Late summer evening
Late summer evening, the sun went down in gore and stream
At orange dusk hue, the hot and feverish night succeeded
There was a windless calm, a dismal pause the succumb world greeted
The moon showed, the splendor of clearance, and deadlier gleam
Sitting on a porch under the night dark stark pall
Life weaken like the flame in a waning torch, a gripping stall
The moon climbed in sloth through the dilated orbit
Her ridged face scared, her surface uneven and morbid
My spirit grew fragile, weak and withdrawn; the ever mortality
Of all creatures of this amazing world, and adversity
Weighed heavily on me like unwilling, unwelcome sleep
Hovering like an ominous shadow; breathless feeling engraved inside me so deep
And each imagined spiritual pinnacle and steep
Of godlike hardship and religion tell me I must perish and die
Like a sick wounded sinking eagle plunging from the sky.
Yet this is a gentle luxury in me to sadden and to weep,
That I have not the cloudy winds to keep insane
Fresh for the opening of the morning's eye.
Such dim-conceived glories of the mortal brain
Bring round the heart an indescribable feud and inner cry
So do these wonders a most dizzy pain,
That mingles human grandeur with the rude
Wasting of old time -with a surging main,
A sun, a shadow of an awesome reverence and magnitude.
Glory and loveliness have passed from my life away
For if I wander out in early morning towards the glorious East
The blemished splendor, the incomplete happiness encounter my way
A feeling of estranged departure; being taken; un belonging deprived of rest
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Related quotes
On Seeing the Elgin Marbles for the First Time
My spirit is too weak; mortality
Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep,
And each imagined pinnacle and steep
Of godlike hardship tells me I must die
Like a sick eagle looking at the sky.
Yet 'tis a gentle luxury to weep,
That I have not the cloudy winds to keep
Fresh for the opening of the morning's eye.
Such dim-conceived glories of the brain
Bring round the heart an indescribable feud;
So do these wonders a most dizzy pain,
That mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude
Wasting of old Time -with a billowy main,
A sun, a shadow of a magnitude.
poem by John Keats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Sonnets. To Haydon, With A Sonnet Written On Seeing The Elgin Marbles
I.
Haydon! forgive me that I cannot speak
Definitively of these mighty things;
Forgive me, that I have not eagle's wings,
That what I want I know not where to seek,
And think that I would not be over-meek,
In rolling out upfollowed thunderings,
Even to the steep of Heliconian springs,
Were I of ample strength for such a freak.
Think, too, that all these numbers should be thine;
Whose else? In this who touch thy vesture's hem?
For, when men stared at what was most divine
With brainless idiotism and o'erwise phlegm,
Thou hadst beheld the full Hesperian shine
Of their star in the east, and gone to worship them.
II. On Seeing The Elgin Marbles.
My spirit is too weak - mortality
Weighs heavily upon me like unwilling sleep,
And each imagined pinnacle and steep
Of godlike hardship tells me I must die
Like a sick eagle looking at the sky.
Yet 'tis a gentle luxury to weep
That I have not the cloudy winds to keep,
Fresh for the opening of the morning's eye.
Such dim-conceived glories of the brain
Bring round the heart an undescribable feud;
So do these wonders a most dizzy pain,
That mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude
Wasting of old Time -- with a billowy main --
A sun -- a shadow of a magnitude.
poem by John Keats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stay Away Foul Death!
Stay away most foul and vile death
My heart and soul still beat in vigor of breath
Stop flipping so rapidly in my pages of years
My time is still far from mourning and tears
Yet my spirit becomes too fragile and weak
Your imposing mortality worse than the sharpest beak
Weighs heavily on me like unwilling, unwelcome sleep
And each imagined thing of pinnacle and steep
Of Godlike hardship or hell conclude my final bed
Must I like all creatures of this world be ultimately dead!
And how can I ever bid these joys of the world farewell?
Never, I must take them with me to a nobler life,
Where I may find great agonies and heroic strife
Of the human hearts, sages of all past ages with glorious rebel
And how do you imagine my final voyage to land so far?
