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Source: (consider it) Thread: Poetic association game
the famous rachel
Shipmate
# 1258

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What means this metal in windy belfries hung
When guns are all our need? Dissolve these bells
Whose tones are tuned for peace: with martial tongue
Let them cry doom and storm the sun with shells.

Siegfried Sassoon

--------------------
A shrivelled appendix to the body of Christ.

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Cottontail

Shipmate
# 12234

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We are they who come faster than fate: we are they who ride early or late:
We storm at your ivory gate: Pale Kings of the Sunset, beware!
Not on silk nor in samet we lie, not in curtained solemnity die
Among women who chatter and cry, and children who mumble a prayer.
But we sleep by the ropes of the camp, and we rise with a shout, and we tramp
With the sun or the moon for a lamp, and the spray of the wind in our hair.

James Elroy Flecker, The War Song of the Saracens

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"I don't think you ought to read so much theology," said Lord Peter. "It has a brutalizing influence."

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North East Quine

Curious beastie
# 13049

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Faster than fairies, faster than witches,
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;
And charging along like troops in a battle,
All through the meadows the horses and cattle:

Robert Louis Stevenson From a Railway Carriage

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Firenze

Ordinary decent pagan
# 619

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Warlocks and witches in a dance;
Nae cotillion brent-new frae France,
But hornpipes, jigs strathspeys, and reels,
Put life and mettle in their heels.
A winnock-bunker in the east,
There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast;
A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large,
To gie them music was his charge:
He scre'd the pipes and gart them skirl,
Till roof and rafters a' did dirl.--

Robert Burns Tam o' Shanter

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QLib

Bad Example
# 43

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Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?

Keats: Ode to a Nightingale

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Tradition is the handing down of the flame, not the worship of the ashes Gustav Mahler.

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Penny S
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# 14768

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By the craggy hill-side,
Through the mosses bare
They have planted thorn trees
For pleasure here and there.
Is any man so daring
To dig up one in spite,
He shall find the thornies set
In his bed at night.

The Fairy Folk William Allingham

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the famous rachel
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# 1258

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Where are you going to, little brown mouse?
Come and have tea in my treetop house.
It's frightfully nice of you owl, but no -
I'm going to have tea with a gruffalo

Julia Dondaldson

OK - a bit of a stretch, but I've been trying to get the Gruffalo in for ages!

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A shrivelled appendix to the body of Christ.

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Firenze

Ordinary decent pagan
# 619

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The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.

Edward Lear The Owl and the Pussycat

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Curiosity killed ...

Ship's Mug
# 11770

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Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve.

More Lear, this time The Jumblies

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Mugs - Keep the Ship afloat

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jacobsen

seeker
# 14998

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Deep in the sunsearched growths the dragon-fly
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky: -
So this winged hour is dropt to us from above.
Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower,
This close-companioned inarticulate hour
When twofold silence was the song of love.

Silent Noon by Christina Rossetti

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But God, holding a candle, looks for all who wander, all who search. - Shifra Alon
Beauty fades, dumb is forever-Judge Judy
The man who made time, made plenty.

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Jamat
Shipmate
# 11621

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Who is the third who walks always beside you
When I count there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle hooded
I do not know whether a man or a woman
But who is that on the other side of you?

What is that sound high in the air
Murmur of material lamentation
Who are those hooded hordes swarming
Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth
Ringed by the flat horizon only
What is the city over the mountains
Cracks and reforms and bursts in the Violet air

The Waste Land T S Eliot

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QLib

Bad Example
# 43

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Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

Owen: Dulce et Decorum est

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Tradition is the handing down of the flame, not the worship of the ashes Gustav Mahler.

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Firenze

Ordinary decent pagan
# 619

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Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Making the green one red.

Shakespeare Macbeth

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Penny S
Shipmate
# 14768

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"Madam, you see before you stand,
Heigh-ho! never be still!
The Old Original Favourite Grand
Grasshopper's Green Herbarian Band,
And the tune we play is Rilloby-rilloby,
Madam, the tune is Rilloby-rill."

