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Pet Portraits - Dogs, Cats and Animals Painted by Isabel Clark - Poems Assorted

Pet Portraits - Dogs, Cats and all Animals painted in Oils or Watercolours - Assorted Poems

Pet Portraits of Dogs, Cats & Animals in oils on canvas or watercolours

by Isabel Clark Paintings Make Very Special Gifts or Cards

 

Assorted Poems

 

Lucy Gray or Solitude

Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray:
And, when I crossed the wild,
I chanced to see at break of day
The solitary child.

No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
She dwelt on the wide moor,
- The sweetest thing that ever grew
Beside a human door!

You yet may spy the fawn at play,
The hare upon the green;
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.

'Tonight will be a stormy night -
You to the town must go;
And take a lantern, Child, to light
Your mother through the snow.'

'That father! will I gladly do:
Tis scarcely afternoon -
The minster-clock has just struck two,
And yonder is the moon!'

At this the Father raised his hook,
And snapped a faggot-band;
He plied his work; - and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand.

Not blither is the mountain roe:
With many a wanton stroke
Her feet disperse the powdery snow,
That rises up like smoke.

The storm came on before its time:
She wandered up and down;
And many a hill did Lucy climb:
But never reached the town.

The wretched parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide;
But there was neither sound nor sight
To serve them for a guide.

At day-break on a hill they stood
That overlooked the moor
And thence they saw the bridge of wood,
A furlong from their door.

They wept - and, turning homeward, cried,
"In heaven we all shall meet;"
- When in the snow the mother spied
The print of Lucy's feet.

Then downwards from the steep hill's edge
They tracked the footmarks small;
And through the broken hawthorn hedge,
And by the long stone-wall;

And then an open field they crossed:
The marks were still the same;
They tracked them on, nor ever lost;
And to the bridge they came.

They followed from the snowy bank
Those footmarks, one by one,
Into the middle of the plank;
And further there were none!

- Yet some maintain that to this day
She is a living child;
That you may see sweet Lucy Gray
Upon the lonesome wild.

O'er rough and smooth she trips along,
and never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind.

William Wordsworth 1770-1850

 

Coronach

He is gone on the mountain,
He is lost to the forest,
Like a summer-dried fountain,
When our need was the sorest.
The font, reappearing,
From the rain-drops shall borrow,
But to us comes no cheering,
To Duncan no morrow!

The hand of the reaper
Takes the ears that are hoary,
But the voice of the weeper
Wails manhood in glory.
The autumn winds rushing
Waft the leaves that are searest,
But our flower was in flushing,
When blighting was nearest.

Fleet foot on the corrie,
Sage counsel in cumber,
Red hand in the foray,
How sound is thy slumber!
Like the dew on the mountain,
Like the foam on the river,
Like the bubble on the fountain,
Thou art gone, and for ever!

Sir Walter Scott

 

Footsteps

One night a man had a dream that he was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Across the sky flashed scenes from his life. For each scene, he noticed two sets
of footprints in the sand; one belonging to him, the other belonging to the Lord.

When the last scene of his life flashed before him,
he looked back at the footprints in the sand.
He noticed that many times along the path of his life there was only one set of footprints,
and that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in his life.

This really bothered him and he questioned the Lord about it.
"Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way.
But during the most troublesome times in my life, there is only one set of footprints.
I don't understand why, when I needed you most, you would leave me."

The Lord replied, "My precious, precious child. I love you, and I would never
leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of
footprints, it was then that I carried you."

Author Unknown at the moment

 

The Minstrel Boy

The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him;
His father's sword he has girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him.-
"Land of song!" said the warrior-bard,
"Though all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"
The Minstrel fell! - but the foeman's chain
Could not bring his proud soul under;
The harp he loved ne'er spoke again,
for he tore its chords asunder;
And said, "No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and bravery!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free,
They shall never sound in slavery."

Thomas Moore 1779 - 1852

 

Break, Break, Break

Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O well for the fisherman's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.

Alfred Lord Tennyson - 1809 - 1892

 

Remember

Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned;
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.

Christina Georgina Rossetti 1830 - 1894

 

Song

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet:
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

Christina Georgina Rossetti 1830 - 1894

 

Sea Fever

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

John Masefield 1878 - 1967

 

Do not go gentle into that good night

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.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas 1914 - 1953

 

The Rent Man

Through the dirty, floral curtains,
Passed the dustbins on the right,
The worn-down mother looks to see
If he's anywhere in sight.

