When Ore My Temples Balmy Vapours Rise
When ore my temples balmy vapours rise
Whose soft suffusion dims the sinking eyes
Gay dreams in troops fantastically light
On silent plumes wave down through sable night
Nights sable curtains draw before my eye
gently clears a visionary Sky
the running darkness draws its dusky shade
from off the beautys of a flowry mead
More still more forsakes the lengthening plain
Mounts gray ends it in a sylvan scene.
Poizd & aloft I sail in glittring air
Joy to view my newborn earth so fair
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Related quotes
Summer nights delights.
The sable cloak of night is sown
With a beauty which is shown
By a myriad points of light.
Which show against the dark of night
A background certain to enhance
Selena mistress of romance
As she observes young lovers dreams
She blesses them with soft moon beams.
Although the moon is permanent
Young love is often transient
But for tonight the moon will do.
Her best to make your dreams come true.
The sable cloak of night conceals
What the morning sun reveals
Feelings engendered by the moon
Can fade away alas too soon.
Thursday,19 January 2012
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers/
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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An Hymn To The Evening
SOON as the sun forsook the eastern main
The pealing thunder shook the heav'nly plain;
Majestic grandeur! From the zephyr's wing,
Exhales the incense of the blooming spring.
Soft purl the streams, the birds renew their notes,
And through the air their mingled music floats.
Through all the heav'ns what beauteous dies are
spread!
But the west glories in the deepest red:
So may our breasts with ev'ry virtue glow,
The living temples of our God below!
Fill'd with the praise of him who gives the light,
And draws the sable curtains of the night,
Let placid slumbers sooth each weary mind,
At morn to wake more heav'nly, more refin'd;
So shall the labours of the day begin
More pure, more guarded from the snares of sin.
Night's leaden sceptre seals my drowsy eyes,
poem by Phillis Wheatley
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Sonnet LIV: Care-Charmer Sleep
Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night,
Brother to death, in silent darkness born,
Relieve my languish and restore the light,
With dark forgetting of my cares' return.
And let the day be time enough to mourn
The shipwrack of my ill-adventur'd youth;
Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn
Without the torment of the night's untruth.
Cease Dreams, th'imagery of our day desires,
To model forth the passions of the morrow;
Never let the rising Sun approve you liars,
To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow.
Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain,
And never wake to feel the day's disdain.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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Delia XLV: Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night
XLV
Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night,
Brother to Death, in silent darkness born:
Relieve my languish, and restore the light,
With dark forgetting of my cares, return;
And let the day be time enough to mourn
The shipwreck of my ill-adventur'd youth:
Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn,
Without the torment of the night's untruth.
Cease dreams, th' imagery of our day-desires,
To model forth the passions of the morrow;
Never let rising sun approve you liars,
To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow.
Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain;
And never wake to feel the day's disdain.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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Draw String
The curtains in my living room
lift and fall
gracefully
as I pull their strings each day;
marking the rise and fall of each
season
and each day in between-
punctuation
for the life between you and me.
Like my skirts
they lifted first
and fell
on our wedding bed
on our wedding night-
and now gracefully on special nights;
They rose to the realities
of married life-
fell during our dark times-
and ring during the good times
with loving making
and bedroom laughter.
I cannot
each time I draw
the strings
but marvel
at morning light;
folding away yet
another night
with you.
.
My curtains offer me regularity
which is comforting to me.
I dust them-
not often enough
worn with the years;
uplift them
for the view of the garden
and you coming home
over the back fence.
I draw them each time
anticipating
magically
in doing
so
you, too,
are drawn
home
to my bosom
each day.
Watch
as I draw
this string.
You'll see:
He'll be there
coming over
the back fence;
home to me.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Sonnet XXXIII: My Cares Draw
My cares draw on mine everlasting night;
In horror's sable clouds sets my life's sun;
My life's sweet sun, my dearest comfort's light,
Will rise no more to me whose day is done.
I go before unto the Myrtle shades,
To attend the presence of my world's Dear,
And there prepare her flowers that never fades,
And all things fit against her coming there.
If any ask me why so soon I came,
I'll hide her sin, and say it was my lot;
In life and death I'll tender her good name;
My life nor death shall never be her blot.
Although this world may seem her deed to blame,
Th'Elisean ghosts shall never know the same.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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Psalm 139
O Lord in me there lieth nought
But to thy search revealed lies;
For when I sit
Thou markest it:
Nor less thou notest when I rise:
Yea, closest closet of my thought
Hath open windows to thine eyes.
