Les plus lus ▸
Sir Walter Raleigh
Like truthless dreams, so are my joys expir'd,
And past return are all my dandled days;
My love misled, and fancy quite retir'd--
Of all which pass'd the sorrow only stays.
My lost delights, now clean from sight of land,
Have left me all alone in unknown ways;
My mind to woe, my life in fortune's hand--
Of all which pass'd the sorrow only stays.
As in a country strange, without companion,
I only wail the wrong of death's delays,
Whose sweet spring spent, whose summer well-nigh done--
Of all which pass'd only the sorrow stays.
Whom care forewarns, ere age and winter cold,
To haste me hence to find my fortune's fold.
A sun for myself—
pie of a life I never tasted.
I am captain. I set sail
for the farewell chance.
Having sailed all night,
we come in sight
of a fresh gale
and a good deal.
Great was the shout of guns,
the rattling of guns.
Smoke came,
the captains came.
I wrote to my wife,
drank wine to my wife.
It was in the morning.
We parted this evening.
who sees the world without rags
without imperfection
taking a kind farewell to sad news
who is rich already
with what he saves in sorrow
Let us then, do not lie
Though we lie next to each.
Let us then, do not touch
If our hearts so belie.
Let us then, do not kiss
Bereft of warmth are our lips.
Let not our eyes look at us
Blinds are drawn, the windows dark.
Let us then, do not let love
Fall into a habit like brushing the teeth.
Scatter the past to the rising wind
Like leaves fluttering in the Fall.
Let us then, not pretend to love
No reprimand for not being in love.
Life is a journey not bound on leash,
Let us, my love, now let us leave.
Do you know this feeling?
This feeling of sadness
Sadness when you have to leave
Leave this beautiful island
This beautiful island you fell in love with
But it's not the part that you have to leave
That's not the most hurtful part
No, the saddest part is the knowledge
The knowledge that soon this island will be a memory
A memory that starts to fade
That starts being replaced by other memories
Other memories of other places
Let us walk away then
In steps, measured
In directions, opposite.
But, turn -
At paces twelve
For love is a duel -
And look at each other
For the very last time.
only
one
in
the
whole
world
my
mother
byebye
biology
wake me
before you see the last of me
As I went out a Crow
In a low voice said ‘Oh,
I was looking for you.
How do you do?
I just came to tell you
To tell Lesley (will you?)
That her little Bluebird
Wanted me to bring word
That the north wind last night
That made the stars bright
And made ice on the trough
Almost made him cough
His tail feathers off.
He just had to fly!
But he sent her Good-bye,
And said to be good,
This saying good-bye on the edge of the dark
And the cold to an orchard so young in the bark
Reminds me of all that can happen to harm
An orchard away at the end of the farm
All winter, cut off by a hill from the house.
I don’t want it girdled by rabbit and mouse,
I don’t want it dreamily nibbled for browse
By deer, and I don’t want it budded by grouse.
(If certain it wouldn’t be idle to call
I’d summon grouse, rabbit, and deer to the wall
And warn them away with a stick for a gun.)
I don’t want it stirred by the heat of the sun.
(We made it secure against being, I hope,
By setting it out on a northerly slope.)
No orchard’s the worse for the wintriest storm;
But one thing about it, it mustn’t get warm.
We stood in the shrill electric light,
Dumb and sick in the whirling din
We who had all of love to say
And a single second to say it in.
"Good-by!" "Good-by!"--you turned to go,
I felt the train's slow heavy start,
You thought to see me cry, but oh
My tears were hidden in my heart.