Another favorite of mine:
Her Definition
by Thomas Hardy
I LINGERED through the night to break of day,
Nor once did sleep extend a wing to me,
Intently busied with a vast array
Of epithets that should outfigure thee.
Full-featured terms - all fitless - hastened by,
And this sole speech remained: 'That maiden mine!'-
Debarred from description then did I
Perceive the indefinite phrase could yet define.
As common chests encasing wares of price
Are borne with tenderness through halls of state,
For what they cover, so the poor device
Of homely wording I could tolerate,
Knowing its unadornment held as freight
The sweetest image outside the Paradise.
This is one of my favorite poems by Ben Johnson so I wanted to share it with you:
I why i write not to love
(writen by Ben Johnson)
Some act of Love's bound to reherse,
I thought to bind him, in my verse:
Which when he felt, Away (quoth he)
Can Poets hope to fetter me?
It is enough, they once did get
Mars, and my Mother, in their net:
I weare not these my wings in vaine.
With which he fled me: and againe,
Into my rimes could ne're be got
By any art. Then wonder not,
That since, my numbers are so cold,
When Love is fled, and I grow old."
Dream Evil
By Azariel
Crawling through the room in darkness
leaning down my aching head
I am laying and I’m feeling
all the softness of my bed.
As my eyes are sealing gently
Darkness in my brain is spread
Suddenly I feel that someway
I am not alive, but dead.
I feel a chain my neck is squeezing
and all my head is in the net
Snakes are rolling all around me
And the skin against is wet.
And the web the cob is spitting
Coming over, big and fat
Grips my hands and grips my feet in
Leaving nothing else to get.
I am screaming like the Devil
But I know nobody hears
Thousand ants are coming closer
Lurking in my soundless ears.
And my eyes in endless sufferance
Try to drop a hundred tears
But my chest red tears’ throwing
Where the mighty sword did pierce.
And I’m willing to get out
But the chain crushes like fire
To the reptiles I am crying
To retreat but they get higher
Drops of pitch burning my hair
From the hand that holds the pyre
And a voice is roaring near
Screaming in my brain: ‘You Liar!’
Suddenly my eyes do open
Silence’s living in the night
I am shaking but ain’t seeing
Any reptiles in my sight
With my hand that almost quivers
I reach out the lamp to light
And I do it, than I notice
On my hand the sign of bite.
Was it dream or was it real?
What is happening to me?
Questions that desire answers
That I’ll never seem to see.
I dry the sweat off and still shaking
I do wonder if I’ll be
...Ever in her heart or wonder
If she’ll ever look at me?
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