Epigram III: Spirit of Plato
From the Greek.
Eagle! why soarest thou above that tomb?
To what sublime and star-ypaven home
Floatest thou?--
I am the image of swift Plato’s spirit,
Ascending heaven; Athens doth inherit
His corpse below.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Epigram I: To Stella
From the Greek of Plato.
Thou wert the morning star among the living,
Ere thy fair light had fled;--
Now, having died, thou art as Hesperus, giving
New splendour to the dead.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Flower's Song
Star! Star, why dost thou shine
Each night upon my brow?
Why dost thou make me dream the dreams
That I am dreaming now?
Star! Star, thy home is high --
I am of humble birth;
Thy feet walk shining o'er the sky,
Mine, only on the earth.
Star! Star, why make me dream?
My dreams are all untrue;
And why is sorrow dark for me
And heaven bright for you?
Star! Star, oh, hide thy ray,
And take it off my face;
Within my lowly home I stay,
Thou, in thy lofty place.
Star! Star, and still I dream,
Along thy light afar
I seem to soar until I seem
To be, like you, a star.
poem by Abram Joseph Ryan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Charlotte Cushman
Look where a three-point star shall weave his beam
Into the slumb'rous tissue of some stream,
Till his bright self o'er his bright copy seem
Fulfillment dropping on a come-true dream;
So in this night of art thy soul doth show
Her excellent double in the steadfast flow
Of wishing love that through men's hearts doth go:
At once thou shin'st above and shin'st below.
E'en when thou strivest there within Art's sky
(Each star must o'er a strenuous orbit fly),
Full calm thine image in our love doth lie,
A Motion glassed in a Tranquillity.
So triple-rayed, thou mov'st, yet stay'st, serene --
Art's artist, Love's dear woman, Fame's good queen!
poem by Sidney Lanier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Procemion
IN His blest name, who was His own creation,
Who from all time makes making his vocation;
The name of Him who makes our faith so bright,
Love, confidence, activity, and might;
In that One's name, who, named though oft He be,
Unknown is ever in Reality:
As far as ear can reach, or eyesight dim,
Thou findest but the known resembling Him;
How high so'er thy fiery spirit hovers,
Its simile and type it straight discovers
Onward thou'rt drawn, with feelings light and gay,
Where'er thou goest, smiling is the way;
No more thou numbrest, reckonest no time,
Each step is infinite, each step sublime.
-----
WHAT God would outwardly alone control,
And on his finger whirl the mighty Whole?
He loves the inner world to move, to view
Nature in Him, Himself in Nature too,
So that what in Him works, and is, and lives,
The measure of His strength, His spirit gives.
-----
WITHIN us all a universe doth dwell;
And hence each people's usage laudable,
That ev'ry one the Best that meets his eyes
As God, yea e'en his God, doth recognise;
To Him both earth and heaven surrenders he,
Fears Him, and loves Him too, if that may be.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bewildered for M lady Tara
Art thou as pure as driven snow?
As virginal as thou dost seem.
An angel walking here below
or art thou but a fleeting dream.
Thou seemest to me to be real
Thine image nightly haunting me.
Into my dreams thy face doth steal
and smiles on me bewitchingly
I know not who or what thou art
but must suppose thou knowest me
and cast thy spell to claim my heart
Which I would give thee willingly
mayhap thou art a fantasy
I conjure up unconsciously.
09/07/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Holy Sonnet II: As Due By Many Titles I Resign
As due by many titles I resign
My self to Thee, O God; first I was made
By Thee, and for Thee, and when I was decayed
Thy blood bought that, the which before was Thine;
I am Thy son, made with Thy Self to shine,
Thy servant, whose pains Thou hast still repaid,
Thy sheep, thine image, and, till I betrayed
My self, a temple of Thy Spirit divine;
Why doth the devil then usurp on me?
Why doth he steal, nay ravish that's thy right?
Except thou rise and for thine own work fight,
Oh I shall soon despair, when I do see
That thou lov'st mankind well, yet wilt not choose me,
And Satan hates me, yet is loth to lose me.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Wounded Eagle
Eagle! this is not thy sphere!
Warrior-bird, what seek'st thou here?
Wherefore by the fountain's brink
Doth thy royal pinion sink?
Wherefore on the violet's bed
Lay'st thou thus thy drooping head?
Thou that hold'st the blast in scorn,
Thou that wear'st the wings of mourn.
Eagle! wilt thou not arise?
Look upon thine own bright skies!
Lift thy glance! the fiery sun
There his pride pf place has won,
And the mountain lark is there,
And sweet sound hath fill'd the air:
Hast thou left that realm on high?
-Oh, it can be but to die!
Eagle! Eagle! thou hast bowed
From thine empire o'er the cloud!
Thou that hadst ethereal birth,
Thou hast stoop'd too near the earth,
And the hunter's shaft hath found thee,
And the toils of death have bound thee,
Wherefore didst thou leave thy place,
Creature of a kingly race?
