Thursday, December 26, 2013

The Indian Serenade by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Pocahontas, native indian, forest, nature

Pocahontas, native indian, forest, nature

I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright.
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Has led me -who knows how?
To thy chamber-window, Sweet!

The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream -
The champak odours fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart,
As I must die on thine,
O beloved as thou art!

Oh lift me from the grass!
I die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast;
Oh press it close to thine again,
Where it will break at last! 

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Merry Christmas

literature, lit, poem, poetry, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Christmas, Joy, love, fun, Christmas season, logo, happy, Season Greetings

It is the Christmas Day again
It is the birthday or our savior
Time to dress up and enjoy
Merry Christmas to You

Friday, December 20, 2013

To a Stranger. by Walt Whitman

The Terminal, Tom Hanks,  Catherine Zeta-Jones

Passing stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me, as of a dream,)

I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall’d as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me, were a boy with me, or a girl with me,

I ate with you, and slept with you—your body has become not yours only, nor left my body
mine only,

You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass—you take of my beard,
breast, hands, in return,

I am not to speak to you—I am to think of you when I sit alone, or wake at night alone,
I am to wait—I do not doubt I am to meet you again,
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

Friday, December 13, 2013

The Ragged Wood by William Butler Yeats

tree fantasy

O hurry where by water among the trees
The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh,
When they have but looked upon their images -
Would none had ever loved but you and I!

Or have you heard that sliding silver-shoed
Pale silver-proud queen-woman of the sky,
When the sun looked out of his golden hood? -
O that none ever loved but you and I!

O hurty to the ragged wood, for there
I will drive all those lovers out and cry -
O my share of the world, O yellow hair!
No one has ever loved but you and I.