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Sonnet II

Her courts are by the flux of flaming ways,
Between the rivers and the illumined sky
Whose fervid depths reverberate from on high
Fierce lustres mingled in a fiery haze.
They mark it inland; blithe and fair of face
Her suitors follow, guessing by the glare
Beyond the hilltops in the evening air
How bright the cressets at her portals blaze.
On the pure fronts Defeat ere many a day
Falls like the soot and dirt on city-snow;
There hopes deferred lie sunk in piteous seams.
Her paths are disillusion and decay,
With ruins piled and unapparent woe,
The graves of Beauty and the wreck of dreams.

poem by Alan Seeger
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To Cole, The Painter, Departing For Europe

A SONNET.

Thine eyes shall see the light of distant skies:
Yet, COLE! thy heart shall bear to Europe's strand
A living image of thy native land,
Such as on thine own glorious canvas lies;
Lone lakes--savannas where the bison roves--
Rocks rich with summer garlands--solemn streams--
Skies, where the desert eagle wheels and screams--
Spring bloom and autumn blaze of boundless groves.
Fair scenes shall greet thee where thou goest--fair,
But different--everywhere the trace of men,
Paths, homes, graves, ruins, from the lowest glen
To where life shrinks from the fierce Alpine air,
Gaze on them, till the tears shall dim thy sight,
But keep that earlier, wilder image bright.

poem by William Cullen Bryant
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The House Of Dust: Part 01: 02: One, from his high bright window in a tower

One, from his high bright window in a tower,
Leans out, as evening falls,
And sees the advancing curtain of the shower
Splashing its silver on roofs and walls:
Sees how, swift as a shadow, it crosses the city,
And murmurs beyond far walls to the sea,
Leaving a glimmer of water in the dark canyons,
And silver falling from eave and tree.

One, from his high bright window, looking down,
Peers like a dreamer over the rain-bright town,
And thinks its towers are like a dream.
The western windows flame in the sun's last flare,
Pale roofs begin to gleam.

Looking down from a window high in a wall
He sees us all;
Lifting our pallid faces towards the rain,
Searching the sky, and going our ways again,
Standing in doorways, waiting under the trees . . .
There, in the high bright window he dreams, and sees
What we are blind to,—we who mass and crowd
From wall to wall in the darkening of a cloud.

The gulls drift slowly above the city of towers,
Over the roofs to the darkening sea they fly;
Night falls swiftly on an evening of rain.
The yellow lamps wink one by one again.
The towers reach higher and blacker against the sky.

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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The Tower

Looking down from a window high in a wall
He sees us all;
Lifting our pallid faces towards the rain,
Searching the sky, and going our ways again,
Standing in doorways, waiting under the trees . . .
There, in the high bright window he dreams, and sees
What we are blind to,-we who mass and crowd
From wall to wall in the darkening of a cloud.

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Untouched by Grace, but not by Snow

Waking up, noticing the ground
To my surprise I am surround by snow
Every detail in which was lay
With perfect precise wonder
In this most daring betray of beauty
And all is quiet

All is so annoyingly quiet
The dirt that is covered peeks through the ground
Destroying what was once beauty
That was pronounced by the glistened snow
And all I can do is wonder
How this world become simple to lay

When sleep takes us on we lay
And all is deeply quiet
Our dreams become our wonder
Weather we stand on solid ground
An undefined map layer out by snow
Creates to us sleeping beauty

But what is this beauty?
And where does it lay?
What is understood to be a lie as white as snow
And all has become a false quiet
Life, which puts our burdens to the ground
And here we are left to wonder

To whom to we place our wonder
The one who holds onto your beauty?
Who picks you up off the ground
And will be contempt as you lay
This is the lovely quiet
Dawn, of our love as pure as snow

To ask what is this snow
Pure, grace, love to which we wonder
Making this moment freeze in quiet
Holding unto this betrayed beauty
Which pours unto us as we lay
To the emissive ground

To become as pure as snow is beauty
But do we wonder under stars we lay?
And all was quiet as the snow flake touched ground

poem by Tyro Twee
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song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Better Weather Here Than Somewhere Else

It's a Northern winter wonderland
Happy couples walking hand in hand
Department stores aglow with lights
Christmas trees always in sight
Snow falls down on New York City
Snow falls down on New York City

It's true that the place is lit up bright
And maybe the streets look amazing at night
And while the country can seem kind of plain
Alabama's got sunshine when New York's got rain

Frost on rooftops and gifts with bows
Teddy bears in shop windows
Santa in the mall with children on his lap
So much to do, so many presents to wrap
And snow falls down on New York City
Snow falls down on New York City

It's true that the place is lit up bright
And maybe the streets look amazing at night
And while the country can seem kind of plain
Alabama's got sunshine when New York's got rain

There's no white Christmas for Dixie this year
But we don't need snow to bring holiday cheer
Maybe we're simple but we still do our part
To keep Christmas a tradition that lives in the heart
So let the snow fall down on new York City
Just let it fall down on New York City

poem by Akara K.
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Fountain’s Abbey

NEVER more, when the day is o'er,
Will the lonely vespers sound;
No bells are ringing—no monks are singing,
When the moonlight falls around.

