Transcending time II

In celebration of April being the National Month, I'm bringing back Transcending Time in which I share some of my favorite poems from decades ago. I always find myself lurking in the spaces between bookshelves in the library to go back to these and be alone with words for a moment. They hold a special place in my heart and I could only hope to write like these poets do. One day. One day. 

Here's the first one

. Enjoy reading my darlings. I love all these but the last one's my favorite! Wink wink

The Night Has a Thousand Eyes

Francis William Bourdillon

The night has a thousand eyes,

And the day but one;

Yet the light of the bright world dies

With the dying sun. 

The mind has a thousand eyes, 

And the heart but one;

Yet the light of a whole life dies

When love is done.

My Kate

Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

She was not as pretty as women I know,

And yet all your best made of sunshine and snow

Drop to shade, melt to naught in the long-trodden ways,

While she ’s still remember’d on warm and cold days—

My Kate. 

Her air had a meaning, her movements a grace;

You turn’d from the fairest to gaze on her face:

And when you had once seen her forehead and mouth,

You saw as distinctly her soul and her truth—

My Kate. 

Such a blue inner light from her eyelids outbroke,

You look’d at her silence and fancied she spoke:

When she did, so peculiar yet soft was the tone,

Tho’ the loudest spoke also, you heard her alone—

My Kate. 

I doubt if she said to you much that could act

As a thought or suggestion: she did not attract

In the sense of the brilliant or wise: I infer

’Twas her thinking of others, made you think of her—

My Kate. 

She never found fault with you, never implied

Your wrong by her right; and yet men at her side

Grew nobler, girls purer, as thro’ the whole town

The children were gladder that pull’d at her gown—

My Kate. 

None knelt at her feet confess’d lovers in thrall;

They knelt more to God than they used,—that was all:

If you praised her as charming, some ask’d what you meant,

But the charm of her presence was felt when she went—

My Kate. 

The weak and the gentle, the ribald and rude,

She took as she found them, and did them all good;

It always was so with her—see what you have!

She has made the grass greener even here … with her grave—

My Kate. 

My dear one!—when thou wast alive with the rest,

I held thee the sweetest and loved thee the best:

And now thou art dead, shall I not take thy part

As thy smiles used to do for thyself, my sweet Heart—

My Kate

Love Is A Sickness Full of Woes

Samuel Daniel

Love is a sickness full of woes,

All remedies refusing;

A plant that with most cutting grows,

Most barren with best using.

Why so?

More we enjoy it, more it dies;

If not enjoyed, it sighting cries,

Heigh ho!

Love is a torment of the mind,

A tempest everlasting;

And Jove hath made it of a kind

Not well, not full, nor fasting.

Why so?

More we enjoy it, more it dies;

If not enjoyed, it sighing cries,

Heigh ho!

Love (III)

George Herbert

Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back

Guilty of dust and sin.

But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack

From my first entrance in,

Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,

If I lacked any thing. 

A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:

Love said, You shall be he.

I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear,

I cannot look on thee.

Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,

Who made the eyes but I? 

Truth Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame

Go where it doth deserve.

And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?

My dear, then I will serve.

You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:

So I did sit and eat.

Soliloquy of the Solipsist

Sylvia Plath


I walk alone;

The midnight street

Spins itself from under my feet;

When my eyes shut

These dreaming houses all snuff out;

Through a whim of mine

Over gables the moon’s celestial onion

Hangs high.


Make houses shrink

And trees diminish

By going far; my look’s leash

Dangles the puppet-people

Who, unaware how they dwindle,

Laugh, kiss, get drunk,

Nor guess that if I choose to blink

They die.


When in good humor,

Give grass its green

Blazon sky blue, and endow the sun

With gold;

Yet, in my wintriest moods, I hold

Absolute power.

To boycott color and forbid any flower

To be.


Know you appear

Vivid at my side,

Denying you sprang out of my head,

Claiming you feel

Love fiery enough to prove flesh real,

Though it’s quite clear

All your beauty, all your wit, is a gift, my dear,

From me.