Over sailing the blue cragginess, a car
And sinew steeds with stream manes, and a charioteer
Guiding out upon the winds with glorious fear
And then the chariot numerous trampling quiver lightly
Along a huge white cloud's ridge; and then with sprightly
Wheel downward we come into fresher skies
Tipped round with silver haze from the sun bright eyes
I have seen many scenes of hill side grave yard
And none I found fit for my final depart
The town around the streets and the setting sun
The clouds, the trees, the rounded hills all seem
Though beautiful, cold, strange macabre as in a dire dream
The haunted clustered spirits of the dead in their nightly dance begun
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You have stormed into my life
You have stormed into my life
You have stolen from me the fire so suddenly without a strife
From the fountains of the past
Left me with none for all others craving lust
All too insignificant for my memory to bother
To glorify the present, you haste and gather
The smoulding ashes to rekindle my low forgotten desire
Stunned as I am against this ancient days fire
Against you I put these lofty steep walls
I fortified my determinations with thick deep trenches
None are a match for the lurid passionate launches
As deep are the moats around me or the towers tall
They are all doomed to melt to dry out and to fall
There, there is the waxing moon in its orbit set so beautiful now
With ore and grace that none can disavow
Goes to the rhythm of the day
Gliding the mirror face of the bay
Gliding the flowers' beds
Gliding the reed's blades
Gliding the golden hours of the night
The meadow, lea and bower under cover bright
Come swiftly come not of late
While the moon is still in its orbit state
Come before the clouds wrapped in morning mists
Strengthen me; enlighten me with your passionate kiss
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I dread the calm
I dread the calm in the morning of a mourn without a sound
It is a calm that comes to foster a greater grief
It is a calm light of dusk before ever dew was falling from leaves
It is a calm sinking in calm pattering to the ground
I fear the calm and scudding winds in the high wold
And on the dews the drench the gorse
And all the silvery gossamer
Shaken into gilded gold
Is it calm and still in the dusky light over great plains
That sweeps late and swiftly in autumn bowers
Of secluded farms and solitary towers
To merge with the bounding and the saint
Is it calm on the vast sea under the spangled silver sleep
The waves that sway in colossus to lull themselves to rest
And the dead calm in the deepening breast
Which heaves with the heaving deep
Yet calm is the mute peace in the meadow’s air
The forest gloom with loom of leaves that redden to fall
And in my chest if calm can ever dwell at all
If any calm is there, it is the calm of despair
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Scold me
Scold me for your eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing your heart torments me with deep disdain,
Have put on mocking mourners of nature to be,
Looking with pretty wrath upon my pains.
The morning sun of heaven knowing what my night been through
Better becomes the gray sobbing cheeks of the East,
And that full star that ushers in the heaven sees my day's blue
Loses half of its glory to the sober dark west,
And your two glorious eyes embedded in such complexion face:
Will there be some pity there for me to beseem your heart that I adore
To mourn for me and torture and despise me no more,
Since even mourning does your beauty grace
Oh, fair creature of the field let me speak and your heart yields
I would my rude words had the influnce without offence or guilt
To lead your thoughts as your fair looks do mine
Then my world would never known a brighter sun shine
God knows I cannot force love as you do upon me
My words will be for sooth and spotless as my youth
A dimond set in lead will reatin its worth and its truth
Though I am base in respect to thee
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An Autumn Night
An autumn night, so bitter chill it is
An owl, for all its plum and thick feathers is cold
The hare long ago rushed limping trembling through the frozen maze
Into a lair, and silent stark are the song birds on a woody enfold
Naked trees with barren boughs, no leaf does tremble, no ripple there
On the streets, all abandoned still under the night sleepy eye
The world so deserted from any human sign or care
Darkness reign on dreary routes with echoing cry
And the moon whether prudish or shy in this cold night
Has fled to her bower, well reluctant to lend her dimming light
No light in this oppressing darkness, no fume no torch in the gloom
Is this world ever waken, do these trees ever bloom
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Let Me Wake Up Young
Let me wake up young at early dawn again
And welcome the showers of spring first rain
Let me love and peer up at the morning sun
With half shut eyes and comfortable fresh cheek
Let me live a sweet life tale full often to seek
Through meadows and pathless woods where rivers fall and run
Let me love again my brightest beautiful one
Of heaven and divine let me slowly speak
These love tunes to the night and the starlight meek
Or the moon, if that her hunting be begun
Let me know, let me relive these delights and be prone
To moralize upon a smile and a tear
And find at once a region in a world of my own
A meadow, a bower for my spirit where it will steer
To alleys of forest gloom where pine tree dropp their cone
Where foxes hide, robins chirp and leaves are fallen sere
Let me wake up in strength and vigor hope
Worship the morning, the mystic night, the light the shade and lush lea on slope
Let me glance again fresh on wide plains, fair foliage trees, and at sprouting flowers
Call on birds over clear streams, smooth calm lakes, and long stretched bowers
Let me lost in the happiness of pathless woods with tall towers
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Like An Eagle
I heard you were looking for me,
Through the shadow of somebody's else,
But I care less, when again I am free,
Feeling like the king of the universe...
