The Ark
Hopeless Romantics
This is not about couples relationships..but about the beauty and serenity of many things in this life. This is the place to share anecdotes, stories, ideas, parody, goof on each other, and put to rest the poopooing of the idea of romance.
Well, We've Discussed a Few Paintings, Now How About a Poem?
NIGHT
by: Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)
Swiftly walk o'er the western wave,
Spirit of Night!
Out of the misty eastern cave,--
Where, all the long and lone daylight,
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear
Which make thee terrible and dear,--
Swift be thy flight!
Wrap thy form in a mantle grey,
Star-inwrought!
Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day;
Kiss her until she be wearied out.
Then wander o'er city and sea and land,
Touching all with thine opiate wand--
Come, long sought!
When I arose and saw the dawn
I sigh'd for thee;
When light rode high, and the dew was gone,
And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
And the weary Day turn'd to her rest,
Lingering like an unloved guest,
I sigh'd for thee.
Thy brother Death came, and cried,
'Wouldst thou me?'
Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,
Murmur'd like a noontide bee,
'Shall I nestle near thy side?
Wouldst thou me?'--and I replied,
'No, not thee!'
Death will come when thou art dead,
Soon, too soon--
Sleep will come when thou art fled.
Of neither would I ask the boon
I ask of thee, belovèd Night--
Swift be thine approaching flight,
Come soon, soon!
by: Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)
Swiftly walk o'er the western wave,
Spirit of Night!
Out of the misty eastern cave,--
Where, all the long and lone daylight,
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear
Which make thee terrible and dear,--
Swift be thy flight!
Wrap thy form in a mantle grey,
Star-inwrought!
Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day;
Kiss her until she be wearied out.
Then wander o'er city and sea and land,
Touching all with thine opiate wand--
Come, long sought!
When I arose and saw the dawn
I sigh'd for thee;
When light rode high, and the dew was gone,
And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
And the weary Day turn'd to her rest,
Lingering like an unloved guest,
I sigh'd for thee.
Thy brother Death came, and cried,
'Wouldst thou me?'
Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,
Murmur'd like a noontide bee,
'Shall I nestle near thy side?
Wouldst thou me?'--and I replied,
'No, not thee!'
Death will come when thou art dead,
Soon, too soon--
Sleep will come when thou art fled.
Of neither would I ask the boon
I ask of thee, belovèd Night--
Swift be thine approaching flight,
Come soon, soon!
Jim
Jul 22, 2009
BlancheNoE
scariest, most heart palpitation inducing dreams. I revisit them for weeks,...like a tongue to a sore tooth. Of course the good dreams can be wonderful, but the bad dreams make me think and drive me to overcome fear,...and they are exCITing,...and yes, I have read everything Stephen King ever wrote.
It's no surprise that Mary had such a cool husband. Ahhh, sweet night,...and brother Death ?,...I'm cool with him too,...as long as he keeps his distance for a while, okay, that just made me think of Ralph Stanley's version of "Oh Death",..." won't you spare me over for another year ".
Jul 22, 2009