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ProfaneMelodyContemplative

Snowy hills against soft night In backdrop of fair dying light

Stillness conquering bustling life Only does wind's playful fife –

Continue onward as moon roams far Waiting return of morning star

ProfaneMelody

SourceLicence:Public domain (author dedication)

Mood:: Contemplative
Topics:: night, moon, snow, hill

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Snowy hills soft night

In of fair dying light

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ProfaneMelody

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Slumbering in fen's bed of slush Waking up at daybreak's rush Are rising gentle wisps of smoke Coating worlds in dewy cloak As woefully fatal as wondrous fair – In fog's embrace your sight, impaired

In the same mood

Emily Dickinson

The Winters are so short -- I'm hardly justified In sending all the Birds away -- And moving into Pod -- Myself -- for scarcely settled -- The Phoebes have begun -- And then -- it's time to strike my Tent -- And open House -- again -- It's mostly, interruptions -- My Summer -- is despoiled -- Because there was a Winter -- once -- And al the Cattle -- starved -- And so there was a Deluge -- And swept the World away -- But Ararat's a Legend -- now -- And no one credits Noah --

Emily Bronte

How still, how happy!

How still, how happy! Those are words That once would scarce agree together; I loved the plashing of the surge - The changing heaven the breezy weather, More than smooth seas and cloudless skies And solemn, soothing, softened airs That in the forest woke no sighs And from the green spray shook no tears. How still, how happy! now I feel Where silence dwells is sweeter far Than laughing mirth's most joyous swell However pure its raptures are. Come, sit down on this sunny stone: 'Tis wintry light o'er flowerless moors - But sit - for we are all alone And clear expand heaven's breathless shores.

Edward Thomas

What Will They Do?

What will they do when I am gone? It is plain That they will do without me as the rain Can do without the flowers and the grass That profit by it and must perish without. I have but seen them in the loud street pass; And I was naught to them. I turned about To see them disappearing carelessly. But what if I in them as they in me Nourished what has great value and no price? Almost I thought that rain thirsts for a draught Which only in the blossom's chalice lies, Until that one turned back and lightly laughed.

On the same theme

01The Silvery OneJohn Freeman
02GreenD. H. Lawrence
03If You Should GoCountee Cullen

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Snowy hills soft nightIn of fair dying light

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