~ Art and Poems ~
Ancher
~ Said the West Wind ~
~ I love old earth! Why should I lift my wings,
My misty wings, so high above her breast
That flowers would shake no perfumes from their hearts,
And waters breathe no whispers to the shores?
I love deep places builded high with woods,
Deep, dusk, fern closed, and starred with nodding blooms,
Close watched by hills, green, garlanded and tall.
On hazy wings, all shot with mellow gold, I float,
I float thro' shadows clear as glass;
With perfumed feet I wander o'er the seas,
And touch white sails with gentle finger tips;
I blow the faithless butterfly against The rose red thorn,
and thus avenge the rose; I whisper low amid the solemn boughs,
And stir a leaf where not my loudest sigh
Could move the emerald branches from their calm,
Leaves, leaves, I love ye much, for ye and I
Do make sweet music over all the earth!
I dream by glassy ponds, and, lingering, kiss
The gold crowns of their lilies one by one,
As mothers kiss their babes who be asleep
On the clear gilding of their infant heads,
Lest if they kissed the dimple on the chin,
The rose flecks on the cheek or dewy lips,
The calm of sleep might feel the touch of love, And so be lost.
I steal before the rain, The longed for guest of summer;
as his fringe Of mist drifts slowly from the mountain peaks,
The flowers dance to my fairy pipe and fling
Rich odours on my wings, and voices cry,
"The dear West Wind is damp,
and rich with scent;
We shall have fruits and yellow sheaves for this."
At night I play amidst the silver mists,
And chase them on soft feet until they climb
And dance their gilded plumes against the stars;
At dawn the last round primrose star
I hide By wafting o'er her some small fleck of cloud,
And ere it passes comes the broad, bold Sun
And blots her from the azure of the sky,
As later, toward his noon,
he blots a drop Of pollen gilded dew from violet cup
Set bluely in the mosses of the wood ~
Isabella Valancy Crawford
Belsky
~The Secret Rose~
~ Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose,
Enfold me in my hour of hours;
where those
Who sought thee in the Holy Sepulchre,
Or in the wine-vat, dwell beyond the stir
And tumult of defeated dreams; and deep
Among pale eyelids, heavy with the sleep
Men have named beauty.
Thy great leaves enfold The ancient beards,
the helms of ruby and gold
Of the crowned Magi;
and the king whose eyes Saw the Pierced
Hands and Rood of elder rise
In Druid vapour and make the torches dim;
Till vain frenzy woke and he died;
and him Who met Fand walking among flaming dew
By a grey shore where the wind never blew,
And lost the world and Emer for a kiss;
And him who drove the gods out of their liss,
And till a hundred morns had flowered red Feasted,
and wept the barrows of his dead;
And the proud dreaming king who flung the crown
And sorrow away,
and calling bard and clown
Dwelt among wine-stained wanderers in deep woods;
And him who sold tillage, and house, and goods,
And sought through lands and islands numberless years,
Until he found, with laughter and with tears,
A woman of so shining loveliness
That men threshed corn at midnight by a tress,
A little stolen tress. I, too, await
The hour of thy great wind of love and hate.
When shall the stars be blown about the sky,
Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die?
Surely thine hour has come, thy great wind blows,
Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose ~
William Butler Yeats
Ancher
~ Spring ~
~ Come, my beloved; let us walk amidst the knolls,
For the snow is water, and Life is alive
from its Slumber and is roaming the hills and valleys.
Let us follow the footprints of Spring into the Distant fields,
and mount the hilltops to draw Inspiration
high above the cool green plains.
Dawn of Spring has unfolded her winter-kept garment
And placed it on the peach and citrus trees;
and They appear as brides in the ceremonial custom of the Night of Kedre. The sprigs of grapevine embrace each other like Sweethearts,
and the brooks burst out in dance Between the rocks,
repeating the song of joy;
And the flowers bud suddenly from the heart of Nature,
like foam from the rich heart of the sea.
