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Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50)

Page 144

by Homer

And all together pray,

  While each to his great Father bends,

  Old men, and babes, and loving friends,

  And youths and maidens gay!

  Farewell, farewell! but this I tell

  To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!

  He prayeth well, who loveth well

  Both man and bird and beast.

  He prayeth best, who loveth best

  All things both great and small;

  For the dear God who loveth us

  He made and loveth all.

  The Mariner, whose eye is bright,

  Whose beard with age is hoar,

  Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest

  Turned from the bridegroom’s door.

  He went like one that hath been stunned,

  And is of sense forlorn:

  A sadder and a wiser man,

  He rose the morrow morn.

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Kubla Khan

  Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772–1834)

  IN Xanadu did Kubla Khan

  A stately pleasure-dome decree:

  Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

  Through caverns measureless to man

  Down to a sunless sea. 5

  So twice five miles of fertile ground

  With walls and towers were girdled round:

  And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,

  Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree

  And here were forests ancient as the hills, 10

  Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

  But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

  Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

  A savage place! as holy and enchanted

  As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted 15

  By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

  And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething

  As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,

  A mighty fountain momently was forced;

  Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst 20

  Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

  Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:

  And ‘mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

  It flung up momently the sacred river.

  Five miles meandering with a mazy motion 25

  Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,

  Then reached the caverns measureless to man,

  And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:

  And ‘mid this tumult Kubla heard from far

  Ancestral voices prophesying war! 30

  The shadow of the dome of pleasure

  Floated midway on the waves;

  Where was heard the mingled measure

  From the fountain and the caves.

  It was a miracle of rare device, 35

  A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

  A damsel with a dulcimer

  In a vision once I saw:

  It was an Abyssinian maid,

  And on her dulcimer she played, 40

  Singing of Mount Abora.

  Could I revive within me

  Her symphony and song,

  To such a deep delight ’twould win me,

  That with music loud and long, 45

  I would build that done in air,

  That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

  And all who heard should see them there,

  And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

  His flashing eyes, his floating hair! 50

  Weave a circle round him thrice,

  And close your eyes with holy dread,

  For he on honey-dew hath fed,

  And drunk the milk of Paradise.

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Youth and Age

  Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772–1834)

  VERSE, a breeze ‘mid blossoms straying,

  Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee —

  Both were mine! Life went a-maying

  With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,

  When I was young! 5

  When I was young? — Ah, woful When!

  Ah! for the change ‘twixt Now and Then!

  This breathing house not built with hands,

  This body that does me grievous wrong,

  O’er aery cliffs and glittering sands 10

  How lightly then it flash’d along:

  Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore,

  On winding lakes and rivers wide,

  That ask no aid of sail or oar,

  That fear no spite of wind or tide! 15

  Nought cared this body for wind or weather

  When Youth and I lived in’t together.

  Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like;

  Friendship is a sheltering tree;

  O! the joys, that came down shower-like, 20

  Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty,

  Ere I was old!

  Ere I was old? Ah woful Ere,

  Which tells me, Youth’s no longer here.

  O Youth! for years so many and sweet, 25

  ’Tis known that Thou and I were one,

  I’ll think it but a fond conceit —

  It cannot be, that Thou art gone!

  Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll’d: —

  And thou wert aye a masker bold! 30

  What strange disguise hast now put on

  To make believe that Thou art gone?

  I see these locks in silvery slips,

  This drooping gait, this alter’d size:

  But Springtide blossoms on thy lips, 35

  And tears take sunshine from thine eyes!

  Life is but Thought: so think I will

  That Youth and I are housemates still.

  Dew-drops are the gems of morning,

  But the tears of mournful eve! 40

  Where no hope is, life’s a warning

  That only serves to make us grieve

  When we are old:

  — That only serves to make us grieve

  With oft and tedious taking-leave, 45

  Like some poor nigh-related guest

  That may not rudely be dismist,

  Yet hath out-stay’d his welcome while,

  And tells the jest without the smile.

