Quotes about clan, page 3
The Lay of the Last Minstrel: Canto III.
I.
And said I that my limbs were old,
And said I that my blood was cold,
And that my kindly fire was fled,
And my poor wither'd heart was dead,
And that I might not sing of love -
How could I to the dearest theme,
That ever warm'd a minstrel's dream
So foul, so false a recreant prove!
How could I name love's very name,
Nor wake my heart to notes of flame!
II
In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed;
In war, he mounts the warrior's steed;
In halls, in gay attire is seen;
In hamlets, dances on the green.
Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,
And men below, and saints above;
For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Lay of the Last Minstrel: Canto I
Introduction.
The way was long, the wind was cold,
The Minstrel was infirm and old;
His wither'd cheek, and tresses gray,
Seem'd to have known a better day;
The harp, his sole remaining joy,
Was carried by an orphan boy.
The last of all the Bards was he,
Who sung of Border chivalry;
For, welladay! their date was fled,
His tuneful brethren all were dead;
And he, neglected and oppress'd,
Wish'd to be with them, and at rest.
No more on prancing palfrey borne,
He caroll'd, light as lark at morn;
No longer courted and caress'd,
High placed in hall, a welcome guest,
He pour'd, to lord and lady gay,
The unpremeditated lay:
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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Scout Toward Aldie
The cavalry-camp lies on the slope
Of what was late a vernal hill,
But now like a pavement bare-
An outpost in the perilous wilds
Which ever are lone and still;
But Mosby's men are there -
Of Mosby best beware.
Great trees the troopers felled, and leaned
In antlered walls about their tents;
Strict watch they kept; 'twas Hark! and Mark!
Unarmed none cared to stir abroad
For berries beyond their forest-fence:
As glides in seas the shark,
Rides Mosby through green dark.
All spake of him, but few had seen
Except the maimed ones or the low;
Yet rumor made him every thing-
A farmer-woodman-refugee-
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poem by Herman Melville
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The belongingness
A man of my clan won;
I am conscious of my clan.
A man of my tongue won;
I am conscious of my tongue.
A man of my soil won;
I am conscious of my soil.
Can at all I dispense
With my belongingness?
26.09.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A sense of identity
Can I take your identity?
Ghanaian, Am I?
Do I take your identity?
Black American? Am I?
Whose name do I take?
An Ewe? Am I?
What name do I take?
An Anlo? Am I?
What clan do I belong?
Lafe? Am I?
Which clan do you belong?
Adzovia? Are you?
poem by Doris Dzameshie
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Thank offering
The hunter draws his bow string back.
Then quick released the arrow flies
so fast the eye cannot keep track.
Pierced through the heart a young stag dies.
The clan will feast on meat tonight.
Their appetites well satisfied,
they praise the goddess of night
who keeps their wants and needs supplied.
These simple folk with simple ways.
a clan of hunter gatherers
are wise enough to offer praise
to the moon goddess: She who cares
for all her children man and beast
in gratitude for tonights feast.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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An Amazon clan aim
(An Amazon clan aim)
Drove of untamed splendid dames,
gallops behind a handsome hero;
femme warriors of an Amazon clan aim,
at the pulchritudinous guerrero.
Hmm...
Are you aware of his secret charm?
A handsome semi-god will enchant,
sightly Smyrna, arousing her alarm,
favoured he will receive her grant.
Queen of the Amazons, exquisite,
with her splendiferous posture,
deserved a strengthened opposite,
with a demonstrated composure.
So, he was their idolized Heracles,
robust to implement his manly laws;
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Be true of your clan
The woman I loved,
The only woman
If I ever loved,
Is, by accident, she,
Who is very much a doe,
Too frail, too fragile,
Too timid and too shy
To live up to her desire.
As meek as a mouse,
Whom how to arouse?
That woman I loved,
A respectful class,
And my dear brass,
Is, by accident, she,
Who is of a clan, a clan
Known for supremacy
Of women in their affairs,
Where her will prevails,
And where her desire is ultimate,
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poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Coyote and Frog (Native American)
Coyote and his friends walked to a pond
But found Frog and his clan now living there.
“This pond is small for all of us, ” Frog said.
“ Find water of your own. We cannot share.”
“If you will let us drink our fill and bathe,
I’ll get you a warm blanket and a blue stone
That’s bigger than your fist, ” Coyote offered.
When Frog agreed, Coyote went for them alone.
Frog took the gifts and led them to the pond.
Later as they left Frog laughed, “Good trade! ”
In fact, Coyote stole the gifts from Thunderbird,
Now furiously tracking prints the thief had made.
Coyote returned next day to find the Frog clan dead.
He took his people to the pond. “Good trade, ” he said.
poem by Chuck Toll
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The Lord Is His Devotees' Slave
Whatever is a devotee's
caste, clan, family, or name,
Rama's love for him is the same.
Beggar and king
are one to him.
Say, of what caste could be
Brahma or Shiva?
Rama will never abide
in the egotistic man's heart
therefore his slave, Suradasa,
has abandoned pride.
Rama was born in the Raghu clan
Krishna found his home in Gokula.
Words fail to tell of
the Lord's love
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poem by Sant Surdas
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