She has no money to pay him
And her tired eyes watch in fear
For signs of the Rent Man coming
Or the sound of his steps getting near.

Creeping back to the kitchen,
She slumps down onto the floor.
She hears him now, on the doorstep,
But still jumps when he bangs on the door.

Please go away, she silently pleads,
As he knocks on her door in vain.
"I know you're there," he calls. "Open up."
And her baby starts crying again.

"You owe three weeks." He shouts again.
"Don't think that I'll stop trying."
The desolate woman quietly shakes,
To the sound of her young child's crying.

F. Clark 1946

 

Remember Me

Remember me as you pass by.
As you are now, so once was I.
As I am now, so will you be.
Prepare yourself to follow me.

 Author Unknown

 

The Irish Emigrant

I'm sitting on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat, side by side,
That bright May morning long ago
When first you were my bride.
The corn was springing fresh and green
And the lark sang loud and high,
The red was on your lip, Mary,
The love-light in your eye.

The place is little changed, Mary,
The day is bright as then,
The lark's loud song is in my ear,
The corn is green again;
But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,
Your breath warm on my cheek,
And I still keep list'ning for the words
You never more may speak.

'Tis but a step down yonder lane,
The little Church stands near -
The Church where we were wed, Mary -
I see the spire from here;
But the graveyard lies between, Mary -
My step might break your rest -
Where you, my darling, lie asleep
With your baby on your breast.

I'm very lonely now, Mary -
The poor make no new friends -
But, oh, they love the better still
The few our Father sends.
And you were all I had, Mary,
There's nothing left to care for now,
Since my poor Mary died.

Yours was a good brave heart, Mary,
That still kept hoping on,
When trust in God had left my soul,
And half my strength was gone.
There was comfort ever on your lip,
And the kind look on your brow,
I bless you, Mary, for that same,
Though you can't hear me now.

I thank you for the patient smile
When your heart was fit to break;
When the hunger pain was gnawing there
You hid it for my sake!
I bless you for the pleasant word,
When your heart was sad and sore.
Oh! I'm thankful you are gone, Mary,
Where grief can't reach you more.

I'm bidding you a long farewell,
My Mary - kind and true!
But I'll not forget you, darling,
In the land I'm going to.
They say there's bread and work for all,
And the sun shines always there;
But I'll not forget old Ireland,
Were it fifty times as fair!

And when amid those grand old woods
I sit and shut my eyes,
My heart will travel back again
To where my Mary lies;
I'll think I see the little stile
Where we sat, side by side,
And the springing corn and bright May morn,
When first you were my bride.

The Countess of Dufferin

 

Desiderata

(Things to be desired)

Go placidly amid the noise and haste and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly and listen to others.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself to others, you may become vain and bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself,
you are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and stars;
You have a right to be here.
And, whether it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore, be at peace with God.
With all it's sham, drudgery and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be careful.
Strive to be happy.

An extract from a plaque found in Old Saint Paul's Church, Baltimore dated 1692

 

"Don't Quit"

When things go wrong as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high
and you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit
Rest if you must, but don't you quit.
 
Success is failure turned inside out,
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt
But you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems afar,
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit.
It's when things go wrong that you mustn't quit.

(Author Unknown)

 

When Earth's Last Picture is Painted

When Earth's last picture is painted
And the tubes are twisted and dried
When the oldest colors have faded
And the youngest critic has died
We shall rest, and faith, we shall need it
Lie down for an aeon or two
'Till the Master of all good workmen
Shall put us to work anew
And those that were good shall be happy
They'll sit in a golden chair
They'll splash at a ten league canvas
With brushes of comet's hair
They'll find real saints to draw from
Magdalene, Peter, and Paul
They'll work for an age at a sitting
And never be tired at all.
And only the Master shall praise us.
And only the Master shall blame.
And no one will work for the money.
No one will work for the fame.
But each for the joy of the working,
And each, in his separate star,
Will draw the thing as he sees it.
For the God of things as they are!

Rudyard Kipling

 

Ozymandias

I MET a traveller from an antique land,
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

Pet Portraits of Dogs, Cats & Animals in oils on canvas or watercolours

by Isabel Clark Paintings Make Very Special Gifts or Cards

Contact Name and Address:-

Isabel Clark - Proprietor, 24 Goodman Way, Tile Hill Village, Coventry  CV4 9UF England - Tel: 024 76462885

Have you ever been bored by the usual Greeting cards?