Wert thou weary of thy throne?
Was the sky's dominion lone?
Chill and lone it well might be,
Yet that mighty wing was free!
Now the chain is o'er thee cast:
From thy heart the blood flows fast,
Woe for gifted souls and high!
Is not such their destiny?
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Holy Sonnet 2
As due by many titles I resign
Myself to thee, O God, first I was made
By Thee, and for Thee, and when I was decay'd
Thy blood bought that, the which before was Thine.
I am Thy son, made with Thyself to shine,
Thy servant, whose pains Thou hast still repaid,
Thy sheep, Thine image, and—till I betray'd
Myself—a temple of Thy Spirit divine.
Why doth the devil then usurp on me?
Why doth he steal, nay ravish, that's Thy right?
Except Thou rise and for Thine own work fight,
O! I shall soon despair, when I shall see
That Thou lovest mankind well, yet wilt not choose me,
And Satan hates me, yet is loth to lose me.
poem by John Donne from Holy Sonnets
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet : From The Italian Of Cavalcanti
Returning from its daily quest, my Spirit
Changed thoughts and vile in thee doth weep to find:
It grieves me that thy mild and gentle mind
Those ample virtues which it did inherit
Has lost. Once thou didst loathe the multitude
Of blind and madding men--I then loved thee--
I loved thy lofty songs and that sweet mood
When thou wert faithful to thyself and me
I dare not now through thy degraded state
Own the delight thy strains inspire--in vain
I seek what once thou wert--we cannot meet
And we were wont. Again and yet again
Ponder my words: so the false Spirit shall fly
And leave to thee thy true integrity.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet 61: Is it thy will thy image should keep open
Is it thy will thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken
While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?
Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee
So far from home into my deeds to pry,
To find out shames and idle hours in me,
The scope and tenure of thy jealousy?
O, no, thy love, though much, is not so great;
It is my love that keeps mine eye awake,
Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy sake.
For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,
From me far off, with others all too near.
poem by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mighty Eagle
Mighty eagle! thou that soarest
O'er the misty mountain forest,
And amid the light of morning
Like a cloud of glory hiest,
And when night descends defiest
The embattled tempests’ warning!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Holy Sonnet II: As Due by Many Titles
As due by many titles I resigne
My selfe to thee, O God, first I was made
By thee, and for thee, and when I was decay'd
Thy blood bought that, the which before was thine;
I am thy sonne, made with thy selfe to shine,
Thy servant, whose paines thou hast still repaid,
Thy sheepe, thine Image, and, till I betray'd
My selfe, a temple of thy Spirit divine;
Why doth the devill then usurpe on mee?
Why doth he steale, nay ravish that's thy right?
Except thou rise and for thine own worke fight,
Oh I shall soone despaire, when I doe see
That thou lov'st mankind well, yet wilt'not chuse me,
And Satan hates mee, yet is loth to lose me.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Home Of The Spirit
Answer me, burning stars of night,
Where is the spirit gone,
That past the reach of human sight,
As a swift breeze hath flown?
And the stars answer'd me: 'We roll
In light and power on high;
But of the never-dying soul
Ask that which cannot die.'
O many-toned and chainless wind,
Thou art a wanderer free;
Tell me if thou its place canst find,
Far over mount and sea?
And the wind murmur'd in reply:
'The blue deep I have cross'd,
And met its barks and billows high,
But not what thou hast lost.'
Ye clouds that gorgeously repose
Around the setting sun,
Answer - Have ye a home for those
Whose earthly race is run?
The bright clouds answer'd: 'We depart,
We vanish from the sky;
Ask what is deathless in thy heart
For that which cannot die.'
Speak, then, thou voice of God within,
Thou of the deep low tone;
Answer me, through life's restless din -
Where is the spirit flown?
And the voice answer'd: 'Be thou still;
Enough to know is given;
Clouds, winds, and stars
their
part fulfil;
Thine
is to trust in Heaven.'
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Be Thou My Vision
Be thou my vision, oh lord of my heart
Nought be all else to me, save that thy art
Thou my best thought in the day and the night
Waking or sleeping, thou presence my light
Be thou my wisdom, be thou my true word
I ever with thee and thou with me lord
Thou my great father and I thy true son
Thou in me dwelling and I with thee one
Be thou my breastplate, my sword for the fight
Be thou my armour and be thou my might
Thou my soul shelter, and thy my high tower
Raise thou me heavenwards, oh power of my power
Riches I need not, nor mans empty praise
Thou mine inheritance through all of my days
Thou and thou only though first in my heart
High king of heaven my treasure thou art
Oh high king of heaven, when battle is done
Grant heavens joy to me, bright heaven sun
Christ of my own heart, whatever befall
Still be my vision, though ruler of all
Da, da, da, da, da, etc.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Freedom
Oft through my native land I roved before,
But never such a cheerful spirit bore.
When on its mother's breast a child I spy--
Hope in my inmost heart doth secret cry,
'Boy, thou art born within a favoring time,
Thine eyes shall glad escape old sights of crime.
