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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Related quotes
Sonnet: When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high piled books, in charactry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love; -- then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.
poem by John Keats
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When I Have Fears
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
poem by John Keats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When I have Fears that I may cease to be
WHEN I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high pil`d books, in charact'ry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And feel that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think,
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.
poem by John Keats
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My Utmost Fears
My utmost fears that I may one day cease to be
Before my quill has gleaned my still teeming brain
Too long before my piled childhood pains have been expressed in plea
Being held like rich garners full of ripen grain
As I behold, upon the deepened vaults of night's starred face
All decorated with high symbols of divine icons and romance
And to think that I may not forever live to adore and to trace
The secrets, the shadows and their magic chance
And when I see any piece of beauty presented by the hour
In full lament I shall be for I never look upon thee any more
How I relinquish the relish in observing the universe power
The skies, the sea and the vast sand on elongated shore
Upon the echoing dunes of solitary shore
I stand alone stunned with the beach stones to think
How what is, becomes no more
How love and fame are closed, to nothingness sink
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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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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Of human bondage
When my love and I mutually swear that we both are made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she is fickle; full of frauds and dry lies,
Making me wondering if she might think me some untutored youth,
Unlearnèd in the ways of the vast world's false cunning subtleties.
Thus lying to each other, I cannot tell if she thinks me young,
Although in her mind she knows my days are past their best,
Being an occasional adulterous myself, I credit her false-speaking tongue;
On both sides hypocrisy thrives and thus is simple truth suppressed.
But wherefore I can never say or guess when and if she is unjust?
Consuming fresh young flesh wherefore say not I that I am old?
The thrusting thought that love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love, loves not to have years told.
Therefore I do bed her, and she does bed me,
And in our faults by lies and by false evasive excuses we flattered be.
Beware when being seduced by sweet fresh younger nymph's kind
Love becomes a monster that plays havoc with your mind
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Against Their Human Rights
How many times have I heard them say
it’s against his human rights
when a killer goes to court?
Hey, but what about the victim
and his or her family.
Don’t they have human rights too?
Is it only the killers who have human rights?
It really makes you wonder.
They commit a crime against
someone innocent in our society.
Then you get some idiot
starts shouting their punishment
is against their human rights.
Now what would happen if that idiot
lost a family member to some killer?
Would they still be shouting
and waving banners about his human rights?
I sincerely doubt it;
they’d probably say like a lot of us
that the killer has no human rights.
They forfeited them the day
they took someone’s life.
We may forgive them
for what they do,
but they must still take the punishment
the Courts of the land hand down.
13 February 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Love lost
She was so cruel and capricious making me bury our love
Not in a grave yard under a sluttish tomb stone
But beneath a tall oak tree of a forest dark, wide and alone
Where none can come across or see from above
There will be no memorial days or sad hours
And I shall never visit the tree or put flowers
Yet the mouth I loved so much to kiss and to treat
Was none like so daring and bittersweet
I shall never go to the under tree love grave
For the woods are hostile, dark and cold
My time I shall for new love save
New love, new joy, constrain the rebel heart, forget the old
All day long I shall stay in the sun
Where the wide winds blow and flowers bloom
But oh, I shall cry at night for my sorrow is still undone
When none will know my time of agony and gloom
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In the inferno of my love session
In the inferno of my love session
And in the madness of my passion
It was heedless on my part
To empower and to delegate authority to my heart
Once bestowed merely on my reason
Herein my reasons I construe
Because my feelings were so full and overwhelming
I could see you in my soul
So much in my soul whole
That I spoke to you within my soul
To such madness I had come
In the blessing of your love
That even imagined your slightest boon
Could drive me to delirium
This I find in my affection
And even more that I cannot convey
But you, from all I did not say
Will sense the love beyond expression
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The soul and the core of every language
The soul and the core of every language
lie in the lines and rhymes of its poetry
As the divine poets spirit should
Guide us to built our emerging human hood
With universal sublime inner soul nurturing food
Drawn and scale in select proportion fair
From honest mold and vagabond air
From that foul awful dreadful night
Into joyful rebirth bright day light
From antique ashes, whose departed flame
In us a finer life and a longer instated fame
From injuries and wounds; pains and balms
From the quiet after storm that calms
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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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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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Who would be there to tell me
Who would be there to tell me
When I catch my falling star
where all my past years are
Many friends of mine in owe and plea
The ones I stirred for love like industrious bee
Here rests his head upon the lap of earth
A man to fortune and to fame is unknown
Fair science frowned not in his humble birth
And misfortune with melancholy marked him for their own
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere
Heaven did a recommence as largely said
He gave to misery all he had, a tear
He gained from Heaven, it was all he wished, he never fret
No further seek his merits to disclose
Or draw his frailties from their clear abode
There they alike in trembling hope repose
The bosom of his soul believes and God
Let the moon climb over the grave into the vaults of the skies
How silent is the world, and how with a wane dimming face
What, may it be that even in Heavenly eternal place
This divine archer, this Queen of the night her sharp arrows tries
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A walk in the park
I saw them walking in a park under bright summer day
She and him in a walk of lovers calm pray
He the man I might have grown to be
She my lover, I so yearn to live and love in rapture and glee
His hair was full in mane drawing light and people sight
Tall and handsome, an ora in stature and in height
Unlike me of insignificant form and small diminished frame
Shall I compare myself to him, I can make no claim
Yet His body was a thing grown thin stark,
Like as if hungry for love that never came;
His soul was frozen in the park so aimless and dark,
Unwarmed untouched forever by love's flame.
