Quotes about spite, page 11
Awe gust
The wind whirls
And stirs the dust
Leaving the grass with nothing to anchor
It is the august wind
That blows so viciously
After the winter’s chill
Has tormented the frail shrubs
It blows dust in my face
As if to spite me
For I can do nothing to stop it
But somewhere in me
I smile in defiance
Because I know
That the next season is spring
But unlike the august wind
I have no one to spite
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poem by Matete Motsoaledi
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A God
I tower above you all.
Watching closely with contempt and hate.
Ready to deliver a horrible fate.
I'm so displeased with you worthless ticks and fleas.
I am a god now worship me.
I'm better than you.
I matter so much more than you.
When are you humble peasents going to realize you're only ants.
You should beg for my devotion and care.
Protection and love,
yet you only dare to incure my wrath,
my anger and spite.
Soon you'll feel my awesome spite.
You won't withstand what I behold.
Tearing down mountains and drying rivers with every card I hold.
You brought it on yourselves you see.
I'm a God before you now begin to flee.
My patience is up,
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poem by Michael McParland
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Love's Apotheosis
Love me. I care not what the circling years
To me may do.
If, but in spite of time and tears,
You prove but true.
Love me--albeit grief shall dim mine eyes,
And tears bedew,
I shall not e'en complain, for then my skies
Shall still be blue.
Love me, and though the winter snow shall pile,
And leave me chill,
Thy passion's warmth shall make for me, meanwhile,
A sun-kissed hill.
And when the days have lengthened into years,
And I grow old,
Oh, spite of pains and griefs and cares and fears,
Grow thou not cold.
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poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Republic
Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
Humanity with all its fears
With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on the fate!
We know what Master laid the keel,
What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope,
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what forge and what a heat
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!
Fear not each sudden sound and shock,
'Tis of the wave and not the rock;
'Tis but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the gale!
In spite of rock and tempest's roar,
In spite of false lights on the shore,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
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poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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O Ship of State
Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
Humanity with all its fears,
With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
We know what Master laid thy keel,
What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope,
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what a forge and what a heat
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!
Fear not each sudden sound and shock,
'Tis of the wave and not the rock;
'Tis but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the gale!
In spite of rock and tempest's roar,
In spite of false lights on the shore,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee.
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
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poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Republican Pioneers
We're marching along, we're gath'ring strong'
We place on our right reliance,
We fling in the air, for all who care,
Our first loud notes of defiance!
We fling in the air,
For all who care,
Our first loud notes of defiance!
Laugh long and loud, you toady crowd,
At the men you call benighted,
In spite of your sneers, we are pioneers
Of "Australian States United"!
In spite of your sneers, We are pioneers
Of "Australian States United"!
Not long we'll stand as an outlaw band,
And be in our country lonely,
For soon to the sky shall ring our cry,
Our cry of "Australia only"!
For soon to the sky
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poem by Henry Lawson
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I'm Razel The Evil Ice-witch
I'm Razel the icewitch, I'm evil and I'm bad,
I'm Razel the icewitch, I'm evil and I'm glad.
Because I can control your feelings, thoughts and deeds,
because I am filled with spite and greed!
I'm Razel the ice-witch I'm sharp as ice,
I'm Razel and I will freeze you with this ice device!
I'm Razel the ice-witch, I'm evil and I'm bad!
I'm Razel the ice-witch, I'm evil and I'm glad!
I will have my way by stopping all birthdays!
I will control your thoughts and deeds,
because I am filled with spite and greed!
I am Razel the ice-witch, I'm evil and I'm bad!
I am Razel the ice-witch, I'm evil and I glad!
I will stop the rays of the sun
I will control all the fun!
Because I am Razel the coldest one,
I can control the weather with the
flick of my thumb.
I will freeze you and me,
because I am evil as can be.
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poem by Sue Chevalier
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Things Work Out
Because it rains when we wish it wouldn't,
Because men do what they often shouldn't,
Because crops fail, and plans go wrong-
Some of us grumble all day long.
But somehow, in spite of the care and doubt,
It seems at last that things work out.
Because we lose where we hoped to gain,
Because we suffer a little pain,
Because we must work when we'd like to play-
Some of us whimper along life's way.
But somehow, as day always follows the night,
Most of our troubles work out all right.
Because we cannot forever smile,
Because we must trudge in the dust awhile,
Because we think that the way is long-
Some of us whimper that life's all wrong.
But somehow we live and our sky grows bright,
And everything seems to work out all right.
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poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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The Lodge-Room
Don't bring into the lodge-room
Anger, and spite, and pride.
Drop at the gate of the temple
The strife of the world outside.
Forget all your cares and trials,
Forget every selfish sorrow,
And remember the cause you meet for,
And haste ye the glad to-morrow.
Drop at the gate of the temple
Envy, and spite, and gloom.
Don't bring personal quarrels
And discord into the room.
Forget the slights of a sister,
Forget the wrongs of a brother,
And remember the new commandment,
That ye all love one another.
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poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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A Thing of Beauty (Endymion)
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkn'd ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
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poem by John Keats
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