A few pale flowers, which in other hours
May have cheered the dreary mood;
When the votary turned to the world he had spurned,
And repined at the solitude.

Still do they blow 'mid the ruins below,
For fallen are fane and shrine,
And the moss has grown o'er the sculptured stone
Of an altar no more divine.

Still on the walls where the sunshine falls,
The ancient fruit-tree grows;
And o'er tablet and tomb, extends the bloom
Of many a wilding rose.

Fair though they be, yet they seemed to me
To mock the wreck below;
For mighty the tower, where the fragile flower
May now as in triumph blow.

Oh, foolish the thought, that my fancy brought;
More true and more wise to say,
That still thus doth spring, some gentle thing,
With its beauty to cheer decay.

poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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On Ettrick Forest's Mountains Dun {Life In The Forest}

On Ettrick Forest's mountains dun
'Tis blithe to hear the sportsman's gun,
And seek the heath-frequenting brood
Far through the noonday solitude;
By many a cairn and trenched mound,
Where chiefs of yore sleep lone and sound,
And springs, where grey-hair'd shepherds tell
That still the fairies love to dwell.

Along the silver streams of Tweed
'Tis blithe the mimic fly to lead,
When to the hook the salmon springs,
And the line whistles through the rings;
The boiling eddy see him try,
Then dashing from the current high,
Till watchful eye and cautious hand
Have led his wasted strength to land.

'Tis blithe along the midnight tide
With stalwart arm the boat to guide;
On high the dazzling blaze to rear,
And heedful plunge the barbed spear:
Rock, wood, and scaur, emerging bright,
Fling on the stream their ruddy light,
And from the bank our band appears
Like Genii, arm'd with fiery spears.

'Tis blithe at eve to tell the tale,
How we succeed, and how we fail,
Whether at Alwyn's lordly meal,
Or lowlier board of Ashestiel;
While the gay tapers cheerly shine,
Bickers the fire, and fhws the wineâ€”
Days free from thought, and nights from care,
My blessing on the Forest fair!

poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Broken Hearts

Two hearts joined
In the fate of love
Two hearts break
In the wings of a dove

One heart still loves
Still hopes, Still dreams
One heart hurts
One heart Screams

The heart that loves
Still hopes, Still dreams
That's my heart
Torn at the seams

The heart that hurts
The one that screams
That's his heart
Torn at the seams

Two hearts lost
A beloved lil dream
The hurt the pain
A never ending dream

The heart that's his
Threw it away
The love, The affection
An eventful day

Two hearts joined
But ripped and torn
Just as violent
As a winter storm

One heart still loves
Still hopes, Still dreams
To one day fix his
and sew up the seams

But one heart still hurts
Still cries, Still screams
That's his heart
With no more dreams

A heart confused
A heart in pain
That's his heart
A heart with no gain

Two hearts broken
Ripped at the seams
But two hearts Joined
Forever in their dreams

My heart hopes
That his heart sees
The love we share
Was meant to be

My heart waits
For his to return
My heart hopes
That his will learn

That my heart and his
......Were meant to be

poem by Rose Favela
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Snowy evening

Snowy evening
Snow filling the ground
Turning the city into white
She, in a bright red dress
Walking slowly, enjoying
Her walk in the snowy evening
Towards the Fence of the garden!

Greenaries of the garden
Now in white shades
With frozen drops of ice
Covering the grass
Every little bush
Like a cotton plant
Making a lovely sense!

Few snow flakes in her hands
To taste the pretty white snow
She opens her mouth
Awesome beauty with a white perl
In hand towards her mouth
With more innocence
Trees and bushes covered with snow
Wonders if she is pretty
Or the snow fall is pretty
Unexpressed silence persists
In the garden
Till the beauty
Went down the street!

poem by Archana Prabahar
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A Canadian Snow Fall

Come to the casement, we’ll watch the snow
Softly descending on earth below,
Fairer and whiter than spotless down
Or the pearls that gleam in a monarch’s crown,
Clothing the earth in its robe’s bright flow;
Is it not lovely—the pure white snow?

