A poem a day

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Beata Solitudo

WHAT land of Silence,
Where pale stars shine
On apple-blossoms
And dew-drenched vine,
Is yours and mine?

The silent valley
That we will find,
Where all the voices
Of humankind
Are left behind.

There all forgetting,
Forgotten quite,
We will repose us,
With our delight
Hid out of sight.

The world forsaken,
And out of mind
Honour and labour,
We shall not find
The stars unkind.

And men shall travail,
And laugh and weep;
But we have vistas
Of Gods asleep,
With dreams as deep.

A land of Silence,
Where pale stars shine
On apple-blossoms
And dew-drenched vine,
Be yours and mine!

by Ernest Dowson

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Lucifer in Starlight
----------------by George Meredith

On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose.
Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend
Above the rolling ball in cloud part screened,
Where sinners hugged their spectre of repose.
Poor prey to his hot fit of pride were those.
And now upon his western wing he leaned,
Now his huge bulk o'er Afric's sands careened,
Now the black planet shadowed Arctic snows.
Soaring through wider zones that pricked his scars
With memory of the old revolt from Awe,
He reached a middle height, and at the stars,
Which are the brain of heaven, he looked, and sank.
Around the ancient track marched, rank on rank,
The army of unalterable law.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Today a double presentation of poems by Henley. Two of my favorites.. -Tyr


The Rain and the Wind
-------------by William Ernest Henley

The rain and the wind, the wind and the rain --
They are with us like a disease:
They worry the heart, they work the brain,
As they shoulder and clutch at the shrieking pane,
And savage the helpless trees.

What does it profit a man to know
These tattered and tumbling skies
A million stately stars will show,
And the ruining grace of the after-glow
And the rush of the wild sunrise?

Ever the rain -- the rain and the wind!
Come, hunch with me over the fire,
Dream of the dreams that leered and grinned,
Ere the blood of the Year got chilled and thinned,
And the death came on desire!
----------------------------------------------------

Between the Dusk of a Summer Night
----by William Ernest Henley

Between the dusk of a summer night
And the dawn of a summer day,
We caught at a mood as it passed in flight,
And we bade it stoop and stay.
And what with the dawn of night began
With the dusk of day was done;
For that is the way of woman and man,
When a hazard has made them one.
Arc upon arc, from shade to shine,
The World went thundering free;
And what was his errand but hers and mine --
The lords of him, I and she?
O, it's die we must, but it's live we can,
And the marvel of earth and sun
Is all for the joy of woman and man
And the longing that makes them one.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

The River of Life

===================== by Thomas Campbell


The more we live, more brief appear
Our life's succeeding stages;
A day to childhood seems a year,
And years like passing ages.

The gladsome current of our youth,
Ere passion yet disorders,
Steals lingering like a river smooth
Along its grassy borders.

But as the careworn cheek grows wan,
And sorrow's shafts fly thicker,
Ye stars, that measure life to man,
Why seem your courses quicker?

When joys have lost their bloom and breath,
And life itself is vapid,
Why, as we reach the Falls of Death
Feel we its tide more rapid?

It may be strange—yet who would change
Time's course to slower speeding,
When one by one our friends have gone,
And left our bosoms bleeding?

Heaven gives our years of fading strength
Indemnifying fleetness;
And those of youth, a seeming length,
Proportion'd to their sweetness.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So much wisdom in this fine poem by Campbell.. Closing stanza says it all methinks. As I am currently at the age of last standing , I see much more clearly now. -Tyr

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Night Journey
------------------------by Theodore Roethke

Now as the train bears west,
Its rhythm rocks the earth,
And from my Pullman berth
I stare into the night
While others take their rest.
Bridges of iron lace,
A suddenness of trees,
A lap of mountain mist
All cross my line of sight,
Then a bleak wasted place,
And a lake below my knees.
Full on my neck I feel
The straining at a curve;
My muscles move with steel,
I wake in every nerve.
I watch a beacon swing
From dark to blazing bright;
We thunder through ravines
And gullies washed with light.
Beyond the mountain pass
Mist deepens on the pane;
We rush into a rain
That rattles double glass.
Wheels shake the roadbed stone,
The pistons jerk and shove,
I stay up half the night
To see the land I love.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

BEAUTIFUL WORLD

by: John Stuart Blackie (1809-1895)


Though bigots condemn thee,
My tongue finds no words
For the graces that gem thee!
Beaming with sunny light,
Bountiful ever,
Streaming with gay delight,
Full as a river!
Bright world! brave world!
Let cavillers blame thee!
I bless thee, and bend
To the God who did frame thee!

