https://sonett.fontane-place.de/ Mon, 29 Jun 2026 21:52:21 +0000 MyBB https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23279 Wed, 27 Aug 2014 17:22:29 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23279 And bitter blasts the screaming autumn whirl,
All night through archways of the bridged pearl
And portals of pure silver walks the moon.
Wake on, my soul, nor crouch to agony:
Turn cloud to light, and bitterness to joy,
And dross to gold with glorious alchemy,
Basing thy throne above the world's annoy.
Reign thou above the storms of sorrow and ruth
That roar beneath; unshaken peace hath won thee:
So shall thou pierce the woven glooms of truth;
So shall the blessing of the meek be on thee;
So in thine hour of dawn, the body's youth,
An honourable eld shall come upon thee.]]> And bitter blasts the screaming autumn whirl,
All night through archways of the bridged pearl
And portals of pure silver walks the moon.
Wake on, my soul, nor crouch to agony:
Turn cloud to light, and bitterness to joy,
And dross to gold with glorious alchemy,
Basing thy throne above the world's annoy.
Reign thou above the storms of sorrow and ruth
That roar beneath; unshaken peace hath won thee:
So shall thou pierce the woven glooms of truth;
So shall the blessing of the meek be on thee;
So in thine hour of dawn, the body's youth,
An honourable eld shall come upon thee.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23276 Wed, 27 Aug 2014 17:20:34 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23276 And steep my soul in laughter (when I view
Fair maiden forms moving like melodies),
Dimples, roselips, and eyes of any hue.

There are three things beneath the blessed skies
For which I live--black eyes, and brown and blue;
I hold them all most dear; but oh! black eyes,
I live and die, and only die for you.

Of late such eyes looked at me--while I mused
At sunset, underneath a shadowy plane
In old Bayona, nigh the Southern Sea--
From an half-open lattice looked at _me_.

I saw no more only those eyes--confused
And dazzled to the heart with glorious pain.]]> And steep my soul in laughter (when I view
Fair maiden forms moving like melodies),
Dimples, roselips, and eyes of any hue.

There are three things beneath the blessed skies
For which I live--black eyes, and brown and blue;
I hold them all most dear; but oh! black eyes,
I live and die, and only die for you.

Of late such eyes looked at me--while I mused
At sunset, underneath a shadowy plane
In old Bayona, nigh the Southern Sea--
From an half-open lattice looked at _me_.