See, as it falls o’er the landscape wide,
How kindly it seeks all blots to hide,
Shrouding each black, unsightly nook,
The miry banks of the little brook,
Robing bare branches in ermine white,
Making all lovely, spotless and bright.

In the farm-yard see with what magic skill
Its marvels of beauty it works at will:
The well-house now is a fairy hall,
And the rough, rude fence is a marble wall;
While gates and hillocks where barn fowl ranged
To ramparts and bastions now are changed.

How softly it falls—nor breath, nor sound,
Though four feet high it should pile the ground,
Though it change the face of wood and field,
With skill that no mortal could ever wield;
Yet, as it falls, not a murmur low—
The noiseless, silent, white-winged snow!

See, in the rays of the morning bright,
How it blushes beneath the sun’s red light;
How its diamond crystals gleam and shine,
Clearer than those of Golconda’s mine;
Though the wintry winds may with anger blow,
Surely all love the beautiful snow.

poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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Damask rose

Damask rose how fair your beauty holds the light
How fair your fragrance subdues the fears of night
and how fair your lowly crimson-head
Is with gallantry and passion fed.

In Midnight-oils in sunlit soils
Not a fairer beauty be;
Oh damask rose in flaming clothes
What more beauty could there be...

But in man's hand a maiden fair
with hazelnut brown hair
And roving-limbs that exult like hymns
The answer to a prayer...

poem by Mark Heathcote
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Sirens Harp

Our long roads to faraway, but not to safety
fair in advance, a violent gain, of our eternity,
there, we seek our childhood's white clouds,
why ocean-paths are ornaments of shrouds?

So you ask me, glorious beauty, to adore,
of lone paths you have chosen, way before,
years to guide us back, to opaline nacreous
darkened mislays, of my strength ominous.

Shrills of Ghosts belt down anything gleaming,
or hopes, to dusk in dreams again, dimming,
to abate in Stygian trips, a devoid emptiness,
consent Styx darkness, renounce brightness.

Pearlescent were our trips, along Milky ways,
beaming in ocean paths, our childhood bays,
in Stygian dew, how unassailable they will be,
even from us! and decorate a dim Sirens' glee.

And then you escort an illusion in Star quays,
again, your faraway projection, entirely stays,
within Utopian hopes to embrace a lone ghost
reverberant will be, sailing lonely to foremost.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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The Destroying Angel

I dreamt a dream the other night
That an Angel appeared to me, clothed in white.
Oh! it was a beautiful sight,
Such as filled my heart with delight.

And in her hand she held a flaming brand,
Which she waved above her head most grand;
And on me she glared with love-beaming eyes,
Then she commanded me from my bed to arise.

And in a sweet voice she said, "You must follow me,
And in a short time you shall see
The destruction of all the public-houses in the city,
Which is, my friend, the God of Heaven's decree."

Then from my bed in fear I arose,
And quickly donned on my clothes;
And when that was done she said, " Follow me
Direct to the High Street, fearlessly."

So with the beautiful Angel away I did go,
And when we arrived at the High Street, Oh! what a show,
I suppose there were about five thousand men there,
All vowing vengeance against the publicans, I do declare.

Then the Angel cried with a solemn voice aloud
To that vast end Godly assembled crowd,
"Gentlemen belonging the fair City of Dundee,
Remember I have been sent here by God to warn ye.

"That by God's decree ye must take up arms and follow me
And wreck all the public-houses in this fair City,
Because God cannot countenance such dens of iniquity.
Therefore, friends of God, come, follow me.

"Because God has said there's no use preaching against strong drink,
Therefore, by taking up arms against it, God does think,
That is the only and the effectual cure
To banish it from the land, He is quite sure.

"Besides, it has been denounced in Dundee for fifty years
By the friends of Temperance, while oft they have shed tears.
Therefore, God thinks there's no use denouncing it any longer,
Because the more that's said against it seemingly it grows stronger."

And while the Angel was thus addressing the people,
The Devil seemed to be standing on the Townhouse Steeple,
Foaming at the mouth with rage, and seemingly much annoyed,
And kicking the Steeple because the public-houses wore going to be destroyed.

Then the Angel cried, " Satan, avaunt! begone!"
Then he vanished in the flame, to the amazement of everyone;
And waving aloft the flaming brand,
That she carried in her right hand

She cried, "Now, friends of the Temperance cause, follow me:
For remember if's God's high decree
To destroy all the public-houses in this fair City;
Therefore, friends of God, let's commence this war immediately."

