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Thread: A poem a day

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    [QUOTE]
    Andrey Andreyevich Voznesensky () (b. May 12, 1933, Moscow) is a Russian poet and writer who has been referred to by Robert Lowell as "one of the greatest living poets in any language." He lives and works in Moscow.

    Early in his life, Andrey was fascinated with painting and architecture, in 1957 graduating from the Moscow Architectural Institute. His enthusiasm for poetry, though, proved to be stronger. While still a teenager, he sent his poems to Boris Pasternak; the friendship between the two had a strong influence on the young poet.

    His first poems were published in 1958 and immediately reflected his unique style. His lyrics are characterized by his tendency "to measure" the contemporary person by modern categories and images, by the eccentricity of metaphors, by the complex rhythmical system and audio effects. Vladimir Mayakovsky and Pablo Neruda have been cited among the poets who influenced him most.

    In 1960s, during the so-called Thaw, Voznesensky frequently traveled abroad: to the U.S., France, Germany, Italy and other countries. Popularity of Voznesensky, Yevgeny Yevtushenko and Bella Akhmadulina were marked by performances in front of the adoring thousands at the stadiums, in the concert halls and universities. One collection of his poems, "Antimiry" ("Anti-worlds") served as the basis for a famous performance at the Taganka Theater in 1965.

    Voznesensky's friendship with many contemporary writers, artists and other intellectuals is reflected in his novels and articles. He is known to wider audiences for the superhit Million of Scarlet Roses that he penned for Alla Pugacheva in 1984 and for the hugely successful rock opera Juno and Avos (1979), based on the life and death of Nikolay Rezanov.

    In 1978 Voznesensky was awarded the USSR State Prize. He is an honorable member of ten academies, including Russian academy of learning (1993), the American Academy of Arts and Letters, Parisian AcadГ©mie Goncourt and others.

    Source: ]




    THE PARABOLIC BALLAD
    by Andrei Voznesensky

    My life, like a rocket, makes a parabola
    flying in darkness, -- no rainbow for traveler.

    There once lived an artist, red-haired Gauguin,
    he was a bohemian, a former tradesman.
    To get to the Louvre
    from the lanes of Montmartre
    he circled around
    as far as Sumatra!

    He had to abandon the madness of money,
    the filth of the scholars, the snarl of his honey.
    The man overcame the terrestrial gravity,
    The priests, drinking beer, would laugh at his "vanity":
    "A straight line is short, but it is much too simple,
    He'd better depict beds of roses for people."

    And yet, like a rocket, he flew off with ease
    through winds penetrating his coat and his ears.
    He didn't fetch up to the Louvre through the door
    but, like a parabola,
    pierced the floor!

    Each gets to the truth with his own parameter
    a worm finds a crack, man makes a parabola.

    There once lived a girl in the neighboring house.
    We studied together, through books we would browse.
    Why did I leave,
    moved by devilish powers
    amidst the equivocal
    Georgian stars!

    I'm sorry for making that silly parabola,
    The shivering shoulders in darkness, why trouble her?...
    Your rings in the dark Universe were dramatic,
    and like an antenna, straight and elastic.

    Meanwhile I'm flying
    to land here because
    I hear your earthly and shivering calls.

    It doesn't come easy with a parabola!..
    For wiping prediction, tradition, preamble off
    Art, History, Love and юesthetics
    Prefer
    to take parabolical paths, as it were!

    He leaves for Siberia now, on a visit.

    .....................................
    It isn't so long as parabola, is it?


    © Copyright Alec Vagapov's translation
    -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    This cat is good, claws like a tiger, teeth like a croc and a brain like an Einstein.....

    May later present more of his poems!! Tyr
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    William Ernest Henley (August 23, 1849 - July 11, 1903) was a British poet, critic and editor.
    Henley was born in Gloucester and educated at the Crypt Grammar School. The school was a poor relation of the Cathedral School, and Henley indicated its shortcomings in his article (Pall Mall Magazine, Nov. 1900) on T. E. Brown the poet, who was headmaster there for a brief period. Brown's appointment was a stroke of luck for Henley, for whom it represented a first acquaintance with a man of genius. "He was singularly kind to me at a moment when I needed kindness even more than I needed encouragement." Brown did him the essential service of lending him books. Henley was no classical scholar, but his knowledge and love of literature were vital.
    After suffering tuberculosis as a boy, he found himself, in 1874, aged twenty-five, an inmate of the hospital at Edinburgh. From there he sent to the Cornhill Magazine where he wrote poems in irregular rhythms, describing with poignant force his experiences in hospital. Leslie Stephen, then editor, visited his contributor in hospital and took Robert Louis Stevenson, another recruit of the Cornhill, with him. The meeting between Stevenson and Henley, and the friendship of which it was the beginning, form one of the best-known episodes in English literature (see Stevenson's letter to Mrs Sitwell, Jan. 1875, and Henley's poems "An Apparition" and "Envoy to Charles Baxter").

    In 1877 Henley went to London and began his editorial career by editing London, a journal written for the sake of its contributors rather than the public. Among other distinctions it first gave to the world The New Arabian Nights of Stevenson. Henley himself contributed a series of verses chiefly in old French forms. He had been writing poetry since 1872, but (so he told the world in his “ advertisement” to his collected Poems, 1898) he “found himself about 1877 so utterly unmarketable that he had to own himself beaten in art and to addict himself to journalism for the next ten years.” When London folded, he edited the Magazine of Art from 1882 to 1886. At the end of that period he came into the public eye as a poet. In 1887 Gleeson White made for the popular series of Canterbury Poets (edited by William Sharp) a selection of poems in old French forms. In his selection Gleeson White included many pieces from London, and only after completing the selection did he discover that the verses were all by Henley. In the following year, HB Donkin in his volume Voluntaries, written for an East End hospital, included Henley's unrhymed rhythms quintessentializing the poet's memories of the old Edinburgh Infirmary. Alfred Nutt read these, and asked for more; and in 1888 his firm published A Book of Verse.
    Henley was by this time well known within a restricted literary circle, and the publication of this volume determined his fame as a poet, which rapidly outgrew these limits, two new editions of the volume being printed within three years. In this same year (1888) Fitzroy Bell started the Scots Observer in Edinburgh, with Henley as literary editor, and early in 1889 Bell left the conduct of the paper to him. It was a weekly review on the lines of the old Saturday Review, but inspired in every paragraph by the vigorous and combative personality of the editor. It was transferred to London as the National Observer, and remained under Henley's editorship until 1893. Though, as Henley confessed, the paper had almost as many writers as readers, and its fame was mainly confined to the literary class, it was a lively and influential feature of the literary life of its time. Henley had the editor's great gift of discerning promise, and the "Men of the Scots Observer," as Henley affectionately and characteristically called his band of contributors, in most instances justified his insight. The paper found utterance for the growing imperialism of its day, and among other services to literature gave to the world Rudyard Kipling's Barrack-Room Ballads.
    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    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
    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    A poem on divine revelation
    by Hugh Henry Brackenridge
    This is a day of happiness, sweet peace,
    And heavenly sunshine; upon which conven'd
    In full assembly fair, once more we view,
    And hail with voice expressive of the heart,
    Patrons and sons of this illustrious hall.
    This hall more worthy of its rising fame
    Than hall on mountain or romantic hill,
    Where Druid bards sang to the hero's praise,
    While round their woods and barren heaths was heard
    The shrill calm echo of th' enchanting shell.
    Than all those halls and lordly palaces
    Where in the days of chivalry, each knight,
    And baron brave in military pride
    Shone in the brass and burning steel of war;
    For in this hall more worthy of a strain
    No envious sound forbidding peace is heard,
    Fierce song of battle kindling martial rage
    And desp'rate purpose in heroic minds:
    But sacred truth fair science and each grace
    Of virtue born; health, elegance and ease
    And temp'rate mirth in social intercourse
    Convey rich pleasure to the mind; and oft
    The sacred muse in heaven-breathing song
    Doth wrap the soul in extasy divine,
    Inspiring joy and sentiment which not
    The tale of war or song of Druids gave.
    The song of Druids or the tale of war
    With martial vigour every breast inspir'd,
    With valour fierce and love of deathless fame;
    But here a rich and splendid throng conven'd
    From many a distant city and fair town,
    Or rural seat by shore or mountain-stream,
    Breathe joy and blessing to the human race,
    Give countenance to arts themselves have known,
    Inspire the love of heights themselves have reach'd,
    Of noble science to enlarge the mind,
    Of truth and virtue to adorn the soul,
    And make the human nature grow divine.


