Written by
Tupac Shakur |
Before u came the triangle never broke
we were bonded and melded as one
but as the 2 pushed u away
the one got weak and embraced u
and now u are ripping us apart.
.
The worst feeling of helplessness
the greatest pain has rested in my heart
the vision of heaven fades
and the nightmare of loneliness has started.
.
My hero has been defeated by u
and now what can i do
watch as u destroy us
and our love is finally through
I know worst is here
I feel it in my heart
u got into the circle
now u are tearing us apart!
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Written by
Thomas Moore |
"What! still those two infernal questions,
That with our meals our slumbers mix --
That spoil our tempers and digestions --
Eternal Corn and Catholics!
Gods! were there ever two such bores?
Nothing else talk'd of night or morn --
Nothing in doors, or out of doors,
But endless Catholics and Corn!
Never was such a brace of pests --
While Ministers, still worse than either,
Skill'd but in feathering their nests,
Plague us with both, and settle neither.
So addled in my cranium meet
Popery and Corn, that oft I doubt,
Whether this year, 'twas bonded Wheat
Or bonded Papists, they let out.
Here, landlords, here, polemics nail you,
Arm'd with all rubbish they can rake up;
Prices and Texts at once assail you --
From Daniel these, and those from Jacob.
And when you sleep, with head still torn
Between the two, their shapes you mix,
Till sometimes Catholics seem Corn --
Then Corn again seems Catholics.
Now, Dantzic wheat before you floats --
Now, Jesuits from California --
Now, Ceres, link'd with Titus Oats,
Comes dancing through the "Porta Cornea.
"
Oft, too, the Corn grows animate,
And a whole crop of heads appears,
Like Papists, bearding Church and State --
Themselves, together by the ears!
In short, these torments never cease;
And oft I wish myself transferr'd off
To some far, lonely land of peace,
Where Corn or Papists ne'er were heard of.
Yes, waft me, Parry, to the Pole,
For -- if my fate is to be chosen
'Twixt bores and icebergs -- on my soul,
I'd rather, of the two, be frozen!
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Written by
Thomas Hardy |
THE sun had wheeled from Grey's to Dammer's Crest,
And still I mused on that Thing imminent:
At length I sought the High-street to the West.
The level flare raked pane and pediment
And my wrecked face, and shaped my nearing friend
Like one of those the Furnace held unshent.
"I've news concerning her," he said.
"Attend.
They fly to-night at the late moon's first gleam:
Watch with thy steel: two righteous thrusts will end
"Her shameless visions and his passioned dream.
I'll watch with thee, to testify thy wrong--
To aid, maybe--Law consecrates the scheme.
"
I started, and we paced the flags along
Till I replied: "Since it has come to this
I'll do it! But alone.
I can be strong.
"
Three hours past Curfew, when the Froom's mild hiss
Reigned sole, undulled by whirr of merchandise,
From Pummery-Tout to where the Gibbet is,
I crossed my pleasaunce hard by Glyd'path Rise,
And stood beneath the wall.
Eleven strokes went,
And to the door they came, contrariwise,
And met in clasp so close I had but bent
My lifted blade upon them to have let
Their two souls loose upon the firmament.
But something held my arm.
"A moment yet
As pray-time ere you wantons die!" I said;
And then they saw me.
Swift her gaze was set
With eye and cry of love illimited
Upon her Heart-king.
Never upon me
Had she thrown look of love so thorough-sped!.
.
.
At once she flung her faint form shieldingly
On his, against the vengeance of my vows;
The which o'erruling, her shape shielded he.
Blanked by such love, I stood as in a drowse,
And the slow moon edged from the upland nigh,
My sad thoughts moving thuswise: "I may house
"And I may husband her, yet what am I
But licensed tyrant to this bonded pair?
Says Charity, Do as ye would be done by.
".
.
.
Hurling my iron to the bushes there,
I bade them stay.
And, as if brain and breast
Were passive, they walked with me to the stair.
Inside the house none watched; and on we prest
Before a mirror, in whose gleam I read
Her beauty, his,--and mine own mien unblest;
Till at her room I turned.
"Madam," I said,
"Have you the wherewithal for this? Pray speak.
Love fills no cupboard.
You'll need daily bread.
"
"We've nothing, sire," said she, "and nothing seek.
'Twere base in me to rob my lord unware;
Our hands will earn a pittance week by week.
"
And next I saw she'd piled her raiment rare
Within the garde-robes, and her household purse,
Her jewels, and least lace of personal wear;
And stood in homespun.
Now grown wholly hers,
I handed her the gold, her jewells all,
And him the choicest of her robes diverse.
"I'll take you to the doorway in the wall,
And then adieu," I to them.
"Friends, withdraw.
"
They did so; and she went--beyond recall.
And as I paused beneath the arch I saw
Their moonlit figures--slow, as in surprise--
Descend the slope, and vanish on the haw.
"'Fool,' some will say," I thought.
"But who is wise,
Save God alone, to weigh my reasons why?"
--"Hast thou struck home?" came with the boughs' night-sighs.
It was my friend.
"I have struck well.
They fly,
But carry wounds that none can cicatrize.
"
--"Not mortal?" said he.
"Lingering--worse," said I.
|
Written by
Thomas Hardy |
I say, "She was as good as fair,"
When standing by her mound;
"Such passing sweetness," I declare,
"No longer treads the ground.
"
I say, "What living Love can catch
Her bloom and bonhomie,
And what in newer maidens match
Her olden warmth to me!"
- There stands within yon vestry-nook
Where bonded lovers sign,
Her name upon a faded book
With one that is not mine.
To him she breathed the tender vow
She once had breathed to me,
But yet I say, "O love, even now
Would I had died for thee!"
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