Life poems
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Auson[ius]
© Richard Lovelace
AUSON[IUS].
Toxica zelotypo dedit uxor maecha marito,
Nec satis ad mortem credidit esse datum;
Miscuit argenti lethalia pondera vivi,
The Everlasting Mercy
© John Masefield
Thy place is biggyd above the sterrys cleer,
Noon erthely paleys wrouhte in so statly wyse,
Com on my freend, my brothir moost enteer,
For the I offryd my blood in sacrifise.
John Lydgate.
Death In Life
© Madison Julius Cawein
Within my veins it beats
And burns within my brain;
For when the year is sad and sear
I dream the dream again.
Sibylline
© Madison Julius Cawein
THERE is a glory in the apple boughs
Of silver moonlight; like a torch of myrrh,
Second Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
The clouds that wrap the setting sun
When Autumn's softest gleams are ending,
Sea Fever
© John Masefield
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 the white sail's shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea's face, and a gray dawn breaking.
Opifex
© Edward Thomas
As I was carving images from clouds,
And tinting them with soft ethereal dyes
Pressed from the pulp of dreams, one comes, and cries:--
"Forbear!" and all my heaven with gloom enshrouds.
The Nevermore
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Mark me, how still I am! But should there dart
One moment through my soul the soft surprise
Of that winged Peace which lulls the breath of sighs,--
Then shalt thou see me smile, and turn apart
Thy visage to mine ambush at thy heart
Sleepless with cold commemorative eyes.
Pain
© Edward Thomas
The Man that hath great griefs I pity not;
Tis something to be great
In any wise, and hint the larger state,
Though but in shadow of a shade, God wot!
Exchange
© Vlanes (Vladislav Nekliaev)
Today your things depart. Your faience cup
fell off the table at sunrise and cracked.
Your old grey dog did not come up
the stairs. I went to look for him, he had died
in the long grass, near your library,
under your favourite mango-tree.
In November (2)
© Archibald Lampman
With loitering step and quiet eye,
Beneath the low November sky,
I wandered in the woods, and found
A clearing, where the broken ground
Run And Won
© Vlanes (Vladislav Nekliaev)
When you entered the workshop, I was already here.
How many statues, and torsos, and heads !
Like remains of the battle that never ends.
I am giggling into my beard. Wind's fluffy plume
is struggling with the curtain. I know you can hear
both, not becoming distinct, no matter for whom.
Eight Epitaphs
© Vlanes (Vladislav Nekliaev)
You liked your scrolls ? Here they are.
The manuscript of your book ? Here it is.
Your wine and figs ? Here they are.
The portrait of your wife ? Here it is.
Your garden and your house ? Here they are.
The box you never opened ? Here it is.
Wreath Of Sonnets
© Vlanes (Vladislav Nekliaev)
And if sometimes they happen to perform
Some droning dance which smells of here and now,
With springing forms and circles staying warm,
They start to tremble on a pointed prow
Of universe and dream of their home
In whirls destroying leaves to leave a bough.
First Letter
© Vlanes (Vladislav Nekliaev)
We crossed to the other side, the burgee of the boat
ceased flapping and lagged behind like a dead wing.
The visible air seemed neither cold nor hot,
the violet clouds flew past us, scurrying.
The plain was dark, and the mountain was tall,
and the echo swallowed the boatman's call.
The Passing Of Arthur
© Alfred Tennyson
That story which the bold Sir Bedivere,
First made and latest left of all the knights,
Told, when the man was no more than a voice
In the white winter of his age, to those
With whom he dwelt, new faces, other minds.
Ode (From The Gaelic)
© George Borrow
Is luaimnach mo chodal an nochd.
Oh restless, to night, are my slumbers;
Genesis BK III
© Caedmon
(ll. 135-143) The day departed, hasting over the dwellings of
earth. And after the gleaming light the Lord, our maker, thrust
on the first of evenings. Murky gloom pressed hard upon the
heels of day; God called it night. Our Lord sundered them, one
from the other; and ever since they follow out the will of God to
do it on the earth.
Sonnets XLIX: L: LI: LII: Willowwood
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
I
I sat with Love upon a woodside well,
