Poem 69 - 100 days of poetry
There be none of Beauty's daughters
With a magic like thee;
And like music on the waters
Is thy sweet voice to me: Continue reading "Stanzas for Music – Poem by Lord Byron"
In the Deep Nights – Poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
Poem 68 - 100 days of poetry
In the deep nights I dig for you, O Treasure!
To seek you over the wide world I roam,
For all abundance is but meager measure
Of your bright beauty which is yet to come. Continue reading "In the Deep Nights – Poem by Rainer Maria Rilke"
A Love Song — Poem by D. H. Lawrence
Poem 67 - 100 days of poetry
Reject me not if I should say to you
I do forget the sounding of your voice,
I do forget your eyes that searching through
The mists perceive our marriage, and rejoice. Continue reading "A Love Song — Poem by D. H. Lawrence"
The Fair Singer — Poem by Andrew Marvell (1621-1678)
Poem 66 - 100 days of poetry
To make a final conquest of all me,
Love did compose so sweet an enemy,
In whom both beauties to my death agree,
Joining themselves in fatal harmony;
That while she with her eyes my heart does bind,
She with her voice might captivate my mind. Continue reading "The Fair Singer — Poem by Andrew Marvell (1621-1678)"
The Night is Darkening Round Me – Emily Brontë
Poem 65 - 100 days of poetry
The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me,
And I cannot, cannot go. Continue reading "The Night is Darkening Round Me – Emily Brontë"
Evening Solace — Poem by Charlotte Brontë
Poem 63 - 100 days of poetry
The human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence sealed;
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.
And days may pass in gay confusion,
And nights in rosy riot fly,
While, lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion,
The memory of the Past may die. Continue reading "Evening Solace — Poem by Charlotte Brontë"
The Pied Piper of Hamelin by Robert Browning
Poem 62 - 100 days of poetry
https://soundcloud.com/rob-goll/the-pied-piper-of-hamelin-poem-by-robert-browning
I
Hamelin Town’s in Brunswick,
By famous Hanover city;
The river Weser, deep and wide,
Washes its wall on the southern side; Continue reading "The Pied Piper of Hamelin by Robert Browning"
To the Evening Star – William Blake
Poem 61 - 100 days of poetry
Thou fair-hair'd angel of the evening,
Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light
Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
Smile on our loves, and while thou drawest the
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
And then the lion glares through the dun forest:
The fleeces of our flocks are cover'd with
Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence!
He Remembers Forgotten Beauty – Poem by W. B. Yeats
Poem 60 - 100 days of poetry
When my arms wrap you round I press
My heart upon the loveliness
That has long faded from the world; Continue reading "He Remembers Forgotten Beauty – Poem by W. B. Yeats"
More Strong Than Time – Victor Hugo
Poem 58 - 100 days of poetry
Since I have set my lips to your full cup, my sweet,
Since I my pallid face between your hands have laid,
Since I have known your soul, and all the bloom of it,
And all the perfume rare, now buried in the shade;
Since it was given to me to hear on happy while,
The words wherein your heart spoke all its mysteries,
Since I have seen you weep, and since I have seen you smile,
Your lips upon my lips, and your eyes upon my eyes;
Since I have known above my forehead glance and gleam,
A ray, a single ray, of your star, veiled always,
Since I have felt the fall, upon my lifetime's stream,
Of one rose petal plucked from the roses of your days;
I now am bold to say to the swift changing hours,
Pass, pass upon your way, for I grow never old,
Fleet to the dark abysm with all your fading flowers,
One rose that none may pluck, within my heart I hold.
Your flying wings may smite, but they can never spill
The cup fulfilled of love, from which my lips are wet;
My heart has far more fire than you can frost to chill,
My soul more love than you can make my soul forget.
Translation by Andrew Lang (1844-1912)