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:
- These Green-Going-to-Yellow by Marvin Bell
- Владимир Маяковский – Тёплое слово кое-каким порокам
- Гавриил Державин – Желание в горняя
- Nicotine poem – Ezra Pound poems
- Last Sonnet poem – John Keats poems
- Владимир Маяковский – В Советской России не может быть никакого царя… (Главполитпросвет №361)
- Not even a child by Miles
- houses.html
- The Story Of Our Lives by Mark Strand
- Paradise Lost: Book 01 poem – John Milton poems
- The Falling Of The Leaves by William Butler Yeats
- Stand-To: Good Friday Morning by Siegfried Sassoon
- From ‘Samson Agonistes’ i poem – John Milton poems
- Aftershock by William Marr
- Ametas And Thestylis Making Hay-Ropes poem – Andrew Marvell poems
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 Орлов – Летит корабль
- Владимир Орлов – Ковровые дорожки
- Владимир Орлов – Кому что снится?
- Владимир Орлов – Как Таппи научился лаять
- Владимир Орлов – Как появились ромашки
- Владимир Орлов – Где петушок носит гребешок
- Владимир Орлов – Дядя Миша на печи
- Владимир Орлов – Добрый день
- Владимир Орлов – Цветное молоко
- Владимир Орлов – Что нельзя купить
- Владимир Орлов – Белые стихи о черном пуделе
- Владимир Набоков – Забудешь ты меня, как эту ночь забудешь
- Владимир Набоков – Я на море гляжу из мраморного храма
- Владимир Набоков – Встреча
- Владимир Набоков – Воскресение мёртвых
- Владимир Набоков – Верба
- Владимир Набоков – Вдали от берега, в мерцании морском
- Владимир Набоков – В полнолунье, в гостиной пыльной и пышной
- Владимир Набоков – Ut pictura poesis
- Владимир Набоков – Ты многого, слишком ты многого хочешь
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.