Twilight
'Twixt a smile and a tear,
'Twixt a song and a sigh,
'Twixt the day and the dark,
When the night draweth nigh.
Ah, sunshine may fade
From the heavens above,
No twilight have we
To the day of our love.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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0092 The Signs of Love
What are the inward signs of truest love,
beyond the smile, the kiss, the touch of hand,
that joins our actions to the heaven above;
that constant love which shall for ever stand?
I see two inward signs above all else:
the first, expansion of the bounds of mind
so that no barrier stands 'twixt that and this,
'twixt one and t'other, or 'twixt 'mine' and 'thine';
the second sign, a fine attention brought
to every single action, every need,
as if in loving care, there's but one thought
from constant heart flows into every deed;
these two - a boundless mind and ceaseless care -
pass space and time: the proof that love is here.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A client twixt his attorney and counselor is like a goose twixt two foxes.
For the Bed at Kelmscott
The wind's on the wold
And the night is a-cold,
And Thames runs chill
'Twixt mead and hill.
But kind and dear
Is the old house here
And my heart is warm
'Midst winter's harm.
Rest then and rest,
And think of the best
'Twixt summer and spring,
When all birds sing
In the town of the tree,
And ye in me
And scarce dare move,
Lest earth and its love
Should fade away
Ere the full of the day.
I am old and have seen
Many things that have been;
Both grief and peace
And wane and increase
No tale I tell
Of ill or well,
But this I say:
Night treadeth on day,
And for worst or best
Right good is rest.
poem by William Morris
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In the Land of Zephyr...
The wind scooped out the snow,
twirl, splashing the rowan in slumber,
shook its boughs of snow;
to emerald green rife with crimson.
The wind like a sot,
'twixt through woods;
In the woods, spruces of snow,
hailed the wind to mystique umber,
here, with rubble rills row;
here, wild lives in unison.
The wind like a sot,
'twixt through lea, afar woods;
Lea, where near crystal brooks, cows mow,
here, in meadows, mouse grows cucumber,
here, merlins, as I know;
swirls with wind to horizon.
The wind like a sot,
'twixt, aloft heaven, afar woods, afar lea...
poem by Aparna Veeyou
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Pray But One Prayer For Us
Pray but one prayer for me ’twixt thy closed lips,
Think but one thought of me up in the stars.
The summer night waneth, the morning light slips,
Faint and grey ’twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars,
That are patiently waiting there for the dawn
Patient and colourless, though Heaven’s gold
Waits to float through them along with the sun.
Far out in the meadows, above the young corn,
The heavy elms wait, and restless and cold
The uneasy wind rises; the roses are dim;
Through the long twilight they pray for the dawn,
Round the lone house in the midst of the corn.
Speak but one word to me over the corn,
Over the tender, bow’d locks of the corn.
poem by William Morris
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Summer Dawn
Pray but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips,
Think but one thought of me up in the stars.
The summer night waneth, the morning light slips,
Faint and grey 'twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars
That are patiently waiting there for the dawn:
Patient and colourless, though Heaven's gold
Waits to float through them along with the sun.
Far out in the meadows, above the young corn,
The heavy elms wait, and restless and cold
The uneasy wind rises; the roses are dun;
Through the long twilight they pray for the dawn,
Round the lone house in the midst of the corn,
Speak but one word to me over the corn,
Over the tender, bow'd locks of the corn.
poem by William Morris
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Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: II
Yes, who shall tell the value of our tears,
Whether we wept aright or idly grieved?
There is a tragedy in unloved years,
And in those passionate hours by love deceived,
In lips unkissed and hopes too soon bereaved,
And youth's high courage which no strength could save,
And manhood's web of fate by folly weaved,
And grey--haired grief brought down into the grave.
Who shall distinguish truly and be wise
'Twixt grief and grief, 'twixt night and night? The sun
Has its own sorrow and a voice that cries
Louder than darkness of its joys undone,
And pleads with that exceeding bitter cry,
``I have tasted honey, and behold, I die!''
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Break of Dawn
Slats of sunshine…
laddered light
Beating back
the Stygian night
Fireflies clothed
in orbs of gold
Seek sleepy refuge,
from pre-dawn cold
While daybreak dithers…
Twixt dark and light
poem by David Whalen
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Poem 93
TO whom his mother closely smiling sayd,
twixt earnest and twixt game:
See thou thy selfe likewise art lyttle made,
if thou regard the same.
And yet thou suffrest neyther gods in sky,
nor men in earth to rest:
But when thou art disposed cruelly,
theyr sleepe thou doost molest.
Then eyther change thy cruelty,
or giue lyke leaue vnto the fly.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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A Song Of Eternity In Time
Once, at night, in the manor wood
My Love and I long silent stood,
Amazed that any heavens could
Decree to part us, bitterly repining.
My Love, in aimless love and grief,
Reached forth and drew aside a leaf
That just above us played the thief
And stole our starlight that for us was shining.
A star that had remarked her pain
Shone straightway down that leafy lane,
And wrought his image, mirror-plain,
Within a tear that on her lash hung gleaming.
"Thus Time," I cried, "is but a tear
Some one hath wept 'twixt hope and fear,
Yet in his little lucent sphere
Our star of stars, Eternity, is beaming."
poem by Sidney Lanier
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It's My Heart's Song Ringing
It's my heart's song ringing
Singing special for my soul
Of the weedy hues waving
'twixt and 'twixt and weaving
AS red and pink and blue parole
White and yellow on the whole
It's my heart's song ringing
Singing special for my soul
Of the sunshine when in rising
As it there and there passing
Gold and silver set to enroll
When I blink for words to extol
It's my heart's song ringing
Singing special for my soul
Of greens and pines and all pining
As they range in rows all upping
Bush and breeze in hush and cajole
Heavenly chimes when play their role
It's my heart's song ringing
Singing special for my soul
Of the descent of water falling
Down in silence a stream rippling
Azured when she with morning tole
Astir green mountainous all an aureole
It's my heart's song ringing
Singing special for my soul
Of land and amber as sun's setting
Sky and grey as light is dimming
Star and silver when seen in pole
Sheeny moon in brightened control
It's my heart's song ringing
Singing special for my soul
Of days this way fast passing
By the window side me sitting
Stable there a heaven to insoul
For this oldie a salvational goal
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Houses
1898 -- A Song of the Dominions
'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad,
In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard;
By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,
On thy house and my house lies half the world's hate.
For my house and thy house no help shall we find
Save thy house and my house -- kin cleaving to kind;
If my house be taken, thine tumbleth anon.
If thy house be forfeit, mine followeth soon.
'Twixt my house and thy house what talk can there be
Of headship or lordship, or service or fee?
Since my house to thy house no greater can send
Than thy house to my house -- friend comforting friend;
And thy house to my house no meaner can bring
Than my house to thy house -- King counselling King.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Twixt And Between Ideals
Twixt and between ideals.
With a wish to select those most appealing.
And give a toss to the ones...
Many will not welcome to approve them done.
Some ideals are too complex.
Especially those that connect,
To self reflection and accountability.
They are the ones the most distasteful..
The ones more acceptable,
Are those with counterfeited empathy.
You know...that kind no one commits to,
But forges upon others to believe.
Twixt and between ideals.
With a wish to select those most appealing.
And give a toss to the ones...
Many will not welcome to approve them done.
At least not the ones,
Remotely associated with reality.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Avising The Bright Beams
Avising the bright beams of these fair eyes
Where he is that mine oft moisteth and washeth,
The wearied mind straight from the heart departeth
For to rest in his worldly paradise
And find the sweet bitter under this guise.
What webs he hath wrought well he perceiveth
Whereby with himself on love he plaineth
That spurreth with fire and bridleth with ice.
Thus is it in such extremity brought,
In frozen thought, now and now it standeth in flame.
Twixt misery and wealth, twixt earnest and game,
But few glad, and many diverse thought
With sore repentance of his hardiness.
Of such a root cometh fruit fruitless.
poem by Sir Thomas Wyatt
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Avising The Bright Beams of These Fair Eyes
Avising the bright beams of these fair eyes
Where he is that mine oft moisteth and washeth,
The wearied mind straight from the heart departeth
For to rest in his worldly paradise
And find the sweet bitter under this guise.
What webs he hath wrought well he perceiveth
Whereby with himself on love he plaineth
That spurreth with fire and bridleth with ice.
Thus is it in such extremity brought,
In frozen thought, now and now it standeth in flame.
Twixt misery and wealth, twixt earnest and game,
But few glad, and many diverse thought
With sore repentance of his hardiness.
Of such a root cometh fruit fruitless.
poem by David McKee Wright
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Air and Angels
Twice or thrice had I loved thee,
Before I knew thy face or name;
So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame
Angels affect us oft, and worshipp'd be.
Still when, to where thou wert, I came,
Some lovely glorious nothing did I see.
But since my soul, whose child love is,
Takes limbs of flesh, and else could nothing do,
More subtle than the parent is
Love must not be, but take a body too;
And therefore what thou wert, and who,
I bid Love ask, and now
That it assume thy body, I allow,
And fix itself in thy lip, eye, and brow.
Whilst thus to ballast love I thought,
And so more steadily to have gone,
With wares which would sink admiration,
I saw I had love's pinnace overfraught;
Thy every hair for love to work upon
Is much too much; some fitter must be sought;
For, nor in nothing, nor in things
Extreme, and scattering bright, can love inhere;
Then as an angel face and wings
Of air, not pure as it, yet pure doth wear,
So thy love may be my love's sphere;
Just such disparity
As is 'twixt air's and angels' purity,
'Twixt women's love, and men's, will ever be.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Upon The Sudden Restraint Of The Earl Of Somerset, Then Falling From Favour
Dazled thus with height of place,
Whilst our Hopes our wits Beguile,
No man marks the narrow space
'Twixt a Prison and a Smile.
Then since Fortunes favours fade,
You that in her arms do sleep,
Learn to swim and not to wade;
For the Hearts of Kings are deep.
But if Greatness be so blind,
As to trust in Towers of Air,
Let it be with Goodness lin'd,
That at least the Fall be fair.
Then though darkned you shall say,
When Friends fail and Princes frown,
Vertue is the roughest way,
But proves at night a Bed of Down.
poem by Henry Wotton
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Epiphany
What link could it be
Twixt our hearts and His or Hers
Tear-drops' entreaty
Sorrow helps build steps concealed
Godly feet washed to descend
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Life's Longings
Down in dark doldrums fears fixate
upon vast gap twixt heavens high
and quandary's kernel: Time flies by,
love leaves, heart grieves regrets too late.
Age rues youth's fizzle, former state,
hopes hinging on dea[r]th's mirthless 'why? '
as jeroboam from which fly
can't drain a drop, perpetuate
life's longings, cannot integrate
dust sediment in desert dry,
or moth-less yucca stamen shy
where stigma vainly contemplate
that Death's dark drizzle/sizzle lasts.
Deprived of hummus, humour fasts.
poem by Jonathan Robin (14 March 2010)
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Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.
quote by Lord Byron
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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