The Splendid Silent Sun
'Give me the splendid silent sun,
with all his beams full-dazzling.'
Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892)
i have seen what
you have seen
and it is too much of
a good thing
to be called
wonderful,
the dazzling the
silence
the resplendent
sun amidst
the breasts of the
hills.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Give me the splendid silent sun with all his beams full-dazzling.
quote by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O Sun Of Real Peace
O SUN of real peace! O hastening light!
O free and extatic! O what I here, preparing, warble for!
O the sun of the world will ascend, dazzling, and take his height--
and you too, O my Ideal, will surely ascend!
O so amazing and broad--up there resplendent, darting and burning!
O vision prophetic, stagger'd with weight of light! with pouring
glories!
O lips of my soul, already becoming powerless!
O ample and grand Presidentiads! Now the war, the war is over!
New history! new heroes! I project you!
Visions of poets! only you really last! sweep on! sweep on!
O heights too swift and dizzy yet! 10
O purged and luminous! you threaten me more than I can stand!
(I must not venture--the ground under my feet menaces me--it will not
support me:
O future too immense,)--O present, I return, while yet I may, to you.
poem by Walt Whitman
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An Apple from Walt Whitman
There's never been a poet where I live,
but I grew up in the shade of Whitman's name:
born in West Hills—our hills—he would have walked
our paths along the crest. I walked Whitman Road,
crashed the Whitman Drive-In, stole a book
from the sci-fi rack at the Melville-Whitman Pharmacy,
even played lacrosse against Whitman High;
we lost three times, the guys from Halfway Hollow,
to young men with Whitman in white on their varsity jackets.
My mother tells a story about Thanksgiving,
back when kids went begging in rags and blackface:
how Carrie Wicks's sister said she got
an apple from Walt Whitman, right at his house,
an old man with a beard. The big kids laughed,
knowing the white-haired caretaker was no one.
I set no foot inside the Whitman House
or Leaves of Grass till after I went away,
but I'm better having grown up with the name,
the house and hills of a poet everyone knew,
a poet big enough in the mothers' stories
for a girl to believe he came to the door with a long
white beard and smiled and handed her an apple.
If a poet the size of Whitman named our few
square miles and a few in Jersey it's going to take
a lot more big ones to hand us all a welcome
sweet as a Thanksgiving apple from Walt Whitman,
white-haired care-taker, seed of mothers' stories,
Appleseed of our poetry: nourishment, shade.
poem by Eric Torgersen
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Give Me The Splendid, Silent Sun
GIVE me the splendid silent sun, with all his beams full-dazzling;
Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard;
Give me a field where the unmow'd grass grows;
Give me an arbor, give me the trellis'd grape;
Give me fresh corn and wheat--give me serene-moving animals, teaching
content;
Give me nights perfectly quiet, as on high plateaus west of the
Mississippi, and I looking up at the stars;
Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers, where I can
walk undisturb'd;
Give me for marriage a sweet-breath'd woman, of whom I should never
tire;
Give me a perfect child--give me, away, aside from the noise of the
world, a rural, domestic life;
Give me to warble spontaneous songs, reliev'd, recluse by myself, for
my own ears only; 10
Give me solitude--give me Nature--give me again, O Nature, your
primal sanities!
--These, demanding to have them, (tired with ceaseless excitement,
and rack'd by the war-strife;)
These to procure, incessantly asking, rising in cries from my heart,
While yet incessantly asking, still I adhere to my city;
Day upon day, and year upon year, O city, walking your streets,
Where you hold me enchain'd a certain time, refusing to give me up;
Yet giving to make me glutted, enrich'd of soul--you give me forever
faces;
(O I see what I sought to escape, confronting, reversing my cries;
I see my own soul trampling down what it ask'd for.)
Keep your splendid, silent sun; 20
Keep your woods, O Nature, and the quiet places by the woods;
Keep your fields of clover and timothy, and your corn-fields and
orchards;
Keep the blossoming buckwheat fields, where the Ninth-month bees hum;
Give me faces and streets! give me these phantoms incessant and
endless along the trottoirs!
Give me interminable eyes! give me women! give me comrades and lovers
by the thousand!
Let me see new ones every day! let me hold new ones by the hand every
day!
Give me such shows! give me the streets of Manhattan!
