Quotes about chapel, page 13
She Told Her Beads
She told her beads with down-cast eyes,
Within the ancient chapel dim;
And ever as her fingers slim
Slipt o'er th' insensate ivories,
My rapt soul followed, spaniel-wise.
Ah, many were the beads she wore;
But as she told them o'er and o'er,
They did not number all my sighs.
My heart was filled with unvoiced cries
And prayers and pleadings unexpressed;
But while I burned with Love's unrest,
She told her beads with down-cast eyes.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Factory Windows Are Always Broken
Factory windows are always broken.
Somebody's always throwing bricks,
Somebody's always heaving cinders,
Playing ugly Yahoo tricks.
Factory windows are always broken.
Other windows are let alone.
No one throws through the chapel-window
The bitter, snarling, derisive stone.
Factory windows are always broken.
Something or other is going wrong.
Something is rotten--I think, in Denmark.
End of factory-window song.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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135
i know you live a very simple life
i know my friend that
you live a very simple life out there
waking up in the morning
working in the office
buying food in the market
watch tv
sleep early at night
wake up early again
listen to the morning news
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Had A Dream...
I had a dream
A vivid scene
My funeral
A beautiful white chapel
candles burning
silence...
Ave Maria started playing
I saw my family
saw their agony
But my eyes were drawn to your face
your haggard look
your fall from grace
And I knew you wished you had told me
wished for once that you could hold me
save yourself the agony
of growing old in misery
I woke up crying and thought of you
and how this love story
would never come true...
poem by Chantelle Ribeiro
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[Bubble gum minor]
Bubble gum minor
fancier sayings,
saving up
keys like codes to your new car
because you can't stand up.
Fog machines scream elements, nobody in the room
has heard of.
because you didn't follow
all the way there
like thanking a subtle kindness
sistine chapel for several years.
The food stamp sinking in chamberlit campfires,
bashful, sestet hall of fame
hallmark on your face in saying:
they don't play me on television anymore.
poem by Aaron Eliad
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Songs
SONGS are like painted window-panes!
In darkness wrapp'd the church remains,
If from the market-place we view it;
Thus sees the ignoramus through it.
No wonder that he deems it tame,--
And all his life 'twill be the same.
But let us now inside repair,
And greet the holy Chapel there!
At once the whole seems clear and bright,
Each ornament is bathed in light,
And fraught with meaning to the sight.
God's children! thus your fortune prize,
Be edified, and feast your eyes!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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I saw a chapel all of gold...
I saw a chapel all of gold
That none did dare to enter in
And many weeping stood without
Weeping mourning worshipping
I saw a serpent rise between 5
The white pillars of the door
And he forcd & forcd & forcd
Down the golden hinges tore
And along the pavement sweet
Set with pearls & rubies bright 10
All his slimy length he drew
Till upon the altar white
Vomiting his poison out
On the bread & on the wine
So I turnd into a sty 15
And laid me down among the swine
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads
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I Saw a Chapel
I saw a chapel all of gold
That none did dare to enter in,
And many weeping stood without,
Weeping, mourning, worshipping.
I saw a serpent rise between
The white pillars of the door,
And he forc'd and forc'd and forc'd,
Down the golden hinges tore.
And along the pavement sweet,
Set with pearls and rubies bright,
All his slimy length he drew
Till upon the altar white
Vomiting his poison out
On the bread and on the wine.
So I turn'd into a sty
And laid me down among the swine.
poem by William Blake
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Equally Holy....
there is no difference,
in the man painting the walls
of the chapel,
and the homeless man pissing
in the alley...
in the Madonna,
and the young woman
giving birth on the floor
of a welfare apartment.
in the Buddha,
and the child starving
to death in a third world country...
in the doctor saving lives,
and the addict on the street.
in the peacemaker,
and the soldier afraid on the battlefield...
in the leader, the priest, and the whore.
in black or white, and the illegal immigrant.
all are equally holy!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Kid On Summer Joy
Packed my books in my chattel
Rush and pray in a chapel
Off i go to summer school
Dance and swim in the summer pool.
Take my canoe to the summer beach
Paddle whole day with Mom and Dad
Summer comes once in a year
No more work but everyday
New friends, sweet memories we'll make
O we'll bake also cake
Not to placed in a case
But to eat, because its summer fun
Mom and Dad, O set me free
I will be good, because am a good boy
Buy me things and summer toy
For i am ROB ROY
The kid on summer joy
poem by mohamed Alpha Ba
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