Quotes about hover, page 28
A simple, cheerful active life on earth
A simple, cheerful, active life on earth,
A cup I’d not exchange for monarch’s chalice,
In noble forebears’ tracks a path since birth,
With equal dignity in hut and palace,
With eye as when created heav’nward turned,
All beauty here and grandness keenly knowing,
Familiar though with those things deeply yearned,
Stilled only by eternity’s bright glowing.
I wished for all my line just such a life,
And zealously I planned for its fruition,
And when my soul grew tired from toil and strife,
The ‘Lord’s Prayer’ was its rest and its nutrition.
Then from truth’s spirit I great comfort gained,
And felt joy hover o’er each garden border,
When dust is placed in its creator’s hand
And all is waited for in nature’s order:
Just fresh, green buds that sprout in early spring,
And in the summer heat the flowers’ profusion;
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poem by Nicolaj Frederik Severin Grundtvig
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Vignette - III
THE ARTISAN.
This twilight gloom. This lone retreat--
This silence to my soul is sweet!
Awhile escap'd from toil and strife,
And all the lesser ills of life,
Here only at the evening's close,
My weary spirit finds repose;
My sinking heart its freedom gains,
Which poverty had bound in chains!
For here unheard the moments fly--
And so secure, so happy I,
That, often at the very last,
I feel not that my dream is past.
The little hour of bliss I spend,
With thee, my chosen, only friend!
That transient hour the heart sustains,
Which poverty has bound in chains!
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poem by Matilda Betham
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Dare not to be a Saint
let the sweetest bloom of strawberry hack the
virgin of the bees and wash away the thirst
of the Lilies in the stream
let the ranging mountain lucidly view the
terrains of the eagle eyes and capture the prey
for a night flying mock of the wings, where
the hungry fish wage the turmoil wave
let the fusion of the night dream the horizon
of beautiful tomorrow, fulfill the window of
the future and lead cool waiting hand reach
the high way of success
let the song be the melody of the heart; strings
every hope of happiness for joy branches the
clings of harmony of wish in each coming day,
the verdicts open to claps
come my soul, and settle the savor of faith,
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poem by Antonio Liao
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Water from the Dust
Just as the pang melted the pain of birth, touching the inner
shadow of blooming sweet on the glittering eyes of the mother
has wonder the passion of life, in the honey comb of the womb
as it welcome the night comes another unbelievable daylight,
unwavering pinnacle of a beautiful sunrise hover the cloudy sky
of victory of a little child born in the midst of a tiny clot of dust
in the moisture of hyacinth dew
perfect as the creator, mystery shade the pavement of
existence that life step forward to the destined heaven of the
highest most journey where, once all were citizen has fall and
will return; a returning home of joy and happiness of the
Father bosom arm
weak tells me the same, and the strength that i owe, invites
to come to know the direction, of one has to go and the
memory has gone; yoke of what is today, as the future fade
for everybody has to stay, that each end is just a only a dust in
the wondering water it surpass of stream to play
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poem by Antonio Liao
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The Wistful Lady
'Love, while you were away there came to me -
From whence I cannot tell -
A plaintive lady pale and passionless,
Who bent her eyes upon me critically,
And weighed me with a wearing wistfulness,
As if she knew me well.'
'I saw no lady of that wistful sort
As I came riding home.
Perhaps she was some dame the Fates constrain
By memories sadder than she can support,
Or by unhappy vacancy of brain,
To leave her roof and roam?'
'Ah, but she knew me. And before this time
I have seen her, lending ear
To my light outdoor words, and pondering each,
Her frail white finger swayed in pantomime,
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poem by Thomas Hardy
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Kicks in return
Mighty rule here and weakest suffer,
Kicks in return when ordinary gifts offer,
Why no system which acts as buffer,
Is there no right to say right and differ?
This question always made me puzzle.
Rain did not offer peace even when dazzle,
It continued to hunt and troubled always,
I sit motionless and try to find new says,
Why I am not that powerful as sun?
Why I always think of using the gun?
Is there no peaceful alternate?
Where all are equal and no subordinate,
Rulers have gone influential have taken over,
Scene remain same but clouds still hover,
No kicks in return but distrustful eyes,
No gestures but unwelcome scene and byes,
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Leaving The Ones Who Do Not Benefit
Doesn't it seem,
Demons come out of hiding.
The moment you decide...
You will live your life,
To do good and what's right!
They begin to hover around like vulchers.
Making attempts to prevent,
Positive interaction.
And this becomes an attraction of sorts,
To thrawart something fresh.
And what becomes presented...
Loses its breath,
To ultimately let die the 'vision'!
Not from the trying.
But a wicked incision of the naysayers.
Who either disapprove of the doer...
Or the amount of attention given.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ballade Of Midsummer Days And Nights
With a ripple of leaves and a tinkle of streams
The full world rolls in a rhythm of praise,
And the winds are one with the clouds and beams -
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!
The dusk grows vast; in a purple haze,
While the West from a rapture of sunset rights,
Faint stars their exquisite lamps upraise -
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!
The wood's green heart is a nest of dreams,
The lush grass thickens and springs and sways,
The rathe wheat rustles, the landscape gleams -
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!
In the stilly fields, in the stilly ways,
All secret shadows and mystic lights,
Late lovers murmur and linger and gaze -
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!
There's a music of bells from the trampling teams,
Wild skylarks hover, the gorses blaze,
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poem by William Ernest Henley
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A Ballad of London
AH, London! London! our delight,
Great flower that opens but at night,
Great City of the midnight sun,
Whose day begins when day is done.
Lamp after lamp against the sky
Opens a sudden beaming eye,
Leaping alight on either hand,
The iron lilies of the Strand.
Like dragonflies, the hansoms hover,
With jeweled eyes, to catch the lover;
The streets are full of lights and loves,
Soft gowns, and flutter of soiled doves.
The human moths about the light
Dash and cling close in dazed delight,
And burn and laugh, the world and wife,
For this is London, this is life!
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poem by Richard Le Gallienne
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A Voice of Reason
As I fiddled her words from the start
Her intellectual voice cried out loud
That tore my heart and fall apart
For this little town to make us proud
Her bravery makes sense to listen
Straight forward without hesitation
To the point that CHANGE is a must
For NEW officials whom they can trust
Hear! Here, I repeat what she uttered
Life of her and the people she cared
Poor of the poorest to walk on a road
Unpaved yet a promise wasn't fulfilled
On a rusted playground, no child is safe
Unclean restrooms, they hover bad whiff
"What must be done? " She questioned them
"What's in their pocket if not gold of shame? "
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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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