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…….To One In Paradise

Thou wast all that to me, love,

For which my soul did pine –

A green isle in the sea, love,

A fountain and a shrine,

All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,

And all the flowers were mine.

 

Ah, dream too bright to last!

Ah, starry Hope! That didst arise

But to be overcast!

A voice from out the Future cries,

“On! on!” – but oe’r the Past

(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies

Mute, motionless, aghast!

 

For, alas! alas! with me

The light of Life is o’er!

No more – no more – no more –
(Such language holds the solemn sea

To the sands upon the shore)

Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,

Or the stricken eagle soar!

 

And all my days are trances,

And all my nightly dreams

Are where thy dark eye glances,

And where thy footstep gleams –

In what ethereal dances,

By what eternal streams.

 

……………..I’ve Had My Share

 

I’ve had my share of trouble – death and woe

(Perhaps it never came like blizzard’s snow),

But I would wake at times to find ground white:

A blanket, even drifts, fell in the night.

When trouble came, a broom or shovel met

The need I had to keep my pathway yet.

So daily, if it fell, I had to cope

To keep on going and not lose my hope.

I take the whole: I think my life is grand;

I persevere, the wind and woe withstand,

And what once seemed to be a moment drear

Just melts away midst all the joy and cheer.

———————————————————

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

 

 

…………………Sonnet VI

Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer ere thou be distill’d.
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty’s treasure ere it be self-kill’d.
That use is not forbidden usury
Which happies those that pay the willing loan:
That’s for thyself to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one.
Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigur’d thee.
Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?
Be not self-will’d, for thou art much too fair
To be death’s conquest and make worms thine heir.


Guard Dog, Resting

 

Eyes? Okay.

But look at the ears -

Half alert.

 

———————- 

 

To The Horizon

 

A city -

Crowded: men, buildings -

An ocean.

 

———————–


 

Life’s Stage

 

Curtain closed,

The audience waits

For a birth.

————————

Guard – photo by Klaus Wiesent at

http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nhb7aqY/Resting+dog

Horizon – photo by Michal Zacharzewski at

http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/o05paRW/Vilnius+panorama

Stage – photo by Michal Zacharzewski at

http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/ocfiify/Stage

————————

* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: http://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/

———————-

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

 

……….What Lips My Lips Have Kissed

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,

I have forgotten, and what arms have lain

Under my head till morning; but the rain

Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh

Upon the glass and listen for reply,

And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain

For unremembered lads that not again

Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.

Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,

Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,

Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:

I cannot say what loves have come and gone,

I only know that summer sang in me

A little while, that in me sings no more

………..The Intruder

 

Between the cities that I drive,

There is a rich estate –

Three houses and a handsome price,

A high rock wall, and gate.

 

It is a fortress wealth has made,

Like ancient cities built

To keep an army or a man

Away from life and gilt.

 

It had an inner guard, no doubt,

Black devils running wild

With four legs faster than man’s two,

And teeth to sharpness filed.

 

Alarms throughout the house were set

Like trap to catch a rat,

If one got past the snarling lips,

And still looked for a spat.

 

And given they were country folk,

A gun was by the bed

In case a snake slid through the door,

And wanted to be dead.

 

Despite the caution and the care,

There came a dreadful day

Each line was crossed; security

Was weak as straw and hay.

 

The shotgun never left the rack;

The drooling hounds ne’er growled.

No walls were scaled; the gate not breached;

Alarm bells never howled.

 

The rich estate was up for sale

Since Death crept in one day

And took the treasure held most dear –

The rich man passed away.

———————————————————-

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

 

……..A Summer Day By The Sea

 

The sun is set; and in his latest beams

Yon little cloud of ashen gray and gold,

Slowly upon the amber air unrolled,

The falling mantle of the Prophet seems.

From the dim headlands many a lighthouse gleams,

The street lamps of the ocean; and behold,

O’erhead the banners of the night unfold;

The day hath passed into the land of dreams.

O summer day beside the joyous sea!

O summer day so wonderful and white,

So full of gladness and so full of pain!

Forever and forever shalt thou be

To some the gravestone of a dead delight,

To some the landmark of a new domain.

Haiku Chronicle of 9/11/12

 

Day too soon

A few minutes, too -

Wake up call.

 

Holiday?

Though Labor Day’s past

Labor pains.

 

Sit and wait;

Great family day -

Together.

 

Long hours

But, birth of grandson

Rewarding!

—————————-

* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: http://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/

——————–

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

The Moon was but a Chin of Gold

A Night or two ago –

And now she turns Her perfect Face

Upon the World below.

 

Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde –

Her Cheek – a Beryl hewn –

Her Eye unto the Summer Dew

The likest I have known –

 

Her Lips of Amber never part –

But what must be the smile

Upon Her Friend she could confer

Were such Her Silver Will –

 

And what a privilege to be

But the remotest Star –

For Certainty She take Her Way

Beside Your Palace Door –

 

Her Bonnet is the Firmament –

The Universe – Her Shoe –

The Stars – the Trinkets at Her Belt –

Her Dimities – of Blue –

…………Summer Time

After the school in spring, she came,
And stayed till school in fall.
A lithesome blond, she won my heart;
She was my all in all.

It was a summertime romance;
We knew it wouldn’t last.
She came to visit, not to stay.
A season passes fast.

Her hair was golden like the wheat;
Her smile beamed like the sun.
She liked long days; made lovely nights;
She courted all, and won.

But soon, ‘twas time.  She’d say goodbye –
It seemed it was to kid.
She’d linger, go, and then return.
And then – she never did.

My heart grows colder now she’s gone;
My skin, e’en air is chilled.
No more, the days of revelry,
Those days with gladness filled.

She said that she’d come back in months,
And she’s an honest girl.
It’s certain that she’ll keep her word,
As certain as earth’s whirl.

———————————————–

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

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