Epitaph On A Friend
An honest man here lies at rest,
The friend of man, the friend of truth,
The friend of age, and guide of youth:
Few hearts like his, with virtue warm'd,
Few heads with knowledge so inform'd;
If there's another world, he lives in bliss;
If there is none, he made the best of this.
~ by Robert Burns
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Friday, January 20, 2017
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Crossing the Bar, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Crossing the Bar
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.
(by Alfred, Lord Tennyson)
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.
(by Alfred, Lord Tennyson)
Labels:
Crossing the Bar,
Epitaphs,
poem,
Sea,
Tennyson
Tuesday, November 8, 2016
The moment of the rose...
"The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree
Are of equal duration."
~ T.S. Eliot, from Little Gidding
Are of equal duration."
~ T.S. Eliot, from Little Gidding
Labels:
Brief Life,
Epitaphs,
poem,
Roses,
The moment of the rose
Poem about a brief life, "the days of wine and roses" (Ernest Dowson)
They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,
Love and desire and hate:
I think they have no portion in us after
We pass the gate.
They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
Within a dream.
~ Ernest Dowson
Love and desire and hate:
I think they have no portion in us after
We pass the gate.
They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
Within a dream.
~ Ernest Dowson
Labels:
Brief Life,
Days of Wine and Roses,
Dowson -Ernest,
Epitaphs,
poem,
Roses
Monday, November 7, 2016
Forget Me Not
Forget me not, for I have lived and loved, mourned and grieved, and been joyous. Forget me not, for I am no longer of this earth, but of the spirit. Forget me not, for the Lord knows me, and I know the Lord. Forget me not, for I am.
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