Quotes about may, page 10
The Siege of Corinth
In the year since Jesus died for men,
Eighteen hundred years and ten,
We were a gallant company,
Riding o'er land, and sailing o'er sea
Oh ! but we went merrily !
We forded the river, and clomb the high hill,
Never our steeds for a day stood still;
Whether we lay in the cave or the shed,
Our sleep fell soft on the hardest bed:
Whether we couch'd in our rough capote,
On the rougher plank of our gliding boat.
Or stretch'd on the beach, or our saddles spread
As a pillow beneath the resting head,
Fresh we woke upon the morrow:
All our thoughts and words had scope,
We had health, and we had hope,
Toil and travel, but no sorrow.
We were of all tongues and creeds; ---
Some were those who counted beads,
Some of mosque, and some of church;
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poem by Byron (1816)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Bishop Blougram's Apology
No more wine? then we'll push back chairs and talk.
A final glass for me, though: cool, i' faith!
We ought to have our Abbey back, you see.
It's different, preaching in basilicas,
And doing duty in some masterpiece
Like this of brother Pugin's, bless his heart!
I doubt if they're half baked, those chalk rosettes,
Ciphers and stucco-twiddlings everywhere;
It's just like breathing in a lime-kiln: eh?
These hot long ceremonies of our church
Cost us a little—oh, they pay the price,
You take me—amply pay it! Now, we'll talk.
So, you despise me, Mr. Gigadibs.
No deprecation—nay, I beg you, sir!
Beside 't is our engagement: don't you know,
I promised, if you'd watch a dinner out,
We'd see truth dawn together?—truth that peeps
Over the glasses' edge when dinner's done,
And body gets its sop and holds its noise
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poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Victories Of Love. Book II
I
From Jane To Her Mother
Thank Heaven, the burthens on the heart
Are not half known till they depart!
Although I long'd, for many a year,
To love with love that casts out fear,
My Frederick's kindness frighten'd me,
And heaven seem'd less far off than he;
And in my fancy I would trace
A lady with an angel's face,
That made devotion simply debt,
Till sick with envy and regret,
And wicked grief that God should e'er
Make women, and not make them fair.
That he might love me more because
Another in his memory was,
And that my indigence might be
To him what Baby's was to me,
The chief of charms, who could have thought?
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poem by Coventry Patmore
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Mother may I
Mother may I
throw food around
because I am contrary as an infant?
Mother may I
play in the mud
because I like when you have to bathe me?
Mother may I
eat all the cookies
just because they taste so yummy?
Mother may I
draw on the walls
because I like your attention?
Mother may I
not do my homework
because I want to grow up faster?
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poem by Erica Francis
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A good to say
Children are emissary of love
They represent heavenly dove
What do they do in our lonely life?
Make life easy even if to walk on edge of knife
We do not want our pain to be shown
They may come to know when fully grown
They will have nice wings to be flowing in
They may realize what is loss and win
We do not wish to feed you with spoon
We want that you should not tire out in the noon
You may provide us comfort and coolness of the moon
Our hopes may be realized very soon
Our blessing may follow you everywhere
You may miss us even if you are anywhere
It is bond of love and attachment
You are link to provide us happiest moments
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Martyrs
They preferred death to honor
Never said yes for life to dishonor
To die for the nation and holy cause
Constant move with no let or pause
It may be need of an hour
Better lay down life than to lie on floor
Death may not wait and come fast
You will not have time to breathe your last
Chances for bright life may be unlikely and recede
You may fight the war but not concede
Who knows when death may make fast visit?
You will only find the hell is let loose and find no exit
Country may not feel or know it so soon
Bodies may be flown from the border in bright noon
Countrymen may weep and lay a wreath
May mourn the departed and offer roses on death
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Life At Obelisk
Through the flood we shall rise and float
On tenterhooks of tomorrow(s)
We shall abide beyond the gallows
Of each daybreak, ours to calculate
Life, on the gigantic obelisk we etched
As history have our joys and sorrows
On the walls of each steeple chamber
There the tale goes engraved on marbles
Embroidered on silky clothes of kings
By bare hands and simple weapons
On the jars of blood, we reached to day
Molded us people in silver and clay
We may be buried underground
Still peace may not be found
It may not look good and sound
We have to make show all-round
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A nice end to finish
It is rightly said that perform or perish
World may not end or finish
The ponds may be full of fishes
You should have will power or powerful wish
What you are expected to perform?
Life full of energy with good reforms
Everything to go on with complete norms
Nothing to worry even if arrival of storms
Will the worries end with our failure?
Will it make strong enough to reassure?
How do we go ahead and make it sure?
How do we make it full proof in our tenure?
We are engulfed with problems from the day one
We cried often but it objected by none
Life may not give you that golden chance again
You must strive hard for the position to regain
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A nice end
It is rightly said that perform or perish
World may not end or finish
The ponds may be full of fishes
You should have will power or powerful wish
What you are expected to perform?
Life full of energy with good reforms
Everything to go on with complete norms
Nothing to worry even if arrival of storms
Will the worries end with our failure?
Will it make strong enough to reassure?
How do we go ahead and make it sure?
How do we make it full proof in our tenure?
We are engulfed with problems from the day one
We cried often but it objected by none
Life may not give you that golden chance again
You must strive hard for the position to regain
[...] Read more
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A suicidal way
I wished if I were dead
The sentence could easily be read
Where it can take us or lead?
It can’t work out even if you plead
Once that idea enters mind
You can’t think easily and find
You may develop defeatist tendency
It may add up to more frequency
You act as living dead
You loose the sense to feed
You have no desire to continue
You may be perturbed all the times over new avenues
How does develop the suicidal tendency?
Does that lead a person to ask for mercy?
He may think of ending all of sudden
He is occupied in mind with worries laden
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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