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The present full series of The House of Life consists of sonnets only. It will be evident that many among those now first added are still the work of earlier years. Printer: Hazell, Watson, and Viney, Ld. Editorial Description: Pencil note in upper left corner, in cursive script. Note: blank page. Editorial Description: Pencil note in upper right corner. Manuscript Addition: Charles H. Editorial Description: Blank ink note in upper right corner, in cursive script.

The most adequate mode of prefacing the Collected Works of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, as of most authors, would probably be to offer a broad general view of his writings, and to analyse with some critical precision his relation to other writers, contemporary or otherwise, and the merits and defects of his performances. In this case, as in how few others, one would also have to consider in what degree his mind worked con- sentaneously or diversely in two several arts—the art of poetry and the art of painting.

But the hand of a brother is not the fittest to undertake any work of this scope. My preface will not therefore deal with themes such as these, but will be confined to minor matters, which may nevertheless be relevant also within their limits. And first may come a very brief outline of the few events of an outwardly uneventful life. Gabriel Charles Dante Rossetti, who, at an early stage of his professional career, modified his name into Dante Gabriel Rossetti, was born on 12th May , at No. In blood he was three-fourths Italian, and only one-fourth Eng- lish; being on the father's side wholly Italian Abruzzese , and on the mother's side half Italian Tuscan and half English.

His father was Gabriele Rossetti, born in at Vasto, in the Abruzzi, Adriatic coast, in the then kingdom of Naples. Gabriele Rossetti died was page: xvi. In , during his married life, he published his volume of translations The Early Italian Poets , now entitled Dante and his Circle. By the time therefore of the death of his wife he had a certain restricted yet far from inconsiderable reputation as a poet, along with his recognized position as a painter—a non-exhibiting painter, it may here be observed, for, after the first two or three years of his professional course, he ad- hered with practical uniformity to the plan of abstaining from exhibition altogether.

He had contemplated bring- ing out in or about a volume of original poems; but, in the grief and dismay which overwhelmed him in losing his wife, he determined to sacri- fice to her memory this long-cherished project, and he buried in her coffin the manuscripts which would have furnished forth the volume. With the lapse of years he came to see that, as a final settlement of the matter, this was neither obligatory nor desirable; so in the page: xix.

Few brothers were more constantly together, or shared one another's feelings and thoughts more intimately, in childhood, boyhood, and well on into mature manhood, than Dante Gabriel and myself. I have no idea of limning his character here at any length, but will de- fine a few of its leading traits. He was always and essentially of a dominant turn, in intellect and in temperament a leader. He was impetuous and vehe- ment, and necessarily therefore impatient; easily angered, easily appeased, although the embittered feelings of his later years obscured this amiable quality to some extent; constant and helpful as a friend where page: xxi.

Of his manner I can perhaps convey but a vague impression. I have said that it was natural; it was likewise eminently easy, and even of the free-and-easy kind. There was a certain British bluffness, streaking the finely poised Italian suppleness and facility. As he was thoroughly unconventional, caring not at all to page: xxii. The appearance of my brother was to my eye rather Italian than English, though I have more than once heard it said that there was nothing observable to bespeak foreign blood.

He was of rather low middle stature, say five feet seven and a half, like our father; and, as the years advanced, he resembled our father not a little in a characteristic way, yet with highly obvious divergences. Meagre in youth, he was at times decidedly fat in mature age. The complexion, clear and warm, was also dark, but not dusky or sombre.

The hair was dark and somewhat silky; the brow grandly spacious and solid; the full-sized eyes blueish-grey; the nose shapely, decided, and rather projecting, with an aquiline tendency and large nostrils, and perhaps no detail in the face was more noticeable at a first glance than the very strong indentation at the spring of the nose below the forehead; the mouth moderately well- shaped, but with a rather thick and unmoulded under- page: xxiii.

My brother was very little of a traveller; he disliked the interruption of his ordinary habits of life, and the flurry or discomfort, involved in locomotion. In boy- hood he knew Boulogne: he was in Paris three or four times, and twice visited some principal cities of Belgium. This was the whole extent of his foreign travelling. From page: xxiv. From an early period of life he had a large circle of friends, and could always have commanded any amount of intercourse with any number of ardent or kindly well-wishers, had he but felt elasticity and cheerfulness of mind enough for the purpose.