Henry Newbolt, away from the Empire.
Rilloby-Rill

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QLib

Bad Example
# 43

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When the mob came and got her and dragged her from the jail, madam
They strung her upon the old willow across the way
And the moment before she died
She lifted up her lovely head and cried, madam
Miss Otis regrets she's unable to lunch today

Cole Porter: Miss Otis Regrets

I'm not apologising for the fact that this is technically a lyric: 'tis poetic IMHO.

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Tradition is the handing down of the flame, not the worship of the ashes Gustav Mahler.

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Firenze

Ordinary decent pagan
# 619

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Now I feel just as sure as I'm sure that my name
Isn't Willow, titwillow, titwillow
That 'twas blighted affection that made him exclaim
"Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow"
And if you remain callous and obdurate, I
Shall perish as he did, and you will know why
Though I probably shall not exclaim as I die
"Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow"

W S Gilbert The Mikado

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Doublethink.
Ship's Foolwise Unperson
# 1984

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The poor soul sat singing by a sycamore tree.
Sing all a green willow:
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow:
The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans;
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones;

Shakespeare: Otello

(Crosspost)

[ 18. August 2014, 21:02: Message edited by: Doublethink ]

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All political thinking for years past has been vitiated in the same way. People can foresee the future only when it coincides with their own wishes, and the most grossly obvious facts can be ignored when they are unwelcome. George Orwell

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Doublethink.
Ship's Foolwise Unperson
# 1984

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The clear-eyed, callous stars look down
On darkened field and lighted town,
Slow moving through unmeasured space,
Or set in their appointed place,

The Callous Stars, Dylan Thomas

--------------------
All political thinking for years past has been vitiated in the same way. People can foresee the future only when it coincides with their own wishes, and the most grossly obvious facts can be ignored when they are unwelcome. George Orwell

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Jamat
Shipmate
# 11621

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She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

She walks in Beauty Byron

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Jamat ..in utmost longditude, where Heaven
with Earth and ocean meets, the setting sun slowly descended, and with right aspect
Against the eastern gate of Paradise. (Milton Paradise Lost Bk iv)

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Cottontail

Shipmate
# 12234

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Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I’ll not look for wine.

Ben Jonson, Song: To Celia

--------------------
"I don't think you ought to read so much theology," said Lord Peter. "It has a brutalizing influence."

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Baptist Trainfan
Shipmate
# 15128

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And is it true ? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,

No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare -
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.


John Betjeman again.

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Firenze

Ordinary decent pagan
# 619

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Oranges and lemons,
Say the bells of St. Clement's.

You owe me five farthings,
Say the bells of St. Martin's.

When will you pay me?
Say the bells of Old Bailey.

Anon Oranges and Lemons

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Baptist Trainfan
Shipmate
# 15128

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On Martinmas eve the dogs did bark,
And I opened the window to see,
When every maiden went by with her spark
But neer a one came to me.
And O dear what will become of me?
And O dear what shall I do,
When nobody whispers to marry me--
Nobody cometh to woo?

John Clare.

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Albertus
Shipmate
# 13356

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Vital spark of heavenly flame,
Quit, O quit this mortal frame!
Trembling, hoping, lingering flying,
O the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.

Alexander Pope

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QLib

Bad Example
# 43

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With trembling fingers did we weave
The holly round the Christmas hearth;
A rainy cloud possess'd the earth,
And sadly fell our Christmas-eve.

Tennyson: In Memoriam XXX

[ 19. August 2014, 12:27: Message edited by: QLib ]

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Tradition is the handing down of the flame, not the worship of the ashes Gustav Mahler.

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Albertus
Shipmate
# 13356

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Jenny made her mind up when she was three
She herself was going to trim the Christmas tree
Christmas Eve she lit the candles, tossed the tapers away
Little Jenny was an orphan on Christmas day

Ira Gershwin

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jacobsen

seeker
# 14998

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Jenny kissed me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in!
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have missed me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
Jenny kissed me.

