One winter eve, at twilight, when the sound
Of sorrowful winds scarce troubled Nature’s rest,
As she lay sleeping, with her hair unbound,
Holding her grey robe to her shivering breast,
I enter’d through a low-arch’d oaken door,
Circled with curious sculpture; and I crept
With slow, hush’d footsteps, o’er the shadow’d floor,
Where organ notes in sudden silence slept;
Far down the aisle, where darkness seem’d to brood
With such wide-spreading wings, and where the sigh
Of murmur’d prayer scarce came,-until I stood
In the deep stillness of the Baptistry.
There, in the dim side-chapel, no bright glow
From jewelled windows on the wall was shed;
No sunbeams rested on the font below,
Or kiss’d those mighty arches overhead.
Soft lines and curves went upward, and were lost
In solemn shadow and in dreamy space;
Only the level floor was faintly crost
With glimmering brightness from the holy place.
And, as I listen’d, I heard music sweet
Trembling and swelling through the soundless air,
Threading dark aisles, as if an angel’s feet
Were bidden bring God’s message to me there.
Ah! and the echo of those anthem notes
Wanders and whispers in my heart for aye:
In all my life the mystic language floats,
Fitful and faint, as in my ears that day.
One whom we knew had enter’d into rest-
Calm on the pillow lay his hoary head;
And through that music spoke, in accents blest,
Our holy Mother’s voice, hallowing the dead,
Telling of perfect peace, of labours done,
Of long years’ sorrow turned to joy at last-
The quiet sleep, when battles all are won-
The hush of evening when the day is past.
I look’d upon the font, and mused of all
Its wondrous meaning, till my thoughts grew dim
And vast and shadowy as those columns tall;-
Morning of life for me-death’s night for him!
How fancy tried to span that awful space
Between the two-between the here and there!
To bridge the nave-up to that blessed Place
Where light and song stream’d on the chancel-stair!
Dim recollections drifted through my brain-
Echoing footfalls of past childish years,
When the baptismal robe had less of stain,
E’en though unwash’d by penitential tears.
I saw the gloomy shadows o’er my head,
And sigh’d to think how I had suffer’d loss;
I saw the soft light, and was comforted,-
I knew it shone straight from the chancel-cross.
A few more steps, and then I stood below
The towering minster coronet again;
Down on my face that pure and gentle glow
Fell, like a pitying kiss in time of pain.
Down to my feet it stream’d; a passage dim,
With hosts of phantom-shapes on either side,
It drifted through;-as songs of seraphim
Drift through our mourning hearts at Easter-tide.
Looking up then, I seem’d to see my life,-
A long, dim vista, where the rays descend-
Where light and darkness wage continual strife;
But only light-the full light-at the end.
A few random poems:
- Before They Were Mothers by Sappho
- Владимир Корнилов – Прямота
- Lines Written In The Highlands After A Visit To Burns’s Country poem – John Keats poems
- I just love you by Raj Arumugam
- Prayer, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s poem: Prière by T. Wignesan.
- Омар Хайям – О доколе ты по свету будешь кружить
- Elm by Sylvia Plath
- Омар Хайям – Не оплакивай, смертный, вчерашних потерь
- Robert Burns: Lines On The Author’s Death: Written With The Supposed View Of Being Handed To Rankine After The Poet’s Interment
- English Poetry. Percy Bysshe Shelley. Satan Broken Loose. Перси Биши Шелли. Тень Ада
- Early Risèn by William Barnes
- That Light by Paul Hostovsky
- Джон Мильтон – Псалом 1
- Николай Заболоцкий – Ходоки
- Жан де Лафонтен – Садовод и Помещик
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Владимир Маяковский – Рассказ про то, как узнал Фадей закон
- Владимир Маяковский – Рассказ одного об одной мечте
- Владимир Маяковский – Рассказ о Климе, купившем заем, и Прове, не подумавшем о счастье своем
- Владимир Маяковский – Расчистка пути (РОСТА)
- Владимир Маяковский – Раньше. Теперь
- Владимир Маяковский – Раньше офицера только рубить учили… (РОСТА №632)
- Владимир Маяковский – Раньше иностранцы шли в Россию как разбойники и воры… (Роста №105)
- Владимир Маяковский – Раньше были писатели белоручки… (Роста №52)
- Владимир Маяковский – Раньше буржуи о производстве думали… (РОСТА №792)
- Владимир Маяковский – Раек (РОСТА №8)
- Владимир Маяковский – Радуются ли империалисты-победители? (Главполитпросвет №335)
- Владимир Маяковский – Радоваться рано
- Владимир Маяковский – Работникам стиха и прозы, на лето едущим в колхозы
- Владимир Маяковский – Рабочий, ты читал СНК наказ?.. (Главполитпросвет №292)
- Владимир Маяковский – Рабочий! (РОСТА №735)
- Владимир Маяковский – Рабочий при капитализме работал из-под палки… (РОСТА №666)
- Владимир Маяковский – Рабочий, не смотри Антанте в рот… (РОСТА №173)
- Владимир Маяковский – Рабочий корреспондент
- Владимир Маяковский – Рабочий! Глупость беспартийную выкинь!.. (РОСТА)
- Владимир Маяковский – Рабочий, читай постановление СТО от 15 июня 1921 года (Главполитпросвет №222)
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
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.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
Ada Cambridge (1844 – 1926), also known as Ada Cross, was an English-born Australian author and poetess. She wrote more than 25 works of fiction, three volumes of poetry and two autobiographical works.