Ella Cuthbert lived with her husband John, in an age of twinkling stars;
They had a little dog named Alfie, who loved riding in pretty, swift cars.
Alfie was loved by those who knew him, as red flowers charm adorers;
And he was the darling of their street, like rainbows, crossing borders.
The Cuthberts had many interests, and on lazy days they were content,
To rove summer streets with Alfie, wondering where blue violets went!
Friends do not go out of style, as the glittery, memory stars, flash lime.
......
The awful shadow of some unseen Power
Floats through unseen among us, -- visiting
This various world with as inconstant wing
As summer winds that creep from flower to flower, --
Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower,
It visits with inconstant glance
Each human heart and countenance;
Like hues and harmonies of evening, --
Like clouds in starlight widely spread, --
Like memory of music fled, --
......
Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying,
Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee -
Both were mine! Life went a-maying
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,
When I was young!
When I was young? -Ah, woeful When!
Ah! for the change 'twixt Now and Then!
This breathing house not built with hands,
This body that does me grievous wrong,
O'er aery cliffs and glittering sands
......
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
......
FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded
A plaintful story from a sistering vale,
My spirits to attend this double voice accorded,
And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale;
Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale,
Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain,
Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain.
Upon her head a platted hive of straw,
Which fortified her visage from the sun,
......
peach is on the rose
since orange sun shines so bright
earth's bathed in warm light
redbirds are singing
of yellow saffron summer
near garden stunners
sapphires in the sky
vagrant clouds have gone missing
......
Elles glissent des branches
comme des souvenirs qu'on ne
retient plus.
Lentement,
elles tournent dans l'air froid,
dorées,brunes,
fatiguées du soleil d'hier.
Le vent ne leur parle pas,
il les emporte,
......
Ze glijden van de takken
als herinneringen die we niet meer vasthouden.
Langzaam
draaien ze in de koude lucht,
goud,bruin,
moe van de zon van gisteren.
De wind zegt niets tegen hen,
hij voert ze mee
naar nergens.
......
They slip from the branches
like memories no longer held.
Slowly,
they spin in the cold air,
golden,brown,
tired of yesterday's sun.
The wind says nothing to them,
it carries them
nowhere.
......
Everything is not always in the front of eyes ,
Deep in the earth many wonders lies
Diana sours are not just the animals wild,
These are the fossils still need to find
Layers are stack just like piles ,
Showing years that flies like clouds in the skies.
Rocks are not just the minerals that are bind ,
They holds the beauty unwind
Rainbows are not just the bands in skies ,
Rocks holds them in the form of strikes.
......