Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicéan barks of yore,
That gently, o’er a perfumed sea,
The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy-Land!
– Edgar Allan Poe
It was many and many a year ago,In a kingdom by the sea,That a maiden there lived whom you may knowBy the name of Annabel Lee;And this maiden she lived with no other thoughtThan to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child,In this kingdom by the sea,But…
Thank Heaven! the crisis,The danger, is past,And the lingering illnessIs over at last—And the fever called “Living”Is conquered at last. Sadly, I knowI am shorn of my strength,And no muscle I moveAs I lie at full length—But no matter!—I feelI am better at length. And I rest so composedly,Now, in my bed,That any beholderMight fancy…
If you can keep your head when all about youAre losing theirs and blaming it on you,If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,But make allowance for their doubting too;If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,And…
Freedom from fear is the freedomI claim for you my motherland!Freedom from the burden of the ages, bending your head,breaking your back, blinding your eyes to the beckoningcall of the future;Freedom from the shackles of slumber wherewithyou fasten yourself in night’s stillness,mistrusting the star that speaks of truth’s adventurous paths;freedom from the anarchy of destinywhole…
Romance, who loves to nod and sing,With drowsy head and folded wing,Among the green leaves as they shakeFar down within some shadowy lake,To me a painted paroquetHath been- a most familiar bird-Taught me my alphabet to say-To lisp my very earliest wordWhile in the wild wood I did lie,A child- with a most knowing eye….
If it is not my portion to meet thee in this lifethen let me ever feel that I have missed thy sight——let me not forget for a moment,let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreamsand in my wakeful hours. As my days pass in the crowded market of this worldand my hands…