Home ⇒ 📌Coventry Patmore ⇒ The Spirit's Depths
The Spirit's Depths
Not in the crisis of events
Of compass’d hopes, or fears fulfill’d,
Or acts of gravest consequence,
Are life’s delight and depth reveal’d.
The day of days was not the day;
That went before, or was postponed;
The night Death took our lamp away
Was not the night on which we groan’d.
I drew my bride, beneath the moon,
Across my threshold; happy hour!
But, ah, the walk that afternoon
We saw the water-flags in flower!
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
Related poetry:
- Marine Snow At Mid-Depths And Down As you descend, slowly, falling faster past You this snow, Ghostly, some flakes bio- Luminescent (you plunge, And this lit snow doesn’t land At your feet but keeps falling below You): single-cell-plant chains, shreds Of zooplankton’s mucus food traps, Fish fecal pellets, radioactive fallouts, Sand grains, pollen….And inside These jagged falling islands Live more microlives, […]...
- Jerusalem On a roof in the Old City Laundry hanging in the late afternoon sunlight: The white sheet of a woman who is my enemy, The towel of a man who is my enemy, To wipe off the sweat of his brow. In the sky of the Old City A kite. At the other end of […]...
- Oh! Think Not My Spirits Are Always As Light Oh! think not my spirits are always as light, And as free from a pang as they seem to you now, Nor expect that the heart-beaming smile of to-night Will return with to-morrow to brighten my brow. No: life is a waste of wearisome hours, Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns; And the heart […]...
- In the Depths It is not sweet content, be sure, That moves the nobler Muse to song, Yet when could truth come whole and pure From hearts that inly writhe with wrong? ‘T is not the calm and peaceful breast That sees or reads the problem true; They only know, on whom ‘t has prest Too hard to […]...
- Spirits Of The Dead Thy soul shall find itself alone ‘Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone; Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy. Be silent in that solitude, Which is not loneliness – for then The spirits of the dead, who stood In life before thee, are again In death around thee, […]...
- The Two Spirits: An Allegory FIRST SPIRIT O thou, who plum’d with strong desire Wouldst float above the earth, beware! A Shadow tracks thy flight of fire Night is coming! Bright are the regions of the air, And among the winds and beams It were delight to wander there Night is coming! SECOND SPIRIT The deathless stars are bright above; […]...
- Spirits Angel spirits of sleep, White-robed, with silver hair, In your meadows fair, Where the willows weep, And the sad moonbeam On the gliding stream Writes her scatter’d dream: Angel spirits of sleep, Dancing to the weir In the hollow roar Of its waters deep; Know ye how men say That ye haunt no more Isle […]...
- How many schemes may die How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon’s width From his accustomed route The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying […]...
- Chorus of Eden Spirits HEARKEN, oh hearken! let your souls behind you Turn, gently moved! Our voices feel along the Dread to find you, O lost, beloved! Through the thick-shielded and strong-marshalled angels, They press and pierce: Our requiems follow fast on our evangels,- Voice throbs in verse. We are but orphaned spirits left in Eden A time ago: […]...
- One Lonely Afternoon Since the fern can’t go to the sink for a drink of Water, I graciously submit myself to the task, bringing two Glasses from the sink. And so we sit, the fern and I, sipping water together. Of course I’m more complex than a fern, full of deep Thoughts as I am. But I lay […]...
- Gacela of the Dead Child Each afternoon in Granada, Each afternoon, a child dies. Each afternoon the water sits down And chats with its companions. The dead wear mossy wings. The cloudy wind and the clear wind Are two pheasants in flight through the towers, And the day is a wounded boy. Not a flicker of lark was left in […]...
- The Telephone ‘When I was just as far as I could walk From here today, There was an hour All still When leaning with my head again a flower I heard you talk. Don’t say I didn’t, for I heard you say You spoke from that flower on the window sill- Do you remember what it was […]...
