"soule" poems
Soule of my soule! my Joy, my crown, my friend!
A name which all the rest doth comprehend;
How happy are we now, whose sols are grown,
By an incomparable mixture, One:
Whose well acquainted minds are not as neare
As Love, or vows, or secrets can endeare.
I have no thought but what's to thee reveal'd,
Nor thou desire that is from me conceal'd.
Thy heart locks up my secrets richly set,
And my breast is thy private cabinet.
Thou shedst no teare but what but what my moisture lent,
And if I sigh, it is thy breath is spent.
United thus, what horrour can appeare
Worthy our sorrow, anger, or our feare?
Let the dull world alone to talk and fight
And with their vast ambitions nature fright;
Let them despise so innocent a flame,
While Envy, pride, and faction play their game:
But we by Love sublim'd so high shall rise,
To pitty Kings, and Conquerours despise,
Since we that sacred union have engrost,
Which they and all the sullen world have lost.
2.3k
I presse not to the Quire, nor dare I greet
The holy Place with my unhallow’d feet:
My unwasht Muse pollutes not things Divine,
Nor mingles her prophaner notes with thine;
Here, humbly at the Porch, she listning stayes,
And with glad eares ***** in thy Sacred Layes.
So, devout Penitents of old were wont,
Some without doore, and some beneath the Font,
To stand and heare the Churches Liturgies,
Yet not assist the solemne Exercise.
Sufficeth her, that she a Lay-place gaine,
To trim thy Vestments, or but beare thy traine:
Though nor in Tune, nor Wing, She reach thy Larke,
Her Lyricke feet may dance before the Arke.
Who knowes, but that Her wandring eyes, that run
Now hunting Glow-wormes, may adore the Sun.
A pure Flame may, shot by Almighty Power
Into my brest, the earthy flame devoure:
My Eyes, in Penitentiall dew may steepe
That bryne, which they for sensuall love did weepe:
So (though ‘gainst Natures course) fire may be quencht
With fire, and water be with water drencht.
Perhaps, my restlesse Soule, tyr’d with pursuit
Of mortall beautie, seeking without fruit
Contentment there; which hath not, when enjoy’d,
Quencht all her thirst, nor satisfi’d, though cloy’d;
Weary of her vaine search below, above
In the first Faire may find th’ immortall Love.
Prompted by thy Example then, no more
In moulds of Clay will I my God adore;
But teare those Idols from my Heart, and Write
What his blest Sp’rit, not fond Love, shall endite.
Then, I no more shall court the Verdant Bay,
But the dry leavelesse Trunk on Golgotha:
And rather strive to gaine from thence one Thorne,
Then all the flourishing Wreathes by Laureats worne.
2.3k
Being The Shortest Day
’Tis the yeares midnight, and it is the dayes,
Lucies, who scarce seaven houres herself unmaskes,
The Sunne is spent, and now his flasks
Send forth light squibs, no constant rayes;
The worlds whole sap is sunke:
The generall balme th’ hydroptique earth hath drunk,
Whither, as to the beds-feet, life is shrunk,
Dead and interr’d; yet all these seem to laugh,
Compar’d with mee, who am their Epitaph.
Study me then, you who shall lovers bee
At the next world, that is, at the next Spring:
For I am every dead thing,
In whom love wrought new Alchimie.
For his art did expresse
A quintessence even from nothingnesse,
From dull privations, and leane emptinesse:
He ruin’d mee, and I am re-begot
Of absence, darknesse, death—things which are not.
All others, from all things, draw all that’s good,
Life, soule, forme, spirit, whence they beeing have;
I, by loves limbecke, am the grave
Of all, that’s nothing. Oft a flood
Have wee two wept, and so
Drownd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow
To be two Chaosses, when we did show
Care to ought else; and often absences
Withdrew our soules, and made us carcasses.
But I am by her death—which word wrongs her—
Of the first nothing, the Elixer grown;
Were I a man, that I were one,
I needs must know; I should preferre,
If I were any beast,
Some ends, some means; Yea plants, yea stones detest,
And love; All, all some properties invest;
If I an ordinary nothing were,
As shadow, a light, and body must be here.
But I am None; nor will my Sunne renew.
You lovers, for whose sake, the lesser Sunne
At this time to the Goat is runne
To fetch new lust, and give it you,
Enjoy your summer all;
Since shee enjoyes her long nights festivall,
Let mee prepare towards her, and let mee call
This houre her Vigill, and her Eve, since this
Bothe the yeares, and the dayes deep midnight is.