Thou walkest with me when I walk;
When to my bed for rest I go,
I find thee there,
And everywhere,
Not youngest thought in me doth grow,
No, not one word I cast to talk
But, yet unuttered, thou dost know.
If forth I march, thou goest before;
If back I turn, thou com'st behind;
So forth nor back
Thy guard I lack;
Nay, on me too thy hand I find.
Well I thy wisdom may adore,
But never reach with earthly mind.
To shun thy notice, leave thine eye,
O whither might I take my way?
To starry sphere?
Thy throne is there:
To dead men's undelightsome stay?
There is thy walk, and there to lie
Unknown, in vain should I assay.
O sun, whom light nor flight can match!
Suppose thy lightful flightful wings
Thou lend to me,
And I could flee
As far as thee the evening brings:
Even led to west he would me catch
Nor should I lurk with western things.
Do thou thy best, O secret night!
In sable veil to cover me:
Thy sable veil
Shall vainly fail:
With day unmasked my night shall be,
For night is day, and darkness light,
O Father of all lights, to thee.
poem by Philip Sidney
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The Little Flower Girl
Down at the church the flower girl sits. legs innocent, apart.
I make the picture puzzle fit to start your heart.
Painted sister stopped beside. a word upon her saintly lip.
Perhaps admonishing the child inside the open slip.
I dont know where she might go when she runs home at night.
Its for the best: I wouldnt rest when I turned out the light.
No little flower girl singing in my troubled dream----
Just an old mans model in a pose from a magazine.
I have touched that face a dozen times before. and I have let my pencil run.
Laid down washes on a foreign shore, under a hot and foreign sun.
My best sable brushes drift the soft inside of her arm.
Her chin I tilt, her breasts I lift. I mean no harm.
I close the door. she is no more until the next appointed hour.
Northeastern light push back the night: painted promises in store.
No little flower girl singing in my troubled dream----
Just an old mans model in a pose from a magazine.
Down at the church my flower girl sits. legs innocent, apart.
I make the picture puzzle fit to start your heart.
My golden sable brushes drift the soft inside of her arm.
Her chin I tilt, her breasts I lift. I mean no harm.
I mean no harm. I mean.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Black Birds
I
Once, only once, I saw it clear, --
That Eden every human heart has dreamed
A hundred times, but always far away!
Ah, well do I remember how it seemed,
Through the still atmosphere
Of that enchanted day,
To lie wide open to my weary feet:
A little land of love and joy and rest,
With meadows of soft green,
Rosy with cyclamen, and sweet
With delicate breath of violets unseen, --
And, tranquil 'mid the bloom
As if it waited for a coming guest,
A little house of peace and joy and love
Was nested like a snow-white dove
From the rough mountain where I stood,
Homesick for happiness,
Only a narrow valley and a darkling wood
To cross, and then the long distress
Of solitude would be forever past, --
I should be home at last.
But not too soon! oh, let me linger here
And feed my eyes, hungry with sorrow,
On all this loveliness, so near,
And mine to-morrow!
Then, from the wood, across the silvery blue,
A dark bird flew,
Silent, with sable wings.
Close in his wake another came, --
Fragments of midnight floating through
The sunset flame, --
Another and another, weaving rings
Of blackness on the primrose sky, --
Another, and another, look, a score,
A hundred, yes, a thousand rising heavily
From that accursed, dumb, and ancient wood, --
They boiled into the lucid air
Like smoke from some deep caldron of despair!
And more, and more, and ever more,
The numberless, ill-omened brood,
Flapping their ragged plumes,
Possessed the landscape and the evening light
With menaces and glooms.
Oh, dark, dark, dark they hovered o'er the place
Where once I saw the little house so white
Amid the flowers, covering every trace
Of beauty from my troubled sight, --
And suddenly it was night!
II
At break of day I crossed the wooded vale;
And while the morning made
A trembling light among the tree-tops pale,
I saw the sable birds on every limb,
Clinging together closely in the shade,
And croaking placidly their surly hymn.
But, oh, the little land of peace and love
That those night-loving wings had poised above, --
Where was it gone?
Lost, lost forevermore!
Only a cottage, dull and gray,
In the cold light of dawn,
With iron bars across the door:
Only a garden where the withering heads
Of flowers, presaging decay,
Hung over barren beds:
Only a desolate field that lay
Untilled beneath the desolate day, --
Where Eden seemed to bloom I found but these!
