Today I Will Go Once Again

Today I will go once again
Into life, into haggling, into market,
And lead the army of my songs
To duel against the market tide.

by Velimir Khlebnikov.

Today They Made A Bonfire

Today they made a bonfire
Close to the cherry tree
And smoke like incense drifted
Through the white tracery.
I think the gardener really
Played a tremendous game,
Offering beauty homage
In soft blue smoke and flame.

by Lesbia Harford.

Today When You Went Up The Hill

Today when you went up the hill
And all that I could see
Was just a speck of black and white
Very far from me,
It seemed more strange than words can say,
The dot that I could see,
Really was the dearest thing
The world holds for me.

by Lesbia Harford.

It's All I Have To Bring Today

26

It's all I have to bring today—
This, and my heart beside—
This, and my heart, and all the fields—
And all the meadows wide—
Be sure you count—should I forget
Some one the sum could tell—
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.

by Emily Dickinson.

Hang Up The Swing Of Love Today!

Hang the body and the mind between the arms of the beloved,
in the ecstasy of love's joy:

Bring the tearful streams of the rainy clouds to your eyes,
and cover your heart with the shadow of darkness:

Bring your face nearer to his ear,
and speak of the deepest longings of your heart.

Kabir says: 'Listen to me brother!
bring the vision of the Beloved in your heart.'

by Kabir.

So here hath been dawning
Another blue Day:
Think wilt thou let it
Slip useless away.

Out of Eternity
This new Day is born;
Into Eternity,
At night, will return.

Behold it aforetime
No eye ever did:
So soon it forever
From all eyes is hid.

Here hath been dawning
Another blue Day:
Think wilt thou let it
Slip useless away.

by Thomas Carlyle.

Today, In Class,

Today, in class,
I read aloud to forty little boys
The legend of King Croesus' boasted joys.
They were so young,
Restless, and eager, I believed they'd find
This moral story little to their mind.
But they were pleased
With the old legend, quick to comprehend
Sorrowful wisdom's triumph at the end:
They seemed to feel,
In hush of wonder, hurry of amaze,
The sure uncertainty of all men's days.

by Lesbia Harford.

Celebrate Spring Today

Rejoice, my love, rejoice,
Its spring here, rejoice.
Bring out your lotions and toiletries,
And decorate your long hair.
Oh, you're still enjoying your sleep, wake-up.
Even your destiny has woken up,
Its spring here, rejoice.
You snobbish lady with arrogant looks,
The King Amir is here to see you;
Let your eyes meet his,
Oh my love, rejoice;
Its spring here again.

[Translated from 'Aaj Basant Manaalay']

by Amir Khusro.

I Came To Buy A Smile—today

223

I Came to buy a smile—today—
But just a single smile—
The smallest one upon your face
Will suit me just as well—
The one that no one else would miss
It shone so very small—
I'm pleading at the "counter"—sir—
Could you afford to sell—
I've Diamonds—on my fingers—
You know what Diamonds are?
I've Rubies—live the Evening Blood—
And Topaz—like the star!
'Twould be "a Bargain" for a Jew!
Say—may I have it—Sir?

by Emily Dickinson.

Today Is Rebels' Day. And Yet We Work

Today is rebels' day. And yet we work—
All of us rebels, until day is done.
And when the stars come out we celebrate
A revolution that's not yet begun.
Today is rebels' day. And men in jail
Tread the old mill-round until day is done.
And when night falls they sit alone to brood
On revolution that's not yet begun.
Today is rebels' day. Let all of us
Take courage to fight on until we're done—
Fight though we may not live to see the hour
The Revolution's splendidly begun.

by Lesbia Harford.

Today I saw
A market cart going along the road,
High-piled and creaking with a sonsy load
Of cabbages.
The driver sat
Under a little tent himself had made
To give him shelter from the rain or shade
In summertime.
Such men as he,
Backed by the riches of a country side,
Should have kings' faces, full of jolly pride
In comeliness.
But he was tired
After a night's work under starlit skies,
And crouched like a poor slave, with anxious eyes
Turned citywards.

by Lesbia Harford.

Hush'D Be The Camps Today

Hush'd be the camps today,
And soldiers let us drape our war-worn weapons,
And each with musing soul retire to celebrate,
Our dear commander's death.

