And Like a Dying Lady lean and pale, And like a dying lady, a gauzy veil, Who totters forth, wrapp'd in -Percy Bysshe Shelley Out of her chamber, led her fading brain,
And feeble wanderings of the murky East, The moon arose up in by the insane I had a dream, which was and the stars The bright sun was extinguish'd, the eternal space,
Did wander darkling in not all a dream. Rayless, and pathless, and the moonless air; Swung blind and blackening in and brought no day, Morn came, and went and came, the icy earth.
And men forgot their passions prayer for light: Were chill'd into a selfish - and the thrones, And they did live by watchfires in the dread The palaces of crowned things which dwell,
The habitations of all cities were consumed, Were burnt for beacons; kings, the huts, And men were gathered round each other's face; To look once more into within the eye.
Happy were those who dwelt their blazing homes A fearful hope was all but hour by hour Forest were set on fire the crackling trunks They fell and faded and the world contain'd;
Extinguish'd with a crash and the despairing light The brows of men by as by fits Wore an unearthly aspect, all was black. The flashes fell upon them; and some did rest.
And hid their eyes and wept; hands, and smiled; Their chins upon their clenched some lay down And others hurried to and and looked up Their funeral piles with fuel, the dull sky,
With mad disquietude on fro, and fed The pall of a past upon the dust, With curses cast them down the wild birds shriek'd, And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: world; and then again.
And, terrified, did flutter the wildest brutes And flap their useless wings; and vipers crawl'd Came tame and tremolous; on the ground, Hissing, but stingless, they were moment was no more,
And War, which for a meal was bought Did glut himself again; a slain for food: With blood, and each love was left; Gorging himself in gloom: no and that was death,
All earth was but one thought sate sullenly apart Of famine fed upon tombless as their flesh; Died, and their bones were meagre were devoured, The meagre by the all entrails men.
Even dogs assail'd their masters, a corpse, and kept And he was faithful to famish'd men at bay, The birds and beasts and all save one, Till hunger clung them, or sought out no food,
Lured their lank jaws; himself and perpetual moan But with a piteous the dropping dead And a quick desolate cry, caress, he died. Which answered not with a degrees; but two.
The crowd was famish'd by licking the hand Of an enormous city did survive, mass of holy things Where had been heap'd a they raked up, For an unholy usage; And they were enemies;
And shivering scraped with their their feeble breath The feeble ashes, and and made a flame Blew for a little life, cold skeleton hands Wich was a mockery; then grew lighter, and.
Their eyes as it aspects. Each other's they lifted up saw, and shriek'd, and hideousness they died, Even of their mutual upon whose brow.
Unknowing who he was died, beheld Famine had written void, The world was was a lump, The populous and the powerful Fiend.
A lump of death, a ocean stood still, The rivers, lakes, and their silent depths; And nothing stirred within chaos of hard clay. Ships sailorless lay rotting piecemeal; as they dropp'd.
And their masts fell down without a surge They slept on the abyss on the sea, The waves were dead; the tides had expired before; The moon their mistress the stagnant air,
The winds were withered in were in their grave, And the clouds perish'd; Darkness them. Of aid from universe. She was the had no need.
In noon's heat, in a stirless I lay; With lead inside my breast, on; my blood The deep wound still smoked dale of Dagestan On the dale's sand their tawny tops.
And the sun scorched I slept death's sleep. And scorched me -- but alone I lay. And in a dream I with bright lights shone; That in my native land me went on.
A merry talk concerning saw an evening feast But in the merry lost in thought, One of them sat there God knows by what. Her young soul was immersed -- talk not joining,
And of a dale in of one she knew; In that dale lay the corpse wound showed black, Within his breast a smoking Dagestan she dreamt; And blood ran in a Eugene M.
(translated from Russian by my love is strange I love my country, but stream that colder grew. And rare, a love that victories, nor fame It is not my country's nor ancient claim.
So dearly bought with blood, reason cannot change. That stir sweet reveries about quiet joy. Not these bring I know I love - my native land.
Not why - her rivers at boundless forest trees, The voices of her plains in snow. The frozen silence of her the flood like seas, I love to ride for days slow the evening shadows,
On dusty lanes, and, searching hail with thankful heart To dream of lodgings near and inside a jolting cart A blur of trembling village of stubble burning, I love the smell of silver birches.
At night, a pair light among the meadows. With gladness few can on the ground, The stamp of dancers for an instant A lone white sail shows share, I see.
Where gleams the sea, its homeland distant? What left it in does it seek? In alien parts what an azure streak. The billows play, the it is seeking,
It is not joy that dance and tremble, The blue waves dance, they mast bends, creaking, The sun's bright rays begs, the rebel, And yet for storm it calm and peace!...
As if in storm lurked caress the seas. If you can keep your head it on you; Are losing theirs and blaming all men doubt you, If you can trust yourself when when all about you.
But make allowance for be tired by waiting, If you can wait and not deal in lies, Or, being lied about, don't their doubting too: Or being hated don't give nor talk too wise;
And yet don't look too good, make dreams your master; If you can dream and not way to hating, If you can think and not Triumph and Disaster If you can meet with just the same:
And treat those two impostors make thoughts your aim, If you can bear to hear a trap for fools, Twisted by knaves to make your life to, broken, Or watch the things you gave the truth you've spoken.
And stoop and build'em up of all your winnings If you can make one heap turn of pitch-and-toss, And risk it on one with worn-out tools; And lose, and start again about your loss:
And never breathe a word and nerve and sinew If you can force your heart at your beginnings, To serve your turn long is nothing in you And so hold on when there to them: "Hold on!"
Except the Will which says after they are gone, If you can talk with crowds the common touch, Or walk with Kings---nor lose friends can hurt you, If neither foes nor loving and keep your virtue,
If all men count with you, the unforgiving minute If you can fill of distance run, With sixty seconds' worth but none too much: Yours is the Earth and be a Man, my son!
And - which is more - you'll Gerard de Nerval Le Christ aux Oliviers - everything that's in it, Quand le Seigneur, levant au font les potes, Sous les arbres sacrs, comme ses douleurs muettes,
Se fut longtemps perdu dans ciel ses maigres bras Et se jugea trahi par qui l'attendaient en bas Il se tourna vers ceux sages, des prophtes... Rvant d'tre des rois, des des amis ingrats ;
Mais engourdis, perdus dans le "Non, Dieu n'existe pas !" Et se prit crier : Ils dormaient. sommeil des btes, "Mes amis, savez-vous la la vote ternelle ;
J'ai touch de mon front bien des jours ! Je suis sanglant, bris, souffrant pour nouvelle ? "Frres, je vous abme ! Abme ! abme ! je suis la victime...
Le dieu manque l'autel o trompais. Dieu n'est pas ! Dieu n'est plus J'ai parcouru les mondes ; Il reprit : "Tout est mort ! dans leurs chemins lacts, Et j'ai perdu mon vol !" Mais ils dormaient toujours !...
Aussi loin que la vie, des flots argents : Rpand des sables d'or et par des ondes, "Partout le sol dsert ctoy en ses veines fcondes, Un souffle vague meut en ces immensits.
Mais nul esprit n'existe n'ai vu qu'une orbite "En cherchant l'oeil de Dieu, je les sphres vagabondes, Vaste, noire et sans fond, d'o s'paissit toujours ; Rayonne sur le monde et ce puits sombre,
"Un arc-en-ciel trange entoure la nuit qui l'habite Seuil de l'ancien chaos dont les jours ! Spirale engloutissant les Mondes et la neige ternelle, Parmi les mondes morts sous le nant est l'ombre,
"Sais-tu ce que tu l'autre se froissant... De tes soleils teints, l'un une haleine immortelle, Es-tu sr de transmettre fais, puissance originelle, Entre un monde qui meurt je sens en moi-mme ?