Then from the High Street we all did retire,
As the Angel, sent by God, did desire;
And along the Perth Road we all did go,
While the Angel set fire to the public-houses along that row.

And when the Perth Road public-houses were fired, she cried, " Follow me,
And next I'll fire the Hawkhill public-houses instantly."
Then away we went with the Angel, without dread or woe,
And she fired the IEawkhill public-houses as onward we did go.

Then she cried, "Let's on to the Scouringburn, in God's name."
And away to the Scouringburn we went, with our hearts aflame,
As the destroying Angel did command.
And when there she fired the public-houses, which looked very grand.

And when the public-houses there were blazing like a kiln,
She cried, " Now, my friends, we'll march to the Bonnet Hill,
And we'll fire the dens of iniquity without dismay,
Therefore let's march on, my friends, without delay."

And when we arrived at the Bonnet Hill,
The Angel fired the public-houses, as she did well.
Then she cried, "We'll leave them now to their fate,
And march on to the Murraygate."

Then we marched on to the Murraygate,
And the Angel fired the public-houses there, a most deserving fate.
Then to the High Street we marched and fired them there,
Which was a most beautiful blaze, I do declare.

And on the High Street, old men and women were gathered there,
And as the flames ascended upwards, in amazement they did stare
When they saw the public-houses in a blaze,
But they clapped their hands with joy and to God gave praise.

Then the Angel cried, "Thank God, Christ's Kingdom's near at hand,
And there will soon be peace and plenty throughout the land,
And the ravages of the demon Drink no more will be seen."
But, alas, I started up in bed, and behold it was a dream!

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Blaze of Glory

Blaze of glory, the epic showpiece
The reality of dreams, the advent of a wish
The accumulation of perfection
Light in the darkness of desperation
Fireworks explode, the walls implode
As power comes to dwell at his abode
The flash of energy, boardwalk to infinity
Forever young, the dawn of invincibility
Fists and hands reach for the sky
Get ‘em high, get ‘em high
The scream of victoy echoes from lips
Completion of the masterpiece
Inside they rise, if not out
Them at their best, there is no doubt
Soldiers fight and die like wildcats
On the rubble and ruins they raise victory flags
Athletes who break their walls
Then into invincibility's bottomless fall
They raise their trophies high
Reach their hands to the sky
When one makes the deal of the day
When nothing can stand in his way
Remember the blaze of glory
For after the glory fades
All that remains, a wreck ablaze….

poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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The Splendor Of The Days

Sweet and shrill the crickets hiding in the grasses brown and lean
Pipe their gladness-sweeter, shriller-one would think the world was green.
O the haze is on the hilltops, and the haze is on the lake!
See it fleeing through the valley with the bold wind in its wake!
Mark the warm October haze!
Mark the splendor of the days!
And the mingling of the crimson with the sombre brown and grays!

See the bare hills turn their furrows to the shine and to the glow;
If you listen you can hear it, hear a murmur soft and low-
'We are naked,' so the fields say, 'stripped of all our golden dress.'
'Heed it not,' October answers, 'for I love ye none the less.
Share my beauty and my cheer
While we rest together here,
In these sun-filled days of languor, in these late days of the year.'

All the splendor of the summer, all the springtime's light and grace,
All the riches of the harvest, crown her head and light her face;
And the wind goes sighing, sighing, as if loath to let her pass,
While the crickets sing exultant in the lean and withered grass.
O the warm October haze!
O the splendor of the days!
O the mingling of the crimson with the sombre brown and grays!

poem by Jean Blewett
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Disillusion

Changing, moving, in a circle
I can see your face in all of my dreams
Smiling, laughing, from the shadows
When I hear your voice I know what it means
I know it doesnt matter just how hard I try
Youre all the reason for my life
Disillusion, disillusions all you left for me
How can I forget you when my world is breaking down
Youre all I had, youre all I want
Disillusion, disillusions now, thats all I have
Wishing, hoping, chasing shadows
Did I see your face somewhere in the crowd
Thinking, wondering, what youre doing
I can stop myself from crying out loud
They say my wound will heal and only leave a scar
But then, theyd never shared our love
Disillusion, disillusions all you left for me
How can I forget you when my world is breaking down
Youre all I had, youre all I want
Disillusion, disillusions now, thats all I have
Disillusion, disillusions now, thats all I have

song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pearlescent Trips

(Pearlescent Trips)

Our long roads to faraway, but not to safety
fair in advance, a violent gain, of our eternity,
there, we seek our childhood's white clouds,
why ocean-paths are ornaments of shrouds?

