Quotes about sable, page 10
Raven and the Fox (reprise)
A raven, dark as sorrow’s dream
Sat perched upon a tree
His sable wings and golden eye
His gaze turned to the sea.
The memory of his vixen, red
Though far on distant shore
Does take his love on yonder wind
To seek her evermore
As shadows stretch on to the west
Silent vigil, yet he keeps
To wait the lonely dawn for she
His love across the sea
The sky there he’d forsake
For sake of she on distant shore
And ride the airs of lonely night
Lonely nevermore
poem by Christopher Thor Britt
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Nasty Life
My friend
Married newely...
Fight to fight
Every his wife...
Wife did not
Interest in sex...?
Sex is not
Impreess wife
With husband...
So...
Fights going...
One day crying...
One day lough...
One day sad...
Life move boor
With boor...
My friend wife
Run for mohter's house...
My friend woory...
Pray for god...
[...] Read more
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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My Midnight Meditation
Ill busi'd man! why should'st thou take such care
To lengthen out thy life's short calendar?
When ev'ry spectacle thou lookst upon
Presents and acts thy execution.
Each drooping season and each flower doth cry,
'Fool! as I fade and wither, thou must die.
'The beating of thy pulse (when thou art well)
Is just the tolling of thy Passing Bell:
Night is thy Hearse, whose sable Canopy
Covers alike deceased day and thee.
And all those weeping dews which nightly fall,
Are but the tears shed for thy funeral.'
poem by Henry King
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In The Company Of Cain
A sojourn on the far distant strange land,
Took me to a plain of the scorched sand,
Replete with the countless vertical holes,
Each was guarded by a figure with a wand.
Their round entrances were all black sable,
They were the abodes of those who did gable,
And agonized more the miserable fellows,
With the blood, the world they did dabble.
They were confined with no end of pain,
And were facing the plight for being vain,
Their cries mingled in the rising smoke, for
They were doomed in the company of Cain.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Dante écrit deux vers
Dante écrit deux vers, puis il sort ; et les deux vers
Se parlent. Le premier dit : - Les cieux sont ouverts.
Cieux ! je suis immortel. - Moi, je suis périssable.
Dit l'autre. - je suis l'astre. - Et moi le grain de sable.
- Quoi ! tu doutes étant fils d'un enfant du ciel !
- Je me sens mort. - Et moi, je me sens éternel.
Quelqu'un rentre et relit ces vers, Dante lui-même :
Il garde le premier et barre le deuxième.
La rature est la haute et fatale cloison.
L'un meurt, et l'autre vit. Tous deux avaient raison.
poem by Victor Hugo
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Shadow Of A Memory
As darkness crept across the floor,
Slithering up the helix stairwell,
Merging with the darkness cast by my door,
Memory rippled athwart mind groundswell,
For liquid shadows create vivid picture,
Of morello cherry coloured eyes,
Flecked green with envy’s tincture,
Blinking eerily at hinge creaking cries,
Overactive mind left on ponder soak,
Somewhere within the heart of me,
Wrapped in thought billowed sable cloak,
There is still some small part of me,
That yearns for that old forgotten feeling,
Of warm, sweet sunlight oh so revealing.
poem by Dale Mullock
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Raison D'Etre
O WEARY night, O weary day,
When heart's delight is far away!
What is the day? A frame of blue
The vacant-glaring sun grins through.
What is the night? A sable veil
Through which the moon peers tired and pale.
O weary day! O weary night!
How far away is heart's delight!
Love hung the sun in his high place
To give me light to see her face,
And love spread out the veil of night
To hide us two from all men's sight.
O kindly night, O pleasant day,
Your use is gone--why should ye stay?
My heart's delight is far away,
O weary night, O weary day.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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A Character
Sometimes how our sable heinous deeds,
Stifle conscience, hush inner voices,
Lead to the zones of perpetual night.
I recall a character killer of father,
Walked he erect headed, puffed with pride,
With thrust chest, arrogant gestures,
Debashed face with stiff moustaches,
Twisted up like incensed mongoose tail,
When bites into the neck with sharp teeth,
And fights against the venomous serpent.
Had he a game-bird in rough hands,
Wrapped with scented silky handkerchief,
Among friends he promptly boasted of,
The condemned deed of patricide
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Fly Me Away
Fly me away, Raven, fly me away
To some far-off land where I can stay.
Here there once was laughing and gladness.
Now there is only regrets and sadness.
In your feathers make a nest
So while you travel I may rest,
...So I may have peaceful sleep never-ending
Where no more am I exposed to grief descending.
Let me stay in your sweet sable feathers
For in time unlimited measures.
Send me to the land of jewels and flowers
Where only good magic resides and it may be ours.
Fly me away, Raven, fly me away
To some distant land where I may stay.
poem by Patricia Wulf
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Harmonica
Spirits come stern to foreshadow
our route westward onto Atlantic,
nautilus believe in ancient mantic,
and sudden port sentiments endow.
My ancestors were natural sailors,
serving the same cause for years,
worldwide route as funeral tears,
sable wives shed to ocean bailors.
Grim engagement describes a spell,
that haunts island men since birth;
sea engulfs them, an owing dearth,
of morose depths in mournful well.
Sailors stand upon the stern deck,
as dusk turns colors to hazy gray,
with a harmonica on a wistful play,
tearing the long shadows an' beck.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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