Quotes about tether, page 5
Fallen is Star - 1053 - Initial Version of Downfall
Fallen is star which once brightly
and clear from the firmament shone,
no trace now remains as Time lightly
grieves over life's leaves ever gone.
Whoever would compromise slightly
with principles from life's staff spun
presents an impression unsightly
some pity, some spurn, and most shun.
Ideals threading vision so knightly
no gleam still retain - what begun
in trust rusts unfinished, so rightly
forgotten, ignored and undone.
Though today some may say hale and sprightly
‘tomorrow holds promise' - yet none
would relinquish that tether held tightly,
soon Time's drops spill, all's still, distance run.
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXVI
Youth is all valiant. He and I together,
Conscious of strength, and unreproved of wrong,
Strained at the world's conventions as a tether
Too weak to bind us, and burst forth in song.
The backs of fools we scourged as with a thong,
And falsehood stripped to its last borrowed feather,
And vowed to fact what things to fact belong,
And of the rest asked neither why nor whether.
Gravely we triumphed in that Gorgon time,
Unsexed for us at length thro' lack of faith,
Our barren mistress, from whose womb sublime
No beauty more should spring, but only death.
Like birds we sang by some volcanic brink,
Leaning on ugliness, and did not shrink.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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If I Were King
If I were king, my pipe should be premier.
The skies of time and chance are seldom clear,
We would inform them all with bland blue weather.
Delight alone would need to shed a tear,
For dream and deed should war no more together.
Art should aspire, yet ugliness be dear;
Beauty, the shaft, should speed with wit for feather;
And love, sweet love, should never fall to sere,
If I were king.
But politics should find no harbour near;
The Philistine should fear to slip his tether;
Tobacco should be duty free, and beer;
In fact, in room of this, the age of leather,
An age of gold all radiant should appear,
If I were king.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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The Men of the Open Spaces
These are the men with the sun-tanned faces
and the keen far-sighted eyes-
the men of the open spaces,
and the land where the mirage lies.
The men who have learnt to master
the forces of fire and drought
and the demon Flood's disaster
in the fields of furthest out.
The men who have stood together
and shared in the fight with fate
and known the strength of the tether
that holds a mate to his mate.
Who ride with a gallant bearing
where every saddle's a throne,
and each is an emperor sharing
an empire enough for his own.
[...] Read more
poem by William Henry Ogilvie
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A Hymn
O God of earth and altar,
Bow down and hear our cry,
Our earthly rulers falter,
Our people drift and die;
The walls of gold entomb us,
The swords of scorn divide,
Take not thy thunder from us,
But take away our pride.
From all that terror teaches,
From lies of tongue and pen,
From all the easy speeches
That comfort cruel men,
From sale and profanation
Of honour and the sword,
From sleep and from damnation,
Deliver us, good Lord.
Tie in a living tether
The prince and priest and thrall,
[...] Read more
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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[Month of] October
Look, how those steep woods on the mountain's face
Burn, burn against the sunset; now the cold
Invades our very noon: the year's grown old,
Mornings are dark, and evenings come apace.
The vines below have lost their purple grace,
And in Forreze the white wrack backward rolled,
Hangs to the hills tempestuous, fold on fold,
And moaning gusts make desolate all the place.
Mine host the month, at thy good hostelry,
Tired limbs I'll stretch and steaming beast I'll tether;
Pile on great logs with Gascon hand and free,
And pour the Gascon stuff that laughs at weather;
Swell your tough lungs, north wind, no whit care we,
Singing old songs and drinking wine together.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
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I think i am a bit possesive
I know these guys from my childhood
To me they have always been good.
We have sat together in all the bowers of a school
To think they’ll be with me till the end
Is an act of a fool?
I never wanted our friendship to be torn
And make these guys people of the bygone.
I always want them to be tether in my friends circle.
I want them to be with me till I get my freckles.
In my life they have been in my circle of peers
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poem by Venkatesh Bang
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A Hymn
O God of earth and altar,
Bow down and hear our cry,
Our earthly rulers falter,
Our people drift and die;
The walls of gold entomb us,
The swords of scorn divide,
Take not thy thunder from us,
But take away our pride.
From all that terror teaches,
From lies of tongue and pen,
From all the easy speeches
That comfort cruel men,
From sale and profanation
Of honour and the sword,
From sleep and from damnation,
Deliver us, good Lord.
Tie in a living tether
The prince and priest and thrall,
[...] Read more
poem by G.K. Chesterton (1906)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Speeding
To Ivo Alan Charteris, October 17th, 1915
Requiescat is not my bidding,
That is the weary man's right speeding;
You, O Child, full of life and laughter,
Joy to you now and long days hereafter!
Light of foot, ever running and leaping,
Who would tether your feet to sleeping?
Who would stretch you on a sad bed?
A flying light was your golden head.
Many a game and a goal be given
To you in the playing-fields of Heaven;
Be as you were, a light shape of joy,
Glad in the strength and the grace of a boy.
Dear and young, here's the prayer I pray for you;
Heaven be full of new life and play for you!
Swift as an arrow, light as a swallow,
[...] Read more
poem by Katharine Tynan
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In The Year That's Come and Gone
In the year that's come and gone, love, his flying feather
Stooping slowly, gave us heart, and bade us walk together.
In the year that's coming on, though many a troth be broken,
We at least will not forget aught that love hath spoken.
In the year that's come and gone, dear, we wove a tether
All of gracious words and thoughts, binding two together.
In the year that's coming on with its wealth of roses
We shall weave it stronger, yet, ere the circle closes.
In the year that's come and gone, in the golden weather,
Sweet, my sweet, we swore to keep the watch of life together.
In the year that's coming on, rich in joy and sorrow,
We shall light our lamp, and wait life's mysterious morrow.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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