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Contemplative, Elizabeth von Schonberg, in English Clear filters

ContemplativeElizabeth von Schonberg

The Tide

The strong waves thunder on the beach, Each blue arch breaking on the sand Reminding us that circumstance Moves steadily on sea—or land. And when the tide has turned again Debris is often stranded there, Thru dreary nights and torrid days Forgotten—scattered everywhere. The hours pass—in unison Swings sun and moon and swelling tide The rolling rhythm beats again With fast returning strength and pride In ebb and flow another sea: The waves of life beat on the shore Of every heart and float at last Flotsam with treasure at its core!
ContemplativeElizabeth von Schonberg

Silence

Today it seemed As tho' I walked Kneedeep in prayer, As one may tread Thru summer grass, Yet everywhere The silence grew. No winging words Mute lips did part. The hush of noon Lay on the land That is my heart.
ContemplativeElizabeth von Schonberg

December

The year is tired—weight of days Seems long, and hours lost in ways That grieve its spirit, nor allays The secret dread. Waiting now while chill winds blow, Glad to rest, beneath the snow Called to hush the days that go To well earn'd rest. At the young year's feet you cast Wisdom gained—is danger past? Surely we may hope at last For days more fair? Rest then, weary burden'd year We have shared your every fear And yet feel the goal is near— The die is cast!
ContemplativeElizabeth von Schonberg

Portrait of a Lady

A spray of creamy bloom against her gown Of softest black as deep as midnight skies. It drew my glance as beauty ever does, And then I saw the radiance of her eyes. Courage lay there; understanding, peace As of a brook that danced into release And came at last to rest, content to be A center from which flowed serenity And strength; the will to be and do. I thought how much alike they were—they two, She and the spray she wore with so much grace— Reflecting there, the sweetness of her face!
ContemplativeElizabeth von Schonberg

Inspiration

Today I had a strange experience— And yet I feel it is a common one: I felt a song so very beautiful It left me stricken—I was blind and dumb, And strained my inner ear to catch some word ... One arm was mutely flung across my face Lest some fragment of breath might shatter there The precious fabric in that holy place! Still as the pools that in the forest wait To catch reflection of a star—too late To hold the magic of its radiant light Within some dim and lonely depth at night, Trembling, from one blanched cheek I brushed a tear. A gentle whisper then I seemed to hear: "To hear a song, see beauty, this is well; To feel it, leaves a mark indelible."
ContemplativeElizabeth von Schonberg

Old Wine

When we sat down to dinner Last night we wished that you Were sitting here beside us, And yet I feel you knew That when we filled our glasses With that rare golden wine, 'Twas friendship we were tasting This bond of "yours" and "mine." Not many words were spoken, But in each other's eyes We paid you silent tribute, Drank to unbroken ties ... So much the years have taught us, Came test and change, and we Drank of life's cup too deeply To drink THIS carelessly!
ContemplativeElizabeth von Schonberg

Sculpture

A funny little block of stone once stood Around,—it might have been but clay or wood So nondescript its value; no one could Have deemed it fair. Chisels in careless hands there—passing by, Struck blindly—tell me, can cold marble cry?— Not with malice but indifference—why Did blades cut deep? Sometimes the touch of gentle hands would bring A rounding curve—tell me, can marble sing?— And all the bitterness of years take wing When beauty calls? A statue there was hidden all the while! Did chance give it the charms that so beguile, For on its face is carved the strangest smile— I wonder why? . . .

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