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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=509033" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Night</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The ebb slips from the rock, the sunken<br>Tide-rocks lift streaming shoulders<br>Out of the slack, the slow west<br>Sombering its torch; a ship's light<br>Shows faintly, far out,<br>Over the weight of the prone ocean<br>On the low cloud.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Over the dark mountain, over the dark pinewood,<br>Down the long dark valley along the shrunken river,<br>Returns the splendor without rays, the shining of shadow,<br>Peace-bringer, the matrix of all shining and quieter of shining.<br>Where the shore widens on the bay she opens dark wings<br>And the ocean accepts her glory. O soul worshipful of her<br>You like the ocean have grave depths where she dwells always,<br>And the film of waves above that takes the sun takes also<br>Her, with more love. The sun-lovers have a blond favorite,<br>A father of lights and noises, wars, weeping and laughter,<br>Hot labor, lust and delight and the other blemishes. Quietness<br>Flows from her deeper fountain; and he will die; and she is<br>immortal.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Far off from here the slender<br>Flocks of the mountain forest<br>Move among stems like towers<br>Of the old redwoods to the stream,<br>No twig crackling; dip shy<br>Wild muzzles into the mountain water<br>Among the dark ferns.<br>O passionately at peace you being secure will pardon<br>The blasphemies of glowworms, the lamp in my tower, the<br>fretfulness<br>Of cities, the cressets of the planets, the pride of the stars.<br>This August night in a rift of cloud Antares reddens,<br>The great one, the ancient torch, a lord among lost children,<br>The earth's orbit doubled would not girdle his greatness, one fire<br>Globed, out of grasp of the mind enormous; but to you O Night<br>What? Not a spark? What flicker of a spark in the faint far<br>glimmer<br>Of a lost fire dying in the desert, dim coals of a sand-pit the<br>Bedouins<br>Wandered from at dawn . . . Ah singing prayer to what gulfs<br>tempted<br>Suddenly are you more lost? To us the near-hand mountain<br>Be a measure of height, the tide-worn cliff at the sea-gate a<br>measure of continuance.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The tide, moving the night's<br>Vastness with lonely voices,<br>Turns, the deep dark-shining<br>Pacific leans on the land,<br>Feeling his cold strength<br>To the outmost margins: you Night will resume<br>The stars in your time.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O passionately at peace when will that tide draw shoreward?<br>Truly the spouting fountains of light, Antares, Arcturus,<br>Tire of their flow, they sing one song but they think silence.<br>The striding winter giant Orion shines, and dreams darkness.<br>And life, the flicker of men and moths and the wolf on the hill,<br>Though furious for continuance, passionately feeding, passionately<br>Remaking itself upon its mates, remembers deep inward<br>The calm mother, the quietness of the womb and the egg,<br>The primal and the latter silences: dear Night it is memory<br>Prophesies, prophecy that remembers, the charm of the dark.<br>And I and my people, we are willing to love the four-score years<br>Heartily; but as a sailor loves the sea, when the helm is for harbor.<br>Have men's minds changed,<br>Or the rock hidden in the deep of the waters of the soul<br>Broken the surface? A few centuries<br>Gone by, was none dared not to people<br>The darkness beyond the stars with harps and habitations.<br>But now, dear is the truth. Life is grown sweeter and lonelier,<br>And death is no evil.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robinson+Jeffers">Robinson Jeffers</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=509033" data-title="Night de Robinson Jeffers" data-description="The ebb slips from the rock, the sunken
Tide-rocks lift streaming shoulders
Out of the slack, the slow west
Sombering its torch; a ship's light
Shows faintly, far out,
Over the weight of the prone ocean
On the low cloud.

Over the dark mountain, o..."></div>
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