Scenes Of The Mind

A poem by Aldous Huxley (1894 – 1963)

I have run where festival was loud

With drum and brass among the crowd

Of panic revellers, whose cries

Affront the quiet of the skies;

Whose dancing lights contract the deep

Infinity of night and sleep

To a narrow turmoil of troubled fire.

And I have found my heart’s desire

In beechen caverns that autumn fills

With the blue shadowiness of distant hills;

Whose luminous grey pillars bear

The stooping sky: calm is the air,

Nor any sound is heard to mar

That crystal silence–as from far,

Far off a man may see

The busy world all utterly

Hushed as an old memorial scene.

Long evenings I have sat and been

Strangely content, while in my hands

I held a wealth of coloured strands,

Shimmering plaits of silk and skeins

Of soft bright wool. Each colour drains

New life at the lamp’s round pool of gold;

Each sinks again when I withhold

The quickening radiance, to a wan

And shadowy oblivion

Of what it was. And in my mind

Beauty or sudden love has shined

And wakened colour in what was dead

And turned to gold the sullen lead

Of mean desires and everyday’s

Poor thoughts and customary ways.

Sometimes in lands where mountains throw

Their silent spell on all below,

Drawing a magic circle wide

About their feet on every side,

Robbed of all speech and thought and act,

I have seen God in the cataract.

In falling water and in flame,

Never at rest, yet still the same,

God shows himself. And I have known

The swift fire frozen into stone,

And water frozen changelessly

Into the death of gems. And I

Long sitting by the thunderous mill

Have seen the headlong wheel made still,

And in the silence that ensued

Have known the endless solitude

Of being dead and utterly nought.

Inhabitant of mine own thought,

I look abroad, and all I see

Is my creation, made for me:

Along my thread of life are pearled

The moments that make up the world.

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Poems in English 

• Robert Burns: The Farewell: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Stanzas On Naething: Extempore Epistle to Gavin Hamilton, Esq. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Lines Written On A Banknote: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Lines To Mr. John Kennedy: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Motto Prefixed To The Author’s First Publication: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Lines To An Old Sweetheart: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Lass O’ Ballochmyle: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epitaph On “Wee Johnie”: Hic Jacet wee Johnie. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epitaph For Gavin Hamilton, Esq.: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epitaph For Robert Aiken, Esq.: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: A Bard’s Epitaph: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Farewell To Eliza: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On A Scotch Bard, Gone To The West Indies: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Farewell To the Brethren of St. James’ Lodge, Tarbolton: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Versified Note To Dr. Mackenzie, Mauchline: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: A Dedication : To Gavin Hamilton, Esq. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: A Dream: Thoughts, words, and deeds, the Statute blames with reason; But surely Dreams were ne’er indicted Treason. On reading, in the public papers, the Laureate’s Ode, with the other parade of June 4th, 1786, the Author was no sooner dropt asleep, than he imagined himself transported to the Birth-day Levee: and, in his dreaming fancy, made the following Address: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Address Of Beelzebub: To the Right Honourable the Earl of Breadalbane, President of the Right Honourable and Honourable the Highland Society, which met on the 23rd of May last at the Shakespeare, Covent Garden, to concert ways and means to frustrate the designs of five hundred Highlanders, who, as the Society were informed by Mr. M’Kenzie of Applecross, were so audacious as to attempt an escape from their lawful lords and masters whose property they were, by emigrating from the lands of Mr. Macdonald of Glengary to the wilds of Canada, in search of that fantastic thing-Liberty. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epistle To A Young Friend: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: My Highland Lassie, O: by Robert Burns

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