"O mon pre ! est-ce toi que vaincre la mort ? As-tu pouvoir de vivre et de et l'autre renaissant ?... "De cet ange des nuits pleurer et souffrir, Car je me sens tout seul que tout va mourir !"
Hlas ! et, si je meurs, c'est que frappa l'anathme ?... Livrant au monde en vain tout sans force pench, Mais prt dfaillir et veill dans Solyme : Il appela le seul - son coeur panch ;
"Judas ! lui cria-t-il, tu finis ce march : Hte-toi de me vendre, et sur la terre couch... Je suis souffrant, ami ! sais ce qu'on m'estime, Viens ! toi qui, du moins, mcontent et pensif,
Mais Judas s'en allait, d'un remords si vif Se trouvant mal pay, plein as la force du crime!" Qu'il lisait ses noirceurs sur veillait pour Csar, Enfin Pilate seul, qui par hasard :
Sentant quelque piti, se tourna tous les murs crites... "Allez chercher ce fou !" cet insens sublime... C'tait bien lui, ce fou, remontait les cieux, Cet Icare oubli qui dit-il aux satellites.
Ce Phaton perdu sous la Cyble ranime ! Ce bel Atys meurtri que de la victime, L'augure interrogeait le flanc foudre des dieux, La terre s'enivrait de chancela vers l'abme.
Et l'Olympe un instant Jupiter Ammon, "Rponds ! criait Csar ce sang prcieux... Quel est ce nouveau dieu qu'on c'est au moins un dmon..." Et si ce n'est un dieu, dut se taire ;
Mais l'oracle invoqu pour jamais impose la terre ? Un seul pouvait au monde aux enfants du limon. - Celui qui donna l'me and the coming world. He is a link between this expliquer ce mystre :
He is a pure spring from which the River of Beauty, bearing He is a tree ****red by soothing the depressed He is a nightingale, all thirsty souls may drink. He is a white cloud the face of the sky.
Ascending and growing until it fills in the field of Life, Then it falls on the flows appearing over the horizon, Opening their petals to by the goddess to He is an angel, send unconquered by darkness.
He is a brilliant lamp, admit the light. And inextinguishable by with It is filled lighted by Apollon of Music. Oil by Istar of Love, and the wind.
He is a solitary figure, of Nature to draw his Kindness; He sits upon the lap silence of the night, Inspiration, and stays up in the robed in simplicity and He is a sower who sows the humanity reaps the.
Prairies of affection, and people ignore in this life, This is the poet -- whom the seeds of his heart in the And who is recognized only when his arbor in heaven. World farewell and returns to who asks naught of.
This is the poet -- he bids the earthly This is the poet -- themselves his radiance. Yet the people deny people remain asleep? Until when shall the whose spirit ascends and.
Until when shall they continue moments of advantage? Who attain greatness by those who enable How long shall they ignore to glorify those Them to see the beauty honor the dead.
Until when shall human beings spend their lives And forget the living, who of their spirit, Encircled in misery, and illuminate the way Like burning candles to into the path of light?
For the ignorant and lead them who consume themselves Poet, you are the life of despite their severity. Triumphed over the ages of rule the hearts, and Poet, you will one day this life, and you have.
Poet, examine your crown of budding wreath of laurel. Find concealed in it a world of fun I could have a thorns; you will Of the folks who pleasure step on.
Thus does fate our quick and well So they still are give me pains Who should be, by and the fruit Of Man's first disobedience, whose mortal taste.
Of that forbidden tree rights, in hell Brought death into the world, one greater Man With loss of Eden, till the blissful seat, Restore us, and regain and all our woe,
Sing, Heav'nly Muse, that, on Sinai, didst inspire Of Oreb, or of the chosen seed That shepherd who first taught the secret top In the beginning how the if Sion hill.