Beautiful world!
Bursting around me,
Manifold, million-hued
Wonders confound me!
From earth, sea, and starry sky,
Meadow and mountain,
Eagerly gushes
Life's magical fountain.
Bright world! brave world!
Though witlings may blame thee,
Wonderful excellence
Only could frame thee!

The bird in the greenwood
His sweet hymn is trolling,
The fish in blue ocean
Is spouting and rolling!
Light things on airy wing
Wild dances weaving,
Clods with new life in spring
Swelling and heaving!
Thou quick-teeming world,
Though scoffers may blame thee,
I wonder, and worship
The God who could frame thee!
Beautiful world!

What poesy measures
Thy strong-flooding passions,
Thy light-trooping pleasures?
Mustering, marshalling,
Striving and straining,
Conquering, triumphing,
Ruling and reigning!
Thou bright-armied world!
So strong, who can tame thee?
Wonderful power of God
Only could frame thee!

Beautiful world!
While godlike I deem thee,
No cold wit shall move me
With bile to blaspheme thee!
I have lived in thy light,
And, when Fate ends my story,
May I leave on death's cloud
The bright trail of life's glory!
Wondrous old world!
No ages shall shame thee!
Ever bright with new light
From the God who did frame thee!

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Dirge in Woods

----------------------------by George Meredith


A wind sways the pines,
And below
Not a breath of wild air;
Still as the mosses that glow
On the flooring and over the lines
Of the roots here and there.
The pine-tree drops its dead;
They are quiet, as under the sea.
Overhead, overhead
Rushes life in a race,
As the clouds the clouds chase;
And we go,
And we drop like the fruits of the tree,
Even we,
Even so.

[LongTermGuy]

And in the east,
the birds called
louder to the Czar,
fiercely burdened after the long flight.
The whispers in the springtime,
brought warm incense sensations
sitting outside, frozen beneath the feet of winter,
destroying the wildlife, flowers fallen.
All was alive by day,
But shattered in the evening.
Awkward interactions, the
fishing man, the working blue collars
the lucky ones whose death was no longer myth...............


Sebastian JohnstonLindsay

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Sonnet- Silence

------------------------ by Edgar Allan Poe


There are some qualities- some incorporate things,
That have a double life, which thus is made
A type of that twin entity which springs
From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade.
There is a two-fold Silence- sea and shore-
Body and soul. One dwells in lonely places,
Newly with grass o'ergrown; some solemn graces,
Some human memories and tearful lore,
Render him terrorless: his name's "No More."
He is the corporate Silence: dread him not!
No power hath he of evil in himself;
But should some urgent fate (untimely lot!)
Bring thee to meet his shadow (nameless elf,
That haunteth the lone regions where hath trod
No foot of man,) commend thyself to God!

[LongTermGuy]

Sonnet- Silence

------------------------ by Edgar Allan Poe


There are some qualities- some incorporate things,
That have a double life, which thus is made
A type of that twin entity which springs
From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade.
There is a two-fold Silence- sea and shore-
Body and soul. One dwells in lonely places,
Newly with grass o'ergrown; some solemn graces,
Some human memories and tearful lore,
Render him terrorless: his name's "No More."
He is the corporate Silence: dread him not!
No power hath he of evil in himself;
But should some urgent fate (untimely lot!)
Bring thee to meet his shadow (nameless elf,
That haunteth the lone regions where hath trod
No foot of man,) commend thyself to God!

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Across the Sea Along the Shore
-------------------------------- by Arthur Hugh Clough

Across the sea, along the shore,
In numbers more and ever more,
From lonely hut and busy town,
The valley through, the mountain down,
What was it ye went out to see,
Ye silly folk Galilee?
The reed that in the wind doth shake?
The weed that washes in the lake?
The reeds that waver, the weeds that float?
A young man preaching in a boat.
What was it ye went out to hear
By sea and land from far and near?
A teacher? Rather seek the feet
Of those who sit in Moses' seat.
Go humbly seek, and bow to them,
Far off in great Jerusalem.
From them that in her courts ye saw,
Her perfect doctors of the law,
What is it came ye here to note?
A young man preaching in a boat.