I saw no more only those eyes--confused
And dazzled to the heart with glorious pain.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23275 Wed, 27 Aug 2014 17:19:59 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23275 Down an ideal stream they ever float,
And sailing on Pactolus in a boat,
Drown soul and sense, while wistfully they strain
Weak eyes upon the glistering sands that robe
The understream. The wise could he behold
Cathedralled caverns of thick-ribbed gold
And branching silvers of the central globe,
Would marvel from so beautiful a sight
How scorn and ruin, pain and hate could flow:
But Hatred in a gold cave sits below,
Pleached with her hair, in mail of argent light
Shot into gold, a snake her forehead clips
And skins the colour from her trembling lips.]]> Down an ideal stream they ever float,
And sailing on Pactolus in a boat,
Drown soul and sense, while wistfully they strain
Weak eyes upon the glistering sands that robe
The understream. The wise could he behold
Cathedralled caverns of thick-ribbed gold
And branching silvers of the central globe,
Would marvel from so beautiful a sight
How scorn and ruin, pain and hate could flow:
But Hatred in a gold cave sits below,
Pleached with her hair, in mail of argent light
Shot into gold, a snake her forehead clips
And skins the colour from her trembling lips.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23274 Wed, 27 Aug 2014 17:14:53 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23274 Or propagate again her loathed kind,
Thronging the cells of the diseased mind,
Hateful with hanging cheeks, a withered brood,
Though hourly pastured on the salient blood?
Oh! that the wind which bloweth cold or heat
Would shatter and o'erbear the brazen beat
Of their broad vans, and in the solitude
Of middle space confound them, and blow back
Their wild cries down their cavernthroats, and slake
With points of blastborne hail their heated eyne!
So their wan limbs no more might come between
The moon and the moon's reflex in the night;
Nor blot with floating shades the solar light.]]> Or propagate again her loathed kind,
Thronging the cells of the diseased mind,
Hateful with hanging cheeks, a withered brood,
Though hourly pastured on the salient blood?
Oh! that the wind which bloweth cold or heat
Would shatter and o'erbear the brazen beat
Of their broad vans, and in the solitude
Of middle space confound them, and blow back
Their wild cries down their cavernthroats, and slake
With points of blastborne hail their heated eyne!
So their wan limbs no more might come between
The moon and the moon's reflex in the night;
Nor blot with floating shades the solar light.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23273 Wed, 27 Aug 2014 17:14:14 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23273 How canst thou let me waste my youth in sighs;
I only ask to sit beside thy feet.
Thou knowest I dare not look into thine eyes,
Might I but kiss thy hand! I dare not fold
My arms about thee--scarcely dare to speak.
And nothing seems to me so wild and bold,
As with one kiss to touch thy blessed cheek.
Methinks if I should kiss thee, no control
Within the thrilling brain could keep afloat
The subtle spirit. Even while I spoke,
The bare word KISS hath made my inner soul
To tremble like a lutestring, ere the note
Hath melted in the silence that it broke.]]> How canst thou let me waste my youth in sighs;
I only ask to sit beside thy feet.
Thou knowest I dare not look into thine eyes,
Might I but kiss thy hand! I dare not fold
My arms about thee--scarcely dare to speak.
And nothing seems to me so wild and bold,
As with one kiss to touch thy blessed cheek.
Methinks if I should kiss thee, no control
Within the thrilling brain could keep afloat
The subtle spirit. Even while I spoke,
The bare word KISS hath made my inner soul
To tremble like a lutestring, ere the note
Hath melted in the silence that it broke.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23272 Wed, 27 Aug 2014 17:13:45 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23272 Thy woes are birds of passage, transitory:
Thy spirit, circled with a living glory,
In summer still a summer joy resumeth.
Alone my hopeless melancholy gloometh,
Like a lone cypress, through the twilight hoary,
From an old garden where no flower bloometh,
One cypress on an inland promontory.
But yet my lonely spirit follows thine,
As round the rolling earth night follows day:
But yet thy lights on my horizon shine
Into my night when thou art far away;
I am so dark, alas! and thou so bright,
When we two meet there's never perfect light.]]> Thy woes are birds of passage, transitory:
Thy spirit, circled with a living glory,
In summer still a summer joy resumeth.
Alone my hopeless melancholy gloometh,
Like a lone cypress, through the twilight hoary,
From an old garden where no flower bloometh,
One cypress on an inland promontory.
But yet my lonely spirit follows thine,
As round the rolling earth night follows day:
But yet thy lights on my horizon shine
Into my night when thou art far away;
I am so dark, alas! and thou so bright,
When we two meet there's never perfect light.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23266 Wed, 27 Aug 2014 17:04:42 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23266 With one brief winter, and indue i' the spring
Hues of fresh youth, and mightily outgrow
The wan dark coil of faded suffering--
Forth in the pride of beauty issuing
A sheeny snake, the light of vernal bowers,
Moving his crest to all sweet plots of flowers
And watered vallies where the young birds sing;
Could I thus hope my lost delights renewing,
I straightly would commend the tears to creep
From my charged lids; but inwardly I weep:
Some vital heat as yet my heart is wooing:
This to itself hath drawn the frozen rain
From my cold eyes and melted it again.]]> With one brief winter, and indue i' the spring
Hues of fresh youth, and mightily outgrow
The wan dark coil of faded suffering--
Forth in the pride of beauty issuing
A sheeny snake, the light of vernal bowers,
Moving his crest to all sweet plots of flowers
And watered vallies where the young birds sing;
Could I thus hope my lost delights renewing,
I straightly would commend the tears to creep
From my charged lids; but inwardly I weep:
Some vital heat as yet my heart is wooing:
This to itself hath drawn the frozen rain
From my cold eyes and melted it again.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23265 Wed, 27 Aug 2014 17:04:11 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23265 Of thought and speech; speak low, and give up wholly
Thy spirit to mild-minded Melancholy;
This is the place. Through yonder poplar alley
Below, the blue-green river windeth slowly;
But in the middle of the sombre valley
The crisped waters whisper musically,
And all the haunted place is dark and holy.
The nightingale, with long and low preamble,
Warbled from yonder knoll of solemn larches,
And in and out the woodbine's flowery arches
The summer midges wove their wanton gambol,
And all the white-stemmed pinewood slept above--
When in this valley first I told my love.]]> Of thought and speech; speak low, and give up wholly
Thy spirit to mild-minded Melancholy;
This is the place. Through yonder poplar alley
Below, the blue-green river windeth slowly;
But in the middle of the sombre valley
The crisped waters whisper musically,
And all the haunted place is dark and holy.
The nightingale, with long and low preamble,
Warbled from yonder knoll of solemn larches,
And in and out the woodbine's flowery arches
The summer midges wove their wanton gambol,
And all the white-stemmed pinewood slept above--
When in this valley first I told my love.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23264 Wed, 27 Aug 2014 17:03:35 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23264 The hosts to battle: be not bought and sold.
Arise, brave Poles, the boldest of the bold;
Break through your iron shackles--fling them far.
O for those days of Piast, ere the Czar
Grew to this strength among his deserts cold;
When even to Moscow's cupolas were rolled
The growing murmurs of the Polish war!
Now must your noble anger blaze out more
Than when from Sobieski, clan by clan,
The Moslem myriads fell, and fled before--
Than when Zamoysky smote the Tartar Khan,
Than earlier, when on the Baltic shore
Boleslas drove the Pomeranian.]]> The hosts to battle: be not bought and sold.
Arise, brave Poles, the boldest of the bold;
Break through your iron shackles--fling them far.
O for those days of Piast, ere the Czar
Grew to this strength among his deserts cold;
When even to Moscow's cupolas were rolled
The growing murmurs of the Polish war!
Now must your noble anger blaze out more
Than when from Sobieski, clan by clan,
The Moslem myriads fell, and fled before--
Than when Zamoysky smote the Tartar Khan,
Than earlier, when on the Baltic shore
Boleslas drove the Pomeranian.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23254 Wed, 27 Aug 2014 16:49:13 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=23254

