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Thoreau, who has always had my favorite quotes to live by, once said, “Time is but the stream I go a fishing in.” It’s a quote I’ve always loved, and though I’ve always tried to keep it as a mentality, recently, more than ever before, I’ve begun to feel the slow tug of time at my doorstep. Time, instead of the once mellow stream I’ve gone a fishing in, now seems more like the swift current that’s slowly dragging me away. I’ve posted some of my favorite quotes to live by and poems about time, in hopes of breaking the nagging discouragement that sometimes comes to find me when times seems like it’s running out and slipping away. The first excerpt is by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, his poem “A Psalm of Life”:
“Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.”
I’ve always been very encouraged by that poem, especially the third stanza. It encourages me that, when I don’t know what to do, I ought to just do something to better myself, so that tomorrow finds me better off than today. Simple things, done consistently, often end up becoming big things. The next excerpt is from a poem by Thomas Moore entitled “Farewell, But Whenever You Welcome the Hour”:
“Let fate do her worst, there are relics of joy,
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy;
Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care,
And bring back the features that joy used to wear.
Long, long be my heart with such memories filled!
Like the vase, in which flowers have once been distilled
You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will,
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.”
This poem echoes the sentiments of the last post I made, about being “Wrecks of another world, whose ashes are still warm.” Equally true is the shattered vase, whose scent still carries the smell of roses. It’s a very cool word picture, and it reminds me to be thankful for things, even when they don’t work out — to hold onto the scent of the roses amid the chaos. The last is another poem, one that I inscribed onto the back of a special bookmark that someone once hand made for me.
“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may
Old time is still a flyin’
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will by dyin’”
I love that reminder to live life to the full, to realize that meaningful things don’t last forever. I hope you liked these poems and quotes to live by!
9 Comments
that last one is really cool. and life is too short to focus on the grave but to live each day as if we are alive.
Thanks Brian! That poem is one of my all time favorites. Just that little stanza has many a time given me the inspiration to get up and keep truckin, as they say. I’m very glad you like it.
Gather ye rosebuds, one of my favorites. It was quoted in Dead Poet’s Society at the beginning of the movie. The broken vase reminds me of shattered dreams with slivers of hope that true love still exists. And I am here to tell you, my friend, that it does!
Genevieve! It’s very good to see you. I was actually going to send you an email this week, seeing if your trip plans were still on schedule. Dead Poets Society is one of my favorite movies by the way
I know it’s your fav! I’m always listening….I love it too, I wrote a poem about it…
The Poet Inside
Six young men stood before,
The big machine, impressionable.
There to walk the scholar’s line,
And dare not miss a beat in time.
Their strong backs, stiff and straight,
Looked to those with powers great,
To guide their lives like little maps,
And mark their points with golden tacks.
But who upon their lives did call,
A man who challenged one and all.
To seize the day as lovers do,
To see beyond what once thought true.
Their minds now sang with leaping thoughts,
And their hearts raced with newfound lust.
Imagination found its way,
Into six open windows that day.
But in a tragic turned event,
Wicked pride with no relent,
Slammed one window shut, such force.
And this poor soul so lost his course.
He died from a broken heart,
Wrenched from embrace, his love for art.
He lost her that cold blustery night,
Without her, he chose instead to die.
From that point on, all things grew worse,
Compounding in a growing curse.
Curtains quickly drawn to block,
The sunlight that was believed to mock,
The machine’s methodic clock.
And thus these five surrendered hearts,
Returned to their determined parts.
Lured by old voice reliant,
Back to a still compliance.
But in one corner, stray sunbeam peeked,
Around the curtain so to seek,
Her Captain, oh my Captain there!
And now enlightened room aware,
Awoke, aroused with valiant stare.
Six young men stood before,
The big machine, now somehow small.
There to walk desire’s line,
And dare not miss a beat in time.
Genevieve, I love it! There are so many great references in there to scenes in the movie. Now I really want to watch it again. I especially like the line “To see beyond what once thought true.” Very cool. Your poetry is always so creative and about so many different subjects. I always find myself hovering around the same three subjects.
I found this many years ago on the first page of a book. It was so simple and real that it struck me. I lost it, but recently found it again so I thought I would share it with you. Have you heard of it before?
Desiderata”
You are a child of the universe.
No less than the trees and the stars, you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
No doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life,
Keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
Be careful. Strive to be happy.
-Unknown
I would love to see you try to publish original poems from bloggers. Like this one from Genevieve. Very cool poem by the way. Put a collection together and print a book. I don’t know what that would entail but it would be pretty cool to see your own creations published. I might even be encouraged to try my hand with a pen.
Right on! I’d love to do something like that too. Or even reprint those poems that you discovered from the early 1900’s.
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