Learn to obey the rout of your destiny
Learn to obey the rout of your destiny
And follow the horizon to its final edge
For you do not abode where the internal are
Nor your nostrils breathe air among the stars
Your path in the universe is not an endless orbit
But too straight line, narrow and languid
Short without the touch of heavenly infinitude
Brief upon the face of earth
Scarcely touched by happiness and mirth
Your pace never crosses and never runs with these orbs
Of mingling lights
And you estrange in the harmony of universe delight
Sweet mother earth’s womb
Where you feed and thrive
Is your final end and your dark tomb
Go search the great cities, the pride
The paradise and glory of ancient days
Now in grave of wilderness hide
Their wrecks like torn waves of vexed sea foam plays
Their monuments like shattered mountains rise
And wild weeds and baleful copses, dress
The bones of their desolation's nakedness
By the edge, gray walls molding in their duds falling prize
On their mow dull time feeds
like slow fire upon a hoary torch lulling peaks
While the laughing flowers along the grass are spread
As an infant smile over the coffin of a dead
Those mighty ages those power full empires
Dreadful tyrants and savage emperors
The all lie buried in the ravage they have wrought
For what their memory can lend you borrow not
Submit to the laws of thee nature
And follow the lights whose smile kindle the universe nurture
The ORA and splendor that in the firmament of time dwell
That may never be eclipsed or veiled
The glory of mountains's peak blazed with morning sun
That at early dawn to its extreme heights climbs
Leaving death, down beneath collied clouds
To roam in our celestial world
with low mist that cannot blot
The eternal light or veil the human spirit
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Related quotes
From "Adonais," 49-52
49
Go thou to Rome,--at once the Paradise,
The grave, the city, and the wilderness;
And where its wrecks like shattered mountains rise,
And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress
The bones of Desolation's nakedness
Pass, till the spirit of the spot shall lead
Thy footsteps to a slope of green access
Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead
A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread;
50
And gray walls moulder round, on which dull Time
Feeds, like slow fire upon a hoary brand;
And one keen pyramid with wedge sublime,
Pavilioning the dust of him who planned
This refuge for his memory, doth stand
Like flame transformed to marble; and beneath,
A field is spread, on which a newer band
Have pitched in Heaven's smile their camp of death,
Welcoming him we lose with scarce extinguished breath.
51
Here pause: these graves are all too young as yet
To have outgrown the sorrow which consigned
Its charge to each; and if the seal is set,
Here, on one fountain of a mourning mind,
Break it not thou! too surely shalt thou find
Thine own well full, if thou returnest home,
Of tears and gall. From the world's bitter wind
Seek shelter in the shadow of the tomb.
What Adonais is, why fear we to become?
52
The One remains, the many change and pass;
Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly;
Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,
Stains the white radiance of Eternity,
Until Death tramples it to fragments.--Die,
If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek!
Follow where all is fled!--Rome's azure sky,
Flowers, ruins, statues, music, words, are weak
The glory they transfuse with fitting truth to speak.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Hymn of Apollo
I.
The sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie,
Curtained with star-inwoven tapestries,
From the broad moonlight of the sky,
Fanning the busy dreams from my dim eyes,--
Waken me when their Mother, the gray Dawn,
Tells them that dreams and that the moon is gone.
II.
Then I arise, and climbing Heaven's blue dome,
I walk over the mountains and the waves,
Leaving my robe upon the ocean foam;
My footsteps pave the clouds with fire; the caves
Are filled with my bright presence, and the air
Leaves the green Earth to my embraces bare.
III.
The sunbeams are my shafts, with which I kill
Deceit, that loves the night and fears the day;
All men who do or even imagine ill
Fly me, and from the glory of my ray
Good minds and open actions take new might,
Until diminished by the reign of Night.
IV.
I feed the clouds, the rainbows, and the flowers,
With their ethereal colors; the Moon's globe,
And the pure stars in their eternal bowers,
Are cinctured with my power as with a robe;
Whatever lamps on Earth or Heaven may shine,
Are portions of one power, which is mine.
V.
I stand at noon upon the peak of Heaven;
Then with unwilling steps I wander down
Into the clouds of the Atlantic even;
For grief that I depart they weep and frown:
What look is more delightful than the smile
With which I soothe them from the western isle?
VI.
