"hesperus" poems
Now the rich cherry, whose sleek wood,
And top with silver petals traced
Like a strict box its gems encased,
Has spilt from out that cunning lid,
All in an innocent green round,
Those melting rubies which it hid;
With moss ripe-strawberry-encrusted,
So birds get half, and minds lapse merry
To taste that deep-red, lark’s-bite berry,
And blackcap bloom is yellow-dusted.
The wren that thieved it in the eaves
A trailer of the rose could catch
To her poor droopy sloven thatch,
And side by side with the wren’s brood—
O lovely time of beggar’s luck—
Opens the quaint and hairy bud;
And full and golden is the yield
Of cows that never have to house,
But all night nibble under boughs,
Or cool their sides in the moist field.
Into the rooms flow meadow airs,
The warm farm baking smell’s blown round.
Inside and out, and sky and ground
Are much the same; the wishing star,
Hesperus, kind and early born,
Is risen only finger-far;
All stars stand close in summer air,
And tremble, and look mild as amber;
When wicks are lighted in the chamber,
They are like stars which settled there.
Now straightening from the flowery hay,
Down the still light the mowers look,
Or turn, because their dreaming shook,
And they waked half to other days,
When left alone in the yellow stubble
The rusty-coated mare would graze.
Yet thick the lazy dreams are born,
Another thought can come to mind,
But like the shivering of the wind,
Morning and evening in the corn.
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Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep:
Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright.
Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made
Heaven to clear when day did close:
Bless us then with wishèd sight,
Goddess excellently bright.
Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal-shining quiver;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short soever;
Thou that mak'st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.
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O Hesperus, thou bringest all good things--
Home to the weary, to the hungry cheer,
To the young bird the parent's brooding wings,
The welcome stall to the o'erlabored steer;
Whate'er our household gods protect of dear,
Are gathered round us by thy look of rest;
Thou bring'st the child too to its mother's breast.
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"Dark eyes are dearer far
Than those that mock the hyacinthine bell."
Blue! 'Tis the life of heaven,—the domain
Of Cynthia,—the wide palace of the sun,—
The tent of Hesperus, and all his train,—
The bosomer of clouds, gold, gray, and dun.
Blue! 'Tis the life of waters:—Ocean
And all its vassal streams, pools numberless,
May rage, and foam, and fret, but never can
Subside, if not to dark-blue nativeness.
Blue! gentle cousin of the forest-green,
Married to green in all the sweetest flowers—
Forget-me-not,—the blue-bell,—and, that queen
Of secrecy, the violet: what strange powers
Hast thou, as a mere shadow! But how great,
When in an Eye thou art alive with fate!
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Lo! in the painted oriel of the West,
Whose panes the sunken sun incarnadines,
Like a fair lady at her casement, shines
The evening star, the star of love and rest!
And then anon she doth herself divest
Of all her radiant garments, and reclines
Behind the sombre screen of yonder pines,
With slumber and soft dreams of love oppressed.
O my beloved, my sweet Hesperus!
My morning and my evening star of love!
My best and gentlest lady! even thus,
As that fair planet in the sky above,
Dost thou retire unto thy rest at night,
And from thy darkened window fades the light.
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Around 93 million miles from darling precious mother Earth,
First appeared glory sun,
In ecliptic stroll,
She'll orbit through her universe,
Dances past Mercury,
Stops for no party,
Cos this planet's party's lacking atmosphere,
Scally-wag sun scoots by Venus,
Burning hot herself,
Shining brightly in the darkness,
Phosphorescent glow,
Hesperus, the evening star, first one to be seen at night,
Phosphorous the morning star, the last planet to bid us goodnight,
When the morning comes in sight
Our lady home is next in line,
A planet rich with all life's treasures,
Mars she sits quietly dressed in red,
Has no water, not sure if she's always been dead,
Jupiter, has severe acne, shown in one red spot immense, she has no atmosphere, what gas she has is toxic, ammonia, methane, hydrogen,
The biggest baby of them all,
Saturn wears no wedding rings, has bands of ice particulate skirting round it's girth,
Uranus not much to say, he hangs around in space all day, as the Greek God of the sky,
Watching as the other world's go by,
Neptune, Roman God of the seas in planet form,
Pluto, chilled, the coldest one of all.
I hope you enjoyed this, it was extremely hard to write!!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 4:00 PM UTC
Her eyes entice you
Your lust wraps around her soul
She feels like your dreams
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 6:33 AM UTC
ma voix s'étrangle.
les eus toujours,
les crayons de couleurs,
maladroite
en matière de dessin.
carrefour.
quelle sortie prendre?
la mer.
le silence m'apprivoise.
les cris des oiseaux de mer.
mes crayons de couleurs,
maladroits.
~~~
(Translation...)
strangled voice, mine.
always had them,
the colouring pencils,
unskilful
in drawing.
crossroads.
wich way to follow?
the sea.
silence takes hold of me.
the seagulls cry.
my colouring pencils,
unskilful.
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 4:02 AM UTC
On wintry nights the mariners sing
Of tales such as these
The sound of a fair maid crying
Carried on November’s breeze
On moonless nights along the shore
Where plaintive surf does sigh
A chill will set in the bones of those
Who hear her mournful cry
Beware good men who ride the waves
Should you hear young maiden fair
Set a new course for open sea
Lest frigid death find you there
She drifts alone on storm frothed waves
Icicle tears form round her eyes
Her frigid embrace a sailor’s death
When winters wrath fills the skies
Alas fair maid of the Hesperus
Her spirit a slave to the wretched sea
The deep no kind of resting place
For a beauty such as thee
Beware good men who ride the waves
Should you hear young maiden fair
Set a new course for open sea
Lest frigid death find you there
TL Boehm 2007
dedicated to Longfellow...
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 11:16 AM UTC