Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Sonnet 43

How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

------

I figured this website was long overdue for another poem!

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Courage

Courage is the strength to stand up
When it's easier to fall down and lose hold.
It is the conviction to explore new horizons
When it's easier to believe what we've been told.
Courage is the desire to maintain our integrity
When it's easier to look the other way.
It is feeling happy and alive, and moving forward
When it's easier to feel sorry for ourselves and stay.
Courage is the will to shape our world
When it's easier to let someone else do it for us.
It is the recognition that none of us are perfect
When it's easier to criticize others and fuss.
Courage is the power to step forward and lead
When it's easier to follow the crowd; their pleas resound.
It is the spirit that places you on top of the mountain
When it's easier to never leave the ground.
The foundation of courage is solid,
The rock that doesn't roll.
Courage is the freedom
Of our mind, body, and soul!
~~ Author Unknown ~~

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Time Machines

"We all have our time machines.  Some take us back, they're called memories.  Some take us forward, they're called dreams."
-   Jeremy Irons 

Monday, April 4, 2011

A Red, Red Rose

A Red, Red Rose
by Robert Burns

O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That’s sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry:

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee well, my only Luve
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

The World Is Too Much With Us

The World Is Too Much With Us
by William Wordsworth (1807)

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.—Great God!  I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Song For Spring

SONG FOR SPRING
It's almost here - It's safe to say
I saw a Crocus yesterday
Its' colors bright - A lovely thing
My heart Rejoiced! 'Twil soon be Spring!
The winter blues will soon be gone
And birds will soon burst forth in song
The coral bells will gently ring
The Daphne yells "It's almost Spring!"
It's neary here! It's coming fast!
The Robins will appear at last
Oh Wonderous Joy! I too shall sing!
And join in Nature's "Song for Spring"

M.Garren

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Unforgotten

Unforgotten
by Robert Service

I know a garden where the lilies gleam,
   And one who lingers in the sunshine there;
   She is than white-clothed lily far more fair,
And, oh, her eyes are heaven-lit with dream!

I know a garret, cold and dark and drear,
   And one who toils and toils with tireless pen,
   Until his brave, sad eyes grow weary – then
He seeks the stars pale, silent as a seer.

And, ah, it’s strange; for, desolate and dim,
   Between these two there rolls a country wide;
   Yet he is in the garden by her side
And she is in garret there with him.