Quotes about homer, page 2
Canto the Seventh
I
O Love! O Glory! what are ye who fly
Around us ever, rarely to alight?
There's not a meteor in the polar sky
Of such transcendent and more fleeting flight.
Chill, and chain'd to cold earth, we lift on high
Our eyes in search of either lovely light;
A thousand and a thousand colours they
Assume, then leave us on our freezing way.
II
And such as they are, such my present tale is,
A non-descript and ever-varying rhyme,
A versified Aurora Borealis,
Which flashes o'er a waste and icy clime.
When we know what all are, we must bewail us,
But ne'ertheless I hope it is no crime
To laugh at all things -- for I wish to know
What, after all, are all things -- but a show?
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
I sound like Homer. I mean Winslow Homer.
quote by Charles Olson
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The author of the Iliad is either Homer or, if not Homer, somebody else of the same name.
quote by Aldous Huxley
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
One of my favorite episodes was the one in which Homer grew hair. That was a very unique episode, since there was a gay secretary, but that wasn't even the issue of the show-the issue was Homer's image changing because he had hair.
quote by Dan Castellaneta
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Mad As The Mist And Snow
Bolt and bar the shutter,
For the foul winds blow:
Our minds are at their best this night,
And I seem to know
That everything outside us is
Mad as the mist and snow.
Horace there by Homer stands,
Plato stands below,
And here is Tully's open page.
How many years ago
Were you and I unlettered lads
Mad as the mist and snow?
You ask what makes me sigh, old friend,
What makes me shudder so?
I shudder and I sigh to think
That even Cicero
And many-minded Homer were
Mad as the mist and snow.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Here now John Keats, I salute you
Some of your poems
were met with contempt
and yet above most
English poets your work rise.
Your words are deep and wise
and sweep past time
in eloquence,
breaking right through history
with magic and imagery
and only after death
your true honour comes.
Now famous are your name
and on first reading
“Chapman’s Homer”
I was convinced
to read Homer’s Iliad and the Odyssey.
Your “La Belle Dame sans Merci”
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Beulah Needs Another Man
Beulah needs another man who'll take
the garbage out at dawn and not
bring it back again at midnight, something
Jasper's done many nights for years.
Beulah knows when Jasper's found
another woman but she never says a word
because Jasper always mows the lawn
and rakes the leaves and fixes
things around the house unlike
Homer who was never handy.
But yesterday the doctor said Jasper has
six months to live so Beulah wants to meet
another handy man at Jasper's wake.
She met Jasper at a wake the day
he dropped the lid on Homer's coffin.
poem by Donal Mahoney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Give Me the Harp of Epic Song
Give me the harp of epic song,
Which Homer's finger thrill'd along;
But tear away the sanguine string,
For war is not the theme I sing.
Proclaim the laws of festal rite,
I'm monarch of the board tonight;
And all around shall brim as high,
And quaff the tide as deep as I!
And when the cluster's mellowing dews
Their warm, enchanting balm infuse,
Our feet shall catch th' elastic bound,
And reel us through the dance's round.
Oh Bacchus! we shall sing to thee,
In wild but sweet ebriety!
And flash around such sparks of thought,
As Bacchus could alone have taught!
Then give the harp of epic song,
Which Homer's finger thrill'd along;
But tear away the sanguine string,
For war is not the theme I sing!
poem by Anacreon
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Soul's Scrolled Role Rolls from Pole Star to Hole Jar
Soul's Scrolled Roles Rolls from Pole Star to Hole Jar
The darkling night's moon mirror rolls along,
spans ocean vast, casts scan on open book
whose leaves, when skimmed by those who care to look,
weave tales which surge surf merge, resurge anon.
On wine lees' seas old Homer sung so strong.
Dwell for a tide, while we abide, life's brook
still flows from source until fate's finger hook -
last call before forgotten fall's doom gong.
Remorse, reflections, [w]hoops of joyful song,
unanswered questions, love's sad tale forsook,
life's challenges that heedless Lethe took,
stay hid, brook neither write nor right, nor wrong.
One night, forgotten, masks more second states,
pearl moon springs pregnant strings for pearly gates.
Previous title Moon Mirror 17 May 2008 robii3_1745_robi3_0000 SXX_NZX - revised 2009
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Summer Rain
My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.
Plutarch was good, and so was Homer too,
Our Shakespeare's life were rich to live again,
What Plutarch read, that was not good nor true,
Nor Shakespeare's books, unless his books were men.
Here while I lie beneath this walnut bough,
What care I for the Greeks or for Troy town,
If juster battles are enacted now
Between the ants upon this hummock's crown?
Bid Homer wait till I the issue learn,
If red or black the gods will favor most,
Or yonder Ajax will the phalanx turn,
Struggling to heave some rock against the host.
[...] Read more
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!