Marriage.

LOVE springs as lightly from the human heart
    As springs the lovely rose upon the brier,
    Which turns the common hedge to floral fire,
As Love wings Time with rosy-feathered dart.
But marriage is the subtlest work of art
    Of all the arts which lift the spirit higher;
    The incarnation of the heart's desire--
Which masters Time--set on Man's will apart.

The Many try, but oh! how few are they
    To whom that finest of the arts is given
Which shall teach Love, the rosy runaway,
    To bide from bridal Morn to brooding Even.
Yet this--this only--is the narrow way
    By which, while yet on earth, we enter heaven.

Pastiche.
I.
LOVE, oh, Love's a dainty sweeting,
Wooing now, and now retreating;
Brightest joy and blackest care,
Swift as light, and light as air.
II.
Would you seize and fix and capture
All his evanescent rapture?
Bind him fast with golden curls,
Fetter with a chain of pearls?

III.
Would you catch him in a net,
Like a white moth prankt with jet?
Clutch him, and his bloomy wing
Turns a dead, discoloured thing!

IV.
Pluck him like a rosebud red,
And he leaves a thorn instead;
Let him go without a care,
And he follows unaware.

V.
Love, oh Love's a dainty sweeting,
Wooing now, and now retreating;
Lightly come, and lightly gone,
Lost when most securely won!

Pan in Wall Street

JUST where the Treasury's marble front
Looks over Wall Street's mingled nations;
Where Jews and Gentiles most are wont
To throng for trade and last quotations;
Where, hour by hour, the rates of gold
Outrival, in the ears of people,
The quarter-chimes, serenely tolled
From Trinity's undaunted steeple,--

Even there I heard a strange, wild strain
Sound high above the modern clamor,
Above the cries of greed and gain,
The curbstone war, the auction's hammer;
And swift, on Music's misty ways,
It led, from all this strife for millions,
To ancient, sweet-do-nothing days
Among the kirtle-robed Sicilians.

And as it stilled the multitude,
And yet more joyous rose, and shriller,
I saw the minstrel, where he stood
At ease, against a Doric pillar:
One hand a droning organ played,
The other held a Pan's-pipe (fashioned
Like those of old) to lips that made
The reeds give out that strain impassioned.

'T was Pan himself had wandered here
A-strolling through this sordid city,
And piping to the civic ear
The prelude of some pastoral ditty!
The demigod had crossed the seas,--
From haunts of shepherd, nymph, and satyr,
And Syracusan times,--to these
Far shores and twenty centuries later.

A ragged cap was on his head;
But--hidden thus--there was no doubting
That, all with crispy locks o'erspread,
His gnarled horns were somewhere sprouting;
His club-feet, cased in rusty shoes,
Were crossed, as on some frieze you see them,
And trousers, patched of divers hues,
Concealed his crooked shanks beneath them.

He filled the quivering reeds with sound,
And o'er his mouth their changes shifted,
And with his goat's-eyes looked around
Where'er the passing current drifted;
And soon, as on Trinacrian hills
&nbps;The nymphs and herdsmen ran to hear him,
Even now the tradesmen from their tills,
With clerks and porters, crowded near him.

The bulls and bears together drew
From Jauncey Court and New Street Alley,
As erst, if pastorals be true,
Came beasts from every wooded valley;
The random passers stayed to list,--
A boxer Aegon, rough and merry,
A Broadway Daphnis, on his tryst
With Nais at the Brooklyn Ferry.

A one-eyed Cyclops halted long
In tattered cloak of army pattern,
And Galatea joined the throng,--
A blowsy, apple-vending slattern;
While old Silenus staggered out
From some new-fangled lunch-house handy,
And bade the piper, with a shout,
To strike up "Yankee Doodle Dandy!"

A newsboy and a peanut-girl
Like little Fauns began to caper:
His hair was all in tangled curl,
Her tawny legs were bare and taper;
And still the gathering larger grew,
And gave its pence and crowded nigher,
While aye the shepherd-minstrel blew
His pipe, and struck the gamut higher.

O heart of Nature, beating still
With throbs her vernal passion taught her,--
Even here, as on the vine-clad hill,
Or by the Arethusan water!
New forms may fold the speech, new lands
Arise within these ocean-portals,
But Music waves eternal wands,--
Enchantress of the souls of mortals!