    Oh could the muse on this auspicious day
    Begin a song of more majestic sound,
    Or touch the lyre on some sublimer key,
    Meet entertainment for the noble mind.
    How shall the muse from this poetic bow'r
    So long remov'd, and from this happy hill,
    Where ev'ry grace and ev'ry virtue dwells,
    And where the springs of knowledge and of thought
    In riv'lets clear and gushing streams flow down
    Attempt a strain? How sing in rapture high
    Or touch in vari'd melody the lyre
    The lyre so long neglected and each strain
    Unmeditated, and long since forgot?
    But yet constrain'd on this occasion sweet
    To this fam'd hall and this assembly fair
    With comely presence honouring the day,
    She fain would pay a tributary strain.
    A purer strain though not of equal praise
    To that which Fingal heard when Ossian sung
    With voice high rais'd in Selma hall of shells;
    Or that which Pindar on th' Elean plain,
    Sang with immortal skill and voice divine,
    When native Thebes and ev'ry Grecian state
    Pour'd forth her sons in rapid chariot race,
    To shun the goal and reach the glorious palm.
    He sang the pride of some ambitious chief,
    For olive crowns and wreaths of glory won;
    I sing the rise of that all glorious light,
    Whose sacred dawn the aged fathers saw
    By faith's clear eye, through many a cloud obscure
    And heavy mist between: they saw it beam
    From Judah's royal tribe, they saw it shine
    O'er Judah's happy land, and bade the hills,
    The rocky hills and barren vallies smile,
    The desert blossom and the wilds rejoice.


    This is that light and revelation pure,
    Which Jacob saw and in prophetic view,
    Did hail its author from the skies, and bade
    The sceptre wait with sov'reignty and sway
    On Judah's hand till Shiloh came. That light
    Which Beor's son in clearer vision saw,
    Its beams sore piercing his malignant eye;
    But yet constrain'd by the eternal truth
    Confess'd its origin and hail'd its rise,
    Fresh as a star from Judah's sacred line.
    This, Amos' son touch'd with seraphic fire
    In after times beheld. He saw it beam
    From Judah's royal tribe; he saw it shine
    O'er Judah's happy land, and bade the hills,
    The rocky hills and barren vallies smile,
    The desert blossom and the wilds rejoice.


    This is that light which purifies the soul,
    From mist obscure, of envy, hate, and pride;
    Bids love celestial in the bosom glow,
    Fresh kindling up the intellectual eye
    Of faith divine, in beatific view
    Of that high glory and seraphic bliss,
    Which he who reigns invisible, shall give
    To wait on virtue in the realms of day.


    This is that light which from remotest times
    Shone to the just; gave sweet serenity,
    And sunshine to the soul, of each wise sage,
    Fam'd patriarch, and holy man of God,
    Who in the infancy of time did walk
    With step unerring, through those dreary shades,
    Which veil'd the world e'er yet the golden sun
    Of revelation beam'd. Seth, Enos, and
    The family of him preserv'd from death
    By flood of waters. Abram and that swain
    Who erst exil'd in Midian did sing
    The world from chaos rising, and the birth
    Of various nature in the earth, or sea,
    Or element of air, or heav'n above.


    This is that light which on fair Zion hill
    Descending gradual, in full radiance beam'd
    O'er Canaan's happy land. Her fav'rite seers
    Had intercourse divine with this pure source,
    And oft from them a stream of light did flow,
    To each adjoining vale and desert plain,
    Lost in the umbrage of dark heathen shades.
    'Twas at this stream the fabling poets drank
    And sang how heav'n and earth from chaos rose;
    'Twas at this stream the wiser sages drank
    And straightway knew the soul immortal lives
    Beyond the grave and all the wrecks of time.


    From Judah's sacred hills a partial ray
    Extraneous, visited and cheer'd the gloom
    Spread o'er the shaded earth; yet more than half
    In superstition and the dreams of night
    Each hoary sage by long experience wise,
    And high philosopher of learning fam'd
    Lay buried deep shut from the light of day.
    Shut from the light of revelation clear
    In devious path they wandered oft,
    Nor could strong reason with the partial beam
    Of revelation, wholly dissipate
    The midnight horrors of so dark an age.
    Vain were their searches, and their reason vain,
    Else whence the visionary tales receiv'd,
    Of num'rous deities in earth, or heav'n
    Or sea, or river, or the shades profound
    Of Erebus, dark kingdom of the dead.
    Weak deities of fabled origin
    From king or hero, to the skies advanc'd
    For sanguinary appetite, and skill
    In cruel feats of arms, and tyranny
    O'er ev'ry right, and privilege of man.
    Vain were their searches, and their reason vain,
    Else whence the sculptur'd image of a god,
    And marble bust ador'd as deity,
    Altar and hecatomb prepar'd for these,
    Or human sacrifice when hecatomb
    Consum'd in vain with ceremony dire,
    And rites abhorr'd, denied the wish'd success.
    Reason is dark, else why heroic deem'd
    Fell suicide, as if 'twere fortitude
    And higher merit to recede from life,
    Shunning the ills of poverty, or pain,
    Or wasting sickness, or the victor's sword,
    Than to support with patience fully tried
    As Job, thence equall'd with him in renown.


    Shut from the light of revelation clear
    The world lay hid in shades, and reason's lamp
    Serv'd but to show how dark it was; but now
    The joyous time with hasty steps advanc'd,
    When truth no more should with a partial ray
    Shine on the shaded earth; now on swift wings
    The rosy hours brought on in beauty mild,
    The day-spring from on high, and from the top
    Of some fair mount Chaldean shepherds view
    That orient star which Beor's son beheld,
    From Aram east, and mark'd its lucid ray,
    Shedding sweet influence on Judah's land.
    Now o'er the plain of Bethl'em to the swains
    Who kept their flocks beneath the dews of night,
    A light appears expressive of that day
    More general, which o'er the shaded earth
    Breaks forth, and in the radiance of whose beams,
    The humble shepherd, and the river-swain
    By Jordan stream, or Galilea's lake,
    Can see each truth and paradox explain'd,
    Which not each wise philosopher of Greece,
    Could tell, nor sage of India, nor the sons
    Of Zoroaster, in deep secrets skill'd.


    Such light on Canaan shone but not confin'd
    With partial ray to Judah's favour'd land,
    Each vale and region to the utmost bound
    Of habitable earth, distant or nigh
    Soon finds a gleam of this celestial day:
    Fam'd Persia's mountains and rough Bactria's woods
    And Media's vales and Shinar's distant plain:
    The Lybian desert near Cyrene smiles
    And Ethiopia hails it to her shores.
    Arabia drinks the lustre of its ray
    Than fountain sweeter, or the cooling brook
    Which laves her burning sands; than stream long sought
    Through desert flowing and the scorched plain
    To Sheba's troop or Tema's caravan.


    Egypt beholds the dawn of this fair morn
    And boasts her rites mysterious no more;
    Her hidden learning wrapt in symbols strange
    Of hieroglyphic character, engrav'd
    On marble pillar, or the mountain rock,
    Or pyramid enduring many an age.
    She now receives asserted and explain'd
    That holy law, which on mount Sinai writ
    By God's own finger, and to Moses giv'n,
    And to the chosen seed, a rule of life.
    And strict obedience due; but now once more
    Grav'd on the living tablet of the heart,
    And deep impress'd by energy divine,
    Is legible through an eternal age.