I am the eye with which the Universe
Beholds itself, and knows it is divine;
All harmony of instrument or verse,
All prophecy, all medicine, is mine,
All light of art or nature; - to my song
Victory and praise in its own right belong.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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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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The sea by night
The sea at night is not calm,
The scudding foaming waves sound the alarm
The savage winds abrasive, feverishly court the waves
Rejected, they continue upon the surf into the rocky caves
The night-high tide solemn, rakes upon the stony shore;
Along the rugged cliffs and chalky ivory caves
Mourns the hoarse ocean, suffocating seeming to deplore
All that are buried in his restless agitated craves
Into the mined by corrosive tides, of the hollow rock
The waves rushed climbing, rushing to its turf height,
Falling back to relentless shakes with long-resounding shock,
Loud dire thundering on the ear of sullen dreadful night;
Again and again in relentless endless train of unearthly attire
Like long swaying tongues of consuming fire
The waves bounce hitting the fall prone rock
There once upon its peak thrived a nest of a family duck
Above the desolate and stormy deep unrest,
Gleams the wan moon, in gloom by floating mist depprest;
The light towers on vexed shore stand wrapped in blanket of foam
The sea is not quite, the sun is shy reclusive at the bells of dawn
Where is Nature's nurture and calming soft nurse
By wrath or by rage Nature lend us its curse
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Window ! !
Window of life opens
and a smile on Ocean’s face
waves bang all around
dawn pleasant and chirpy
footprints of earth
on day’s petals
a funicular climbs
upwards to mountains peak
in equal variation climbs
up and down
a furnace burns from
hearts of provoked
battlefields
corpses mortified,
souls chased out on
inhuman cerebral
concocts
onlookers watch merely
slams and smashes
from either hostiles
saviors of an ancient
civilization’s longing
determined equilibriums.
Instrumental human
calculations misfire on
unpredictable ends and
a heart smiles here along with
ocean and cosmic universe
stay away waves
from this window and don't
try to tame any further...
poem by Rema Prasanaa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When people ask me if a god created the universe, I tell them that the question itself makes no sense. Time didn’t exist before the big bang, so there is no time for god to make the universe in. It’s like asking directions to the edge of the earth; The Earth is a sphere; it doesn’t have an edge; so looking for it is a futile exercise. We are each free to believe what we want, and it’s my view that the simplest explanation is there is no god. No one created our universe,and no one directs our fate. This leads me to a profound realization; There is probably no heaven, and no afterlife either. We have this one life to appreciate the grand design of the universe, and for that I am extremely grateful.
quote by Stephen Hawking
Submitted by Catalin Popescu
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Guard yourself
Guard yourself from the evil behind your wings
Hide yourself from the storm, the rain, and the winds
The forest gloom foster danger with deadly weight
which haunts us in some sad reverse of fate
The thoughts which bow the kindly spirit down
and break the springs of joy of pleasures flown
Keep away from the blast that whirls behind the hill
Stay away from the wave, the gale, and the rushing rill
Shy your ears from the overwhelming sound
of hail-stones showers pattered round
Beware of the lightning it will blind your eyes
Take heed! At its heels the thunder's wrath rises
keep your steps away from the edge of above
dark, deep, endless holes, the colossus of nothing
Love should yield us with strength of kings.
Strength should nurture us back to Love
The strength of acknowledging weaknesses and adverse.
Time is the fire on which we burn,
And among all the heavenly stars in the universe,
This is the planet where we were born.
And in this very world,
which is the world of all of us, where our story is told
The place where in the end and as a whole,
we may find our happiness, or not at all.
Even as we pursue it in persistence
Our perception of it changes as does our existence.
