Written by
T S (Thomas Stearns) Eliot |
WEBSTER was much possessed by death
And saw the skull beneath the skin;
And breastless creatures under ground
Leaned backward with a lipless grin.
Daffodil bulbs instead of balls
Stared from the sockets of the eyes!
He knew that thought clings round dead limbs
Tightening its lusts and luxuries.
Donne, I suppose, was such another
Who found no substitute for sense,
To seize and clutch and penetrate;
Expert beyond experience,
He knew the anguish of the marrow
The ague of the skeleton;
No contact possible to flesh
Allayed the fever of the bone.
. . . . .
Grishkin is nice: her Russian eye
Is underlined for emphasis;
Uncorseted, her friendly bust
Gives promise of pneumatic bliss.
The couched Brazilian jaguar
Compels the scampering marmoset
With subtle effluence of cat;
Grishkin has a maisonette;
The sleek Brazilian jaguar
Does not in its arboreal gloom
Distil so rank a feline smell
As Grishkin in a drawing-room.
And even the Abstract Entities
Circumambulate her charm;
But our lot crawls between dry ribs
To keep our metaphysics warm.
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Written by
Herman Melville |
I
Where the wings of a sunny Dome expand
I saw a Banner in gladsome air-
Starry, like Berenice's Hair-
Afloat in broadened bravery there;
With undulating long-drawn flow,
As rolled Brazilian billows go
Voluminously o'er the Line.
The Land reposed in peace below;
The children in their glee
Were folded to the exulting heart
Of young Maternity.
II
Later, and it streamed in fight
When tempest mingled with the fray,
And over the spear-point of the shaft
I saw the ambiguous lightning play.
Valor with Valor strove, and died:
Fierce was Despair, and cruel was Pride;
And the lorn Mother speechless stood,
Pale at the fury of her brood.
III
Yet later, and the silk did wind
Her fair cold for;
Little availed the shining shroud,
Though ruddy in hue, to cheer or warm
A watcher looked upon her low, and said-
She sleeps, but sleeps, she is not dead.
But in that sleep contortion showed
The terror of the vision there-
A silent vision unavowed,
Revealing earth's foundation bare,
And Gorgon in her hidden place.
It was a thing of fear to see
So foul a dream upon so fair a face,
And the dreamer lying in that starry shroud.
IV
But from the trance she sudden broke-
The trance, or death into promoted life;
At her feet a shivered yoke,
And in her aspect turned to heaven
No trace of passion or of strife-
A clear calm look. It spake of pain,
But such as purifies from stain-
Sharp pangs that never come again-
And triumph repressed by knowledge meet,
Power delicate, and hope grown wise,
And youth matured for age's seat-
Law on her brow and empire in her eyes.
So she, with graver air and lifted flag;
While the shadow, chased by light,
Fled along the far-brawn height,
And left her on the crag.
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Written by
Emily Dickinson |
Some such Butterfly be seen
On Brazilian Pampas --
Just at noon -- no later -- Sweet --
Then -- the License closes --
Some such Spice -- express and pass --
Subject to Your Plucking --
As the Stars -- You knew last Night --
Foreigners -- This Morning --
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Written by
Emily Dickinson |
My first well Day -- since many ill --
I asked to go abroad,
And take the Sunshine in my hands,
And see the things in Pod --
A 'blossom just when I went in
To take my Chance with pain --
Uncertain if myself, or He,
Should prove the strongest One.
The Summer deepened, while we strove --
She put some flowers away --
And Redder cheeked Ones -- in their stead --
A fond -- illusive way --
To cheat Herself, it seemed she tried --
As if before a child
To fade -- Tomorrow -- Rainbows held
The Sepulchre, could hide.
She dealt a fashion to the Nut --
She tied the Hoods to Seeds --
She dropped bright scraps of Tint, about --
And left Brazilian Threads
On every shoulder that she met --
Then both her Hands of Haze
Put up -- to hide her parting Grace
From our unfitted eyes.
My loss, by sickness -- Was it Loss?
Or that Ethereal Gain
One earns by measuring the Grave --
Then -- measuring the Sun --
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