“Where’er there’s a life to be kindled by love,
Wherever a soul to inspire,
Strike this key-note of God that trembles above
Night’s silver-tongued voices of fire.”
Genius is power.
The power that grasps in the universe, that dives out beyond space, and grapples with the starry worlds of heaven.
If genius achieves nothing, shows us no results, it is so much the less genius.
The man who is constantly fearing a lion in his path is a coward.
The man or woman whom excessive caution holds back from striking the anvil with earnest endeavor, is poor and cowardly of purpose.
The required step must be taken to reach the goal, though a precipice be the result.
Work must be done, and the result left to God.
The soul that is in earnest, will not stop to count the cost.
Circumstances cannot control genius: it will nestle with them: its power will bend and break them to its path.
This very audacity is divine.
Jesus of Nazareth did not ask the consent of the high priests in the temple when he drove out the “money-changers;” but, impelled by inspiration, he knotted the cords and drove them hence.
Genius will find room for itself, or it is none.
Men and women, in all grades of life, do their utmost.
If they do little, it is because they have no capacity to do more.
I hear people speak of “unfortunate genius,” of “poets who never penned their inspirations;” that “Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest;” of “unappreciated talent,” and “malignant stars,” and other contradictory things.
It is all nonsense.
Where power exists, it cannot be suppressed any more than the earthquake can be smothered.
As well attempt to seal up the crater of Vesuvius as to hide God’s given power of the soul.
“You may as well forbid the mountain pines To wag their high tops, and to make no noise When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven,” as to hush the voice of genius.
There is no such thing as unfortunate genius.
If a man or woman is fit for work, God appoints the field.
He does more; He points to the earth with her mountains, oceans, and cataracts, and says to man, ” Be great!”
He points to the eternal dome of heaven and its blazing worlds, and says: “Bound out thy life with beauty.”
He points to the myriads of down-trodden, suffering men and women, and says: “Work with me for the redemption of these, my children.”
He lures, and incites, and thrusts greatness upon men, and they will not take the gift.
Genius, on the contrary, loves toil, impediment, and poverty; for from these it gains its strength, throws off the shadows, and lifts its proud head to immortality.
Neglect is but the flat to an undying future.
To be popular is to be endorsed in the To-day and forgotten in the To-morrow.
It is the mess of pottage that alienates the birth-right.
Genius that succumbs to misfortune, that allows itself to be blotted by the slime of slander-and other serpents that infest society-is so much the less genius.
The weak man or woman who stoops to whine over neglect, and poverty, and the snarls of the world, gives the sign of his or her own littleness.
Genius is power.
The eternal power that can silence worlds with its voice, and battle to the death ten thousand arméd Hercules.
Then make way for this God-crowned Spirit of Night, that was born in that Continuing City, but lives in lowly and down-trodden souls!
Fling out the banner!
Its broad folds of sunshine will wave over turret and dome, and over the thunder of oceans on to eternity.
“Fling it out, fling it out o’er the din of the world!
Make way for this banner of flame,
That streams from the mast-head of ages unfurled,
And inscribed by the deathless in name.
And thus through the years of eternity’s flight,
This insignia of soul shall prevail,
The centre of glory, the focus of light;
O Genius! proud Genius, all hail!”
A few random poems:
- Николай Заболоцкий – Вечерний бар
- Henry Clay’s Mouth by Thomas Lux
- The Colossus by Sylvia Plath
- Burbank with a Baedeker: Bleistein with a Cigar by T. S. Eliot
- Annus Mirabilis by Philip Larkin
- Николай Языков – Альпийская песня
- Алексей Толстой – Растянулся на просторе
- Poem of Remembrance for a Girl or a Boy. by Walt Whitman
- Mid-Autumn Moon by Mike Yuan
- Climbing poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Winds Out of the West Land Blow poem – A. E. Housman
- The Silkworm by William Cowper
- Syrinx poem – Amy Clampitt poems | Poems and Poetry
- Алишер Навои – Над головой моею осенних дней листопад
- Ольга Берггольц – Так еще ни разу не забыла
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Sonnet 48: How careful was I, when I took my way by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 47: Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 46: Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 45: The other two, slight air and purging fire by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 44: If the dull substance of my flesh were thought by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 43: When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 42: That thou hast her, it is not all my grief by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 41: Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 40: Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 3: Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 39: O, how thy worth with manners may I sing by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 38: How can my Muse want subject to invent by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 37: As a decrepit father takes delight by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 36: Let me confess that we two must be twain by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 35: No more be grieved at that which thou hast done by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 34: Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 33: Full many a glorious morning have I seen by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 74: But be contented when that fell arrest by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 73: That time of year thou mayst in me behold by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 72: O, lest the world should task you to recite by William Shakespeare
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
Adah Isaacs Menken (1835 – 1868) was an American actress and a performer, who painted painter and wrote a number of poems (31 published so far). She was supposedly the highest earning actress of her time. She was best known for her performance in the hippodrama Mazeppa (with libretto based on Pushkin’s work), it is said that the climax of the spectacle featured her apparently nude and riding a horse on stage. After great success for a few years with the play in New York and San Francisco, she appeared in a production in London and Paris, from 1864 to 1866. She was a friend of Alexander Dumas. Adah Menken died in Paris at the age of 33