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Wisdom and spirit of the Universe Thou soul is the eternity of thought That giv'st to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion Not in vain By day or star-light thus from by first dawn Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me The passions that build up our human soul, Not with the mean and vulgar works of man, But with high objects, with enduring things, With life and nature, purifying thus The elements of feeling and of thought, And sanctifying, by such discipline Both pain and fear, until we recognize A grandeur in the beatings of the heart.

quote by William Wordsworth
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The Gods should Descend to Save the People

The Muslims all over the world
unleashed a wave
of violent protests
against America's lethargy
for putting that culprit into the prison
who dared to shoot a vulgar film
on their prophet.
The people of all the cults shout
'There is no God but their own'.

The fisher-folk of Koodankulam in Tamil Nadu
stood chest deep in the Bay of Bengal
voicing their protest against
the nuclear power project
which is going to kick start
its harmful radiation business.
The police force dared not
to wet their boots in the sea.
The scarce power makes life a farce!
----

poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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The Usher's Charge

Now, Jurymen, hear my advice -
All kinds of vulgar prejudice
I pray you set aside:
With stern judicial frame of mind -
From bias free of every kind,
This trial must be tried!

Oh, listen to the plaintiff's case:
Observe the features of her face -
The broken-hearted bride!
Condole with her distress of mind -
From bias free of every kind,
This trial must be tried!

And when amid the plaintiff's shrieks,
The ruffianly defendant speaks -
Upon the other side;
What HE may say you need not mind -
From bias free of every kind,
This trial must be tried!

poem by WS Gilbert
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The Photograph

In this obscene photograph sold in the street
secretly (have to watch out for the police),
in this whorish photograph,
how could there be such a dream-like face?
How did you get in here?

Who knows what a degrading, vulgar life you lead;
how horrible the surroundings must have been
when you posed to have this picture taken;
what a cheap soul you must have.
But in spite of all this, and even more, you remain for me
the dream-like face, the figure
shaped for and dedicated to the Hellenic kind of pleasure-
that's how you remain for me
and how my poetry speaks about you.

poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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To Love (Amanda)

Sweet tyrant Love,- but hear me now!
And cure while young this pleasing smart;
Or rather aid my trembling vow,
And teach me to reveal my heart.

Tell her, whose goodness is my bane,
Whose looks have smiled my peace away,
Oh! whisper how she gives me pain,
Whilst undesigning, frank, and gay.

'Tis not for common charms I sigh,
For what the vulgar beauty call;
'Tis not a cheek, a lip, an eye,
But 'tis the soul that lights them all!

For that I drop the tender tear,
For that I make this artless moan;
Oh! sigh it, Love! into her ear,
And make the bashful lover known.

poem by James Thomson
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On Receiving A Book From Dante Rossetti

Since he is Poet of whom gods ordain
Some most anthropic and perhuman act
Whereby his manhood shall so man his fact
That but his man of man is born again,
And since humanity is most humane,
Not at our pyramid's base, where we have tact
Of dust and supersurge the common tract
Of being, but up there, where form doth reign
To apex, let a Poet ask no fame
But that which, high o'er floods of Life and Death
From singing arks Ararat echoeth
To Ararat, and let him rather be,
Oh Poet, writ on yonder page by thee
Than hear what vulgar breath should make his world-wide name.

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Reaction

Let us, dear friend, in mutual strength arise
Against our tyrant Custom, and demand
Free souls and bodies at our own command.
Let us defy the vulgar world's surprise,
Scorn brute convention and soft compromise,
And, bold in proud revolt, and hand in hand,
Cast in our lot and take our fearless stand
With the unsafe, improper, and unwise.

Let us abjure the comfortable creeds
Approved by prudent minds, and revel free
In foolish thoughts and inexpedient deeds; —
For thus alone can life for you and me
Out of this suffocating sloth revive,
And our small spark of good be kept alive.

poem by Ada Cambridge
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To Shakespeare

Most tuneful singer, lover tenderest,
Most sad, most piteous, and most musical,
Thine is the shrine more pilgrim-worn than all
The shrines of singers; high above the rest
Thy trumpet sounds most loud, most manifest.
Yet better were it if a lonely call
Of woodland birds, a song, a madrigal,
Were all the jetsam of thy sea's unrest.

For now thy praises have become too loud
On vulgar lips, and every yelping cur
Yaps thee a paean ; the whiles little men,
Not tall enough to worship in a crowd,
Spit their small wits at thee. Ah ! better then
The broken shrine, the lonely worshipper.

poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
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Sonnet VI. (Translated From Milton)

Enamour'd, artless, young, on foreign ground,
Uncertain whither from myself to fly,
To thee, dear Lady, with an humble sigh
Let me devote my heart, which I have found
By certain proofs not few, intrepid, sound,
Good, and addicted to conceptions high:
When tempests shake the world, and fire the sky,
It rests in adamant self-wrapt around,
As safe from envy, and from outrage rude,
From hopes and fears, that vulgar minds abuse,
As fond of genius, and fix'd fortitude,
Of the resounding lyre, and every Muse.
Weak you will find it in one only part,
Now pierc'd by Love's immedicable dart.

poem by William Cowper
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Helpless

I am a helpless fellow.
But I dream of a sweet day, and it will be mellow.
I have had my mysterious thoughts as a companion.
It will work between me and the world as a mediation.
I know, I will not be sympathized.
I know, I will never get back my personalty as a perpetual and recognized.
My Lord says, “ Act for right justice as a proud
through which you can make your sentence loud.”
My perceived sense from seminary will go for vulgar
If I stay vouching wrong deeds longer.
So, I need to be stronger.
Though I am a helpless,
but someday you can see a charming fondness from this helpless…

poem by Bibhakar Dutta
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