Quotes about sable, page 15
Le Bassin noir
Laisse le Printemps rire en sa gaine de pierre
Et l’Hiver qui sanglote au socle où il est pris
Jusqu’au torse, et l’Été, grave en ses nœuds fleuris,
Près de l’Automne nu qui s’empampre et s’enlierre ;
Laisse la rose double et la rose trémière
Et l’allée à dessins de sable jaune et gris
Et l’écho qui répond au rire que tu ris,
Et viens te regarder dans une eau singulière.
Elle occupe un bassin ovale et circonspecte ;
Nulle plume d’oiseau et nulle aile d’insecte
Ne raie en le frôlant l’ébène du miroir,
Et, de sa transparence où sommeillent des ors,
Tu verrais émerger d’entre son cristal noir
Le Silence à mi-voix et l’Amour à mi-corps !
poem by Henri de Regnier
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I Married
Journeyed I the distances long,
Through the region trackless,
Breathed and inhaled sand hot,
Without taking rest or respite;
Kept in the eyes a single face,
The destined aim to be attained,
And pursued it place to place,
While hovered upon my head,
Sable death like the dark clouds.
The hot winds tore my breast,
Scalded and lacerated the seat
Of thoughts and emotions pure,
Like the round ripe cotton balls,
Gurgled nothing but fluid of love,
The only sin my heart contained.
I remained behind astray all alone,
Entangled myself in the puzzling
Valley of love and sat forlorn amid
[...] Read more
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Pluie
Il pleut. J'entends le bruit égal des eaux ;
Le feuillage, humble et que nul vent ne berce,
Se penche et brille en pleurant sous l'averse ;
Le deuil de l'air afflige les oiseaux.
La bourbe monte et trouble la fontaine,
Et le sentier montre à nu ses cailloux.
Le sable fume, embaume et devient roux ;
L'onde à grands flots le sillonne et l'entraîne.
Tout l'horizon n'est qu'un blême rideau ;
La vitre tinte et ruisselle de gouttes ;
Sur le pavé sonore et bleu des routes
Il saute et luit des étincelles d'eau.
Le long d'un mur, un chien morne à leur piste,
Trottent, mouillés, de grands boeufs en retard ;
La terre est boue et le ciel est brouillard ;
L'homme s'ennuie : oh ! que la pluie est triste !
poem by Rene Francois Armand Prudhomme
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Miracles
Each time that I switch on the light
A Miracle it seems to me
That I should rediscover sight
And banish dark so utterly.
One moment I am bleakly blind,
The next--exultant life I find.
Below the sable of the sky
My eyelids double darkness make.
Sleep is divine, yet oh how I
Am glad with wonder to awake!
To welcome, glimmery and wan
The mighty Miracle of Dawn.
For I've mad moments when I seem,
With all the marvel of a child,
To dwell within a world of dream,
To sober fact unreconciled.
Each simple act has struck me thus--
Incredibly miraculous.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert William Service
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The Old Man's Farewell
Farewell, my pilgrim guest, farewell,
A few days since thou wert unknown,
None shall thy future fortunes tell,
But sweetly have the moments flown!
And kindness, like the sun on flowers,
Soon chas'd away thy tender gloom;
New-fledg'd the sable-pinion'd hours,
And wove bright tints in Fancy's loom.
We sought no secrets to divine,
Neither thy name nor lineage knew,
Our hearts alone have question'd thine,
And found that all was just and true.
Pass not with hasty step, I pray,
Across the threshold of my door!
But pause awhile, with kind delay,
We shall behold thy face no more!
[...] Read more
poem by Matilda Betham
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The train dogs
Out of the night and the north;
Savage of breed and of bone,
Shaggy and swift comes the yelping band,
Freighters of fur from the voiceless land
That sleeps in the Arctic zone.
Laden with skins from the north,
Beaver and bear and raccoon,
Marten and mink from the polar belts,
Otter and ermine and sable pelts--
The spoils of the hunter's moon.
Out of the night and the north,
Sinewy, fearless and fleet,
Urging the pack through the pathless snow,
The Indian driver, calling low,
Follows with moccasined feet.
Ships of the night and the north,
Freighters on prairies and plains,
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poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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A Dirge For McPherson
Arms reversed and banners creped -
Muffled drums;
Snowy horses sable-draped -
McPherson comes.
But, tell us, shall we know him more,
Lost-Mountain and lone Kenesaw?
Brave the sword upon the pall -
A gleam in gloom;
So a bright name lighteth all
McPherson's doom.
Bear him through the chapel-door -
Let priest in stole
Pace before the warrior
Who led. Bell -toll!
Lay him down within the nave,
The lesson read -
[...] Read more
poem by Herman Melville
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Morrow's Angel
Slender figure draped dourly in sable
perched in awkwardness
Casting forth triste laden crystals to the ebb
of the morning tide
True vision of benevolent spende, r hidden beneath
the cold grey veil of melancholy
Sunshines ray's dancing joyfully upon dark,
rich, aurburn locks
Emerald colored eyes tainted bye salted tears
blazed by fury
Oh morrow's angel break free from your spintered pillory
grace this day with your smile
Heed no longer the profane taunts of demons
serving lugubriousness
[...] Read more
poem by Mark Crane
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My African Damsel
Skin shimmering of molten ivory
Scorching in Ra's immovable gaze
As bountiful locks flow to Amun's whispers of sweet nothings
In copper's opulence of a zesty auburn patina
Tantalizing curves of a Rhodesian ridgeback
A spectacular heritage of an imperial Grevy zebra
Proudly sporting her colonial stripes and her Zulu roots
Yet bearing an unscathed legacy, the poise of an Ethiopian wolf
Absent of feudal conquests, toil's buxom union with hemorrhagic outpour
As love's enduring labor shunned alcoves of segregation
For white man's seed to be sown on sable soil
As she, an African princess, matured like a diamond in a mine
To sprout in the savannahs of my psyche
As she dances to the Congo beats of my heart
My breathtaking beauty, my African damsel
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Poem 18
NOw welcome night, thou night so long expected,
that long daies labour doest at last defray,
And all my cares, which cruell loue collected,
Hast sumd in one, and cancelled for aye:
Spread thy broad wing ouer my loue and me,
that no man may vs see,
And in thy sable mantle vs enwrap,
>From feare of perrill and foule horror free.
Let no false treason seeke vs to entrap,
Nor any dread disquiet once annoy
the safety of our ioy:
But let the night be calme and quietsome,
Without tempestuous storms or sad afray:
Lyke as when Ioue with fayre Alcmena lay,
When he begot the great Tirynthian groome:
Or lyke as when he with thy selfe did lie,
And begot Maiesty.
And let the mayds and yongmen cease to sing:
Ne let the woods them answer, nor theyr eccho ring.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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