Come, my beloved; let us drink the last of Winter's Tears
from the cupped lilies, and soothe our spirits
With the shower of notes from the birds,
and wander In exhilaration through the intoxicating breeze.
Let us sit by that rock, where violets hide;
let us Pursue their exchange of the sweetness of kisses ~
Kahlil Gibran
Benson
~ Summer ~
~ Let us go into the fields, my beloved,
for the Time of harvest approaches,
and the sun's eyes Are ripening the grain.
Let us tend the fruit of the earth,
as the Spirit nourishes the grains of Joy from the Seeds of Love,
sowed deep in our hearts.
Let us fill our bins with the products of Nature,
as life fills so abundantly the Domain of our hearts with her endless bounty.
Let us make the flowers our bed, and the Sky our blanket,
and rest our heads together Upon pillows of soft hay.
Let us relax after the day's toil, and listen
To the provoking murmur of the brook ~
Kahlil Gibran
Ancher
~ Under the harvest moon
we shall dance together
…even though we are an ocean apart ~
~ The Song of The Soul ~
~ In the depth of my soul there is A wordless song –
a song that lives In the seed of my heart.
It refuses to melt with ink on Parchment; it engulfs my affection
In a transparent cloak and flows, But not upon my lips.
How can I sigh it?
I fear it may Mingle with earthly ether;
To whom shall I sing it?
It dwells In the house of my soul, in fear of Harsh ears.
When I look into my inner eyes I see the shadow of its shadow;
When I touch my fingertips I feel its vibrations.
The deeds of my hands heed its Presence as a lake must reflect
The glittering stars; my tears Reveal it, as bright drops of dew
Reveal the secret of a withering rose.
It is a song composed by contemplation,
And published by silence,
And shunned by clamor,
And folded by truth,
And repeated by dreams,
And understood by love,
And hidden by awakening,
And sung by the soul.
It is the song of love;
What Cain or Esau could sing it?
It is more fragrant than jasmine; What voice could enslave it?
It is heartbound, as a virgin's secret;
What string could quiver it? Who dares unite the roar of the sea
And the singing of the nightingale?
Who dares compare the shrieking tempest To the sigh of an infant?
Who dares speak aloud the words Intended for the heart to speak?
What human dares sing in voice The song of God ~
Kahlil Gibran
Ancher
~ O Holy Spirit of the Hazel, hearken now:
Though shining suns and silver moons burn on the bough,
And though the fruit of stars by many myriads gleam,
Yet in the undergrowth below, still in thy dream,
Lighting the monstrous maze and labyrinthine gloom
Are many gem-winged flowers with gay and delicate bloom.
And in the shade, hearken, O Dreamer of the Tree,
One wild-rose blossom of thy spirit breathed on me
With lovely and still light: a little sister flower
To those that whitely on the tall moon-branches tower.
Lord of the Hazel, now, O hearken while I pray.
This wild-rose blossom of thy spirit fades away ~
George William Russel
~ Her lute hangs shadowed in the apple-tree
While flashing fingers weave the sweet-strung spell
Between its chords; and as the wild notes swell,
The sea-bird for those branches leaves the sea.
But to what sound her listening ear stoops she?
What nether-world gulf-whispers doth she hear,
In answering whispers from what planisphere,
Along the wind, along the estuary ~
Dante
Krøyer
~ She sinks into her spell: and when full soon
Her lips move and she soars into her song,
What creatures of the midmost main shall throng
In furrowed surf-clouds to the summoning rune:
Till he, the fated mariner, hears her cry,
And up her rock, bare-breasted, comes to die ~
Dante
Benson
~ I ask but one thing of you, only one,
That always you will be my dream of you;
That never shall I wake to find untrue
All this I have believed and rested on,
Forever vanished, like a vision gone
Out into the night. Alas, how few
There are who strike in us a chord we knew
Existed, but so seldom heard its tone
We tremble at the half-forgotten sound.
The world is full of rude awakenings
And heaven-born castles shattered to the ground,
Yet still our human longing vainly clings
To a belief in beauty through all wrongs.