1.8k
Let mans Soule be a Spheare, and then, in this,
The intelligence that moves, devotion is,
And as the other Spheares, by being growne
Subject to forraigne motion, lose their owne,
And being by others hurried every day,
Scarce in a yeare their naturall forme obey:
Pleasure or businesse, so, our Soules admit
For their first mover, and are whirld by it.
Hence is't, that I am carryed towards the West
This day, when my Soules forme bends toward the East.
There I should see a Sunne, by rising set,
And by that setting endlesse day beget;
But that Christ on this Crosse, did rise and fall,
Sinne had eternally benighted all.
Yet dare I'almost be glad, I do not see
That spectacle of too much weight for mee.
What a death were it then to see God dye?
It made his owne Lieutenant Nature shrinke,
It made his footstoole crack, and the Sunne winke.
Could I behold those hands which span the Poles,
And tune all spheares at once peirc'd with those holes?
Could I behold that endlesse height which is
Zenith to us, and our Antipodes,
Humbled below us? or that blood which is
The seat of all our Soules, if not of his,
Made durt of dust, or that flesh which was worne
By God, for his apparell, rag'd, and torne?
If on these things I durst not looke, durst I
Upon his miserable mother cast mine eye,
Who was Gods partner here, and furnish'd thus
Halfe of that Sacrifice, which ransom'd us?
Though these things, as I ride, be from mine eye,
They'are present yet unto my memory,
For that looks towards them; and thou look'st towards mee,
O Saviour, as thou hang'st upon the tree;
I turne my backe to thee, but to receive
Corrections, till thy mercies bid thee leave.
O thinke mee worth thine anger, punish mee,
Burne off my rusts, and my deformity,
Restore thine Image, so much, by thy grace,
That thou may'st know mee, and I'll turne my face.
1.8k
I don't see how u can talk to someone off and on for over2 yrs and follow their every keystroke and see what and who they talk to and listen to them thru the speakers on the computer and if I didn't cover the camera would be able to see us also.....and then see theyre on a dating site and either u had a profile already or made one up to meet me. That is a lot of following and listening and reading their online happenings...only to meet them from the dating site. Which how u even knew that id date you is odd unless u were just hoping. I realized that when my brother died last year.....that was you I was talking to wasn't it??? Do you know how special that is to me and my heart? I didn't have anyone to help ,me thru that and you were there. I wanted to thank you so very much. I don't see how u can do all these tracings of my actions and talk to me at the most horrific time of my life thus far and then not tell me that its you..... I will never under stand why u didn't tell me.... I so wished you would have *** the things would have turned out so much different. I just thought u were some dude who was a cheating pig....and wasn't thinking too serious about anythg *** I knew u wont leave "her". that's why I never asked u too and or even brought it up *** ive seen the shows where they say they'll leave but never do so why ask? but if id had known u were frozen heart and soule shawn I would have looked at things differently. I would have taken things and rearranged them to fit into my life better. I owe the person or man who talked to me and helped me get thru each day when john died a lot..... *** If it wasn't for u I don't think id been ok. Also If id known you were the holder of my heart and would have told me things instead of not saying much....it would have ended up in the way u wanted it to be. Not this way where I will be sad and ****** yet upset for not knowing u were the one who makes me happy *** to me you are perfect and perfect for me as well... God I miss u more then u will ever know,,, I wish I could hug and kiss u.... and sit and talk ....but its not gonna happen and it just makes me want to cry but I keep getting headaches when I cry....so I don't like to.... Im so grateful that I was with u for the year and a half we spent together.....wish it would have lasted for ever though instead...cus I wont ever stop wanting u....ILY!!!
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 5:41 AM UTC
Quhat doe yowe call a king that's first and sixt?
Yow call him Gods appointed King; King James;
The King of Ireland, Scotland, and England, mixt;
The King of riuers Shannon, Tay, and Thames.
God saue the King, the faithfull King who claimes
For Christ the King the Ingliche written word
And lifts the name aboue all other names
VVho is the Lord of euery other lord.
The King of kings, the word that's als a sword
Diuiding soule from spirite as flesh from bone,
Hath made himselfe with James of one accord
And plac'd the monarch James upon his throne.
The booke of James by God is avthoriz'd
And hath no neede to euer be reviz'd.