Then click on the following link 

www.VillageArt.co.uk 

and order a unique one created by Isabel Clark

Bespoke Greeting Cards, stationery & Prints are also available on the above website

 

Paintings of Horses and Ponies Paintings of People Pencil Study Portraits
Frequently Asked Questions The Artist's Pets GIFT VOUCHERS

 

Animal  Poems Nature  Poems England  Poems Message  Poems

I just need  a CLEAR photo of your pet dogs, cats, ponies, horses, birds or any other pet animals, persons or places,

to create a unique and special gift.

If you do not have any clear, close up photos of your pet, take some NOW.

If your pet has sadly died and it is too late to take any clear photos I will willingly look at your photo and let you know if it is clear enough. I love my pet portrait work, but one of the saddest aspects is where an old pet has died and the owner has no clear photo to remember their friend by, or, indeed, to create a pet portrait memorial to their lost one. So take those pictures now, even if you do not yet decide on a painting of your pet.

The happiest aspect of my work is when my client has received their pet portrait and telephone or write to let me know how delighted they are in spite of the tears over their lost friend. I have so many lovely letters telling me how the portrait of their pet is now taking pride of place in their home, and how they feel their pet's spirit is still with them whenever they gaze at the painting. So do not hesitate. Order your pet portrait painting today.  You will be so glad you did.

Children or any person or pet can be painted into the scene, even if they were not in that particular photo. Many things are possible. If you have a special request, just ask. If it is possible it can be done.

So, if you have no CLEAR photos, get clicking and send your favourite photo to me for that dog painting, cat painting, animal painting, or landscape painting. You will be delighted with the result.

Pet dogs, cats, animals or any child or adult can be painted into the scene, even if they were not in that particular photo. Many things are possible. If you have a special request, just ask. If it is possible it can be done.

We should all value our historical houses be they palaces, farmhouses or cottages, they are our links to our past, but sadly, many are being allowed to deteriorate beyond any repair. It would be a poorer world with no physical reminders of our ancestors presence. Whenever, I get the opportunity I am out painting and capturing little corners of this England onto canvas or watercolour paper.

We should have much tougher laws against the pollution of our rivers and fields, and stricter laws to protect pressured animals and green spaces.

Imagine a world with only one creature, the human being. What a dreadful place that would be. We must all do our best to alleviate some of the harm man has done to this world and its animal inhabitants. One way is to enforce planning controls for new human dwellings, office blocks and factories that are sympathetic to the natural environment.

The welfare of this Earth's wild creatures is something I feel very passionately about. We have done so much harm to these fellow residents of our planet, who, of course, have as much right to exist as humanity. Wild animals, including the smallest insect have no less right to live out their natural lifespan as ourselves.

We should not attempt to turn all their wild habitats into pretty parks for just our enjoyment. Nature is wild and beautiful in its wildness. Wild animals need to be wild and free and people can find enjoyment in this too.

We cannot turn this, still beautiful, Earth into a controlled, barren environment for the convenience of just one of this world's creatures, ourselves. We can help these animals in many ways, such as not mowing every piece of wild meadow near our towns. No voles, hawks or butterflies can exist on a lawn. These animals need the shelter of tall grasses to hide in and to feed from. Where there are no hiding places, there are no wild creatures. Where the grass is mown no wild flowers can flourish. However, with a little goodwill on our part it is amazing how quickly Mother Nature heals her wounds.

Remember the warm days of summer as, during the cold days of winter, you gaze at your painting of your sunny garden and home.

If  you want a really unusual and special gift for a pet or animal lover for Christmas, Birthdays, Thanksgiving, Easter, Anniversaries, Retirements, Presentations or any other celebration, a portrait of a beloved pet is always a unique and very welcome gift. Whether it is a dog painting, cat painting, horse painting, wild animal painting, bird painting, child or adult human painting or a painting of someone's home and garden, it will bring delight and surprise to the recipient.

Pet Portraits of  Special Pets make Special Gifts
Isabel Clark's Pet Portraits of Special Pets make very Special Gifts

Pet Portraits of Dogs, Cats, Animals, Wildlife, People, Landscape Paintings & Greeting Cards created from Your Own Photos

Death is the liberator of him whom freedom cannot release,
the physician of him whom medicine cannot cure,
and the comforter of him whom time cannot console.
- Charles Caleb Colton -

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