Spring Song by Herman Hesse 1877 |
Spring Song by Herman Hesse 1877The storm cries every night its great moist wing falters and sweepsin dreamy flight the plover falls;now nothing sleepsand through the land stirs new delightfor spring ...
Posted by BLACKROSE on Sun, 15 Apr 2007 02:53:00 PST |
What rage is this? |
What rage is this? What rage is this? What fervor of what kind?What power, what plague doth worry thus my mind?Within my bones to rankle is assignedwhat poison pleasent sweet?Lo see mine eyes swell wi...
Posted by BLACKROSE on Wed, 07 Feb 2007 10:16:00 PST |
Sonnet: The Token by John Donne |
Sonnet: The Token, by John DonneSend me some token, that my hope may liveor that my easeless thoughts may sleep and rest;send me some honey to make sweet my hivethat in passions I may hope the best.I ...
Posted by BLACKROSE on Tue, 06 Feb 2007 07:13:00 PST |
Oppertunity, by N Machiavelli |
Oppertunity by Nicolo Machiavelli'But who art thou, with curious beauty graced, oh woman, stamped with some bright heavenly seal?why go thy feet on wings and in such haste?'I am the maid whose secret ...
Posted by BLACKROSE on Sat, 03 Feb 2007 11:00:00 PST |
Death--E E Cummings |
Death, by EE CummingsWho's most afraid of death? Thouart of himutterly afraid, I love of thee(beloved) thisand truely I would benear when his scythe takes crisply the whimof thy smoothness and mark th...
Posted by BLACKROSE on Thu, 01 Feb 2007 08:49:00 PST |
Greek Incantation |
IncantationWhere are the bay leaves, Thestylis, and the charms? Fetch all, with fiery wood the cauldron crownLet glamour win me back my false lord's heart!Twelve days the wretch hath notcome nigh to m...
Posted by BLACKROSE on Fri, 26 Jan 2007 09:47:00 PST |
I am the Heart |
I am the Heart (by Alestaire Crowely)O Self Divine! O Living Lord of Me!Self shining flame! Begotton of beyond!Godhead immaculate! Swift tongue of fire!Kindled from that immeasureable lightthe boundle...
Posted by BLACKROSE on Mon, 22 Jan 2007 07:44:00 PST |
Ode on Meloncoly |
Ode on Meloncholy by KeatsNo, no go not to Lethe, neither twistWolf'sbane, tight rooted for its poisonous wine;Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kissedby nightshade, ruby grape of Prosperpine; Make n...
Posted by BLACKROSE on Sun, 21 Jan 2007 05:23:00 PST |
Sleep (french 1591) |
Ive kissed thee, sweet heart, in a dream at least, and though the core of love is in me stillthis joy that in my senses did softly thrillthe ardor of my longing hath appeasedand by this tender strife ...
Posted by BLACKROSE on Wed, 17 Jan 2007 05:28:00 PST |
Celestial Love |
No mortal thing enthralled these longing eyeswhen perfect peace in thy fair face I foundbut far within where all is holy groundmy soul felt love, her commrade of the skiesfor she was born with God in ...
Posted by BLACKROSE on Tue, 16 Jan 2007 11:08:00 PST |
