Quotes about rate, page 2
A poem on divine revelation
This is a day of happiness, sweet peace,
And heavenly sunshine; upon which conven'd
In full assembly fair, once more we view,
And hail with voice expressive of the heart,
Patrons and sons of this illustrious hall.
This hall more worthy of its rising fame
Than hall on mountain or romantic hill,
Where Druid bards sang to the hero's praise,
While round their woods and barren heaths was heard
The shrill calm echo of th' enchanting shell.
Than all those halls and lordly palaces
Where in the days of chivalry, each knight,
And baron brave in military pride
Shone in the brass and burning steel of war;
For in this hall more worthy of a strain
No envious sound forbidding peace is heard,
Fierce song of battle kindling martial rage
And desp'rate purpose in heroic minds:
But sacred truth fair science and each grace
Of virtue born; health, elegance and ease
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poem by Hugh Henry Brackenridge
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Hudibras: Part 1 - Canto I
THE ARGUMENT
Sir Hudibras his passing worth,
The manner how he sallied forth;
His arms and equipage are shown;
His horse's virtues, and his own.
Th' adventure of the bear and fiddle
Is sung, but breaks off in the middle.
When civil dudgeon a first grew high,
And men fell out they knew not why?
When hard words, jealousies, and fears,
Set folks together by the ears,
And made them fight, like mad or drunk,
For Dame Religion, as for punk;
Whose honesty they all durst swear for,
Though not a man of them knew wherefore:
When Gospel-Trumpeter, surrounded
With long-ear'd rout, to battle sounded,
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poem by Samuel Butler
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Metamorphoses: Book The Seventh
THE Argonauts now stemm'd the foaming tide,
And to Arcadia's shore their course apply'd;
Where sightless Phineus spent his age in grief,
But Boreas' sons engage in his relief;
And those unwelcome guests, the odious race
Of Harpyes, from the monarch's table chase.
With Jason then they greater toils sustain,
And Phasis' slimy banks at last they gain,
Here boldly they demand the golden prize
Of Scythia's king, who sternly thus replies:
That mighty labours they must first o'ercome,
Or sail their Argo thence unfreighted home.
The Story of Meanwhile Medea, seiz'd with fierce desire,
Medea and By reason strives to quench the raging fire;
Jason But strives in vain!- Some God (she said)
withstands,
And reason's baffl'd council countermands.
What unseen Pow'r does this disorder move?
'Tis love,- at least 'tis like, what men call love.
Else wherefore shou'd the king's commands appear
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The third-rate mind is only happy when it is thinking with the majority. The second-rate mind is only happy when it is thinking with the minority. The first-rate mind is only happy when it is thinking.
quote by A.A. Milne
Added by Lucian Velea
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Popularity
I always say what I have to say
In a simple or paradox way...
I don't care about popularity or rate,
I say from my heart, what I have to say, anyway...
Some things are simple, some are complex,
But they are told, nevertheless...
Who care about his or her rate,
When your poem was really read....
Keep doing what your really doing, dear poet
The world is still there and really matters
True feelings are not easy to come by
To those creeps, say goodbye...
Your true feelings will always surface,
They are funny people who have not face,
Reality is only one for all
Now, you can see, popularity or rate,
Do not matter at all....
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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You'd Be Terrific In a Silent Movie
If I could rate you,
I'd be elated.
You'd be terrific,
In a silent movie.
Your mood is too dramatic.
And it comes across irratic.
With the touches of a cat,
That scratches right back.
Or a rat that is cornered,
And prepared to attack.
oooOOOoooOOO...
If I could rate you,
I'd be elated.
You'd be terrific,
In a silent movie.
Your mood is too dramatic.
And it should be cinematic.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Soul So Alone (2011)
Oh well...
The day I was unearthed for poetry;
my unfamiliar heart rate had rang,
and was swept away by innocence...
The day that I advertised my poetry;
my unfamiliar heart rate harangued,
and was eager for love's suspense...
The day that 'we shared' our poetry;
my unfamiliar heart rate had sang,
and commenced gentle lovingness...
So then...
That night we celebrated our poetry;
my soul illuminated, as to enchant,
and ignited passion; drawing heads...
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poem by David Joel Rodriguez
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I Am Not In That Mood for Rates
How would I 'rape' myself?
Excuse me?
Oh!
I'm sorry.
How would I 'rate' myself?
You sent my high blood pressure
Straight to the roof!
Instantly I thought you sought some evidence.
Whew...
I know I'm being watched these days, '
But geeessshh.
I seek more privacy than that!
Oh!
I'm sorry.
How would I 'rate' myself?
For passion?
I am on the top of anyone's preference list!
For tenderness exchanged for slow seductive touches?
Anytime.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Florence Nightingale's Crimean War Patients
The facts myth and legend.
'Florence Nightingale
laboured in Constantinople;
nursing surgical period
Crimean War casualties;
British soldiers treats
near on two weary legless years.'
November 1854 sees
Nightingale's ship arrived;
at Selimiye Barracks
in Scutari Constantinople;
modern-day Üsküdar in
present day Istanbul Turkey.
Nightingale's staff
consisting of courageous;
38 women volunteer nurses
trained by Nightingale;
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Alleys
I was welcome in a palace when the ball was at my feet,
I was petted in a garden and my triumph was complete.
But for me above the alleys there forever shone a star,
Where the third-rate public houses and the dens of Venus are.
Where the third-rate public houses
And the fourth-rate lodging houses,
And the rag-shops and the pawn-shops and the dens of Venus are.
I was born among the alleys, bred in darkness and in doubt,
And I wrote the truth in blindness and I struggled up and out;
And the world was fair before me and the way was wide and plain,
But the spirit of the alleys ever dragged me back again.
’Tis a madness I inherit
And a blind and reckless spirit.
Oh! the spirit of the alleys ever drags me down again!
There were fair girls in the garden where the spring came in a day,
But the barmaids in the alleys know a wider world than they.
There were wise men in the palace who were born to rule the earth,
But the wrecks amongst the alleys know the world for what it’s worth.
To the pewter from the chalice,
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poem by Henry Lawson
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