Give me Broadway, with the soldiers marching--give me the sound of
the trumpets and drums!
(The soldiers in companies or regiments--some, starting away, flush'd
and reckless;
Some, their time up, returning, with thinn'd ranks--young, yet very
old, worn, marching, noticing nothing;) 30
--Give me the shores and the wharves heavy-fringed with the black
ships!
O such for me! O an intense life! O full to repletion, and varied!
The life of the theatre, bar-room, huge hotel, for me!
The saloon of the steamer! the crowded excursion for me! the torch-
light procession!
The dense brigade, bound for the war, with high piled military wagons
following;
People, endless, streaming, with strong voices, passions, pageants;
Manhattan streets, with their powerful throbs, with the beating
drums, as now;
The endless and noisy chorus, the rustle and clank of muskets, (even
the sight of the wounded;)
Manhattan crowds, with their turbulent musical chorus--with varied
chorus, and light of the sparkling eyes;
Manhattan faces and eyes forever for me. 40
poem by Walt Whitman
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A Different Sky Is Waiting
We’ve been in the rain so long
That our eyes are sore and red;
When joy is missing,
We gaze down too long at our feet
As we slowly walk through the city,
But there must be a different sky waiting
Offering love and inspiration.
Beneath these yellow factory skies,
Even the street lights look sadly dim,
Like our spiritual light within
Blurred by an affectionless life.
Things began to change
When I met you in a small bar
Not far from the school where you teach;
I saw Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass
Easing out of your purse,
I knew we had to talk.
As we spoke over drinks
In the early evening,
I felt loneliness begin to lift
Like dark persistent clouds
Being pushed aside by sunlight,
As if Walt Whitman were sending us
Prayers mingled with lilacs.
Indeed, there is a different sky waiting,
Azure blue and dazzling,
Inviting flowers to bloom
On romantic avenues
When two people finally find each other.
In my mind I have already seen
You smile in a summer dress
Beneath a different sky welcoming our love.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Dazzling Hues
Golden sunshine goes streaming down the hills,
Lighting those slender, beaming daffodils.
Warming breezes skilfully wend their way,
Coaxing flowers to elegantly sway.
Spring whose colours boast such splendid views,
Tantalise the eyes with dazzling hues.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Christmas Is Here
Christmas is here
Snowflakes filling the air
People rushing past every display
No time for napping
Theres buying and then wrapping
The gifts to be given away
Sparkling lights
All the dazzling sights
Christmas trees loaded with joy
Hearts full of giving
Children are living
For what could be their favorite toy
Christmas is here
Christmas is here
Its a wonderful time of the year
Christmas is here
Christmas is here
Its a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful time of the year
Families together
No matter the weather
Feasting and fun is the goal
Grandma is making
Sugar cookies are baking
To warm up the body and soul
Full decoration
In anticipation of times
Marked with laughter and cheer
And day long awaited
And much celebrated
Christmas is finally here
Christmas is here
Its a wonderful time of the year
Christmas is here
Christmas is here
Its a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful time of the year
A festive occasion
A welcome invasion
Of carolers filling the air
Song of rejoicing
And everyone voicing
A story of hope we all share
Christmas is here
Christmas is here
Its wonderful time of the year
Christmas is here
Christmas is here
Its a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful time of the year
Christmas is here
Its a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful time of the year
Christmas is finally here
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sobbing Of The Bells
THE sobbing of the bells, the sudden death-news everywhere,
The slumberers rouse, the rapport of the People,
(Full well they know that message in the darkness,
Full well return, respond within their breasts, their brains, the sad
reverberations,)
The passionate toll and clang--city to city, joining, sounding,
passing,
Those heart-beats of a Nation in the night.
poem by Walt Whitman
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In America the young are always ready to give to those who are older than themselves the full benefits of their inexperience.
quote by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lo! Victress On The Peaks
LO! Victress on the peaks!