There is not a joy the world can give
Like that it from us may deceive
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Park 'n go
as life lives in a part of profane world, the immortality of
soul, struggle the sting of death, in a boundless, limit of
earthly pleasure
like a crystal dropp of sweat, drain in every veins that
gives, each strength the mighty force to carry the weight
beyond its loads of flesh to reach where the soul sprouted
like Lilies of joy in my immortality of soul
life as we take is but, a journey of happiness, waiting where
the final destination it brings, for every life experienced lives
a memory to hold until, life comes to an end, of where it is just
a park and go as it would tell
make each moment to remember, for anything it would bring
is the one that the heart will live, until in heaven it depart, let
the wisdom of time comes, to see the dawning days that
my soul leaves my human body, for thy eternity cloth me, the
day of immortality where a continuous life of an endless free
all will come to witness, that everything in heaven and on earth
will come to an end, for the endless beginning, is the perfection
of creation that, the supreme Lord of the universe, reveals the
completeness light of eternity
as mankind, come and go, park 'n go, the universe has just leads
us to the right direction of where, the path of salvation await our
soul to live.... a final destination with God
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tears of Allah
every blood that drops to the ground because of your
greed and hunger for power where innocent
lives are sacrificed; I the Lord thy God listens to their
sobbing and their cry,
judgment and punishment will come worst
than Sodom and Gomorrah have experienced
every child wasted inside the mother's
womb, without respecting their dignity,
I, the giver
of life have tasted the sad tears of pleading,
punishment shall
inflame your soul into the dungeons of hell
every tree, mountain, animal, river, ocean and the
universe in your dominion that you have neglected,
abused and exploited, because of your selfishness;
I, the God of Abraham will put you to shame
and you will answer my wrath
an anger that may vanish
your descendant up to the third degree of your
generation
every hunger and deprivation
experienced by my beloved people, because of
your avarice and greed
and extreme quest of power and wealth,
weakened my love;
I, the great provider of the universe
shall put you to the doom of the edge of the earth,
where your teeth gnashes till eternity
in every family shattered and lives broken,
due to your lustful desires not pleasing in my
eyes
that caused wanton destruction to my beautiful creation;
I the Lord of life will abandon you from the face of the earth
and the shadow of death shall follow your life
until judgment day comes
I am who I am
the existence before time,
I made
generations come to exist and made the universe live
throughout till the time ends,
I come to give your life a
wisdom of all ages and will live beyond time
come and be blessed
take and give and live, and love and share the
given gifts of Heaven for you have been chosen
to be with the covenant to wipe all the tears of all men and women
on my Father's land
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heights
We fly to heights;
then sink to depths.
Like birds that fly in the sky;
but pick their feeds from earth.
Like plains that travel in the air;
but gather passengers from the ground.
Like great mountains, towering in glory,
but are founded on their bases.
Great men are small!
They bow to wash others feet,
they get their hands dirty,
to clean up the mess.
The greatest things on earth are small
But there are no mountains without bases
And no wave fails to see the shores
No bird feeds in the air
Heights are sweet but we soon come back home
The greatest imperfection lies in heights
The only temptations come from pride
There’s no warmth in heights
We strive for heights but fall to depths
Heights are never real.
poem by Timothy muggaga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Final Destination Is With God
What purpose is there
To live in darkness,
To make one’s life dark
Or to accept darkness?
A life void of love
Or generosity,
A life of petty pursuits
That fail to enrich another,
This is darkness.
A life that refuses
To accept the love
Of God or humans,
This is the ultimate
Extreme darkness.
When a person finds love
From the universe and for the universe,
There is a light that radiates within
For everyone else to see and feel;
When a human being views a flower
Or a sunrise, when he sees a small bird at dawn
And feels the rush of spiritual promise that says
The world is meaningful and beautiful
And sometimes kind, this is a powerful light.
Suffering and death are forms
Of unavoidable darkness,
An intense darkness that can crush a spirit
That fails to contrast the sadness with the joy,
The sorrow with the laughter,
The goodbyes with the hellos in life.
We must walk the line between darkness and light,
Between loneliness and happiness
Knowing our final destination is with God
Which is the victory of light over the darkness.
Divine Sunlight Rays of hope,
Nurture the light within us to always increase
And shine upon others with the promise
That every struggle can be overcome
And every battle against the heart or soul can be won,
May we live to know love and to share love,
May we be examples of the divine nature
Which is ever to uplift with kindness
And to bring the kingdom of heaven to earth.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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I love you no more
I love you no more
I run from you at every open door
When I think of you my blood is cold
My tears are dry, my days grow old
I deem myself without you an empty life
A state of constant, stale, and vain strife
My hands start to shake
My skeleton rattles to break
And my heart is torn to pieces
My chest bursts
My veins explode
Drag me behind a galloping horse
Roll me from mountain heights
Turn off on me the world's lights
I will hear your voice no more
It will echo in the chamber of my heart
Lingering my pain, burning my flesh
Pounding my head, dashing my soul
I will bring you flowers no more
The sun from the sky has disappeared long
The birds among the trees stop their song
The cat had changed its voice in its corner crumbled
The dog had barked at me in dismay; I trembled
And my heart cries for mercy
My throat is choked with a strange disease
No medicine can redeem its ease
I will stop an ocean from flow
I will quench the volcano mountain from glow
I will block an avalanche or a whirling rain
But it is all in vain
No rest, No escape from your love
From your laugh
From your face
From your little perfect frame.
