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Poesie : in lingua inglese poesie > in lingua inglese

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Romance

Romance, who loves to nod and sing,
With drowsy head and folded wing,
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
To me a painted paroquet
Hath been- a most familiar bird-
Taught me my alphabet to say-
To lisp my very earliest word
While in the wild wood I did lie,
A child- with a most knowing eye.
Of late, eternal Condor years
So shake the very Heaven on high
With tumult as they thunder by,
I have no time for idle cares
Through gazing on the unquiet sky.
And when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings-
That little time with lyre and rhyme
To while away- forbidden things!
My heart would feel to be a crime
Unless it trembled with the strings.

Edgar Allan Poe

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Pleasure

Then a hermit, who visited the city once a year, came
forth and said, "Speak to us of Pleasure."
And he answered, saying:
Pleasure is a freedom song,
But it is not freedom.
It is the blossoming of your desires,
But it is not their fruit.
It is a depth calling unto a height,
But it is not the deep nor the high.
It is the caged taking wing,
But it is not space encompassed.
Ay, in very truth, pleasure is a freedom-song.
And I fain would have you sing it with fullness of
heart; yet I would not have you lose your hearts in the
singing.
Some of your youth seek pleasure as if it were all, and
they are judged and rebuked.
I would not judge nor rebuke them. I would have them
seek.
For they shall find pleasure, but not her alone:
Seven are her sisters, and the least of them is more
beautiful than pleasure.
Have you not heard of the man who was digging in the
earth for roots and found a treasure?
And some of your elders remember pleasures with
regret like wrongs committed in drunkenness.
But regret is the beclouding of the mind and not its
chastisement.
They should remember their pleasures with gratitude,
as they would the harvest of a summer.
Yet if it comforts them to regret, let them be
comforted.
And there are among you those who are neither young
to seek nor old to remember;
And in their fear of seeking and remembering they
shun all pleasures, lest they neglect the spirit or offend
against it.
But even in their foregoing is their pleasure.
And thus they too find a treasure though they dig for
roots with quivering hands.
But tell me, who is he that can offend the spirit?
Shall the nightingale offend the stillness of the night, or
the firefly the stars?
And shall your flame or your smoke burden the wind?
Think you the spirit is a still pool which you can
trouble with a staff?
Oftentimes in denying yourself pleasure you do but
store the desire in the recesses of your being.
Who knows but that which seems omitted today, waits
for tomorrow?
Even your body knows its heritage and its rightful need
and will not be deceived.
And your body is the harp of your soul,
And it is yours to bring forth sweet music from it or
confused sounds.
And now you ask in your heart, "How shall we
distinguish that which is good in pleasure from that
which is not good?"
Go to your fields and your gardens, and you shall learn
that it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the
flower,
But it is also the pleasure of the flower to yield its
honey to the bee.
For to the bee a flower is a fountain of life,
And to the flower a bee is a messenger of love,
And to both, bee and flower, the giving and the
receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstasy.
People of Orphalese, be in your pleasures like the
flowers and the bees.

Kahlil Gibran

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Chamber Music III

At that hour when all things have repone,
O lonely watcher of the skies,
Do you hear the night wind and the sighs
Of harps playing unto Love to unclose
The pale gates of sunrise!

When all things repose do you alone
Awake to hear the sweet harps play
To Love before him on his way,
And the night wind answering in antiphon
Till night is overgone?

James Joyce

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Phyllis Diller's Housekeeping Hints Cleaning you house while your kids are still growing Is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing

Phyllis Diller

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My love is in a light attire (Chamber Music VII)

My love is in a light attire
Among the appletrees
Where the gay winds do most desire
To run in companies.

There, where the gay winds stay to woo
The young leaves as they pass,
My love goes slowly, bending to
Her shadow on the grass;

And where the sky's a pale` blue cup
Over the laughing land,
My love goes lightly, holding up
Her dress with dainty hand.

James Joyce

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