Some blind themselves, ’cause possibly they may
Be led by others a right way;
They build on sands, which if unmov’d they find,
‘T is but because there was no wind.
Less hard ‘t is, not to err ourselves, than know
If our forefathers err’d or no.
When we trust men concerning God, we then
Trust not God concerning men.
Visions and inspirations some expect
Their course here to direct;
Like senseless chemists their own wealth destroy,
Imaginary gold t’ enjoy.
So stars appear to drop to us from sky,
And gild the passage as they fly:
But when they fall, and meet th’opposing ground,
What but a sordid slime is found?
Sometimes their fancies they ‘bove reason set,
And fast, that they may dream of meat;
Sometimes ill spirits their sickly souls delude,
And bastard forms obtrude:
So Endor’s wretched sorceress, although
She Saul through his disguise did know,
Yet, when the devil comes up disguis’d, she cries,
” Behold! the Gods arise.”
In vain, alas! these outward hopes are try’d;
Reason within’s our only guide;
Reason, which (God be prais’d!) still walks, for all
Its old original fall:
And, since itself the boundless Godhead join’d
With a reasonable mind,
It plainly shows that mysteries divine
May with our reason join.
The holy book, like the eighth sphere, does shine
With thousand lights of truth divine:
So numberless the stars, that to the eye
It makes but all one galaxy.
Yet Reason must assist too; for, in seas
So vast and dangerous as these,
Our course by stars above we cannot know,
Without the compass too below.
Though Reason cannot through Faith’s mysteries see,
It sees that there and such they be;
Leads to heaven’s door, and there does humbly keep,
And there through chinks and key-holes peep;
Though it, like Moses, by a sad command,
Must not come in to th’ Holy Land,
Yet thither it infallibly does guide,
And from afar ‘t is all descry’d.
A few random poems:
- A man went before a strange God by Stephen Crane
- Ask Me No More poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Robert Burns: The Gard’ner Wi’ His Paidle:
- Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front by Wendell Berry
- Валерий Брюсов – Гимн Атону
- Robert Burns: The Jolly Beggars: A Cantata:
- The Tour by Sylvia Plath
- Владимир Маяковский – Раньше иностранцы шли в Россию как разбойники и воры… (Роста №105)
- Haiku: January by Monty Gilmer
- Владимир Вишневский – Из дневника читателя
- In Me, Past, Present, Future meet by Siegfried Sassoon
- Sigh No More by William Shakespeare
- STRANGE HAPPENINGS by Satish Verma
- Here War Is Simple by W H Auden
- The Leader by Roger McGough
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
- English Poetry. William Barnes. Third Collection. The Broken Heart. Уильям Барнс.
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. He Who Loves. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 56. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 66. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 103. The Mountain Spite. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 99. ’Twas One of Those Dreams. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 91. Oh, Ye Dead!. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 85. Oh For the Swords of Former Time. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 58. Farewell! – But Whenever You Welcome the Hour. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 44. She Is Far From the Land. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 26. Erin, Oh Erin. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Mark Akenside. The Pleasures of Imagination. Марк Эйкенсайд.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 22. Let Erin Remember the Days of Old. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Richard Hovey. The Old Pine. Ричард Хави.
- English Poetry. Richard Hovey. John Keats. Ричард Хави.
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. Haunted. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн.
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. Going for the Cows. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн.
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. Garden and Gardener. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн.
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. Forevermore. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн.
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. Finale. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн.
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
Abraham Cowley (1618 – 1667), the Royalist Poet.Poet and essayist Abraham Cowley was born in London, England, in 1618. He displayed early talent as a poet, publishing his first collection of poetry, Poetical Blossoms (1633), at the age of 15. Cowley studied at Cambridge University but was stripped of his Cambridge fellowship during the English Civil War and expelled for refusing to sign the Solemn League and Covenant of 1644. In turn, he accompanied Queen Henrietta Maria to France, where he spent 12 years in exile, serving as her secretary. During this time, Cowley completed The Mistress (1647). Arguably his most famous work, the collection exemplifies Cowley’s metaphysical style of love poetry. After the Restoration, Cowley returned to England, where he was reinstated as a Cambridge fellow and earned his MD before finally retiring to the English countryside. He is buried at Westminster Abbey alongside Geoffrey Chaucer and Edmund Spenser. Cowley is a wonderful poet and an outstanding representative of the English baroque.