By foul, starry night I lingered on the damp lawn
for underfoot the hub was dry
And genial warmth, and over the sky
The silky haze of summer drawn
By its edge only one light cloud left
A reminder of the storm that passed
Of the love we lived of the life we shared
That came to an end
That was so soon cut short
Before we had time to grow old together
To feel to grasp the glory of the moment
The splendor of our rose
Pour acid on my face, guillotine my head
Announce to the world that I am dead
Cut the olive tree and shape my coffin
Chose the spot and dig my grave
Dig it deep beneath the earth
So I will avoid your laugh
So I will not hear your steps
Yet I doubt of all of this will help
You are imprinted in my soul
My grave is not an escape at all.
The bats went round endlessly in fragrant summer skies
And wheeled over and lit the filling shapes
That haunt the dusk with ermine capes
And woolly breasts and beaded eyes
An odd hunger seized my heart, so as if I only read
Of that glad years which once had been
In those fallen leaves which reaped their green
And now lie brown on the ground dead
And strangely on the silence around me broke
The silent speaking words, and strange
was love's dumb cry defying, ignoring our life's change
To test our worth to scrutinize the words we spoke
I am out of faith, of vigor, of bold, of walk of breath of dwell
No hope in sight, no wishing well
I live on doubts that drive the coward back
As if my life has no start no end no track
For suggestions to my inmost all
And all at once it seemed at last
The living soul, the solutions of all was flushed
But it is all too late, my love
Our love was brought to its final rest
Around its grave the flowers will grow and spread
Like infants peeping over a coffin of the dead
And my heart is sobbing
My soul sails in sea of sore and grief
An endless torture under unbreakable lease
I seek the strength in lying
Turn off the lights I am dying
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Aurobindo 183 Savitri Book 11
Goes on that voice of eternity making them force and soul
'You shall reveal to them the hidden eternities, '
The breath of infinitudes not yet revealed,
'But when the hour of the Divine draws near
The Mighty Mother shall take birth in Time
And God be born into the human clay
In forms made ready by your human lives.
Then shall the Truth supreme be given to men: '
'The incarnate dual Power shall open God's door,
Eternal supermind touch earthly Time.'
'The superman shall wake in mortal man'
'Then shall the earth be touched by the Supreme,
His bright unveiled Transcendence shall illumine
The mind and heart and force the life and act'
'All then shall change, a magic order come
Overtopping this mechanical universe.'
'A mightier race shall inhabit the mortal's world.'
'Then in the process of evolving Time
All shall be drawn into a single plan,
A divine harmony shall be earth's law,
Beauty and joy remould her way to live: '
'This world shall be God's visible garden-house,
The earth shall be a field and camp of God,
Man shall forget consent to mortality'
'This universe shall unseal its occult sense, '
Thus shall the earth open to divinity'
'Nature shall live to manifest secret God,
The Spirit shall take up the human play,
This earthly life become the life divine.'
I sigh, they sigh, when is this all o'Savitri.....
............My consciousness this moment,
O'Guru, I'm in awe....in invincible heights
Ineffable Thee embellishing poetic creation
My inquisitive apprehension, erring Thee may opine
May thereso, let Savitri in my self arise
Aroused thereso be knowledge and fortune
(An appreciation on Savitri-
Book Eleven: The Book of Everlasting Day
Canto One: The Eternal Day: The Soul's Choice
and the Supreme Consummation
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's)
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Moon-Struck
IT is a moor
Barren and treeless; lying high and bare
Beneath the archèd sky. The rushing winds
Fly over it, each with his strong bow bent
And quiver full of whistling arrows keen.
I am a woman, lonely, old, and poor.
If there be any one who watches me
(But there is none) adown the long blank wold,
My figure painted on the level sky
Would startle him as if it were a ghost,--
And like a ghost, a weary wandering ghost,
I roam and roam, and shiver through the dark
That will not hide me. O but for one hour,
One blessed hour of warm and dewy night,
To wrap me like a pall--with not an eye
In earth or heaven to pierce the black serene.