Leigh Hunt

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But God, holding a candle, looks for all who wander, all who search. - Shifra Alon
Beauty fades, dumb is forever-Judge Judy
The man who made time, made plenty.

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North East Quine

Curious beastie
# 13049

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Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky.

T.S. Eliot - Journey of the Magi

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QLib

Bad Example
# 43

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Ice in the trees.
Three Queens at the Palace gates,
dressed in furs, accented;
their several sweating panting beasts,
laden for a long, hard trek.

Carol Ann Duffy: Queen Herod (Sorry, no link)

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Tradition is the handing down of the flame, not the worship of the ashes Gustav Mahler.

Posts: 8913 | From: Page 28 | Registered: May 2001  |  IP: Logged
Firenze

Ordinary decent pagan
# 619

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"Yet Cloe sure was form'd without a spot---
Nature in her then err'd not, but forgot.
"With ev'ry pleasing, ev'ry prudent part,
"Say, what can Cloe want?---she wants a Heart.
She speaks, behaves, and acts just as she ought;
But never, never, reach'd one gen'rous Thought.
Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour,
Content to dwell in Decencies for ever.
So very reasonable, so unmov'd,
As never yet to love, or to be lov'd.
She, while her Lover pants upon her breast,
Can mark the figures on an Indian chest;
And when she sees her Friend in deep despair,
Observes how much a Chintz exceeds Mohair.

Alexander Pope Epistle to a Lady

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Cottontail

Shipmate
# 12234

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Such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart—how shall I say?— too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; she liked whate’er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.

Robert Browning, My Last Duchess

--------------------
"I don't think you ought to read so much theology," said Lord Peter. "It has a brutalizing influence."

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Albertus
Shipmate
# 13356

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Cancer has killed him. Heart is killing her.
The trees are down. An Odeon flashes fire
Where stood their villa by the murmuring fir
When ” they would for their children’s good conspire. ”
Of their loves and hopes on hurrying feet
Thou art the worn memorial, Baker Street.
John Betjeman, Baker Street Station Buffet

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Firenze

Ordinary decent pagan
# 619

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From Brig o' Dread when thou may'st pass,
To Purgatory fire thou com'st at last;
If ever thou gavest meat or drink,
The fire sall never make thee shrink;
If meat or drink thou ne'er gav'st nane,
The fire will burn thee to the bare bane;

Anon Lyke Wake Dirge

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QLib

Bad Example
# 43

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With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could nor laugh nor wail;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I suck'd the blood,
And cried, A sail! a sail!

Coleridge: Rime of the Ancient Mariner

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Tradition is the handing down of the flame, not the worship of the ashes Gustav Mahler.

Posts: 8913 | From: Page 28 | Registered: May 2001  |  IP: Logged
Curiosity killed ...

Ship's Mug
# 11770

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I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking,

Sea Fever John Masefield

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Mugs - Keep the Ship afloat

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Firenze

Ordinary decent pagan
# 619

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When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

WB Yeats When you are old

Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001  |  IP: Logged
Curiosity killed ...

Ship's Mug
# 11770

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Today I am going to kill something. Anything.
I have had enough of being ignored and today
I am going to play God. It is an ordinary day,
a sort of grey with boredom stirring in the streets.

Education for Leisure Carol Duffy

--------------------
Mugs - Keep the Ship afloat

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the famous rachel
Shipmate
# 1258

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Once more the maiden's eyelid flickers.
She draws the pistol from her knickers.
Once more she hits the vital spot,
And kills him with a single shot.

Roald Dahl

[ 23. August 2014, 19:23: Message edited by: the famous rachel ]

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A shrivelled appendix to the body of Christ.

Posts: 912 | From: In the lab. | Registered: Aug 2001  |  IP: Logged
QLib

Bad Example
# 43

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I syng of a mayden
Þat is makeles,
kyng of alle kynges
to here sone che ches
Anon

Translation:
I sing of a maiden
That is matchless,
King of all kings
For her son she chose.