There you ask me, glorious beauty, to adore,
agleam paths you have chosen, way before,
years to guide us back, to opaline nacreous
darkened mislays, of my strength ominous.

Shrills of Ghosts belt down anything gleaming,
or hopes, to dusk in dreams again, dimming,
to abate in Stygian trips, a devoid emptiness,
consent Styx darkness, renounce brightness.

Pearlescent were our trips, along Milky ways,
beaming in ocean paths, our childhood bays,
in Stygian dew, how unassailable they will be,
even from us! and decorate a dim Sirens' glee.

And then you escort an illusion in Star quays,
again, your faraway projection, entirely stays,
within Utopian hopes to embrace a lone ghost
reverberant will be, sailing only to foremost.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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The Maid Of Jerusalem

Maid of Jerusalem, by the Dead Sea,
I wandered all sorrowing thinking of thee,--
Thy city in ruins, thy kindred deplored,
All fallen and lost by the Ottoman's sword.

I saw thee sit there in disconsolate sighs,
Where the hall of thy fathers a ruined heap lies.
Thy fair finger showed me the place where they trod,
In thy childhood where flourished the city of God.

The place where they fell and the scenes where they lie,
In the tomb of Siloa--the tear in her eye
She stifled: transfixed there it grew like a pearl,
Beneath the dark lash of the sweet Jewish Girl.

Jerusalem is fallen! still thou art in bloom,
As fresh as the ivy around the lone tomb,
And fair as the lily of morning that waves
Its sweet-scented bells over desolate graves.

When I think of Jerusalem in kingdoms yet free,
I shall think of its ruins and think upon thee;
Thou beautiful Jewess, content thou mayest roam;
A bright spot in Eden still blooms as thy home.

poem by John Clare
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World Falls

Im coming home with a stone
Strapped onto my back
Im coming home with a burning hope
Turning all my blues to black
Im looking for a sacred hand
To carve into my stone
A ghost of comfort
Angels breath
To keep this life inside my chest
This world falls on me
Hopes of immortality
Everywhere I turn
All the beauty just keeps shaking me
Now I woke up in the middle of a dream
Scared the world was too much for me
Sejarez said, dont let go
Just plant the seeds and watch them grow
Ive slept in rainy canyon lands
Cold drenched to my skin
I always wake to find a face
To calm these troubled lands
Ah this world falls on me
With dreams of immortality
Everywhere I turn
All the beauty just keeps shaking me
Now Im running
To the end of the earth
And Im swimming
To the edge of the sea
And Im laughing
Im under a starry sky
This world was meant for me
Dont bury me
Carry me
I wish I was a nomad
An indian or a saint
The edge of death would disappear
Leave me nothing left to taint
I wish I was a nomad
An indian or a saint
Give me walking shoes
Feathered arms
And a key to heavens gate
Ah this world falls on me
Dreams of immortality
Everywhere I turn
All the beauty just keeps shaking me
Im running
(this world falls on me)
To the end of the earth
(with hopes of immortality)
Im swimming
(everywhere I turn)
To the edge of the sea
(the beauty keeps on shaking me)
And Im laughing
(this world falls on me)
Cause Im under a starry sky
(hopes of immortality)
This world was meant for me
(everywhere I turn)
Ive got hopes of immortality

song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Sonnet II

Related quotes

To Cole, The Painter, Departing For Europe

The House Of Dust: Part 01: 02: One, from his high bright window in a tower

The Tower

Untouched by Grace, but not by Snow

Evening Star

Better Weather Here Than Somewhere Else

Fountain’s Abbey

On Ettrick Forest's Mountains Dun {Life In The Forest}

Broken Hearts

Snowy evening

A Canadian Snow Fall

Damask rose

Sirens Harp

The Destroying Angel

Blaze of Glory

The Splendor Of The Days

Disillusion

Pearlescent Trips

The Maid Of Jerusalem

World Falls

En.Citatepedia®.ro

Sonnet II

Related quotes

To Cole, The Painter, Departing For Europe

The House Of Dust: Part 01: 02: One, from his high bright window in a tower

The Tower

Untouched by Grace, but not by Snow

Evening Star

Better Weather Here Than Somewhere Else

Fountain’s Abbey

On Ettrick Forest's Mountains Dun {Life In The Forest}

Broken Hearts

Snowy evening

A Canadian Snow Fall

Damask rose

Sirens Harp

The Destroying Angel

Blaze of Glory

The Splendor Of The Days

Disillusion

Pearlescent Trips

The Maid Of Jerusalem

World Falls

En.Citatepedia^®.ro