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Há 15 horas · Text: “Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven” by William Butler Yeats. Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths. Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams ...
Há 2 dias · Emily Dickinson (2414 poems) 2. Madison Julius Cawein (1231 poems) 3. Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1136 poems) 4. William Wordsworth (1016 poems) 5. Robert Burns (986 poems) 6. Edgar Albert Guest (945 poems) 7. Thomas Moore (849 poems) 8. Robert Service (831 poems)
Há 1 dia · Delight in Art whose end is peace, In logic and in natural law. By sucking at the dugs of Greece. Your open hand but shows our loss, For he knew better how to live. Let Paudeens play at pitch and toss, Look up in the sun 's eye and give. What the exultant heart calls good. That some new day may breed the best.
16 de mai. de 2024 · Beautiful, one a gazelle. With a common wrong or right. The innocent and the beautiful. Run till all the sages know. Bid me strike a match and blow. The light of evening, Lissadell, Great windows open to the south, Two girls in silk kimonos, both Beautiful, one a gazelle. But a raving autumn shears Blossom.
15 de mai. de 2024 · When all those rooms and passages are gone, When nettles wave upon a shapeless mound. And saplings root among the broken stone, And dedicate-eyes bent upon the ground, Back turned upon the brightness of the sun. And all the sensuality of the shade -. A moment 's memory to that laurelled head. William Butler Yeats. Rate:
16 de mai. de 2024 · And the moon spun round like a top, And the nearest kin of the moon, The creeping cat, looked up. Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon, For, wander and wail as he would, The pure cold light in the sky. Troubled his animal blood. Minnaloushe runs in the grass. Lifting his delicate feet.
Há 4 dias · Set all your mind upon the steep ascent, Upon the broken, crumbling battlement, Upon the breathless starlit air, “Upon the star that marks the hidden pole; Fix every wandering thought upon. That quarter where all thought is done: Who can distinguish darkness from the soul. My Self. The consecretes blade upon my knees.
