Look To This Day by Kalidasa

Look To This Day 
by Kalidasa

Look to this day:
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence.
The bliss of growth,
The glory of action,
The splendour of achievement
Are but experiences of time.

For yesterday is but a dream
And tomorrow is only a vision;
And today well-lived, makes
Yesterday a dream of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well therefore to this day;
Such is the salutation to the ever-new dawn!

Each day is a treasure. A link to read more is here. http://allpoetry.com/Kalidasa

Sonnets from the Portuguese 14: If Thou by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Sonnets from the Portuguese 14: If Thou

BY ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING

If thou must love me, let it be for nought

Except for love's sake only. Do not say

I love her for her smile ... her look ... her way

Of speaking gently, ... for a trick of thought

That falls in well with mine, and certes brought

A sense of pleasant ease on such a day'—

For these things in themselves, Belovèd, may

Be changed, or change for thee,—and love, so wrought,

May be unwrought so. Neither love me for

Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,—

A creature might forget to weep, who bore

Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!

But love me for love's sake, that evermore

Thou may'st love on, through love's eternity.

Well said, sometimes it takes us a while to love for love's sake. A link to read more is here.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Barrett_Browning

Stream of Life by Rabindranth Tagore

Stream of Life

by Rabindranth Tagore

The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day
runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.

It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth
in numberless blades of grass
and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.

It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth
and of death, in ebb and in flow.

I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life.
And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.

Wonderful poem of life, what we are made of. To read more a link is here.http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/may/07/rabindranath-tagore-why-was-he-neglected

The Right Thing by Theodore Roethke

The Right Thing 
by Theodore Roethke


Let others probe the mystery if they can.
Time-harried prisoners of Shall and Will—
The right thing happens to the happy man.

The bird flies out, the bird flies back again;
The hill becomes the valley, and is still;
Let others delve that mystery if they can.

God bless the roots!—Body and soul are one!
The small become the great, the great the small;
The right thing happens to the happy man.

Child of the dark, he can out leap the sun,
His being single, and that being all:
The right thing happens to the happy man.

Or he sits still, a solid figure when
The self-destructive shake the common wall;
Takes to himself what mystery he can,

And, praising change as the slow night comes on,
Wills what he would, surrendering his will
Till mystery is no more: No more he can.
The right thing happens to the happy man.


This is an interesting poem to read again and again. A like to learn more is here. http://allpoetry.com/Theodore_Roethke

Life is a privilege by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Life Is A Privilege

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Life is a privilege. Its youthful days
Shine with the radiance of continuous Mays.
To live, to breathe, to wonder and desire,
To feed with dreams the heart’s perpetual fire,
To thrill with virtuous passions, and to glow
With great ambitions – in one hour to know
The depths and heights of feeling – God! in truth,
How beautiful, how beautiful is youth!

Life is a privilege. Like some rare rose
The mysteries of the human mind unclose.
What marvels lie in the earth, and air, and sea!
What stores of knowledge wait our opening key!
What sunny roads of happiness lead out
Beyond the realms of indolence and doubt!
And what large pleasures smile upon and bless
The busy avenues of usefulness!

Life is a privilege. Thought the noontide fades
And shadows fall along the winding glades,
Though joy-blooms wither in the autumn air,
Yet the sweet scent of sympathy is there.
Pale sorrow leads us closer to our kind,
And in the serious hours of life we find
Depths in the souls of men which lend new worth
And majesty to this brief span of earth.

Life is a privilege. If some sad fate
Sends us alone to seek the exit gate,
If men forsake us and as shadows fall,
Still does the supreme privilege of all
Come in that reaching upward of the soul
To find the welcoming Presence at the goal,
And in the Knowledge that our feet have trod
Paths that led from, and must wind back, to God.

Great message and rhyme is wonderful. A link to learn more is here. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ella_Wheeler_Wilcox

Sonnet XV: When I consider everything that grows by William Shakespeare

Sonnet XV: When I Consider everything that grows

by William Shakespeare

When I consider everything that grows

Holds in perfection but a little moment,

That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows

Whereon the stars in secret influence comment;

When I perceive that men as plants increase,

Cheered and check'd even by the selfsame sky,

Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,

And wear their brave state out of memory;

Then the conceit of this inconstant stay

Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,

Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay

To change your day of youth to sullied night;

And all in war with Time for love of you,

As he takes from you, I engraft you new.

Timeless poetry. A link to read more is here.http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/122

Poetry by Pablo Neruda

Poetry
by Pablo Neruda


And it was at that age… Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.




Amazing poem on inspiration. To read more a link is here. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pablo_Neruda

Song of Aragorn by JRR Tolkien

Song of Aragorn 
by JRR Tolkien


All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.