I imagine in this windy night,
Your cold body is calling my name,
And like an errant eagle that lost its flight,
You are desperately searching for a new aim...
Many were the tears for you I shed,
After your sudden departure,
Realizing it was a game, from you I fled,
Leaving behind what I failed to capture...
Time has rapidly passed since then,
And my heart has been completely healed...
Now, tightly grasping my mighty pen,
I write this poem and a secret is revealed...
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poem by Romeo Della Valle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Imaginary Boys
Walk across the garden
In the footsteps of my shadow
See the lights out
No one's home
In amongst the statues
Stare at nothing in
The garden moves
Can you help me?
Close my eyes
And hold so tightly
Scared of what the morning brings
Waiting for tomorrow
Never comes
Deep inside
The empty feeling
All the night time leaves me
Three imaginary boys
Slipping through the door
Hear my heart beats in the hallway
Echoes
Round and round
Inside my head
Drifting up the stairs
I see the steps behind me
Disappearing
Can you help me?
Close my eyes
And hold so tightly
Scared of what the morning brings
Waiting for tomorrow
Never comes
Deep inside
The empty feeling
All the night time leaves me
Three imaginary boys sing in my
Sleep sweet child
The moon will change your mind
See the cracked reflection
Standing still
Before the bedroom mirror
Over my shoulder
But no one's there
Whispers in the silence
Pressing close behind me
Pressing close behind
Can you help me?
Can you help me?
Can you help me?
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And the was
And the was like it never had been
As if it is forgotten to be a never happen
It drifts away into the far mists of the past
Lovers first sight, zeal rapture and the engulfing lust
Time is a generous entrepreneur it let us grow old
The memories will be encapsulated in thin fragile patina
Being dappled with daily events unlikely attendants in our arena
Thus the was story never happened its shadow flickers into me cold
It is the world habit that love asks more than life can give
And once this lesson learned all essence is earned
Yet in its self web of fantasy and dreams love is its own fugitive
Rebellious, tenacious, delirious unwilling to give or to bend
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My lover and I
When the ever resilient nightingale to his date
Chirrups his songs day long and night late
My love and I keep our sweet state
In the lush and balmy bower
Of varieties bursting blooming flowers
Sweetening with love chat the fresh young air
All day from rose cheeked morning till dusk we are there
Till the watchman guarding in the tower
Announces the approaching close hour
The gored vermilion sun sank in the West
And the night rests on canopies and on crests
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You turned from me
Remember me as I was back then
As a precious memory of comfort in time of agony and pain
You have turned from me; but I always see
The beautiful maid laughing by a flowering spring tree
With the slaying eyes that made the air around so bright
Under shaking, flickering stars of warm hazy summer night
Hands were touching hands
Love grew slowly in such timid shy trend
You have turned from me; but I always remember
The bursting laugh against the night dew of early November
That one careless night of youth and laugh
While outside the spangled reeds in the silver moon did bath
For me, that night is the only night I have
Such a precious jewel against hard times in my heart I save
And how about you? in shine or in sorrow
How far did that splendid night in your heart grow?
