Quotes about dwelling-place, page 2

City of Moon

If your heart is not ruined by wild beast
Touching the flower the sun spread smell sweet
Because of southern wind’s touch as storm rises in sea
Unknown lady with your touch I want to reach in moon city.

Touching the flower the sun spread smell sweet
Love that goes to brothel is not clean and nit
Unknown lady with your touch I want to reach in moon city
Puzzled vagabond wishes to be illuminated you are not lucky.

Love that goes to brothel is not clean and nit
Dwelling together with moon- is parallel unknown lady sweet
Puzzled vagabond wishes to be illuminated you are not lucky
In favorite dew bathed grass looks at sun and sea.

Dwelling together with moon- is parallel unknown lady sweet
Alas! The slaves become ruined when the sun and sea meet
In favorite dew bathed grass looks at sun and sea

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poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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Thought Of Ph---a At News Of Her Death

NOT a line of her writing have I,
Not a thread of her hair,
No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby
I may picture her there;
And in vain do I urge my unsight
To conceive my lost prize
At her close, whom I knew when her dreams were upbrimming with light,
And with laughter her eyes.

What scenes spread around her last days,
Sad, shining, or dim?
Did her gifts and compassions enray and enarch her sweet ways
With an aureate nimb?
Or did life-light decline from her years,
And mischances control
Her full day-star; unease, or regret, or forebodings, or fears
Disennoble her soul?

Thus I do but the phantom retain
Of the maiden of yore

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poem by Thomas Hardy
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Thoughts of Phena

at news of her death

Not a line of her writing have I
Not a thread of her hair,
No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby
I may picture her there;
And in vain do I urge my unsight
To conceive my lost prize
At her close, whom I knew when her dreams were upbrimming with light
And with laughter her eyes.

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poem by Thomas Hardy
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N. P. Rogers

Rogers, will not future story
Tell thy glorious fame?
And in hues of living glory
Robe thy spotless name?

There was more than mortal seeming
In thy wondrous eye,--
Like a silv'ry star-ray gleaming
Through a liquid _sky_.

Of that angel spirit telling,
Noble, clear and bright,
In thy 'inner temple' dwelling,
Veiled from mortal sight!

Of that spirit meek and lowly,
Yet so bold and free,
In its all-absorbing, holy,
Love of Liberty.

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poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Psalm 132

v.5,13-18
L. M.
At the settlement of a church, or the ordination of a minister.

Where shall we go to seek and find
An habitation for our God,
A dwelling for th' Eternal Mind,
Among the sons of flesh and blood?

The God of Jacob chose the hill
Of Zion for his ancient rest;
And Zion is his dwelling still,
His church is with his presence blessed.

Here will I fix my gracious throne,
And reign for ever, saith the Lord;
Here shall my power and love be known,
And blessings shall attend my word.

Here will I meet the hungry poor,

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poem by Isaac Watts
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Like His Mother Nature

Despite advanced medical technology people still age and die
And though people on an average live longer now one fact we can't deny
Is that the Reaper who claims every life will one day claim your's and mine
Each day we live we draw closer to our lives finish line.

If wealthy people could live forever more how awful that would be
'Twould seem that Nature would be punishing all of those in poverty
But Nature can't be bribed or bought she is beyond reproach
She does not differentiate between the life of a Human Being or the water dwelling Roach.

Yes nature is beyond reproach she treats as equal all
From the World's most influential Human Being to the wood louse in garden wall
And the Reaper the son of Nature for all of us he wait
He claims the life of each living thing and he does not differentiate

Between the life of a Human Being and a Cockroach whom he does treat the same
He will not spare you just because you have great wealth and fame
And like his Mother Nature he is beyond reproach
He will claim the life of the great Monarch and the water dwelling Roach.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Dwelling On Your Miseries

All I hear is what isn't,
From you.
That's all I hear...
From your point of view!

Have you ever considered,
Climbing out of your shell?
Have you ever thought about,
What for you goes well?

I can understand you
Having issues in your life.
I can understand that.
But do you appreciate those things,
That are right?

Dwelling on your miseries,
For the purpose to share.
Seems so self involved.
And when you expose that like you do...

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Changing From Within

Before any changes can begin, God must change us from within,
By The Spirit, who in us resides, to change our hearts and minds.
I speak of a lasting change in us, who in God have put their trust,
To live our entire life for Him, Christ, who gave His life for our sin.

True change, by God, has its start, when in Christ we’re set apart,
Set apart as God’s Holy Ones, as believers we become His Sons.
As we come to Christ we receive, The Holy Spirit when we believe,
And He makes changes in our life, to help us live for Jesus Christ.

As His, we don’t stay the same, altered by the power of His name,
You shall be changed, be assured, to be a testimony for our Lord.
He puts us in the Narrow Way, with sustaining Grace for each day,
Grace coupled with His Power, to live for God each day and hour.

But, an active role we must play, in living for the Savior every day,
As certain choices that we make, deal with ways we must forsake.
The initial change God made inside, now, in Christ we must abide,
To make those changes that we need, to live life as God decreed.

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poem by Bob Gotti
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The Bird's Release

Go forth, for she is gone!
With the golden light of her wavy hair,
She is gone to the fields of the viewless air;
She hath left her dwelling lone!

Her voice hath pass'd away!
It hath pass'd away like a summer breeze,
When it leaves the hills for the far blue seas,
Where we may not trace its way.

Go forth, and like her be free!
With thy radiant wing, and thy glancing eye,
Thou hast all the range of the sunny sky,
And what is our grief to thee?

Is it aught ev'n to her we mourn?
Doth she look on the tears by her kindred shed?
Doth she rest with the flowers o'er her gentle head,
Or float on the light wind borne?

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poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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The Alcayde Of Molina

FROM THE SPANISH.

To the town of Atienza, Molina's brave Alcayde,
The courteous and the valorous, led forth his bold brigade.
The Moor came back in triumph, he came without a wound,
With many a Christian standard, and Christian captive bound.
He passed the city portals, with swelling heart and vein,
And towards his lady's dwelling he rode with slackened rein;
Two circuits on his charger he took, and at the third,
From the door of her balcony Zelinda's voice was heard.
'Now if thou wert not shameless,' said the lady to the Moor,
'Thou wouldst neither pass my dwelling, nor stop before my door.
Alas for poor Zelinda, and for her wayward mood,
That one in love with peace should have loved a man of blood!
Since not that thou wert noble I chose thee for my knight,
But that thy sword was dreaded in tournay and in fight.
Ah, thoughtless and unhappy! that I should fail to see
How ill the stubborn flint and the yielding wax agree.
Boast not thy love for me, while the shrieking of the fife

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poem by William Cullen Bryant
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