- Wanting The Moon Not the moon. A flower On the other side of the water. The water sweeps past in flood, Dragging a whole tree by the hair, A barn, a bridge. The flower Sings on the far bank. Not a flower, a bird calling Hidden among the darkest trees, music Over the water, making a silence Out […]...
- The Home-Coming My boy’s come back; he’s here at last; He came home on a special train. My longing and my ache are past, My only son is back again. He’s home with music, flags and flowers; With peace and joy my heart’s abrim; He got here in the morning hours With half the town to welcome […]...
- From Citron-Bower From citron-bower be her bed, Cut from branch of tree a-flower, Fashioned for her maidenhead. From Lydian apples, sweet of hue, Cut the width of board and lathe, Carve the feet from myrtle-wood. Let the palings of her bed Be quince and box-wood overlaid With the scented bark of yew. That all the wood in […]...
- Come down, O Maid COME down, O maid, from yonder mountain height: What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang), In height and cold, the splendour of the hills? But cease to move so near the Heavens, and cease To glide a sunbeam by the blasted Pine, To sit a star upon the sparkling spire; And come, for Love […]...
- The Daisy follows soft the Sun The Daisy follows soft the Sun And when his golden walk is done Sits shyly at his feet He waking finds the flower there Wherefore Marauder art thou here? Because, Sir, love is sweet! We are the Flower Thou the Sun! Forgive us, if as days decline We nearer steal to Thee! Enamored of the […]...
- Thick-Sprinkled Bunting THICK-SPRINKLED bunting! Flag of stars! Long yet your road, fateful flag!-long yet your road, and lined with bloody death! For the prize I see at issue, at last is the world! All its ships and shores I see, interwoven with your threads, greedy banner! -Dream’d again the flags of kings, highest born, to flaunt unrival’d? […]...
- First Sight Lambs that learn to walk in snow When their bleating clouds the air Meet a vast unwelcome, know Nothing but a sunless glare. Newly stumbling to and fro All they find, outside the fold, Is a wretched width of cold. As they wait beside the ewe, Her fleeces wetly caked, there lies Hidden round them, […]...
- Tools for life Has life ever dumped you in a heap? Perhaps you’ve found self belief so strongly Reinforcing that doubt never enters it, Nor divorces you from your own reality. While I admire conviction I see it an Affliction of the blessed, sign of the righteously Possessed and indeed, a decent place to serve A sentence for […]...
- The Flower Once in a golden hour I cast to earth a seed. Up there came a flower, The people said, a weed. To and fro they went Thro’ my garden bower, And muttering discontent Cursed me and my flower. Then it grew so tall It wore a crown of light, But thieves from o’er the wall […]...
- By Circumstances Fed By circumstances fed Which divide attention Among the living and the dead, Under the blooms of the blossoming sun, The gaze which is a tower towers Day and night, hour by hour, Critical of all and of one, Dissatisfied with every flower With all that’s been done or undone, Converting every feature Into its own […]...
- Tцrnfallet There is a meadow in Sweden Where I lie smitten, Eyes stained with clouds’ White ins and outs. And about that meadow Roams my widow Plaiting a clover Wreath for her lover. I took her in marriage In a granite parish. The snow lent her whiteness, A pine was a witness. She’d swim in the […]...
- May 24, 1980 I have braved, for want of wild beasts, steel cages, Carved my term and nickname on bunks and rafters, Lived by the sea, flashed aces in an oasis, Dined with the-devil-knows-whom, in tails, on truffles. From the height of a glacier I beheld half a world, the earthly width. Twice have drowned, thrice let knives […]...
- From Cocoon forth a Butterfly From Cocoon forth a Butterfly As Lady from her Door Emerged a Summer Afternoon Repairing Everywhere Without Design that I could trace Except to stray abroad On Miscellaneous Enterprise The Clovers understood Her pretty Parasol be seen Contracting in a Field Where Men made Hay Then struggling hard With an opposing Cloud Where Parties Phantom […]...
