Quotes about mont
Le mont
Ce mont,
Avec son ombre prosternée,
Au clair de lune, devant lui,
Règne, infiniment, la nuit,
Tragique et lourd, sur la campagne lasse.
Par les carreaux de leurs fenêtres basses,
Les chaumières pauvres et vieilles
De loin en loin, comme des gens, surveillent.
Aux pieds de leurs digues en terre,
Les clos ont peur du colossal mystère
Que recèle le mont,
Lorsqu'il règne, toute la nuit,
Avec son ombre prosternée,
En prière, devant lui.
Sous les rochers qu'il accumule,
S'élabore la vie énorme et minuscule
Des atomes et des poussières.
Les fers, les plombs, les ors, les pierres
[...] Read more
poem by Emile Verhaeren
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My Tale: A la banquette, or a Modern Pilgrimage
I stayed at La Quenille, ten miles or more
From the old-Roman sources of Mont Dore;
Travellers to Tulle this way are forced to go,
An old high-road from Lyons to Bordeaux,
From Tulle to Brives the swift Corrèze descends,
At Brives you’ve railway, and your trouble ends;
A little bourg La Quenille; from the height
The mountains of Auvergne are all in sight;
Green pastoral heights that once in lava flowed,
Of primal fire the product and abode;
And all the plateaux and the lines that trace
Where in deep dells the waters find their place;
Far to the south above the lofty plain,
The Plomb du Cantal lifts his towering train.
A little after one, with little fail,
Down drove the diligence that bears the mail;
The courier therefore called, in whose banquette
A place I got, and thankful was to get;
The new postillion climbed his seat, allez,
Off broke the four cart-horses on their way.
[...] Read more
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough from Mari Magno or Tales on Board
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Marvoil
A poor clerk I, 'Arnaut the less' they call me,
And because I have small mind to sit
Day long, long day cooped on a stool
A-jumbling o' figures for Maitre Jacques Polin,
I ha' taken to rambling the South here.
The Vicomte of Beziers's not such a bad lot.
I made rimes to his lady this three year:
Vers and canzone, till that damn'd son of Aragon,
Alfonso the half-bald, took to hanging
His helmet at Beziers.
Then came what might come, to wit: three men and one woman,
Beziers off at Mont-Ausier, I and his lady
Singing the stars in the turrets of Beziers,
And one lean Aragonese cursing the seneschal
To the end that you see, friends:
Aragon cursing in Aragon, Beziers busy at Beziers
Bored to an inch of extinction,
Tibors all tongue and temper at Mont-Ausier,
[...] Read more
poem by Ezra Pound
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A Granville, en 1836
Voici juin. Le moineau raille
Dans les champs les amoureux ;
Le rossignol de muraille
Chante dans son nid pierreux.
Les herbes et les branchages,
Pleins de soupirs et d'abois,
Font de charmants rabâchages
Dans la profondeur des bois.
La grive et la tourterelle
Prolongent, dans les nids sourds,
La ravissante querelle
Des baisers et des amours.
Sous les treilles de la plaine,
Dans l'antre où verdit l'osier,
Virgile enivre Silène,
Et Rabelais Grandgousier.
[...] Read more
poem by Victor Hugo
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Dicté en présence du glacier du Rhône
Causa tangor ab omni.
Ovide
Souvent, quand mon esprit riche en métamorphoses
Flotte et roule endormi sur l'océan des choses,
Dieu, foyer du vrai jour qui ne luit point aux yeux,
Mystérieux soleil dont l'âme est embrasée,
Le frappe d'un rayon, et, comme une rosée,
Le ramasse et l'enlève aux cieux.
Alors, nuage errant, ma haute poésie
Vole capricieuse et sans route choisie,
De l'occident au sud, du nord à l'orient ;
Et regarde, du haut des radieuses voûtes,
Les cités de la terre, et, les dédaignant toutes,
Leur jette son ombre en fuyant.