    North of Judea now this day appears
    On Syria west, and in each city fair
    Full many a church of noble fame doth rise.
    In Antioch the seat of Syrian kings,
    And old Damascus, where Hazael reign'd.
    Now Cappadocia Mithridates' realm,
    And poison-bearing Pontus, whose deep shades
    Were shades of death, admit the light of truth.
    In Asia less seven luminaries rise,
    Bright lights, which with celestial vigour burn,
    And give the day in fullest glory round.
    There Symrna shines, and Thyatira there,
    There Ephesus a sister light appears,
    And Pergamus with kindred glory burns:
    She burns enkindled with a purer flame
    Than Troy of old, when Grecian kings combin'd
    Had set her gates on fire: The Hellespont
    And all th' Egean sea shone to the blaze.


    But now more west the gracious day serene
    On Athens rising, throws a dark eclipse
    On that high learning by her sages taught,
    In each high school of philosophic fame;
    Vain wisdom, useless sophistry condemn'd,
    As ignorance and foolishness of men.
    Let her philosophers debate no more
    In the Lyceum, or the Stoics porch,
    Holding high converse, but in error lost
    Of pain, and happiness, and fate supreme.
    Fair truth from heav'n draws all their reas'ning high
    In captive chains bound at her chariot wheels.


    Now Rome imperial, mistress of the world
    Drinks the pure lustre of the orient ray
    Assuaging her fierce thirst of bloody war,
    Dominion boundless, victory and fame;
    Each bold centurion, and each prætor finds
    A nobler empire to subdue themselves.


    From Rome the mistress of the world in peace,
    Far to the north the golden light ascends;
    To Gaul and Britain and the utmost bound
    Of Thule famous in poetic song,
    Victorious there where not Rome's consuls brave,
    Heroes, or conquering armies, ever came.
    Far in the artic skies a light is seen,
    Unlike that sun, which shall ere long retreat,
    And leave their hills one half the year in shades.
    Or that Aurora which the sailor sees
    Beneath the pole in dancing beams of light,
    Playing its gambols on the northern hills.
    That light is vain and gives no genial heat,
    To warm the tenants of those frozen climes,
    Or give that heav'nly vigour to the soul,
    Which truth divine and revelation brings;
    And but for which each heart must still remain,
    Hard as the rock on Scandanavia's shore,
    Cold as the ice which bridges up her streams,
    Fierce as the storm which tempests all her waves.


    Thus in its dawn did sacred truth prevail,
    In either hemisphere from north to south,
    From east to west through the long tract of day.
    From Shinar's plain to Thule's utmost isle,
    From Persia's bay to Scandanavia's shores.
    Cheer'd by its ray now ev'ry valley smiles,
    And ev'ry lawn smote by its morning beam.
    Now ev'ry hill reflects a purer ray,
    Than when Aurora paints his woods in gold,
    Or when the sun first in the orient sky,
    Sets thick with gems the dewy mountain's brow.


    The earth perceives a sov'reign virtue shed
    And from each cave, and midnight haunt retires
    Dark superstition, with her vot'ries skill'd,
    In potent charm, or spell of magic pow'r;
    In augury, by voice, or flight of birds,
    Or boding sign at morn, or noon, or eve,
    Portent and prodigy and omen dire.
    Each oracle by Demon, or the craft
    Of priests, made vocal, can declare no more
    Of high renown, and victory secure,
    To kings low prostrate at their bloody shrines.
    No more with vain uncertainty perplex
    Mistaken worshippers, or give unseen
    Response ambiguous in some mystic sound,
    And hollow murmer from the dark recess.
    No more of Lybian Jove; Dodona's oaks,
    In sacred grove give prophecy no more.
    Th' infernal deities retire abash'd,
    Our God himself on earth begins his reign;
    Pure revelation beams on ev'ry land,
    On ev'ry heart exerts a sov'reign sway,
    And makes the human nature grow divine.


    Now hideous war forgets one half her rage,
    And smoothes her visage horible to view.
    Celestial graces better sooth the soul,
    Than vocal music, or the charming sound
    Of harp or lyre. More than the golden lyre
    Which Orpheus tun'd in melancholy notes,
    Which almost pierc'd the dull cold ear of death,
    And mov'd the grave to give him back his bride.


    Peace with the graces and fair science now
    Wait on the gospel car; science improv'd
    Puts on a fairer dress; a fairer form
    Now ev'ry art assumes; bold eloquence
    Moves in a higher sphere than senates grave,
    Or mix'd assembly, or the hall of kings,
    Which erst with pompous panegyric rung.
    Vain words and soothing flattery she hates,
    And feigned tears, and tongue which silver-tipt
    Moves in the cause of wickedness and pride.
    She mourns not that fair liberty depress'd
    Which kings tyrannic can extort, but that
    Pure freedom of the soul to truth divine
    Which first indulg'd her and with envious hand
    Pluck'd thence, left hideous slavery behind.
    She weeps not loss of property on earth,
    Nor stirs the multitude to dire revenge
    With headlong violence, but soothes the soul
    To harmony and peace, bids them aspire
    With emulation and pure zeal of heart,
    To that high glory in the world unseen,
    And crown celestial, which pure virtue gives.


    Thus eloquence and poesy divine
    A nobler range of sentiment receive;
    Life brought to view and immortality,
    A recent world through which bold fancy roves,
    And gives new magic to the pow'r of song;
    For where the streams of revelation flow
    Unknown to bards of Helicon, or those
    Who on the top of Pindus, or the banks
    Of Arethusa and Eurotas stray'd,
    The poet drinks, and glorying in new strength,
    Soars high in rapture of sublimer strains;
    Such as that prophet sang who tun'd his harp
    On Zion hill and with seraphic praise
    In psalm and sacred ode by Siloa's brook,
    Drew HIS attention who first touch'd the soul
    With taste of harmony, and bade the spheres
    Move in rich measure to the songs on high.
    Fill'd with this spirit poesy no more
    Adorns that vain mythology believ'd,
    By rude barbarian, and no more receives,
    The tale traditional, and hymn profane,
    Sung by high genius, basely prostitute.
    New strains are heard, such as first in the morn
    Of time, were sung by the angelic choirs,
    When rising from chaotic state the earth
    Orbicular was seen, and over head
    The blazing sun, moon, planet, and each light
    That gilds the firmament, rush'd into view.


    Thus did the sun of revelation shine
    Full on the earth, and grateful were its beams:
    Its beams were grateful to the chosen seed,
    To all whose works were worthy of the day.
    But creatures lucifuge, whose ways were dark,
    Ere this in shades of paganism hid,
    Did vent their poison, and malignant breath,
    To stain the splendour of the light divine,
    Which pierc'd their cells and brought their deeds to view
    Num'rous combin'd of ev'ry tongue and tribe,
    Made battle proud, and impious war brought on,
    Against the chosen sanctified by light.
    Riches and pow'r leagu'd in their train were seen,
    Sword, famine, flames and death before them prey'd.
    Those faithful found, who undismay'd did bear
    A noble evidence to truth, were slain.
    Why should I sing of these or here record,
    As if 'twere praise, in poesy or song,
    Or sculptur'd stone, to eternize the names,
    Which writ elsewhere in the fair book of life,
    Shall live unsullied when each strain shall die:
    Shall undefac'd remain when sculptur'd stone,
    And monument, and bust, and storied urn
    Perpetuates its sage and king no more.


