Today I feel very romantic, and therefore I would like to share with you some of my favorite poems.
Frost at Midnight
(Samuel Taylor Coleridge)
The Frost Performs ITS secret ministry,
Unhelped By Any wind. The owlet's cry Came loud
,-and hark, again! loud as before.
The inmates of my cottage, all at rest, Have
left me to that solitude, which suits
Abstruser musings: save that at my side
My cradled infant slumbers peacefully.
'Tis calm indeed! so calm, that it disturbs
And vexes meditation with its strange
And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood,
With all the numberless goings-on of life,
Inaudible as dreams! the thin blue flame
Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not;
Only that film, which fluttered on the grate,
Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing.
Methinks its motion in this hush of nature
Gives it dim sympathies with me who live,
Making it a companionable form,
Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit
By its own moods interprets, every where
Echo or mirror seeking of itself,
And makes a toy of Thought.
But O! how oft,
How oft, at school, with most believing mind,
Presageful, have I gazed upon the bars,
To watch that fluttering stranger! and as oft
With unclosed lids, already had I dreamt
Of my sweet birthplace, and the old church-tower,
Whose bells, the poor man's only music, rang
From morn to evening, all the hot Fair-day,
So sweetly, that they stirred and haunted me
With a wild pleasure, falling on mine ear
Most like articulate sounds of things to come!
So gazed I, till the soothing things, I dreamt,
Lulled me to sleep, and sleep prolonged my dreams!
And so I brooded all the following morn,
Awed by the stern preceptor's face, mine eye
Fixed with mock study on my swimming book:
Save if the door half opened, and I snatched
A hasty glance, and still my heart leaped up,
For still I hoped to see the stranger's face,
Townsman, or aunt, or sister more beloved,
My playmate when we both were clothed alike!
Dear Babe, that sleepest cradled by my side,
Whose gentle breathings, heard in this deep calm,
Fill up the interspersed vacancies
And momentary pauses of the thought!
My babe so beautiful! it thrills my heart
With tender gladness, thus to look at thee,
And think that thou shalt learn far other lore,
And in far other scenes! For I was reared
In the great city, pent mid cloisters dim,
And saw nought lovely but the sky and stars.
But thou, my babe! shalt wander like a breeze
By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags
Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds,
Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores
And mountain crags: so shalt thou see and hear
The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible
Of that eternal language, which thy God
Utters, who from eternity doth teach
Himself in all, and all things in himself.
Great universal Teacher! he shall mould
Thy spirit, and by giving make it ask.
Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry
of frost Shall hang them up in silent icicles, Quietly shining
to the quiet Moon.
(Samuel Taylor Coleridge)
The Frost Performs ITS secret ministry,
Unhelped By Any wind. The owlet's cry Came loud
,-and hark, again! loud as before.
The inmates of my cottage, all at rest, Have
left me to that solitude, which suits
Abstruser musings: save that at my side
My cradled infant slumbers peacefully.
'Tis calm indeed! so calm, that it disturbs
And vexes meditation with its strange
And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood,
With all the numberless goings-on of life,
Inaudible as dreams! the thin blue flame
Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not;
Only that film, which fluttered on the grate,
Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing.
Methinks its motion in this hush of nature
Gives it dim sympathies with me who live,
Making it a companionable form,
Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit
By its own moods interprets, every where
Echo or mirror seeking of itself,
And makes a toy of Thought.
But O! how oft,
How oft, at school, with most believing mind,
Presageful, have I gazed upon the bars,
To watch that fluttering stranger! and as oft
With unclosed lids, already had I dreamt
Of my sweet birthplace, and the old church-tower,
Whose bells, the poor man's only music, rang
From morn to evening, all the hot Fair-day,
So sweetly, that they stirred and haunted me
With a wild pleasure, falling on mine ear
Most like articulate sounds of things to come!
So gazed I, till the soothing things, I dreamt,
Lulled me to sleep, and sleep prolonged my dreams!
And so I brooded all the following morn,
Awed by the stern preceptor's face, mine eye
Fixed with mock study on my swimming book:
Save if the door half opened, and I snatched
A hasty glance, and still my heart leaped up,
For still I hoped to see the stranger's face,
Townsman, or aunt, or sister more beloved,
My playmate when we both were clothed alike!
Dear Babe, that sleepest cradled by my side,
Whose gentle breathings, heard in this deep calm,
Fill up the interspersed vacancies
And momentary pauses of the thought!