- In The Slight Ripple, The Mind Perceives The Heart In the slight ripple, the fishes dart Like fingers, centrifugal, like wishes Wanton. And pleasures rise as the eyes fall Through the lucid water. The small pebble, The clear clay bottom, the white shell Are apparent, though superficial. Who would ask more of the August afternoon? Who would dig mines and follow shadows? “I would,” […]...
- Charms She walks as lightly as the fly Skates on the water in July. To hear her moving petticoat For me is music’s highest note. Stones are not heard, when her feet pass, No more than tumps of moss or grass. When she sits still, she’s like the flower To be a butterfly next hour. The […]...
- Song Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run; Holding up A scent-brimmed cup, Full of summer’s fragrance to the summer sun. Oh! To be a butterfly Still, upon a flower, Winking with its painted wings, Happy in the hour. Blossoms hold Mines of gold Deep within the […]...
- "In White": Frost's Early Version Of Design A dented spider like a snow drop white On a white Heal-all, holding up a moth Like a white piece of lifeless satin cloth – Saw ever curious eye so strange a sight? – Portent in little, assorted death and blight Like the ingredients of a witches’ broth? – The beady spider, the flower like […]...
- Victory All night the ways of Heaven were desolate, Long roads across a gleaming empty sky. Outcast and doomed and driven, you and I, Alone, serene beyond all love or hate, Terror or triumph, were content to wait, We, silent and all-knowing. Suddenly Swept through the heaven low-crouching from on high, One horseman, downward to the […]...
- I Know, You Walk I walk so often, late, along the streets, Lower my gaze, and hurry, full of dread, Suddenly, silently, you still might rise And I would have to gaze on all your grief With my own eyes, While you demand your happiness, that’s dead. I know, you walk beyond me, every night, With a coy footfall, […]...
- I watcher her face to see which way I watcher her face to see which way She took the awful news Whether she died before she heard Or in protracted bruise Remained a few slow years with us Each heavier than the last A further afternoon to fail, As Flower at fall of Frost....
- Red Faces Red flags the reason for pretty flags. And ribbons. Ribbons of flags And wearing material Reason for wearing material. Give pleasure. Can you give me the regions. The regions and the land. The regions and wheels. All wheels are perfect. Enthusiasm....
- Design I found a dimpled spider, fat and white, On a white heal-all, holding up a moth Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth Assorted characters of death and blight Mixed ready to begin the morning right, Like the ingredients of a witches’ broth A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth, And dead wings […]...
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 22. The path by which we twain did go The path by which we twain did go, Which led by tracts that pleased us well, Thro’ four sweet years arose and fell, From flower to flower, from snow to snow: And we with singing cheer’d the way, And, crown’d with all the season lent, From April on to April went, And glad at heart […]...
- A Serenade Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh The sun has left the lea, The orange-flower perfumes the bower, The breeze is on the sea. The lark, his lay who trill’d all day, Sits hush’d his partner nigh; Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour, But where is County Guy? The village maid steals through the […]...
- County Guy Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh, The sun has left the lea, The orange flower perfumes the bower, The breeze is on the sea. The lark his lay who thrill’d all day Sits hush’d his partner nigh: Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour, But where is County Guy? The village maid steals through […]...
- Colors Passing Through Us Purple as tulips in May, mauve Into lush velvet, purple As the stain blackberries leave On the lips, on the hands, The purple of ripe grapes Sunlit and warm as flesh. Every day I will give you a color, Like a new flower in a bud vase On your desk. Every day I will paint […]...
- 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
- 29. Song-The Rigs o' Barley IT was upon a Lammas night, When corn rigs are bonie, Beneath the moon’s unclouded light, I held awa to Annie; The time flew by, wi’ tentless heed, Till, ‘tween the late and early, Wi’ sma’ persuasion she agreed To see me thro’ the barley. Corn rigs, an’ barley rigs, An’ corn rigs are bonie: […]...