https://sonett.fontane-place.de/ Tue, 30 Jun 2026 15:38:24 +0000 MyBB https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17507 Fri, 16 Nov 2007 23:37:25 +0100 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17507 1859 - 1939 Großbritannien

Isolation

From the uneven ground great columns spring
To dim far heights. At vespers or at nones
The one-voiced dialogue in shouts or moans
Through the triforium gloom floats echoing.

No unseen choirs sweet showers of music fling;
Below the altar, on these worn grey stones,
While solemn sacrifice my soul atones,
I serve myself the mass myself must sing.

Alone I stand, and here for ever swing
This censer, whence large curls of incense rise
Round clustered pillars to the clerestories.

This side the western door, with offering,
No seperate soul my altar may attend:
Alone, apart, I stand until the end.]]> 1859 - 1939 Großbritannien

Isolation

From the uneven ground great columns spring
To dim far heights. At vespers or at nones
The one-voiced dialogue in shouts or moans
Through the triforium gloom floats echoing.

No unseen choirs sweet showers of music fling;
Below the altar, on these worn grey stones,
While solemn sacrifice my soul atones,
I serve myself the mass myself must sing.

Alone I stand, and here for ever swing
This censer, whence large curls of incense rise
Round clustered pillars to the clerestories.

This side the western door, with offering,
No seperate soul my altar may attend:
Alone, apart, I stand until the end.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17506 Wed, 07 Nov 2007 12:54:09 +0100 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17506 Rowland Eyes Egerton-Warburton
1804-1891

Past and Present

On four-horse coach, whose luggage pierced the sky,
Perch'd on back seat, like clerk on office-stool,
While wintry winds my dangling heels kept cool,
In Whitney white envelop'd and blue tie,

Unpillow'd slumber from my half-closed eye
Scared by the shrill tin horn; when welcome Yule
Brought holiday season, it was thus from school
I homeward came some forty years gone by.

Thus two long days and one long night I rode,
Stage after stage, till the last change of team
Stopp'd, splash'd and panting, at my sir's abode.

How nowaday from school comes home my son?
Through duct and tunnel by a puff of steam,
Shot like a pellet from his own pop-gun.]]> Rowland Eyes Egerton-Warburton
1804-1891

Past and Present

On four-horse coach, whose luggage pierced the sky,
Perch'd on back seat, like clerk on office-stool,
While wintry winds my dangling heels kept cool,
In Whitney white envelop'd and blue tie,

Unpillow'd slumber from my half-closed eye
Scared by the shrill tin horn; when welcome Yule
Brought holiday season, it was thus from school
I homeward came some forty years gone by.

Thus two long days and one long night I rode,
Stage after stage, till the last change of team
Stopp'd, splash'd and panting, at my sir's abode.

How nowaday from school comes home my son?
Through duct and tunnel by a puff of steam,
Shot like a pellet from his own pop-gun.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17399 Sun, 28 Oct 2007 09:20:38 +0100 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17399
SOUGHT to keep the way of life 'twas hard ;
Beneath me yawned the darkness, wide and deep,
I saw the blinding mists around me sweep,
And spectral forms of fear the pathway barred,
My footsteps to bewilder and retard.
No help was left, save on my knees to creep
Close to the crumbling edge, and cling and weep,
With weary limbs, and hands all bruised and scarred.
For this, methought, was faith with desperate trust
To grasp the worn-out relics of a creed.
Beneath the strain they shivered into dust ;
I reeled and fell oh, where ? upon the breast
Of Love divine, and there, at peace indeed,
My soul in heavenly darkness lies at rest.]]>
SOUGHT to keep the way of life 'twas hard ;
Beneath me yawned the darkness, wide and deep,
I saw the blinding mists around me sweep,
And spectral forms of fear the pathway barred,
My footsteps to bewilder and retard.
No help was left, save on my knees to creep
Close to the crumbling edge, and cling and weep,
With weary limbs, and hands all bruised and scarred.
For this, methought, was faith with desperate trust
To grasp the worn-out relics of a creed.
Beneath the strain they shivered into dust ;
I reeled and fell oh, where ? upon the breast
Of Love divine, and there, at peace indeed,
My soul in heavenly darkness lies at rest.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16773 Sun, 28 Oct 2007 09:18:34 +0100 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16773
I CANNOT choose but think upon the time
When our two lives grew like two buds that kiss
At lightest thrill from the bee's swinging chime,
Because the one so near the other is.
He was the elder, and a little man
Of forty inches, bound to show no dread,
And I the girl that puppy-like now ran,
Now lagged behind my brother's larger tread.
I held him wise, and when he talked to me
Of snakes and birds, and which God loved the best,
I thought his knowledge marked the boundary
Where men grew blind, though angels knew the rest.
If he said c Hush !' I tried to hold my breath ;
Wherever he said ' Come ! ' I stepped in faith.]]>
I CANNOT choose but think upon the time
When our two lives grew like two buds that kiss
At lightest thrill from the bee's swinging chime,
Because the one so near the other is.
He was the elder, and a little man
Of forty inches, bound to show no dread,
And I the girl that puppy-like now ran,
Now lagged behind my brother's larger tread.
I held him wise, and when he talked to me
Of snakes and birds, and which God loved the best,
I thought his knowledge marked the boundary
Where men grew blind, though angels knew the rest.
If he said c Hush !' I tried to hold my breath ;
Wherever he said ' Come ! ' I stepped in faith.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16772 Sun, 28 Oct 2007 09:16:49 +0100 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16772
I THINK the great God gave thee unto men
To be to them what Maro was to thee
Another gracious Beatrice to be
Piloting souls ; recording with thy pen
Things strange, and never dreamed of until then,
With coasts and islands in the Future's sea
Mapped in the clear dim light of mystery.
Preacher of Retribution ! shall I, when
The bodies of the glorious dead arise
And in the Holy City re-appear
To many, find that grace to recognise
One who has led me spell-bound far and near
Through Purgatory, Hell, and Paradise,
And hail thee as earth's greatest poet-seer !]]>
I THINK the great God gave thee unto men
To be to them what Maro was to thee
Another gracious Beatrice to be
Piloting souls ; recording with thy pen
Things strange, and never dreamed of until then,
With coasts and islands in the Future's sea
Mapped in the clear dim light of mystery.
Preacher of Retribution ! shall I, when
The bodies of the glorious dead arise
And in the Holy City re-appear
To many, find that grace to recognise
One who has led me spell-bound far and near
Through Purgatory, Hell, and Paradise,
And hail thee as earth's greatest poet-seer !]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16948 Sun, 22 Jul 2007 18:42:53 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16948
It is in vain the weary spirit strives
With that which doth consume it; - there is born
A strength from suffering which can laugh to scorn
The stroke of sorrow, even though it rives

