Category Archives: Poetry

My Soul Is Dark

…from the quills of dead white poets Lord Byron (1788 – 1824) My soul is dark – Oh! quickly string The harp I yet can brook to hear; And let thy gentle fingers fling Its melting murmur o’er mine ear. … Continue reading

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Mock on, Mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau

  …from the quills of the dead white poets William Blake (1757 – 1827) Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau: Mock on, mock on: ‘tis all in vain! You throw the sand against the wind, And the wind blows it … Continue reading

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The Grey-Eyed King

  …from the quills of the dead white poets Anna Akhmatova (1889 – 1966) Hail! Hail to thee, o, immovable pain! The young grey-eyed king had been yesterday slain. This autumnal evening was stuffy and red. My husband, returning, had … Continue reading

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To Him That was Crucified

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892)   My spirits to yours dear brother, Do not mind because many sounding your name do not understand you, I do not sound your name, but I … Continue reading

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Švadlenka

…from the quills of the dead white poets František Gellner (1881 -1914) Letní vzduch venku zavoněl prudce. U otevřeného okénka složila znaveně do klína ruce malá, hubená švadlenka. Před sebe v prázdno se zadívala a naslouchala nápěvu, jejž na strunách … Continue reading

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To Rich Givers

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892)   What you give me I cheerfully accept, A little sustenance, a hut and garden, a little money, as I rendezvous with my poems, A traveler’s lodging … Continue reading

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Verše

…from the quills of the dead white poets Karel Toman (1877 – 1946) Kam došli jste kdo? V záři hvězd Pod cizím nebem bloudili jsme spolu, snílkové z jiných dob. Vzpomínám. Střecha má drahá mi jest jak rodná země, jež … Continue reading

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A Dream

…from the quills of the dead white poets Edgar Allan Poe (1809 – 1849) In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed- But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted. Ah! what … Continue reading

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Youth, Day, Old Age and Night

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892)   Youth, large, lusty, loving – youth full of grace, force, fascination, Do you know that Old Age may come after you with equal grace, force, fascination? … Continue reading

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Prosinec

…from the quills of the dead white poets Karel Toman (1877 – 1946) Šla do Betléma rovná cesta, zářila hvězda, všechno bylo prosté. A za nábožných písní sny otců našich věčně putovaly po starém mostě. Byl, nebyl Betlém? Však na … Continue reading

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When I heard the Learn’d Astronomer

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892) When I heard the learn’d astronomer, When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me, When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, … Continue reading

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The White Man’s Burden 1899

…from the quills of dead white poets Rudyard Kipling ( 1865 – 1936) Take up the White man’s burden — Send forth the best ye breed — Go bind your sons to exile To serve your captives’ need; To wait … Continue reading

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The Holy War 1917

…from the quills of the dead white poets Rudyard Kipling (1865 – 1936) “For here lay the excellent wisdom of him that built Mansoul, that the walls could never be broken down nor hurt by the most mighty adverse potentate … Continue reading

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By the waters of Babylon

…from the quills of dead white poets Lord Byron (1788 – 1824) (From “Hebrew Melodies”) In the valley of waters we wept on the day When the host of the Stranger made Salem his prey; And our heads on our bosoms … Continue reading

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Zlé dni

…from the quills of the dead white poets František Gellner (1881 -1914) Před čtrnácti dny, předevčírem, včera, vždy tentýž stav. Proč, nemám tušení. Úzkost mě tiskne hrdlo. Nedůvěra mé smysly svírá v trapném vzrušení. Zní neupřímnost v slovech. Podezřele působí … Continue reading

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The Soldier

…from the quills of the dead white poets Rupert Brooke (1887 – 1915) If I should die, think this of me: That there’s some corner of a foreign field That is forever England. There shall be In that rich earth … Continue reading

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The Portent

…from the quills of the dead white poets Rudyard Kipling (1865 – 1936) 0h, late withdrawn from human-kind And following dreams we never knew! Varus, what dream has Fate assigned To trouble you? Such virtue as commends of law Of … Continue reading

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To a President

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892)   All you are doing and saying is to America dangled mirages, You have not learn’d of Nature – of the politics of Nature You have not … Continue reading

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Snow-flakes

…from the quills of the dead white poets Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 – 1882) Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, … Continue reading

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“The Rhine was red”

…from the quills of the dead white poets William Blake (1757 – 1827) The Rhine was red with humane blood, The Danube roll’d a purple tide, On the Euphrates Satan stood And over Asia stretch’d his pride. He wither’d up … Continue reading

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