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The Mountain and The Squirrel
Ralph Waldo Emerson
The mountain and the squirrel
Had a quarrel,
And the former called the latter
“Little prig.”
Bun replied,
“You are doubtless very big;
But all sorts of things and weather
Must be taken in together
To make up a year
And a sphere.
And I think it no disgrace
To occupy my place.
If I’m not so large as you,
You are not so small as I,
And not half so spry:
I’ll not deny you make
A very pretty squirrel track.
Talents differ; all is well and wisely put;
If I cannot carry forests on my back,
Neither can you crack a nut.“
A Man’s Ideal Edward A. Guest
To live as gently as I can; To be, no matter where, a man, To take what comes of good or ill And cling to faith and honor still; To do my best and let that stand, The record of my brain and hand, And then should failure come to me, Still work and hope for victory. To have no secret place wherein I stoop unseen to shame and sin; To be the same when I’m alone, As when every deed is known, To live undaunted, unafraid Of any step that I have made; To be without pretense or sham, Exactly what men think I am. To leave some simple mark behindTo keep my having lived in mind;
If enmity to aught I show,
To be an honest, generous foe,
To play my little part, nor whine
That greater honors are not mine.
This, I believe, is all I need
For my philosophy and creed.
I have seen this poem in my Journal (A written one), January 13, 2007 entry. As far as I can remember, I have read this somewhere in a broadsheet wherein the author of a specific entry said that this SHOULD be the poem of politicians. But of course, this is for everyone. Yeah right, for the woman too. If only politicians would have this ideal. LOL.
Just the perfect poem for the heart broken man. Yay! We have discussed this in our Humanities I class and a found this one very good. We have listened to an audio version of this (an audio-poem?) and the class was, apparently, inside an emotional sphere. LOL.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines
Pablo Neruda
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example,’The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.’
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another’s. She will be another’s. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
Much Madness is Divinest Sense
Emily Dickinson
Much madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye;
Much sense the starkest madness.
‘Tis the majority
In this, as all, prevails
Assent, and you are sane;
Demur–you’re straightway dangerous
And handled with a chain
I would be leaving for Baguio City tomorrow for the 9th National Debating Championships. Ugh, I don’t know what to expect but I need to be in a debate mode on the 22nd–the first round of the tournament. We need to have much madness to achieve the divinest sense. Oh well, five days of clash of persuasive powers. I do good in persuading other people but I am weak in persuading myself. Issues, eat me.
About
Professional Everything who swags like a boss in his plaid boxers.
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