A Quiet Soul
by John Oldham (1653-1683)

Thy soul within such silent pomp did keep,
As if humanity were lull’d asleep;
So gentle was thy pilgrimage beneath,
      Time’s unheard feet scarce make less noise,
      Or the soft journey which a planet goes:
Life seem’d all calm as its last breath.
      A still tranquillity so hush’d thy breast,
            As if some Halcyon were its guest,
            And there had built her nest;
It hardly now enjoys a greater rest.

Views: 40

There Will Come Soft Rains
by Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum-trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Views: 35

Silence
by Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)

There are some qualities—some incorporate things,
      That have a double life, which thus is made
A type of that twin entity which springs
      From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade.
There is a two-fold Silence—sea and shore—
      Body and soul. One dwells in lonely places,
      Newly with grass o’ergrown; some solemn graces,
Some human memories and tearful lore,
Render him terrorless: his name’s “No More.”
He is the corporate Silence: dread him not!
      No power hath he of evil in himself;
But should some urgent fate (untimely lot!)
      Bring thee to meet his shadow (nameless elf,
That haunteth the lone regions where hath trod
No foot of man,) commend thyself to God!

Views: 26

Sweet and Low
by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

Sweet and low, sweet and low,
         Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,
         Wind of the western sea!
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dropping moon and blow,
         Blow him again to me;
While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
         Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother’s breast,
         Father will come to thee soon;
Father will come to his babe in the nest,
Silver sails all out of the west
         Under the silver moon:
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.

Views: 32

Dei gamle Fjelli
by Ivar Aasen (1813-1896)

Dei gamle Fjell i Syningom
er alltid eins aa sjaa,
med same gamle Bryningom
og same Toppom paa.
I Bygdom byggja Sveinarne,
og Huset stender laust;
men dei gamle Merkesteinarne
dei standa lika traust.

Paa Fjellom er det leikande
aa ganga til og fraa
og kring um Toppen reikande
so vidt um Land aa sjaa:
til Havet kring um Strenderna
med Skip som Fuglar smaa,
og til Fjelli kring um Grenderna
med tusund Bakkar blaa.

Der er so mange Hendingar
i Bygdom komne til;
me sjaa so mange Vendingar
alt paa eit litet Bil.
Dei hava snutt um Vollarne
og flutt og rudt og bygt;
men dei gode gamle Kollarne
dei standa lika trygt.

So stod dei gjenom Tiderna,
vel mange tusund Aar;
og Graset voks um Liderna,
og Lauvet kom kvar Vaar;
og Vinden tok um Topparne
og Vatnet tok um Fot;
men dei gilde gamle Kropparne
dei toko traust i mot.

Av Hav kom Sjomann sigande
og lengtad’ etter Land,
daa saag han Fjelli stigande
og kjendest ved si Strand.
Daa kom det Mod i Gutarne,
som saag sin Fødestad.
Ja dei gode gamle Nutarne
dei gjera Hugen glad.

Views: 120

The Maldive Shark
by Herman Melville (1819-1891)

About the Shark, phlegmatical one,
Pale sot of the Maldive sea,
The sleek little pilot-fish, azure and slim,
How alert in attendance be.
From his saw-pit of mouth, from his charnel of maw
They have nothing of harm to dread,
But liquidly glide on his ghastly flank
Or before his Gorgonian head;
Or lurk in the port of serrated teeth
In white triple tiers of glittering gates,
And there find a haven when peril’s abroad,
An asylum in jaws of the Fates!
They are friends; and friendly they guide him to prey,
Yet never partake of the treat—
Eyes and brains to the dotard lethargic and dull,
Pale ravener of horrible meat.

Views: 165