The Passionate Shepherd to his Love

Come live with me and be my Love,

And we will all the pleasures prove

That hills and valleys, dale and field,

And all the craggy mountains yield.

There will we sit upon the rocks

And see the shepherds feed their flocks,

By shallow rivers, to whose falls

Melodious birds sing madrigals.

There will I make thee beds of roses

And a thousand fragrant posies,

A cap of flowers, and a kirtle

Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.

A gown made of the finest wool,

Which from our pretty lambs we pull,

Fair lined slippers for the cold,

With buckles of the purest gold.

A belt of straw and ivy buds

With coral clasps and amber studs:

And if these pleasures may thee move,

Come live with me and be my Love.

Thy silver dishes for thy meat

As precious as the gods do eat,

Shall on an ivory table be

Prepared each day for thee and me.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing

For they delight each May-morning:

If these delights thy mind may move,

Then live with me and be my Love.

                                                   +C. Marlowe

                                                                      (artist: Luigi Bechi)

I Walked a Mile with Pleasure...

I walked a mile with Pleasure;

She chatted all the way;

But left me none the wiser

For all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow, 

And ne'er a word said she;

But, oh! The things I learned from her, 

When Sorrow walked with me.

                                ~ Robert Browning Hamilton

buy the truth

"buy the truth and sell it not." ~ Proverbs 23:23

Go though, in life's fair morning,

Go, in the bloom of youth,

And buy, for thy adorning,

The precious pearl of truth.

Secure this heavenly treasure,

And bind it in thy heart,

and let not earthly pleasure

E'er cause it to depart.

Go, while the day-star shineth,

Go, while thy heart is light,

Go e'er thy strength declineth

while every sense is bright;

Sell all thou hast and buy it,

'tis worth all earthly things --

Rubies and gold, and diamonds,

scepters and crowns of kings.

                                 ANON

Hope is the Thing With Feathers

'Hope' is the thing with feathers -- 

That perches in the soul -- 

And sings the tune without the words---

And never stops--at all-- 

And sweetest--in the Gale-- is heard-- 

And sore must be the storm-- 

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm--

I've heard it in the chillest land-- 

And on the strangest Sea-- 

Yet, never, in Extremity,

It asked a crumb--of Me. 

~ Emily Dickinson

I'm Not Alone

I'm not alone, though others go,

A different way from what I chose;

I'm not alone, though I say "No!"

I know that I will never lose.

I'm not alone though others tease

And urge that I should go their way;

I'm not alone though I displease

My friends by what I'll never say.

I'm not alone, for I now choose-

Though other folks may call me odd,

Tho' now it seems that I might lose-

To go the way that Jesus trod.

                                                 L. E. Dunkin

The Ant and the Cricket

"Go to the ant, O sluggard,

Observe its ways and be wise,

Which, having no chief,

Officer or ruler,

Prepares her food in the summer

And gathers her provision in the harvest.

How long will you lie down, O sluggard?

When will you arise from your sleep?

'A little sleep, a little slumber, 

A little folding of the hands to rest'-

Your poverty will come in like a vagabond

And your need like an armed man."

— Proverbs 6:6-11

    

A silly young cricket, accustomed to sing

Through the warm, sunny months of gay summer and spring, 

Began to complain, when he found that at home 

His cupboard was empty and winter was come.

Not a crumb to be found 

On the snow-covered ground;

Not a flower could he see,

Not a leaf on a tree.

"Oh, what will become,"says the cricket, "of me?"

At last by starvation and famine made bold,

All dripping with wet and all trembling with cold,

Away he set off to a miserly ant

To see if, to keep him alive, he would grant 

him shelter from rain.

A mouthful of grain 

He wished only to borrow,

He'd repay it to-morrow;

If not helped he must die of starvation and sorrow.

Says the ant to the cricket: "I'm your servant and friend,

But we ants never borrow, we ants never lend.

Pray tell me, dear sir, did you lay nothing by

When the weather was warm?" Said the cricket,

"Not I.

My heart was so light

That I sang day ad night,

For all nature looked gay,"

"You sang, sir, you say? 

Go then," said the ant, "and sing winter away."

Thus ending, he hastily lifted the wicket

and out of the door turned the poor little cricket.

Though this is a fable, the moral is good-

If you live without work, you must live without food.

                                                                                         -Anonymous

The Spider and the Fly

Flattery means praising insincerely, not meaning it, so that the other person will like you.

"A lying tongue hateth those that are afflicted by it; and a flattering mouth worketh ruin." 

— Proverbs 26:28

"A man that flattereth his neighbor, spreadeth a net for his feet."

— Proverbs 29:5

"Will you walk into my parlour?" said the spider to the fly.

Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy.

The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,

And I've a many curious things to show you when you're there."

"Oh, no, no," said the little Fly, "To ask me is in vain,

For who goes up your winding stair, can ne'er come down again."

"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with souring up so high.

Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the spider to the fly.

"There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,

And if you like to rest a while, I'll snugly tuck you in!"

"Oh, no, no,"said the little fly, "For I've often heard it said, 

They never, never wake again who sleep upon your bed!"

Said the cunning spider to the fly; "Dear friend, what can I do 

To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?

I have within my pantry good store of all that's nice;

I'm sure you're very welcome - will you please to take a slice?"