My hope and heart is with thee--thou wilt be
A latter Luther, and a soldier-priest
To scare church-harpies from the master's feast;
Our dusted velvets have much need of thee:
Thou art no Sabbath-drawler of old saws,
Distill'd from some worm-canker'd homily;
But spurr'd at heart with fieriest energy
To embattail and to wall about thy cause
With iron-worded proof, hating to hark
The humming of the drowsy pulpit-drone
Half God's good sabbath, while the worn-out clerk
Brow-beats his desk below. Thou from a throne
Mounted in heaven wilt shoot into the dark
Arrows of lightnings. I will stand and mark.]]>

My hope and heart is with thee--thou wilt be
A latter Luther, and a soldier-priest
To scare church-harpies from the master's feast;
Our dusted velvets have much need of thee:
Thou art no Sabbath-drawler of old saws,
Distill'd from some worm-canker'd homily;
But spurr'd at heart with fieriest energy
To embattail and to wall about thy cause
With iron-worded proof, hating to hark
The humming of the drowsy pulpit-drone
Half God's good sabbath, while the worn-out clerk
Brow-beats his desk below. Thou from a throne
Mounted in heaven wilt shoot into the dark
Arrows of lightnings. I will stand and mark.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17479 Sun, 28 Oct 2007 13:48:07 +0100 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17479
THEY rose to where their sovran eagle sails,
They kept their faith, their freedom, on the height,
Chaste, frugal, savage, armed by day and night
Against the Turk ; whose inroad nowhere scales
Their headlong passes, but his footstep fails,
And red with blood the Crescent reels from fight
Before their dauntless hundreds, in prone flight
By thousands down the crags and through the vales.
O smallest among peoples ! rough rock-throne
Of Freedom ! warriors beating back the swarm
Of Turkish Islam for five hundred years,
Great Tsernagora ! never since thine own
Black ridges drew the cloud and brake the storm
Has breathed a race of mightier mountaineers.]]>
THEY rose to where their sovran eagle sails,
They kept their faith, their freedom, on the height,
Chaste, frugal, savage, armed by day and night
Against the Turk ; whose inroad nowhere scales
Their headlong passes, but his footstep fails,
And red with blood the Crescent reels from fight
Before their dauntless hundreds, in prone flight
By thousands down the crags and through the vales.
O smallest among peoples ! rough rock-throne
Of Freedom ! warriors beating back the swarm
Of Turkish Islam for five hundred years,
Great Tsernagora ! never since thine own
Black ridges drew the cloud and brake the storm
Has breathed a race of mightier mountaineers.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17478 Sun, 28 Oct 2007 13:47:10 +0100 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17478
THOSE that of late had flitted far and fast
To touch all shores, now leaving to the skill
Of others their old craft seaworthy still,
Have chartered this ; where, mindful of the past,
Our true co-mates regather round the mast ;
Of diverse tongue, but with a common will
Here in this roaring moon of daffodil
And crocus, to put forth and brave the blast ;
For some, descending from the sacred peak
Of hoar high-templed Faith, have leagued again
Their lot with ours to rove the world about ;
And some are wilder comrades, sworn to seek
If any golden harbour be for men
In seas of Death and sunless gulfs of Doubt.]]>
THOSE that of late had flitted far and fast
To touch all shores, now leaving to the skill
Of others their old craft seaworthy still,
Have chartered this ; where, mindful of the past,
Our true co-mates regather round the mast ;
Of diverse tongue, but with a common will
Here in this roaring moon of daffodil
And crocus, to put forth and brave the blast ;
For some, descending from the sacred peak
Of hoar high-templed Faith, have leagued again
Their lot with ours to rove the world about ;
And some are wilder comrades, sworn to seek
If any golden harbour be for men
In seas of Death and sunless gulfs of Doubt.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=14507 Mon, 21 May 2007 15:08:38 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=14507
Guess well, and that is well. Our age can find
The shower that fell a million years ago,
An ever-vanished ocean’s ebb and flow
Rock-written; but no man can send his mind

