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I think they want to keep it separate, but I've never been a crossover artist for some reason.

quote by Reba McEntire
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The mother and the artist

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of wonderfully emollient freshness; every
unfurling instant of impregnably magnificent existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of spellbindingly undefeated innocence; every
unfurling instant of symbiotically pristine existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of timelessly unconquerable truth; every unfurling
instant of bounteously magnanimous existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unfathomably unfettered creativity; every
unfurling instant of timelessly burgeoning existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of royally triumphant resplendence; every
unfurling instant of unconquerably majestic existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of eternally exhilarating vivaciousness; every
unfurling instant of redolently insuperable existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbelievably ameliorating optimism; every
unfurling instant of marvelously benign existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of brilliantly liberated camaraderie; every
unfurling instant of iridescently inscrutable existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unshakably virgin righteousness; every
unfurling instant of beautifully untainted existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of uninhibitedly heavenly frolic; every unfurling
instant of tantalizingly sensuous existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of compassionately humanitarian friendship; every
unfurling instant of magically mitigating existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of miraculously everlasting freshness; every
unfurling instant of invincibly coalescing existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of pricelessly ubiquitous oneness; every unfurling

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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How on earth? ? ?

My money could separate her from you-make her legally mine; but how on earth could I extricate your infinite reflections from the whites of her eyes; which were the sole sublimation of her otherwise impoverished life?

My money could separate her from you-make her legally mine; but how on earth could I erase your infinite fronds of desire from her sensuous lips; which were the sole reason behind her every uninhibited smile?

My money could separate her from you- make her legally mine; but how on earth could I remove your infinite whispers of adventure from her intricate ears; which were the sole ounces of enlightenment in her otherwise hackneyed way?

My money could separate her from you- make her legally mine; but how on earth could I evaporate your infinite praises from her mellifluous voice; which were the sole pillars of strength in her otherwise devastated existence?

My money could separate her from you- make her legally mine; but how on earth could I abolish your infinite fantasies from her astoundingly evolving brain; which were the sole panacea of her otherwise slowly diminishing life?

My money could separate her from you- make her legally mine; but how on earth could I scrap your infinite infernos of yearning from her amiably resonating spine; which were the sole sensitivities in her otherwise robotically mundane existence?

My money could separate her from you-make her legally mine; but how on earth could I annihilate your infinite impressions of destiny from the insides of her blissfully tinkling palms; which were the sole glimmer of hope in the fabric of her otherwise inexplicably withering life?

My money could separate her from you- make her legally mine; but how on earth could I behead your infinite compassionate pecks from her unabashed ardent cheeks; which were her sole sensations to forever triumph; in the otherwise fading horizons of her existence?

My money could separate her from you- make her legally mine; but how on earth could I massacre your infinite epitomes of artistry from her wondrously wandering fingers; which were the sole insinuations of companionship in her otherwise obfuscated life?

My money could separate her from you- make her legally mine; but how on earth could I trounce your infinite shades of humanity from her insuperably celestial blood; which were the sole lanterns of friendship in her otherwise miserably betrayed existence?

My money could separate her from you- make her legally mine; but how on earth could I assassinate your infinite pillars of tenacity from her altruistically affable bones; which were the sole Sun of fearlessness in her otherwise despicably slavering life?

My money could separate her from you- make her legally mine; but how on earth could I vanquish your infinite spell-binding imageries from her innocuously pristine mind; which were the sole spots of untamed brilliance in her otherwise penuriously incarcerated existence?

My money could separate her from you- make her legally mine; but how on earth could I pulverize your infinite recesses of warmth from her voluptuous bosom; which were the sole flames of friendship in her otherwise treacherously obsolete life?

My money could separate her from you- make her legally mine; but how on earth could I lynch your infinite fragrances of optimism from her impregnably fiery nostrils; which were the sole heavens of victory in her otherwise subserviently defeated existence?

My money could separate her from you- make her legally mine; but how on earth could I extradite your infinite images of truth from her undaunted conscience; which were the sole harbingers of eternal bliss in her otherwise deliriously distorted life?

