Some great poetry from the archives

Remembrance

Emily Bronte

But, when the days of golden dreams had perished

And when even despair was powerless to destroy;

Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,

Strengthened and fed without the aid of joy.

The Mourning Bride

William Congreve

“Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, or hell a fury like a woman scorned. "

The clock of life is wound but once,

And no man hath the power

To say just when the clock will stop

At late or early hour.

Now only is the time thine own

To live and love and toil with a will;

Put no faith in tomorrow for the

Clock may then be still .

The nutbrown maid Henry Morley.

O’ Lord what is this worlds bliss

That changeth as the moon

My summers day in lusty may

Is darkened before the noon

I hear you say farewell

Nay, Nay we depart not so soon

Why say ye so? Whither will ye go?

Alas what have ye done

All my welfare to sorrow and care should change

If ye were gone

For in my mind of all mankind

I love but you alone.

Andrew Wyeth:

I think one’s Art goes as far and as deep as one’s love goes. I see no reason for painting but that If I have anything to offer it is my emotional contact with the place where I live and the people I do.

Every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. Mark Twain.

Rumi

Lover’s don’t finally meet somewhere

They’re in each other all along.

Pablo Neruda

I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:

I love you as one loves certain dark things, secretly between the shadow and the soul.

Despair, flows within me

I cannot bring myself to peace

Oh, for the sake of yearning

Let me be free of desperation's toil

The wind blows wickedly, my thoughts

Never lacking

Save me from myself

The never ending burdens

Weighing so heavy on my heart

That my shoulders begin to stoop

Crying silent bitterness in rivulets

Unable seemingly to cleanse my soul

I yearn for sovereignty

Of weak thoughts and heavy tread

By Ranier Maria Rilke

Be patient toward all that is unsolved
in your heart

Try to love the questions themselves

Do not seek the answers
Which cannot be given
because you would not be able to live them

And the point is, to live everything

Live the questions now

Perhaps you will then
gradually
without noticing it
live along some distant day

Into the answers.