This is a "found poem" the lines are from poems ranging from 13th century to the 20th century
I have fears that I may cease to be,
And that I shall never look upon thee more.
Had we but world enough, and time
I would voice aloud a love,
A love so much refined,
Even ourselves know not what it is.
But we have given our hearts away
So I have chosen thus to fling
My soul upon the growing gloom.
Of all the western stars, until I die
Though I must go, endure not yet.
For I shall love thee better after death,
As for me, alas, I may no more
But while old time is still a-flying
T’s not too late for you to seek
a newer world,
No nearer to
Death’s dream kingdom,
For the world which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams
Has not yet attained its noon.
Sep 29, 2011
Sep 29, 2011 at 11:18 PM UTC
This is a "found poem" the lines are from poems ranging from 13th century to the 20th century
I have fears that I may cease to be,
And that I shall never look upon thee more.
Had we but world enough, and time
I would voice aloud a love,
A love so much refined,
Even ourselves know not what it is.
But we have given our hearts away
So I have chosen thus to fling
My soul upon the growing gloom.
Of all the western stars, until I die
Though I must go, endure not yet.
For I shall love thee better after death,
As for me, alas, I may no more
But while old time is still a-flying
T’s not too late for you to seek
a newer world,
No nearer to
Death’s dream kingdom,
For the world which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams
Has not yet attained its noon.
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