Mine eyes are sick of this perpetual flow
Of people, & my heart of one sad thought.
Mine eyes are sick of this perpetual flow
Of people, & my heart of one sad thought.
Startled by his own thoughts, he looked around.
The secret Strength of things
Which governs thought, and to the infinite dome
Of Heaven is as a law, inhabits thee!
Teach us, sprite or bird,
What sweet thoughts are thine:
I have never heard
Praise of love or wine
That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.
And his own thoughts, along that rugged way Pursued, like raging hounds, their father and their prey.
If we reason, we would be understood if we imagine, we would that the airy children of our brain were born anew within another s if we feel, we would that another's nerves should vibrate to our own, that the beams of their eyes should kindle at once and mix and melt into our own, that lips of motionless ice should not reply to lips quivering and burning with the heart's best blood. This is Love.
Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
Strange thoughts beget strange deeds.
Be it not said, thought, understood --
Then it will be -- good night.
Our sweetest songs are those which tell of saddest thought.
Where is the love, beauty, and truth we seek
But in our mind?
And then a Vision on my brain was rolled.
There was no fair fiend near him, not a sight
Or sound of awe but in his own deep mind.
We look before and after, And pine for what is not; Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories