Sunday, July 6, 2014

You Are Tired by E.E. Cummings

You are tired 
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.
Come with me then 
And we'll leave it far and far away-
(Only you and I understand!)

You have played 
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of 
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break and-
Just tired.
So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight 
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart-
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows 
And if you like 
The perfect places of Sleep.

Ah come with me!
I'll blow you that wonderful bubble the moon 
That floats forever and a day;
I'll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream 
Until I find the Only Flower 
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Beauty that Is Never Old by James Weldon Johnson

When buffeted and beaten by life's storms,
When by the bitter cares of life oppressed,
I want no surer haven than your arms,
I want no sweeter heaven than your breast.

When over my life's way there falls the blight
Of sunless days, and nights of starless skies;
Enough for me, the calm and steadfast light
That softly shines within your loving eyes.

The world, for me, and all the world can hold
Is circled by your arms; for me there lies,
Within the lights and shadows of your eyes,
The only beauty that is never old. 

The Other, Too, Is You by Peter Rosegger

What once Earth to me presented 
she's already asking back;
comes to take what she had granted, 
grasping tender speck by speck. 

Strange: the more of hurts I carried 
the more beauty showed the land; 
What I fought for, gains of merit, 
softly falling from my hand. 

And the lighter I am getting, 
the more heavily I walk: 
'Can't you, from your moistened setting, 
spare me, Earth? I beg you, talk!' 

'No, I cannot spare you, Brother, 
need you for the other one; 
out of you I'll feed the other: 
let him also see the sun. 

But relax and do not rue: 
For the Other, too 'tis You!'