My babe so beautiful! it thrills my heart
With tender gladness, thus to look at thee,
And think that thou shalt learn far other lore,
And in far other scenes! For I was reared
In the great city, pent mid cloisters dim,
And saw nought lovely but the sky and stars.
But thou, my babe! shalt wander like a breeze
By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags
Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds,
Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores
And mountain crags: so shalt thou see and hear
The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible
Of that eternal language, which thy God
Utters, who from eternity doth teach
Himself in all, and all things in himself.
Great universal Teacher! he shall mould
Thy spirit, and by giving make it ask.
Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry
of frost Shall hang them up in silent icicles, Quietly shining
to the quiet Moon.
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Frost at Midnight
The Frost officiating his ministry secret
not helped by any wind. The cry of the young owl
made himself the highest - listen again! high as before.
I degenti della mia casa, tutti riposano,
mi hanno lasciato in questa solitudine, che si addice
alle meditazioni più astruse: tranne che al mio fianco
il mio bambino cullato dorme pacifico.
C’è calma davvero! Una calma che disturba
ed irrita la riflessione col suo strano
ed estremo silenzio. Mare, collina e bosco,
questo popoloso villaggio! Mare, e collina, e bosco,
con tutte le innumerevoli cose che continuano a vivere,
muti come sogni! La sottile fiamma blu
giace nel mio fuoco spento, e non guizza;
solo questa pellicola, che svolazza sulla griglia,
ancora svolazza lì, la sola cosa inquieta.
Credo che il suo movimento in questo silenzio della natura
le dia oscure corrispondenze con me che vivo,
facendone una forma amica,
i cui minuscoli battiti e capricci lo Spirito ozioso
interpreta secondo i suoi umori, ovunque
cercando eco o specchio di se stesso,
e fa del pensiero un giocattolo.
Ma Oh! Quanto spesso,
Quante volte, a scuola, con la mente più fiduciosa,
Pieno di presagi guardavo al di sopra delle sbarre
Per vedere lo svolazzante straniero! Quanto spesso
Con le palpebre dischiuse, già avevo sognato
Il mio dolce paese natale, e il vecchio campanile
Le cui campane, suonavano l’unica musica dei poveri
Dalla mattina alla sera, tutta la calda giornata Fiera
So sweetly, that moves me and
obsessed with wild pleasure, falling
in my ear, like articulate sounds of things to come
! So I looked, until the sweet dream,
rocks me to sleep, and sleep prolonged my dreams
rimuginai And so throughout the morning,
Terrified by the stern face of my tutor, my eyes focused
with mock study on My
Handbook swimming
Except when the door half opened, and I
I caught a quick glance, and my heart leaps
As yet I still hope to see the face of the alien
,
fellow townsman, or aunt, sister or loved one
My playmate when both
dressed in the same way!
Dear Child, sleeping in the cot next to me, which I
gentle breaths, heard in this deep calm, Fill the empty interstices
And momentary pauses of the thought!
My baby so beautiful!
touched my heart With tender gladness, and he looked, well
And to think that learning other knowledge,
And in many other scenarios! Since I was reared In the great city
enclosed in dark cloisters,
And I have not seen anything but the sweet sky and the stars.
But you, my child! tramps like a breeze at
lakes and sandy shores, beneath the cracks
of ancient mountains, and below the clouds, their masses
depicting lakes and beaches
And mountain crags: so you see and hear The lovely shapes and sounds
intelligible Of that eternal language, which thy God
pronunciation , who teaches eternity
Himself in all things and all things in himself.
Grandmaster universal! he fogger
Your spirit, and offering the will to ask questions.
Therefore all seasons shall be sweet for you,
When the summer as the whole earth
green, or the robin sings
rests and between clumps of snow on the bare branch Of mossy apple trees
, while the nearby roof paglia
Fuma nel disgelo operato dal sole; oppure le gocce delle grondaie cadono
Udite soltanto nelle trances della raffica,
O se il sacro ministerio del ghiaccio
Li farà pendere in silenziosi ghiaccioli,
che quietamente splendono alla quieta Luna.
not helped by any wind. The cry of the young owl
made himself the highest - listen again! high as before.
I degenti della mia casa, tutti riposano,
mi hanno lasciato in questa solitudine, che si addice
alle meditazioni più astruse: tranne che al mio fianco
il mio bambino cullato dorme pacifico.