Free as a child, thou can'st prove all and be
The forger sole of thine own destiny.
Peasant remain,--as to thy father given--
Or like the eagle swing thyself to heaven!'
Castles in air I build! Man's spirit opes
To many ways to frustrate all my hopes.
Though serfdom's sad conditions left behind,
Yet there be countless snares of varied kind!--
Well! Although the people soon may rend thee,
Let me, oh Freedom, a welcome send thee!
poem by Nikolay Alekseyevich Nekrasov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Our language
Thou, who sailest Norse mountain-air,
And Denmark's songs by the cradle singest,
Who badest in Hald the war-flames flare,
And, heard in our children's joy, gently ringest,-
Thou treasure of treasures,
Our mother-tongue,
In pains as in pleasures
Our home and our tower,
With God our power,-
We hallow thee!
Whispering secrets that Holberg stored,
Thou borest him home to a brighter morning,
Didst serve him with armor and whet his sword
For satire's assaults and for laughter's warning.
Thou spirit all knowing,
Our mother-tongue,
The ages foregoing,
The future now growing,
The present glowing,-
We hallow thee!
Kierkegaard thou to the deeps didst bring,
Where life's full currents in God he sounded.
For Wergeland wert thou the eagle's wing,
That lifted him sunward to heights unbounded.
Thou treasure of treasures,
Our mother-tongue,
In pain as in pleasures
Our home and our tower,
With God our power,-
We hallow thee!
Radiant warmth of a May-day
Thou to the spring of our freedom gavest.
In thy clearness our Norse flags aye
With song and honor afar thou wavest.
Thou spirit all knowing,
Our mother-tongue,
The ages foregoing,
The future now growing,
The present glowing,-
We hallow thee!
O'er the ocean unrollest thou
Thy carpet of flowers, a bridge that nigher
Can bring dear friends to meet even now,-
While faith grows greater and heaven higher.
Thou treasure of treasures,
Our mother-tongue,
In pain as in pleasures
Our home and our tower,
With God our power,-
We hallow thee!
Best of friends that I found wert thou;
Thou waitedst for me in the eyes of mother.
And leave me last of them all wilt thou,
Who knewest me better than any other.
Thou spirit all knowing,
Our mother-tongue,
The ages foregoing,
The future now growing,
The present glowing,-
We hallow thee!
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Requiescat in Pace Terra Amare
Bereft of mine love's grace no earthily love to dole
Dearth is her love to the detriment of mine soul
I'll always gaze at her opaque image and wonder
What love could be like if we not lived asunder
Why my soul mate dared to reject me?
And why was love not woven into my destiny?
My love is a phantom, a mistress I cry to
When love I do not have to sweeten mine rue..
I shan't forsake earthily love, for there never was
Love to forsake; it must be dead, when love doth die?
It must died on thy lips when no love thou spoke
Died on thy heart from the dead thou never awoke.
If thou took thy image of me, and took my image of thee
And sweetly blended, thou would get love, transformed completely
But I'll never know as love never knew me, for my love thou killed
when thou chose me not. Now I won't dream of thee alive
so you can live and taunt me with no love and deprive
thy treacherous soul who mates not with me…
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Image Of God (From The Spanish Of Francisco De Aldana)
O Lord! who seest, from yon starry height
Centred in one the future and the past
Fashioned in thine own image, see
The world obscures in me what once was bright!
Eternal Sun! the warmth which thou hast given,
To cheer life's flowery April, fast decays;
Yet in the hoary winter of my days,
For ever green shall be my trust in Heaven.
Celestial King! Oh let thy presence pass
Before my spirit, and an image fair
Shall meet that look of mercy from on high,
As the reflected image in a glass
Doth meet the look of him who seeks it there,
And owes its being to the gazer's eye.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tudun-Murtala
Sweet birth……Sweet home
Dropped in you in eighty one
Tudun-Murtala thou art my birth home
So sweet so solace a home
The home is so serene
In thee I still live
Thou scent fragrance
Thou art beautiful to my eye
Sweet birth……Sweet home
May I die in thee
And my tomb build in thee
And no one can disturb me
Thou art so solace a home
poem by Mahamma Adrianne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Psalm 23
The Lord, the Lord, my Shepherd is,
And so can never I
Taste misery:
He rests me in green pastures His:
By waters still and sweet,
He guides my feet.
He me revives; leads me the way
Which righteousness doth take,
For his name's sake:
Yea, though I should through valleys stray
Of death's dark shade, I will
No whit fear ill.
For Thou, dear Lord, Thou me besettest
Thy rod and thy staff be
To comfort me:
Before me Thou a table settest,
Even when foe's envious eye
Doth it espy.
Thou oilst my head, Thou fillest my cup;
Nay more, Thou endless good,
Shalt give me food.
To Thee, I say, ascended up,
Where Thou, the Lord of all,
Dost hold thy hall.
poem by Philip Sidney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!