I should do injustice to my own feelings if I were not to mention here some of his leading friends. First and foremost I name Mr. Madox Brown, his chief intimate throughout life, on the unexhausted resources of whose affection and con- verse he drew incessantly for long years; they were at last separated by the removal of Mr. Brown to Man- chester, for the purpose of painting the Town Hall frescoes. William Bell Scott was, like Mr. Brown, a close friend from a very early period until the last; Scott being both poet and painter, there was a strict bond of affinity between him and Rossetti.

Ruskin was extremely intimate with my brother from till about , and was of material help to his professional career. As he rose towards celebrity, Rossetti knew Burne Jones, and through him Morris and Swinburne, all staunch and fervently sympathetic friends. Shields was a rather later acquaintance, who soon became an intimate, equally respected and cherished.

Then Mr. Hueffer the musical critic now page: xxv. Before proceeding to some brief account of the sequence, etc. I remember feeling like I lost all hope. I remember giving up my body for the next bag of dope. I remember only causing pain, destruction and harm. I remember the track marks the needles left on my arm. I remember watching the slow break up of my home. I remember thinking my family would be better off if I just left them alone. I remember looking in the mirror at my sickly completion.

I remember not recognizing myself in my own Damn reflection. I will not cast the first stone I have none in my hand Even though your life at times Was not how I had planned. When you are a boy I dreamed Of the man you would become But life had other plans for you With challenges more than one. Life gave you many challenges Too many to be fair I only wish in all those times I could have been right there. You look for a solution to try and give you hope. Hiding in a bottle, is such a lonely place, waking up hungover with the day ahead to face.

I played the cards held badly, and there was no turning back. I have much guilt inside of me, for the suffering I have brought, People did their best for me and solutions they have sought. So, I hope I leave a message, a lesson I can send, I knew where I was heading; soon coming to an end. No one could have stopped me, no guilt for you to bear, And it did bring me some comfort, to know that you were there. I have spent the night in the watchhouse — My head was the size of three — So I went and asked the chemist To fix up a drink for me; And he brewed it from various bottles With soda and plenty of ice, With something that smelt like lemon, And something that seemed like spice.

I have been on the razzle-dazzle Full many a time since then I never could get the chemist To brew that drink again. They are not the same. I was 25, you were only All I could do was stand there. Then I realized those screams I was hearing were coming from me. Now we have to try and live without you. We love and miss you more than you will ever know. I hope you are happy now, if only you could let us know. We will never let you go from our hearts and soul. One day we will be together again, our family, whole.

I came to this country without getting caught And since that day, have been hunted and sought Whole nations have gathered to plot my destruction They call me the breeder of crime and corruption. I am more potent than whisky, more deadly than wine, Yes, I am the scourge of all mankind. My little white grains are nothing but waste, I am soft and fluffy yet bitter to taste. In plastic bags I make my way To men in offices and children at play, From Leaders of States to the lowest of bum, From the richest estate to the lowest of scum.

I can make you steal, lie, borrow or beg. Then search for a vein in your arm or your leg. My gift is illusion, my blessing is fake. Only heartbreak and death follow my wake. I am the kiss of death to all I touch. I start as a gift but end up a crutch. Put your foot in the stirrups, mount this great steed, Get right in the saddle, hold on real well For this white horse heroin only takes you to hell.

An angel lived among us, A gift from God above. She showered us with kindness And shared with us her love. She cherished every moment With the man who was her life; Walking hand in hand together, Facing life with all its strife. She loved her children dearly, Each one a different way, Nestled close within her heart. When I have no one to turn to And I am feeling kind of low, When there is no one to talk to And nowhere I want to go, I search deep within myself It is the love inside my heart That lets me know my Angels are there Even though we are miles apart. A smile then appears upon my face And the sun begins to shine.

They will always stand behind you And will always be your friend. Through darkest hours and brightest days Our Angels see us through They smile when we are happy, and will cry when we are blue. I prayed for Angels to guard you night and day. I prayed they would hover and keep harm away. If you hear the swish of wings or feel a gentle touch. I will be okay. I want you to be happy and try to stay strong. It was just my time, but I will see you someday on the other side. I am not alone. The angels are with me to welcome me home. All my pain is gone, and Jesus took my tears. This is not the end.

We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of loneliness until love leaves its high holy temple and comes into our sight to liberate us into life. Love arrives and in its train come ecstasies old memories of pleasure ancient histories of pain. Yet if we are bold, love strikes away the chains of fear from our souls.

Yet it is only love which sets us free. I love this Land Australia of gum and wattle tree This vast and sunlit Continent is home from home for me And though I come from a distant Land when I have had my day Than underneath Australian soil where better place to lay.