A prophet! Boys and women weak!
Declare, or cease to rave;
Whence is it he hath learned to speak?
Say, who his doctrine gave?
A prophet? Prophet wherefore he
Of all in Israel tribes?
He teacheth with authority,
And not as do the Scribes.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

The Vine & Oak, A Fable
-----------------------------by Major Henry Livingston, Jr.




A vine from noblest lineage sprung
And with the choicest clusters hung,
In purple rob'd, reclining lay,
And catch'd the noontide's fervid ray;
The num'rous plants that deck the field
Did all the palm of beauty yield;
Pronounc'd her fairest of their train
And hail'd her empress of the plain.
A neighb'ring oak whose spiry height
In low-hung clouds was hid from sight,
Who dar'd a thousand howling storms;
Conscious of worth, sublimely stood,
The pride and glory of the wood.

He saw her all defenseless lay
To each invading beast a prey,
And wish'd to clasp her in his arms
And bear her far away from harms.
'Twas love -- 'twas tenderness -- 'twas all
That men the tender passion call.

He urg'd his suit but urg'd in vain,
The vine regardless of his pain
Still flirted with each flippant green
With seeing pleas'd, & being seen;
And as the syren Flattery sang
Would o'er the strains ecstatic hang;
Enjoy'd the minutes as they rose
Nor fears her bosom discompose.

But now the boding clouds arise
And scowling darkness veils the skies;
Harsh thunders roar -- red lightnings gleam,
And rushing torrents close the scene.

The fawning, adulating crowd
Who late in thronged xx bow'd
Now left their goddess of a day
To the O'erwhelming flood a prey,
which swell'd a deluge poured around
& tore her helpless from the ground;
Her rifled foliage floated wide
And ruby nectar ting'd the tide.

With eager eyes and heart dismayed
She look'd but look'd in vain for aid.
"And are my lovers fled," she cry'd,
"Who at my feet this morning sigh'd,
"And swore my reign would never end
"While youth and beauty had a friend?
"I am unhappy who believ'd!
"And they detested who deceived!
"Curse on that whim call'd maiden pride
"Which made me shun the name of bride
"When yonder oak confessed his flame
"And woo'd me in fair honor's name.
"But now repentance comes too late
"And all forlorn, I meet my fate."

The oak who safely wav'd above
Look'd down once more with eyes of love
(Love higher wrought with pity join'd
True mark of an exalted mind,)
Declared her coldness could suspend
But not his gen'rous passion end.
Beg'd to renew his am'rous plea,
As warm for union now as he,
To his embraces quick she flew
And felt & gave sensations new.

Enrich'd & graced by the sweet prise
He lifts her tendrils to the skies;
Whilst she, protected and carest,
Sinks in his arms completely blest.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Major Henry Livingston Jr (1748 - 1828) was born into a prominent family in Poughkeepsie, New York. His father was from Scotland and his mother was Dutch. He married in 1774 to Sarah (or Sally) Wells. A year later, right after his first child (Catherine) was born, he joined the American Revolution. Henry suffered greatly from the death of his wife in 1783. This tradgedy left him alone to raise their four children. On the ten year anniversary of his wife's death however, he remarried. He and his second wife (Jane Patterson) had four children together. Then in 1828, at the age of eighty, he died. Some of his decendants have stated that he is the true author of A Visit From St. Nicholas.

Unlike the man who has been recognized by most people as the true author of A Visit From St. Nicholas, Clement Clarke Moore, Henry Livingston was not well known. Most of his peotry was written for himself and his family and therefore was not published. His published works were clever, amusing, funny and good natured. He was an imaginative and creative person who it is hard not to like. His personality is a big part of Donald Foster's argument in Author Unknown in which he states his opinion that Henry Livingston is the true author.

Although Henry Livingston never claimed authorship of A Visit From St. Nicholas many of his decendants, such as his great great great great great grand daughter Mary Van Deusen, are determined to prove that he wrote it. Some of his other works have also been promoted by those who want to prove his authorship.


Biography by: This article is licensed under the GNU Free Documentation License and uses material adapted in whole or in part from the Wikipedia article on Major Henry Livingston Jr.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

The Country of the Blind

--------------------------------by C. S. Lewis


Hard light bathed them-a whole nation of eyeless men,
Dark bipeds not aware how they were maimed. A long
Process, clearly, a slow curse,
Drained through centuries, left them thus.

