Poems
09.03.2010 / 23.10 pm
 
by Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok
Rating: 5.00
Votes: 1
A girl sang a song in the temple's chorus,
About men, tired in alien lands,
About the ships that left native shores,
And all who forgot their joy to the end.

Thus sang her clean voice, and flew up to the highness,
And sunbeams shined on her shoulder's white --
And everyone saw and heard from the darkness
The white and airy gown, singing in the light.

And all of them were sure, that joy would burst out:
The ships have arrived at their beach,
The people, in the land of the aliens tired,
Regaining their bearing, are happy and reach.

And sweet was her voice and the sun's beams around....
And only, by Caesar's Gates -- high on the vault,
The baby, versed into mysteries, mourned,
Because none of them will be ever returned.


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The Death Of Grandfather

We waited commonly for sleep or even death.
The instances were wearisome as ages.
Rating: 5.00
Votes: 2
 

The Faithless Shadows

The faithless shadows of day are running
And high and clear is the call of bells,
Rating: 0.00
Votes: 0
 

Don't Fear Death

Don't fear death in earthly travels.
Don't fear enemies or friends.
Rating: 0.00
Votes: 0
 
John DavidsonJohn Davidson (6)
(1857 - 1909)
Scottish poet and playwright, best known for his ballads.
Ernest FavencErnest Favenc (1)
(1845 - 1908)
Was an explorer of Australia, a journalist and historian.
Harry CrosbyHarry Crosby (6)
(1898 - 1929)
Was an American heir, bon vivant, poet, and for some, an exemplar of the Lost Generation in American literature.
James Thomson (B.V. )James Thomson (B.V. ) (11)
(1834 - 1882)
Scottish Victorian poet who is best remembered for his sombre, imaginative poem "The City of Dreadful Night."

Marriage

This institution,
perhaps one should say enterprise
Rating: 0.00
Votes: 0
 

Did You See Me Walking By The Buick Repairs?

Did you see me walking by the Buick Repairs?
I was thinking of you
Rating: 0.00
Votes: 0
 

My Beloved

My peace, O my brothers and sisters, is my solitude,
And my Beloved is with me always,
Rating: 4.50
Votes: 2
 

With Deaths' Prophetic Ear

Lay my rifle here beside me, set my Bible on my breast,
For a moment let the warning bugles cease;
Rating: 0.00
Votes: 0
 

A New Poet

Finding a new poet
is like finding a new wildflower
Rating: 5.00
Votes: 1
 








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