And you would murmur tender words, Forgiving me, because you were dead: Nor would you rise and hasten away, Though you have the will of wild birds, But know your hair was bound and wound About the stars and moon and sun. — W.B. Yeats, from “He Wishes His Beloved Were Dead,” The Wind Among… Continue reading W.B. Yeats
O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes, The poets labouring all their days To build a perfect beauty in rhyme Are overthrown by a woman’s gaze And by the unlabouring brood of the skies: And therefore my heart will bow, when dew Is dropping sleep, until God burn time, Before the unlabouring stars and you. — W.B. Yeats,… Continue reading W.B. Yeats
Softer than rainfall at twilight, Bringing the fields benediction And the hills quiet and greyness, Are my long thoughts of you. — Sappho, Selections: One Hundred Lyrics. Trans. Bliss Carman (1907)
Ephemera ‘Your eyes that once were never weary of mineAre bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids,Because our love is waning.’ And then she:‘Although our love is waning, let us standBy the long border of the lake once more,Together in that hour of gentlenessWhen the poor tired child, Passion, falls asleep:How far away the stars seem,… Continue reading W.B. Yeats
Love is an immoderate thingAnd can never be content — W.B. Yeats, from “Deirdre,” The Collected Works of W.B. Yeats Vol II: The Plays. (Scribner, November 27, 2001) Originally published 1934.
INDOORS the fire is kindled; Beechwood is piled on the hearthstone; Cold are the chattering oak-leaves; And the ponds frost-bitten. Softer than rainfall at twilight, Bringing the fields benediction And the hills quiet and greyness, Are my long thoughts of thee. How should thy friend fear the seasons? They only perish of winter Whom Love,… Continue reading Sappho
The White Birds I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea! We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee; And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky, Has awakened in our hearts, my… Continue reading W.B. Yeats
Teach me to hear mermaids singing… — John Donne, from “Song: Go and Catch a Star,” The Songs and Sonnets of John Donne. (Harvard University Press; New edition edition, April 20, 2009) Originally published 1633.
I THOUGHT of your beauty, and this arrow, Made out of a wild thought, is in my marrow. There’s no man may look upon her, no man, As when newly grown to be a woman, Tall and noble but with face and bosom Delicate in colour as apple blossom. This beauty’s kinder, yet for a… Continue reading W.B. Yeats
Softer than rainfall at twilight, Bringing the fields benediction And the hills quiet and greyness, Are my long thoughts of thee. — Sappho, from “LXVII: Indoors the fire is kindled,” Sappho: One Hundred Lyrics by Bliss Carmen (L.C. Page, 1904)