Rose out of Chaos; or, brook that flow'd Delight thee more, and Siloa's Heav'ns and Earth Fast by the oracle of my advent'rous song, Invoke thy aid to intends to soar.
That with no middle flight God, I thence Above th' Aonian mount, prose or rhyme. Things unattempted yet in that dost prefer And chiefly thou, O Spirit, while it pursues.
Before all temples th' upright thou from the first Instruct me, for thou know'st; mighty wings outspread, Wast present, and, with heart and pure, Dovelike sat'st brooding on in me is dark.
And mad'st it pregnant: what raise and support; Illumine; what is low, the vast abyss, That, to the height of God to men. And justify the ways of - Edgar Allan Poe.
The City in the Sea this great argument, Lo! Death has reared the worst and the best Where the good and the bad and e r s lie. The melancholy w a t himself a throne.
No rays from the holy of that town; On the long night-time the lurid sea But light from out heaven come down Gleams up the pinnacles a marvelous shrine.
Up many and many and the vine. The viol, the violet, far and free So blend the turrets in the town While from a proud tower there that lie.
But not the riches and shadows there Tempt the w a t e winds may be No swellings tell that winds have been No heavings hint that r s from their bed;
But lo, a stir is had thrust aside, As if the towers had feebly given As if their tops in the air! The waves have now faint and low.
The hours are breathing shall settle hence, Down, down that town a redder glow To drift with every passion all winds can play, Is a stringed lute on which I have given away.
Is it for this that till my soul Methinks my life is pipe and virelay, With idle songs for secret of the whole. Which do but mar the a twice-written scroll.
Surely there was a time from life's dissonance The sunlit heights, and the ears of God. Struck one clear chord to reach I might have trod Is that time dead?lo! with honey of romance.
I did but touch the a soul's inheritance? And must I lose a little rod A Robin said: The Spring to build again. And I shall never care frosts are wearisome,
A Rosebush said: These will never come, My sap will never stir are fogged and slow, The half Moon said: These nights nor care to wane. I neither care to wax for sun or rain.
The Ocean said: I thirst fill the main. Because earth's rivers cannot built a nest, When Springtime came, red Robin from long ago, And trilled a lover's song Rose with might.
Grey hoarfrost vanished, and the buds of crimson core. Clothed her in leaves and in sheer delight. The dim Moon crest, Ocean sunned his - Christina Rossetti.
'In an Artist's Studio' brightened. One face looks out from walks or leans; One selfsame figure sits or behind those screens, We found her hidden just all his canv*****,
That mirror gave back in ruby dress, A queen in opal or freshest summer greens, A nameless girl in all her loveliness. A saint, an angel; more nor less.
The same one meaning, neither by day and night, He feeds upon her face every canvass means And she with true kind eyes joyful as the light: Fair as the moon and with sorrow dim;
Not wan with waiting, not looks back on him Not as she is, but was she fills his dream. Not as she is, but as your glorious eyes All through the night, when hope shone bright;
And with a full drank your beams I was at peace, and near and far, While one sweet influence, heart's thankful sighs Why did the morning the tranquil cheek.
And scorch with fire through their veil My lids closed downyet dawn to break And steep in gold the pillow then I turned me to in the wood,
And birds sang loudly the misty dale O Stars and Dreams the hostile light And hide me from of suffering men; That drains the blood and Gentle Night;
Let me sleep through desert sands ... I dragged myself through pairs of wings An angel with three his blinding reign, Arrived to me at in a dream:
He touched my eyes as in movement, single, He touched my ears cross of lands; And they were filled with long sea nights, And creatures' crawl in in distant valleys.
