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  #11  
Old 07-28-2009, 12:50 PM
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horatio horatio is offline
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Quote:
Originally Posted by NCC-73515 View Post
That's Mozart?!?!?!
Yep, just because they lived some centuries ago, they could still write something salty. A line from Hamlet (in a German translation to also circumvent censorship ): "Ihr würdet zu stöhnen haben, ehe Ihr meine Spitze abstumpftet".
Or read Romeo&Juliet, there are much more dirty jokes than love poetry in it.
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  #12  
Old 07-28-2009, 01:49 PM
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It matters not how strait the gate
how charged with punishments the scroll
I am the master of my fate
I am the captian of my soul

William Ernest Henley
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  #13  
Old 07-28-2009, 03:53 PM
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Young nymphomaniac Jill
Used a dynamite stick for a thrill
They found her vagina
In South Carolina
And bits of her tits in Brazil.

Can we say "vagina" here?
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  #14  
Old 07-28-2009, 08:13 PM
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I can't wait until they have poetry competitions on American Idol!

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  #15  
Old 07-28-2009, 09:27 PM
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"Lucy"
By William Wordsworth

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove;
A maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love.

A voilet lay by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and O,
The difference to me!

THE CONQUERED BANNER
by Abram Joseph Ryan
(1838-1886)

Furl that Banner, for 'tis weary;
Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary;
Furl it, fold it, it is best;
For there's not a man to wave it,
And there's not a sword to save it,
And there's no one left to lave it
In the blood that heroes gave it;
And its foes now scorn and brave it;
Furl it, hide it--let it rest!

Take that banner down! 'tis tattered;
Broken is its shaft and shattered;
And the valiant hosts are scattered
Over whom it floated high.
Oh! 'tis hard for us to fold it;
Hard to think there's none to hold it;
Hard that those who once unrolled it
Now must furl it with a sigh.

Furl that banner! furl it sadly!
Once ten thousands hailed it gladly.
And ten thousands wildly, madly,
Swore it should forever wave;
Swore that foeman's sword should never
Hearts like theirs entwined dissever,
Till that flag should float forever
O'er their freedom or their grave!

Furl it! for the hands that grasped it,
And the hearts that fondly clasped it,
Cold and dead are lying low;
And that Banner--it is trailing!
While around it sounds the wailing
Of its people in their woe.

For, though conquered, they adore it!
Love the cold, dead hands that bore it!
Weep for those who fell before it!
Pardon those who trailed and tore it!
But, oh! wildly they deplored it!
Now who furl and fold it so.

Furl that Banner! True, 'tis gory,
Yet 'tis wreathed around with glory,
And 'twill live in song and story,
Though its folds are in the dust;
For its fame on brightest pages,
Penned by poets and by sages,
Shall go sounding down the ages--
Furl its folds though now we must.

Furl that banner, softly, slowly!
Treat it gently--it is holy--
For it droops above the dead.
Touch it not--unfold it never,
Let it droop there, furled forever,
For its people's hopes are dead!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - Excelsior
The shades of night were falling fast,As through an Alpine village passedA youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice,A banner with the strange device,Excelsior!His brow was sad; his eye beneath,Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,And like a silver clarion rungThe accents of that unknown tongue,Excelsior!In happy homes he saw the lightOf household fires gleam warm and bright;Above, the spectral glaciers shone,And from his lips escaped a groan,Excelsior!"Try not the Pass!" the old man said:"Dark lowers the tempest overhead,The roaring torrent is deep and wide!And loud that clarion voice replied,Excelsior!"Oh stay," the maiden said, "and restThy weary head upon this breast!"A tear stood in his bright blue eye,But still he answered, with a sigh,Excelsior!"Beware the pine-tree's withered branch!Beware the awful avalanche!"This was the peasant's last Good-night,A voice replied, far up the height,Excelsior!At break of day, as heavenwardThe pious monks of Saint BernardUttered the oft-repeated prayer,A voice cried through the startled air,Excelsior!A traveller, by the faithful hound,Half-buried in the snow was found,Still grasping in his hand of iceThat banner with the strange device,Excelsior!There in the twilight cold and gray,Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,And from the sky, serene and far,A voice fell, like a falling star,Excelsior!
*
REQUIESCATby: Oscar Wilde
    • READ lightly, she is near Under the snow, Speak gently, she can hear The daisies grow. All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair Fallen to dust. Lily-like, white as snow, She hardly knew She was a woman, so Sweetly she grew. Coffin-board, heavy stone, Lie on her breast, I vex my heart alone, She is at rest. Peace, peace, she cannot hear Lyre or sonnet, All my life's buried here, Heap earth upon it.
*(I copied some of these off of various places on the net, because Iwanted to get them on here as quickly as possible, but they are all in the book. I think them to be very beautiful, I hope you like them as well.)are all in my book
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Last edited by MonsieurHood : 07-28-2009 at 09:32 PM.
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  #16  
Old 07-28-2009, 09:31 PM
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They are very nice, MonsieurHood, albeit, in all probability, too fragile for this modern world.

Long for past glories
Sheared' from time
Walk 'neath old stories
Well past their prime
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  #17  
Old 07-28-2009, 09:45 PM
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Here are a couple of the neat little quotations that I found to be entertaining:

"The tree of liberty only grows when watered by the blood of tyrants"
(From Bertrand Barere's speech in the Convention National, 1792)

*
ARABIAN PROVERB

He who knows not and knows not that he knows not, He is a fool-shun him;
He who knows not and knows that he knows not, He is simple-teach him;
He who knows and knows not that he knows, He is asleep-wake him;
He who knows and knows that he knows, He is wise-follow him.
*
THE MOURNING BRIDE
by William Congreve

Heaven hath no rage like love to hatred turned,
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
*
The Spartans do not enquire how many the enemy are, but where they are.
(-Agis II, 472 B.C.)
*
WHAT ONE MAY AND MAY NOT CALL A WOMAN
(anonymous)
You may call a woman a kitten, but you must not call her a cat.
You may call her a mouse, but you must not call her a rat.
You may call her a chicken, but you must not call her a hen.
You may call her a duck, but you must not call her a goose.
You may call her a vision, but you must not call her a sight.
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  #18  
Old 07-29-2009, 03:59 AM
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Longfellow is one of my favs!
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  #19  
Old 07-29-2009, 09:04 AM
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GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying :
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer ;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may go marry :
For having lost but once your prime
You may for ever tarry.
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  #20  
Old 07-29-2009, 09:19 AM
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Coolness!
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