Very nice! Could do with some universal sun!:)
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Well done Mossy I was wondering who would spot that :o
Its an extract from a bigger piece of work 'To Jane: The Invitation' (his friend Jane Williams) and I was a bit clumsy where I cut it. I wanted the Pale Year line in but it needed a rhyming line with it, unfortunately that rhyming line was linked to an earlier one which I had missed. :D Here it is in full anyway.
The Invitation
Best and brightest, come away!
Fairer far than this fair Day,
Which, like thee to those in sorrow,
Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow
To the rough Year just awake
In its cradle on the brake.
The brightest hour of unborn Spring,
Through the winter wandering,
Found, it seems, the halcyon Morn
To hoar February born.
Bending from heaven, in azure mirth,
It kiss'd the forehead of the Earth;
And smiled upon the silent sea;
And bade the frozen streams be free;
And waked to music all their fountains;
And breathed upon the frozen mountains;
And like a prophetess of May
Strew'd flowers upon the barren way,
Making the wintry world appear
Like one on whom thou smilest, dear.
Away, away, from men and towns,
To the wild wood and the downs-
To the silent wilderness
Where the soul need not repress
Its music lest it should not find
An echo in another's mind,
While the touch of Nature's art
Harmonizes heart to heart.
I leave this notice on my door
For each accustom'd visitor:-
'I am gone into the fields
To take what this sweet hour yields.
Reflection, you may come to-morrow;
Sit by the fireside with Sorrow.
You with the unpaid bill, Despair,-
You, tiresome verse-reciter, Care,-
I will pay you in the grave,-
Death will listen to your stave.
Expectation too, be off!
To-day is for itself enough.
Hope, in pity mock not Woe
With smiles, nor follow where I go;
Long having lived on your sweet food,
At length I find one moment's good
After long pain: with all your love,
This you never told me of.'
Radiant Sister of the Day,
Awake! arise! and come away!
To the wild woods and the plains;
And the pools where winter rains
Image all their roof of leaves;
Where the pine its garland weaves
Of sapless green and ivy dun
Round stems that never kiss the sun;
Where the lawns and pastures be,
And the sandhills of the sea;
Where the melting hoar-frost wets
The daisy-star that never sets,
And wind-flowers, and violets
Which yet join not scent to hue,
Crown the pale year weak and new;
When the night is left behind
In the deep east, dun and blind,
And the blue noon is over us,
And the multitudinous
Billows murmur at our feet
Where the earth and ocean meet,
And all things seem only one
In the universal sun.
May as well give one of his more famous poems another airing on this thread. I only found out recently that Ozymandias is another name for Ramesses II :cool:
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 shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked 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
Hi all
I am still very much enjoying the thread but having started a major bit of training am struggling to keep up at times! Hes I thought your verse was great.
I read this poem today and it made the hairs on my back stand up....
Nothing
Cynthia Huntington
These days practising how to be
without a body. Most often after love
on hot summer nights, when I feel
most alone-not sad, but luminous,
my soul glowing cool as radium-then
when I feel most brave, I start to climb
the night air, like treading water and
think about nothing substantial,
losing everything but still secured
in this darkfull world. Doing without
all that, beat upon beat, I practice
not hearing my heart, not breathing.
And there are still long grasses,
the tides folding and unfolding, still
the ocean, day and night, and leaves
opening, dinners at a small table with
white candles, fruit and meat.
There is still living and dying and I
have not left you or gone away. I am still
beside you in the dark when you ask
"What are you thinking?" and I tell you:
"Nothing".
Really love the poem Freckle! (also the comments after :wink: )