Monstrous Books > The Monstrous Library



So what's literature without poetry, if you have a favorite poem either you wrote or another, post it here...and if you're a poet dare to make you're own thread.  ;)

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more.

~Lord Alfred Tennyson~

So, i don't have enough misery in my life...or any other strong muses going on so i have nothing original at this time, but Tennyson is always good for the soul, with or without a muse around.  :)


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