    The pow'r of torture and reproach was vain,
    But what not torture or reproach could do,
    Dark superstition did in part effect.
    That superstition, which saint John beheld,
    Rise in thick darkness from th' infernal lake.
    Locust and scorpion in the smoke ascend,
    False teacher, heretic, and Antichrist.
    The noon day sun is dark'ned in the sky,
    The moon forbears to give her wonted light.
    Full many a century the darkness rul'd,
    With heavier gloom than once on Egypt came,
    Save that on some lone coast, or desert isle,
    Where sep'rate far a chosen spirit dwelt,
    A Goshen shone, with partial-streaming ray.
    Night on the one side settles dark; on Rome,
    It settles dark, and ev'ry land more west
    Is wrapt in shades. Night on the east comes down
    With gloom Tartarean, and in part it rose
    From Tartary beneath the dusky pole.
    The ruthless Turk, and Saracen in arms,
    O'er-run the land the gospel once illum'd;
    The holy land Judea once so nam'd,
    And Syria west where many churches rose.
    Those golden luminaries are remov'd,
    Which once in Asia shone. Athens no more
    For truth and learning fam'd. Corinth obscur'd,
    Ionia mourns through all her sea-girt isles.


    But yet once more the light of truth shall shine
    In this obscure sojourn; shall shoot its beam
    In morning beauty mild, o'er hill and dale.
    See in Bohemia and the lands more west
    The heavenly ray of revelation shines,
    Fresh kindling up true love and purest zeal.


    Britannia next beholds the risen day
    In reformation bright; cheerful she hails
    It from her snow-white cliffs, and bids her sons,
    Rise from the mist of popery obscure.
    Her worthier sons, whom not Rome's pontiff high,
    Nor king with arbitrary sway could move.
    Those mightier who with constancy untam'd,
    Did quench the violence of fire, at death
    Did smile, and maugre ev'ry pain, of bond,
    Cold dark imprisonment, and scourge severe,
    By hell-born popery devis'd, held fast
    The Christian hope firm anchor of the soul.
    Or those who shunning that fell rage of war,
    And persecution dire, when civil pow'r,
    Leagu'd in with sacerdotal sway triumph'd,
    O'er ev'ry conscience, and the lives of men,
    Did brave th' Atlantic deep and through its storms
    Sought these Americ shores: these happier shores
    Where birds of calm delight to play, where not
    Rome's pontiff high, nor arbitrary king,
    Leagu'd in with sacerdotal sway are known.
    But peace and freedom link'd together dwell,
    And reformation in full glory shines.
    Oh for a muse of more exalted wing,
    To celebrate those men who planted first
    The christian church in these remotest lands;
    From those high plains where spreads a colony,
    Gen'rous and free, from Massachusett-shores,
    To the cold lakes margin'd with snow: from that
    Long dreary tract of shady woods and hills,
    Where Hudson's icy stream rolls his cold wave,
    To those more sunny bowers where zephyrs breath,
    And round which flow in circling current swift
    The Delaware and Susquehannah streams.
    Thence to those smiling plains where Chesapeak
    Spreads her maternal arms, encompassing
    In soft embrace, full many a settlement,
    Where opulence, with hospitality,
    And polish'd manners, and the living plant
    Of science blooming, sets their glory high [1].
    Thence to Virginia, sister colony,
    Lib'ral in sentiment, and breathing high,
    The noble ardour of the freeborn soul.
    To Carolina thence, and that warm clime
    Where Georgia south in summer heat complains,
    And distant thence towards the burning line.


    These men deserve our song, and those who still,
    With industry severe, and steady aim
    Diffuse the light in this late dreary land,
    In whose lone wastes and solitudes forlorn,
    Death long sat brooding with his raven wing.
    Who many 'a structure of great fame have rais'd,
    College, and school, upon th' Atlantic coast,
    Or inland town, through ev'ry province wide,
    Which rising up like pyramids of fire,
    Give light and glory to the western world.


    These men we honour, and their names shall last
    Sweet in the mouths and memory of men;
    Or if vain man unconscious of their worth,
    Refuse a tear when in some lonely vale
    He sees those faithful laid; each breeze shall sigh,
    Each passing gale shall mourn, each tree shall bend
    Its heavy head, in sorrow o'er their tombs,
    And some sad stream run ever weeping by.
    Weep not O stream, nor mourn thou passing gale,
    Beneath those grassy tombs their bodies lie,
    But they have risen from each labour bere
    To make their entrance on a nobler stage.
    What though with us they walk the humble vale
    Of indigence severe, with want oppress'd?
    Riches belong not to their family,
    Nor sloth luxurious nor the pride of kings;
    But truth meek-ey'd and warm benevolence
    Wisdom's high breeding in her sons rever'd
    Bespeaks them each the children[2] of a king.
    The christian truth of origin divine,
    Grows not beneath the shade of civil pow'r,
    Riches or wealth accompanied with pride;
    Nor shall it bloom transplanted to that soil,
    Where persecution, in malignant streams,
    Flows out to water it; black streams and foul
    Which from the lake of Tartarus break forth,
    The sickly tide of Acheron which flows,
    With putrid waves through the infernal shades.
    This plant of heaven loves the gentle beams,
    Of truth and meekness, and the kindly dew
    Which fell on Zion hill; it loves the care
    Of humble shepherds, and the rural swain,
    And tended by their hands it flourishes
    With fruit and blossoms, and soon gives a shade,
    Beneath which ev'ry traveller shall rest,
    Safe from the burning east-wind and the sun.
    A vernal shade not with'ring like the gourd
    Of him who warned Nineveh, but like
    The aged oaks immortal on the plain
    Of Kadesh, or tall cedars on the hill
    Of Lebanon, and Hermon's shady top.


    High is their fame through each succeeding age
    Who build the walls of Zion upon earth.
    Let mighty kings and potentates combine,
    To raise a pyramid, which neither storm,
    Nor sea indignant, nor the raging fire,
    Nor time can waste, or from firm basis move.
    Or let them strive by counsel or by arms,
    To fix a throne, and in imperial sway,
    Build up a kingdom shadowing the earth,
    Unmov'd by thunder or impetuous storm
    Of civil war, dark treason, or the shock
    Of hostile nations, in dire league combin'd.
    They build a kingdom of a nobler date,
    Who build the kingdom of the Saviour God.
    This, not descending rain, nor mighty storm,
    Nor sea indignant, nor the raging fire,
    Nor time shall waste, or from firm basis move.
    Rounded on earth its head doth reach the skies,
    Secure from thunder, and impetuous storm,
    Of civil war, dark treason, or the shock
    Of hostile nations in dire league combin'd.
    This still shall flourish and survive the date,
    Of each wide state and empire of the earth
    Which yet shall rise, as now of those which once
    From richest Asia or from Europe spread
    On mighty base and shaded half the world.
    Great Babylon which vex'd the chosen seed,
    And by whose streams the captive Hebrews sat,
    In desolation lies, and Syria west,
    Where the Seleucidæ did fix their throne,
    Loud-thund'ring thence o'er Judah's spoiled land,
    Boasts her proud rule no more. Rome pagan next,
    The raging furnace where the saints were tried,
    No more enslaves mankind. Rome papal too
    Contracts her reign and speaks proud things no more.
    The throne of Ottoman is made to shake,
    The Russian thund'ring to his firmest seat;
    Another age shall see his empire fall.
    Yet in the east the light of truth shall shine,
    And like the sun returning after storms
    Which long had raged through a sunless sky,
    Shall beam beningly on forsaken lands.
    The day serene once more on Zion hill
    Descending gradual, shall in radiance beam
    On Canaan's happy land. Her fav'rite seers
    Have intercourse divine with this pure source;
    Perennial thence rich streams of light shall flow,
    To each adjoining vale and desert plain
    Lost in the umbrage of dark heathen shades.
    The gospel light shall gloriously survive
    The wasting blaze of ev'ry baser fire.
    The fire of Vesta, an eternal fire,
    So falsely call'd and kept alive at Rome;
    Sepulchral lamp in burial place of kings,
    Burn'd unconsum'd for many ages down;
    But yet not Vesta's fire eternal call'd
    And kept alive at Rome, nor burning lamp
    Hid in sepulchral monument of kings,
    Shall bear an equal date with that true light,
    Which shone from earth to heav'n, and which shall shine
    Up through eternity, and be the light
    Of heav'n, the new Jerusalem above.
    This light from heav'n shall yet illume the earth
    And give its beams to each benighted land
    Now with new glory lighted up again.
    Then ruthless Turk and Saracen shall know
    The fallacies of him Medina bred,
    And whose vain tomb, in Mecca they adore.
    Then Jews shall view the great Messiah come,
    And each rent tribe in caravan by land,
    Or ship by sea, shall visit Palestine
    Thrice holy then, with vile Idolatry
    No more defil'd, altar on mountain head,
    Green shady hill, or idol of the grove.
    For there a light appears, with which compar'd,
    That was a twilight shed by rite obscure,
    And ceremony dark and sacrifice
    Dimly significant of things to come.
    Blest with this light no more they deviate
    In out-way path; distinguished no more
    By school or sect, Essene or Saducee,
    Cairite or Scribe of Pharisaic mould.
    Jew and Samaritan debate no more,
    Whether on Gerizim or Zion hill
    They shall bow down. Above Moriah's mount
    Each eye is raised to him, whose temple is
    Th' infinitude of space, whom earth, sea, sky
    And heav'n itself cannot contain. No more
    The noise of battle shall be heard, or shout
    Of war by heathen princes wag'd; There's nought
    Shall injure or destroy; they shall not hurt
    In all my holy mountain saith the Lord.
    The earth in peace and ev'ry shadow fled,
    Bespeaks Emmanuel's happy reign when Jew,
    And kindred Gentile shall no more contend,
    Save in the holier strife of hymn and song,
    To him who leads captive captivity,
    Who shall collect the sons of Jacob's line,
    And bring the fulness of the Gentiles in.
    Thrice happy day when Gentiles are brought in
    Complete and full; when with its genial beams
    The day shall break on each benighted land
    Which yet in darkness and in vision lies:
    On Scythia and Tartary's bleak hills;
    On mount Imaus, and Hyrcanian cliffs
    Of Caucasus, and dark Iberian dales;
    Japan and China, and the sea-girt isles
    The ancient Ophir deem'd; for there rich gems
    And diamond pearl, and purest gold is found.