From the Merchant of Venice the Prince of Morocco
by William Shakespeare


All that glisters is not gold;Often have you heard that told:Many a man his life hath soldBut my outside to behold:Gilded tombs do worms enfold.Had you been as wise as bold,Young in limbs, in judgement oldYour answer had not been inscroll'dFare you well, your suit is cold.


Written centuries apart but share a common idea. A link is here to learn more. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._R._R._Tolkien

The Answer by Robinson Jeffers

The Answer 

by Robinson Jeffers

Then what is the answer?—Not to be deluded by dreams.

To know the great civilizations have broken down into violence, and their tyrants come, many times before.

When open violence appears, to avoid it with honor or choose the least ugly faction; these evils are essential.

To keep one’s own integrity, be merciful and uncorrupted and not wish for evil; and not be duped

By dreams of universal justice or happiness. These dreams will not be fulfilled.

To know this, and know that however ugly the parts appear the whole remains beautiful. A severed hand

Is an ugly thing, and man dissevered from the earth and stars and his history...for contemplation or in fact...

Often appears atrociously ugly. Integrity is wholeness, the greatest beauty is

Organic wholeness, the wholeness of life and things, the divine beauty of the universe. Love that, not man

Apart from that, or else you will share man’s pitiful confusions, or drown in despair when his days darken.

Timeless words that need to be passed on and remembered. A link to learn more is here. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/robinson-jeffers

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.   

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

One of the best poems ever. Quiet and thoughtful. A link to read more is here. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/robert-frost

Give Me Strength by Rabindranath Tagore

Give Me Strength 
by Rabindranath Tagore




This is my prayer to thee, my lord—-strike,
strike at the root of penury in my heart.

Give me the strength lightly to bear my joys and sorrows.

Give me the strength to make my love fruitful in service.

Give me the strength never to disown the poor or bend my knees before insolent might.

Give me the strength to raise my mind high above daily trifles.

And give me the strength to surrender my strength to thy will with love.




Spiritual poetry is special and meaningful. A link to learn more is here. http://allpoetry.com/Rabindranath_Tagore

i carry your heart with me by e e cummings

i carry your heart with me 
by e e cummings


i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
                                  i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)


There is a beautiful simplicity to this poem. One that never has grown old. A link to read more is here. http://allpoetry.com/e_e_cummings, I wanted to add another link that talks about this poets spirituality. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/E._E._Cummings

The Wine of Love by James Thomson

The Wine of Love

BY JAMES THOMSON

The wine of Love is music,

   And the feast of Love is song:

And when Love sits down to the banquet,

   Love sits long:

Sits long and ariseth drunken,

   But not with the feast and the wine;

He reeleth with his own heart,

   That great rich Vine.

This is great, love entwines. A link to learn more is here. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/james-thomson

Let the Light Enter by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Let the Light Enter

BY FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER

    The Dying Words of Goethe

“Light! more light! the shadows deepen,

        And my life is ebbing low,

Throw the windows widely open:

        Light! more light! before I go.

“Softly let the balmy sunshine

        Play around my dying bed,

E’er the dimly lighted valley

        I with lonely feet must tread.

“Light! more light! for Death is weaving

        Shadows ‘round my waning sight,

And I fain would gaze upon him

        Through a stream of earthly light.”

Not for greater gifts of genius;

        Not for thoughts more grandly bright,

All the dying poet whispers

        Is a prayer for light, more light.

Heeds he not the gathered laurels,

        Fading slowly from his sight;

All the poet’s aspirations

        Centre in that prayer for light.

Gracious Saviour, when life’s day-dreams

        Melt and vanish from the sight,

May our dim and longing vision

        Then be blessed with light, more light.

Reminds me of the light of inspiration.  Wonderful old poem. A link to read more is here. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/frances-ellen-watkins-harper

Cultivo Una Rosa Blanca by Jose Marti

Cultivo Una Rosa Blanca
by Jose Marti

I cultivate a white rose
In July as in January
For the sincere friend
Who gives me his hand frankly
And for the cruel person who tears
out the heart with which I live,
I cultivate neither nettles nor thorns:
I cultivate a white rose

I aspire to this but sometimes fall short. Wonderful old poem that is still relevant today. A link to read more is here. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/José_Mart%C3%AD

On Looking Up By Chance At The Constellations by Robert Frost

On Looking Up By Chance At The Constellations
by Robert Frost


You'll wait a long, long time for anything much
To happen in heaven beyond the floats of cloud
And the Northern Lights that run like tingling nerves.
The sun and moon get crossed, but they never touch,
Nor strike out fire from each other nor crash out loud.
The planets seem to interfere in their curves -
But nothing ever happens, no harm is done.
We may as well go patiently on with our life,
And look elsewhere than to stars and moon and sun
For the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane.
It is true the longest drought will end in rain,
The longest peace in China will end in strife.
Still it wouldn't reward the watcher to stay awake
In hopes of seeing the calm of heaven break
On his particular time and personal sight.
That calm seems certainly safe to last to-night.