I love this Land Australia of sunshine and bird song And with each passing day my love for this great Country grow more strong And though I come from a distant Land when I have had my day Than underneath Australian soil where better place to lay. The love of field and coppice, of green and shaded lanes, Of ordered woods and gardens is running in your veins. Strong love of grey-blue distance, brown streams and soft, dim skies- I know but cannot share it, my love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country, a land of sweeping plains, Of ragged mountain ranges, of droughts and flooding rains. I love her far horizons, I love her jewel-sea, Her beauty and her terror- the wide brown land for me! The stark white ring-barked forests, all tragic to the moon, The sapphire-misted mountains, the hot gold hush of noon, Green tangle of the brushes where lithe lianas coil, And orchids deck the tree-tops, and ferns the warm dark soil.

Core of my heart, my country! Her pitiless blue sky, When, sick at heart, around us we see the cattle die — But then the grey clouds gather, and we can bless again The drumming of an army, the steady soaking rain. Land of the rainbow gold, For flood and fire and famine she pays us back threefold. Over the thirsty paddocks, watch, after many days, The filmy veil of greenness that thickens as we gaze.

11 Memorable Poems About Peace

An opal-hearted country, a wilful, lavish land — All you who have not loved her, you will not understand — Though earth holds many splendours, wherever I may die, I know to what brown country my homing thoughts will fly. Time is a traveller Tenterfield saddler Turn your head Right again jackaroo, think I see kangaroo up ahead.

Time is a traveler Tenterfield saddler Turn your head Right again jackaroo, think I see kangaroo up ahead. Instead, did I witness the rainbows on rainy days I flew. The hours logged, the status reached, the ratings will not matter. Or what about the droplets clear, that spread across my screen? And the twinkling eyes of student pilots keen? How fast, how far, how much, how high? But did I take the time to watch the moonbeams wash my wings? And did I see the patchwork fields the mirrored lakes below? Or the mountains high and velvet hills?

Of these did I behold? And when the goals are reached at last. I had some fun. So when these things are asked of me, and I can reach no higher.


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My prayer this day with hands extended, please welcome home this Flyer. A place where a guy can buy a cold beer For a friend and a comrade, whose memory is dear, A place where no doctor or lawyer can tread, Nor a management clone would ere be caught dead, Just a quaint little place where a lady could go And be safe and protected by the men she would know.

For this is the place where the true flyers come When their journey is over and the war has been won. I have seen the birth of dawn and the sunset die And rode my steed, the thunder; across the sky. I have lived among the towering heights and known a thousand; Nay a million endless, wondrous delights. And beyond the swirling mists on high I have rolled and zoomed far above enveloped in the golden glory of my one, my love.

Dreams within you take flight Embraced with the wingspan To wander the high skies And deliver messages of love Shower from high above Stars that you have plucked Glittering with your generosity. I have come to accept the feeling of not knowing where I am going. And I have trained myself to love it. Because it is only when we are suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight, that we force our wings to unravel and alas begin our flight. And as we fly, we still may not know where we are going to.

But the miracle is in the unfolding of the wings. A baby will make love stronger Days shorter, Nights longer, Bankroll smaller, Clothes shabbier, The past forgotten, And the future worth living for. We wish you a childhood full of fun and games And we wish you memories that have little pain. We wish you to learn by making mistakes.

We wish you to love and never to hate. We wish you the strength to make up your own mind But we wish that your heart will be gentle and kind. We wish your life brings you some ups and some downs. Only to find no replacement for true love and happiness. We wish life will teach you to stand on your own. We wish you success in all that you do. And we hope that all your dreams will come true. There are little eyes upon you, And they are watching night and day; There are little ears that quickly Take in every word you say. A precious angel slipped away, no one heard a cry.

No time for Dad and Mommy to sing me lullabies.

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My time with you was much too short. It wove its way within our hearts, in all our hopes and dreams, Until the very purest love became my tiny wings.

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As dark clouds that surround you give way unto the sun, My precious parents you will see that any heart will sing, If only for a moment it is brushed by angel wings. Slumber sweetly little one Upon your dusty bed. The earth be both your blanket And pillow for your head. When the long, dark night is over And heaven begins its reign I promise you my darling I will see you again. Lord God, ever caring and gentle We commit to your love this little one, Quickened to life for so short a time. Enfold him in eternal life. We pray for his parents Who are saddened by the loss of their child.