So thought I,--but among us trod
A man in blue, with legal baton,
And scoffed the vagrant demigod,
And pushed him from the step I sat on.
Doubting I mused upon the cry,
"Great Pan is dead!"--and all the people
Went on their ways:--and clear and high
The quarter sounded from the steeple.

Edmund Clarence Stedman

Invocation

THOU,--whose endearing hand once laid in sooth
Upon thy follower, no want thenceforth,
Nor toil, nor joy nor pain, nor waste of years
Filled with all cares that deaden and subdue,
Can make thee less to him--can make thee less
Than sovereign queen, his first liege, and his last
Remembered to the unconscious dying hour,--
Return and be thou kind, bright Spirit of song,
Thou whom I yet loved most, loved most of all
Even when I left thee--I, now so long strayed
From thy beholding! And renew, renew
Thy gift to me fain clinging to thy robe!
Still be thou kind, for still thou wast most dear.

Edmund Clarence Stedman

Mors Benefica

GIVE me to die unwitting of the day,
And stricken in Life's brave heat, with senses clear:
Not swathed and couched until the lines appear
Of Death's wan mask upon this withering clay,
But as that old man eloquent made way
From Earth, a nation's conclave hushed anear;
Or as the chief whose fates, that he may hear
The victory, one glorious moment stay.
Or, if not thus, then with no cry in vain,
No ministrant beside to ward and weep,
Hand upon helm I would my quittance gain
In some wild turmoil of the waters deep,
And sink content into a dreamless sleep
(Spared grave and shroud) below the ancient main.

Edmund Clarence Stedman

Si Jeunesse Savait!

WHEN the veil from the eyes is lifted
The seer's head is gray;
When the sailor to shore has drifted
The sirens are far away.
Why must the clearer vision,
The wisdom of Life's late hour,
Come, as in Fate's derision,
When the hand has lost its power?
Is there a rarer being,
Is there a fairer sphere
Where the strong are not unseeing,
And the harvests are not sere:
Where, ere the seasons dwindle,
They yield their due return;
Where the lamps of knowledge kindle
While the flames of youth still burn?
O, for the young man's chances!
O, for the old man's will!
Those flee while this advances,
And the strong years cheat us still.

Edmund Clarence Stedman

Helen Keller

MUTE, sightless visitant,
From what uncharted world
Hast voyaged into Life's rude sea,
With guidance scant;
As if some bark mysteriously
Should hither glide, with spars aslant
And sails all furled!

In what perpetual dawn,
Child of the spotless brow,
Hast kept thy spirit far withdrawn--
Thy birthright undefiled?
What views to thy sealed eyes appear!
What voices mayst thou hear
Speak as we know not how!
Of grief and sin hast thou,
O radiant child,
Even thou, a share? Can mortal taint
Have power on thee unfearing
The woes our sight, our hearing,
Learn from Earth's crime and plaint?

Not as we see
Earth, sky, insensate forms, ourselves,
Thou seest,--but vision-free
Thy fancy soars and delves,
Albeit no sounds to us relate
The wondrous things
Thy brave imaginings
Within their starry night create.

Pity thy unconfined
Clear spirit, whose enfranchised eyes
Use not their grosser sense?
Ah, no! thy bright intelligence
Hath its own Paradise,
A realm wherein to hear and see
Things hidden from our kind.
Not thou, not thou--'t is we
Are deaf, are dumb, are blind!

Edmund Clarence Stedman

Salem
A. D. 1692

SOE, Mistress Anne, faire neighbour myne,
How rides a witche when nighte-winds blowe?
Folk saye that you are none too goode
To joyne the crewe in Salem woode,
When one you wot of gives the signe:
Righte well, methinks, the pathe you knowe.

In Meetinge-time I watched you well,
Whiles godly Master Parris prayed:
Your folded hands laye on your booke;
But Richard answered to a looke
That fain would tempt him unto hell,
Where, Mistress Anne, your place is made.

You looke into my Richard's eyes
With evill glances shamelesse growne;
I found about his wriste a hair,
And guesse what fingers tyed it there:
He shall not lightly be your prize--
Your Master firste shall take his owne.

'T is not in nature he should be
(Who loved me soe when Springe was greene)
A childe, to hange upon your gowne!
He loved me well in Salem Towne
Until this wanton witcherie
His hearte and myne crept dark betweene.