So, wondering, I passed along my way,
With anger in my heart, too deep for words,
Against that grove of evil-sheltering trees,
And the black magic of the croaking birds.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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Good Morning
waking up late
light pushes itself inside the slits of the windows
the sky blue curtains filtering
the hues of
little rainbows
he rubs his eyes
discovering he was all alone
the whole night
there were dreams he could not remember anymore
he sets the curtains aside
opens the window
looks at the garden below
sees the birds feeding on some grains spread to the ground
he hears a song from his heart
a nice one now
and to please what has been disturbing him
a void, a thorny feeling, last night, or was it the other night
he compliments himself with
good morning world
thanks, i am still alive.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How white and level the plain
How white and level the plain
That stretches to the sea-ridge
The sea-ridge beyond which
The sea roars in and out
And laps against the giant rocks
This night.
I startle - the moon’s light
Which I thought feeble --
Clearly the plain before me lights
And the dark bosom of the sea
Entering and going silver shines
When the moon-rays with the dark waves commix
This night.
No sound save for my steps and the sea’s waves
And here and there a few cool gusts of wind.
No-body save for me - the rest so silent is:
The temples high above in black silhouette
Rise like pointed turrets to the sky
In silent draped and in dress funereal
I walk, I think, I look at the seas,
Tears come to my eyes and fall and fall
This night.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Night, Nights Sleepless
Night, nights sleepless eyes wide
sleep comes as disguise
Thou you asked love to
lend some happiness
fate has gifted you
sadness for life
Night, nights sleepless eyes wide
sleep comes as disguise
all boats are gone
and flooded away
your loved ones pierced
you with dagger of lies
Night, nights sleepless eyes wide
sleep comes as disguise
now why are you smiling
whilst bleeding tears
your sun is set
before even rise
Night, nights sleepless eyes wide
sleep comes as disguise
there was just a hope
on a peck of straw
alas! it is also burnt
now ashes doth lies
Night, nights sleepless eyes wide
sleep comes as disguise
poem by Asif Baloch
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Seen Through My Eyes 1371 Sandrine Bonnant after William Shakespeare Sonnet CIV
Seen through my eyes she never shall grow old,
As sweet she blossoms, mete she'll ever be,
Now fair among the fair, - their beauty, cold,
Defers to hers in depth and quality.
Rise and fall of seasons have I seen,
It's evident, though her Time's been defeated,
Nor shall decay add grey to sable sheen,
Ever round her Muses nine are seated.
But vain watch hands spin round each soundless hour.
On one no second thoughts shall spin awry,
No change - enchanted magic - still she'll flower!
Night turns to day, light's interplays defy
All aging grey, one tender beauty may
Trap fourth dimension interference play.
(13 November 2004)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Lingers
The rain is gone,
It's pitter patter silent,
It's accompaniment of thunder quiet,
It's ensemble of lightning dark,
but the smell still lingers.
The soft breeze carries the scent,
A cool night with damp grass,
The animals hide in dry brush,
The people tucked away at home,
The air thick with the weight of silence,
The thunder once so loud and startling,
Now distant and still moving further,
The lightening once so bright and threatening,
Now a distant glow that illuminates the horizon,
The storm has passed.
And like the rain,
you are gone for now,
Too far from my grasp,
For now my arms are empty,
But your smell still lingers.
The breeze from the open window carries your scent,
A cool night with warm sheets,
The restless hearts calmed,
The racing thoughts slowed,
The air thick with new memories and feelings.
The sounds once so crisp and real,
Now the silent rise and fall of chests,
The light in our eyes once so bright and alluring,
Now hidden behind closed lids,
The storm has passed.
The rain now as calm as our dreams,
And the storm as silent as our breathing,
Until once again the lightning will strike,
And our eyes light up again,
But for now, the smell still lingers.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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I Tried To Open The Wide Book Of Night
I tried to open wide the book of night
To look into its eyes - like a lover
That pretended of his love confession as of right
And so to Hastings Gardens went I in the night.
Wide, wide before the long night stood
No corner stopped my glance no space
Its boundary showed and manifested
To my glance long tall continous lay the night
In its mischievous slumbering
Wherein it dreamt dreams I know not
Nor thereof heard the silent trees bespeak.