No more for him life's stormy conflicts,
Nor victory, nor defeat--no more time's dark events,
Charging like ceaseless clouds across the sky.

But sing poet in our name,
Sing of the love we bore him--because you, dweller in camps, know it truly.

As they invault the coffin there,
Sing--as they close the doors of earth upon him--one verse,
For the heavy hearts of soldiers.

by Walt Whitman.

The Flute Resonates Today!

The flute resonates today! The flute resonates today!
The women dance with the lord, dance, and sing as they play!
The flute resonates today!

The sound of clapping, the sound of drumming,
The harmony of the jingling anklets unbound!
Mohan is with the women, ravishing and proud,
Their ringing bells, and their melodious sound!
The flute resonates today!

Rapt, oblivious, and absorbed in each other as they happily play!
Says Narsaiyyo, unbound is the joy of the ras players,
As tumultuous love comes down in showers!
The flute resonates today! The flute resonates today!

by Narsinh Mehta.

My Portion Is Defeat—today

639

My Portion is Defeat—today—
A paler luck than Victory—
Less Paeans—fewer Bells—
The Drums don't follow Me—with tunes—
Defeat—a somewhat slower—means—
More Arduous than Balls—

'Tis populous with Bone and stain—
And Men too straight to stoop again—,
And Piles of solid Moan—
And Chips of Blank—in Boyish Eyes—
And scraps of Prayer—
And Death's surprise,
Stamped visible—in Stone—

There's somewhat prouder, over there—
The Trumpets tell it to the Air—
How different Victory
To Him who has it—and the One
Who to have had it, would have been
Contender—to die—

by Emily Dickinson.

Why Not Do It, Sir, Today?

'Why so I will, you noisy bird,
This very day I'll advertise you,
Perhaps some busy ones may prize you.
A fine-tongued parrot as was ever heard,
I'll word it thus-set forth all charms about you,
And say no family should be without you.'


Thus far a gentleman addressed a bird,
Then to his friend: 'An old procrastinator,
Sir, I am: do you wonder that I hate her?
Though she but seven words can say,
Twenty and twenty times a day
She interferes with all my dreams,
My projects, plans, and airy schemes,
Mocking my foible to my sorrow:
I'll advertise this bird to-morrow.'


To this the bird seven words did say:
'Why not do it, sir, to-day?'

by Charles Lamb.

I'M Sorry For The Dead—today

529

I'm sorry for the Dead—Today—
It's such congenial times
Old Neighbors have at fences—
It's time o' year for Hay.

And Broad—Sunburned Acquaintance
Discourse between the Toil—
And laugh, a homely species
That makes the Fences smile—

It seems so straight to lie away
From all of the noise of Fields—
The Busy Carts—the fragrant Cocks—
The Mower's Metre—Steals—

A Trouble lest they're homesick—
Those Farmers—and their Wives—
Set separate from the Farming—
And all the Neighbors' lives—

A Wonder if the Sepulchre
Don't feel a lonesome way—
When Men—and Boys—and Carts—and June,
Go down the Fields to "Hay"—

by Emily Dickinson.

Today We Make The Poet's Words Our Own

To-day we make the poet's words our own,
And utter them in plaintive undertone;
Nor to the living only be they said,
But to the other living called the dead,
Whose dear, paternal images appear
Not wrapped in gloom, but robed in sunshine here;
Whose simple lives, complete and without flaw,
Were part and parcel of great Nature's law;
Who said not to their Lord, as if afraid,
"Here is thy talent in a napkin laid,'
But labored in their sphere, as men who live
In the delight that work alone can give.
Peace be to them; eternal peace and rest,
And the fulfilment of the great behest:
"Ye have been faithful over a few things,
Over ten cities shall ye reign as kings."

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

The Wind Didn'T Come From The Orchard—today

316

The Wind didn't come from the Orchard—today—
Further than that—
Nor stop to play with the Hay—
Nor joggle a Hat—
He's a transitive fellow—very—
Rely on that—

If He leave a Bur at the door
We know He has climbed a Fir—
But the Fir is Where—Declare—
Were you ever there?

