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Quotes about chime, page 12

Work Overtime Turbo Drive

long overdue
a well earned rest

about to sleep,
sweet sweet well earned sleep,
my eyes can hardly peep

about to hit my pillow,
think instant sleep sublime,
will caress my soul be bedtime mine

I will heartily wallow,
in gentle sleeps slumber pastime,
this rest of tired mind be chime downtime fine

long long past,
sleep sleep past early dawn time,
long overdue this hard nightime earned recline

peacetime nest so welcomed

[...] Read more

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Traffic

Albert, Lupe, Gilbert and Sergio
Pirates of the tarried night
Slip right through the masters key hole
But are captured by the morns daunting light;
The bells chime out from the Citadel
A warning pre-dawn solar flare
Sirens of distant warriors clap with thunder
Capturing the Pirates with their bottled wares;
At last, Niagra falls 'tis falling
Yes, the jig is up our most fallen foe
One too many sips of your bootleg lightening
Sentenced ye Pirates to days of woe;

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Specula

When He appoints to meet thee, go thou forth—
It matters not
If south or north,
Bleak waste or sunny plot.
Nor think, if haply He thou seek’st be late,
He does thee wrong.
To stile or gate
Lean thou thy head, and long!
It may be that to spy thee He is mounting
Upon a tower,
Or in thy counting
Thou hast mista’en the hour.
But, if He comes not, neither do thou go
Till Vesper chime.
Belike thou then shalt know
He hath been with thee all the time.

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Davy Jones' Door-Bell

A Chant for Boys with Manly Voices
(Every line sung one step deeper than the line preceding)

Any sky-bird sings,
Ring, ring!
Any church-chime rings,
Dong ding!
Any cannon says,
Boom bang!
Any whirlwind says,
Whing whang!
The bell-buoy hums and roars,
Ding dong!
And way down deep,
Where fishes throng,
By Davy Jones' big deep?sea door,
Shaking the ocean's flowery floor,
His door-bell booms
Dong dong,
Dong dong,

[...] Read more

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The Sea Limits

Consider the sea's listless chime;
Time's self it is, made audible -
The murmur of the earth's own shell.
Secret continuance sublime
Is the sea's end: our sight may pass
No furlong further. Since time was,
This sound hath told the lapse of time.

No quiet, which is death's -it hath
The mournfulness of ancient life,
Enduring always at dull strife.
As the world's heart of rest and wrath,
Its painful pulse is in the sands.
Last utterly, the whole sky stands
Grey and not known, along its path.

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Opposites Attract

He was always on time,
never late.
Never made anyone
or anything wait.
They said, 'He's here.
We all can start.'
He looked around
and played his part.

She was always late,
never on time.
Never heard the clock tick
or the bells chime.
They said, 'She's late.
What will we do? '
Nothing got done
and time just flew.

A minute man
and a slow-eyed daisy,

[...] Read more

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Goodbye

As I sat here through my tears
I look back on all the years

Games we lost and won
The prom where we had so mch fun

Having fun with great laughter
We all lived happliy ever after

As I walked down the hall for the last time
realizing I never again here that tardy bell chime

Ditching school because we
were way too cool

I can never take back those days
and now is it to late to

Make an amends with
old best friends

[...] Read more

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Your Flowers

Your flowers are sounding like snow,
Their bells chime like the wind,
With this noise is advertised a beauty and kindness
To man the society of friends.

A fellowship of all health can cry out,
The customary feelings shall be felt;
There is a creek in the blindness,
Declaring spirits of joy as well.

My flowers stay still, staying this way is clear,
For we keep quiet, like the sun, careless
In our actions, until the wind moves our hearts
On the occasion, when we are broken.

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Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Bell

I love thy music, mellow bell,
I love thine iron chime,
To life or death, to heaven or hell,
Which calls the sons of Time.

Thy voice upon the deep
The home-bound sea-boy hails,
It charms his cares to sleep,
It cheers him as he sails.

To house of God and heavenly joys
Thy summons called our sires,
And good men thought thy sacred voice
Disarmed the thunder's fires.

And soon thy music, sad death-bell,
Shall lift its notes once more,
And mix my requiem with the wind
That sweeps my native shore.

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The Gift of Time

The Gift of Time
It is a mystery what we call Time:
A little space of day which turns to night;
A little span of sorrow and delight:
Of tearful dirges and of joy-bells’ chime.
And yet its calm, slow-moving, noiseless feet
Can lead to glory-even thru defeat,
Enclose the wicked within their self-made bars,
And lift God-fearing souls beyond the stars!
O but foolish, blind, ungrateful souls are they
That, heedless, see no gift in each new day.

(Based on “A Jubilee Ode” by Mary Elizabeth Blake)

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