you tell her that she's beautifulShe laughs and asks you how,When theres a crack on her front tooth,And all short nails which she bit from getting nervous ,And when she closes her eyes and laughs how her eyebrows become wavy,In her slightly potatoish nose,And you wonder where she learnt that beauty lies upon your skin and outer appearance so that she thinks it covers, everything she holds within,But she let's her mirror and society estimate her worth, which breaks my heartShe doesn't know how many life's she made better just by smilingBy simply being on this earth
Sometimes I feel like giving upBecause there isn't anything left for meBut thenThere is this one personWho makes me feel better about myselfWho makes me smile even when I want to tear someone's head apartBut he doesn't know thatHow much he makes me happySometimes I want to run awayBut I can't
Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave,Let me once know.I sought thee in a secret cave,And ask'd, if Peace were there,A hollow wind did seem to answer, No:Go seek elsewhere.I did; and going did a rainbow note:Surely, thought I,This is the lace of Peace's coat:I will search out the matter.But while I looked the clouds immediatelyDid break and scatter.Then went I to a garden and did spyA gallant flower,The crown-imperial: Sure, said I,
Nature -- the Gentlest Mother is,Impatient of no Child --The feeblest -- or the waywardest --Her Admonition mild --In Forest -- and the Hill --By Traveller -- be heard --Restraining Rampant Squirrel --Or too impetuous Bird --How fair Her Conversation --A Summer Afternoon --Her Household -- Her Assembly --And when the Sun go down --Her Voice among the AislesIncite the timid prayerOf the minutest Cricket --The most unworthy Flower --
If faithful souls be alike glorifiedAs angels, then my fathers soul doth see,And adds this even to full felicity,That valiantly I hells wide mouth o'erstride:But if our minds to these souls be descriedBy circumstances, and by signs that beApparent in us, not immediately,How shall my mind's white truth by them be tried?They see idolatrous lovers weep and mourn,And vile blasphemous conjurers to callOn Jesus name, and PharisaicalDissemblers feigne devotion. Then turn,O pensive soul, to God, for he knows bestThy true grief, for he put it in my breast.