If He brings Odors of Clovers—
And that is His business—not Ours—
Then He has been with the Mowers—
Whetting away the Hours
To sweet pauses of Hay—
His Way—of a June Day—

If He fling Sand, and Pebble—
Little Boys Hats—and Stubble—
With an occasional Steeple—
And a hoarse "Get out of the way, I say,"
Who'd be the fool to stay?
Would you—Say—
Would you be the fool to stay?

by Emily Dickinson.

It's Fine Today

Sure, this world is full of trouble
I ain't said it ain't.
Lord, I've had enough and double
Reason for complaint;
Rain and storm have come to fret me,
Skies are often gray;
Thorns and brambles have beset me
On the road — but say,
Ain't it fine today?

What's the use of always weepin',
Making trouble last?
What's the use of always keepin'
Thinkin' of the past?
Each must have his tribulation —
Water with his wine;
Life, it ain't no celebration,
Trouble? — I've had mine —
But today is fine!

It's today that I am livin',
Not a month ago.
Havin'; losin'; takin'; givin';
As time wills it so.
Yesterday a cloud of sorrow
Fell across the way,
It may rain again tomorrow,
It may rain — but say,
Ain't it fine today?

by Douglas Malloch.

Today Kanuda My Darling, Has Deserted Me!

'Today Kanuda my darling, has deserted me!'
Radha’s necklace he has given to Rukmini!
In every street, I cry in every house, I search,
But it was in Queen Rukmini's palace that I found my pearls!
'Today Kanuda my darling, has deserted me!'
Radha’s necklace he has given to Rukmini!

If I had been awake, I wouldn't have let him steal
But unfortunately I was in the grip of arch-enemy-the sleep!
I woke up weeping for Hari
!'Today Kanuda my darling, has deserted me!'
Radha’s necklace he has given to Rukmini!'
I will blow the bellows and fire the earthen pot, I swear!
I will even call sage Narada for the sake of my necklace!'
'Today Kanuda my darling, has deserted me!'
Radha’s necklace he has given to Rukmini!

Radha was filled with rage; her eyes were filled with angry tears.'
Give back my necklace, dear Hari, else I will die!'
'Today Kanuda my darling, has deserted me!'
Radha’s necklace he has given to Rukmini!

Platefuls of pearls were brought
And the unpierced pearls were strung together!
It is good to attain Narsaiyya's lord, for he alone can comfort angry Radha.
'Today Kanuda my darling, has deserted me!'
Radha’s necklace he has given to Rukmini

by Narsinh Mehta.

O Today It’s Diwali!

O today it’s Diwali! O it’s the Festival of Lights for me!
For the Lord with garland of wild flowers, at last, has come to me!
He invites me and soothes the searing desolation of so many days!
O today it’s Diwali! O it’s the Festival of Lights for me!
For the Lord with garland of wild flowers, at last, has come to me!

Light, O Light the brilliant lamps! Draw rangoli with exquisite pearls!
Sing, O sing the auspicious hymns, sweet proud girls,
And beat, beat the festive drums,
For today is Diwali! O it’s the Festival of Lights for me!
For the Lord with garland of wild flowers, at last, has come to me!

A wonderful crown graces his head,
An exquisite necklace of champa flowers graces his neck,
His cheeks stuffed with red betel leaves!
And dressed in beautiful yellow garment,
He exudes alluring perfumes of sandalwood!
O today it’s Diwali! O it’s the festival of lights for me!
For the Lord with garland of wild flowers, at last, has come to me!

Because of you, we are not orphans, O Lord!
Can we ever sing your praises enough?
Just don’t go away, Narsaiyya’s lord, that’s all I ask!
O today it’s Diwali! O it’s the Festival of Lights for me!
For the Lord with garland of wild flowers, at last, has come to me!

by Narsinh Mehta.

With Tears They Buried You Today

With tears they buried you to-day,
But well I knew no turf could hold
Your gladness long beneath the mould,
Or cramp your laughter in the clay;
I smiled while others wept for you
Because I knew.

And now you sit with me to-night
Here in our old, accustomed place;
Tender and mirthful is your face,
Your eyes with starry joy are bright­
Oh, you are merry as a song
For love is strong!

They think of you as lying there
Down in the churchyard grim and old;
They think of you as mute and cold,
A wan, white thing that once was fair,
With dim, sealed eyes that never may
Look on the day.