Our very heart-strings; but the grief that lives
Forever in the heart, and, day by day,
Wastes the soul’s high-wrought energies away,
And wears the lofty spirit down, and gives

Its own dark hue to life, O who can bear?
Yet, as the black and threatening tempests bring
New fragrance to earth’s flowers, and tints more fair,

So beneath sorrow’s nurture virtues spring.
Youth, health, and hope may fade, but there is left
A soul that trusts in Heaven, though thus of all bereft.]]>
It is in vain the weary spirit strives
With that which doth consume it; - there is born
A strength from suffering which can laugh to scorn
The stroke of sorrow, even though it rives

Our very heart-strings; but the grief that lives
Forever in the heart, and, day by day,
Wastes the soul’s high-wrought energies away,
And wears the lofty spirit down, and gives

Its own dark hue to life, O who can bear?
Yet, as the black and threatening tempests bring
New fragrance to earth’s flowers, and tints more fair,

So beneath sorrow’s nurture virtues spring.
Youth, health, and hope may fade, but there is left
A soul that trusts in Heaven, though thus of all bereft.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16947 Sun, 22 Jul 2007 18:42:19 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16947 And reached at summer eve a green hillside,
Whence he can see, now veiled in twilight gray,
The dreary path through which he lately hied,

While o’er his onward road the setting sun
Sheds its sweet beam on every wayside flower,
Forgets his labors ere the goal be won,
And in his heart enjoys the quiet hour.

Father and mother, be it so with you!
While memory’s pleasant twilight shades the past,
May hope illume the way ye still pursue,

And each new scene seem brighter than the last;
Thus, wending on toward sunset, may ye find
Life’s lengthening shadows ever cast behind.]]> And reached at summer eve a green hillside,
Whence he can see, now veiled in twilight gray,
The dreary path through which he lately hied,

While o’er his onward road the setting sun
Sheds its sweet beam on every wayside flower,
Forgets his labors ere the goal be won,
And in his heart enjoys the quiet hour.

Father and mother, be it so with you!
While memory’s pleasant twilight shades the past,
May hope illume the way ye still pursue,