You have turned from me time passes for long
The years were harsh leaving me forlorn without a song
I dare you never will see
What time and years have done to me
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I, the son of fragile mortality
I, the son of fragile mortality
A living soul and then nothing
me who would be cast as a die
standing and adoring the yellow sunset declines
and its long rays and shades the landscapes shines
to mark the barks of trees and flowers stems all with golden light
that lit the dark slant woods of dusk with silvery white
all quiet and calm before the moon takes its roll in the East
adoring all this holy scene I realized that
I am not even a leaf on the blooming bough
Just not a part of this beauty and bloom
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My worst nightmare
My worst nightmare I dread and fear
To be buried beneath a street far from my dears
I will be long dead and my heart full of dust
The place, the dwell of my wherever lost lust
The wheels and hooves of machines and beasts rolling over my head
My bones will be shaken with pain and dread
This is how it will be
If no one is going to take a heed of me
If into a shallow grave my tattered skeleton is thrust
Imagine only inches beneath a heavy traffic street bust
The gallop of horses and the trot of goats and cows
Will keep their relentless beat with a chorus of crows
Beat into my scalp and my brain
Like never an end to the stream of rushing ants under rain
Heedless of poor me carrying, traveling, hurrying, leaving
In my life I shun away from front busy street living
When the wretched age catch up with my bones
Not a bell will be rang, not a pray or eulogy will be read
It is that which makes us noble in the world of the dead
Just like this lowering me down to my eternal tomb bed?
Ah, my spirit where does it wander where does it pass
My soul where does it dwell in heaven or in hell
In the face of immortality and ancient laws unveil
Deep sleep, eternal doom comes to every sinew and lust
No more pleasant summer night dreams, no more morning first shine
But this eternal entity; all formless kingdom divine
Along my bones the creeping tattered flesh will quake
And my all damped besmeared hair stiffened with dust and thus it spake
Do you find God there in this colossus universe of ultimate justice pure
Or you be-left to deem and contemplate in land of spiritual desolation insecure
Among creatures of grave clay; the vain dwellers of tomb dust
A moth out survive you; a mold digs and borrows under your gravel rust
Things of normal routine day you never see nor attend the dusk of night
Heedless, stale and blind to wisdom and light
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I stand and watch a tree of sturdy oak
I stand and watch a tree of sturdy oak
It braves against the rain, the sun and the gust
Thunder roars through its boughs with blast
Yet its leaves whitening in sight like a royal cloak
An oak proclaims against echoing dunes and scourging sun
Through the storm, tempest and chilly damp dark
Its boughs wave against torrents and bent in arcs
As it stands against the events like a calm nun
The clouds above its foliage are straining
The pale yellow woods around its trunk are waning
And a broad stream by its roots is complaining
Of heavy low skies constantly raining
With one black self reflected shadow at its feet
the oak through all its lush foliage shines
As summer haze brooding heat
And holy still silent in its dusty lusty vines
Oh I wish I had the strength and stamina of this oak
My life would be so much in a better clock
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If you go away
If you go away and you have set the day
In my heart I foster a blessing, in my lips a pray
That you shall guard and protect yourself
And your life be under these heaven and sun safe
And if you wish to say ‘Good bye’ and if for ever
Still for ever… as ‘ever’ is such deafening, I do wish you well
Even though my heart with painful pangs gasps for air, never
Against you shall it bare to rebel
Yet quietly and reclusive it retreats to dark solitary
To vanquish its sorrow and sweet pains and deals daily with adversary
It has to unchain to unwind and to wean
Itself from her, the one that had been
I, I his master have locked it in the chamber of my chest
Where shaken and frightened it will seek but never find rest
For I have thrown the dungeon’s keys
And condemned it to live by fading memories
And If I hear it sobbing long into a cold winter night
I will command it to be a proud daring knight
And so I shall say:
Dear heart! There is not a joy life can give, like that it takes away
Oh it is such a fearful thing to glance and bare
Back on the bloom of love long wielded
It is a flower beaten down with rain and wind
Which once they fostered up with gentle care