    Thrice happy day when this whole earth shall feel
    The sacred ray of revelation shed,
    Far to the west, through each remotest land
    With equal glory rivalling the day
    Pour'd on the east. When these Americ shores
    Shall far and wide be light, and heav'nly day
    Shall in full glory rise on many a reign,
    Kingdom and empire bending to the south,
    And nation touching the Pacific shore.
    When Christian churches shall adorn the streams
    Which now unheeded flow with current swift
    Circling the hills, where fiercest beasts of prey,
    Panther and wolf in nightly concert howl.
    The Indian sage from superstition freed,
    Be taught a nobler heav'n than cloud-topt-hill,
    Or sep'rate island in the wat'ry waste.
    The aged Sachem fix his moving tribe,
    And grow humane now taught the arts of peace.
    In human sacrifice delight no more,
    Mad cantico or savage feast of war.
    Such scenes of fierce barbarity no more
    Be perpetrated there, but truth divine
    Shine on the earth in one long cloudless day,
    Till that last hour which shuts the scene of things,
    When this pure light shall claim its native skies;
    When the pure stream of revelation shall,
    With refluent current visit its first hills:
    There shall it mix with that crystalline wave,
    Which laves the walls of Paradise on high,
    And from beneath the seat of God doth spring.
    This is that river from whose sacred head
    The sanctified in golden arms draw light,
    On either side of which that tree doth grow
    Which yields immortal fruit, and in whose shade
    If shade were needed there, the rapt shall sing,
    In varied melody to harp and lyre,
    The sacred song of Moses and the Lamb:
    Eternity's high arches ring; 'Tis heard
    Through both infinitudes of space and time.


    Thus have I sung to this high-favour'd bow'r,
    And sacred shades which taught me first to sing,
    With grateful mind a tributary strain.
    Sweet grove no more I visit you, no more
    Beneath your shades shall meditate my lay.
    Adieu ye lawns and thou fair hill adieu,
    And you O shepherds, and ye graces fair
    With comely presence honouring the day,
    Far hence I go to some sequest'red vale
    By woody hill or shady mountain side,
    Where far from converse and the social band,
    My days shall pass inglorious away: [3]
    But this shall be my exultation still
    My chiefest merit and my only joy,
    That when the hunter on some western hill,
    Or furzy glade shall see my grassy tomb,
    And know the stream which mourns unheeded by,
    He for a moment shall repress his step,
    And say, There lies a Son of Nassau-Hall.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    An August Midnight
    by Thomas Hardy


    I

    A shaded lamp and a waving blind,
    And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:
    On this scene enter--winged, horned, and spined -
    A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledore;
    While 'mid my page there idly stands
    A sleepy fly, that rubs its hands . . .

    II

    Thus meet we five, in this still place,
    At this point of time, at this point in space.
    - My guests parade my new-penned ink,
    Or bang at the lamp-glass, whirl, and sink.
    "God's humblest, they!" I muse. Yet why?
    They know Earth-secrets that know not I.


    ----------------------------------------------

    Thomas Hardy (1840-1928) own life wasn't similar to his stories. He was born on the Egdon Heath, in Dorset, near Dorchester. His father was a master mason and building contractor. Hardy's mother, whose tastes included Latin poets and French romances, provided for his education. After schooling in Dorchester Hardy was apprenticed to an architect. He worked in an office, which specialized in restoration of churches. In 1874 Hardy married Emma Lavinia Gifford, for whom he wrote 40 years later, after her death, a group of poems known as VETERIS VESTIGIAE FLAMMAE (Vestiges of an Old Flame).

    At the age of 22 Hardy moved to London and started to write poems, which idealized the rural life. He was an assistant in the architectural firm of Arthur Blomfield, visited art galleries, attended evening classes in French at King's College, enjoyed Shakespeare and opera, and read works of Charles Darwin, Herbert Spencer, and John Stuart Mills, whose positivism influenced him deeply. In 1867 Hardy left London for the family home in Dorset, and resumed work briefly with Hicks in Dorchester. He entered into a temporary engagement with Tryphena Sparks, a sixteen-year-old relative. Hardy continued his architectural work, but encouraged by Emma Lavinia Gifford, he started to consider literature as his "true vocation."

    Unable to find public for his poetry, the novelist George Meredith advised Hardy to write a novel. His first novel, THE POOR MAN AND THE LADY, was written in 1867, but the book was rejected by many publishers and he destroyed the manuscript. His first book that gained notice, was FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD (1874). After its success Hardy was convinced that he could earn his living as an author. He devoted himself entirely to writing and produced a series of novels, among them THE RETURN OF NATIVE (1878), THE MAYOR OF CASTERBRIDGE (1886).

    TESS OF THE D'URBERVILLES (1891) came into conflict with Victorian morality. It explored the dark side of his family connections in Berkshire. In the story the poor villager girl Tess Durbeyfield is seduced by the wealthy Alec D'Uberville. She becomes pregnant but the child dies in infancy. Tess finds work as a dairymaid on a farm and falls in love with Angel Clare, a clergyman's son. They marry but when Tess tells Angel about her past, he hypocritically desert her. Tess becomes Alec's mistress. Angel returns from Brazil, repenting his harshness, but finds her living with Alec. Tess kills Alec in desperation, she is arrested and hanged.