Give them courage And help them in their pain and grief. May they all meet one day In the joy and peace of your Kingdom. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Your fingerprints are on my heart. Fingerprints that teach me about caring. Fingerprints that teach me about love. Fingerprints that teach me about courage. Fingerprints that teach me about hope. Fingerprints that bring me closer to my loved ones. Fingerprints that bring me closer to myself. In the time I cared for you my whole life changed — never to be the same again All this from tiny fingerprints that touch my heart.

You will live in my heart forever — never to be forgotten. I will always love you. You are my child. My little one, you filled my world, Heaven sent to me a sunbeam in a darkened room. A gift from God to see Your smile, so sweet and tender You touched my very soul You helped me grow, strong and tall That was your little role.

You had to go, your time was right, cold emptiness you leave A life so short, so pure, so loved, hearts you touched — now grieve. I want you to be happy. I want you to have the type of friendship that is a treasure — and the kind of love that is beautiful forever. I want you to have hopes and have them all come true. I want you to have a real understanding of how unique and rare you truly are. May the words you listen to say the things you need to hear. I wish you the insight to see your inner and outer beauty. I wish you sweet dreams.

I wish I could find a way to tell you — in untold ways — how important you are to me. I loved you from the very start, You stole my breath, embraced my heart. As mother with child, each day I grew, My mind was filled with thoughts of you. When I first saw your precious face, I prayed your life be touched with grace. I thanked the angels from above, And promised you unending love. Each night I lay you down to sleep, I gently kiss your head and cheek. I count your little fingers and toes; I memorize your eyes and nose.

I linger at your nursery door, And each day I love you more. And when I start yelling and shouting, Mum knows that she has to be quick For the night when she leaves me to grizzle, is the night I decide to be sick. Some nights she mixes a cocktail, from the bottles she keeps on the shelf, Which sometimes she gives me to swallow — and sometimes she gulps down herself!

So enchanted with you were the wind and the rain That they whispered the sound of your wonderful name. It sailed through the farmland High on the breeze… Over the ocean… And through the trees… Until everyone heard it And everyone knew Of the one and only ever you. Not once had there been such eyes, Such a nose, Such silly, wiggly, wonderful toes. When the polar bears heard, They danced until dawn.

From faraway places, The geese flew home. The moon stayed up until Morning next day. And none of the ladybugs flew away. So whenever you doubt just how special you are And you wonder who loves you, how much and how far, Listen for geese honking high in the sky. Or notice the bears asleep at the zoo. Or drift off to sleep to the sound of the wind.

Our time was so limited And with so much pain For as I was holding you Only your body remained. You left us at birth In more ways than one To join our maker little angel For he needed another one. Your name stands for sunshine And that is what you are For every time the sun shines You will not be far.

I carried you in hope for many months, Remembered that close hour when we made you. Often felt you kick and move, as you slowly grew within me. Wondered what you would look like when your wet head emerged, Girl or boy, and what glad moment I should hear your birth cry. You came; you did not cry. You did not breathe. They will say you did not live, but you lived for us all of the time. We shall carry you with us forever. Our child, you were always ours, you are ours now.

Death and life are the same mysteries. I carried you in hope, the long nine months of my term, remembered that close hour when we made you, often felt you kick and move as slowly you grew within me, wondered what you would look like when your wet head emerged, girl or boy, and at what glad moment I should hear your birth cry, and I welcoming you with all you needed of warmth and food; we had a home waiting for you. After my strong labourings, sweat cooled on my limbs, my small cries merging with the summer air, you came. You did not cry. We had not expected this; it seems your birth had no meaning, Or had you rejected us?

They will say that you did not live, register you as stillborn. Sweet Baby Girl Boy in heaven above, God sent you to us with much love, Not knowing what pain it would cause. I deal with it just because. Oh, my sweet girl boy , Look down on me, Take this pain and set me free. I long to see you in the future, To hold you and kiss you, And show you I really missed you. The miracle is that this brief time with us was for the creation of love.

Our pain in letting go is the honouring of the love which began in us and which is now carried forth into all the winds of the skies and the tides of the seas, into the shining of the sun and the gentle light of the moon. To be on hand when I arrived, In this confusing world. Nor did I expect a doctor; To hold me by the feet, Then quickly turn me upside down, And spank me on the seat. But soon I learned to get my way, By looking sweet and shy, And when I wanted to be held, To make a fuss and cry.

