With short, sharp violent lights made vivid,

To the southward far as the sight can roam,

Only the swirl of the surges livid,

The seas that climb and the surfs that comb,

Only the crag and the cliff to nor’ward,

And rocks receding, and reefs flung forward,

And waifs wreck’d seaward and wasted shoreward

On shallows sheeted with flaming foam.

A grim grey coast and a seaboard ghastly,

And shores trod seldom by feet of men —

Where the batter’d hull and the broken mast lie

They have lain embedded these long years ten.

Love! when we wander’d here together,

Hand in hand through the sparkling weather,

From the heights and hollows of fern and heather,

God surely loved us a little then.

Then skies were fairer and shores were firmer —

The blue sea over the bright sand roll’d;

Babble and prattle, and ripple and murmur,

Sheen of silver and glamour of gold —

And the sunset bath’d in the gulf to lend her

A garland of pinks and of purples tender,

A tinge of the sun-god’s rosy splendour,

A tithe of his glories manifold.

Man’s works are craven, cunning, and skillful

On earth where his tabernacles are;

But the sea is wanton, the sea is wilful,

And who shall mend her and who shall mar?

Shall we carve success or record disaster

On her bosom of heaving alabaster?

Will her purple pulse beat fainter or faster

For fallen sparrow or fallen star?

I would that with sleepy soft embraces

The sea would fold me — would find me rest

In luminous shades of her secret places,

In depths where her marvels are manifest,

So the earth beneath her should not discover

My hidden couch — nor the heaven above her —

As a strong love shielding a weary lover,

I would have her shield me with shining breast.

When light in the realms of space lay hidden,

When life was yet in the womb of time,

Ere flesh was fettered to fruits forbidden,

And souls were wedded to care and crime,

Was the course foreshaped for the future spirit —

A burden of folly, a void of merit —

That would fain the wisdom of stars inherit,

And cannot fathom the seas sublime?

Under the sea or the soil (what matter?

The sea and the soil are under the sun),

As in the former days in the latter

The sleeping or waking is known of none,

Surely the sleeper shall not awaken

To griefs forgotten or joys forsaken,

For the price of all things given and taken,

The sum of all things done and undone.

Shall we count offences or coin excuses,

Or weigh with scales the soul of a man,

Whom a strong hand binds and a sure hand looses,

Whose light is a spark and his life a span?

The seed he sowed or the soil he cumber’d,

The time he served or the space he slumber’d,

Will it profit a man when his days are number’d,

Or his deeds since the days of his life began?

One, glad because of the light, saith, “Shall not

The righteous judges of all the earth do right,

For behold the sparrows on the house-tops fall not

Save as seemeth to Him good in His sight?”

And this man’s joy shall have no abiding

Through lights departing and lives dividing,

He is soon as one in the darkness hiding,

One loving darkness rather than light.

A little season of love and laughter,

Of light and life, and pleasure and pain,

And a horror of outer darkness after,

And dust returneth to dust again;

Then the lesser life shall be as the greater,

And the lover of light shall join the hater,

And the one thing cometh sooner or later,

And no one knoweth the loss or gain.

Love of my life! we had lights in season —

Hard to part with, harder to keep —

We had strength to labour and souls to reason,

And seed to scatter and fruits to reap.

Though time estranges and fate disperses,

We have had our loves and loving mercies.

Though the gifts of the light in the end are curses,

Yet bides the gift of darkness — sleep!

See! girt with tempest and wing’d with thunder,

And clad with lightning and shod with sleet,

The strong winds treading the swift waves sunder

The flying rollers with frothy feet.

One gleam like a bloodshot swordblade swims on

The skyline, staining the green gulf crimson

A death stroke fiercely dealt by a dim sun

That strikes through his stormy winding sheet.

Oh, brave white horses! you gather and gallop,

The storm sprite loosens the gusty reins;

Now the stoutest ship were the frailest shallop

In your hollow backs, or your high arch’d manes.

I would ride as never a man has ridden

In your sleepy swirling surges hidden,

To gulfs foreshadow’d, through straits forbidden,

Where no light wearies and no love wanes.

Poetry Monster – Home

A few random 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 

• Otho The Great – Act II poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• Otho The Great – Act I poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• On Visiting The Tomb Of Burns poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• On Receiving A Laurel Crown From Leigh Hunt poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• On Receiving A Curious Shell poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• On Hearing The Bag-Pipe And Seeing “The Stranger” Played At Inverary poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• On Death poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• On A Dream poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• Ode. Written On The Blank Page Before Beaumont And Fletcher’s Tragi-Comedy ‘The Fair Maid Of The In poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• Ode To Apollo poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• O Blush Not So! poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• Lines Written In The Highlands After A Visit To Burns’s Country poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• Lines To Fanny poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• Lines Rhymed In A Letter From Oxford poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• Lines On Seeing A Lock Of Milton’s Hair poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• Lamia. Part II poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• Lamia. Part I poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• King Stephen poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• Isabella; Or, The Pot Of Basil: A Story From Boccaccio poem – John Keats poems by John Keats
• I Stood Tip-Toe Upon A Little Hill poem – John Keats poems by John Keats

More external links (open in a new tab):

Russian Commerce Agency

Dealing Monster

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.

 

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