At some transitional stage, then, a luckless few,
No doubt, must have had eyes after the up-to-date,
Normal type had achieved snug
Darkness, safe from the guns of heavn;

Whose blind mouths would abuse words that belonged to their
Great-grandsires, unabashed, talking of light in some
Eunuch'd, etiolated,
Fungoid sense, as a symbol of

Abstract thoughts. If a man, one that had eyes, a poor
Misfit, spoke of the grey dawn or the stars or green-
Sloped sea waves, or admired how
Warm tints change in a lady's cheek,

None complained he had used words from an alien tongue,
None question'd. It was worse. All would agree 'Of course,'
Came their answer. "We've all felt
Just like that." They were wrong. And he


Knew too much to be clear, could not explain. The words --
Sold, raped flung to the dogs -- now could avail no more;
Hence silence. But the mouldwarps,
With glib confidence, easily

Showed how tricks of the phrase, sheer metaphors could set
Fools concocting a myth, taking the worlds for things.
Do you think this a far-fetched
Picture? Go then about among

Men now famous; attempt speech on the truths that once,
Opaque, carved in divine forms, irremovable,
Dear but dear as a mountain-
Mass, stood plain to the inward eye.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
How did this author know what we would be encountering now?
Did he have such foresight or divining spirit or just know how history repeats itself because man's arrogance so often knows no bounds? Or perhaps a combination of both
Last two stanza's pure gold and entire poem is epic and brilliant writing!-Tyr

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

The Dark Forest
------------------------ by Edward Thomas


Dark is the forest and deep, and overhead
Hang stars like seeds of light
In vain, though not since they were sown was bred
Anything more bright.

And evermore mighty multitudes ride
About, nor enter in;
Of the other multitudes that dwell inside
Never yet was one seen.

The forest foxglove is purple, the marguerite
Outside is gold and white,
Nor can those that pluck either blossom greet
The others, day or night.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

A Seed
by William Allingham


See how a Seed, which Autumn flung down,
And through the Winter neglected lay,
Uncoils two little green leaves and two brown,
With tiny root taking hold on the clay
As, lifting and strengthening day by day,
It pushes red branchless, sprouts new leaves,
And cell after cell the Power in it weaves
Out of the storehouse of soil and clime,
To fashion a Tree in due course of time;
Tree with rough bark and boughs' expansion,
Where the Crow can build his mansion,
Or a Man, in some new May,
Lie under whispering leaves and say,
"Are the ills of one's life so very bad
When a Green Tree makes me deliciously glad?"
As I do now. But where shall I be
When this little Seed is a tall green Tree?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

William Allingham, 1824-1889
Nationality: English
Date of Birth: 19 March 1824
Place of Birth: Ballyshannon, County
Date of Death: 18 November 1889
Place of Death: Eldon House, Lyndhurst Road,


Identity:
William Allingham was an Irish poet and civil servant. His father was a shipping merchant. The eldest of five children, his mother died when he was aged nine. Allingham married the watercolourist Helen Paterson in 1874.

Life:
He began his career aged fourteen, working in a bank but quit in 1846 to join the Customs Office. Visiting London in 1847, he became acquainted with the poet Leigh Hunt and in 1849 with Coventry Patmore. In 1850 his first book of poems was dedicated to Leigh Hunt. From 1850-53 he became friends with Thomas Carlyle, Alfred Tennyson, Dante Gabriel Rossetti and the other members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. His chief correspondents throughout his life were Rossetti and Henry Sutton, a young poet journalist in Nottingham.

In 1855 Allingham's Day and Night Songs was published with nine illustrations by Rossetti, John Everett Millais and Arthur Hughes, cut by the Dalziel brothers. His poetry, which was influenced by the tradition of Border Ballads, was close to that of Rossetti and William Morris. In 1865 his Fifty Modern Poems was published, and in 1877 an anthology of his work, Songs, Ballads and Stories.

In 1870, through Carlyle's influence, Allingham became sub-editor of Fraser's Magazine, and then in 1874 he succeeded the historian J. A. Froude as editor, holding this post for five years. As well as JW, he was the friend of such prominent artists and writers as Edward Burne-Jones, Charles Dickens and the Brownings.

Bibliography:
Hill, George Birkbeck (ed.), Letters of Dante Gabriel Rossetti to William Allingham 1854-1870, London, 1897; Allingham, William, William Allingham: a Diary, H. Allingham & Radford, D., (eds.) London 1907; H. Allingham and E. Baumer Williams (eds.), Letters to William Allingham, London, 1911