"tilth" poems - Hello Poetry

Strengthen these arms for they only exist to hold up the black canopy that is the night sky May these legs find purchase on this expanse of tilth that has received the boon of yesterday's cry Feel the cadence of my skipping heart resulting in the breeze of faltering breaths lulling you as you lie Comfort the tremors of these quivering lips as they whisper forth promises of mysterious galaxies and cryptic nebulae These eyes would cast their gaze; assuming the role of sentry guarding from all who would pry My being... My entirety was put here so that your bed would remain safe from future's winds come silent and sly

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Jun 19, 2015

Jun 19, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC

ryn

Sentry

Strengthen these arms for they only exist to hold up the black canopy that is the night sky May these legs find purchase on this expanse of tilth that has received the boon of yesterday's cry Feel the cadence of my skipping heart resulting in the breeze of faltering breaths lulling you as you lie Comfort the tremors of these quivering lips as they whisper forth promises of mysterious galaxies and cryptic nebulae These eyes would cast their gaze; assuming the role of sentry guarding from all who would pry My being... My entirety was put here so that your bed would remain safe from future's winds come silent and sly

19

Roman Virgil, thou that singest Ilion's lofty temples robed in fire, Ilion falling, Rome arising, wars, and filial faith, and Dido's pyre; Landscape-lover, lord of language more than he that sang the "Works and Days," All the chosen coin of fancy flashing out from many a golden phrase; Thou that singest wheat and woodland, tilth and vineyard, hive and horse and herd; All the charm of all the Muses often flowering in a lonely word; Poet of the happy Tityrus piping underneath his beechen bowers; Poet of the poet-satyr whom the laughing shepherd bound with flowers; Chanter of the Pollio, glorying in the blissful years again to be, Summers of the snakeless meadow, unlaborious earth and oarless sea; Thou that seest Universal Nature moved by Universal Mind; Thou majestic in thy sadness at the doubtful doom of human kind; Light among the vanish'd ages; star that gildest yet this phantom shore; Golden branch amid the shadows, kings and realms that pass to rise no more; Now thy Forum roars no longer, fallen every purple Caesar's dome-- Tho' thine ocean-roll of rhythm sound forever of Imperial Rome-- Now the Rome of slaves hath perish'd, and the Rome of freemen holds her place, I, from out the Northern Island sunder'd once from all the human race, I salute thee, Mantovano, I that loved thee since my day began, Wielder of the stateliest measure ever moulded by the lips of man.

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1.2k

Alfred Lord Tennyson

To Virgil, Written At The Request Of The Manuans For The Nineteenth Centenary Of Virgil's Death

Roman Virgil, thou that singest Ilion's lofty temples robed in fire, Ilion falling, Rome arising, wars, and filial faith, and Dido's pyre; Landscape-lover, lord of language more than he that sang the "Works and Days," All the chosen coin of fancy flashing out from many a golden phrase; Thou that singest wheat and woodland, tilth and vineyard, hive and horse and herd; All the charm of all the Muses often flowering in a lonely word; Poet of the happy Tityrus piping underneath his beechen bowers; Poet of the poet-satyr whom the laughing shepherd bound with flowers; Chanter of the Pollio, glorying in the blissful years again to be, Summers of the snakeless meadow, unlaborious earth and oarless sea; Thou that seest Universal Nature moved by Universal Mind; Thou majestic in thy sadness at the doubtful doom of human kind; Light among the vanish'd ages; star that gildest yet this phantom shore; Golden branch amid the shadows, kings and realms that pass to rise no more; Now thy Forum roars no longer, fallen every purple Caesar's dome-- Tho' thine ocean-roll of rhythm sound forever of Imperial Rome-- Now the Rome of slaves hath perish'd, and the Rome of freemen holds her place, I, from out the Northern Island sunder'd once from all the human race, I salute thee, Mantovano, I that loved thee since my day began, Wielder of the stateliest measure ever moulded by the lips of man.

40

Spike me, To thy cross, I'll taketh thine twinge, I'll taketh thy sin's of loss!!! Tack me, For I'll take thy quills, I'll spill mine crour, For thou shalt be sutured to ourn abode in hidden tilth!!!

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May 31, 2015

May 31, 2015 at 8:23 PM UTC

brandon-nagley

Tilth abode...

Spike me, To thy cross, I'll taketh thine twinge, I'll taketh thy sin's of loss!!! Tack me, For I'll take thy quills, I'll spill mine crour, For thou shalt be sutured to ourn abode in hidden tilth!!!

8