My money could separate her from you- make her legally mine; but how on earth could I exonerate your infinite impressions of solidarity from her impeccably unbridled soul; which were the sole skies of ultimate freedom in her otherwise gruesomely penalizing existence?

My money could separate her from you-make her legally mine; but how on earth could I slaughter your infinite droplets of healing moisture from her stupendously magnetic eyelashes; which were the sole mists of unexpected miracles in her otherwise deplorably traumatized life?

My money could separate her from you-make her legally mine; but how on earth could I eliminate your infinite ecstatically ever-pervading shadows from her passionate breath; which were the sole rainbows of untainted exhilaration in her otherwise disdainfully slithering existence?

And my money could separate her from you-make her legally mine; but how on earth could I terminate your infinite beats of immortal love from her thunderously throbbing heart; which were the sole rays of contentment in her otherwise fatally premature and truncated life…

©®copyright by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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One Reason To Believe

Lighting candles in the church of my choice, loving strangers in the dark
Looking for someone to give me what I lack
Searching for something 'till you showed me the gun in my back
I'm human and I need it, I must have my beliefs
I open myself to the love, yeah
And I love you 'cause you showed me a merciful release
I'm living this time and I know you gave me the reason
Chorus:
One reason (to believe), one reason (you're the one)
One reason (to believe), one reason (my baby)
One reason (it's all I need), one reason (to believe)
One reason (my baby), one reason
Trying to get faith from the eight fifty paperbacks
Hoping they'll show me the way (the way to what?)
Man in a crisis, a young girl in his bed
She's trying to help him when she tells him it's all in his head
I'm human and I need it, I must have my beliefs
I open myself to the love, yeah
I love you 'cause you showed me a merciful release
I'm living this time and I know you gave me the reason
chorus
I bow to the east or I kneel to the west, it's a matter of faith
I'm the only one who has to believe it
chorus
(Solo)
One reason, one reason, one reason, one reason
I bow to the east or I kneel to the west, it's a matter of faith
I'm the only one who has to believe it
One reason (to believe), one reason (you're the one)
One reason (one reason), one reason (my baby)
One reason (that's all I need), one reason (to believe)
One reason (to believe), one reason (just give me one)
One reason (one reason), one reason (to believe)
One reason (it's all I need), one reason (my baby)
One reason (my baby), one reason (my baby)
One reason (you are the reason), one reason
One reason (that's all I want), one reason (that's all I need)...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

song performed by Rick Springfield
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One Reason

Lighting candles in the church of my choice
Loving strangers in the dark
Looking for someone to give me what i lack
Searching for something 'til you showed me
The gun in my back
I'm human and i need it
And i must have my beliefs
I open myself to the love (yea)
I love you 'cause you showed me
A merciful release
I'm living this time and i know you gave
Me the reason
One reason (to believe), one reason (you're the one)
One reason (to believe), one reason (my baby)
One reason (it's all i need), one reason (to believe)
Trying to get faith from the $8.50 paperbacks
Hoping they'll show me the way (the way to what)
Man in a crisis, a young girl in his bed
She's trying to help him when she tells him
It's all in his head
I'm human and i need it
I must have my beliefs
I open myself to the love (yea)
I love you 'cause you showed me
A merciful release
I'm living this time and i know you gave
Me the reason
One reason (to believe), one reason (you're the one)
One reason (to believe), one reason (my baby)
One reason (it's all i need), one reason (to believe)
I bow to the east or i kneel to the west
It's a matter of faith
I'm the only one who has to believe it
One reason (to believe), one reason (you're the one)
One reason (to believe), one reason (my baby)
One reason (it's all i need), one reason (to believe)
I bow to the east or i kneel to the west
It's a matter of faith
I'm the only one who has to believe it
One reason (to believe), one reason (you're the one)
One reason (to believe), one reason (my baby)
One reason (it's all i need), one reason (to believe)

song performed by Rick Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lisbeth and the Artist