Apr 22, 2024
Apr 22, 2024 at 2:10 PM UTC
They only come every once in awhile
People you can stand beside and call brothers
No matter if you share the same mother
Cause being orthodox just isn't my style
I got more then enough friends
But I have the perfect amount of soule brothers
Keeping it together, always and forever
On the field and always off
When sometimes sticks around after years go by
You know they're gonna be there when you die
Cause you expect the same
Cause to you and I they're more then a name
First grade all the way to graduation
Patriots fans and a part of Sox nation
Titletown is from where we reign
Come on and fight through the pain
I got more then enough friends
But the perfect amount of soule brothers
Keeping it together, always and forever
On the field and always off.
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 10:03 PM UTC
With coarsest sackecloth cloathe my naked soule;
Construct for me a throne of ashes blacke;
Place on my lying lipps a liuing coal;
Cast me asea inside a sackcloth sacke;
I am a rocke of great offence, a rocke
As stonie-hearted as a stvmbling blocke.
Not any man hath greater loue than this,
That hee should for his friend laye downe his life;
But I betray'd my friend without a kisse
And stabb'd into his backe a butter knife;
And hee who loues his life his life shall lose,
And I, by loving life, my death did chuse.
Mar 26, 2024
Mar 26, 2024 at 12:24 PM UTC
Greate is thy Sin, since Sin is never Small:
And Monstrous Moles of Sin Call home thy Soule.
About their Mountainous Molehills they do Crawle.
Play thou (and win) a Game of Whacke-a-Mole.
Unto the Moles be Deadly as an asp.
Beware, take Care, nor Swat the pettish wasp.
The Harebrain'd Sinners Sins to him are toyes;
Theyre Entertainments, Gambols, Games with Dice.
The Madbrain'd Sinners Sins to him are joyes
Untill he's made to paye in full their price.
The Crackbrain'd Sin-addicted Scarab bug
That liveth but for Sin to Hell is Drug.
May 6, 2024
May 6, 2024 at 9:13 PM UTC
Lawrence Hall HSG
[email protected]
Book Removal Training
The orange flames waved at the crowd as paper and
print dissolved inside them. Burning words were torn
from their sentences.
-The Book Thief, p. 112
And now burning words must be torn from free people
For if people read they might think about things:
Why does the Party’s Jesus hate everyone
And why are weapons superior to ideas?
Can a hangperson’s noose teach us to love
Burning crosses comfort a frightened child
Why do the cult’s censors fly our flag upside down
While stealing books from our children’s hands?
A state that trains people to purge library books
Is a slave state
Florida revises school library book removal training after public outcry
Story by Douglas Soule, USA TODAY NETWORK
Florida revises school library book removal training after public outcry (msn.com)
Jun 10, 2024
Jun 10, 2024 at 12:29 PM UTC
I have to do each and every thing
Washing, sweeping, cooking.
I have to be quite when anyone is shouting,
I have to bear constant torture,
I have to shut my mouth when I will be insulted,
This is all because I am a girl.
I have to crave my chest & drink the blood,dig the lake of tears , decorate the head with burden of responsibility,break the wings of my dream angel , all because I am a girl.
The day I was born I was dead ,the flame of hate burned my Soule,I have no answer to the question.
Am I alive?
But I can say without fear that
Yes, I am a girl.
Oct 24, 2020
Oct 24, 2020 at 11:00 AM UTC
The Sonne of God my shepheard is:
I am
His lambe.
I shall not want, for I am His.
He leadeth me to tender grasse
Where I
Do lie,
And where still waters gently passe.
He doth restore (and therein blesse)
My soule,
Makes whole
My finely shatter'd brokennesse.
My comfort is His staffe and rod:
They prove
The love
And mercy of the Sonne of God.
For His names sake, my shepheard leades
His keepe
Of sheepe
Through righteous wayes 'twixt thornes and weedes.
Yea, though I walke through Deaths blacke vale
Of shade,
Affrayd
I'm not, for Thou dost leade my trayle.
Sith Thou art with me, Lord, no feare
I'll have:
I'll brave
Evil with ease and eke good cheare.
Thou dost prepare, amid my foes,
My food:
Renew'd
I am, and my cuppe overflowes.
Thou dost with oyle anoint mine head,
Dost poure
It o'er
The living head that once was dead.
Surely goodnesse and mercy shall
With me
E'er be,
For Thou'rt my home and life and all.
Jun 29, 2021
Jun 29, 2021 at 9:49 AM UTC