Thanks HHH...Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
And here he's (Coleridge that is), have a different perspective...more companionable, perhaps.
From The Rime of the Acient Mariner
The moving Moon went up the sky.
And nowhere did abide;
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside-
By Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)
Am Yisrael Chai
Sounds like a description of myself at the moment!
Yes, what a tease!ha ha - just saved the moon reference to the very very end.
Am Yisrael Chai
Yes, what a tease!
Old Age! You are the youngest here!beautiful...i am getting a taste for shelley in my old age....
HHH...yes that earlier poem does look a bit drug induced now you come to mention it!
He does have a way with words though....
My soul is an enchanted boat,
Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float
Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing;
And thine doth like an angel sit
Beside a helm conducting it,
Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing.
It seems to float ever, for ever,
Upon that many-winding river,
Between mountains, woods, abysses,
A paradise of wildernesses!
Till, like one in slumber bound,
Borne to the ocean, I float down, around,
Into a sea profound, of ever-spreading sound:
Meanwhile thy spirit lifts its pinions
In music's most serene dominions;
Catching the winds that fan that happy heaven.
And we sail on, away, afar,
Without a course, without a star,
But, by the instinct of sweet music driven;
Till through Elysian garden islets
By thee, most beautiful of pilots,
Where never mortal pinnace glided,
The boat of my desire is guided:
Realms where the air we breathe is love,
Which in the winds and on the waves doth move,
Harmonizing this earth with what we feel above.
We have past Age's icy caves,
And Manhood's dark and tossing waves,
And Youth's smooth ocean, smiling to betray:
Beyond the glassy gulfs we flee
Of shadow-peopled Infancy,
Through Death and Birth, to a diviner day;
A paradise of vaulted bowers,
Lit by downward-gazing flowers,
And watery paths that wind between
Wildernesses calm and green,
Peopled by shapes too bright to see,
And rest, having beheld; somewhat like thee;
Which walk upon the sea, and chant melodiously!
Percy Bysshe Shelley
off his heed!
Oh no MG. Take heart from Christina (well sort of!)Sounds like a description of myself at the moment!
THE HALF MOON SHOWS
A FACE OF PLAINTIVE SWEETNESS
The half moon shows a face of plaintive sweetness
Ready and poised to wax or wane;
A fire of pale desire in incompleteness,
Tending to pleasure or to pain:-
Lo, while we gaze she rolleth on in fleetness
To perfect loss or perfect gain.
Half bitterness we know, we know half sweetness;
This world is all on wax, on wane:
When shall completeness round time's incompleteness,
Fulfilling joy, fulfilling pain?-
Lo, while we ask, life rolleth on in fleetness
To finished loss or finished gain.
By Christina Rossetti
Am Yisrael Chai
Old Age! You are the youngest here!
He does have a way with words though....
My soul is an enchanted boat,
Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float
Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing;
And thine doth like an angel sit
Beside a helm conducting it,
Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing.
It seems to float ever, for ever,
Upon that many-winding river,
Between mountains, woods, abysses,
A paradise of wildernesses!
Till, like one in slumber bound,
Borne to the ocean, I float down, around,
Into a sea profound, of ever-spreading sound:
Meanwhile thy spirit lifts its pinions
In music's most serene dominions;
Catching the winds that fan that happy heaven.
And we sail on, away, afar,
Without a course, without a star,
But, by the instinct of sweet music driven;
Till through Elysian garden islets
By thee, most beautiful of pilots,
Where never mortal pinnace glided,
The boat of my desire is guided:
Realms where the air we breathe is love,
Which in the winds and on the waves doth move,
Harmonizing this earth with what we feel above.
We have past Age's icy caves,
And Manhood's dark and tossing waves,
And Youth's smooth ocean, smiling to betray:
Beyond the glassy gulfs we flee
Of shadow-peopled Infancy,
Through Death and Birth, to a diviner day;
A paradise of vaulted bowers,
Lit by downward-gazing flowers,
And watery paths that wind between
Wildernesses calm and green,
Peopled by shapes too bright to see,
And rest, having beheld; somewhat like thee;
Which walk upon the sea, and chant melodiously!
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Wow!...that's just awesome...so soothing...i reckon if david ginola or some other hunk read that out loud to me I might actually drift off to sleep...or am i just weird? (don't answer that!)
PS I have now got to write out xmas cards for 25 three year olds...now if ever there was a frustrating and pointless task then that is it!....never mind this thread is a beautiful distraction
Hunks and poetry send you to sleep thenWow!...that's just awesome...so soothing...i reckon if david ginola or some other hunk read that out loud to me I might actually drift off to sleep...or am i just weird? (don't answer that!)
I absolutely refuse to comment!Wow!...that's just awesome...so soothing...i reckon if david ginola or some other hunk read that out loud to me I might actually drift off to sleep...or am i just weird? (don't answer that!)
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