Quotes about nether, page 5
Composed By The Side Of Grasmere Lake 1806
CLOUDS, lingering yet, extend in solid bars
Through the grey west; and lo! these waters, steeled
By breezeless air to smoothest polish, yield
A vivid repetition of the stars;
Jove, Venus, and the ruddy crest of Mars
Amid his fellows beauteously revealed
At happy distance from earth's groaning field,
Where ruthless mortals wage incessant wars.
Is it a mirror?--or the nether Sphere
Opening to view the abyss in which she feeds
Her own calm fires?--But list! a voice is near;
Great Pan himself low-whispering through the reeds,
'Be thankful, thou; for, if unholy deeds
Ravage the world, tranquillity is here!'
poem by William Wordsworth
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Hermes
Soothsay. Behold, with rod twy-serpented,
Hermes the prophet, twining in one power
The woman with the man. Upon his head
The cloudy cap, wherewith he hath in dower
The cloud's own virtue--change and counterchange,
To show in light, and to withdraw in pall,
As mortal eyes best bear. His lineage strange
From Zeus, Truth's sire, and maiden May--the all-
Illusive Nature. His fledged feet declare
That 'tis the nether self transdeified,
And the thrice-furnaced passions, which do bear
The poet Olympusward. In him allied
Both parents clasp; and from the womb of Nature
Stern Truth takes flesh in shows of lovely feature.
poem by Francis Thompson
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The Beginner
After He Has Been Extemporising On an Instrument Not Of His Own Invention -- Browning
Lo! What is this that I make -- sudden, supreme, unrehearsed --
This that my clutch in the crowd pressed at a venture has raised?
Forward and onward I sprang when I thought (as I ought) I reversed,
And a cab like martagon opes and I sit in the wreckage dazed.
And someone is taking my name, and the driver is rending the air
With cries for my blood and my gold, and a snickering news-boy brings
My cap, wheel-pashed from the kerb. I must run her home for repair,
Where she leers with her bonnet awry--flat on the nether springs!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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For A Virgin And Child By Hans Memmelinck
(In the Academy of Bruges)
MYSTERY: God, man's life, born into man
Of woman. There abideth on her brow
The ended pang of knowledge, the which now
Is calm assured. Since first her task began
She hath known all. What more of anguish than
Endurance oft hath lived through, the whole space
Through night till day, passed weak upon her face
While the heard lapse of darkness slowly ran?
All hath been told her touching her dear Son,
And all shall be accomplished. Where He sits
Even now, a babe, He holds the symbol fruit
Perfect and chosen. Until God permits,
His soul's elect still have the absolute
Harsh nether darkness, and make painful moan.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Sonnet XVII. Composed On A Journey Homeward; The Author Having Received Intelligence Of The Birth Of A Son
Oft o'er my brain does that strange fancy roll
Which makes the present (while the flash dost last)
Seem a mere semblance of some unknown past,
Mixed with such feelings, as perplex the soul
Self-questioned in her sleep: and some have said
We lived ere yet this fleshy robe we wore.
O my sweet Baby! when I reach my door,
If heavy looks should tell me, thou wert dead
(As sometimes, thro' excess of hope, I fear),
I think, that I should struggle to believe
Thou were a Spirit, to this nether sphere
Sentenced for some more venial crime to grieve
Didst scream, then spring to meet Heaven's quick reprieve,
While we wept idly o'er thy little bier.
Sept. 20, 1796.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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A Rocky Road
A ROCKY ROAD
Edward Iacona
My darling sent this quote to me.
She wrote it down in Latin,
A Language that one does not hear
Even in Mid-Town Manhattan.
"Per aspera ad astra."
Means, with loose translation,
"A rough road leads to the stars",
Which I read with fascination.
Our challenge is one of distance
And not one of direction.
We require something more tactile
And not of Astral Projection.
Bureaucracy may blow us,
[...] Read more
poem by Edward Iacona
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I wish
the real gifted
poet thrives
in this world
with words
that have taken up
meaning in the nether world
the realms
heavenly
and the non heavenly
the energised words
run through him
to other hearts
to light up the candles there
brighten up their world
help them
enjoy the
mysterious
elements
of the other worlds, realms
throwing the sparks
[...] Read more
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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For Them That Know Not
the 'Valley of Vision' - the plains of derision
has caught my eye - ripping out my bossom
lay captive my heart - tethering claws
captured my wandering mind - release nether the vagabond
your cup sends me reeling - tumbling venom drenched
a haughty tower trembling - quiver in the cold of night
never again to be rebuilt - ever awash on the shore
two men once hung from a tree - condemnation rife
the one cursed his life upon himself - excluded realities
the other condemned eternally - for him accursed vindication
neither the valley nor in the plain - hope prescribe
did the eye cast its mark - vision bright become
felled by projectile true - delight, darkened demise
a day no one can rue - smite the wanderlust of hope
poem by Frederick Kesner
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The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. February
UNDER THE SPEAKER'S GALLERY
In all the comedy of human things
What is more mirthful than for those, who sit
Far from the great world's vain imaginings,
To mingle in its war of words and wit,
A listener here, when Greek meets Greek, Fox Pitt,
At question--time in the Queen's Parliament?
'Tis the arena of old Rome. Here meet
More than mere Dacians on mere slaughter bent.
Yonder and close to Mr. Speaker's chair,
Enfolding all things in a net of words,
Stands our first gymnast. Let the rest beware.
The Tory Stafford, with voice sweet as bird's,
Shall answer him anon, or bolder borne
And if luck favours, from the nether herds
A voice of patriot wrath shall rise in scorn,
Or even young Cassius blow his windy horn.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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The Silent Tide
I heard Old Ocean raise her voice and cry,
In that still hour between the night and day;
I saw the answering tides, green robed and gray,
Turn to her with a low contented sigh;
Marching with silent feet they passed me by,
For the white moon had taught them to obey,
And scarce a wavelet broke in fretful spray,
As they went forth to kiss the stooping sky.
So, to my heart, when the last sunray sleeps,
And the wan night, impatient for the moon,
Throws her gray mantle over land and sea,
There comes a call from out Life's nether deeps,
And tides, like some old ocean in a swoon,
Flow out, in soundless majesty, to thee.
poem by David MacDonald Ross
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