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Love

  Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772–1834)

  ALL thoughts, all passions, all delights,

  Whatever stirs this mortal frame,

  All are but ministers of Love,

  And feed his sacred flame.

  Oft in my waking dreams do I 5

  Live o’er again that happy hour,

  When midway on the mount I lay,

  Beside the ruin’d tower.

  The moonshine stealing o’er the scene

  Had blended with the lights of eve; 10

  And she was there, my hope, my joy,

  My own dear Genevieve!

  She lean’d against the arméd man,

  The statue of the arméd knight;

  She stood and listen’d to my lay, 15

  Amid the lingering light.

  Few sorrows hath she of her own,

  My hope! my joy! my Genevieve!

  She loves me best, whene’er I sing

  The songs that make her grieve. 20

  I play’d a soft and doleful air,

  I sang an old and moving story —

  An old rude song, that suited well

  That ruin wild and hoary.

  She listen’d with a flitting blush, 25

  With downcast eyes and modest grace;

  For well she knew, I could not choose

  But gaze upon her face.

  I told her of the Knight that wore

  Upon his shield a burning brand; 30

  And that for ten long years he woo’
d

  The Lady of the Land.

  I told her how he pined: and ah!

  The deep, the low, the pleading tone

  With which I sang another’s love 35

  Interpreted my own.

  She listen’d with a flitting blush,

  With downcast eyes and modest grace;

  And she forgave me, that I gazed

  Too fondly on her face! 40

  But when I told the cruel scorn

  That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,

  And that he cross’d the mountain-woods,

  Nor rested day nor night;

  That sometimes from the savage den, 45

  And sometimes from the darksome shade

  And sometimes starting up at once

  In green and sunny glade

  There came and look’d him in the face

  An angel beautiful and bright; 50

  And that he knew it was a Fiend,

  This miserable Knight!

  And that unknowing what he did,

  He leap’d amid a murderous band,

  And saved from outrage worse than death 55

  The Lady of the Land;

  And how she wept, and clasp’d his knees;

  And how she tended him in vain;

  And ever strove to expiate

  The scorn that crazed his brain; 60

  And that she nursed him in a cave,

  And how his madness went away,

  When on the yellow forest-leaves

  A dying man he lay;

  — His dying words — but when I reach’d 65

  That tenderest strain of all the ditty,

  My faltering voice and pausing harp

  Disturb’d her soul with pity!

  All impulses of soul and sense

  Had thrill’d my guileless Genevieve; 70

  The music and the doleful tale,

  The rich and balmy eve;

  And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,

  An undistinguishable throng,

  And gentle wishes long subdued, 75

  Subdued and cherish’d long!

  She wept with pity and delight,

  She blush’d with love, and virgin shame;

  And like the murmur of a dream,

  I heard her breathe my name. 80

  Her bosom heaved — she stepp’d aside,

  As conscious of my look she stept —

  Then suddenly, with timorous eye

  She fled to me and wept.

  She half enclosed me with her arms, 85

  She press’d me with a meek embrace;

  And bending back her head, look’d up,

  And gazed upon my face.

  ’Twas partly love, and partly fear,

  And partly ’twas a bashful art 90

  That I might rather feel, than see,

  The swelling of her heart.

  I calm’d her fears, and she was calm,

  And told her love with virgin pride;

  And so I won my Genevieve, 95

  My bright and beauteous Bride.

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Hymn Before Sunrise, in the Vale of Chamouni

  Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772–1834)

  HAST thou a charm to stay the morning-star

  In his deep course? So long he seems to pause

  On thy bald awful head, O sovran Blanc!

  The Arve and Arveiron at thy base

  Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form! 5

  Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines,

  How silently! Around thee and above

  Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black,

  An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it,

  As with a wedge! But when I look again, 10

  It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine,

  Thy habitation from eternity!