O stay your hand, and leave my heart its songs ~
~ Amy Lowell ~
Potthast
~ Union ~
When two hearts unite
In love forevermore,
Joy resounds within our souls tonight.
Hand in Hand we glide together,
mi amor To Marry-ville and beyond
... Even' tide ebbs and flows by,
Waves of love surround us both
As morning draws nigh
... Side by side, my loved one;
Each day renewing our nuptial oath.
When two hearts unite,
Forever peace resides and Joy sings hymns of praise tonight
As our souls collide
In a sacred Bond ~
Unknown
Ancher
~ Defeat ~
~ Defeat, my Defeat, my solitude and my aloofness;
You are dearer to me than a thousand triumphs,
And sweeter to my heart than all world-glory.
Defeat, my Defeat, my self-knowledge and my defiance,
Through you I know that I am yet young and swift of foot
And not to be trapped by withering laurels.
And in you I have found aloneness
And the joy of being shunned and scorned.
Defeat, my Defeat, my shining sword and shield,
In your eyes I have read
That to be enthroned is to be enslaved,
and to be understood is to be leveled down,
And to be grasped is but to reach one's fullness
and like a ripe fruit to fall and be consumed.
Defeat, my Defeat, my bold companion,
You shall hear my songs and my cries an my silences,
And none but you shall speak to me of the beating of wings,
And urging of seas,
And of mountains that burn in the night,
And you alone shall climb my steep and rocky soul.
Defeat, my Defeat, my deathless courage,
You and I shall laugh together with the storm,
And together we shall dig graves for all that die in us,
And we shall stand in the sun with a will,
And we shall be dangerous ~
Kahlil Gibran
Niss
~ As I look outside I see the breeze
Caress the leaves from the trees
And carry them to all around
Gently laid upon the ground
I see the birds so high above
Their songs sing of our special love
And laid upon their soft sweet wing
Your love to me they gently bring
And as they start their graceful descent
Delivering a message that’s heaven sent
One thing I know and will hold so dear
When I see them fly
I will feel you near ~
~ Paul Marchant ~
Ancher
~The songs of the waves and the hymns of the streams
Are scattered, and the voices of the throngs reduced to silence;
And I can hear naught but the music of Eternity
In exact harmony with the spirit's desires.
I am cloaked in full whiteness;
I am in comfort;
I am in peace ~
Kahlil Gibran
Krøyer
~ Lines composed in a Wood
on a Windy Day ~
~ My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring
And carried aloft on the wings of the breeze;
For above and around me the wild wind is roaring,
Arousing to rapture the earth and the seas.
The long withered grass in the sunshine is glancing,
The bare trees are tossing their branches on high;
The dead leaves, beneath them, are merrily dancing,
The white clouds are scudding across the blue sky.
I wish I could see how the ocean is lashing
The foam of its billows to whirlwinds of spray;
I wish I could see how its proud waves are dashing,
And hear the wild roar of their thunder today ~
Curran
~ My soul is awakened ~
~ My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring,
And carried aloft on the wings of the breeze;
For, above, and around me, the wild wind is roaring
Arousing to rapture the earth and the seas.
The long withered grass in the sunshine is glancing,
The bare trees ae tossing their branches on high;
The dead leaves beneath them are merrily dancing,
The white clouds are scudding across the blue sky.
I wish I could see how the ocean is lashing
The foam of its billows to whirlwinds of spray,
I wish I could see how its proud waves are dashing
And hear the wild roar of their thunder today ~
Ancher
~ Night ~
~ I love the silent hour of night,
For blissful dreams may then arise,
Revealing to my charmed sight
What may not bless my waking eyes.
And then a voice may meet my ear,
That death has silenced long ago;
And hope and rapture may appear
Instead of solitude and woe.
Cold in the grave for years has lain
The form it was my bliss to see;
And only dreams can bring again,
The darling of my heart to me ~
Rowbotham
~ Memory ~
~ Brightly the sun of summer shone,
Green fields and waving woods upon,
And soft winds wandered by;
Above, a sky of purest blue,
Around, bright flowers of loveliest hue,
Allured the gazer's eye.
But what were all these charms to me,
When one sweet breath of memory
Came gently wafting by?
I closed my eyes against the day,
And called my willing soul away,
From earth, and air, and sky;
That I might simply fancy there
One little flowera primrose fair,
Just opening into sight;
As in the days of infancy,
An opening primrose seemed to me
A source of strange delight.
Sweet Memory! ever smile on me;
Nature's chief beauties spring from thee;
Oh, still thy tribute bring!
Still make the golden crocus shine
Among the flowers the most divine,
The glory of the spring.
Still in the wall-flower's fragrance dwell;
And hover round the slight blue bell,
My childhood's darling flower.
Smile on the little daisy still,
The buttercup's bright goblet fill
With all thy former power.
For ever hang thy dreamy spell
Round mountain star and heather bell,
And do not pass away
From sparkling frost, or wreathed snow,
And whisper when the wild winds blow,
Or rippling waters play.
Is childhood, then, so all divine?
Or Memory, is the glory thine,
That haloes thus the past?
Not all divine; its pangs of grief,
(Although, perchance, their stay be brief,)
Are bitter while they last.
Nor is the glory all thine own,
For on our earliest joys alone
That holy light is cast.
With such a ray, no spell of thine
Can make our later pleasures shine,
Though long ago they passed ~
Zorn
~ The Captive Dove~
~Poor restless dove, I pity thee;
And when I hear thy plaintive moan,
I mourn for thy captivity,
And in thy woes forget mine own.
To see thee stand prepared to fly,
And flap those useless wings of thine,
And gaze into the distant sky,
Would melt a harder heart than mine.
In vain-in vain! Thou canst not rise:
Thy prison roof confines thee there;
Its slender wires delude thine eyes,
And quench thy longings with despair.
Oh, thou wert made to wander free
In sunny mead and shady grove,
And, far beyond the rolling sea,
In distant climes, at will to rove!
Yet, hadst thou but one gentle mate
Thy little drooping heart to cheer,
And share with thee thy captive state,
Thou couldst be happy even there.
Yes, even there, if, listening by,
One faithful dear companion stood,
While gazing on her full bright eye,
Thou mightst forget thy native wood.
But thou, poor solitary dove,
Must make, unheard, thy joyless moan;
The heart, that Nature formed to love,
Must pine, neglected, and alone ~
Krøyer
~ There is a silence where hath been no sound,
There is a silence where no sound may be,
In the cold grave--under the deep deep sea,
Or in the wide desert where no life is found,
Which hath been mute, and still must sleep profound;
No voice is hushed--no life treads silently,
But clouds and cloudy shadows wander free,
That never spoke, over the idle ground:
But in green ruins, in the desolate walls
Of antique palaces, where Man hath been,
Thoughl the dun fox, or wild hyaena, calls,
And owls, that flit continually between,
Shriek to the echo, and the low winds moan,
There the true Silence is, self-conscious and alone ~
~ Wind To Thy Wings.
Light To Thy Path.
Dreams To Thy Heart ~
Unknown
Krøyer
~ It was but yesterday we met in a dream
You have sung to me in my aloneness
And I of your longings
Have built a tower in the sky
But now our sleep has fled
And our dream is over
And it is no longer dawn
The noontide is upon us
And our half waking has turned
To fuller day
And we must part
If in the twilight of memory
We should meet once more
We shall speak again together
And you shall sing to me
A deeper song
And if our hands should meet in another dream
We shall build
Another tower in the sky ~
Kahlil Gibran
Krøyer
~ The Wave of Bestoval ~
~ The Human Being, like a bird of the sea
Emerged from the ocean of the soul.
Earth is not a final place of rest
For a bird born from the sea.
No, we are pearls of that ocean; All of us live in it;
And if it weren't so, why would wave upon wave arrive?
This is the time of union, the time of eternal beauty.
It is the ocean of purity.
The wave of bestowal has come.
The roar of the sea is here.