To wrap them round my finger; All I need to do is smile. Wishing you many smiles and happy times to come. Oh, a terrible place is a pub without beer. And if taking it to someone will make you a queer, Just relax and grab a beer. There are times when you feel so lonely. Problems come again and again slowly. Think that the end of the road is near, So, just relax and grab a beer. Old Billy, the blacksmith, the first time in his life Has gone home cold sober to his darling wife He walks in the kitchen: she says:.

Our lager, which art in barrels, Hallowed be Thy drink, Thy will be drunk, I will be drunk , At home as I am in the tavern. Give us this day our foamy head, And forgive us our spillages, As we forgive those who spill against us, And lead us not to incarceration, But deliver us from hangovers, For thine is the beer, The bitter and the lager, Forever and ever, Barmen. Blessed are we all to live in a time when the love of Craft beer exceeds that for wine. Hops, malt and barley all now rule the day When brewed up together in a nice I.

Who cares if some hipsters choose to babble away about hints of oak in some obscure Chardonnay. The vast choice of beers would astound those old timers! He musters me down lucerne flats, And feeds me there all week. Even when the droughts are bad, And I cross the desert of death, God is close beside me, So close I can feel his breath. God is the one who holds the map, That gives me my direction. God serves up a barbecue, Of beautiful T-bone steaks! Brothers and sisters: Those who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us.

For creation awaits with eager expectation the revelation of the children of God; for creation was made subject to futility, not of its own accord but because of the one who subjected it, in hope that creation itself would be set free from slavery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that all creation is groaning in labour pains even until now; and not only that, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, we also groan within ourselves as we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.

Love is patient and kind, Love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way, it is not irritable or resentful, it does not rejoice in wrong, But rejoices in right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. Love never ends. Faith, hope, love, abide these three, but the greatest of these is love. Brothers and sisters: Strive eagerly for the greatest spiritual gifts.

But I shall show you a still more excellent way. If I speak in human and angelic tongues but do not have love, I am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal. And if I have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge; if I have all faith so as to move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away everything I own, and if I hand my body over so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails. If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.

If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.

For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child; I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.

Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died. For since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead has also come through a human being; for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ.

But each in his own order: Christ the first fruits, then at his coming those who belong to Christ. Then comes the end, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father, after he has destroyed every ruler and every authority and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet.

The last enemy to be destroyed is death. With what kind of body do they come? What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. And as for what you sow, you do not sow the body that is to be, but a bare seed, perhaps of wheat or of some other grain. But God gives it a body as he has chosen, and to each kind of seed its own body. So it is with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonour, it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power. It is sown a physical body, it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a physical body, there is also a spiritual body.

Where, O death, is your sting? But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved, be steadfast, immovable, always excelling in the work of the Lord, because you know that in the Lord your labour is not in vain. For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.

Believe in God, believe also in me. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going. How can we know the way? No one comes to the Father except through me. Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope.

We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first.

After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage each other with these words. From now on, you do know him and have seen him.

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Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. The words I say to you I do not speak on my own authority. Rather, it is the Father, living in me, who is doing his work. Lord make me an instrument of Your peace Where there is hatred, let me sow love, Where there is injury, pardon Where there is doubt, faith, Where there is despair, hope, Where there is darkness, light, and where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console; To be understood, as to understand; To be loved, as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; It is in pardoning that we are pardoned; And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Lord grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change things I can the, and the wisdom to know the difference. He leadeth me beside the still waters. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; My cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me All the days of my life; And I will dwell in the house of the Lord Forever. Take one small step of love, In faith, And leave a footprint To guide you tomorrow and the next…. Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.

He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life. Those who conquer will inherit these things, and I will be their God and they will be my children. The Father Revealed in the Son. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.

After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So his father went out and pleaded with him. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. And rumble off to clubhouse for A changing of the brew; Black vests in formation—fast and tight—a loud tribute.

Members of the Club stand post, Proud brothers in the wind; Shaded eyes the tears disguise, And loss they feel within. Friends and family pay respects To biker and his mate; Praises made and prayers raised, Blues legends resonate. Can you feel the wind in Heaven Can you hear me call your name Can you see the tears that fall This world wont ever be the same. Can you feel the wind in Heaven When we gather in our group Can you hear the sound of silence When we look where you once stood. Can you feel the wind in Heaven Can you hear the ladies cry Can you feel our broken hearts When we have to say goodbye.