  O dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee,

  Till thou, still present to the bodily sense,

  Didst vanish from my thought: entranced in prayer 15

  I worshipped the Invisible alone.

  Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody,

  So sweet, we know not we are listening to it,

  Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my Thought,

  Yea, with my Life and Life’s own secret joy: 20

  Till the dilating Soul, enrapt, transfused,

  Into the mighty vision passing — there

  As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven.

  Awake, my soul! not only passive praise

  Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears, 25

  Mute thanks and secret ecstasy! Awake,

  Voice of sweet song! Awake, my heart, awake!

  Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my Hymn.

  Thou first and chief, sole sovereign of the Vale!

  O struggling with the darkness all the night, 30

  And visited all night by troops of stars,

  Or when they climb the sky or when they sink:

  Companion of the morning-star at dawn,

  Thyself Earth’s rosy star, and of the dawn

  Co-herald: wake, O wake, and utter praise! 35

  Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in Earth?

  Who fill’d thy countenance with rosy light?

  Who made thee parent of perpetual streams?

  And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad!

  Who called you forth from night and utter death, 40

  From dark and icy caverns called you forth,

  Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks,

  For ever shattered and the same for ever?

  Who gave you your invulnerable life,

  Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy, 45

  Unceasing thunder and eternal foam?

  And who commanded (and the silence came),

  Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest?

  Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain’s brow

  Adown enormous ravines slope amain — 50

  Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice,

  And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge!

  Motionless torrents! silent cataracts!

  Who made you glorious as the gates of Heaven

  Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun 55

  Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers

  Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? —

  God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations,

  Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!

  God! sing ye meadow-streams with gladsome voice! 60

  Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds!

  And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow,

  And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God!

  Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost!

  Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle’s nest! 65

  Ye eagles, play-mates of the mountain-storm!

  Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds!

  Ye signs and wonders of the element!

  Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise!

  Thou too, hoar Mount! with thy sky-pointing peaks, 70

  Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard,

  Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene

  Into the depth of clouds, that veil thy breast —

  Thou too again, stupendous Mountain! thou

  That as I raise my head, awhile bowed low 75

  In adoration, upward from thy base

  Slow travelling with dim eyes suffused with tears,

  Solemnly seemest, like a vapoury cloud,

  To rise before me — Rise, O ever rise,

  Rise like a cloud of incense from the Earth! 80

  Thou kingly Spirit throned among the hills,

  Thou dread ambassador from Earth to Heaven,

  Great Hierarch! tell thou the silent sky,

  And tell the stars,
and tell yon rising sun,

  Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God. 85

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Christabel

  Christabel. Part the First

  Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772–1834)

  ‘TIS the middle of night by the castle clock,

  And the owls have awakened the crowing cock;

  Tu — whit! — Tu — whoo!

  And hark, again! the crowing cock,

  How drowsily it crew! 5

  Sir Leoline, the Baron rich,

  Hath a toothless mastiff bitch;

  From her kennel beneath the rock

  Maketh answer to the clock,

  Four for the quarters, and twelve for the hour; 10

  Ever and aye, by shine and shower,

  Sixteen short howls, not over loud;

  Some say, she sees my lady’s shroud.

  Is the night chilly and dark?

  The night is chilly, but not dark. 15

  The thin gray cloud is spread on high,

  It covers but not hides the sky.

  The moon is behind, and at the full;

  And yet she looks both small and dull.

  The night is chill, the cloud is gray: 20

  ’Tis a month before the month of May,

  And the Spring comes slowly up this way.

  The lovely lady, Christabel,

  Whom her father loves so well,

  What makes her in the wood so late, 25

  A furlong from the castle gate?

  She had dreams all yesternight —

  Of her own betrothed knight;

  And she in the midnight wood will pray

  For the weal of her lover that’s far away. 30

  She stole along, she nothing spoke,

  The sighs she heaved were soft and low,

  And naught was green upon the oak

  But moss and rarest mistletoe:

  She kneels beneath the huge oak-tree, 35

 

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