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Quotes about surge, page 18

Victor Hugo

A Lament

'O paths whereon wild grasses wave,
O valleys, hillsides, forests hoar!
Why are ye silent as the grave?'
'For one who came, and comes no more!'

'Why is thy window closed of late?
And why thy garden in its sere?
O house! where doth thy master wait?'
'I only know he is not here.'

'Good dog, thou watchest; yet no hand
Will feed thee. In the house is none.
Whom weepest thou, child?' 'My father.' 'And,
O wife! whom weepest thou?' 'The Gone.'

'Where is he gone?' 'Into the dark.'
'O sad and ever-plaining surge!
Whence art thou?' 'From the convict-bark.'
'And why thy mournful voice?' 'A dirge.'

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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XXIV

THE SAME CONTINUED
Give me thy soul, Juliet, give me thy soul!
I am a bitter sea, which drinketh in
The sweetness of all waters, and so thine.
Thou, like a river, pure and swift and full
And freighted with the wealth of many lands,
With hopes, and fears, and death and life, dost roll
Against the troubled ocean of my sin.
Thou doubtest not, though on these desert sands
The billows surge against thee black with brine,
Unwearied. For thy love is fixed and even
And bears thee onward, and thy faith is whole.
Though thou thyself shouldst sin, yet surely Heaven
Hath held thee guiltless and thou art forgiven.

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Through Foulest Fogs

THROUGH foulest fogs of my own sluggish soul,
Through midnight glooms of all the wide world's guilt,
Through sulphurous cannon-clouds that surge and roll
Above the steam of blood in anger spilt;
Through all the sombre earth-oppressing piles
Of old cathedral temples which expand
Sepulchral vaults and monumental aisles,
Hopeless and freezing in the lifeful land;
I gaze and seek with ever-longing eyes
For God, the Love-Supreme, all-wise, all-good:
Alas! in vain; for over all the skies
A dark and awful shadow seems to brood,
A numbing, infinite, eternal gloom:
I tremble in the consciousness of Doom.

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1. The earth talks through you

the land talks through
you, every line on you
resonates with its vibrations

you are the poetry of the
land, mouth through which
the land conveys its senses

the sun talks through
your eyes, they channel
its spirit through to me
a radiant warmth the
ounce of love that rises
in a primordial pool to
surge through my heart

the moon touches me
the way your lingering
mood and nonchalance
speak volume of the other

[...] Read more

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The Assassination

It begins again, the nocturnal pulse.
It courses through the cables laid for it.
It mounts to the chandeliers and beats there, hotly.
We are too close. Too late, we would move back.
We are involved with the surge.

Now it bursts. Now it has been announced.
Now it is being soaked up by newspapers.
Now it is running through the streets.
The crowd has it. The woman selling carnations
And the man in the straw hat stand with it in their shoes.

Here is the red marquee it sheltered under.
Here is the ballroom, here
The sadly various orchestra led
By a single gesture. My arms open.
It enters. Look, we are dancing.

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Voices of Earth

We have not heard the music of the spheres,
The song of star to star, but there are sounds
More deep than human joy and human tears,
That Nature uses in her common rounds;
The fall of streams, the cry of winds that strain
The oak, the roaring of the sea's surge, might
Of thunder breaking afar off, or rain
That falls by minutes in the summer night.
These are the voices of earth's secret soul,
Uttering the mystery from which she came.
To him who hears them grief beyond control,
Or joy inscrutable without a name,
Wakes in his heart thoughts bedded there, impearled,
Before the birth and making of the world.

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Love Sonnet 78: They Say, Red Sunset Skies Predict Clear Day,

They say, red sunset skies predict clear day,
For next morning, and yellow sunrise tells
Of rain, the very day it would display,
But naught they tell how in your heart love dwells;
Do you smile to stoke love's embers burning,
Touch tenderly, affirm affinities,
Or tease the twilight for fiery evening,
And hug so tight to bridge infinities?
As seasons come, then so the year follows,
Waves recede to break back with higher surge,
After the calm, much fiercer wind bellows,
Are there omens for coming storm to splurge?
.....Wisdom is oft denied the common mind,
.....That is, so bliss in innocence they find.

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The Sentence

as you are praying in the altar
i am urinating in the CR
and then you fix the bed
folding the blankets and dusting off the pillows

i stop there for a while
for i have been thinking about dust

you think that i am catering in
to these deadly thoughts

or granting that they are not
why think of rest
when every idea of this world is always labeled
with activity

you run away
that is a good idea connoting always an action
you cry
that 's drama still watched by the masses

[...] Read more

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Battle For Madness

I see it coming
the end before the beginning.
Of dawn.
The midnight call.

Impeachment was fragile.
A satanic cult
overwhelms the freedom
of negation.

Do yoy think we can
move the tree of wisdom
from the altar of ethics
sending shots to the sky.

From the grief of paradoxes
Can you run away? One
moment you exhibit the caked blood.
Next moment it is dark.

[...] Read more

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A Minor Poet

I am a shell. From me you shall not hear
The splendid tramplings of insistent drums,
The orbed gold of the viol's voice that comes,
Heavy with radiance, languorous and clear.
Yet, if you hold me close against the ear,
A dim, far whisper rises clamorously,
The thunderous beat and passion of the sea,
The slow surge of the tides that drown the mere.

Others with subtle hands may pluck the strings,
Making even Love in music audible,
And earth one glory. I am but a shell
That moves, not of itself, and moving sings;
Leaving a fragrance, faint as wine new-shed,
A tremulous murmur from great days long dead.

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