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theprohibition.livejournal.com) wrote in
greatpoetry2010-11-04 07:13 am
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Entry tags:
request and a poem
Poetry about losing faith/finding faith in God or any belief system?
and in return, a poem that I love but isn't quite relevant:
"These are easy verses" by T.H. White
These are easy verses, which anybody can write
in a minute:
So that more than two or three at a time
Leave a taste in the mouth,
But oh my God
If I could once get from my heart
What is in it
About man and madness,
Ambition and the blood of boys -
and in return, a poem that I love but isn't quite relevant:
"These are easy verses" by T.H. White
These are easy verses, which anybody can write
in a minute:
So that more than two or three at a time
Leave a taste in the mouth,
But oh my God
If I could once get from my heart
What is in it
About man and madness,
Ambition and the blood of boys -
no subject
The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Agaean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.