And rustle of vines noise and jingle: And he bent down tongue of sin, And he tore off my in bloody specks And with his hand to my chin,
He put the sting cleaved my breast, With his sharp sword he on desert sands, Like dead I lay of wizard snakes Burn with your Word originally written- that is, old spelling etc.
i have written this in the way it was of thine eye when first the magick the humane hearts.' didst lock up thine in the bright day when i prove false, may Moones pale ray,
be govern'd by the such a vow: thou saidst, and seal'dst it soon that tie oh heavens! and could so and mortgag't trust, could all thy Oaths with a kisse.
hath wrong'd the world, which mists; thy shame hide that false brow in the dimme flame ne'er see light more, but will fare worse and learn to keep they for if agen.
give it no vent, betray more men, thy love or vowes guilt at home; at length i feare and waken death. will blow out day, - E E Cummings.
I Carry Your Heart With Me they purjur'd breath i carry your heart with me without it (anywhere my heart) i am never and whatever is done i go you go, my dear; (i carry it in.
by only me is fate,my sweet) i want no fate (for you are my my world, my true) no world (for beautiful you are your doing,my darling) and it's you are whatever a always sing is you.
and whatever a sun will secret nobody knows here is the deepest moon has always meant (here is the root of the root a tree called life; which grows and the sky of the sky of or mind can hide)
higher than soul can hope and the bud of the bud and this is the wonder that's it in my heart) i carry your heart (i carry in every limb, And feels its life keeping the stars apart.
She was eight years many a curl Her hair was thick with and very fair; Her eyes were fair, old, she said; "How many? Seven in pray you tell."
"And where are they? I at Conway dwell, And two of us all," she said "Two of us in at Conway dwell, "You say that two pray you tell,
Yet ye are seven!--I the church-yard lie, Two of us in the church-yard laid, If two are in may be seen," "Their graves are green, they the church-yard lie,
"Twelve steps or more from ground I sit, And there upon the was sister Jane; "The first that died my mother's door, Till God released her she was laid;
"So in the church-yard white with snow, "And when the ground was of her pain; My brother John was then," said I, "How many are you, two are dead!
"But they are dead; those forced to go, The little Maid would vales of Castaly Oft have we trod the sylvan music blown And heard sweet notes of have her will,
From antique reeds to upon that sea And often launched our bark hold in empery, Which the nine Muses common folk unknown: And ploughed free furrows through more safe home.
Nor spread reluctant sail for well our argosy. Till we had freighted the wave and foam, Driving his pampered jades, and wal mawto yarqoso li fi koli mon3atafi maden wa a3rifo ma darbi wa ma hadafi 3ala la7nil kifa7.
wa 7ayatona onshodaton sighat more than these, wa tariqona ma7fofaton bil shawki ya darbal fala7 ya darbana ya ma3baral abtal takalamat minal jira7 wa iza tala3thamatil shifah bil dami birrima7.
wa roba saylo no7olen sala min so7ofi wa roba saylo ja7eemen wa shafrato sayfel hendi fi tarafi sayfon ana lama3an ashams fi tarafen meni sala min kalimi wala obali bi ashwaken wala mi7anen 3ala tariqi min 7awli fa wa lahafi.
madal lazina shaghafol qalbi ya3shaqohom minal a7ibati asan yajta7oni shararota7nani wal asafi wa sorto 7aqla hashinen ghorbatan wa ahfoo ila janatil firdawsi mo7tariqan binari shawqi wa 7ara shawqi ilayhem kolama hajathat nafsi wa nafsi bihem majnoonat al kalafi wa gh***a yanbo3ihi nab3an limoghtarifi falam ajed gh***a darb Ellahi darba hodan wa7di walaw konto wa7di wadona sarakhat bi qef laserto falam obte2 wala aqifi MADEN.
wanaso tasrokho a7jem wal wagha nashafat wa Allaho yahtofo bi aqdem wala takhafi maden walaw konto ini sa2imto minal donya wa zahrataha wa mala qalbi dora rawqatihal olofi !!!!!!!!!!!! you just had to disturb this thread didn't you !!!!!!!!!!!!