Quotes about goose, page 3
To the same (Mr. L-----) II
From plains and peaceful cots I send
The humble wishes of a friend:
May love still spread his silken wing,
And life to you be ever spring:
May virtue guide you with her clue,
Life's mazy path to wander thro';
And may your offspring the blest tract pursue:
On you may Heav'n benignly smile,
And inward peace external cares beguile;
Long may you live supremely blest,
Then die, and be a Saviour's guest.
The wish is o'er, permit me to descend
To the familiar converse of a friend.
Well, you've done right to get a wife,
For change the comfort is of life;
Besides, I've read in ancient story,
A virtuous wife's a crown of glory:
And yet 'tis true that some adorn
Their husband's brows with crown of horn:
The wisest man on earth we find
[...] Read more
poem by Ann Eliza Bleecker from The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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When The Carousel Amimals Got Loose.....[LONG; Humor; Fantasy; Adventure]
In the park for peoples' amusement……
were some workers with an accusement.
T'was on the merry-go-round
where they were all found,
feeling their labor was abusement.
These workers who labored without wages,
were taken from storybook pages.
They were most of them mild...
though some were beasts 'wild'.
Some were loved, some were feared, through the ages.
Three were birds, though one never could fly;
two, that could, rarely took to the sky.
Six of them were mammals...
though none were humped-camels.
One was make-believe, from days-gone-by.
All, including Elephant and Goose,
Unicorn, and big-antlered Moose,
[...] Read more
poem by Bri Edwards
Added by Poetry Lover
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King Volmer and Elsie
After the Danish of Christian Winter
Where, over heathen doom-rings and gray stones of the Horg,
In its little Christian city stands the church of Vordingborg,
In merry mood King Volmer sat, forgetful of his power,
As idle as the Goose of Gold that brooded on his tower.
Out spake the King to Henrik, his young and faithful squire
'Dar'st trust thy little Elsie, the maid of thy desire?'
'Of all the men in Denmark she loveth only me
As true to me is Elsie as thy Lily is to thee.'
Loud laughed the king: 'To-morrow shall bring another day,
When I myself will test her; she will not say me nay.'
Thereat the lords and gallants, that round about him stood,
Wagged all their heads in concert and smiled as courtiers should.
The gray lark sings o'er Vordingborg, and on the ancient town
From the tall tower of Valdemar the Golden Goose looks down;
[...] Read more
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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The Song Of Hiawatha XXI: The White Man's Foot
In his lodge beside a river,
Close beside a frozen river,
Sat an old man, sad and lonely.
White his hair was as a snow-drift;
Dull and low his fire was burning,
And the old man shook and trembled,
Folded in his Waubewyon,
In his tattered white-skin-wrapper,
Hearing nothing but the tempest
As it roared along the forest,
Seeing nothing but the snow-storm,
As it whirled and hissed and drifted.
All the coals were white with ashes,
And the fire was slowly dying,
As a young man, walking lightly,
At the open doorway entered.
Red with blood of youth his cheeks were,
Soft his eyes, as stars In Spring-time,
Bound his forehead was with grasses;
Bound and plumed with scented grasses,
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The White Man's Foot
In his lodge beside a river,
Close beside a frozen river,
Sat an old man, sad and lonely.
White his hair was as a snow-drift;
Dull and low his fire was burning,
And the old man shook and trembled,
Folded in his Waubewyon,
In his tattered white-skin-wrapper,
Hearing nothing but the tempest
As it roared along the forest,
Seeing nothing but the snow-storm,
As it whirled and hissed and drifted.
All the coals were white with ashes,
And the fire was slowly dying,
As a young man, walking lightly,
At the open doorway entered.
Red with blood of youth his cheeks were,
Soft his eyes, as stars In Spring-time,
Bound his forehead was with grasses;
Bound and plumed with scented grasses,
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Poem Read At The Dinner Given To The Author By The Medical Profession Of The City Of New York, April 12, 1883
HAVE I deserved your kindness? Nay, my friends,
While the fair banquet its illusion lends
Let me believe it, though the blood may rush
And to my cheek recall the maiden blush
That o'er it flamed with momentary blaze
When first I heard the honeyed words of praise;
Let me believe it while the roses wear
Their bloom unwithering in the heated air;
Too soon, too soon, their glowing leaves must fall,
The laughing echoes leave the silent hall,
Joy drop his garland, turn his empty cup,
And weary Labor take his burden up,
How weighs that burden they can tell alone
Whose dial marks no moment as their own.
Am I your creditor? Too well I know
How Friendship pays the debt it does not owe,
Shapes a poor semblance fondly to its mind,
Adds all the virtues that it fails to find,
Adorns with graces to its heart's content,
[...] Read more
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Part II
So, they ring bell, give orders, pay, depart
Amid profuse acknowledgment from host
Who well knows what may bring the younger back.
They light cigar, descend in twenty steps
The 'calm acclivity,' inhale—beyond
Tobacco's balm—the better smoke of turf
And wood fire,—cottages at cookery
I' the morning,—reach the main road straitening on
'Twixt wood and wood, two black walls full of night
Slow to disperse, though mists thin fast before
The advancing foot, and leave the flint-dust fine
Each speck with its fire-sparkle. Presently
The road's end with the sky's beginning mix
In one magnificence of glare, due East,
So high the sun rides,—May's the merry month.
They slacken pace: the younger stops abrupt.
Discards cigar, looks his friend full in face.
"All right; the station comes in view at end;
Five minutes from the beech-clump, there you are!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Inn Album (1875)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire
'I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew!
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers'~Shakespeare
'Such shameless bards we have; and yet 'tis true,
There are as mad, abandon'd critics too,'~Pope.
Still must I hear? -- shall hoarse Fitzgerald bawl
His creaking couplets in a tavern hall,
And I not sing, lest, haply, Scotch reviews
Should dub me scribbler, and denounce my muse?
Prepare for rhyme -- I'll publish, right or wrong:
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
O nature's noblest gift -- my grey goose-quill!
Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen,
That mighty instrument of little men!
The pen! foredoom'd to aid the mental throes
Of brains that labour, big with verse or prose,
[...] Read more
The Song Of Hiawatha XXII: Hiawatha's Departure
By the shore of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
At the doorway of his wigwam,
In the pleasant Summer morning,
Hiawatha stood and waited.
All the air was full of freshness,
All the earth was bright and joyous,
And before him, through the sunshine,
Westward toward the neighboring forest
Passed in golden swarms the Ahmo,
Passed the bees, the honey-makers,
Burning, singing In the sunshine.
Bright above him shone the heavens,
Level spread the lake before him;
From its bosom leaped the sturgeon,
Sparkling, flashing in the sunshine;
On its margin the great forest
Stood reflected in the water,
Every tree-top had its shadow,
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Stravinsky used Mother Goose. He was influenced by Mother Goose, indirectly, but very beautifully.
quote by Gyorgy Ligeti
Added by Lucian Velea
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