Poetry night, a start of a weekend

classic fountain pen of a poet

Good evening, night or even morning, depends on which part of the globe this post finds you!

Another little selection out of my personal favorites from classical literature, and within, poetry. Nice start of a weekend (at the time of writing it is a friday eve, 11.20 p.m. here in the Netherlands), and besides my Reads section should grow. After all, I do firmly believe in that reading is fundamentally important for the mind. It sharpens, helps evolving, vitalizes, and it can be a joy. Given your choice of book or article is the right one for you personally.

Without much further ado, here are the selected ones:

mary-elizabeth-frye

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there.
I did not die.

(by Mary Elizabeth Frye)

william-blake

A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

(by William Blake)

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