    Hardy's JUDE THE OBSCURE (1895) aroused even more debate. The story dramatized the conflict between carnal and spiritual life, tracing Jude Fawley's life from his boyhood to his early death. Jude marries Arabella, but deserts her. He falls in love with his cousin, hypersensitive Sue Bridehead, who marries the decaying schoolmaster, Phillotson, in a masochist fit. Jude and Sue obtain divorces, but their life together deteriorates under the pressure of poverty and social disapproval. The eldest son of Jude and Arabella, a grotesque boy nicknamed 'Father Time', kills their children and himself. Broken by the loss, Sue goes back to Phillotson, and Jude returns to Arabella. Soon thereafter Jude dies, and his last words are: "Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, and life unto the bitter in soul?".

    In 1896, disturbed by the public uproar over the unconventional subjects of two of his greatest novels, Tess of the D'Urbervilles and Jude the Obscure, Hardy announced that he would never write fiction again. A bishop solemnly burnt the book, 'probably in his despair at not being able to burn me', Hardy noted. Hardy's marriage had also suffered from the public outrage - critics on both sides of the Atlantic abused the author as degenerate and called the work itself disgusting. In April, 1912, Hardy wrote:

    By 1885 the Hardys had settled near Dorchester at Max gate, a house designed by the author and built by his brother, Henry. With the exceptions of seasonal stays in London and occasional excursions abroad, his Bockhampton home, "a modest house, providing neither more nor less than the accommodation ... needed" (as Michael Millgate describes it in his biography of the author) was his home for the rest of his life.

    After giving up the novel, Hardy brought out a first group of Wessex poems, some of which had been composed 30 years before. During the remainder of his life, Hardy continued to publish several collections of poems. "Hardy, in fact, was the ideal poet of a generation. He was the most passionate and the most learned of them all. He had the luck, singular in poets, of being able to achieve a competence other than by poetry and then devote the ending years of his life to his beloved verses." (Ford Madox Ford in The March of Literature, 1938) Hardy's gigantic panorama of the Napoleonic Wars, THE DYNASTS, composed between 1903 and 1908, was mostly in blank verse. Hardy succeeded on the death of his friend George Meredith to the presidency of the Society of Authors in 1909. King George V conferred on him the Order of Merit and he received in 1912 the gold medal of the Royal Society of Literature.

    Hardy kept to his marriage with Emma Gifford although it was unhappy and he had - or he imagined he had - affairs with other women passing briefly through his life. Emma Hardy died in 1912 and in 1914 Hardy married his secretary, Florence Emily Dugdale, a woman in her 30's, almost 40 years younger than he. From 1920 through 1927 Hardy worked on his autobiography, which was disguised as the work of Florence Hardy. It appeared in two volumes (1928 and 1930). Hardy's last book published in his lifetime was HUMAN SHOWS, FAR PHANTASIES, SONGS AND TRIFLES (1925). WINTER WORDS IN VARIOUS MOODS AND METRES appeared posthumously in 1928.

    Hardy died in Dorchester, Dorset, on January 11, 1928. His ashes were cremated in Dorchester and buried with impressive ceremonies in the Poet's Corner in Westminster Abbey. According to a literary anecdote his heart was to be buried in Stinsford, his birthplace, and all went according to plan, until a cat belonging to the poet's sister snatched the heart off the kitchen, where it was temporarily kept, and disappeared into the woods with it.

    The center of Hardy's novels was the rather desolate and history-freighted countryside around Dorchester. His novels bravely challenged many of the sexual and religious conventions of the Victorian age, and dared to present a bleak view into human nature. In the early 1860s, after the appearance Darwin's Origin of Species (1859), Hardy's faith was still unshaken, but he soon adopted the mechanical-determinist view of nature's cruelty, reflected in the inevitably tragic and self-destructive fates of his characters. In his poems Hardy depicted rural life without sentimentality - his mood was often stoically hopeless. "Though he was a modern, even a revolutionary writer in his time, most of us read him now as a lyrical pastoralist. It may be a sign of the times that some of us take his books to bed, as if even his pessimistic vision was one that enabled us to sleep soundly." (Anatole Broyard in New York Times, May 12, 1982)
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    To Mr. Vaughan, Silurist on His Poems
    by Katherine Philips


    Had I ador'd the multitude, and thence
    Got an antipathy to wit and sence,
    And hug'd that fate, in hope the world would grant
    'Twas good -- affection to be ignorant;
    Yet the least ray of thy bright fancy seen
    I had converted, or excuseless been:
    For each birth of thy muse to after-times
    Shall expatiate for all this age's crimes.
    First shines the Armoret, twice crown'd by thee,
    Once by they Love, next by Poetry;
    Where thou the best of Unions dost dispence:
    Truth cloth'd in wit, and Love in innocence.
    So that the muddyest Lovers may learn here,
    No fountains can be sweet that are not clear.
    Then Juvenall reviv'd by thee declares
    How flat man's Joys are, and how mean his cares;
    And generously upbraids the world that they
    Should such a value for their ruine pay.
    But when thy sacred muse diverts her quill,
    The Lantskip to design of Zion-Hill;32
    As nothing else was worthy her or thee,
    So we admire almost t'Idolatry.
    What savage brest would not be rapt to find
    Such Jewells insuch Cabinets enshrind'?
    Thou (fill'd with joys too great to see or count)
    Descend'st from thence like Moses from the Mount,
    And with a candid, yet unquestioned aw,
    Restorlst the Golden Age when Verse was Law.
    Instructing us, thou so secur'st thy fame,
    That nothing can distrub it but my name;
    Nay I have hoped that standing so near thine
    'Twill lose its drosse, and by degrees refine ...
    "Live, till the disabused world consent
    All truths of use, or strength, or ornament,
    Are with such harmony by thee displaid,
    As the whole world was first by number made
    And from the charming rigour thy Muse brings
    Learn there's no pleasure but in serious things.

    ---------------------------------------------------

    Katherine Fowler was born on New Year's day, 1631 in London, England. Her father, John Fowler, was a Presbyterian merchant. Katherine was educated at one of the Hackney boarding-schools, where she became fluent in several languages. After the death of John Fowler, Katherine's mother married a Welshman, Hector Philips, and, in 1647, at the age of sixteen, Katherine was married to fifty-four-year old James Philips, Hector's son by his first wife.

    In spite of the difference in their ages, there appears to have been little conflict between Katherine and James. What division there was, was political in nature: she was a Royalist; he supported Oliver Cromwell. This difference in their views is recorded in Katherine's poetry. However, James continued to reside on the coast of Wales, while his wife spent much of her time in London. He encouraged her literary activities and left her largely to her own devices.

    Her time was not idly spent. Besides bearing two children (a son, Hector, who lived only forty days, and a daughter, Katherine, who lived to be married), Philips founded The Society of Friendship, wrote some hundred and sixteen poems, completed five verse translations, and translated two plays by Pierre Corneille (1606-1684) from the French. The earlier of these dramatic translations, a rendering of Pompey, was produced in 1663, the first play by a woman to be performed on the London stage. It was also performed, to great acclaim, in Dublin in the same year. The later translation, Horace, was not finished in her lifetime. Sir John Denham (1615 - 1669) completed her work, and the play was produced in 1668.

    The Society of Friendship (1651-1661) was a semi-literary correspondence circle composed primarily of women, though men were also involved. The membership, however, is somewhat in question, as its members took pseudonyms from Classical literature (Katherine Philips, for instance, took the name Orinda, to which other members appended the accolade "Matchless." It is as "Matchless Orinda" that Philips is most often known, as this was her usual signature.) Poet Henry Vaughan (1622-1695) was probably a member, and in some degree a personal friend to Philips. It was as a preface to his poems that hers were first published, in 1651. (The only other publication of Philips' work in her lifetime was an unauthorized edition in 1664).