I hope there is a Biker Heaven And we will meet again someday I hope to feel the wind in Heaven And shake your hand again that day. Biking oil was in their blood, Petrol flowing through their heart. The exhaust sounding rather rough, Its noise as cutting as a knife. The gallant spark not quite enough, To fire their engine into life.

The biker name has died but still, Their soul rides onward to the west. The sun forever shine On his weathered face, I know this friend of mine Is speeding to a better place. Its all about the journey Its the part that counts Even when he gets there He may just turn around. My big right hand, gloved and fisted, Feeling now, the throttle twisted, Crisp exhaust roar, sounding sweet, Drop the clutch, and hit the street, The revs rise sharply, grab next gear, Excitement tinged with hint of fear, Watch that tacho needle wind, All and sundry left behind,.

Throttle on, and forward blast, The next corner, looming fast, Leaning in hard, and tyres gripping, Miles behind me, quickly slipping, White posts like a picket fence, Concentration, full, intense. Bugs on visor, flatly splattered, Speed limits, completely shattered. Through the curves, around the ton, Down the last hill, over-run, City lights below are glowing, Common sense, bike is slowing, Reality, once more it bites, To draw me back from dizzy heights, Down the driveway, to home I glide, Wish my mate was by my side!

I twist the throttle with my palm and roar off down the street. The slapping of my leathers and raging winds on either side, drum a beat of sweet contentment as I ride this….. The speedometer is just a blur as tears blow from my eyes, the bike and I roll forward off into the calling skies. Bouquets of flowers, become a treasure trove Of puppy breath mornings, inhaled through the nose. Hours of riding make an aching butt scold, But — soft sensual pillowing never gets old,. As sweet thing, inclining, takes a tight hold, And heart pounding accelerating, Declares the adventurous soul bold!

Mother nature is boasting exhilarating forces. If I could travel on the wings of love Tonight, I would adorn with kisses My lovely misses, Then we would fly to the moon Where I would become your groom And you, my bride. Riding the wings of love In a race against light To touch first your cheeks, I would win by weeks; Falling in with my lips Into a perfect eclipse; Your celestial gaze Making merry my days,. Upon the wings of love, Upon the wings of love, Upon the wings of love, Fly with me! Fair, cold, and faithless wert thou, my own! For that I love Thy heart of stone!

From the heights above To the depths below, Where dread things move,. There is naught can show A life so trustless! Proud be thy crown! Ruthless, like none, save the Sea, alone! And pray that a wreath like a rainbow May slip from the beautiful past, And Crown me again with the sweet, strong love And keep me, and hold me fast. The light came through the window, Straight from the sun above, And so inside my little room There plunged the rays of Love. The daily actions of religious people have accomplished uncounted good deeds throughout history, alleviating suffering, feeding the hungry, caring for the sick.

Religions have brought the comfort of belonging and companionship to many who would otherwise have passed through this life all alone, without glory or adventure. They have not just provided first aid, in effect, for people in difficulties; they have provided the means for changing the world in ways that remove those difficulties. As Alan Wolfe says, "Religion can lead people out of cycles of poverty and dependency just as it led Moses out of Egypt".

There is much for religion lovers to be proud of in their traditions, and much for all of us to be grateful for. The fact that so many people love their religions as much as, or more than, anything else in their lives is a weighty fact indeed. I am inclined to think that nothing could matter more than what people love. At any rate, I can think of no value that I would place higher. I would not want to live in a world without love. Would a world with peace, but without love, be a better world? Not if the peace was achieved by drugging the love and hate out of us, or by suppression.

Would a world with justice and freedom, but without love, be a better world? Not if it was achieved by somehow turning us all into loveless law-abiders with none of the yearnings or envies or hatreds that are wellsprings of injustice and subjugation. It is hard to consider such hypotheticals, and I doubt if we should trust our first intuitions about them, but, for what it is worth, I surmise that we almost all want a world in which love, justice, freedom, and peace are all present, as much as possible, but if we had to give up one of these, it wouldn't — and shouldn't — be love.

But, sad to say, even if it is true that nothing could matter more than love, it wouldn't follow from this that we don't have reason to question the things that we, and others, love. Love is blind, as they say, and because love is blind, it often leads to tragedy: to conflicts in which one love is pitted against another love, and something has to give, with suffering guaranteed in any resolution. Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Give one another of your bread, but eat not from the same loaf.

Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. There's nothing you can do that can't be done Nothing you can sing that can't be sung Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game It's easy.

We all been playing those mind games forever Some kinda druid dudes lifting the veil.