beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade - but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!
IV.
But unto us she hath a spell beyond
Her name in story, and her long array
Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond
Above the dogeless city’s vanished sway;
Ours is a trophy which will not decay
With the Rialto; Shylock and the Moor,
And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away -
The keystones of the arch! though all were o’er,
For us repeopled were the solitary shore.
V.
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1818)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Down-Hall. A Ballad.
Tune. - 'King John and the Abbot of Canterbury.'
I sing not old Jason who travell'd through Greece
To kiss the fair maids and possess the rich fleece,
Nor sing I AEneas, who, led by his mother,
Got rid of one wife and went far for another.
Derry down, down, hey derry down.
Nor him who through Asia and Europe did roam,
Ulysses by name, who ne'er cared to go home,
But rather desired to see cities and men
Than return to his farms and converse with old Pen.
Derry down, down, hey derry down.
Hang Homer and Virgil; their meaning to seek,
A man must have poked into Latin and Greek;
Those who love their own tongue we have reason to hope,
Have read them translated by Dryden and Pope.
Derry down, down, hey derry down.
But I sing of exploits that have lately been done
By two British heroes call'd Matthew and John,
And how they rid friendly from fine London town,
Fair Essex to see, and a place they call Down.
Derry down, down, hey derry down.
Now ere they went out, you may rightly suppose
How much they discoursed both in prudence and prose:
For before this great journey was thoroughly concerted,
Full often they met, and as often they parted.
Derry down, down, hey derry down.
And thus Matthew said, look you here my friend John,
I fairly have travell'd years thirty and one,
And though I still carried my Sovereign's warrants,
I only have gone upon other folks errands.
Derry down, down, hey derry down.
[...] Read more
poem by Matthew Prior
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The Corsair
'O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our soul's as free
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limits to their sway-
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
Ours the wild life in tumult still to range
From toil to rest, and joy in every change.
Oh, who can tell? not thou, luxurious slave!
Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave;
Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease!
whom slumber soothes not - pleasure cannot please -
Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried,
And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide,
The exulting sense - the pulse's maddening play,
That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?
That for itself can woo the approaching fight,
And turn what some deem danger to delight;
That seeks what cravens shun with more than zeal,
And where the feebler faint can only feel -
Feel - to the rising bosom's inmost core,
Its hope awaken and Its spirit soar?
No dread of death if with us die our foes -
Save that it seems even duller than repose:
Come when it will - we snatch the life of life -
When lost - what recks it but disease or strife?
Let him who crawls enamour'd of decay,
Cling to his couch, and sicken years away:
Heave his thick breath, and shake his palsied head;
Ours - the fresh turf; and not the feverish bed.
While gasp by gasp he falters forth his soul,
Ours with one pang - one bound - escapes control.
His corse may boast its urn and narrow cave,
And they who loath'd his life may gild his grave:
Ours are the tears, though few, sincerely shed,
When Ocean shrouds and sepulchres our dead.
For us, even banquets fond regret supply
In the red cup that crowns our memory;
And the brief epitaph in danger's day,
When those who win at length divide the prey,
And cry, Remembrance saddening o'er each brow,
How had the brave who fell exulted now!'
II.
Such were the notes that from the Pirate's isle
Around the kindling watch-fire rang the while:
Such were the sounds that thrill'd the rocks along,
And unto ears as rugged seem'd a song!
In scatter'd groups upon the golden sand,
They game-carouse-converse-or whet the brand:
[...] Read more
Solomon
As thro' the Psalms from theme to theme I chang'd,
Methinks like Eve in Paradice I rang'd;
And ev'ry grace of song I seem'd to see,
As the gay pride of ev'ry season, she.
She gently treading all the walks around,
Admir'd the springing beauties of the ground,
The lilly glist'ring with the morning dew,
The rose in red, the violet in blew,
The pink in pale, the bells in purple rows,
And tulips colour'd in a thousand shows:
Then here and there perhaps she pull'd a flow'r
To strew with moss, and paint her leafy bow'r;
And here and there, like her I went along,
Chose a bright strain, and bid it deck my song.
But now the sacred Singer leaves mine eye,
Crown'd as he was, I think he mounts on high;
Ere this Devotion bore his heav'nly psalms,
And now himself bears up his harp and palms.
Go, saint triumphant, leave the changing sight,
So fitted out, you suit the realms of light;
But let thy glorious robe at parting go,
Those realms have robes of more effulgent show;
It flies, it falls, the flutt'ring silk I see,
Thy son has caught it and he sings like thee,
With such election of a theme divine,
And such sweet grace, as conquers all but thine.
Hence, ev'ry writer o'er the fabled streams,
Where frolick fancies sport with idle dreams,
Or round the sight enchanted clouds dispose,
Whence wanton cupids shoot with gilded bows;
A nobler writer, strains more brightly wrought,
Themes more exulted, fill my wond'ring thought:
The parted skies are track'd with flames above,
As love descends to meet ascending love;
The seasons flourish where the spouses meet,
And earth in gardens spreads beneath their feet.
This fresh-bloom prospect in the bosom throngs,
When Solomon begins his song of songs,
Bids the rap'd soul to Lebanon repair,
And lays the scenes of all his action there,
Where as he wrote, and from the bow'r survey'd
The scenting groves, or answ'ring knots he made,
His sacred art the sights of nature brings,
Beyond their use, to figure heav'nly things.
