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Há 5 dias · The Secret Rose. Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose, Enfold me in my hour of hours; where those. Who sought thee in the Holy Sepulchre, Or in the wine-vat, dwell beyond the stir. And tumult of defeated dreams; and deep. Among pale eyelids, heavy with the sleep. Men have named beauty.
Há 4 dias · The Sad Shepherd. There was a man whom Sorrow named his Friend, And he, of his high comrade Sorrow dreaming, Went walking with slow steps along the gleaming. And humming Sands, where windy surges wend: And he called loudly to the stars to bend. From their pale thrones and comfort him, but they. Among themselves laugh on and sing alway:
Há 3 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.
Há 3 dias · Leda And The Swan. A sudden blow: the great wings beating still. Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed. By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill, He holds her helpless breast upon his breast. How can those terrified vague fingers push. The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
Há 4 dias · The Harp Of Aengus. Edain came out of Midhir's hill, and lay. Beside young Aengus in his tower of glass, Where time is drowned in odour-laden winds. And Druid moons, and murmuring of boughs, And sleepy boughs, and boughs where apples made. Of opal and ruhy and pale chrysolite. Awake unsleeping fires; and wove seven strings,
Há 5 dias · 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 under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. William Butler Yeats. Rate:
