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The spirit breathes upon the world,

And brings the truth to sight;

Precepts and promises afford

A sanctifying light.

 

A glory gilds the sacred page,

Majestic like the sun;

It gives a light to every age,

It gives, but borrows none.

 

The hand that gave it still supplies

The gracious light and heat;

High truths upon the nations rise,

They rise, but never set.

 

Let everlasting thanks be thine,

For such a bright display,

As makes a world of darkness shine

With beams of heavenly day.

 

 

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‘Tis death! and peace, indeed, is here,

And ease from shame, and rest from fear.

There’s nothing can dismarble now

The smoothness of that limpid brow.

But is a calm like this, in truth,

The crowning end of life and youth,

And when this boon rewards the dead,

Are all debts paid, has all been said?

And is the heart of youth so light,

Its step so firm , its eyes so bright,

Because on its hot brow there blows

A wind of promise and repose

From the far grave, to which it goes;

Because it hath the hope to come,

One day, to harbor in the tomb?

Ah no, the bliss youth dreams is one

For daylight, for the cheerful sun,

For feeling nerves and feeling breath–

Youth dreams a bliss on this side death.

It dreams a rest, if not more deep,

More grateful than this marble sleep;

It hears a voice within it tell:

Calm’s not life’s crown, though calm is well.

‘Tis all perhaps which man acquires,

But it’s not what our youth desires.

 

 

 

Is this a time to be cloudy and sad,

When our mother Nature laughs around;

When even the deep blue heavens look glad,

And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?

 

There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren,

And gossip of swallows through all the sky;

The ground-squirrel gaily chirps by his den,

And the wilding bee hums merrily by.

 

The clouds are at play in azure space,

And their shadows at play on the bright green vale,

And here they stretch to the frolic chase,

And there they roll on the easy gale.

 

There’s a dance of leaves in that aspen bower,

There’s a titter of winds in that beechen tree,

There a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower,

And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.

 

And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles

On a dewy earth that smiles in his ray,

On the leaping waters and gay young isles;

At, look, he’ll smile thy gloom away.

 

 

 

 

Just Home and Love! the words are small

Four little letters into each;

And yet you will not find in all

The wide and gracious range of speech

Two more so tenderly complete:

When angels talk in Heaven above,

I’m sure they have no words so sweet

Than Home and Love.

 

Just Home and Love! it’s hard to guess

which of the two were best to gain;

Home without Love is bitterness;

Love without Home is often pain.

No! each alone will seldom do;

Somehow they travel hand and glove:

If you win one you must have two,

Both Home and Love.

 

And if you’ve both, well then I’m sure

You ought to sing the whole day long;

It doesn’t matter if you’re poor

With these to make divine your song.

And so I praisefully  repeat,

When angels talk in Heaven above,

There are no words more simply sweet

Than Home and Love.

My hair are long

Don’t get me wrong

I am not a hippie

Know where to make pee-pee

Walk don’t crawl

Can curl into a ball

But I have a goal

Which I would like to achieve

To find a place to live

Here I am a captive

Would be glad

To sleep in my own bed

And stop feeling sad

By the way my name is Ed.

 

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Grave men, near death who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

If starry space no limit knows

And sun succeeds to sun,

There is no reason to suppose

Our earth the only one.

‘Mid countless constellations cast

A million worlds may be,

With each a God to bless or blast

And steer to destiny.

 

Just think! A million gods or so

To guide each vital stream,

With over all to boss the show

A Deity supreme.

Such magnitude oppress my mind;

From cosmic space it swings;

So ultimately glad to find

Relief in little things.

 

For look! Within my hollow hand,

While round the earth careens,

I hold a single grain of sand

And wonder what it means.

Ah! if I had the eyes to see,

And brain to understand,

I think Life’s mystery might be

Soled in this grain of sand.

 

 

Come to me in my dreams, and then

By day I shall be well again!

For so the night will more than pay

The hopeless longing of the day.

 

Come, as thou cam’st a thousand times,

A messenger from radiant climes,

And smile on thy new world, and be

As kind to others as to me!

 

Or, as thou never cam’st sooth,

Come now, and let me dream it truth,

And part my hair, and kiss my brow,

And say, my love why sufferest thou?

 

Come to me in my dreams, and then

By day I shall be well again!

For so the night will more than pay

The hopeless longing of the day.

Between the dusk of a summer night

And the dawn of a summer day,

We caught at a mood as it passed in flight,

And we bade it stop and stay.

And what the dawn of night began

With the dusk of day was done;

For that is the way of woman and man,

When hazard has made them one.

Arc upon arc, from shade to shine,

The world went thundering free;

And what was his errand but hers and mine–

The lords of him, I and she?

O, it’s die we must, but it’s live we can,

And the marvel of earth and sun

Is all for the joy of woman and man

And the longing that makes them one.

We play

All day

We eat

We greet

Hello, I am Pete

We roll

We crawl

Into the bowl

And I am Nicole

But this is not the norm

It is only when we perform

Here we are in detention

We need your attention

To show you that we are smart

Please take it to heart

Find us a home

Where we can freely r0am

Thanks from Nicole  and Pete

This will be very sweet…