Great son of God! whose gospel pleas'd to throw
Round thy rich glory, veils of earthly show,
Who made the vineyard oft thy church design,
[...] Read more
poem by Thomas Parnell
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The Undying One- Canto III
'THERE is a sound the autumn wind doth make
Howling and moaning, listlessly and low:
Methinks that to a heart that ought to break
All the earth's voices seem to murmur so.
The visions that crost
Our path in light--
The things that we lost
In the dim dark night--
The faces for which we vainly yearn--
The voices whose tones will not return--
That low sad wailing breeze doth bring
Borne on its swift and rushing wing.
Have ye sat alone when that wind was loud,
And the moon shone dim from the wintry cloud?
When the fire was quench'd on your lonely hearth,
And the voices were still which spoke of mirth?
If such an evening, tho' but one,
It hath been yours to spend alone--
Never,--though years may roll along
Cheer'd by the merry dance and song;
Though you mark'd not that bleak wind's sound before,
When louder perchance it used to roar--
Never shall sound of that wintry gale
Be aught to you but a voice of wail!
So o'er the careless heart and eye
The storms of the world go sweeping by;
But oh! when once we have learn'd to weep,
Well doth sorrow his stern watch keep.
Let one of our airy joys decay--
Let one of our blossoms fade away--
And all the griefs that others share
Seem ours, as well as theirs, to bear:
And the sound of wail, like that rushing wind
Shall bring all our own deep woe to mind!
'I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!
'I saw the inconstant lover come to take
Farewell of her he loved in better days,
And, coldly careless, watch the heart-strings break--
Which beat so fondly at his words of praise.
She was a faded, painted, guilt-bow'd thing,
Seeking to mock the hues of early spring,
When misery and years had done their worst
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poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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The Loves of the Angels
'Twas when the world was in its prime,
When the fresh stars had just begun
Their race of glory and young Time
Told his first birth-days by the sun;
When in the light of Nature's dawn
Rejoicing, men and angels met
On the high hill and sunny lawn,-
Ere sorrow came or Sin had drawn
'Twixt man and heaven her curtain yet!
When earth lay nearer to the skies
Than in these days of crime and woe,
And mortals saw without surprise
In the mid-air angelic eyes
Gazing upon this world below.
Alas! that Passion should profane
Even then the morning of the earth!
That, sadder still, the fatal stain
Should fall on hearts of heavenly birth-
And that from Woman's love should fall
So dark a stain, most sad of all!
One evening, in that primal hour,
On a hill's side where hung the ray
Of sunset brightening rill and bower,
Three noble youths conversing lay;
And, as they lookt from time to time
To the far sky where Daylight furled
His radiant wing, their brows sublime
Bespoke them of that distant world-
Spirits who once in brotherhood
Of faith and bliss near ALLA stood,
And o'er whose cheeks full oft had blown
The wind that breathes from ALLA'S throne,
Creatures of light such as still play,
Like motes in sunshine, round the Lord,
And thro' their infinite array
Transmit each moment, night and day,
The echo of His luminous word!
Of Heaven they spoke and, still more oft,
Of the bright eyes that charmed them thence;
Till yielding gradual to the soft
And balmy evening's influence-
The silent breathing of the flowers-
The melting light that beamed above,
As on their first, fond, erring hours,-
Each told the story of his love,
The history of that hour unblest,
When like a bird from its high nest
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poem by Thomas Moore
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Ghost Train
We were off to visit the Carnival,
Me, George and Julie Anne,
George was our mother's boyfriend,
(Though in fact, he was a man!)
I was seven and Julie six
And our Mum waved us goodbye,
She said she had some shopping to do
Told Julie not to cry!
George looked up to the heavens with
His fake, long-suffering grin,
For Julie cried a helluva lot,
She couldn't keep it in,
He took us down on the bus that night
There wasn't room to park,
The evening stars were coming out
It was getting kinda dark.
We saw the lights of the Carnival
And Julie's face lit up,
There were lots of rides and coconut shies
And Julie rode in a duck,
While George and I on the rifle range
Picked off some metal bears,
That raced across at the back, stood up,
Then fell to the pellets there.
There were clowns and men with megaphones,
And Chili Dogs with cheese,
And plenty of fluffy candy floss
That Julie stuck to her knees,
There was soda pop at this little shop
And we ate and drank our fill,
While George went up on a flying fox
And he said: ‘Now you be still! '
The evening mist came down at last
And George said we should go,
For Julie Anne was ready for bed
But I said, ‘Can't we go? '
I pointed over the other side
Where a stall was draped in black,
With a skeleton painted on the front
Near a man with a bowler hat.
The sign had said ‘The Ghost Train'
And it looked all creepy, too,
With little cars that rumbled along
With room on them for two,
So George went over and paid the man
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Venus and Adonis
'Vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo
Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.'
To the right honorable Henry Wriothesly, Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield.
Right honorable.
I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden only, if your honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a god-father, and never after ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your heart's content; which I wish may always answer your own wish and the world's hopeful expectation.
Your honour's in all duty.
Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn;
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-faced suitor 'gins to woo him.
'Thrice-fairer than myself,' thus she began,
'The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are;
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.
'Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,
And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses;
'And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red and pale with fresh variety,
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.'
With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enraged, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.
Over one arm the lusty courser's rein,
Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;
She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.
The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens:--O, how quick is love!--
The steed is stalled up, and even now
To tie the rider she begins to prove:
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poem by William Shakespeare
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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