The world has given us great poets whose writings help us understand (or not) our place in the Universe.
I have chosen a few poems which I feel have reached a level of remarkable insight into
Life's own mysteries.
These poems will come from all over the earth.
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COLD IN THE EARTH
by
Emily Bronte
Cold in the earth and the deep snow piled above thee!
Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!
Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee,
Severed at last by Time's all-wearing wave?
Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover
Over the mountains on Angora's shore;
Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover
That noble heart for ever, ever more?
Cold in the earth, and fifteen wild Decembers
From those brown hills have melted into spring--
Faithful indeed is the spirit that remembers
After such years of change and suffering!
+
Sweet Love of youth, forgive if I forget thee
While the World's tide is bearing me along:
Sterner desires and darker hopes beset me,
Hopes which obscure but cannot do thee wrong.
No other Sun has lightened up my heaven.
No other Star has ever shone for me:
All my life's bliss from thy dear life was given--
All my life's bliss is in the grave with thee.
But when the days of golden dreams had perished
And even Despair was powerless to destroy,
Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
Strengthened and fed without the aid of joy.
Then did I check the tears of useless passion,
Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine;
Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten
Down to that tomb already more than mine!
And even then, I dare not let it languish,
Dare not indulge in Memory's rapturous pain;
Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,
How could I seek the empty world again?
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I AM NOT HERE
Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry:
I am not there. I did not die.
Clare Harner Lyon
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EMILY DICKINSON
Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886) was said to have become a recluse.
Her world might have been her village but her vision and independent spirit have given the world some great poetry. She had written 1800 verses only a few of which were published in her lifetime.
EMILY DICKINSON
Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886) was said to have become a recluse.
Her world might have been her village but her vision and independent spirit have given the world some great poetry. She had written 1800 verses only a few of which were published in her lifetime.
***
My life closed twice before its close;
It yet remains to see
if Immortality unveil
A third event to me,
So huge, so hopeless to conceive
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of Heaven,
And all we need of Hell.
1732
***
Soul selects her own society---
then---shuts the Door---
To her divine Majority---
Present no more---
Unmoved---she notes the Chariots---pausing---
At her low Gate---
Unmoved---an Emperor be kneeling
Upon her Mat---
I've known her---from an ample nation---
Choose One---
Then---close the Valves of her attention---
Like Stone---
303
***
After great pain, a formal feeling comes---
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs---
The stiff heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?
The feet, mechanical, go round---
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought---
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone---
This is the Hour of Lead---
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow---
First---Chill---then Stupor---then the letting go---
341
***
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant---
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be Blind---
1129
1732
***
Soul selects her own society---
then---shuts the Door---
To her divine Majority---
Present no more---
Unmoved---she notes the Chariots---pausing---
At her low Gate---
Unmoved---an Emperor be kneeling
Upon her Mat---
I've known her---from an ample nation---
Choose One---
Then---close the Valves of her attention---
Like Stone---
303
***
After great pain, a formal feeling comes---
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs---
The stiff heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?
The feet, mechanical, go round---
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought---
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone---
This is the Hour of Lead---
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow---
First---Chill---then Stupor---then the letting go---
341
***
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant---
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be Blind---
1129
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The Mathematic Principle of Infinity
The Minute
I have only just one minute,
Only sixty seconds in it, -
Forced upon me,
Didn't seek it,
Didn't choose it,
But I must suffer
If I lose it, -
Pay the price if
I abuse it.
Just a tiny little minute,
But...Eternity is in it.
(unknown)
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