Your words sounded like the howling winds on barren branch load
When the joy of laughter ceases
Suffocated love dries out and frizzes
And there are no morning breezes to move away the ominous cloud
And the heart within me crying in the bewitched night
It is crying for its deprived light
With no language with a wordless cry
And yet so potent is its sigh
Howling, howling, howling the wind over dark land and sea
No refuge no comfort can come to me
Wailing, wailing, wailing the sounds of the night
The ominous moon stares at the snow and the downs are as a day bright
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Reflections on a winter night
If you go away and you have set the day
In my heart I foster a blessing, in my lips a pray
That you shall guard and protect yourself
And your life be under these heaven and sun safe
And if you wish to say ‘Good bye’ and if for ever
Still for ever… as ‘ever’ is such deafening, I do wish you well
Even though my heart with painful pangs gasps for air, never
Against you shall it bare to rebel
Yet quietly and reclusive it retreats to dark solitary
To vanquish its sorrow and sweet pains and deals daily with adversary
It has to unchain to unwind and to wean
Itself from her, the one that had been
I, I his master have locked it in the chamber of my chest
Where shaken and frightened it will seek but never find rest
For I have thrown the dungeon’s keys
And condemned it to live by fading memories
And If I hear it sobbing long into a cold winter night
I will command it to be a proud daring knight
And so I shall say:
Dear heart! There is not a joy life can give, like that it takes away
Oh it is such a fearful thing to glance and bare
Back on the bloom of love long wielded
It is a flower beaten down with rain and wind
Which once they fostered up with gentle care
Your words sounded like the howling winds on barren branch load
When the joy of laughter ceases
Suffocated love dries out and frizzes
And there are no morning breezes to move away the ominous cloud
And the heart within me crying in the bewitched night
It is crying for its deprived light
With no language with a wordless cry
And yet so potent is its sigh
Howling, howling, howling the wind over dark land and sea
No refuge no comfort can come to me
Wailing, wailing, wailing the sounds of the night
The ominous moon stares at the snow and the downs are as a day bright
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The gloom of an hour
I have at times gnawing fears that my days may soon cease to be
Before my quill has exhausted itself in teeming my brain,
Before my high-piled books, in character, and in gallantry
Hold like rich wheat, the full ripened grain;
When I behold, upon the night's vault starred face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high youthful and fresh romance,
This blessed moon lending its sheen where I shall never trace
Its shadows, with the magic hand of zeal, rapture and chance;
And when I feel the air of a fair creature in the gloom of an hour,
That I shall never look upon or company my kinsmen more,
Never have relish in the fiery power and emotional tower
Of unreflecting love; youth on echoing dunes of an isolated shore
Of this stage wide world a human stands alone, and thinks
Where are all love moments and banners of praise
The human soul they try to cherish and to raise
No answer; his love collapses forgotten; his fame to nothingness sinks.
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Do not disturb the cemetery guard
Do not disturb the cemetery guard
He is in charge of your after life chart
Just lie down, silent and deep in your grave below
And do not yell, stir or ask for a furlough
I know how much you yearn
To know what has become
While you were in your coffin forgotten for some
Or see your relatives and the neighbors
And check their toils, hardship or labors
But you are new in eternity, so much to observe and learn
I know how much you earnestly crave
To burst out to the air from this grave
To you it will be a sense of human generous just
To leave behind, if for a moment all this decay and dust
A repeat may be just for one more time
Grab your books bag in a child prime
And rush in fresh air morning without homework to school
And be rebuked by your teacher 'You dammed fool'
Oh, lie down in your gloom and let wise Nature work her will
And on your clay tomb her darnel will grow
In first years your relatives will visit you when days are bright and still
At your blemished headstone they will bow and whisper low
And tell you of their life, and events you have missed in the show
We all as humans of any color or faith
Hold common scorn and defame to eternal death
The creaking sound of cords lowering us down
As earth returns back to earth with no rising dawn
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