Night, call yet this? No night; no dark--no rest--
A moon-ray sweeps down sudden from the sky,
And smites the moor--
Is't thou, accursèd Thing,
Broad, pallid, like a great woe looming out--
Out of its long-sealed grave, to fill all earth
With its dead, ghastly smile? Art there again,
Round, perfect, large, as when we buried thee,
I and the kindly clouds that heard my prayers?
I'll sit me down and meet thee face to face,
Mine enemy!--Why didst thou rise upon
My world--my innocent world, to make me mad?
Wherefore shine forth, a tiny tremulous curve
Hung out in the gray sunset beauteously,
To tempt mine eyes--then nightly to increase
Slow orbing, till thy full, blank, pitiless stare
Hunts me across the world?
No rest--no dark.
Hour after hour that passionless bright face
Climbs up the desolate blue. I will press down
The lids on my tired eyeballs--crouch in dust,
And pray.
--Thank God, thank God!--a cloud has hid
My torturer. The night at last is free:
Forth peep in crowds the merry twinkling stars.
Ah, we'll shine out, the little silly stars
And I; we'll dance together across the moor,
They up aloft--I here. At last, at last
We are avengèd of our adversary!
The freshening of the night air feels like dawn.
Who said that I was mad? I will arise,
Throw off my burthen, march across the wold
Airily--Ha! what, stumbling? Nay, no fear--
I am used unto the dark, for many a year
Steering compassionless athwart the waste
To where, deep hid in valleys of white mist,
The pleasant home-lights shine. I will but pause,
Turn round and gaze--
O me! O miserable me!
The cloud-bank overflows: sudden outpour
The bright white moon-rays--ah! I drown, I drown,
And o'er the flood, with steady motion, slow
It walketh--my inexorable Doom.
No more: I shall not struggle any more:
I will lie down as quiet as a child,--
I can but die.
There, I have hid my face:
Stray travellers passing o'er the silent wold
Would only say, 'She sleeps.'
Glare on, my Doom;
I will not look at thee: and if at times
I shiver, still I neither weep nor moan:
Angels may see, I neither weep nor moan.
Was that sharp whistling wind the morning breeze
That calls the stars back to the obscure of heaven?
I am very cold.--And yet there is a change.
Less fiercely the sharp moonbeams smite my brain,
My heart beats slower, duller: soothing rest
Like a soft garment binds my shuddering limbs.--
If I looked up now, should I see it still
Gibbeted ghastly in the hopeless sky?--
No!
It is very strange: all things seem strange:
Pale spectral face, I do not fear thee now:
Was't this mere shadow which did haunt me once
Like an avenging fiend?--Well, we fade out
Together: I'll nor dread nor curse thee more.
How calm the earth seems! and I know the moor
Glistens with dew-stars. I will try and turn
My poor face eastward. Close not, eyes! That light
Fringing the far hills, all so fair--so fair,
Is it not dawn? I am dying, but 't is dawn.
'Upon the mountains I behold the feet
Of my Beloved: let us forth to meet'--
Death.
This is death. I see the light no more;
I sleep.
But like a morning bird my soul
Springs singing upward, into the deeps of heaven
Through world on world to follow Infinite Day.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Queen Mab: Part VI (excerpts)
"Throughout these infinite orbs of mingling light,
Of which yon earth is one, is wide diffus'd
A Spirit of activity and life,
That knows no term, cessation, or decay;
That fades not when the lamp of earthly life,
Extinguish'd in the dampness of the grave,
Awhile there slumbers, more than when the babe
In the dim newness of its being feels
The impulses of sublunary things,
And all is wonder to unpractis'd sense:
But, active, steadfast and eternal, still
Guides the fierce whirlwind, in the tempest roars,
Cheers in the day, breathes in the balmy groves,
Strengthens in health, and poisons in disease;
And in the storm of change, that ceaselessly
Rolls round the eternal universe and shakes
Its undecaying battlement, presides,
Apportioning with irresistible law
The place each spring of its machine shall fill;
So that when waves on waves tumultuous heap
Confusion to the clouds, and fiercely driven
Heaven's lightnings scorch the uprooted ocean-fords,
Whilst, to the eye of shipwreck'd mariner,
Lone sitting on the bare and shuddering rock,
All seems unlink'd contingency and chance,
No atom of this turbulence fulfils
A vague and unnecessitated task,
Or acts but as it must and ought to act.
