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I was alone with a chair on a plain
Which lost itself in an empty horizon.
The plain was flawlessly paved.
The room is full of you!-As I came in
And closed the door behind me, all at once
A something in the air, intangible,
Yet stiff with meaning, struck my senses sick!-
Edna St. Vincent Millay
No love is comparable to mother's love
Inspiration when life becomes tough
Mother's love is unconditional and eternal
Sacrificial lamb for the child
I Won My Love
Looking at the bright side of her life
There was unending blossomic love
She's not alone anymore not lovelorned
She found every creature is teaching her
Summer comes with beautiful scenery,
Mother Earth shed her dress to turn green,
Flowers bloom to bear fruits to
Lose Her beauty in time.
My Queen Of December
She moved my world with her sword,
She used to carve word by word.
She became the only name I heard,
She was the ocean, the stars I adored.
If We But Knew
If we but knew the weary way,
The poisoned paths of hostile hate,
The roughened roads of fiercest fate,
Through which our brother's journey lay,
Freeman E. Miller
Summer pleasures they are gone like to visions every one
And the cloudy days of autumn and of winter cometh on
I tried to call them back but unbidden they are gone
Far away from heart and eye and for ever far away
Come To Me
Come to me,
Stranger's winds blowing coming towards me very badly,
Giving me always the sense of coming to me,
The feeling is calling to you in every way,
To A Bird At Dawn
O bird that somewhere yonder sings,
In the dim hour 'twixt dreams and dawn,
Lone in the hush of sleeping things,
In some sky sanctuary withdrawn;
Richard Le Gallienne
D E A T H
Death is but a second stage
Sanctified by God for eternal bliss.
A stage in paradise with a dulcet slumber,
That everyone get ere the judgement.
Addressed to Francis Greenleaf Allison of Burlington, New Jersey.
You scarcely need my tardy thanks,
Who, self-rewarded, nurse and tend--
John Greenleaf Whittier
I ask not that my bed of death
From bands of greedy heirs be free;
For these besiege the latest breath
Of fortune's favoured sons, not me.
Venus And Adonis
Even as the sun with purple-coloured face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheeked Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laughed to scorn.
Lorsque, par un dÃ©cret des puissances suprÃªmes,
Le PoÃ¨te apparaÃ®t en ce monde ennuyÃ©,
Sa mÃ¨re Ã©pouvantÃ©e et pleine de blasphÃ¨mes
Crispe ses poings vers Dieu, qui la prend en pitiÃ©:
It was deep night, and over Jerusalem's low roofs
The moon floated, drifting through high vaporous woofs.
The moonlight crept and glistened silent, solemn, sweet,
Over dome and column, up empty, endless street;
Dim, as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars
To lonely, weary, wand'ring travellers,
Is reason to the soul; and as on high,
Those rolling fires discover but the sky
Before The Sun
MIDST OF A SNOW COVERED FIELD,
WITH WHITE FLOWERS, GLEAMING IN A FAINT LIGHT,
I STAND, WITH COMPLETE PEACE,
AND ETERNAL SOLITUDE.
Mamua, when our laughter ends,
And hearts and bodies, brown as white,
Are dust about the doors of friends,
Or scent ablowing down the night,
I was not; now I am-a few days hence
I shall not be; I fain would look before
And after, but can neither do; some Power
Or lack of power says “no” to all I would.
Paul Laurence Dunbar
AMONG deep woods is the dismantled scite
Of an old Abbey, where the chaunted rite,
By twice ten brethren of the monkish cowl,
Was duly sung; and requiems for the soul
Absalom And Achitophel
In pious times, ere priest-craft did begin,
Before polygamy was made a sin;
When man, on many, multipli'd his kind,
Ere one to one was cursedly confin'd:
I am the family face;
Flesh perishes, I live on,
Projecting trait and trace
Through time to times anon,
Serene, I fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,
For lo! my own shall come to me.
To Think Of Time
To think of time, of all that retrospection!
To think of to-day, and the ages continued henceforward!
Have you guess'd you yourself would not continue?
Trees in groves,
Kine in droves,
In ocean sport the scaly herds,
Wedge-like cleave the air the birds,
Ralph Waldo Emerson
O day most calm, most bright
The fruit of this, the next world's bud,
Th'endorsement of supreme delight,
Writ by a friend, and with his blood;
Beauty And Files
I don't know what is the vice I 'er own
Yet, forbidden stars'-light can't shed my light
Mine own is all too heavy, I swen
So a ministerial marked the school
ROSE-CHEEK'D Laura, come;
Sing thou smoothly with thy beauty's
Silent music, either other
It was mysterious the whole thing 'gain
So what can it be? 'Twas pretty before,
For, so a masted boat 'er sails the deep;
Never a villain wins, said "'Er be sure "