"Oh, no, no,"said the little fly; "Kind sir that cannot be:

I've heard what's in you pantry, and I do not wish to see!"

"Sweet creature!"said the spider, "You're witty and you're wise; 

How handsome are your gauzy wings; how brilliant are your eyes!

I have a little looking glass upon my parlour shelf;

If you'd step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."

I thank you, gentle sir,"she said, "For what you're pleased to say, 

And, bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."

The spider turned him round about, and went into his den,

For well he knew the silly fly would soon come back again:

So he wove a subtle wed in a little corner sly,

And set his table ready to dine apron the fly;

Then came out to his door again and merrily did sing:

"Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with pearl and silver wing;

Your robes are green and purple; there's a crest upon your head;

Your eyes are like diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"

Alas, alas! How very soon this silly little fly,

Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;

With buzzing wings she hung aloft, than near and nearer grew,

Thinking only of her brilliant eyes and green and purple hue,

Thinking only of her crested head. Poor, foolish thing! At last

Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast;

He dragged her up his winding stair, into the dismal den - 

Within his little parlor - but she ne'er came out again!

And now, dear little children, who may this story read,

To idle, silly, flattering words I pray you ne'er give heed;

Unto an evil counselor close heart and ear and eye,

And take a lesson from this tale of the spider and the fly.

                                                                                  - Mary Howitt

The Butterfly and the Caterpillar

A butterfly, one summer morn,

Sat on a spray of a blossoming thorn

And, as he sipped and drank his share

Of honey from the flowered air,

Below, upon the garden wall,

A caterpillar chanced to crawl.

"Horrors!" The butterfly exclaimed,

"This must be stopped! I am ashamed

That each as I should have to be

In the same world with such as he.

Preserve me from such hideous things!

Disgusting shape! Were are his wings!

Fuzzy and gray! Eater of clay!

Won't someone take the worm away!"

The caterpillar hunched ahead,

But as he munched a leaf, he said,

"Eight days ago, young butterfly,

you wormed about, the same as I.

Within a fortnight from today

Two wings will bear me far away

To brighter blooms and lovelier lures,

With colors that out rival yours.

So, flutter-flit, be not so proud;

Each caterpillar is endowed

With power to make him, by and by,

A blithe and brilliant butterfly.

While you, who scorn the common clay,

You, in your livery so gay,

And all the gaudy moths, and millers,

Are only dressed up caterpillars"

                                                Joseph Lauren

Life's Clock

"See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools 

but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil." 

--Ephesians 5:15-16

The clock of life is wound but once,

And no man has the power

To tell just where the hands will stop--

At late or early hour.

To lose one's wealth is sad indeed,

To lose one's health is more,

To lose one's soul is such a loss

As no man can restore.

The present only is our own,

Live for Christ with a will;

Place no faith in tomorrow,

For the clock may then be still.

The Garden on the Sand

Once on a time some little hands 

Planted a garden on the sands;

And with a wish to keep it dry,

They raised a wall five inches high.

Within the wall and round the walks;

They made a fence of slender stalks;

And then they formed an arbour cool,

And dug in front a tiny pool.

Their beds were oval, round and square,

Thrown up and trimmed with decent care.

In these they planted laurel twigs,

And prickly holly, little springs

Of ash and poplar, and  for show,

Bright daffodils, and heart's ease low;

With pink-edged daisies by the score,

And buttercups and many more.

One rose they found with great delight,

And strack it in with all their might.

This finished, then they went away,

Resolved to come another day.

The sea, meanwhile, with solemn roar,

Approached and washed the sandy shore;

But all this time it did not touch

The little spot they loved so much;

And many strangers passing by,

The garden spied with smiling eye,

But no one ventured to disturb

A single plant, or flower, or herb.

Still, when the children came again, 

They found their labour all in vain;

The flowers were dropping side by side;

The rose and heart's ease-all had died;

No one could make them grow or shoot,

Because they had not got a root;

And then the soil it was so bed,

They must have withered if they had.

Now so it is that children fail,

Just like the garden in my tale;

They have good wishes, pleasant looks;

Are busy with their work and books;

Their conduct often gives delight,

And you may fancy all was right:

But by-and-by, with sad surprise,

We see how all this goodness dies;

Instead of being rich with fruit

They fade away for want of root.

Oh, pray, that He who only can

Renew the heart of fallen man,

May plant you in His pleasant ground,

Where trees of righteousness abound.

So, shall ye be, in early youth,

"Rooted and grounded in the truth!"

ANON

Life's Path

Many go down life's path with lofty plans

To amass a great fortune of houses and lands

And to live a life of pleasure and ease, 

Thinking happiness can be found in these.

Others pursue power and worldwide fame

To be known by all and win their acclaim.

But those without God who attain these goals

Soon find emptiness remains in their souls.

They could not find true happiness

For life's void cannot be filled with this.

If only they realized this will not last

Since life is fleeting and will soon be past.

Wealth, worldly pleasure, fame, and power

Will all be gone at death's dark hour.

And beyond the grave when eternity begins

Those unsaved will be judged for their sins!

If only they would believe in God's Son

And repent of the sinful deeds they've done,

Then they could go down life's path

Not needing to worry about God's wrath.

They would have the joy they longed for,

Inner peace, contentment, and much more

For when their lives on earth shall end

Heavenly bliss would at once begin!

— Perry Boardman