And each new scene seem brighter than the last;
Thus, wending on toward sunset, may ye find
Life’s lengthening shadows ever cast behind.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16913 Sun, 22 Jul 2007 18:12:54 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16913 O truant heart —there is a blessed home,
An isle of gladness on life's wayward sea,
Where storms, that vex the waters, never come.
There trees perennial yield their balmy shade,
There flower-wreath'd hills in sunlit beauty sleep;
There meek streams murmur through the verdant glade —
There heaven bends smiling o'er the placid deep.
Winnow'd by wings immortal that fair isle;
Vocal its air with music from above;
There meets the exile eye a welcoming smile;
There ever speaks a summoning voice of love
Unto the heavy-laden and distress'd, —
"Come unto me, and I will give you rest.'']]> O truant heart —there is a blessed home,
An isle of gladness on life's wayward sea,
Where storms, that vex the waters, never come.
There trees perennial yield their balmy shade,
There flower-wreath'd hills in sunlit beauty sleep;
There meek streams murmur through the verdant glade —
There heaven bends smiling o'er the placid deep.
Winnow'd by wings immortal that fair isle;
Vocal its air with music from above;
There meets the exile eye a welcoming smile;
There ever speaks a summoning voice of love
Unto the heavy-laden and distress'd, —
"Come unto me, and I will give you rest.'']]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16912 Sun, 22 Jul 2007 18:12:12 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16912 Who guard'st thy timid flock with tenderest care —
Who guid'st in sunny paths their wandering feet, —
And the young lambs dost in thy bosom bear; —
Who lead'st thy happy flock to pastures fair,
And by still waters at the noon of day —
Charming with lute divine the silent air,
What time they linger on the verdant way; —
Good Shepherd! might one gentle distant strain
Of that immortal melody sink deep
Into my heart, and pierce its careless sleep,
And melt by powerful love its sevenfold chain —
Oh! then my soul thy voice should know, and flee
To mingle with thy flock, and ever follow Thee!]]> Who guard'st thy timid flock with tenderest care —
Who guid'st in sunny paths their wandering feet, —
And the young lambs dost in thy bosom bear; —
Who lead'st thy happy flock to pastures fair,
And by still waters at the noon of day —
Charming with lute divine the silent air,
What time they linger on the verdant way; —
Good Shepherd! might one gentle distant strain
Of that immortal melody sink deep
Into my heart, and pierce its careless sleep,
And melt by powerful love its sevenfold chain —
Oh! then my soul thy voice should know, and flee
To mingle with thy flock, and ever follow Thee!]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16906 Sun, 22 Jul 2007 18:05:05 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16906
I

In the profound and dreadful calm of night,
Worn with the newness of my grief, I come
Dry-eyed, and fall beside you, spent and dumb,
Dreading the dawn, with all its aching light;
Dreading the day, and all it holds for me
Of restlessness and forms that come and go;
New things to do, new things to see and know,
That were not yet, when you were there to see;
And shut my eyes, and for a while pretend
That I can lean against you, feel your hand,
Hear your heart beat, and know you understand,
Though you are farther than the wide world's end.
Ah! My Belovéd, swiftly, silently,
Surely your kind, kind ghost shall comfort me.



II

It cannot be that you shall no more come
Radiant with laughter, holding hands for mine,
Seeking my soul for Love's most earnest sign,
Meeting my thought with eloquent thought and dumb
It cannot be that I must look for you
There, where the Summer flames, and find you not;
Of splendid sunsets know you all forgot,
Nor find you in the rain, nor the sky's blue.
For here the lily all her sweetness yields,
And all my heart is open to the sun;
And, seeking peace in grief, the long day done,
I find it in the silver, moonlit fields.
Then, by the beauty of the world I know
That you are here, and will not let me go.]]>
I

In the profound and dreadful calm of night,
Worn with the newness of my grief, I come
Dry-eyed, and fall beside you, spent and dumb,
Dreading the dawn, with all its aching light;
Dreading the day, and all it holds for me
Of restlessness and forms that come and go;
New things to do, new things to see and know,
That were not yet, when you were there to see;
And shut my eyes, and for a while pretend
That I can lean against you, feel your hand,
Hear your heart beat, and know you understand,
Though you are farther than the wide world's end.
Ah! My Belovéd, swiftly, silently,
Surely your kind, kind ghost shall comfort me.



II

It cannot be that you shall no more come
Radiant with laughter, holding hands for mine,
Seeking my soul for Love's most earnest sign,
Meeting my thought with eloquent thought and dumb
It cannot be that I must look for you
There, where the Summer flames, and find you not;
Of splendid sunsets know you all forgot,
Nor find you in the rain, nor the sky's blue.
For here the lily all her sweetness yields,
And all my heart is open to the sun;
And, seeking peace in grief, the long day done,
I find it in the silver, moonlit fields.
Then, by the beauty of the world I know
That you are here, and will not let me go.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16900 Sun, 22 Jul 2007 14:52:45 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16900
The boat is hauled upon the hardening sand,
The mist is gathering o'er the dim morass,
The kine are couching on the daisied grass,
And in their stalls the champing horses stand.
No plash of brine along the darkling strand,
No light winds play the reed-pipes as they pass;
The moonlit deep is glittering like glass,
And all things yield to stilly Night's command.
O balmy hours of silver sheen and dew!
Shall nought belie you save this labouring breast--
The soul alone to Nature be untrue,
And still of what she hath not go in quest?
Just now ye spake. Ah, speak those words anew,
"Wait, weary heart; soon thou shalt also rest."]]>
The boat is hauled upon the hardening sand,
The mist is gathering o'er the dim morass,
The kine are couching on the daisied grass,
And in their stalls the champing horses stand.
No plash of brine along the darkling strand,
No light winds play the reed-pipes as they pass;
The moonlit deep is glittering like glass,
And all things yield to stilly Night's command.
O balmy hours of silver sheen and dew!
Shall nought belie you save this labouring breast--
The soul alone to Nature be untrue,
And still of what she hath not go in quest?
Just now ye spake. Ah, speak those words anew,
"Wait, weary heart; soon thou shalt also rest."]]>