--------------------
Tradition is the handing down of the flame, not the worship of the ashes Gustav Mahler.

Posts: 8913 | From: Page 28 | Registered: May 2001  |  IP: Logged
Cottontail

Shipmate
# 12234

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"O where ha you been, Lord Randal, my son?
And where ha you been, my handsome young man?”
“I ha been at the greenwood; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi hunting, and fain wad lie down."

Anonymous, Lord Randall

--------------------
"I don't think you ought to read so much theology," said Lord Peter. "It has a brutalizing influence."

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Jamat
Shipmate
# 11621

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On my Bed night after night I sought him
Whom my soul loves;
I sought him but did not find him.
'I must arise now and go about the city;
In the streets and in the squares
I must seek him whom my soul loves.'
I sought him but did not find him.

Song of Songs 3:1,2(NASB)

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Mamacita

Lakefront liberal
# 3659

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with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us like the earth
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

W. S Merwin, Thanks

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Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.

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Baptist Trainfan
Shipmate
# 15128

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Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.


Stevie Smith.

[ 24. August 2014, 07:33: Message edited by: Baptist Trainfan ]

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Cottontail

Shipmate
# 12234

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But the swagman, he up and he jumped in the water-hole,
Drowning himself by the Coolabah tree;
And his ghost may be heard as it sings in the Billabong,
"Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?"

Andrew Barton, Waltzing Matilda

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"I don't think you ought to read so much theology," said Lord Peter. "It has a brutalizing influence."

Posts: 2377 | From: Scotland | Registered: Jan 2007  |  IP: Logged
Firenze

Ordinary decent pagan
# 619

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Matilda told such Dreadful Lies,
It made one Gasp and Stretch one's Eyes;
Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth,
Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth,
Attempted to Believe Matilda:
The effort very nearly killed her,

Hilaire Belloc Matilda

Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001  |  IP: Logged
jacobsen

seeker
# 14998

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To the heart of youth the world is a highwayside.
Passing for ever, he fares; and on either hand,
Deep in the gardens golden pavilions hide,
Nestle in orchard bloom, and far on the level land
Call him with lighted lamp in the eventide.


Robert Louis Stevenson

[ 24. August 2014, 13:34: Message edited by: jacobsen ]

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But God, holding a candle, looks for all who wander, all who search. - Shifra Alon
Beauty fades, dumb is forever-Judge Judy
The man who made time, made plenty.

Posts: 8040 | From: Æbleskiver country | Registered: Aug 2009  |  IP: Logged
QLib

Bad Example
# 43

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And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

Coleridge: Kubla Khan

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Tradition is the handing down of the flame, not the worship of the ashes Gustav Mahler.

Posts: 8913 | From: Page 28 | Registered: May 2001  |  IP: Logged
Curiosity killed ...

Ship's Mug
# 11770

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The bed we loved in was a spinning world
of forests, castles, torchlight, clifftops, seas
where we would dive for pearls. My lover's words
were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses
on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme
to his, now echo, assonance; his touch
a verb dancing in the centre of a noun.

Anne Hathaway - Carol Duffy

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Mugs - Keep the Ship afloat

Posts: 13794 | From: outiside the outer ring road | Registered: Aug 2006  |  IP: Logged
Firenze

Ordinary decent pagan
# 619

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The splendour falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story:
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

Tennyson The Princess

Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001  |  IP: Logged
Curiosity killed ...

Ship's Mug
# 11770

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Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead!
There’s none of these so lonely and poor of old,
But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold.
These laid the world away; poured out the red
Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be
Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene,
That men call age; and those who would have been,
Their sons, they gave, their immortality.

The Dead, Rupert Brooke

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Mugs - Keep the Ship afloat

Posts: 13794 | From: outiside the outer ring road | Registered: Aug 2006  |  IP: Logged



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