Puis, dans l'or du matin luisant comme une étoile,
Tantôt elle y découpe une frange à son voile,
[...] Read more
poem by Victor Hugo
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The Habitants Summer
O, who can blame de winter, never min'
de hard he 's blowin'
'Cos w'en de tam is comin' for passin' on
hees roun'
De firse t'ing he was doin' is start de sky a
snowin'
An' mak' de nice w'ite blanket, for cover up
de groun' .
An' de groun' she go a'sleepin' t'roo all de
stormy season,
Restin' from her work las' summer, till she 's
waken by the rain
Dat le bon Dieu sen' some morning, an' of
course dat 's be de reason
Ev'ry year de groun' she 's lookin' jus' as
fresh an' young again.
Den you geev her leetle sunshine, w'en de snow
go off an' leave her
[...] Read more
poem by William Henry Drummond
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Happy as the Cock
HAPPY AS THE COCK
Happy proud rooster who has travelled far
Across life's stream with hens in indian file,
Preened white, red comb, and walked the gangplank trial
Penned in terse lines that verse bright humour's star.
Yearning for home, who roamed, to pen they are,
Assured of rest, returning, strut in style,
Say best nest eggs they'll lay, loud crow awhile.
Triumphant cock-a-doodle echoes jar
Hard-hearted humans who aren't up to par,
Eggs daily may not lay, nor soar mobile,
Current carried, fair through air agile,
Or cluck like duck to woodchuck. Men, bizarre,
Chuckle they are born to lead, indeed
Know not lead rots hot head, heads for poor breed!
Parody Joachim du Bellay 1515_1560 – Heureux qui comme Ulysse
and CHICKEN CROSSINGS
robi03_0893_bell02_0003 PFW_JNM
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Mon Frere Camille
Mon frere Camille he was first class blood
W'en he come off de State las' fall,
Wearin' hees boot a la mode box toe
An' diamon' pin on hees shirt also
Sam' as dem feller on Chi-caw-go;
But now he 's no blood at all,
Camille, mon frere.
W'at 's makin' dat change on mon frere
Camille?
Wall! lissen for minute or two,
An' I 'll try feex it up on de leetle song
Dat 's geevin' some chance kin' o' help it
along
So wedder I'm right or wedder I'm wrong
You 'll know all about heem w'en I get
t'roo,
Mon frere Camille.
He never sen' leter for t' orteen year
[...] Read more
poem by William Henry Drummond
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Mont Blanc: Lines Written in the Vale of Chamouni
I
The everlasting universe of things
Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves,
Now dark--now glittering--now reflecting gloom--
Now lending splendour, where from secret springs
The source of human thought its tribute brings
Of waters--with a sound but half its own,
Such as a feeble brook will oft assume,
In the wild woods, among the mountains lone,
Where waterfalls around it leap for ever,
Where woods and winds contend, and a vast river
Over its rocks ceaselessly bursts and raves.
II
Thus thou, Ravine of Arve--dark, deep Ravine--
Thou many-colour'd, many-voiced vale,
Over whose pines, and crags, and caverns sail
Fast cloud-shadows and sunbeams: awful scene,
Where Power in likeness of the Arve comes down
From the ice-gulfs that gird his secret throne,
[...] Read more
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Belles Of Paris
Bells are ringing, soul of france
Bells are singing of romance
Cest tres jolie en paris in the spring
Watching all the lovers walk along the seine
Pitch a penny in her like a wishing well
Feed the pigeons in the park near tour-eifelle
Bells are ringing, soul of france
Bells are singing of romance
Theres a chapel sacre coure in quaint montmarte
In the open air the painters show their art
In the restaurant sip a beaujolies
What a perfect way to spend a lovely day
Bells are ringing, soul of france
Bells are singing of romance
Sunday morning, hear the bells of notre dame
Watching belles jeunes filles and the handsome gendarmes
Near the arc de triomphe on the champs-elysees
Coffee and croissants in a sidewalk cafe
Some people go to see the races at deauville
Or weekend by the racing tides of mont san michelle
[...] Read more
song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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