Quotes about steep, page 5

Spring Pastoral

Liza, go steep your long white hands
In the cool waters of that spring
Which bubbles up through shiny sands
The colour of a wild-dove's wing.

Dabble your hands, and steep them well
Until those nails are pearly white
Now rosier than a laurel bell;
Then come to me at candlelight.

Lay your cold hands across my brows,
And I shall sleep, and I shall dream
Of silver-pointed willow boughs
Dipping their fingers in a stream.

poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Towards Break Of Day

WAS it the double of my dream
The woman that by me lay
Dreamed, or did we halve a dream
Under the first cold gleam of day?
I thought: 'There is a waterfall
Upon Ben Bulben side
That all my childhood counted dear;
Were I to travel far and wide
I could not find a thing so dear.'
My memories had magnified
So many times childish delight.
I would have touched it like a child
But knew my finger could but have touched
Cold stone and water. I grew wild.
Even accusing Heaven because
It had set down among its laws:
Nothing that we love over-much
Is ponderable to our touch.
I dreamed towards break of day,
The cold blown spray in my nostril.

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poem by William Butler Yeats
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Today... 'Despised And Rejected Of Men

'Here is your king.' Pilate said speaking to the Jews
'I can set Him free now it's up to you to choose.'
'Away with Him we will not have rule over us'
was their shout before him as they made a great fuss.

He was a Man despised and rejected by men
scorned and hated by the people around Him then.
A Man of sorrows Who was acquainted with grief
And we hid our faces from Him in unbelief.

He was reviled by all and we esteemed Him not.
A worm handed over to them by a despot.
On His own He climbed up that steep Calvary hill
in His determination to fulfil God's will.

He's rejected by men and forsaken of God.
All alone the steep road through Golgotha He trod.
'My God why have You forsaken Me' was His cry
as upon the cross He bowed down His head to die.

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poem by Roy Allen
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My Play; Poverty's Play

And if poverty whips, largely, torments
In her barefaced snort of withering grievance.
I shall be the one, mannered by Earth's dog-wetness,
To garner my broken possession, murk and bins,
Writhe, clamber steep nigh moister Earth

From foot of lazy deities, pick the sacred mound,
Muzzle it deep against my leaking dereliction birthed
From a heightened helplessness of obligation
And speak the words of preserving ardour
From deities' bossom

As trambled Kola lobe and marooned salt
Earthed for no sprouting in rushing footfalls,
Prickled, insatiate in the belly of oblivion
I shall be the praying yam wholly unearthed
To the feet of a roasting 'adogan'

I shall be the racketeering prey, jostled
Endlessly in poverty's meaning play,

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poem by Oludipe Samuel
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Dithyramb

Believe me, together
The bright gods come ever,
Still as of old;
Scarce see I Bacchus, the giver of joy,
Than comes up fair Eros, the laugh-loving boy,
And Phoebus, the stately, behold!

They come near and nearer,
The heavenly ones all--
The gods with their presence
Fill earth as their hall!

Say, how shall I welcome,
Human and earthborn,
Sons of the sky?
Pour out to me--pour the full life that ye live!
What to ye, O ye gods! can the mortal one give?

The joys can dwell only
In Jupiter's palace--

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poem by Friedrich Schiller
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Ash-Boughs

Not of all my eyes see, wandering on the world,
Is anything a milk to the mind so, so sighs deep
Poetry to it, as a tree whose boughs break in the sky.
Say it is ashboughs: whether on a December day and furled
Fast ór they in clammyish lashtender combs creep
Apart wide and new-nestle at heaven most high.
They touch heaven, tabour on it; how their talons sweep
The smouldering enormous winter welkin! May
Mells blue and snowwhite through them, a fringe and fray
Of greenery: it is old earth’s groping towards the steep
Heaven whom she childs us by.

(Variant from line 7.) b.

They touch, they tabour on it, hover on it[; here, there hurled],
With talons sweep
The smouldering enormous winter welkin. [Eye,

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poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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To The River Arve

Not from the sands or cloven rocks,
Thou rapid Arve! thy waters flow;
Nor earth, within her bosom, locks
Thy dark unfathomed wells below.
Thy springs are in the cloud, thy stream
Begins to move and murmur first
Where ice-peaks feel the noonday beam,
Or rain-storms on the glacier burst.

Born where the thunder and the blast,
And morning's earliest light are born,
Thou rushest swoln, and loud, and fast,
By these low homes, as if in scorn:
Yet humbler springs yield purer waves;
And brighter, glassier streams than thine,
Sent up from earth's unlighted caves,
With heaven's own beam and image shine.

Yet stay; for here are flowers and trees;
Warm rays on cottage roofs are here,

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poem by William Cullen Bryant
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Two Sonnets. To Haydon, With A Sonnet Written On Seeing The Elgin Marbles

I.
Haydon! forgive me that I cannot speak
Definitively of these mighty things;
Forgive me, that I have not eagle's wings,
That what I want I know not where to seek,
And think that I would not be over-meek,
In rolling out upfollowed thunderings,
Even to the steep of Heliconian springs,
Were I of ample strength for such a freak.
Think, too, that all these numbers should be thine;
Whose else? In this who touch thy vesture's hem?
For, when men stared at what was most divine
With brainless idiotism and o'erwise phlegm,
Thou hadst beheld the full Hesperian shine
Of their star in the east, and gone to worship them.

II. On Seeing The Elgin Marbles.

My spirit is too weak - mortality
Weighs heavily upon me like unwilling sleep,

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poem by John Keats
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Rise Through Regrets

This jaded world from role reversal reels,
Harsh judgement passes on deceptions deep.
Exit by bear pursued few locks will keep -
Door closed and shuttered windows soon reveals
Only introspection spirit seals
On dust of love’s rejection which can't weep.
Remorseless fate exacts a price too steep.
Rise through regrets, for surface storm conceals
Events which Cause/Effect invents, spins wheels
Mind's reasons, blind, may challenge, worries sweep,
Offering chance advance, to help heart reap
Victory and tune to future's peal.
Edition new heals smart, stamps vis[t]a’s start.
Dream themes unreels, hope's schemes successful chart.

This world above from role reversing reels,
Harsh judgement passes on deceptions deep.

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Assault Heroic

Down in the mud I lay,
Tired out by my long day
Of five damned days and nights,
Five sleepless days and nights,…
Dream-snatched, and set me where
The dungeon of Despair
Looms over Desolate Sea,
Frowning and threatening me
With aspect high and steep—
A most malignant keep.
My foes that lay within
Shouted and made a din,
Hooted and grinned and cried:
“Today we’ve killed your pride;
Today your ardour ends
We’ve murdered all your friends;
We’ve undermined by stealth
Your happiness and your health.
We’ve taken away your hope;
Now you may droop and mope

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poem by Robert Graves
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