C’è calma davvero! Una calma che disturba
ed irrita la riflessione col suo strano
ed estremo silenzio. Mare, collina e bosco,
questo popoloso villaggio! Mare, e collina, e bosco,
con tutte le innumerevoli cose che continuano a vivere,
muti come sogni! La sottile fiamma blu
giace nel mio fuoco spento, e non guizza;
solo questa pellicola, che svolazza sulla griglia,
ancora svolazza lì, la sola cosa inquieta.
Credo che il suo movimento in questo silenzio della natura
le dia oscure corrispondenze con me che vivo,
facendone una forma amica,
i cui minuscoli battiti e capricci lo Spirito ozioso
interpreta secondo i suoi umori, ovunque
cercando eco o specchio di se stesso,
e fa del pensiero un giocattolo.
Ma Oh! Quanto spesso,
Quante volte, a scuola, con la mente più fiduciosa,
Pieno di presagi guardavo al di sopra delle sbarre
Per vedere lo svolazzante straniero! Quanto spesso
Con le palpebre dischiuse, già avevo sognato
Il mio dolce paese natale, e il vecchio campanile
Le cui campane, suonavano l’unica musica dei poveri
Dalla mattina alla sera, tutta la calda giornata Fiera
So sweetly, that moves me and
obsessed with wild pleasure, falling
in my ear, like articulate sounds of things to come
! So I looked, until the sweet dream,
rocks me to sleep, and sleep prolonged my dreams
rimuginai And so throughout the morning,
Terrified by the stern face of my tutor, my eyes focused
with mock study on My
Handbook swimming
Except when the door half opened, and I
I caught a quick glance, and my heart leaps
As yet I still hope to see the face of the alien
,
fellow townsman, or aunt, sister or loved one
My playmate when both
dressed in the same way!
Dear Child, sleeping in the cot next to me, which I
gentle breaths, heard in this deep calm, Fill the empty interstices
And momentary pauses of the thought!
My baby so beautiful!
touched my heart With tender gladness, and he looked, well
And to think that learning other knowledge,
And in many other scenarios! Since I was reared In the great city
enclosed in dark cloisters,
And I have not seen anything but the sweet sky and the stars.
But you, my child! tramps like a breeze at
lakes and sandy shores, beneath the cracks
of ancient mountains, and below the clouds, their masses
depicting lakes and beaches
And mountain crags: so you see and hear The lovely shapes and sounds
intelligible Of that eternal language, which thy God
pronunciation , who teaches eternity
Himself in all things and all things in himself.
Grandmaster universal! he fogger
Your spirit, and offering the will to ask questions.
Therefore all seasons shall be sweet for you,
When the summer as the whole earth
green, or the robin sings
rests and between clumps of snow on the bare branch Of mossy apple trees
, while the nearby roof paglia
Fuma nel disgelo operato dal sole; oppure le gocce delle grondaie cadono
Udite soltanto nelle trances della raffica,
O se il sacro ministerio del ghiaccio
Li farà pendere in silenziosi ghiaccioli,
che quietamente splendono alla quieta Luna.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She walks in beauty
( George G. Byron )
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
...............................
She goes radiant
She goes radiant, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
All the best of dark and the brightness
Meets in her eyes and her eyes softened
So to that tender light
What the pomp of the day denied the sky.
shade the more, one ray the less, they would
Spoiled part of the nameless grace Which waves
on her braid corvina
O softly illuminates her face, Where thoughts
clear and sweet
Pure and reveal the precious home.
on the cheek and o'er that brow,
So sweet, serene but eloquent, The smiles
exciting, bright colors
talk about improving on good days,
of a soul that is at peace with everything here,
a heart that loves innocent!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The mutability
(Percy Bysshe Shelley)
We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;
So restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,
Streaking the darkness radiantly! - Yet soon
the night closes round deletes:
Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings
make any different blast different answer,
To whose frail frame no second motion brings
One mood or modulation like to 'last.
We rest, and a dream has power to poison sleep.
We got up, and a wandering thought pollutes the day.
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep
us cry, or throw our cares away:
è tutto uguale! Sia una gioia o un dolore,
il percorso da compiere dal suo abbandono non si è ancora concluso:
l'ieri dell'uomo non può mai essere simile al domani;
niente nel mondo può durare, eccetto la Mutevolezza
E poi ci sono ancora tante altre (ad es. Il Lago di Lamartine, ect...), e le vostre poesie preferite...?
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