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