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Quotes about Silent Noon

Sarangadhara - Part II

The noon was far advanced; the monarch let
The tents, and sought were freshening to the eye
The forest trees a shady bower made
Wearied with morning's mirth, all nature sank to rest
And not the slightest stir was there, save where
The streamlet gurgled over the distant slope,
And butterflies, like the spirits of the wood, among
The foliage moved. And there he laid him down
Upon the grass, and wearied with chase
Soon sunk to sleep and dreamt.

"It was moonlight
And with his queen beloved, long through the park
He walked in converse sweet, till he reached
The summer house, and like a baby held
Her in his arms, a hideous shape came o'er her
And he dropped her in fright; and there was blood,
And broken limbs lay strewn upon the floor !
He woke in fright, and passing hastily
On to the tents, he cried to horse" and rode

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Matthew Arnold

Resignation

TO FAUSTA

_To die be given us, or attain!_
_Fierce work it were, to do again._
So pilgrims, bound for Mecca, pray'd
At burning noon; so warriors said,
Scarf'd with the cross, who watch'd the miles
Of dust which wreathed their struggling files
Down Lydian mountains; so, when snows
Round Alpine summits, eddying, rose,
The Goth, bound Rome-wards; so the Hun,
Crouch'd on his saddle, while the sun
Went lurid down o'er flooded plains
Through which the groaning Danube strains
To the drear Euxine;--so pray all,
Whom labours, self-ordain'd, enthrall;
Because they to themselves propose
On this side the all-common close
A goal which, gain'd, may give repose.
So pray they; and to stand again

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Matthew Arnold

The Strayed Reveller

Faster, faster,
O Circe, Goddess,
Let the wild, thronging train
The bright procession
Of eddying forms,
Sweep through my soul!

Thou standest, smiling
Down on me! thy right arm,
Lean'd up against the column there,
Props thy soft cheek;
Thy left holds, hanging loosely,
The deep cup, ivy-cinctured,
I held but now.

Is it, then, evening
So soon? I see, the night-dews,
Cluster'd in thick beads, dim
The agate brooch-stones
On thy white shoulder;

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Noonday Rest

Calmer than midnight's deepest hush
Is the sun-bright Summer nooning,
With its cloudy shadows seeking rest,
That fall on the hillside swooning.

Great Night with its solemn starry eyes,
Over Day's gate asks us whither
We go, what our password is,
To the camp beyond the river.

But sunny Noon with its sleepy smile
Ripples the grain field over,
Without a thought of the silent graves
That may lie beneath the clover.

Knee-deep the drowsy cattle stand
In the water's golden glimmer,
While berry bush and bramble spray
Along the hot wall shimmer.

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poem by from All Quiet along the Potomac and other poems (1879)Report problemRelated quotes
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William Blake

Tiriel

1

And Aged Tiriel. stood before the Gates of his beautiful palace
With Myratana. once the Queen of all the western plains
But now his eyes were darkned. & his wife fading in death
They stood before their once delightful palace. & thus the Voice
Of aged Tiriel. arose. that his sons might hear in their gates
Accursed race of Tiriel. behold your father
Come forth & look on her that bore you. come you accursed sons.
In my weak arms. I here have borne your dying mother
Come forth sons of the Curse come forth. see the death of Myratana
His sons ran from their gates. & saw their aged parents stand
And thus the eldest son of Tiriel raisd his mighty voice
Old man unworthy to be calld. the father of Tiriels race
For evry one of those thy wrinkles. each of those grey hairs
Are cruel as death. & as obdurate as the devouring pit
Why should thy sons care for thy curses thou accursed man
Were we not slaves till we rebeld. Who cares for Tiriels curse
His blessing was a cruel curse. His curse may be a blessing
He ceast the aged man raisd up his right hand to the heavens

