- Ce sujet contient 28 réponses, 1 participant et a été mis à jour pour la dernière fois par AAerendil Nubigena, le il y a 9 années et 11 mois.
- AuteurMessages
- 26 décembre 2014 à 15h42 #157171
The Little Girl Lost
In futurity
I prophetic see
That the earth from sleep
(Grave the sentence deep)Shall arise, and seek
For her Maker meek;
And the desert wild
Become a garden mild.In the southern clime,
Where the summer’s prime
Never fades away,
Lovely Lyca lay.Seven summers old
Lovely Lyca told.
She had wandered long,
Hearing wild birds’ song.‘Sweet sleep, come to me,
Underneath this tree;
Do father, mother, weep?
Where can Lyca sleep?‘Lost in desert wild
Is your little child.
How can Lyca sleep
If her mother weep?‘If her heart does ache,
Then let Lyca wake;
If my mother sleep,
Lyca shall not weep.‘Frowning, frowning night,
O’er this desert bright
Let thy moon arise,
While I close my eyes.’Sleeping Lyca lay,
While the beasts of prey,
Come from caverns deep,
Viewed the maid asleep.The kingly lion stood,
And the virgin viewed:
Then he gambolled round
O’er the hallowed ground.Leopards, tigers, play
Round her as she lay;
While the lion old
Bowed his mane of gold,And her bosom lick,
And upon her neck,
From his eyes of flame,
Ruby tears there came;While the lioness
Loosed her slender dress,
And naked they conveyed
To caves the sleeping maid.26 décembre 2014 à 15h43 #157172The Little Girl Found
All the night in woe
Lyca’s parents go
Over valleys deep,
While the deserts weep.Tired and woe-begone,
Hoarse with making moan,
Arm in arm, seven days
They traced the desert ways.Seven nights they sleep
Among shadows deep,
And dream they see their child
Starved in desert wild.Pale through pathless ways
The fancied image strays,
Famished, weeping, weak,
With hollow piteous shriek.Rising from unrest,
The trembling woman pressed
With feet of weary woe;
She could no further go.In his arms he bore
Her, armed with sorrow sore;
Till before their way
A couching lion lay.Turning back was vain:
Soon his heavy mane
Bore them to the ground,
Then he stalked around,Smelling to his prey;
But their fears allay
When he licks their hands,
And silent by them stands.They look upon his eyes,
Filled with deep surprise;
And wondering behold
A spirit armed in gold.On his head a crown,
On his shoulders down
Flowed his golden hair.
Gone was all their care.‘Follow me,’ he said;
‘Weep not for the maid;
In my palace deep,
Lyca lies asleep.’Then they followed
Where the vision led,
And saw their sleeping child
Among tigers wild.To this day they dwell
In a lonely dell,
Nor fear the wolvish howl
Nor the lion’s growl.26 décembre 2014 à 15h44 #157173The Little Boy Lost
‘Father! father! where are you going?
O do not walk so fast.
Speak, father, speak to your little boy,
Or else I shall be lost.’The night was dark, no father was there;
The child was wet with dew;
The mire was deep, and the child did weep,
And away the vapour flew.26 décembre 2014 à 15h44 #157174The Little Boy Found
The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
Led by the wand'ring light,
Began to cry; but God, ever nigh,
Appear'd like his father, in white.He kissed the child, and by the hand led,
And to his mother brought,
Who in sorrow pale, thro' the lonely dale,
Her little boy weeping sought.26 décembre 2014 à 15h45 #157175A Cradle Song
Sweet dreams, form a shade
O’er my lovely infant’s head;
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams
By happy, silent, moony beams.Sweet Sleep, with soft down
Weave thy brows an infant crown.
Sweet Sleep, Angel mild,
Hover o’er my happy child.Sweet smiles, in the night
Hover over my delight;
Sweet smiles, mother’s smiles,
All the livelong night beguiles.Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,
Chase not slumber from thy eyes.
Sweet moans, sweeter smiles,
All the dovelike moans beguiles.Sleep, sleep, happy child,
All creation slept and smil'd;
Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,
While o’er thee thy mother weep.Sweet babe, in thy face
Holy image I can trace.
