Anniversaries

A poem by Aldous Huxley (1894 – 1963)

Once more the windless days are here,

Quiet of autumn, when the year

Halts and looks backward and draws breath

Before it plunges into death.

Silver of mist and gossamers,

Through-shine of noonday’s glassy gold,

Pale blue of skies, where nothing stirs

Save one blanched leaf, weary and old,

That over and over slowly falls

From the mute elm-trees, hanging on air

Like tattered flags along the walls

Of chapels deep in sunlit prayer.

Once more … Within its flawless glass

To-day reflects that other day,

When, under the bracken, on the grass,

We who were lovers happily lay

And hardly spoke, or framed a thought

That was not one with the calm hills

And crystal sky. Ourselves were nought,

Our gusty passions, our burning wills

Dissolved in boundlessness, and we

Were almost bodiless, almost free.

The wind has shattered silver and gold.

Night after night of sparkling cold,

Orion lifts his tangled feet

From where the tossing branches beat

In a fine surf against the sky.

So the trance ended, and we grew

Restless, we knew not how or why;

And there were sudden gusts that blew

Our dreaming banners into storm;

We wore the uncertain crumbling form

Of a brown swirl of windy leaves,

A phantom shape that stirs and heaves

Shuddering from earth, to fall again

With a dry whisper of withered rain.

Last, from the dead and shrunken days

We conjured spring, lighting the blaze

Of burnished tulips in the dark;

And from black frost we struck a spark

Of blue delight and fragrance new,

A little world of flowers and dew.

Winter for us was over and done:

The drought of fluttering leaves had grown

Emerald shining in the sun,

As light as glass, as firm as stone.

Real once more: for we had passed

Through passion into thought again;

Shaped our desires and made that fast

Which was before a cloudy pain;

Moulded the dimness, fixed, defined

In a fair statue, strong and free,

Twin bodies flaming into mind,

Poised on the brink of ecstasy.

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Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus

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Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh

Poems in English 

• Why England Is Conservative poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• Who Would Not Die For England! poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• “When the reaper lays the sickle by ” poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• When Runnels Began To Leap And Sing poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• ” When in the long–drawn avenues of Thought” poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• “What ails you, Ocean, that nor near nor far” poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• “`Were I a Poet, I would dwell” poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• Since We Must Die poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• Wardens Of The Wave poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To The Autumn Wind poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Robert Louis Stevenson poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Ireland poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To England poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Ellen Terry poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Beatrice Stuart–Wortley Ætat poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Arms! poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Arms! (II) poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Alfred Tennyson poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• “‘Tis because, though in dusky bower” poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• Time’s Weariness poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin

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Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees

Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

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