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Best Famous George William Russell Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous George William Russell poems. This is a select list of the best famous George William Russell poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous George William Russell poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of George William Russell poems.

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Written by George William Russell |


 My heart was heavy, for its trust had been 
Abused, its kindness answered with foul wrong; 
So, turning gloomily from my fellow-men, 
One summer Sabbath day I strolled among 
The green mounds of the village burial-place; 
Where, pondering how all human love and hate 
Find one sad level; and how, soon or late, 
Wronged and wrongdoer, each with meekened face, 
And cold hands folded over a still heart, 
Pass the green threshold of our common grave, 
Whither all footsteps tend, whence none depart, 
Awed for myself, and pitying my race, 
Our common sorrow, like a mighty wave, 
Swept all my pride away, and trembling I forgave!

Written by George William Russell |


 ONE thing in all things have I seen:
One thought has haunted earth and air:
Clangour and silence both have been
Its palace chambers.
Everywhere I saw the mystic vision flow And live in men and woods and streams, Until I could no longer know The dream of life from my own dreams.
Sometimes it rose like fire in me Within the depths of my own mind, And spreading to infinity, It took the voices of the wind: It scrawled the human mystery— Dim heraldry—on light and air; Wavering along the starry sea I saw the flying vision there.
Each fire that in God’s temple lit Burns fierce before the inner shrine, Dimmed as my fire grew near to it And darkened at the light of mine.
At last, at last, the meaning caught— The spirit wears its diadem; It shakes its wondrous plumes of thought And trails the stars along with them.

Written by George William Russell |

Hope in Failure

 THOUGH now thou hast failed and art fallen, despair not because of defeat,
Though lost for a while be thy heaven and weary of earth be thy feet,
For all will be beauty about thee hereafter through sorrowful years,
And lovely the dews for thy chilling and ruby thy heart-drip of tears.
The eyes that had gazed from afar on a beauty that blinded the eyes Shall call forth its image for ever, its shadow in alien skies.
The heart that had striven to beat in the heart of the Mighty too soon Shall still of that beating remember some errant and faltering tune.
For thou hast but fallen to gather the last of the secrets of power; The beauty that breathes in thy spirit shall shape of thy sorrow a flower, The pale bud of pity shall open the bloom of its tenderest rays, The heart of whose shining is bright with the light of the Ancient of Days.

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Written by George William Russell |


 OVER all the dream-built margin, flushed with grey and hoary light,
Glint the bubble planets tossing in the dead black sea of night.
Immemorial face, how many faces look from out thy skies, Now with ghostly eyes of wonder rimmed around with rainbow dyes: Now the secrets of the future trail along the silent spheres: Ah, how often have I followed filled with phantom hopes and fears, Where my star that rose dream-laden, moving to the mystic crown, On the yellow moon-rock foundered and my joy and dreams went down.
As a child with hands uplifted peering through the cloudless miles Bent the Mighty Mother o’er me shining all with eyes and smiles: “Come up hither, child, my darling”: waving to the habitations, Thrones, and starry kings around her, dark embattled planet nations.
There the mighty rose in greeting, as their child from exile turning Smiled upon the awful faces o’er the throne supernal burning.
As with sudden sweetness melting, shone the eyes, the hearts of home, Changed the vision, and the Mother vanished in the vasty dome.
So from marvel unto marvel turned the face I gazed upon, Till its fading majesty grew tender as a child at dawn, And the heaven of heavens departed and the visions passed away With the seraph of the darkness martyred in the fires of day.

Written by George William Russell |

The Well of All-Healing

 THERE’S a cure for sorrow in the well at Ballylee
 Where the scarlet cressets hang over the trembling pool:
And joyful winds are blowing from the Land of Youth to me,
 And the heart of the earth is full.
Many and many a sunbright maiden saw the enchanted land With star faces glimmer up from the druid wave: Many and many a pain of love was soothed by a faery hand Or lost in the love it gave.
When the quiet with a ring of pearl shall wed the earth, And the scarlet berries burn dark by the stars in the pool; Oh, it’s lost and deep I’ll be amid the Danaan mirth, While the heart of the earth is full.

