An Enigma

„Seldom we find,” says Solomon Don Dunce,
„Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet.
Through all the flimsy things we see at once
As easily as through a Naples bonnet –
Trash of all trash! – how can a lady don it?
Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan stuff-
Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff
Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it.”
And, veritably, Sol is right enough.
The general Petrarchanities are arrant
Bubbles – ephemeral and so transparent –
But this is, now, – you may depend upon it –
Stable, opaque, immortal – all by dint
Of the dear names that lie concealed within ‚t.

(2 votes, average: 3,50 out of 5)

Podobne wiersze:

The Bluebell The Bluebell is the sweetest flower That waves in summer air: Its blossoms have the mightiest power To soothe my […]...
[ANG] To The One Of Fictive Music Sister and mother and diviner love, And of the sisterhood of the living dead Most near, most clear, and of […]...
By The Fire By The FireWe who are lovers sit by the fire, Cradled warm ‚twixt thought and will, Sit and drowse like […]...
Soil A flowers’s mother A soldier’s father The farmer’s wife The strat and end of life, The sword can’t cut it, […]...
Sonnet 30 When to hte sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of […]...
The everlasting Gospel To the Accuser who is The God of this World Truly, my Satan, thou art but a dunce And dost […]...
[ANG] Gray Room Although you sit in a room that is gray, Except for the silver Of the straw-paper, And pick At your […]...
Ode to a Nightingale I My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied […]...
FRIIK What’s my problem, Here’s my problem, My problem is that I’m Too visual to be blind, Too audiological to be […]...
Siedmiowiersz Jak piękna jest brzydka pogoda zabawny spóźniony generał surowy wesoły śnieg słońce rano podłużne w południe okrągłe jak chuda goła […]...
To F— [F— is presumably, Mrs. Frances Sargent Osgood] Beloved! amid the earnest woes That crowd aroud my earthly path- (Dear path, […]...
City Of Blinds I live in a city of blinds, I wake up from life, To fall asleep in light, Can’t open my […]...
Complaint ComplaintI have tried to remember the familiar places, – The pillared gloom of the beechwoods, the towns by the sea, […]...
ELEVATION Above the lake in the valley and the grove along the hillside, high over the sea and the passing clouds, […]...
*** „Life ties you to addiction, Through its many Epicurean, immortal extravagances, Pulling you ever so inward, Along the belts leading […]...
One word is too often profaned One word is too often profaned For me to profane it; One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain […]...
The Tyger (Tygrys) WILLIAM BLAKE (1757-1827) The Tyger Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye […]...
An asphodel O dear sweet rosy Unattainable desire …How sad, no way To change The mad Cultivated asphodel, The Visible reality… And […]...
Robert E. Howard – Lines written in the realization that I must Die The Black Door gapes and the Black Wall rises; Twilight gasps in the grip of Night. Paper and dust are […]...
INTO MY OWN One of my wishes is that those dark trees, So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze, Were not, […]...
Kołysanka Matki Brzemiennej Pieśń z Kolędy Nocki Po co tutaj stoisz i na domy patrzysz? Pokój mego dziecka chciałabym zobaczyć. A ty, dziecko, […]...
Urok Tego, Co Trudne / The Fascination of What’s Difficult Urok tego, co trudne, wciąż wysusza soki W moich żyłach, wrodzoną pogodę odbiera I żywiołową radość z serca mi wydziera. […]...
To Milton Milton! I think thy spirit hath passed away From these white cliffs and high-embattled towers; This gorgeous fiery-coloured world of […]...
She walks in Beauty SHE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that ‚s best of dark […]...
Sonnet on Hearing the Dies Irae Sung in the Sistine Chapel Nay, Lord, not thus! white lilies in the spring, Sad olive-groves, or silver-breasted dove, Teach me more clearly of Thy […]...
A BROOK IN THE CITY The firm house lingers, though averse to square With the new city street it has to wear A number in. […]...
Holy Week at Genoa I wandered through Scoglietto’s far retreat, The oranges on each o’erhanging spray Burned as bright lamps of gold to shame […]...
Człowiek z tatuażem Ktoś, być może Bóg, nagryzmolił mu loczek za loczkiem na piersi i ramionach – lecz rysunki są tam, pod spodem. […]...
SONNET IN A GARDEN SONNET IN A GARDEN By: Josephine Preston Peabody (1874-1922) DUMB Mother of all music, let me rest On thy great […]...
Lenore Ah broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown forever! Let the bell toll! – a saintly soul floats on […]...
All for love O talk not to me of a name great in story; The days of our youth are the days of […]...
Auld Lang Syne Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne? For […]...
List do Mexico City II (wersja analogowa) Wszystkie noce poniżej Drogi Mlecznej bez ciebie wydają się wieczne. Zoe – Via lactea A-side (Europa Środkowa) Jest w tym […]...
Salivation I have resolved to salivate On your favorite salad dressing, Or your dear held principles, Who run ahead of their […]...
A Young Child and His Pregnant Mother At four years Nature is mountainous, Mysterious, and submarine. Even A city child knows this, hearing the subway’s Rumor underground. […]...
Złoto Tygrysów – Kuszenie Generał Quiroga idzie na swój pogrzeb; Zaprasza go najemnik Santos Perez, A nad Santosem Perezem jest Rosas, Przyczajony pająk z […]...
The Sleeper At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon. An opiate vapor, dewy, dim, Exhales from […]...
Unto one who lies at rest Unto one who lies at rest U NTO one who lies at rest ‚Neath the sunset, in the West, Clover-blossoms […]...
The Tyger The Tyger Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy […]...
Someone Is Harshly Coughing as Before Someone is harshly coughing on the next floor, Sudden excitement catching the flesh of his throat: Who is the sick […]...