Lisbeth stands watching
The artist as he prepares
To sketch. Her elder sisters
Stand in shadows whispering.
Her younger sister plays
With her doll on the floor.
Their father said to do as
The artist instructed and
Don't misbehave or be rude.
The artist stares hard his
Dark eyes searching their
Every move and expression
And body gesture. The elder
Girls mutter in shadows
Their hands over their mouths
Their blue eyes like shallow
Pools. Ready? The artist
Asks putting charcoal to
Paper his fingers blackening.
Lisbeth says just as we are?
The artist nods. His grim
Features express do not disturb.
The youngest sister plays
Ignoring the artist her eyes set
On the game at hand. The girls
In shadow turn their profiles
Set to mystery their hands on
Their abdomens like guardians
Of virtue. Lisbeth wonders as
She watches the artist's stiff
Moustache and beard the slow
Movement of his mouth as he
Mouths words and stares hard.
The last artist employed some
Year before younger and less
Brutal in expression and manner
Had drawn them each in private
Rooms and set them down on couch
Or bed and kept their images inside
His head. He was dismissed and the
Drawings destroyed and nothing said.
Lisbeth had thought it just a game
Something done as lover might in
Private corners or lonely spots on
Quiet nights. The artist sketches.
His blackened fingers move and
Made their mark. Their images
Captured. The scene set. One sister
In the shadows yawns the other
Stares in still contempt. Lisbeth

[...] Read more

poem by Terry Collett
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I Love....

i love...
that's the reason i walk,
the reason i breathe.
the reason i grieve.
the reason i dance.
the reason i smile.
the reason i listen.
the reason i offer a hand.
the reason i see beauty.
the reason i see both darkness,
and light....
the reason i take chances.
the reason i keep going.
the reason i get angry.
the reason i forgive.
the reason i touch.
the reason i question.
the reason i believe.
the reason i am tolerant.
the reason i understand.
the reason i fall.
the reason i fly.
the reason i write...
the reason i am what i am!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Separate Ways

I wont apologize
The light shone from in your eyes
It isnt gone,
It will soon come back again.
Though we go our separate ways
Lookin for better days
Sharin our little boy,
Who grew from joy back then.
And its all because of that love we knew
That makes the world go round.
Separate ways, separate ways.
Separate ways, separate ways.
Me for me, you for you
Happiness is never through
Its only a change of plan
And that is nothing new.
As we go our separate ways.
Lookin for better days
Sharin our little boy,
Who grew from joy back then.
And its all because of that love we knew
That makes the world go round.
And its all because of the love we knew
It makes the world go round.
Separate ways, separate ways.
Separate ways, separate ways.

song performed by Neil Young
Added by Lucian Velea
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An Essay on Man: Epistle II

I.
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan;
The proper study of mankind is man.
Plac'd on this isthmus of a middle state,
A being darkly wise, and rudely great:
With too much knowledge for the sceptic side,
With too much weakness for the stoic's pride,
He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest;
In doubt to deem himself a god, or beast;
In doubt his mind or body to prefer;
Born but to die, and reas'ning but to err;
Alike in ignorance, his reason such,
Whether he thinks too little, or too much:
Chaos of thought and passion, all confus'd;
Still by himself abus'd, or disabus'd;
Created half to rise, and half to fall;
Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;
Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurl'd:
The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!

Go, wondrous creature! mount where science guides,
Go, measure earth, weigh air, and state the tides;
Instruct the planets in what orbs to run,
Correct old time, and regulate the sun;
Go, soar with Plato to th' empyreal sphere,
To the first good, first perfect, and first fair;
Or tread the mazy round his follow'rs trod,
And quitting sense call imitating God;
As Eastern priests in giddy circles run,
And turn their heads to imitate the sun.
Go, teach Eternal Wisdom how to rule—
Then drop into thyself, and be a fool!

Superior beings, when of late they saw
A mortal Man unfold all Nature's law,
Admir'd such wisdom in an earthly shape,
And showed a Newton as we shew an Ape.

Could he, whose rules the rapid comet bind,
Describe or fix one movement of his mind?
Who saw its fires here rise, and there descend,
Explain his own beginning, or his end?
Alas what wonder! Man's superior part
Uncheck'd may rise, and climb from art to art;
But when his own great work is but begun,
What Reason weaves, by Passion is undone.

