3,956 Comments

  12. izzy-girl'7
    izzy-girl'7
    April 09, 03:36 Reply

    The Soul’s Errand
    By Sir Walter Raleigh (1554?–1618)
    GO, Soul, the Body’s guest,
    Upon a thankless arrant,
    Fear not to touch the best;
    The truth shall be thy warrant;
    Go, since I needs must die,
    5
    And give the World the lie!
    Say to the Court, it glows
    And shines like rotten wood;
    Say to the Church, it shows
    What’s good, and doth no good;
    10
    If Church and Court reply,
    Then give them both the lie.
    Tell Potentates, they live
    Acting by others’ action,
    Not loved unless they give,
    15
    Not strong but by a faction:
    If Potentates reply,
    Give Potentates the lie.
    Tell men of high condition
    That manage the Estate,
    20
    Their purpose is ambition,
    Their practice, only hate:
    And if they once reply,
    Then give them all the lie.
    Tell them that brave it most,
    25
    They beg for more by spending,
    Who, in their greatest cost,
    Like nothing but commending:
    And if they make reply,
    Then give them all the lie.
    30
    Tell Zeal it wants devotion;
    Tell Love it is but lust;
    Tell Time it is but motion;
    Tell Flesh it is but dust:
    And wish them not reply,
    35
    For thou must give the lie.
    Tell Age it daily wasteth;
    Tell Honour how it alters;
    Tell Beauty how she blasteth;
    Tell Favour how it falters;
    40
    And as they shall reply,
    Give every one the lie.
    Tell Wit how much it wrangles
    In tickle points of niceness;
    Tell Wisdom she entangles
    45
    Herself in overwiseness:
    And when they do reply,
    Straight give them both the lie.
    Tell Physic of her boldness;
    Tell Skill it is pretension;
    50
    Tell Charity of coldness;
    Tell Law it is contention:
    And as they do reply,
    So give them still the lie.
    Tell Fortune of her blindness;
    55
    Tell Nature of decay;
    Tell Friendship of unkindness;
    Tell Justice of delay:
    And if they will reply,
    Then give them all the lie.
    60
    Tell Arts they have no soundness,
    But vary by esteeming;
    Tell Schools they want profoundness,
    And stand so much on seeming.
    If Arts and Schools reply,
    65
    Give Arts and Schools the lie.
    Tell faith it’s fled the City;
    Tell how the Country erreth;
    Tell Manhood shakes off pity;
    Tell Virtue least preferrèth;
    70
    And if they do reply,
    Spare not to give the lie.
    So when thou hast, as I
    Commanded thee, done blabbing,—
    Although to give the lie
    75
    Deserves no less than stabbing,—
    Yet stab at thee that will,
    No stab my soul can kill!

  13. izzy-girl'7
    izzy-girl'7
    April 09, 03:32 Reply

    Daffodils
    I wandered lonely as a cloud
    That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
    When all at once I saw a crowd,
    A host, of golden daffodils;
    Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
    Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
    Continuous as the stars that shine
    And twinkle on the milky way,
    They stretched in never-ending line
    Along the margin of a bay:
    Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
    Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
    The waves beside them danced; but they
    Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
    A poet could not but be gay,
    In such a jocund company:
    I gazed–and gazed–but little thought
    What wealth the show to me had brought:
    For oft, when on my couch I lie
    In vacant or in pensive mood,
    They flash upon that inward eye
    Which is the bliss of solitude;
    And then my heart with pleasure fills,
    And dances with the daffodils.
    William Wordsworth

  14. izzy-girl'7
    izzy-girl'7
    April 09, 03:29 Reply

    It seemed that out of the battle I escaped
    Down some profound dull tunnel, long since
    scooped
    Through granites which Titanic wars had groined.
    Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
    Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
    Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and
    stared
    With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
    Lifting distressful hands as if to bless.
    And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall;
    By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.
    With a thousand fears that vision’s face was
    grained;
    Yet no blood reached there from the upper
    ground,
    And no guns thumped, or down the flues made
    moan.
    “Strange friend,” I said, “Here is no cause to
    mourn.”
    “None,” said the other, “Save the undone years,
    The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
    Was my life also; I went hunting wild
    After the wildest beauty in the world,
    Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
    But mocks the steady running of the hour,
    And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
    For by my glee might many men have laughed,
    And of my weeping something has been left,
    Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,
    The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
    Now men will go content with what we spoiled.
    Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
    They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress,
    None will break ranks, though nations trek from
    progress.
    Courage was mine, and I had mystery;
    Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery;
    To miss the march of this retreating world
    Into vain citadels that are not walled.
    Then, when much blood had clogged their
    chariot-wheels
    I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
    Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
    I would have poured my spirit without stint
    But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
    Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds
    were.
    I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
    I knew you in this dark; for so you frowned
    Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
    I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
    Let us sleep now. . . .”

    • izzy-girl'7
      izzy-girl'7
      April 09, 03:13

      Continuous as the stars that shine

    • izzy-girl'7
      izzy-girl'7
      April 09, 03:15

      ‘They stretch in never ending line’

    • izzy-girl'7
      izzy-girl'7
      April 09, 03:18

      ‘Along the margin of a bay’

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