But love cannot be coffined so
In clod and darkness; it must rise
And seek its own in radiant guise,
With immortality aglow,
Making of death's triumphant sting
A little thing.

Ay, we shall laugh at those who deem
Our hearts are sundered! Listen, sweet,
The tripping of the wind's swift feet
Along the by-ways of our dream,
And hark the whisper of the rose
Wilding that blows.

Oh, still you love those simple things,
And still you love them more with me;
The grave has won no victory;
It could not clasp your shining wings,
It could not keep you from my side,
Dear and my bride!

by Lucy Maud Montgomery.

The Pharaohs Of Today

Pain and labor of oppression gave the Western world its birth,
From such shores the love of freedom ne'er should perish from the earth;
To a conscience that's awakened, these are words to make it start,
'Each oppressor of a human buys himself a hardened heart!'

'Twas the sixties broke the shackles from the body of the slave,
Which was only half his freedom, for his mind we now must save.
Liberty of his opinion, such as other people use
Give him all that makes for manhood, and the same he'll not abuse.

True, the God of ancient Israel loves the Negro of today,
Many proofs are had in common of the truth of what I say;
For the stronger the oppression made them multiply and grow,
Of the Negro in this country quite the same is true, you know.

'Give him freedom,' says the white man, 'will defeat our greatest plan,
With his freedom here's the trouble, he'll aspire to be a man.
Men will scorn to suffer treatment on the level of a brute,
Safest way to keep them subjects is their manhood to dispute.'

Ancient Pharaoh was a pagan, bowing down to wood and stone,
Deeds today of Christian Pharaohs would disgrace the ancient throne.
Leaguers now with Satan's kingdom from their plans he never parts,
Such oppressors of a human pay the price of hardened hearts!

Pharaoh's cruelty in Egypt filled the Israelites with pain,
Thus his heart was fully hardened out of love for earthly gain.
For the same he met destruction; to his rashness it was due,
Modern Pharaohs, his example may a lesson bring to you!


When the Jews for wrong decided, then the nation lost its rank.
Rome, debauched in gross corruption, into degradation sank.
Sins of national importance bring calamities the same,
Just as true as it is ancient, sin will bring the nation shame.

by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer.

Australia Today 1916

They came from the lower levels
Deep down in the Brilliant mine;
From the wastes where the whirlwind revels,
Whirling the leaves of pine.
On the western plains, where the Darling flows,
And the dust storms wheel and shift,
The teamster loosened his yokes and bows,
And turned his team adrift.

On the western stations, far and wide,
There's many an empty pen,
For the "ringers" have cast the machines aside
And answered the call for men.

On the lucerne flats where the stream runs slow,
And the Hunter finds the sea,
The women are driving the mowers now,
With the children at their knee.

For the men have gone, as a man must go,
At the call of the rolling drums;
For the men have sworn that the Turks shall know
When the old battalion comes.

Column of companies by the right,
Steady in strong array,
With the sun on the bayonets gleaming bright,
The battalion marched away.

They battled, the old battalion,
Through the toil of the training camps,
Sweated and strove at lectures,
By the light of the stinking lamps.

Marching, shooting, and drilling;
Steady and slow and stern;
Awkward and strange, but willing
All of their job to learn.

Learning to use the rifle;
Learning to use the spade;
Deeming fatigue a trifle
During each long parade.

Till at last they welded
Into a concrete whole,
And there grew in the old battalion
A kind of battalion's soul.

Brotherhood never was like it;
Friendship is not the word;
But deep in that body of marching men
The soul of a nation stirred.

And like one man with a single thought
Cheery and confident;
Ready for all that the future brought,
The old battalion went.

Column of companies by the right,
Steady in strong array,
With the sun on the bayonets gleaming bright,
The battalion marched away.

How shall we tell of the landing
By the hills where the foe were spread,
And the track of the old battalion
Was marked by the Turkish dead?

With the dash that discipline teaches,
Though the hail of the shrapnel flew,
And the forts were raking the beaches,
And the toll of the dead men grew.

They fixed their grip on the gaunt hillside
With a pluck that has won them fame;
And the home-folks know that the dead men died
For the pride of Australia's name.

Column of companies by the right,
To the beat of the rolling drums;
With honours gained in a stirring fight
The old battalion comes!

by Banjo Paterson.