Trace science then, with modesty thy guide;
First strip off all her equipage of pride;
Deduct what is but vanity, or dress,

[...] Read more

poem by Alexander Pope
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There Is A Needed Reason

There is a needed reason to keep your attention involved.
There is a needed reason to keep your attention involved.
A needed reason to keep your attention involved.
There is a needed reason!
A needed reason.

There is a...
Needed reason to keep your attention involved.
A needed reason to keep your attention involved.
There is a needed reason to keep your attention involved.
A needed reason.
A needed reason.

If your mind is not here,
It may be focused somewhere else.
If your mind is not on fear...
It poses threats,
To those...
Who want it for themselves.

And if its too clear...
Fear will disappear!

There is a needed reason to keep your attention involved.
There is a needed reason to keep your attention involved.
A needed reason to keep your attention involved.
A needed reason.
A needed reason.

If your mind is not here,
It may be focused somewhere else.
If your mind is not on fear...
It poses threats,
To those...
Who want it for themselves.

And if its too clear...
Fear will disappear!

There is a needed reason to keep your attention involved.
There is a needed reason to keep your attention involved.
A needed reason to keep your attention involved.
A needed reason.
A needed reason.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Farewell

_P_. Farewell to Europe, and at once farewell
To all the follies which in Europe dwell;
To Eastern India now, a richer clime,
Richer, alas! in everything but rhyme,
The Muses steer their course; and, fond of change,
At large, in other worlds, desire to range;
Resolved, at least, since they the fool must play,
To do it in a different place, and way.
_F_. What whim is this, what error of the brain,
What madness worse than in the dog-star's reign?
Why into foreign countries would you roam,
Are there not knaves and fools enough at home?
If satire be thy object--and thy lays
As yet have shown no talents fit for praise--
If satire be thy object, search all round,
Nor to thy purpose can one spot be found
Like England, where, to rampant vigour grown,
Vice chokes up every virtue; where, self-sown,
The seeds of folly shoot forth rank and bold,
And every seed brings forth a hundredfold.
_P_. No more of this--though Truth, (the more our shame,
The more our guilt) though Truth perhaps may claim,
And justify her part in this, yet here,
For the first time, e'en Truth offends my ear;
Declaim from morn to night, from night to morn,
Take up the theme anew, when day's new-born,
I hear, and hate--be England what she will,
With all her faults, she is my country still.
_F_. Thy country! and what then? Is that mere word
Against the voice of Reason to be heard?
Are prejudices, deep imbibed in youth,
To counteract, and make thee hate the truth?
'Tis sure the symptom of a narrow soul
To draw its grand attachment from the whole,
And take up with a part; men, not confined
Within such paltry limits, men design'd
Their nature to exalt, where'er they go,
Wherever waves can roll, and winds can blow,
Where'er the blessed sun, placed in the sky
To watch this subject world, can dart his eye,
Are still the same, and, prejudice outgrown,
Consider every country as their own;
At one grand view they take in Nature's plan,
Not more at home in England than Japan.
_P_. My good, grave Sir of Theory, whose wit,
Grasping at shadows, ne'er caught substance yet,
'Tis mighty easy o'er a glass of wine
On vain refinements vainly to refine,
To laugh at poverty in plenty's reign,
To boast of apathy when out of pain,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Paradise Lost: Book 09

No more of talk where God or Angel guest
With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd,
To sit indulgent, and with him partake
Rural repast; permitting him the while
Venial discourse unblam'd. I now must change
Those notes to tragick; foul distrust, and breach
Disloyal on the part of Man, revolt,
And disobedience: on the part of Heaven
Now alienated, distance and distaste,
Anger and just rebuke, and judgement given,
That brought into this world a world of woe,
Sin and her shadow Death, and Misery
Death's harbinger: Sad talk!yet argument
Not less but more heroick than the wrath
Of stern Achilles on his foe pursued
Thrice fugitive about Troy wall; or rage
Of Turnus for Lavinia disespous'd;
Or Neptune's ire, or Juno's, that so long
Perplexed the Greek, and Cytherea's son:

If answerable style I can obtain
Of my celestial patroness, who deigns
Her nightly visitation unimplor'd,
And dictates to me slumbering; or inspires
Easy my unpremeditated verse:
Since first this subject for heroick song
Pleas'd me long choosing, and beginning late;
Not sedulous by nature to indite
Wars, hitherto the only argument
Heroick deem'd chief mastery to dissect
With long and tedious havock fabled knights
In battles feign'd; the better fortitude
Of patience and heroick martyrdom
Unsung; or to describe races and games,
Or tilting furniture, imblazon'd shields,
Impresses quaint, caparisons and steeds,
Bases and tinsel trappings, gorgeous knights
At joust and tournament; then marshall'd feast
Serv'd up in hall with sewers and seneshals;
The skill of artifice or office mean,
Not that which justly gives heroick name
To person, or to poem. Me, of these
Nor skill'd nor studious, higher argument
Remains; sufficient of itself to raise
That name, unless an age too late, or cold
Climate, or years, damp my intended wing
Depress'd; and much they may, if all be mine,
Not hers, who brings it nightly to my ear.
The sun was sunk, and after him the star
Of Hesperus, whose office is to bring

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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The Ghost - Book IV

Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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A reason to live

A man's reason to live is his very reason to die. His reason to live is his reason to sacrifice by his reason to love. His reason to love is his reason to die. If he died it would be a great sacrifice by reason of his faith. Then that reason of faith is substantiated if that love is good. Therefore his faith is purposeful.

A dangerous man has no reason to live and therefore no reason to love as all is lost. If that man has no love he has no reason for faith and he has no reason of faith because there is no love. He will give up his life easily. Look at the ones who love you and you will have the reason to live. That reason to live is what makes you believe in life. Therefore by reason of love you have faith and by reason of faith you have life. - John 17: 3

poem by Talmadge Rogalla
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A reason to live

A man's reason to live is his very reason to die. His reason to live is his reason to sacrifice by his reason to love. His reason to love is his reason to die. If he died it would be a great sacrifice by reason of his faith. Then that reason of faith is substantiated if that love is good. Therefore his faith is purposeful.

A dangerous man has no reason to live and therefore no reason to love as all is lost. If that man has no love he has no reason for faith and he has no reason of faith because there is no love. He will give up his life easily. Look at the ones who love you and you will have the reason to live. That reason to live is what makes you believe in life. Therefore by reason of love you have faith and by reason of faith you have life. - John 17: 3

poem by Talmadge Beavan
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The Reason

(carly simon/danny kortchmar)
The reason I wouldnt kiss you last night
I wouldn;t kiss you cause I was afriad
That Id like you too much
And if I liked you too much
Id be afraid that Id give you a present
And if I gave you a gift,
You might give me a gift
And then Id be afraid...
That I wouldnt like it
The reason, theres always a reason
Behind the reason
When you look for a reason
A reason, I can give you a reason
And maybe youll think
Its a really good reason
But I come up with the reasons
You asked me if Id scratch your back
I wouldnt scratch it
cause I was afraid that Id twist your arm
And if I twisted your arm
Id be afraid that it would lead to passion
And if we got too drunk
We might fall out of the bunk
And then i;d be afriad
We would have a concussion
Chorus
Dont ever live with your real love
Stop before it starts
Real love will last much longer
Stay stronger
Living in your heart
Yeah, thats where it belongs, in your heart
The reason, theres always a reason
Behind the reason
When you look for the reason
The reason, I can give you a reason
And maybe youll think
Its a really good reason
But I come up with the reason
Ill never have another chance
At the parsons dance
(hes gonna spank me)
Gotta be an apple tree growing in the field
Gotta be at frankies house right now
Gotta be at dannys house deja
Gotta meet a holy man
Hell be in the valley when amelia tries to land
(with his shirt off)
I can never be in love, I can only be in heat

[...] Read more

song performed by Carly Simon
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Reasons