Last Sabbath nighte, the gossips saye,
Your goodman missed you from his side.
He had no strength to move, untill
Agen, as if in slumber still,
Beside him at the dawne you laye.
Tell, nowe, what meanwhile did betide.

Dame Anne, mye hate goe with you fleete
As driftes the Bay fogg overhead--
Or over yonder hill-topp, where
There is a tree ripe fruite shall bear
When, neighbour myne, your wicked feet
The stones of Gallowes Hill shall tread.

Edmund Clarence Stedman

The World Well Lost

THAT year? Yes, doubtless I remember still,--
Though why take count of every wind that blows!
'T was plain, men said, that Fortune used me ill
That year,--the self-same year I met with Rose.

Crops failed; wealth took a flight; house, treasure, land,
Slipped from my hold--thus plenty comes and goes.
One friend I had, but he too loosed his hand
(Or was it I?) the year I met with Rose.

There was a war, I think; some rumor, too,
Of famine, pestilence, fire, deluge, snows;
Things went awry. My rivals, straight in view,
Throve, spite of all; but I,--I met with Rose.

That year my white-faced Alma pined and died:
Some trouble vexed her quiet heart,--who knows?
Not I, who scarcely missed her from my side,
Or aught else gone, the year I met with Rose.

Was there no more? Yes, that year life began:
All life before a dream, false joys, light woes,--
All after-life compressed within the span
Of that one year,--the year I met with Rose!

Edmund Clarence Stedman

The Discoverer

I HAVE a little kinsman
Whose earthly summers are but three,
And yet a voyager is he
Greater than Drake or Frobisher,
Than all their peers together!
He is a brave discoverer,
And, far beyond the tether
Of them who seek the frozen Pole,
Has sailed where the noiseless surges roll.
Ay, he has travelled whither
A winged pilot steered his bark
Through the portals of the dark,
Past hoary Mimir's well and tree,
     Across the unknown sea.

Suddenly, in his fair young hour,
Came one who bore a flower,
And laid it in his dimpled hand
     With this command:
"Henceforth thou art a rover!
Thou must make a voyage far
Sail beneath the evening star,
And a wondrous land discover."
--With his sweet smile innocent
     Our little kinsman went.

Since that time no word
From the absent has been heard.
     Who can tell
How he fares, or answer well
What the little one has found
Since he left us, outward bound?
Would that he might return!
Then we should learn
By the pricking of his chart
How the skyey roadways part.
Hush! does not the baby this way bring,
To lay beside this severed curl,
     Some starry offering
Of chrysolite or pearl?

     Ah, no! not so!
We may follow on his track,
     But he comes not back.
     And yet I dare aver
He is a brave discoverer
Of climes his elders do not know.
He has more learning than appears
On the scroll of twice three thousand years,
More than in the groves is taught,
Or from furthest Indies brought;
He knows, perchance, how spirits fare,--
What shapes the angels wear,
What is their guise and speech
In those lands beyond our reach,--
     And his eyes behold
Things that shall never, never be to mortal hearers told.

thanx FG

Gee-Z said:

Lg abbhi mai na un k love letters nahi post kar diya
agger woh kar dayta tou tum hans hans k paghal ho jati

LOL!!!..awww..

nice

~CHANDNI~ said:

London_Girl said:

wow

shahrukh khan said:

London_Girl said:

youtube main movie ka name type karo

LOL!!!.. u got to proove that you're alwayz right na

good to know!.. yup i know this movie too

ok guyz.. shhhhh

cutefriend said:

kabbab main hadi hmmmmmmm

jesye ab chulbuli ban rahi hai .. free ka panga ker rahi hia lolzzzzz(sorry chulbuli jst kdng)
yan lg a jati hia chulbuli ki side lenye     

ab tu samjh lag gaye ho gi

LG to wahan wahan aegi jahan per CF kisi ko tung kerne ae ga

LOL!!!

~CHANDNI~ said:

cf   zara   ana samnay

working

ajj dil me hae key chandni ko aik sweet sa txt karon

~CHANDNI~ said:

Rehan M Din said:

Q ghusa kar'ing?

CONGRATZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.. ITS SUCH A GOOD FEELING TO BECOME A KHALA JAAN OR PHUPO JAAN, ISNT IT???.. I KNOW





chandni @ baby

boootipoooollllll

immaturity