Quotes about surge, page 3
Regret
Long ago I wished to leave
"The house where I was born;"
Long ago I used to grieve,
My home seemed so forlorn.
In other years, its silent rooms
Were filled with haunting fears;
Now, their very memory comes
O'ercharged with tender tears.
Life and marriage I have known.
Things once deemed so bright;
Now, how utterly is flown
Every ray of light!
'Mid the unknown sea, of life
I no blest isle have found;
At last, through all its wild wave's strife,
My bark is homeward bound.
Farewell, dark and rolling deep!
Farewell, foreign shore!
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poem by Charlotte Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
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Regret (1846)
LONG ago I wished to leave
' The house where I was born; '
Long ago I used to grieve,
My home seemed so forlorn.
In other years, its silent rooms
Were filled with haunting fears;
Now, their very memory comes
O'ercharged with tender tears.
Life and marriage I have known,
Things once deemed so bright;
Now, how utterly is flown
Every ray of light !
'Mid the unknown sea of life
I no blest isle have found;
At last, through all its wild wave's strife,
My bark is homeward bound.
Farewell, dark and rolling deep !
Farewell, foreign shore !
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poem by Charlotte Brontë
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When God And I Sang Love Songs
In the beginning was the word and the word wanted me
words many words haunted my days haunted my nights
sleepless nights so tired so tired yet the word wanted me
wanting needing to sleep yet words drove me would not let me be
words lines of verse filling filling my mind time after absorbent time
poems born in the night night visions night words wanting born life
no choice no choice the word commands commanded servant soul writes
hot summer nights sped youth hair dusty blond skin beach burnt brown
wind kissed bronze naked skin sea carried surging soul safe in wave water
salt spray wave spray sea foam wave burst white foam birth born surging
sea surge ocean surge wind wide sea beach breaking over wild soul free
swimming beach sand river tides water pulse washing over through soul
riding out hard fast with death wave laughing life rhythms tide fast run
words nights of words stone dropping given in love to God life codes
biorhythms still life lost thirty minutes hours blink in deep meditations
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Sea and Shore
‘Why do you tear at
My towers and my turrets,
My walls and my pillars
My barrs and my beach;
And mutter like musings
Of untoward poets,
And scatter your silences
Out of my reach? ’
‘Why do you surge and
Assault in your anger
The fortress I built for
My lady asleep,
And slowly dismiss each
Dispute you remember
By wearing each stone
From the base of the Keep? ’
‘What is the torment that
Claws at the crofters,
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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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
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Missing
The boots of clunking time
Kicked us all around this life
But for moments we stood free
On the surge and peaks of dreams
And now here in these dark glens
Where the air seems cold and thin
I wish I wasn’t wishing
I was with them still
The chestnut trees stood tall
By the banks of Inch canal
They were much too tall to fall
Through the branches to the grass
And the loch was icy cold
cold as fear of diving in
but you who knew no fear then
dived completely in
chorus
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poem by Jim Hogg
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The Leap Of Roushan Beg. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fifth)
Mounted on Kyrat strong and fleet,
His chestnut steed with four white feet,
Roushan Beg, called Kurroglou,
Son of the road and bandit chief,
Seeking refuge and relief,
Up the mountain pathway flew.
Such was Kyrat's wondrous speed,
Never yet could any steed
Reach the dust-cloud in his course.
More than maiden, more than wife,
More than gold and next to life
Roushan the Robber loved his horse.
In the land that lies beyond
Erzeroum and Trebizond,
Garden-girt his fortress stood;
Plundered khan, or caravan
Journeying north from Koordistan,
Gave him wealth and wine and food.
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poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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A Voyager's Dream Of Land
His very heart athirst
To gaze at nature in her green array,
Upon the ship's tall side he stands, possess'd
With visions prompted by intense desire;
Fair fields appear below, such as he left
Far distant, such as he would die to find:
He seeks them headlong, and is seen no more. ~ Cowper
The hollow dash of waves!–the ceaseless roar!
Silence, ye billows! vex my soul no more.
There's a spring in the woods by my sunny home,
Afar from the dark sea's tossing foam;
Oh! the fall of that fountain is sweet to hear,
As a song from the shore to the sailor's ear!
And the sparkle which up to the sun it throws,
Thro' the feathery fern and the olive boughs,
And the gleam on its path as it steals away
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poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Prologue To The Argive Women
(Odysseus before the House of Paris.)
OD. About this wicked house ten years
The strife 'twixt Troy and Greece has surged
Since rifling Paris, thief and traitor,
Drew all men to the hue and cry
Menelaus made after him ;
And me, Laertes' son, my lands
And wife and child forsook, he drew
Into the weary insatiable years
Of slaughter, man to man, and Doom
Long-gathered, palsying heart and heart,
And Valour pent in little room—
Ten years abrim, but in this tenth,
Now at the last, within this hour,
To drown the city and the sin
In one great well of blood, hence flooding
Where Paris keeps her his delight,
Soon to prove bane of Troy—and his.
His, for her heart is changed ; she now
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poem by Maurice Hewlett
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Abba Thule's Lament For His Son Prince Le Boo
I climb the highest cliff; I hear the sound
Of dashing waves; I gaze intent around;
I mark the gray cope, and the hollowness
Of heaven, and the great sun, that comes to bless
The isles again; but my long-straining eye,
No speck, no shadow can, far off, descry,
That I might weep tears of delight, and say,
It is the bark that bore my child away!
Sun, that returnest bright, beneath whose eye
The worlds unknown, and out-stretched waters lie,
Dost thou behold him now! On some rude shore,
Around whose crags the cheerless billows roar,
Watching the unwearied surges doth he stand,
And think upon his father's distant land!
Or has his heart forgot, so far away,
These native woods, these rocks, and torrents gray,
The tall bananas whispering to the breeze,
The shores, the sound of these encircling seas,
Heard from his infant days, and the piled heap
Of holy stones, where his forefathers sleep!
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poem by William Lisle Bowles
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