Many lives they come, many lives they go
Without reason
In my heart I know I cannot let go
Without reason
Little children dont you feel so sad
When you come home feeling lost and bad
You got a reason, oh you got a reason
Oh woman, I gave my heart to you
When I found out what youve been through
You got a reason, oh you got a reason
Many lives they come, many lives they go
Without a reason in your heart
How could you know?
In my heart I know I cannot let go
Without a reason in my heart
How could you know?
(I know)
When they find you crying sorrows tears
And its too late after all these years
You got a reason, gimme that reason
Its boys be strong and girls be weak
But children, careful how you speak
You got a reason, gimme that reason
Many lives they come, many lives they go
Without a reason in your heart
How could you know?
In my heart I know I cannot let go
Gotta reason in my heart and dont you know?
I believe in love
I believe in you baby
What about love?
Give it to me, you gotta give me a reason baby
Little children dont you feel so bad
When you come home feeling lost and sad
You gotta reason
Believe it in your heart and it will show

song performed by Culture Club
Added by Lucian Velea
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Eighth Book

ONE eve it happened when I sate alone,
Alone upon the terrace of my tower,
A book upon my knees, to counterfeit
The reading that I never read at all,
While Marian, in the garden down below,
Knelt by the fountain (I could just hear thrill
The drowsy silence of the exhausted day)
And peeled a new fig from that purple heap
In the grass beside her,–turning out the red
To feed her eager child, who sucked at it
With vehement lips across a gap of air
As he stood opposite, face and curls a-flame
With that last sun-ray, crying, 'give me, give,'
And stamping with imperious baby-feet,
(We're all born princes)–something startled me,–
The laugh of sad and innocent souls, that breaks
Abruptly, as if frightened at itself;
'Twas Marian laughed. I saw her glance above
In sudden shame that I should hear her laugh,
And straightway dropped my eyes upon my book,
And knew, the first time, 'twas Boccaccio's tales,
The Falcon's,–of the lover who for love
Destroyed the best that loved him. Some of us
Do it still, and then we sit and laugh no more.
Laugh you, sweet Marian! you've the right to laugh,
Since God himself is for you, and a child!
For me there's somewhat less,–and so, I sigh.

The heavens were making room to hold the night,
The sevenfold heavens unfolding all their gates
To let the stars out slowly (prophesied
In close-approaching advent, not discerned),
While still the cue-owls from the cypresses
Of the Poggio called and counted every pulse
Of the skyey palpitation. Gradually
The purple and transparent shadows slow
Had filled up the whole valley to the brim,
And flooded all the city, which you saw
As some drowned city in some enchanted sea,
Cut off from nature,–drawing you who gaze,
With passionate desire, to leap and plunge,
And find a sea-king with a voice of waves,
And treacherous soft eyes, and slippery locks
You cannot kiss but you shall bring away
Their salt upon your lips. The duomo-bell
Strikes ten, as if it struck ten fathoms down,
So deep; and fifty churches answer it
The same, with fifty various instances.
Some gaslights tremble along squares and streets
The Pitti's palace-front is drawn in fire:

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poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
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Book IV - Part 03 - The Senses And Mental Pictures

Bodies that strike the eyes, awaking sight.
From certain things flow odours evermore,
As cold from rivers, heat from sun, and spray
From waves of ocean, eater-out of walls
Around the coasts. Nor ever cease to flit
The varied voices, sounds athrough the air.
Then too there comes into the mouth at times
The wet of a salt taste, when by the sea
We roam about; and so, whene'er we watch
The wormword being mixed, its bitter stings.
To such degree from all things is each thing
Borne streamingly along, and sent about
To every region round; and Nature grants
Nor rest nor respite of the onward flow,
Since 'tis incessantly we feeling have,
And all the time are suffered to descry
And smell all things at hand, and hear them sound.
Besides, since shape examined by our hands
Within the dark is known to be the same
As that by eyes perceived within the light
And lustrous day, both touch and sight must be
By one like cause aroused. So, if we test
A square and get its stimulus on us
Within the dark, within the light what square
Can fall upon our sight, except a square
That images the things? Wherefore it seems
The source of seeing is in images,
Nor without these can anything be viewed.