Into man’s past so well, that he can form
A perfect likeness of long-vanished souls,
Whate’er new lights be let on ancient scrolls
And secular perforations of the worm.

Courage, old Clio! we have read the rocks,
You see the past dilated through the fog
Of ages. Do your best, for that remains.

More will you do. We are more than goat and ox,
More than the long-descended horse and dog,
Whose one dumb record is their limbs and brains.]]>
Guess well, and that is well. Our age can find
The shower that fell a million years ago,
An ever-vanished ocean’s ebb and flow
Rock-written; but no man can send his mind

Into man’s past so well, that he can form
A perfect likeness of long-vanished souls,
Whate’er new lights be let on ancient scrolls
And secular perforations of the worm.

Courage, old Clio! we have read the rocks,
You see the past dilated through the fog
Of ages. Do your best, for that remains.

More will you do. We are more than goat and ox,
More than the long-descended horse and dog,
Whose one dumb record is their limbs and brains.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=14506 Mon, 21 May 2007 15:08:08 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=14506 To J. M. K.

My hope and heart is with thee, - thou wilt be
A latter Luther and soldier-priest
To scare church-harpies from the Master’s feast;
Our dusted velvets have much need of thee:

Thou art no sabbath-drawler of old saws
Distilled from some worm-cankered homily;
But spurred at heart with fieriest energy
To embattail and to wall about thy cause

With iron-worded proof, hating to hark
The humming of the drowsy pulpit-drone
Half God’s good sabbath, while the worn-out clerk

Browbeats his desk below. Thou, from a throne
Mounted in heaven, wilt shoot into the dark
Arrows of lightnings. I will stand and mark.]]> To J. M. K.

My hope and heart is with thee, - thou wilt be
A latter Luther and soldier-priest
To scare church-harpies from the Master’s feast;
Our dusted velvets have much need of thee:

Thou art no sabbath-drawler of old saws
Distilled from some worm-cankered homily;
But spurred at heart with fieriest energy
To embattail and to wall about thy cause

With iron-worded proof, hating to hark
The humming of the drowsy pulpit-drone
Half God’s good sabbath, while the worn-out clerk

Browbeats his desk below. Thou, from a throne
Mounted in heaven, wilt shoot into the dark
Arrows of lightnings. I will stand and mark.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=14505 Mon, 21 May 2007 15:07:39 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=14505
Blow ye the trumpet; gather from afar
The hosts to battle; be not bought and sold.
Arise, brave Poles, the boldest of the bold;
Break through your iron shackles, - fling them far.

O for those days of Piast, ere the Czar
Grew to this strength among his desert cold;
When even Moscow’s cupulas were rolled
The growing murmurs of the Polish war!

Now must your noble anger blaze out more
Than when from Sobieski, clan by clan,
The Moslem myriads fell and fled before;

Than when Zamoyski smote the Tatar Khan;
Than, earlier, when on the Baltic shore
Boleslas drove the Pomeranian.]]>
Blow ye the trumpet; gather from afar
The hosts to battle; be not bought and sold.
Arise, brave Poles, the boldest of the bold;
Break through your iron shackles, - fling them far.

O for those days of Piast, ere the Czar
Grew to this strength among his desert cold;
When even Moscow’s cupulas were rolled
The growing murmurs of the Polish war!

Now must your noble anger blaze out more
Than when from Sobieski, clan by clan,
The Moslem myriads fell and fled before;

Than when Zamoyski smote the Tatar Khan;
Than, earlier, when on the Baltic shore
Boleslas drove the Pomeranian.]]>