A master of imagery, line three is a favorite of mine. A link to read more is here.http://allpoetry.com/Robert_Frost

Immortal Sails by Alfred Noyes

Immortal Sails

BY ALFRED NOYES

Now, in a breath, we’ll burst those gates of gold,   

   And ransack heaven before our moment fails.   

Now, in a breath, before we, too, grow old,

   We’ll mount and sing and spread immortal sails.

It is not time that makes eternity.

   Love and an hour may quite out-span the years,   

And give us more to hear and more to see   

   Than life can wash away with all its tears.

Dear, when we part, at last, that sunset sky

   Shall not be touched with deeper hues than this;   

But we shall ride the lightning ere we die

   And seize our brief infinitude of bliss,

With time to spare for all that heaven can tell,   

While eyes meet eyes, and look their last farewell.

Great poem on the brevity of life. A link to read more is here. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/alfred-noyes

Prairie Waters by Night by Carl Sandburg

Prairie Waters by Night
by Carl Sandburg




Chatter of birds two by two raises a night song joining a litany of running water—sheer waters
showing the russet of old stones remembering many rains.

And the long willows drowse on the shoulders of the running water, and sleep from much music;
joined songs of day-end, feathery throats and stony waters, in a choir chanting new psalms.

It is too much for the long willows when low laughter of a red moon comes down; and the willows
drowse and sleep on the shoulders of the running water




Reading this I want to lay down and look at the stars. A link to read more is here.http://allpoetry.com/Carl_Sandburg

Evening by H.D.

Evening

BY H. D.

The light passes

from ridge to ridge,

from flower to flower—

the hepaticas, wide-spread

under the light

grow faint—

the petals reach inward,

the blue tips bend

toward the bluer heart

and the flowers are lost.

The cornel-buds are still white,

but shadows dart

from the cornel-roots—

black creeps from root to root,

each leaf

cuts another leaf on the grass,

shadow seeks shadow,

then both leaf

and leaf-shadow are lost.

Descriptive, but, reading the words it seems more. Lovely. A link is here to read more. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/h-d

A Psalm of Life by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A Psalm of Life

BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist.

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

   Life is but an empty dream!

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

   And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

   And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

   Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

   Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each to-morrow

   Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

   And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

   Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,

   In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

   Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!

   Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act,— act in the living Present!

   Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

   We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

   Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,

   Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

   Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

   With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

   Learn to labor and to wait.

We never die until we lay down and quit. A link to learn more is here. http://www.hwlongfellow.org/poems_front.php

Fate by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Fate

BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON

That you are fair or wise is vain,

Or strong, or rich, or generous;

You must have also the untaught strain

That sheds beauty on the rose.

There is a melody born of melody,

Which melts the world into a sea:

Toil could never compass it;

Art its height could never hit;

It came never out of wit;

But a music music-born

Well may Jove and Juno scorn.

Thy beauty, if it lack the fire

Which drives me mad with sweet desire,

What boots it? what the soldier's mail,

Unless he conquer and prevail?

What all the goods thy pride which lift,

If thou pine for another's gift?

Alas! that one is born in blight,

Victim of perpetual slight:

When thou lookest on his face,

Thy heart saith, "Brother, go thy ways!

None shall ask thee what thou doest,

Or care a rush for what thou knowest,

Or listen when thou repliest,

Or remember where thou liest,

Or how thy supper is sodden;"

And another is born

To make the sun forgotten.

Surely he carries a talisman

Under his tongue;

Broad are his shoulders, and strong;

And his eye is scornful,

Threatening, and young.

I hold it of little matter

Whether your jewel be of pure water,

A rose diamond or a white,

But whether it dazzle me with light.

I care not how you are dressed,

In the coarsest or in the best;

Nor whether your name is base or brave;

Nor for the fashion of your behavior;

But whether you charm me,

Bid my bread feed and my fire warm me,

And dress up Nature in your favor.

One thing is forever good;

That one thing is Success, —

Dear to the Eumenides,

And to all the heavenly brood.

Who bides at home, nor looks abroad,

Carries the eagles, and masters the sword.

Such smart, wise words. A link to learn more is here. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/ralph-waldo-emerson