Support us!
SEE ALL TAGS & MOODS
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,
Before high-pilèd books, in charactery,
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
Jenny kissed me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high,
And many an eye has danced to see
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
If but some vengeful god would call to me
From up the sky, and laugh: “Thou suffering thing,
Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy,
Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
I
The winter evening settles down
With smell of steaks in passageways.
O quam te memorem virgo...
Stand on the highest pavement of the stair —
Lean on a garden urn —
There are no stars tonight
But those of memory.
Yet how much room for memory there is
So, we’ll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,