Sweet babe, once like thee,
Thy Maker lay and wept for me,Wept for me, for thee, for all,
When He was an infant small.
Thou His image ever see,
Heavenly face that smiles on theeSmiles on thee, on me, on all;
Who became an infant small.
Infant smiles are His own smiles;
Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.26 décembre 2014 à 15h45 #157176Spring
Sound the flute!
Now it’s mute.
Birds delight
Day and night;
Nightingale
In the dale,
Lark in sky,
Merrily,
Merrily, merrily, to welcome in the year.Little boy,
Full of joy;
Little girl,
Sweet and small;
Cock does crow,
So do you;
Merry voice,
Infant noise,
Merrily, merrily, to welcome in the year.Little lamb,
Here I am;
Come and lick
My white neck;
Let me pull
Your soft wool;
Let me kiss
Your soft face;
Merrily, merrily, we welcome in the year.26 décembre 2014 à 15h46 #157177The Blossom
Merry merry sparrow!
Under leaves so green
A happy blossom
Sees you swift as arrow
Seek your cradle narrow
Near my bosom.Pretty pretty robin!
Under leaves so green
A happy blossom
Hears you sobbing sobbing
Pretty pretty robin
Near my bosom.26 décembre 2014 à 15h46 #157178The Lamb
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life & bid thee feed
By the stream & o’er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, wooly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee,
Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee:
He is callèd by thy name,
For he calls himself a Lamb.
He is meek, & he is mild;
He became a little child.
I a child, & thou a lamb,
We are callèd by his name.
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
Little Lamb, God bless thee!26 décembre 2014 à 15h47 #157179Night
The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower
In heaven’s high bower,
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have took delight.
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen, they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping bosom.They look in every thoughtless nest
Where birds are covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm:
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on their head,
And sit down by their bed.When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking to drive their thirst away,
And keep them from the sheep.
But if they rush dreadful,
The angels, most heedful,
Receive each mild spirit,
New worlds to inherit.And there the lion’s ruddy eyes
Shall flow with tears of gold,
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold,
Saying: ‘Wrath, by His meekness,
And, by His health, sickness
Is driven away
From our immortal day.‘And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
I can lie down and sleep;
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee and weep.
For, wash'd in life’s river
My bright mane for ever
Shall shine like the gold
As I guard o’er the fold.’26 décembre 2014 à 15h48 #157180The Smile
There is a Smile of LoveAnd there is a Smile of DeceitAnd there is a Smile of SmilesIn which these two Smiles meet
And there is a Frown of HateAnd there is a Frown of disdainAnd there is a Frown of FrownsWhich you strive to forget in vain
For it sticks in the Hearts deep CoreAnd it sticks in the deep Back boneAnd no Smile that ever was smildBut only one Smile alone
That betwixt the Cradle & GraveIt only once Smild can beBut when it once is SmildTheres an end to all Misery26 décembre 2014 à 15h53 #157181The Tyger
Tyger Tyger. burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand? And what dread feet?What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?Tyger Tyger burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand and eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?26 décembre 2014 à 15h55 #157182The Sick Rose
O Rose, thou art sick:
The invisible worm
That flies in the night
In the howling storm,Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.26 décembre 2014 à 15h56 #157183The Angel
I dreamt a dream! What can it mean?
And that I was a maiden Queen
Guarded by an Angel mild:
Witless woe was ne’er beguiled!And I wept both night and day,
And he wiped my tears away;
And I wept both day and night,
And hid from him my heart’s delight.So he took his wings, and fled;
Then the morn blushed rosy red.
I dried my tears, and armed my fears
With ten thousand shields and spears.Soon my Angel came again;
I was armed, he came in vain;
For the time of youth was fled,
And grey hairs were on my head.26 décembre 2014 à 15h57 #157184The Clod and the Pebble
'Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a heaven in hell's despair.'So sung a little clod of clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet,
But a pebble of the brook
Warbled out these metres meet:'Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a hell in heaven's despite.' - AuteurMessages
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