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In This Land
What can be said of this land
With my people threading on it
It has become a wailing land
Life is born and given away
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
Where and what is silence ?
In the stillness of nature,
In the dark night with the glowing moon,
In the cold grave,
In the room we stood
Silent: The room was confined in a grave
Faced each other
We made no moves
Michael: A Pastoral Poem
If from the public way you turn your steps
Up the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll,
You will suppose that with an upright path
Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent
There Was A Boy
There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs
And islands of Winander! many a time,
At evening, when the earliest stars began
To move along the edges of the hills,
Mon Reve Familier [english]
Oft do I dream this strange and penetrating dream:
An unknown woman, whom I love, who loves me well,
Who does not every time quite change, nor yet quite dwell
The same,-and loves me well, and knows me as I am.
“While I sit at the door
Sick to gaze within
Mine eye weepeth sore
For sorrow and sin:
All the striving, all the failing,
To the silent Nothing sailing.
Swiftly, swiftly passing by!
For the land of shadows leaving,
How old I was ?
Only my mum has an answer
Farewell to poverty
When I'm Killed
When I'm killed, don't think of me
Buried there in Cambrin Wood,
Nor as in Zion think of me
With the Intolerable Good.
In The Garden
Aylmer's Garden, near the Lake. LAURENCE RABY and ESTELLE.
Come to the bank where the boat is moor'd to the willow-tree low;
Adam Lindsay Gordon
For failure I was well equipped
And should have come to grief,
By atavism grimly gripped,
A fool beyond belief.
Auguries Of Innocence
To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.
Roses red and roses white
Plucked I for my love's delight.
She would none of all my posies--
Bade me gather her blue roses.
Where run your colts at pasture?
Where hide your mares to breed?
'Mid bergs about the Ice-cap
Or wove Sargasso weed;
Small, shapeless drifts of cloud
Sail slowly northward in the soft-hued sky,
With blur half-tints and rolling summits bright,
By the late sun caressed; slight hazes shroud
Two Old Houses
Away from mismatched buildings which seems to go on above the 7th heaven with perfect shape and structure yet with poorest enlightenment, there is a pretty yet petty little small town at the edge of the waters.
Away from cold hearts handling warm coffee sitting in crisp winter air, there is a town with warm hearts handling cold coffee in peaceful summer air.
A bit too far away from here in that pretty little town, there is a street with perfect enlightenment and finally in that street, there stands two houses proudly facing each other since 1987.
One house Is bold white and the other one is dull black with same structure, same kind of tulips in their garden which sway slightly in the same air as they nod each other greetings in the morning.
A Befitting Send-off
Brothers, carry out the autopsy gently
That corpse was a rich man's residence
The carcass was never an ordinary body
To be hacked and dug upon
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.
Alone, alone! - no other face
Wears kindred smile, kindred line;
And yet they say my mother's eyes.
They say my father's brow, is mine;
Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Addressed to Francis Greenleaf Allison of Burlington, New Jersey.
You scarcely need my tardy thanks,
Who, self-rewarded, nurse and tend--
John Greenleaf Whittier
My mother she had children five and four are dead and gone;
While I, least worthy to survive, persist in living on.
She looks at me, I must confess, sometimes with spite and bitterness.
I shall bury my weary Love
Beneath a tree,
In the forest tall and black
Where none can see.
When Faith and Love which parted from thee never,
Had ripen'd thy just soul to dwell with God,
On the white throat of the' useless passion
That scorched my soul with its burning breath
I clutched my fingers in murderous fashion,
And gathered them close in a grip of death;
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
The Soldier's Grave
Breathe not a whisper here;
The place where thou dost stand is hallowed ground;
In silence gather near this upheaved mound -
Around the soldier's bier.
When I am all alone
Envy me most,
Then my thoughts flutter round me
In a glimmering host;
Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
W. H. Auden
Anoche, estando solo y ya medio dormido,
mis sueÃ±os de otras Ã©pocas se me han aparecido.
Los sueÃ±os de esperanzas, de glorias, de alegrÃas
Jose Asuncion Silva
A Mother's Wail
The sweet young Spring walks over the earth,
It flushes and glows on moor and lea;
The birds are singing in careless mirth,
The brook flows cheerily on to the sea;
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Away thou fondling motley humorist,
Leave mee, and in this standing woodden chest,
Consorted with these few bookes, let me lye
In prison, and here be coffin'd, when I dye;