Even the minutest molecule of light,
That in an April sunbeam's fleeting glow
Fulfils its destin'd, though invisible work,
The universal Spirit guides; nor less,
When merciless ambition, or mad zeal,
Has led two hosts of dupes to battlefield,
That, blind, they there may dig each other's graves,
And call the sad work glory, does it rule
All passions: not a thought, a will, an act,
No working of the tyrant's moody mind,
Nor one misgiving of the slaves who boast
Their servitude to hide the shame they feel,
Nor the events enchaining every will,
That from the depths of unrecorded time
Have drawn all-influencing virtue, pass
Unrecogniz'd or unforeseen by thee,
Soul of the Universe! eternal spring
Of life and death, of happiness and woe,
Of all that chequers the phantasmal scene
That floats before our eyes in wavering light,
Which gleams but on the darkness of our prison,
Whose chains and massy walls
We feel, but cannot see.
"Spirit of Nature! all-sufficing Power,
Necessity! thou mother of the world!
Unlike the God of human error, thou
Requir'st no prayers or praises; the caprice
Of man's weak will belongs no more to thee
Than do the changeful passions of his breast
To thy unvarying harmony: the slave,
Whose horrible lusts spread misery o'er the world,
And the good man, who lifts with virtuous pride
His being in the sight of happiness
That springs from his own works; the poison-tree,
Beneath whose shade all life is wither'd up,
And the fair oak, whose leafy dome affords
A temple where the vows of happy love
Are register'd, are equal in thy sight:
No love, no hate thou cherishest; revenge
And favouritism, and worst desire of fame
Thou know'st not: all that the wide world contains
Are but thy passive instruments, and thou
Regard'st them all with an impartial eye,
Whose joy or pain thy nature cannot feel,
Because thou hast not human sense,
Because thou art not human mind.
"Yes! when the sweeping storm of time
Has sung its death-dirge o'er the ruin'd fanes
And broken altars of the almighty Fiend
Whose name usurps thy honours, and the blood
Through centuries clotted there has floated down
The tainted flood of ages, shalt thou live
Unchangeable! A shrine is rais'd to thee,
Which, nor the tempest-breath of time,
Nor the interminable flood
Over earth's slight pageant rolling,
Availeth to destroy--
The sensitive extension of the world.
That wondrous and eternal fane,
Where pain and pleasure, good and evil join,
To do the will of strong necessity,
And life, in multitudinous shapes,
Still pressing forward where no term can be,
Like hungry and unresting flame
Curls round the eternal columns of its strength."
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Savage Time
Savage cruel Time that in your claws we deposit our trust
And youth, and our joy, and our all, whole we have and hope
And what we are paid back by your deceitful trade? earth and dust
In that dark eternal final state of grave with no upward slope
You take us, pluck us from the world; before we mature our ways
Shut up, closed and wrap in shroud the story of our undone days
Ah, from this earth, this grave this dust none of us revive or last
We are gone abandoned by all around; left with no trust
Daily we count the clock that measures you Time
And we watch bereft of a brave day sinking into hideous night
Our violet timid and shy yields to you its prime
as our heads all silvered over with white
And nothing against your scythe can make defense still
Unless we breed our beauties forth to escape your eternal skill
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Morning Spring
The foul mist has been replaced in the greening plain,
And the dew-drops shine on the ear lop of a balmy rose, not rain,
The coquette rose awakes facing East again
Its lovely self adorning in such fresh scent morning with no strain.
Oh, the vast plain is grassy, untamed wild and bare
Wild, wanton and wide open to the morning air
Which has built up everywhere
Making the little rabbit to the meadow tread and dare
upon the far horizon blue peaks in the distance rise
And ivory white against the cold sapphire sky
Shine out of the crowing crests of snow
Beneath their line the bushes stretching in a dominant grow
The morning wind is hiding, sighing, dodging among the trees,
A sighing, soothing, laughing tease, of glee, not tears
The sun is rising in bright dusk skies
Veils his fair head of glory while contently he spies
This morning it is my love unclouded luster of her eyes
Her beauty shines as nature does; and once it descried
The jealous vanquish roses lose their bursting pride
And back into their home buds their blushes hide
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God’s Lights
Morning’s painting on the sky above, covers this earth like a glove,
Clouds covered by the sun’s rays, filling earth with abundant praise.