How many nights before me came
How many, many nights
And they were certes here like this night
As I look from the bastions to the sea
And fancy its silver bosom dance and gleam
In the moon’s amorous light to-night:
So gleamed the light on the sea-waves
When the French besieged and held
Our noble city: how many a lover
Stood looking on the sea and at his love
As mid-night in his satined robes tiptoed:
Rippling stood the waves and waters wild
And fancy its silver bosom dance and gleam
In the moon’s amorous light:
For years and years the welcome Briton stood
Perhaps here where stay I and his foot
Could be heard pace all sentinel
Into the dark glooms of silent night
From casements near opening on the seas
And houses nearby in dreaming bent
Through the long night, the long and weary night
That was of many nights that were
And will be of many nights that will
And when I stay not on the bastions and
Feel not the sea-breeze my face cool
Night after night will come and children small
Few years born will come and go:
And after children small will come again
Night after night will come and speak
Unto the rocks that front the sea
And playing with lapping sea-waves all the night
Unheard, unseen, unnoticed in the times
And in the flight of years and centuries full lost
And when night comes and still the sea
Will shine – its silver bosom dance and gleam
In the moon’s amorous light.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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On The Birth-Day Of Queen Katherine
While yet it was the Empire of the Night,
And Stars still check'r'd Darkness with their Light,
From Temples round the cheerful Bells did ring,
But with the Peales a churlish Storm did sing.
I slumbr'd; and the Heavens like things did show,
Like things which I had seen and heard below.
Playing on Harps Angels did singing fly,
But through a cloudy and a troubl'd Sky,
Some fixt a Throne, and Royal Robes display'd,
And then a Massie Cross upon it laid.
I wept: and earnestly implor'd to know,
Why Royal Ensigns were disposed so.
An Angel said, The Emblem thou hast seen,
Denotes the Birth-Day of a Saint and Queen.
Ah, Glorious Minister, I then reply'd,
Goodness and Bliss together do reside
In Heaven and thee, why then on Earth below
These two combin'd so rarely do we know?
He said, Heaven so decrees: and such a Sable Morne
Was that, in which the Son of God was borne.
Then Mortal wipe thine Eyes, and cease to rave,
God darkn'd Heaven, when He the World did save.
poem by Anne Killigrew
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I remember you only you
When the day light kiss the moon and left in silent
I remember you
When the stars draw loves word in the sky
I remember you
When the drowsiness play with my eyes
I remember you
When the dreams flow in me
I remember you
When the words birth a poem
I remember you
When the sun force the darkness of night to leave
I remember you only you
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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Sonnet XXX: O'er the Tall Cliff
O'er the tall cliff that bounds the billowy main
Shad'wing the surge that sweeps the lonely strand,
While the thin vapours break along the sand,
Day's harbinger unfolds the liquid plain.
The rude Sea murmurs, mournful as the strain
That love-lorn minstrels strike with trembling hand,
While from their green beds rise the Syren band
With tongues aerial to repeat my pain!
The vessel rocks beside the pebbly shore,
The foamy curls its gaudy trappings lave;
Oh! Bark propitious! bear me gently o'er,
Breathe soft, ye winds; rise slow, O! swelling wave!
Lesbos; these eyes shall meet thy sands no more:
I fly, to seek my Lover, or my Grave!
poem by Mary Darby Robinson
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I See By Night
but the day provides its light
but my eyes are not dim
but the day-break is every man's pleasure
but the blue sky is to my eyes a cloud
and the sharpest moment of my eyes is the night
for I only see by night
through the trials an travails
in this game of fall and rise life offers
I see a new me at each escape route
something sprout in me as the tree sprouts again
though I never desire the night's walk
but I can only see by night
how I wish there were no night
that I may not hit my leg at stones
or that it's always night
so that a stronger me will soon rise
but the night and day exchange baton
and this makes for the perfect man I am
for now I see by night and day
poem by Agbola Oluseyi
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Arctic Song
The days get older
The shadows colder
The seasons pause in vain
And in the north
We sit until
The sun won't rise again
The sun won't rise again, my love
The sun won't rise again
For thirty days and thirty nights
And fallow fall the sane
I spoke it once and will refrain
The sun won't rise again
We feel the frost
We feel the bite
These nights of endless pain
And once upon a time
We know
The sun will rise again
The sun won't rise again, my love
The sun won't rise again
For thirty days and thirty nights
We'll sufer through this bane
I spoke it twice, and will refrain
The sun won't rise again
And on that morn
Oh, breaking dawn
We'll let ourselves retain
Those thoughts of night
The quietude
Till the sun won't rise again
poem by Liz Annson
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