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Er Fyren af Adel, og Pigen har Penge

Er Fyren af Adel, og Pigen har Penge,
I første Dands er Forlovelsen skeet;
De Begge vinde, hvortil de trænge:
Hun giver en Guldring; han et Signet.

poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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Eugenics

A few claim lineage from old line of kings
Rule with money, scepters n' signet rings
They inbreed with only other noble beings
The rest of us to them, are but furnishings

ROTMS

poem by Ray Lucero
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A sense is what has the power of receiving into itself the sensible forms of things without the matter, in the way in which a piece of wax takes on the impress of a signet-ring without the iron or gold.

quote by Aristotle
Added by Lucian Velea
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Signet

Cowries and dowries,
And of your signet and your cord;
But i am with your child,
So be prepared for your care.

A large stone is now placed on the well's mouth,
Fare, ware, bare, care, dare, hare, mare, pare, tare!
To the north and to the south;
Ford, cord, lord, word!
To the west and to the east;
And like a wild man in the thick forest.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Signet of Eternity

The day was when I did not keep myself in readiness for thee;
and entering my heart unbidden even as one of the common crowd,
unknown to me, my king, thou didst press the signet of eternity upon
many a fleeting moment of my life.

And today when by chance I light upon them and see thy signature,
I find they have lain scattered in the dust mixed with the memory of
joys and sorrows of my trivial days forgotten.

Thou didst not turn in contempt from my childish play among dust,
and the steps that I heard in my playroom
are the same that are echoing from star to star.

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Lady Probationer

Some three, or five, or seven, and thirty years;
A Roman nose; a dimpling double-chin;
Dark eyes and shy that, ignorant of sin,
Are yet acquainted, it would seem, with tears;
A comely shape; a slim, high-coloured hand,
Graced, rather oddly, with a signet ring;
A bashful air, becoming everything;
A well-bred silence always at command.
Her plain print gown, prim cap, and bright steel chain
Look out of place on her, and I remain
Absorbed in her, as in a pleasant mystery.
Quick, skilful, quiet, soft in speech and touch . . .
'Do you like nursing?' 'Yes, Sir, very much.'
Somehow, I rather think she has a history.

poem by William Ernest Henley
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On Exaggerated Deference To Foreign Literary Opinion

What! and shall _we_, with such submissive airs
As age demands in reverence from the young,
Await these crumbs of praise from Europe flung,
And doubt of our own greatness till it bears
The signet of your Goethes or Voltaires?
We who alone in latter times have sung
With scarce less power than Arno's exiled tongue--
We who are Milton's kindred, Shakespeare's heirs.
The prize of lyric victory who shall gain
If ours be not the laurel, ours the palm?
More than the froth and flotsam of the Seine,
More than your Hugo-flare against the night,
And more than Weimar's proud elaborate calm,
One flash of Byron's lightning, Wordsworth's light.

poem by William Watson
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I Am The Apple Of My Father's Eye

I am the apple of my Father's eye
I hope that I will be until I die
I believe I am destined to be poor
‘Tis what I chose when he knocked on my door

After all he did give me my white rock
That's when he received me into his flock
The world will go on as its always done
I'll continue living knowing I've won

Someone holds my signet within their hands
Maybe they've marked many in many lands
Could this person be considered the beast
What will happen in this modern Zeitgeist

I'll no longer worry about my wife
After all she is living her own life
She is the master of her destiny
She'll continue to do what gives her glee

[...] Read more

poem by Edwin Tanguma
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Who Bides His Time

Who bides his time, and day by day
Faces defeat full patiently,
And lifts a mirthful roundelay,
However poor his fortunes be,--
He will not fail in any qualm
Of poverty -- the paltry dime
It will grow golden in his palm,
Who bides his time.

Who bides his time -- he tastes the sweet
Of honey in the saltest tear;
And though he fares with slowest feet,
Joy runs to meet him, drawing near;
The birds are hearalds of his cause;
And, like a never-ending rhyme,
The roadsides bloom in his applause,
Who bides his time.

Who bides his time, and fevers not
In the hot race that none achieves,

[...] Read more

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Elegy for Jonathan, the Prince

stately tall you meekly stand
on your finger the signet band
for my sake you shunned your crown
for my breath your devotion fierce

you gave for me your sword and squire
your hospitality did never tire
proud brothers in battle or play
companions going about each day

in your shadow I had no care
my home's cupboards were never bare
song and merriment never missed
hunger a stranger to my lips

your place at court set second to mine
your heart pure - best fruit of vine
your eyes reflect esteem so dear
no man's affection held so near

[...] Read more

poem by Frederick Kesner
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