The morning of happiness has dawned ~
Jalalludin Rumi
Zorn
~ Azure and Gold ~
April had covered the hills
With flickering yellows and reds,
The sparkle and coolness of snow
Was blown from the mountain beds.
Across a deep-sunken stream
The pink of blossoming trees,
And from windless appleblooms
The humming of many bees.
The air was of rose and gold
Arabesqued with the song of birds
Who, swinging unseen under leaves,
Made music more eager than words.
Of a sudden, aslant the road,
A brightness to dazzle and stun,
A glint of the bluest blue,
A flash from a sapphire sun.
Blue-birds so blue, 'twas a dream,
An impossible, unconceived hue,
The high sky of summer dropped down
Some rapturous ocean to woo.
Such a colour, such infinite light!
The heart of a fabulous gem,
Many-faceted, brilliant and rare.
Centre Stone of the earth's diadem!
Centre Stone of the Crown of the World,
"Sincerity" graved on your youth!
And your eyes hold the blue-bird flash,
The sapphire shaft, which is truth ~
~Amy Lowell ~
Krøyer
~ My soul is an enchanted boat,
Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float
Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing;
And thine doth like an angel sit
Beside a helm conducting it,
Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing.
It seems to float ever, forever,
Upon that many-winding river,
Between mountains, woods, abysses,
A paradise of wildernesses,
Till, like one in slumber bound,
Borne to the ocean,
I float down, around,
Into a sea profound of ever-spreading sound ~
Benson
~ Such souls
Whose sudden visitations daze the world
Vanish like lightning
But they leave behind
A voice that in the distance far away
Wakens the slumbering ages ~
Henry Taylor
Benson
~ As I look outside I see the breeze
Caress the leaves from the trees
And carry them to all around
Gently laid upon the ground
I see the birds so high above
Their songs sing of our special love
And laid upon their soft sweet wing
Your love to me they gently bring
And as they start their graceful descent
Delivering a message that’s heaven sent
One thing I know and will hold so dear
When I see them fly
I will feel you near ~
Paul Marchant
~ How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need,
by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,
—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!
—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death ~
Kahlil Gibran
~ The fragrance of an orchid
Wafting through the air,
Reminds me of another time,
And of a beauty rare.
The melodic strains of an orchestra
Sailing through the night,
Remind me of another time,
And of a lovely sight.
Associations such as these
Fill my thoughts with rhyme
And I can't help but long for
The poetry of another time.
A time when life made sense to me,
When love was everywhere;
When you and I would dance and dance
While your fragrance filled the air.
Such memories consume me,
And they constantly remind;
That you, my sweet, are in my heart
And forever on my mind ~
Sorolla
~The wind speaks not more sweetly
to the giant oaks
than to the least
of all the blades ~
Kahlil Gibran
Tarbell
~ To Measure You By Your Smallest Deed
Is To Reckon The Power Of Ocean
By The Frailty Of It`s Foam.
To Judge You By Your Failures
Is To Cast Blame Upon The Seasons
For Their Inconstancy ~
Kahlil Gibran
Zolan
Belsky
~ Farewell to thee!
but not farewell To all my fondest thoughts of thee:
Within my heart they still shall dwell;
And they shall cheer and comfort me.
O, beautiful, and full of grace!
If thou hadst never met mine eye,
I had not dreamed a living face
Could fancied charms so far outvie.
If I may ne'er behold again
That form and face so dear to me,
Nor hear thy voice, still would
I fain Preserve, for aye, their memory.
That voice, the magic of whose tone
Can wake an echo in my breast,
Creating feelings that, alone,
Can make my tranced spirit blest.
That laughing eye, whose sunny beam
My memory would not cherish less;
- And oh, that smile! whose joyous gleam
Nor mortal language can express.
Adieu, but let me cherish, still,
The hope with which I cannot part.
Contempt may wound, and coldness chill,
But still it lingers in my heart.
And who can tell but Heaven, at last,
May answer all my thousand prayers,
And bid the future pay the past
With joy for anguish, smiles for tears ~
Krøyer
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