Quotes about hover, page 24
Reflections of a Proud Pedestrian
I saw the curl of his waving lash,
And the glance of his knowing eye,
And I knew that he thought he was cutting a dash,
As his steed went thundering by.
And he may ride in the rattling gig,
Or flourish the Stanhope gay,
And dream that he looks exceeding big
To the people that walk in the way;
But he shall think, when the night is still,
On the stable-boy’s gathering numbers,
And the ghost of many a veteran bill
Shall hover around his slumbers;
The ghastly dun shall worry his sleep,
And constables cluster around him,
And he shall creep from the wood-hole deep
Where their spectre eyes have found him!
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poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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~ The dancing woman ~
~ The dancing woman ~
~
You are like the shadows that hover over me,
will you ever be mine to a dancing spree,
when you walk pass my way,
I start to tremble and marvel so I pray,
will your eyes ever capture me,
so i can admire and yet to see,
You dance like no other,
so some men dont even bother,
I often wonder, when will it be my turn,
so my heart sometimes i feel it burn,
You are the woman in my dreams,
I think some men might often deem,
You are a virturous woman in your own unique dance,
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poem by Dandy leo jr.
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Long live our king! (a skit poetry)
Among the rats, the king asked his subjects
to democratise education in his la, la land
with the best intention to make them understand
the essence of the ‘king' but Karl raised the
validity of teaching English in their country
but the ghost of globalisation out of the grave
to hover in every sphere including science
and technology, Komsky from the first world
with a heart of that third, a sympathiser of the
poor and the hater of the war, had an effective
mechanism to bring equilibrium in society eroding
away inequality, the head of the powerful committee
Pack brought out in a nick of time from the neck of
the jar of nectar : learning to know, learning to do,
learning to be, learning to live together; eureka! Eureka!
jumped up the king and started shouting ‘education for
all and all are allowed to access education, equality and
justice for all except the king as he is the head of the state
among us equals'
poem by Abdul Wahab
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The Soul's Season
Souls have music, which if shared, is transforming
and I was too upon hearing yours
Spirits fly and seldom land
but when they do hearts soar;
mine flew when your Spirit lighted.
I’m convinced that children are the angels
we humans are allowed
(well, most of them)
and are reminders of why we former cave dwellers
are on this earth.
I am convinced that seeing forever
is best done through another’s eyes;
that loving most is learned best
when one learns to love that which is not ourselves.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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To Ellinda Upon His Late Recovery. A Paradox
I.
How I grieve that I am well!
All my health was in my sicknes,
Go then, Destiny, and tell,
Very death is in this quicknes.
II.
Such a fate rules over me,
That I glory when I languish,
And do blesse the remedy,
That doth feed, not quench my anguish.
III.
'Twas a gentle warmth that ceas'd
In the vizard of a feavor;
But I feare now I am eas'd
All the flames, since I must leave her.
IV.
Joyes, though witherd, circled me,
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poem by Richard Lovelace
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An Improvisation For Angular Momentum
Walking is like
imagination, a
single step
dissolves the circle
into motion; the eye here
and there rests
on a leaf,
gap, or ledge,
everything flowing
except where
sight touches seen:
stop, though, and
reality snaps back
in, locked hard,
forms sharply
themselves, bushbank,
dentree, phoneline,
definite, fixed,
the self, too, then
caught real, clouds
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poem by Archie Randolph Ammons
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At Twilight
You are a painter—listen—
I'll paint you a picture too!
Of the long white lights that glisten
Through Michigan Avenue;
With the red lights down the middle
Where the street shines mirror-wet,
While the rain-strung sky is a fiddle
For the wind to feel and fret.
Look! far in the east great spaces
Meet out on the level lake,
Where the lit ships veil their faces
And glide like ghosts at a wake;
And up in the air, high over
The rain-shot shimmer of light,
The huge sky-scrapers hover
And shake out their stars at the night.
Oh, the city trails gold tassels
From the skirts of her purple gown,
And lifts up her commerce castles
Like a jewel-studded crown.
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poem by Harriet Monroe
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The Legacy
When in death I shall calmly recline,
O bear my heart to my mistress dear,
Tell her it lived upon smiles and wine
Of the brightest hue, while it linger'd here.
Bid her not shed one tear of sorrow
To sully a heart so brilliant and light;
But balmy drops of the red grape borrow,
To bathe the relic from morn till night.
When the light of my song is o'er,
Then take my harp to your ancient hall;
Hang it up at that friendly door,
Where weary travellers love to call.
Then if some bard, who roams forsaken,
Revive its soft note in passing along,
Oh! let one thought of its master waken
Your warmest smile for the child of song.
Keep this cup, which is now o'erflowing,
To grace your revel, when I'm at rest;
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poem by Thomas Moore
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Mother of Mercy
Mother of mercy breathe your life into me,
Open my mind let me see everything there is to see,
Mother of mercy, take my hand and guide me to the pearly gates,
Show me the land of make believe,
Put me to somber sleep and make me dream,
Make me dream of the world around me so beautifully surreal,
Take me under your wing and take me away from what’s real,
Mend the broken covenant of morals by stitching the broken seal,
Mother of mercy, take me to the window where the light shines through,
In my dreams, mother of mercy, every night I dream of you,
Spread your wings and hover over my bedside and protect me from all evil,
Mother of mercy, open the window so I can see the light,
Let the light shine through my eyes so bright,
Be alive so I can be protected in the night,
When the light shines through spread your wings,
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poem by Kurt Kacich
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Letter Sent to Master Timmy Dwight
Master Timmy brisk and airy
Blythe as Oberon the fairy
On thy head thy cousin wishes
Thousand and ten thousand blisses.
Never may thy wicket ball
In a well or puddle fall;
Or thy wild ambitious kite
O'er the elm's thick foliage light.
When on bended knee thou sittest
And the mark in fancy hittest
May thy marble truly trace
Where thy wishes mark'd the place.
If at hide and seek you play,
All involved in the hay
Titt'ring hear the joyful sound
"Timmy never can be found."
If you hop or if you run
Or whatever is the fun
Vic'try with her sounding pinion
Hover o'er her little minion.
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poem by Major Henry Livingston Jr.
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