Where thou, with mighty brow, regarding the world,
(The world, O Libertad, that vainly conspired against thee;)
Out of its countless beleaguering toils, after thwarting them all;
Dominant, with the dazzling sun around thee,
Flauntest now unharm'd, in immortal soundness and bloom--lo! in these
hours supreme,
No poem proud, I, chanting, bring to thee--nor mastery's rapturous
verse;
But a book, containing night's darkness, and blood-dripping wounds,
And psalms of the dead.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Dawn
It is such a dazzling sky
That I can't rise my eyes when
Sun arises across hills.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Redeeming Mercy
dazzling mercy please descend on me
I'm walking in the paths where eyes cannot see
My feet has been kicking huddles far too long
It is wearing and the road seems too wrong
I want to try other way but i'm barricade by un seen walls
I have tried to shout but may mouth seems to be sending dumb calls
Glaring mercy please come dwell in me
You are the only thing I aught to have for free
Since I came to compete in this endless race
I have have been offer nothing free to embrace
The keeper of mercy, please do a favore for me
I have been working in my hamlet so honestly
My brothers with perverted ways seem to be dancing in your gift
Did they steal it? No, no one had ever been on that lift
Dear GOD, I know you will give me your mercy
I will be patient. That's all you want from me
Dazzling, glaring mercy come redeemed me
The globe is dark, everyone is deaf and we can't see
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
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By Broad Potomac's Shore
BY broad Potomac's shore--again, old tongue!
(Still uttering--still ejaculating--canst never cease this babble?)
Again, old heart so gay--again to you, your sense, the full flush
spring returning;
Again the freshness and the odors--again Virginia's summer sky,
pellucid blue and silver,
Again the forenoon purple of the hills,
Again the deathless grass, so noiseless, soft and green,
Again the blood-red roses blooming.
Perfume this book of mine, O blood-red roses!
Lave subtly with your waters every line, Potomac!
Give me of you, O spring, before I close, to put between its
pages! 10
O forenoon purple of the hills, before I close, of you!
O smiling earth--O summer sun, give me of you!
O deathless grass, of you!
poem by Walt Whitman
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Debris
HE is wisest who has the most caution,
He only wins who goes far enough.
Any thing is as good as established, when that is established that
will produce it and continue it.
poem by Walt Whitman
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To the real artist in humanity, what are called bad manners are often the most picturesque and significant of all.
quote by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Global Warning (Dedicated To Wangari Maathai)
I wish we understand the voices
of the birds as they give their
views on the dazzling look of the
earth from the sky maybe we know
how privileged we are to have
dominion over it.
If only we undersand the roars of
the Loins as they praise the splendid
look of the forest we will stop cuting
and plant more trees.
If only we could listen to our hearts as
it praise the seductive, moves of the
of the fishes we will show our waters
more respect..
poem by Enyinwa Okechukwu Enyinwa
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That Star
A Star
She stunts around like she’s all that
But I know it’s all an act
She whips her hair & shows her dazzling smile
But I know it’s fake
She says she’ll never shed a tear
But I know she cries every night
She is…that star, people will always say when she walks by them
But I know she’s not even close
Why do people call her that star you ask?
Isn’t it obvious…a star is bright, like her
All lies, she tells me
A star is dazzling, like her smile, to bad it’s a fake smile
And most of all a star is beautiful, just like her, to bad she doesn’t feel like it
She tells me, she’s tired of pretending to be that star, everyone says she is
But I know she’ll one day be that star she’s meant to be
She will be as bright as a star
She will have that dazzling smile that not even a star can provide
…most of all…
I know she will be & feel beautiful like a star
End
poem by Jennifer Zepeda
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A Child's Amaze
SILENT and amazed, even when a little boy,
I remember I heard the preacher every Sunday put God in his
statements,
As contending against some being or influence.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Oh, How Silent Is the Nature
Oh, how silent is the nature,
It only looks and only hears,
The people's spirit in a rapture
Clings to a freedom -- fast and fierce.
This planet will forget offences
Of him who trades, of him who kills,
And, as in reminiscences,
Druids will teach from greenish hills.
And, as in olden times, the poets
Will lead men's souls up to heights,
Like Angel leads the dazzling comets
To a point, that is not in sight.
poem by Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
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Oh, How Silent Is the Nature
Oh, how silent is the nature,
It only looks and only hears,
The people's spirit in a rapture
Clings to a freedom - fast and fierce.
This planet will forget offences
Of him who trades, of him who kills,
And, as in reminiscences,
Druids will teach from greenish hills.
And, as in olden times, the poets
Will lead men's souls up to heights,
Like Angel leads the dazzling comets
To a point, that is not in sight.
poem by Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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