Written by George William Russell |


 NOW when the spirit in us wakes and broods,
Filled with home yearnings, drowsily it flings
From its deep heart high dreams and mystic moods,
Mixed with the memory of the loved earth things:
Clothing the vast with a familiar face;
Reaching its right hand forth to greet the starry race.
Wondrously near and clear the great warm fires Stare from the blue; so shows the cottage light To the field labourer whose heart desires The old folk by the nook, the welcome bright From the house-wife long parted from at dawn— So the star villages in God’s great depths withdrawn.
Nearer to Thee, not by delusion led, Though there no house fires burn nor bright eyes gaze: We rise, but by the symbol charioted, Through loved things rising up to Love’s own ways: By these the soul unto the vast has wings And sets the seal celestial on all mortal things.

Written by George William Russell |

The Child of Destiny

 THIS is the hero-heart of the enchanted isle,
Whom now the twilight children tenderly enfold,
Pat with their pearly palms and crown with elfin gold,
While in the mountain’s breast his brothers watch and smile.
Who now of Dana’s host may guide these dancing feet? What bright immortal hides and through a child’s light breath Laughs an immortal joy—Angus of love and death Returned to make our hearts with dream and music beat? Or Lu leaves heavenly wars to free his ancient land; Not on the fiery steed maned with tumultuous flame As in the Fomor days the sunbright chieftain came, But in this dreaming boy, more subtle conquest planned.
Or does the Mother brood some deed of sacrifice? Her heart in his laid bare to hosts of wounding spears, Till love immortal melt the cruel eyes to tears, Or on his brow be set the heroes’ thorny prize.
See! as some shadows of a darker race draw near, How he compels their feet, with what a proud command! What is it waves and gleams? Is that a Silver Hand Whose light through delicate lifted fingers shines so clear? Night like a glowing seraph o’er the kingly boy Watches with ardent eyes from his own ancient home; And far away, rocking in living foam The three great waves leap up exulting in their joy, Remembering the past, the immemorial deeds The Danaan gods had wrought in guise of mortal men, Their elemental hearts madden with life again, And shaking foamy heads toss the great ocean steeds.

Written by George William Russell |


 TWILIGHT, a blossom grey in shadowy valleys dwells:
Under the radiant dark the deep blue-tinted bells
In quietness reïmage heaven within their blooms,
Sapphire and gold and mystery.
What strange perfumes, Out of what deeps arising, all the flower-bells fling, Unknowing the enchanted odorous song they sing! Oh, never was an eve so living yet: the wood Stirs not but breathes enraptured quietude.
Here in these shades the ancient knows itself, the soul, And out of slumber waking starts unto the goal.
What bright companions nod and go along with it! Out of the teeming dark what dusky creatures flit, That through the long leagues of the island night above Come by me, wandering, whispering, beseeching love; As in the twilight children gather close and press Nigh and more nigh with shadowy tenderness, Feeling they know not what, with noiseless footsteps glide Seeking familiar lips or hearts to dream beside.
O voices, I would go with you, with you, away, Facing once more the radiant gateways of the day; With you, with you, what memories arise, and nigh Trampling the crowded figures of the dawn go by Dread deities, the giant powers that warred on men Grow tender brothers and gay children once again; Fades every hate away before the Mother’s breast Where all the exiles of the heart return to rest.