With yet another day to unfold, of God’s wonderful Glory to behold,
The beauty fills hearts and minds, with awe for God’s grand design.
Before the sun is overhead, God paints the clouds a gorgeous red,
This as He moves earth out of night, into the brightness of daylight.
At times the sunlight He shrouds, hiding the sun behind the clouds,
Clouds God paints upon the sky, as wide and vast as they are high.
Although the sun is hid from sight, God keeps it there till fall of night,
Then it’s truly veiled from all eyes, by the ever darker evening skies.
When God shows us another side, as He allows the daylight to hide,
As night’s ushered in by Heaven, God’s lesser light starts to descend.
Now under an ever darker canopy, with lights far as the eye can see,
And the moon above phase by phase, to count both nights and days,
God starts with a new moon friend, with the full moon at month’s end.
This is how God lights the skies, above a world that is filled with eyes.
Lights placed above for all to see, by the hand of The God of Eternity.
The Greatest Light we cannot see; The One who died for you and me.
The Light of Christ soon will shine, from the Eternal City for all of time,
No more need of the moon or sun, for the only Light will be God’s Son.
Moving Through The Dew
I
Moving through the dew, moving through the dew,
Ere I waken in the city—Life, thy dawn makes all things new!
And up a fir-clad glen, far from all the haunts of men,
Up a glen among the mountains, oh my feet are wings again!
Moving through the dew, moving through the dew,
O mountains of my boyhood, I come again to you,
By the little path I know, with the sea far below,
And above, the great cloud-galleons with their sails of rose and snow
As of old, when all was young, and the earth a song unsung
And the heather through the crimson dawn its Eden incense flung
From the mountain-heights of joy, for a careless-hearted boy,
And the lavrocks rose like fountain sprays of bliss that ne’er could cloy,
From their little beds of bloom, from the golden gorse and broom,
With a song to God the Giver, o’er that waste of wild perfume;
Blowing from height to height, in a glory of great light,
While the cottage-clustered valleys held the lilac last of night,
So, when dawn is in the skies, in a dream, a dream, I rise,
And I follow my lost boyhood to the heights of Paradise.
Life, thy dawn makes all things new! Hills of Youth, I come to you,
Moving through the dew, moving through the dew.
II
Moving through the dew, moving through the dew,
Floats a brother’s face to meet me! Is it you? Is it you?
For the night I leave behind keeps these dazzled eyes still blind!
But oh, the little hill-flowers, their scent is wise and kind;
And I shall not lose the way from the darkness to the day,
While dust can cling as their scent clings to memory for aye;
And the least link in the chain can recall the whole again,
And heaven at last resume its far-flung harvests, grain by grain.
To the hill-flowers clings my dust, and tho’ eyeless Death may thrust
All else into the darkness, in their heaven I put my trust;
And a dawn shall bid me climb to the little spread of thyme
Where first I heard the ripple of the fountain-heads of rhyme.
And a fir-wood that I know, from dawn to sunset-glow,
Shall whisper to a lonely sea, that swings far, far below.
Death, thy dawn makes all things new. Hills of Youth, I come to you,
Moving through the dew, moving through the dew.
poem by Alfred Noyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thanatopsis
To him who in the love of nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
And eloquence of beauty; and she glides
Into his darker musings, with a mild
And healing sympathy that steals away
Their sharpness ere he is aware. When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
Over thy spirit, and sad images
Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart;--
Go forth, under the open sky, and list
To Nature's teachings, while from all around--
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air--
Comes a still voice. Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more
In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist
Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go
To mix forever with the elements,
To be a brother to the insensible rock
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mold.
Yet not to thine eternal resting-place
Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world -- with kings,
The powerful of the earth -- the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun, -- the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods -- rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,--
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom. -- Take the wings
Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness,
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound,
Save his own dashings -- yet the dead are there:
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep -- the dead reign there alone.
So shalt thou rest -- and what if thou withdraw
In silence from the living, and no friend
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glides away, the sons of men--
The youth in life's fresh spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron and maid,
The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man--
Shall one by one be gathered to thy side,
By those, who in their turn, shall follow them.
So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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