Yesterday And Today Xii

The gold-hoarder walked in his palace park and with him walked his troubles. And over his head hovered worries as a vulture hovers over a carcass, until he reached a beautiful lake surrounded by magnificent marble statuary.

He sat there pondering the water which poured from the mouths of the statues like thoughts flowing freely from a lover's imagination, and contemplating heavily his palace which stood upon a knoll like a birth-mark upon the cheek of a maiden. His fancy revealed to him the pages of his life's drama which he read with falling tears that veiled his eyes and prevented him from viewing man's feeble additions to Nature.

He looked back with piercing regret to the images of his early life, woven into pattern by the gods, until he could no longer control his anguish. He said aloud, "Yesterday I was grazing my sheep in the green valley, enjoying my existence, sounding my flute, and holding my head high. Today I am a prisoner of greed. Gold leads into gold, then into restlessness and finally into crushing misery.

"Yesterday I was like a singing bird, soaring freely here and there in the fields. Today I am a slave to fickle wealth, society's rules, and city's customs, and purchased friends, pleasing the people by conforming to the strange and narrow laws of man. I was born to be free and enjoy the bounty of life, but I find myself like a beast of burden so heavily laden with gold that his back is breaking.

"Where are the spacious plains, the singing brooks, the pure breeze, the closeness of Nature? Where is my deity? I have lost all! Naught remains save loneliness that saddens me, gold that ridicules me, slaves who curse to my back, and a palace that I have erected as a tomb for my happiness, and in whose greatness I have lost my heart.

"Yesterday I roamed the prairies and the hills together with the Bedouin's daughter; Virtue was our companion, Love our delight, and the moon our guardian. Today I am among women with shallow beauty who sell themselves for gold and diamonds.

"Yesterday I was carefree, sharing with the shepherds all the joy of life; eating, playing, working, singing, and dancing together to the music of the heart's truth. Today I find myself among the people like a frightened lamb among the wolves. As I walk in the roads, they gaze at me with hateful eyes and point at me with scorn and jealousy, and as I steal through the park I see frowning faces all about me.

"Yesterday I was rich in happiness and today I am poor in gold.

"Yesterday I was a happy shepherd looking upon his head as a merciful king looks with pleasure upon his contented subjects. Today I am a slave standing before my wealth, my wealth which robbed me of the beauty of life I once knew.

"Forgive me, my Judge! I did not know that riches would put my life in fragments and lead me into the dungeons of harshness and stupidity. What I thought was glory is naught but an eternal inferno."

He gathered himself wearily and walked slowly toward the palace, sighing and repeating, "Is this what people call wealth? Is this the god I am serving and worshipping? Is this what I seek of the earth? Why can I not trade it for one particle of contentment? Who would sell me one beautiful thought for a ton of gold? Who would give me one moment of love for a handful of gems? Who would grant me an eye that can see others' hearts, and take all my coffers in barter?"

As he reached the palace gates he turned and looked toward the city as Jeremiah gazed toward Jerusalem. He raised his arms in woeful lament and shouted, "Oh people of the noisome city, who are living in darkness, hastening toward misery, preaching falsehood, and speaking with stupidity...until when shall you remain ignorant? Unit when shall you abide in the filth of life and continue to desert its gardens? Why wear you tattered robes of narrowness while the silk raiment of Nature's beauty is fashioned for you? The lamp of wisdom is dimming; it is time to furnish it with oil. The house of true fortune is being destroyed; it is time to rebuild it and guard it. The thieves of ignorance have stolen the treasure of your peace; it is time to retake it!"

At that moment a poor man stood before him and stretched forth his hand for alms. As he looked at the beggar, his lips parted, his eyes brightened with a softness, and his face radiated kindness. It was as if the yesterday he had lamented by the lake had come to greet him. He embraced the pauper with affection and filled his hands with gold, and with a voice sincere with the sweetness of love he said, "Come back tomorrow and bring with you your fellow sufferers. All your possessions will be restored."

He entered his palace saying, "Everything in life is good; even gold, for it teaches a lesson. Money is like a stringed instrument; he who does not know how to use it properly will hear only discordant music. Money is like love; it kills slowly and painfully the one who withholds it, and it enlivens the other who turns it upon his fellow man."

by Khalil Gibran.