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Quotes about Portrait of prince

Couldnt Call It Unexpected No. 4

I saw a girl whod found her consolation
She said one day my prince of peace will come
Above her head a portrait of her father
The wilted favour that he gave her still fastened to the frame
Theyve got his bones and everything he owns
Ive got his name
Well you can laugh at this sentimental story
But in time youll have to make amends
The sudden chill where lovers doubt their immortality
As the clouds cover the sky the evening ends
Describing a picture of eyes finally closing
As you sometimes glimpse terrible faces in the fire
Well Im the lucky goon
Who composed this tune
From birds arranged on the high wire
Who on earth is tapping at the window?
Does that face still linger at the pane?
I saw you shiver though the room was like a furnace
A shadow of regret across a young mothers face
So toll the bell or rock the cradle

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Love Anyway

So you crahed the plane
And theres hell to pay
Im making it plain
I love you anyway
You made a fool
Out of me today
Im breaking the rule
I love you anyway
You threw the blame
What a role to play!
My storys the same
I love you anyway
You dealt the blow
And you burst the ball
Im letting you know
I love you most of all
Magic we chase - only to find
It comes from a place higher than mind
Higher than dust, but only just
It hangs on the cusp

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Love Anyway

So you crahed the plane
And theres hell to pay
Im making it plain
I love you anyway
You made a fool
Out of me today
Im breaking the rule
I love you anyway
You threw the blame
What a role to play!
My storys the same
I love you anyway
You dealt the blow
And you burst the ball
Im letting you know
I love you most of all
Magic we chase - only to find
It comes from a place higher than mind
Higher than dust, but only just
It hangs on the cusp

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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold

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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment

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poem by from The Ring and the BookReport problemRelated quotes
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Byron

Canto the Eighth

I
Oh blood and thunder! and oh blood and wounds!
These are but vulgar oaths, as you may deem,
Too gentle reader! and most shocking sounds:
And so they are; yet thus is Glory's dream
Unriddled, and as my true Muse expounds
At present such things, since they are her theme,
So be they her inspirers! Call them Mars,
Bellona, what you will -- they mean but wars.

II
All was prepared -- the fire, the sword, the men
To wield them in their terrible array.
The army, like a lion from his den,
March'd forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay, --
A human Hydra, issuing from its fen
To breathe destruction on its winding way,
Whose heads were heroes, which cut off in vain
Immediately in others grew again.

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poem by from Don Juan (1824)Report problemRelated quotes
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The moment seemed right to me for a full and, if possible, authoritative portrait of the life and character of the Prince of Wales.

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The Princess (part 2)

At break of day the College Portress came:
She brought us Academic silks, in hue
The lilac, with a silken hood to each,
And zoned with gold; and now when these were on,
And we as rich as moths from dusk cocoons,
She, curtseying her obeisance, let us know
The Princess Ida waited: out we paced,
I first, and following through the porch that sang
All round with laurel, issued in a court
Compact of lucid marbles, bossed with lengths
Of classic frieze, with ample awnings gay
Betwixt the pillars, and with great urns of flowers.
The Muses and the Graces, grouped in threes,
Enringed a billowing fountain in the midst;
And here and there on lattice edges lay
Or book or lute; but hastily we past,
And up a flight of stairs into the hall.

There at a board by tome and paper sat,
With two tame leopards couched beside her throne,

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Dead Bodies and Cardboard

Born beneath a dying sun
Mourn for them the dying young.
Lament for those whose song
By siren chords has long since been sung.

Lament for those, skinned and hung from the city gates.
We pray for them this nightmare shall prove easy enough to shake
As the sky bakes slow in furnace fumes, igniting the skies in fury.
There, low and behold the addict merchant selling his soul.

I dreamt last night of a girl I have not seen in years
Years which can not match the tears nor fears in number.
Little did I know that she slept, slumbering numb beneath the mountain.
Dreaming of Pan, of ancient scented night.

King of Hedgerows, Prince of Circus Shows
Queens of the Flow gather in flowering
Embrace the bloom, the pinnacle of the chase.
Race the moon to see her face.

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Portrait Of A Prince

Behold the tiger's face up close,
With all its deep-etched lines.
Like charcoal ridges by his nose,
How clearly each defines.
Behold the tiger's ears erect,
Aware of all that breathes,
With mental filters that select
The rustling of the leaves.
Behold the tiger's eyes that stare,
As if right through your soul,
To challenge you, be wise, beware,
Take care who's in control...
Behold the tiger's nose below,
It tells him distant facts,
Though out of sight, he's in the know,
So watch out if he acts...
Behold the tiger's tight-lipped mouth,
He hides his daggers well...
His top set north, his dropped set south,
What tales those teeth could tell.

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