    More important are the female members of the circle, especially Anne Owen, known in Philips's poems as Lucasia. Fully half of Philips's poetry is dedicated to this woman; the two seem to have been lovers in an emotional, if not in a physical, sense for about ten years. Also significant as correspondents and lovers and Mary Awbrey (Rosania) and Elizabeth Boyle (Celimena). Boyle's relationship with Philips, however, was cut short by Philips' death in 1664. These loves are prominent in Philips's poetry. Because she used the language of courtly love to describe her relationships, their extent and nature are not entirely certain, but the love between these women was most likely platonic. Philips remarked at time that love between women was pure, uncorrupted by the sexual. The poetry does not overtly suggest physical relationships. In fact, Philips' contemporaries often praised her modest, properly feminine subject matter.

    Katherine Philips died of smallpox June 22, 1664, in London. She was thirty-three years old. Her death was mourned in verse by the metaphysical poet Abraham Cowley. The first authorized collection of her verse was not published until 1667. A century and a half later, the Romantic poet John Keats admired her work in a letter to a friend.
    ----------------------------------------------------------------

    Just found this amazing poetess this morn. This poem struck me as a great one to post here.
    Shows the brilliance of female poets . That women can think deeply and write as well as any man can.-Tyr
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 06-20-2015 at 09:26 AM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    The Sun Rising
    ******************************** by John Donne
    Busy old fool, unruly sun,
    Why dost thou thus,
    Through windows and through curtains, call on us?
    Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?
    Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
    Late schoolboys and sour 'prentices,
    Go tell court-huntsmen that the King will ride,
    Call country ants to harvest offices;
    Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime,
    Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

    Thy beams so reverend and strong
    Why shouldst thou think?
    I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink
    But that I would not lose her sight so long:
    If her eyes have not blinded thine,
    Look, and, tomorrow late, tell me
    Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine
    Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me.
    Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,
    And thou shalt hear 'All here in one bed lay'.

    She is all states, and all princes I;
    Nothing else is.
    Princes do but play us; compared to this,
    All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy.
    Thou, sun, art half as happy as we,
    In that the world's contracted thus;
    Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
    To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
    Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
    This bed thy centre is, these walls thy sphere.


    ------------------------------------------------------------------

    John Donne was born in London into an old Roman Catholic family at a time when anti-Catholic feeling in England was near its height. He was educated at home by Catholic tutors. He attended both Oxford and Cambridge Universities, as well as Lincoln's Inn as a trainee lawyer, he never took any academic degrees and never practised law. In 1593 his younger brother Henry died in prison after being arrested for harbouring a priest. Somewhere around this time Donne renounced his faith. He read enormously in divinity, medicine, law and the classics and wrote to display his learning and wit. In 1598 he was appointed private secretary to Sir Thomas Egerton and sat in Elizabeth's last parliament. In 1601 he secretly married seventeen-year-old Ann More, Lady Egerton's niece. Sir George More had Donne imprisoned for a brief period and dismissed from his post. The next fourteen years were marked by his attempts to live down his shame, and to try to make a living to support his growing family, but depending largely on the charity of friends and his wife's relations.

    On the suggestion of James I who approved of the anti-Catholic sentiments of Pseudo-Martyr (1610), Donne took orders in 1615. In due course he was appointed Reader in Divinity at Lincoln's Inn and was deemed a great preacher. His wife died in 1617 aged thirty-three after giving birth to their twelfth child. In 1618 he went as chaplain to the Earl of Doncaster in his embassy to the German princes. His 'Hymn to Christ at the Author's Last Going into Germany', written before the journey, is full of the apprehension of death. In 1621 he was made Dean of St Paul's. His private devotions were published in 1624 and he continued to write sacred poetry almost up to his death. Towards the end of his life he became obsessed with death and preached what was called his own funeral sermon just a few weeks before he died.

    The influence of his poetic style was widely felt in the sixteenth century. He tangibly influenced Andrew Marvell, George Herbert, Henry Vaughan and others, and is deemed the greatest of what John Dryden and Samuel Johnson called the 'metaphysical poets'.

    -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    I am currently keeping a running list of 20 poets to read and study. As I drop one poet off the list I pick another poet up.
    This is my newest choice to read and study.
    This guy was a genius that influenced many Famous poets born long after he was passed on.. Tyr
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    When I'm Killed
    by Robert Graves


    When I’m killed, don’t think of me
    Buried there in Cambrin Wood,
    Nor as in Zion think of me
    With the Intolerable Good.
    And there’s one thing that I know well,
    I’m damned if I’ll be damned to Hell!

    So when I’m killed, don’t wait for me,
    Walking the dim corridor;
    In Heaven or Hell, don’t wait for me,
    Or you must wait for evermore.
    You’ll find me buried, living-dead
    In these verses that you’ve read.

    So when I’m killed, don’t mourn for me,
    Shot, poor lad, so bold and young,
    Killed and gone — don’t mourn for me.
    On your lips my life is hung:
    O friends and lovers, you can save
    Your playfellow from the grave.

    ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Robert Graves was born in 1895 in Wimbledon, a suburb of London. Graves was known as a poet, lecturer and novelist. He was also known as a classicist and a mythographer. Perhaps his first known and revered poems were the poems Groves wrote behind the lines in World War One. He later became known as one of the most superb English language 'Love' poets. He then became recognised as one of the finest love poets writing in the English language.

    Members of the poetry, novel writing, historian, and classical scholarly community often feel indebted to the man and his works. Robert Graves was born into an interesting time in history. He actually saw Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee procession at the age of two or three. His family was quite patriotic, educated, strict and upper middle class.He saw his father as an authoritarian. He was not liked by his peers in school, nor did he care much for them. He attended British public school. He feared most of his Masters at the school. When he did seek out company, it was of the same sex and his relationships were clearly same sex in orientation.

    Although he had a scholarship secured in the classics at Oxford, he escaped his childhood and Father through leaving for the Great War. Graves married twice, once to Nancy Nicholson, and they had four children, and his second marriage to Beryl Pritchard brought forth four more children. Graves married Nancy Nicholson before the war.
    Graves' own poetry and prose is the best source for a description of his war experiences. It suffices to say that Graves never found what he was looking for leaving for war, but rather, terror and madness in the war. He was wounded, left for dead and pronounced dead by his surgeon in the field and his commanding officer in a telegram to his parents but subsequently recovered to read the report of his own demise in The Times. He amazingly recovered and was given home service for the rest of the war.However, like many of his fellow soldiers who were disabled by war, he could not get over the guilt he had leaving the other soldiers to fight without him. Somehow, he insisted he be posted back to the front lines. The military surgeon threatened him with court marshall if he didn’t get off the front. Graves returned to England trained troops, while maintaining contact with his poet friends behind the lines. In this way he was able to save one friend from court martial after he published an antiwar manifesto.

    Though their relationship was initially happy and productive (Nancy and Robert worked on a children's book together), the stress of family life, little money and Robert's continual shell-shocked condition caused them troubles. Laura Ridding arriving on the scene finished off their marriage.Laura Riding and Robert Graves' relationship was immensely influential upon both of their lives and careers. After Riding's arrival in England, she began to exert an influence on more than just Graves' writing. Following a sequence of events so crazy that they seem more suitable to fiction than reality (including, for example, Laura Riding leaping from a third floor window and breaking her pelvic bone in three places), Graves abandoned his family and moved with Riding from England to Spain. The events of this period were so momentous that all three biographers that have covered his story, dedicate a large part of their studies to this couple.It's easy to vilify Laura Riding. Graves was but one victim of her controlling personality and her ambition. But then, Graves had his victims too. What cannot be questioned is the value of some of the work that they did together. Much of it remains important to both literary history as well as to scholarship.

    In 1943 Robert Graves received the news that his son, David, was missing in action. While he and Nancy held out hope that he would be found alive or that he might have been taken prisoner, later reports suggested otherwise. David, Robert and Nancy learned, had been shot while attempting to single-handedly take out a well-defended enemy position. The chances that he had survived were not good.By 1946 as England and Europe began to survey its post-War state, Graves managed to secure transport for his family back to Majorca. Once safely back there, then other than annual trips to England, occasional visits to the continent and even rarer trips to America, the Graves' made Deya their home for good. After 1948 and the publication of The White Goddess, as Graves' fame and celebrity grew, Graves began a period of discovering muses who provided him with a flesh-and-blood manifestation of his poetic and mythic muse. Some of these relationships were short, others seemed largely innocent and more flirtatious than serious or deeply poetic; however, four were, without doubt, significant to Graves' life and, subsequently, to his work.

