Who Ever Loved, That Loved Not at First Sight

 

It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin,
We wish that one should love, the other win;
And one especially do we affect
Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:
The reason no man knows, let it suffice,
What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?

 

 

"Who Ever Loved, That Loved Not at First Sight"
Christopher Marlowe

The Forest Glade

 

As one dark morn I trod a forest glade,
     A sunbeam entered at the further end,
And ran to meet me through the yielding shade —
     As one who in the distance sees a friend,
And smiling, hurries to him; but mine eyes,
     Bewilder'd by the change from dark to bright,
Received the greeting with a quick surprise
     At first, and then with tears of pure delight;
For sad my thoughts had been, — the tempest's wrath
     Had gloom'd the night, and made the morrow gray;
That heavenly guidance humble sorrow hath,
     Had turn'd my feet into that forest way,
Just when His morning light came down the path,
     Among the lonely woods at early day.

 

"The Forest Glade"
Charles Tennyson Turner

The Pagan

 

SO HERE are you, and here am I,
    Where we may thank our gods to be;
Above the earth, beneath the sky,
    Naked souls alive and free.
The autumn wind goes rustling by
    And stirs the stubble at our feet;
        Out of the west it whispering blows,
        Stops to caress and onward goes,
    Bringing its earthy odours sweet.
See with what pride the the setting sun
    Kinglike in gold and purple dies,
And like a robe of rainbow spun
Tinges the earth with shades divine.
    That mystic light is in your eyes
And ever in your heart will shine.

 

"The Pagan"
George Orwell

Fairest Maid on Devon Banks

 

Fairest maid on Devon banks,
Crystal Devon, winding Devon,
Wilt thou lay that frown aside,
And smile as thou were wont to do?
Full well thou know’st I love thee, dear!
Could’st thou to malice lend an ear!
O! did not love exclaim “Forbear,
Nor use a faithful lover so.”

Then come, thou fairest of the fair,
Those wonted smiles, O let me share;
And by thy beauteous self I swear,
No love but thine my heart shall know.
Fairest maid on Devon banks,
Crystal Devon, winding Devon,
Wilt thou lay that frown aside,
And smile as thou were wont to do?

 

"Fairest Maid on Devon Banks"
Robert Burns

Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night

 

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

"Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night"
Dylan Thomas

Tame Cat

 

"It rests me to be among beautiful women.

Why should one always lie about such matters?

 

I repeat:

It rests me to converse with beautiful women

Even though we talk nothing but nonsense,

 

The purring of the invisible antennæ

Is both stimulating and delightful."

 

"Tame Cat"
Ezra Pound

A Lament

O world! O life! O time!
On whose last steps I climb,
Trembling at that where I had stood before;
When will return the glory of your prime?
No more -- Oh, never more!

Out of the day and night
A joy has taken flight;
Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar,
Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight
No more -- Oh, never more!

"A Lament"
Percy Bysshe Shelley

Forgive and Forget

"Forgive--forget! I own the wrong!"

You fondly sigh'd when last I met you;

The task is neither hard nor long--

I do forgive--I will forget you!

"Forgive and Forget"
Frances Sargent Osgood

The Palm and the Pine

In the far North stands a Pine-tree, lone,
Upon a wintry height;
It sleeps: around it snows have thrown
A covering of white.

It dreams forever of a Palm
That, far i’ the Morning-land,
Stands silent in a most sad calm
Midst of the burning sand.

"The Palm and the Pine"
Sidney Lanier

Love

 

In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed;
In war, he mounts the warrior's steed;
In halls, in gay attire is seen;
In hamlets, dances on the green.
Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,
And men below, and saints above;
For love is heaven, and heaven is love.

 

"Love" 
Walter Scott

Thou Shalt Not Kill a Certain Evening

 

I had grown weary of him; of his breath
And hands and features I was sick to death.
Each day I heard the same dull voice and tread;
I did not hate him: but I wished him dead.
And he must with his blank face fill my life -
Then my brain blackened; and I snatched a knife.

But ere I struck, my soul's grey deserts through
A voice cried, 'Know at least what thing you do.'
'This is a common man: knowest thou, O soul,
What this thing is? somewhere where seasons roll
There is some living thing for whom this man
Is as seven heavens girt into a span,
For some one soul you take the world away -
Now know you well your deed and purpose. Slay!'