I felt my lover instantaneously look at him
And then turn suddenly to me –
Her eyes were magic to defy in grim
The unfortunate compare I dread; the man I shall never be.
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Temptation lurks
There is a pleasure in unploughed fields and in pathless woods
There is rapture and boyish excitement on lonely pebbled shore
There is freedom where none intrudes
The deep moving sea and the music in its roar
I love not my lover the less, but whole humanity more
Especially the feminine walking creatures; the look I steal
From all the beauties in crowded streets and fashion stores
They are like blossom of fresh flowers in throngs
Of dull existence; weeds of insipid wild thorns
To be with them all; among them whole and feel
what I can never express, yet cannot from within conceal
And yet, the expense of dignity is in the waste of shame
When lust is in action, how long does action last
Is it not perjured, murderous, bloody, irreversible damage full of defame
Indeed it is savage, extreme, rude a habit not to trust
All this is well known, yet none knows well
To shun temptation that leads men to shame and to hell
Who but fool to enjoy the fresh flesh which no sooner despised straight
It skips reason warnings and sooner had
Reason and logic hated as it swallowed the bait
A tempestuous bait on purpose made to make the taker mad
Wild and obsessed in pursue and in possession
In zeal and in delirium for the next adulterous session
A bliss in question that breeds lies and counterfeits vast as the sea sand
A world to collapse, the slightest true wind blow it would not stand
So let not my love in adultery be called
She is kind, fair and true
Fair, kind, and true so often lived alone in none
This triumvirate until I knew my love never kept a seat in one
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How about dawn?
How about dawn?
Do you like dawn descending on Blue Mountains tops?
Or may be a background with another hue
will better fit your view?
Then let us pretend there will be no dawn
No morning no new days
we all in a glorious kingdom of the moon
Where silence and dark mingle so beautifully
The bewitched gloom of the night
be our friends
Where two beings would walk wordless, speechless
with green tuft on their both sides
with the grass blades gilded in the moon sheen
No word exchange between them
without a word they know how much they love each another
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Late contemplation
I keep asking myself the question, but myself has no answer for me
I am either overwhelmed with happiness or being gilded with gloom
And I bounce between peaks and depths of moods with dreadful time at my trail looms
Age has made me what I am not now
And every wrinkle tells me where in my youth the plow
Of time has furrowed, when an ice shall flow
Through every vein of mine and all my head wear snow
I wish, not even that for I am bald even before my time
I will be deprived of this glorious aging, the contend with death
will bare no signs of glory
When death displays his color of coldness in my cheek
And I, myself in past own picture seek
Not finding what I am, but what I was
In terrible doubt and confusion which to bless, this or my glass
Yet though my outer has altered, I remain the same
The same spirit and the same soul trapped in a frail, failing frame
And the sight of first complexion in maiden; here as wild as it can be seen
As blood rush on cheek and chin
The first thrill and rapture of youth in high school yard, such a pleasure to the eye
The ruddy lips of giggling maids and hair of youthful glossy dye
The picture of me in a middle of wide meadows in early spring
Where wild tulips called their reign upon hills in expending rings
The cheery stood proud with balmy bloom upon the boughs
And the grass wrapped with smell of fresh horse hoofs
A beautiful maid passed in the meadows
And her hair waved in whirling gales and dappling shadows
I was a free child then, enfranchised and at large
The immense struck of pleasures that her sight
On me bestowed, her forms of beauty often stayed with me
Passing even into my purer mind
With tranquil restoration these feeling
Of unremembered obscure joys.
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Shall I care?
Shall I care at all, that in the dreams and in the languor of time
My poetry does not show me and my inner most being and prime
For my poems are fragrance, and not a credible reflection
Words like shadows in disharmony dance and daunt imagination
But I do care, for life will be over so soon,
And I will be lost, forgotten as my being never happen
Like a small candle in mid day bright noon
And my quill idle, blunt and not sharpen
yet, like barley bending in harsh summer winds throng
And rising again and again
So would I, free and unbroken rise from agony and pain
Day long, night long change my sorrow into words of song
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