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Loser Gone Wild

I dont mind the pain, or the jokers cold refrain
The days pass by so slowly, I count them all again
Silence of a basement, shades all closed at noon
Lie awake for fear of strangers
Darkness comes on slowly, twilight is the ecstasy
Like a candle burning bright, shadows dance until the night
Empty rooms and chilling smiles
They go on for miles and miles
Chorus: but in the evening when the sun goes down
Crawl from the shadows got to get into town
Where the music is playin all across the night
And every cloud disappears from sight
There goes a loser, another loser gone
There goes another, another whos alone
There goes a loser, another loser gone wild
I dont mind if violins dont play
I wont listen to them anyway
I dont care what people say
Some things just cant be arranged
Icy fingers touching you.

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Silent Night, All Day Long

Theres a pine tree in a window in a house on a hill
With a tree top angel sitting perfectly still
Shes watching the shoppers walk through the snow
With their arms full of treasures and hearts all aglow
Chorus:
We held hands and stared at the lights on the tree
As if christmas was invented for you and for me
When the angel on the treetop requested a song
We sang silent night all day long
Theres a family thats gathered in some living room
Dinner on the table thats been cooking since noon
Stockings on the mantle are hanging with care
While every body is saying a prayer
Repeat chorus
Theres a room out there somewhere with a woman in a chair
With memories of childhood still lingering there.
How pretty the paper, the lights and the snow.
How precious those memories of long long ago.
Repeat chorus
When the angel on the treetop requested a song.

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Second Book

TIMES followed one another. Came a morn
I stood upon the brink of twenty years,
And looked before and after, as I stood
Woman and artist,–either incomplete,
Both credulous of completion. There I held
The whole creation in my little cup,
And smiled with thirsty lips before I drank,
'Good health to you and me, sweet neighbour mine
And all these peoples.'
I was glad, that day;
The June was in me, with its multitudes
Of nightingales all singing in the dark,
And rosebuds reddening where the calyx split.
I felt so young, so strong, so sure of God!
So glad, I could not choose be very wise!
And, old at twenty, was inclined to pull
My childhood backward in a childish jest
To see the face of't once more, and farewell!
In which fantastic mood I bounded forth
At early morning,–would not wait so long

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poem by from Aurora Leigh (1856)Report problemRelated quotes
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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Third Book

'TO-DAY thou girdest up thy loins thyself,
And goest where thou wouldest: presently
Others shall gird thee,' said the Lord, 'to go
Where thou would'st not.' He spoke to Peter thus,
To signify the death which he should die
When crucified head downwards.
If He spoke
To Peter then, He speaks to us the same;
The word suits many different martyrdoms,
And signifies a multiform of death,
Although we scarcely die apostles, we,
And have mislaid the keys of heaven and earth.

For tis not in mere death that men die most;
And, after our first girding of the loins
In youth's fine linen and fair broidery,
To run up hill and meet the rising sun,
We are apt to sit tired, patient as a fool,
While others gird us with the violent bands
Of social figments, feints, and formalisms,

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poem by from Aurora Leigh (1856)Report problemRelated quotes
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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Fourth Book

THEY met still sooner. 'Twas a year from thence
When Lucy Gresham, the sick semptress girl,
Who sewed by Marian's chair so still and quick,
And leant her head upon the back to cough
More freely when, the mistress turning round,
The others took occasion to laugh out,–
Gave up a last. Among the workers, spoke
A bold girl with black eyebrows and red lips,–
'You know the news? Who's dying, do you think?
Our Lucy Gresham. I expected it
As little as Nell Hart's wedding. Blush not, Nell,
Thy curls be red enough without thy cheeks;
And, some day, there'll be found a man to dote
On red curls.–Lucy Gresham swooned last night,
Dropped sudden in the street while going home;
And now the baker says, who took her up
And laid her by her grandmother in bed,
He'll give her a week to die in. Pass the silk.
Let's hope he gave her a loaf too, within reach,
For otherwise they'll starve before they die,

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poem by from Aurora Leigh (1856)Report problemRelated quotes
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