    Graves' first muse after Nancy Nicholson, Laura Riding and Beryl Graves, the first after he his White Goddess theories, was Judith Bledsoe. Judith was a naïve young girl who found in the older Graves something of a father figure Graves found in her the embodiment of the White Goddess.Graves had many celebrity friends including film stars like Ava Gardner and Ingrid Bergman, fellow writers like T. S. Eliot and Gertrude Stein. Robert Graves ceased writing after his 80th birthday and his celebrity status slowly began to fade. However, where his own career stopped, the critical and academic industry was just beginning. He died in 1985 in Deja, a Majorcan village that he had moved to and lived in since 1929.

    -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    Graves lived 1895 until 1985. Myself, Ive never read a poem he wrote that was not great or at least very fine!
    His influence on poetry was massive IMHO.-Tyr
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    A Dream Within A Dream
    ------- by Edgar Allan Poe


    Take this kiss upon the brow!
    And, in parting from you now,
    Thus much let me avow--
    You are not wrong, who deem
    That my days have been a dream;
    Yet if hope has flown away
    In a night, or in a day,
    In a vision, or in none,
    Is it therefore the less gone?
    All that we see or seem
    Is but a dream within a dream.

    I stand amid the roar
    Of a surf-tormented shore,
    And I hold within my hand
    Grains of the golden sand--
    How few! yet how they creep
    Through my fingers to the deep,
    While I weep--while I weep!
    O God! can I not grasp
    Them with a tighter clasp?
    O God! can I not save
    One from the pitiless wave?
    Is all that we see or seem
    But a dream within a dream?
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    A deep one and a dark one that impressed me greatly.--Tyr
    -------------------------------------------------------------------------


    De Profundis

    --------------------------------- by Georg Trakl


    There is a stubble field on which a black rain falls.
    There is a tree which, brown, stands lonely here.
    There is a hissing wind which haunts deserted huts---
    How sad this evening.

    Past the village pond
    The gentle orphan still gathers scanty ears of corn.
    Golden and round her eyes are gazing in the dusk
    And her lap awaits the heavenly bridegroom.

    Returning home
    Shepherds found the sweet body
    Decayed in the bramble bush.

    A shade I am remote from sombre hamlets.
    The silence of God
    I drank from the woodland well.

    On my forehead cold metal forms.
    Spiders look for my heart.
    There is a light that fails in my mouth.

    At night I found myself upon a heath,
    Thick with garbage and the dust of stars.
    In the hazel copse
    Crystal angels have sounded once more.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    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.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    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.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    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



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    Lord when the wise men came from farr

    ---------------------------------------------------- by Sidney Godolphin
    LORD when the wise men came from farr
    Ledd to thy Cradle by A Starr,
    Then did the shepheards too rejoyce,
    Instructed by thy Angells voyce,
    Blest were the wisemen in their skill,
    And shepheards in their harmelesse will.

    Wisemen in tracing natures lawes
    Ascend unto the highest cause,
    Shepheards with humble fearefulnesse
    Walke safely, though their light be lesse:
    Though wisemen better know the way
    It seemes noe honest heart can stray.

    Ther is noe merrit in the wise
    But love, (the shepheards sacrifice).
    Wisemen all wayes of knowledge past,
    To th' shepheards wonder come at last,
    To know, can only wonder breede,
    And not to know, is wonders seede.

    A wiseman at the Alter bowes
    And offers up his studied vowes
    And is received; may not the teares,
    Which spring too from a shepheards feares,
    And sighs upon his fraylty spent,
    Though not distinct, be eloquent?

    Tis true, the object sanctifies
    All passions which within us rise,
    But since noe creature comprehends
    The cause of causes, end of ends,
    Hee who himselfe vouchsafes to know
    Best pleases his creator soe.

    When then our sorrowes we applye
    To our owne wantes and poverty,
    When wee looke up in all distresse
    And our owne misery confesse
    Sending both thankes and prayers above,
    Then though wee do not know, we love.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Alcidor
    ------------------------------------ by Anne Kingsmill Finch


    While Monarchs in stern Battle strove
    For proud Imperial Sway;
    Abandon'd to his milder Love,
    Within a silent peaceful Grove,
    Alcidor careless lay.

    Some term'd it cold, unmanly Fear;
    Some, Nicety of Sense,
    That Drums and Trumpets cou'd not hear,
    The sullying Blasts of Powder bear,
    Or with foul Camps dispense.

    A patient Martyr to their Scorn,
    And each ill-fashion'd Jest;
    The Youth, who but for Love was born,
    Remain'd, and thought it vast Return,
    To reign in Cloria's Breast.

    But oh! a ruffling Soldier came
    In all the Pomp of War:
    The Gazettes long had spoke his Fame;
    Now Hautboys his Approach proclaim,
    And draw in Crouds from far.

    Cloria unhappily wou'd gaze;
    And as he nearer drew,
    The Man of Feather and of Lace
    Stopp'd short, and with profound Amaze
    Took all her Charms to view.

    A Bow, which from Campaigns he brought,
    And to his Holsters low,
    Herself, and the Spectators taught,
    That Her the fairest Nymph he thought,
    Of all that form'd the Row.

    Next day, ere Phoebus cou'd be seen,
    Or any Gate unbarr'd;
    At hers, upon th' adjoining Green,
    From Ranks, with waving Flags between,
    Were soften'd Trumpets heard.

    The Noon do's following Treats provide,
    In the Pavilion's Shade;
    The Neighborhood, and all beside,
    That will attend the amorous Pride,
    Are welcom'd with the Maid.

    Poor Alcidor! thy Hopes are cross'd,
    Go perish on the Ground;
    Thy Sighs by stronger Notes are toss'd,
    Drove back, or in the Passage lost;
    Rich Wines thy Tears have drown'd.

    In Women's Hearts, the softest Things
    Which Nature cou'd devise,
    Are yet some harsh, and jarring Strings,
    That, when loud Fame, or Profit rings,
    Will answer to the Noise
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    VICTOR MARIE HUGO was born in Basancon, February 26, 1802.

    His father was a military officer, hence in childhood Victor was not settled in any one locality, but was carried to Elba,
    Corsica, Switzerland, and Italy.

    In his seventh year he was taken to Paris, where his mother and an old priest superintended his education, and where he
    commenced his classical studies in company with an elder brother, Eugene, and a young girl who afterward became his wife.
    In 1811, his father having been made ......
    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Boaz Asleep
    -------------------------------by Victor Hugo


    Boaz, overcome with weariness, by torchlight
    made his pallet on the threshing floor
    where all day he had worked, and now he slept
    among the bushels of threshed wheat.

    The old man owned wheatfields and barley,
    and though he was rich, he was still fair-minded.
    No filth soured the sweetness of his well.
    No hot iron of torture whitened in his forge.

    His beard was silver as a brook in April.
    He bound sheaves without the strain of hate
    or envy. He saw gleaners pass, and said,
    Let handfuls of the fat ears fall to them.

    The man's mind, clear of untoward feeling,
    clothed itself in candor. He wore clean robes.
    His heaped granaries spilled over always
    toward the poor, no less than public fountains.

    Boaz did well by his workers and by kinsmen.
    He was generous, and moderate. Women held him
    worthier than younger men, for youth is handsome,
    but to him in his old age came greatness.

    An old man, nearing his first source, may find
    the timelessness beyond times of trouble.
    And though fire burned in young men's eyes,
    to Ruth the eyes of Boaz shone clear light.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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