Written by George William Russell |


 HE bent above: so still her breath
What air she breathed he could not say,
Whether in worlds of life or death:
So softly ebbed away, away,
The life that had been light to him,
So fled her beauty leaving dim
The emptying chambers of his heart
Thrilled only by the pang and smart,
The dull and throbbing agony
That suffers still, yet knows not why.
Love’s immortality so blind Dreams that all things with it conjoined Must share with it immortal day: But not of this—but not of this— The touch, the eyes, the laugh, the kiss, Fall from it and it goes its way.
So blind he wept above her clay, “I did not think that you could die.
Only some veil would cover you Our loving eyes could still pierce through; And see through dusky shadows still Move as of old your wild sweet will, Impatient every heart to win And flash its heavenly radiance in.
” Though all the worlds were sunk in rest The ruddy star within his breast Would croon its tale of ancient pain, Its sorrow that would never wane, Its memory of the days of yore Moulded in beauty evermore.
Ah, immortality so blind, To dream all things with it conjoined Must follow it from star to star And share with it immortal years.
The memory, yearning, grief, and tears, Fall from it and it goes afar.
He walked at night along the sands, He saw the stars dance overhead, He had no memory of the dead, But lifted up exultant hands To hail the future like a boy, The myriad paths his feet might press.
Unhaunted by old tenderness He felt an inner secret joy— A spirit of unfettered will Through light and darkness moving still Within the All to find its own, To be immortal and alone.

Written by George William Russell |


 AT dusk the window panes grew grey;
The wet world vanished in the gloom;
The dim and silver end of day
Scarce glimmered through the little room.
And all my sins were told; I said Such things to her who knew not sin— The sharp ache throbbing in my head, The fever running high within.
I touched with pain her purity; Sin’s darker sense I could not bring: My soul was black as night to me; To her I was a wounded thing.
I needed love no words could say; She drew me softly nigh her chair, My head upon her knees to lay, With cool hands that caressed my hair.
She sat with hands as if to bless, And looked with grave, ethereal eyes; Ensouled by ancient Quietness, A gentle priestess of the Wise.

Written by George William Russell |

In As Much …

 WHEN for love it was fain of
The wild heart was chidden,
When the white limbs were clothed
And the beauty was hidden;

For the scorn that was done to
The least of her graces,
The Mother veiled over
And hid from our faces

The high soul of nature,
The deep and the wonder,
Her towers up in heaven,
And the fairyland under.
The Mother then whispered, “The wrong done by thee To the least limb of beauty Was done unto me.

Written by George William Russell |


 THE HERO first thought it
To him ’twas a deed:
To those who retaught it,
A chain on their speed.
The fire that we kindled, A beacon by night, When darkness has dwindled Grows pale in the light.
For life has no glory Stays long in one dwelling, And time has no story That’s true twice in telling.
And only the teaching That never was spoken Is worthy thy reaching, The fountain unbroken.

Written by George William Russell |


 WHEN the soul sought refuge in the place of rest,
Overborne by strife and pain beyond control,
From some secret hollow, whisper soft-confessed,
 Came the legend of the soul.
Some bright one of old time laid his sceptre down So his heart might learn of sweet and bitter truth; Going forth bereft of beauty, throne, and crown, And the sweetness of his youth.
So the old appeal and fierce revolt we make Through the world’s hour dies within our primal will; And we justify the pain and hearts that break, And our lofty doom fulfil.

Written by George William Russell |


 WHO gave thee such a ruby flaming heart
And such a pure cold spirit? Side by side
I know these must eternally abide
In intimate war, and each to each impart
Life from its pain, in every joy a dart
To wound with grief or death the self allied.
Red life within the spirit crucified, The eyes eternal pity thee: thou art Fated with deathless powers at war to be, Not less the martyr of the world than he Whose thorn-crowned brow usurps the due of tears We would pay to thee, ever ruddy life, Whose passionate peace is still to be at strife, O’erthrown but in the unconflicting spheres.

Written by George William Russell |

A Woman's Voice

 HIS head within my bosom lay,
But yet his spirit slipped not through:
I only felt the burning clay
That withered for the cooling dew.
It was but pity when I spoke And called him to my heart for rest, And half a mother’s love that woke Feeling his head upon my breast: And half the lion’s tenderness To shield her cubs from hurt or death, Which, when the serried hunters press, Makes terrible her wounded breath.
But when the lips I breathed upon Asked for such love as equals claim— I looked where all the stars were gone Burned in the day’s immortal flame.
“Come thou like yon great dawn to me From darkness vanquished, battles done: Flame unto flame shall flow and be Within thy heart and mine as one.