Then I cast down the knife upon the ground
And saw that mean man for one moment crowned.
I turned and laughed: for there was no one by -
The man that I had sought to slay was I.

 

"Thou Shalt Not Kill a Certain Evening" 
Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Address to the Moon

 

How sweet the silver Moon's pale ray,
Falls trembling on the distant bay,
O'er which the breezes sigh no more,
Nor billows lash the sounding shore.

Say, do the eyes of those I love,
Behold thee as thou soar'st above,
Lonely, majestic and serene,
The calm and placid evening's Queen?

Say, if upon thy peaceful breast,
Departed spirits find their rest,
For who would wish a fairer home,
Than in that bright, refulgent dome?

 

"Address to the Moon" 
Nathaniel Hawthorne

A Legacy

 

Friend of my many years
When the great silence falls, at last, on me,
Let me not leave, to pain and sadden thee,
A memory of tears,

But pleasant thoughts alone
Of one who was thy friendship's honored guest
And drank the wine of consolation pressed
From sorrows of thy own.

I leave with thee a sense
Of hands upheld and trials rendered less--
The unselfish joy which is to helpfulness
Its own great recompense;

The knowledge that from thine,
As from the garments of the Master, stole
Calmness and strength, the virtue which makes whole
And heals without a sign;

Yea more, the assurance strong
That love, which fails of perfect utterance here,
Lives on to fill the heavenly atmosphere
With its immortal song.

 

"A Legacy" 
John Greenleaf Whittier

October

 

Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath!
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief
And the year smiles as it draws near its death.
Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay
In the gay woods and in the golden air,
Like to a good old age released from care,
Journeying, in long serenity, away.
In such a bright, late quiet, would that I
Might wear out life like thee, 'mid bowers and brooks
And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,
And music of kind voices ever nigh;
And when my last sand twinkled in the glass,
Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass.

 

"October"  
William Cullen Bryant

The Fireside Poets

I have already published here in my blog poems of two authors that were members of this group. "The Fireside Poets" were so called for their influence in the American culture on the 19th century, when families would gather around the fire and recite poems to spend some quality time to spend the evening. The Fireside Poets were:

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

William Cullen Bryant

 

John Greenleaf Whittier

 

James Russel Lowell

 

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

For the first time a group of American poets rivaled with English poets in popularity in America and throughout the world. The subject of their poems went from normal topics of domestic life to politics of their country. I'll try to post at least one poem from each of them.

Autumn Within

It is autumn; not without,
But within me is the cold.
Youth and spring are all about;
It is I that have grown old.

Birds are darting through the air,
Singing, building without rest;
Life is stirring everywhere,
Save within my lonely breast.

There is silence: the dead leaves
Fall and rustle and are still;
Beats no flail upon the sheaves
Comes no murmur from the mill.

"Autumn Within"

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Kraken

Below the thunders of the upper deep,
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides; above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous and secret cell
Unnumber'd and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the lumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge sea-worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

"The Kraken"

Alfred Tennyson

Solitude

Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air
In his own ground.

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire;
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

Blest, who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,

Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mixt, sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

"Solitude"

Alexander Pope

Work Without Hope

All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair—
The bees are stirring—birds are on the wing—
And Winter slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing,
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
Yet well I ken the banks where Amaranths blow,

Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.
Bloom, O ye Amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,
For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!
With lips unbrighten'd, wreathless brow, I stroll:
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?
Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And Hope without an object cannot live.

"Work Without Hope"

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Mad as the Mist and Snow

Bolt and bar the shutter,
For the foul winds blow:
Our minds are at their best this night,
And I seem to know
That everything outside us is
Mad as the mist and snow.

Horace there by Homer stands,
Plato stands below,
And here is Tully's open page.
How many years ago
Were you and I unlettered lads
Mad as the mist and snow?

You ask what makes me sigh, old friend,
What makes me shudder so?
I shudder and I sigh to think
That even Cicero
And many-minded Homer were
Mad as the mist and snow.

"Mad as the Mist and Snow"

William Butler Yeats