The first chapter of my audio recording of Bram Stoker's Dracula.
Poem 100 — 100 days of poetry
Give me the chance, and I will make
Thy thoughts of me, like worms this day,
Take wings and change to butterflies
That in the golden light shall play;
Thy cold, clear heart—the quiet pool
That never heard Love's nightingale—
Shall hear his music night and day,
And in no seasons shall it fail. Continue reading "Love’s Inspiration — William H. Davies (Poem)"
Poem 99 - 100 days of poetry
I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind. Continue reading "Lines Written in Early Spring — William Wordsworth (Poem)"
The shadowy Daughter of Urthona stood before red Orc,
When fourteen suns had faintly journey’d o’er his dark abode:
His food she brought in iron baskets, his drink in cups of iron.
Crown’d with a helmet and dark hair the nameless Female stood;
A quiver with its burning stores, a bow like that of night,
When pestilence is shot from heaven—no other arms she need!
Invulnerable tho’ naked, save where clouds roll round her loins
Their awful folds in the dark air: silent she stood as night;
For never from her iron tongue could voice or sound arise,
But dumb till that dread day when Orc assay’d his fierce embrace. Continue reading "America: A Prophecy – Poem by William Blake"
Poem 97 - 100 days of poetry
See the stars, love,
In the water much clearer and brighter
Than those above us, and whiter,
Like nenuphars. Continue reading "In a Boat – D.H. Lawrence (Poem)"
Poem 96 - 100 days of poetry
Now hollow fires burn out to black,
And lights are guttering low:
Square your shoulders, lift your pack,
And leave your friends and go.
Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread,
Look not left nor right:
In all the endless road you tread
There's nothing but the night.
A Shropshire Lad - Poem LX
Poem 95 - 100 days of poetry
Believe me not, dear, when in hours of anguish
I say my love for thee exists no more.
At ebb of tide, think not the sea is faithless;
It will return with love unto the shore.
E'en now I pine for thee with old-time passion,
And place my freedom in thy hands once more.
Already, with loud noise, the waves are hasting
Back from afar to the beloved shore.
Poem 93 - 100 days of poetry
The island dreams under the dawn
And great boughs drop tranquillity;
The peahens dance on a smooth lawn,
A parrot sways upon a tree,
Raging at his own image in the enamelled sea. Continue reading "The Indian to His Love — William Butler Yeats (Poem)"
Poem 92 - 100 days of poetry
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields. Continue reading "The Passionate Shepherd to his Love by Christopher Marlowe (Poem)"