Now these same films I name are borne about
And tossed and scattered into regions all.
But since we do perceive alone through eyes,
It follows hence that whitherso we turn
Our sight, all things do strike against it there
With form and hue. And just how far from us
Each thing may be away, the image yields
To us the power to see and chance to tell:
For when 'tis sent, at once it shoves ahead
And drives along the air that's in the space
Betwixt it and our eyes. And thus this air
All glides athrough our eyeballs, and, as 'twere,
Brushes athrough our pupils and thuswise
Passes across. Therefore it comes we see
How far from us each thing may be away,
And the more air there be that's driven before,
And too the longer be the brushing breeze
Against our eyes, the farther off removed
Each thing is seen to be: forsooth, this work
With mightily swift order all goes on,
So that upon one instant we may see

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poem by Lucretius
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The Door Of Humility

ENGLAND
We lead the blind by voice and hand,
And not by light they cannot see;
We are not framed to understand
The How and Why of such as He;

But natured only to rejoice
At every sound or sign of hope,
And, guided by the still small voice,
In patience through the darkness grope;

Until our finer sense expands,
And we exchange for holier sight
The earthly help of voice and hands,
And in His light behold the Light.

I

Let there be Light! The self-same Power
That out of formless dark and void
Endued with life's mysterious dower
Planet, and star, and asteroid;

That moved upon the waters' face,
And, breathing on them His intent,
Divided, and assigned their place
To, ocean, air, and firmament;

That bade the land appear, and bring
Forth herb and leaf, both fruit and flower,
Cattle that graze, and birds that sing,
Ordained the sunshine and the shower;

That, moulding man and woman, breathed
In them an active soul at birth
In His own image, and bequeathed
To them dominion over Earth;

That, by whatever is, decreed
His Will and Word shall be obeyed,
From loftiest star to lowliest seed;-
The worm and me He also made.

And when, for nuptials of the Spring
With Summer, on the vestal thorn
The bridal veil hung flowering,
A cry was heard, and I was born.

II

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poem by Alfred Austin
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Gotham - Book III

Can the fond mother from herself depart?
Can she forget the darling of her heart,
The little darling whom she bore and bred,
Nursed on her knees, and at her bosom fed;
To whom she seem'd her every thought to give,
And in whose life alone she seem'd to live?
Yes, from herself the mother may depart,
She may forget the darling of her heart,
The little darling whom she bore and bred,
Nursed on her knees, and at her bosom fed,
To whom she seem'd her every thought to give,
And in whose life alone she seem'd to live;
But I cannot forget, whilst life remains,
And pours her current through these swelling veins,
Whilst Memory offers up at Reason's shrine;
But I cannot forget that Gotham's mine.
Can the stern mother, than the brutes more wild,
From her disnatured breast tear her young child,
Flesh of her flesh, and of her bone the bone,
And dash the smiling babe against a stone?
Yes, the stern mother, than the brutes more wild,
From her disnatured breast may tear her child,
Flesh of her flesh, and of her bone the bone,
And dash the smiling babe against a stone;
But I, (forbid it, Heaven!) but I can ne'er
The love of Gotham from this bosom tear;
Can ne'er so far true royalty pervert
From its fair course, to do my people hurt.
With how much ease, with how much confidence--
As if, superior to each grosser sense,
Reason had only, in full power array'd,
To manifest her will, and be obey'd--
Men make resolves, and pass into decrees
The motions of the mind! with how much ease,
In such resolves, doth passion make a flaw,
And bring to nothing what was raised to law!
In empire young, scarce warm on Gotham's throne,
The dangers and the sweets of power unknown,
Pleased, though I scarce know why, like some young child,
Whose little senses each new toy turns wild,
How do I hold sweet dalliance with my crown,
And wanton with dominion, how lay down,
Without the sanction of a precedent,
Rules of most large and absolute extent;
Rules, which from sense of public virtue spring,
And all at once commence a Patriot King!
But, for the day of trial is at hand,
And the whole fortunes of a mighty land
Are staked on me, and all their weal or woe
Must from my good or evil conduct flow,

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poem by Charles Churchill
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