My Heritage

“My heritage!” It is to live within

The marts of Pleasure and of Gain, yet be

No willing worshiper at either shrine;

To think, and speak, and act, not for my pleasure,

But others’. The veriest slave of time

And circumstances. Fortune’s toy!

To hear of fraud, injustice, and oppression,

And feel who is the unshielded victim.

Cold friends and causeless foes!

Proud thoughts that rise to fall.

Bright stars that set in seas of blood;

Affections, which are passions, lava-like

Destroying what they rest upon. Love’s

Fond and fervid tide preparing icebergs

That fragile bark, this loving human heart.

O’ermastering Pride!

Ruler of the Soul!

Life, with all its changes, cannot bow ye.

Soul-subduing Poverty!

That lays his iron, cold grasp upon the high

Free spirit: strength, sorrow-born, that bends

But breaks not in his clasp-all, all

These are “my heritage!”

And mine to know a reckless human love, all passion and intensity, and see a mist come o’er the scene, a dimness steal o’er the soul!

Mine to dream of joy and wake to wretchedness!

Mine to stand on the brink of life

One little moment where the fresh’ning breeze

Steals o’er the languid lip and brow, telling

Of forest leaf, and ocean wave, and happy

Homes, and cheerful toil; and bringing gently

To this wearied heart its long-forgotten

Dreams of gladness.

But turning the fevered cheek to meet the soft kiss of the winds, my eyes look to the sky, where I send up my soul in thanks. The sky is clouded-no stars-no music -the heavens are hushed.

My poor soul comes back to me, weary and disappointed.

The very breath of heaven, that comes to all, comes not to me.

Bound in iron gyves of unremitting toil, my vital air is wretchedness-what need I any other?

“My heritage!” The shrouded eye, the trampled leaf, wind-driven and soiled with dust-these tell the tale.

Mine to watch

The glorious light of intellect

Burn dimly, and expire; and mark the soul,

Though born in Heaven, pause in its high career,

Wave in its course, and fall to grovel in

The darkness of earth’s contamination, till

Even Death shall scorn to give a thing

o low his welcome greeting!

Who would be that pale,

Blue mist, that hangs so low in air, like Hope

That has abandoned earth, yet reacheth

Not the stars in their proud homes?

A dying eagle, striving to reach the sun?

A little child talking to the gay clouds as they flaunt past in their purple and crimson robes?

A timid little flower singing to the grand old trees?

Foolish waves, leaping up and trying to kiss the moon?

A little bird mocking the stars?

Yet this is what men call Genius.

Poetry Monster – Home

A few random poems:

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 

• From Milton: And did those feet by William Blake by William Blake
• Blind Man’s Buff by William Blake by William Blake
• XVI: Some Verses: Of Conquerouris by William Alexander by William Alexander
• XV: Some Verses: Ciprian’s Smyling by William Alexander by William Alexander
• XIV: Some Verses: To Mr. Edward Allane by William Alexander by William Alexander
• XIII: Some Verses: On A Report On The Death Of The Author by William Alexander by William Alexander
• A Slumber did my Spirit Seal by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• A Sketch by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• A Poet’s Epitaph by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• A Poet! He Hath Put His Heart To School by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• A Parsonage In Oxfordshire by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• A Morning Exercise by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• A Jewish Family In A Small Valley Opposite St. Goar, Upon The Rhine by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• A Gravestone Upon The Floor In The Cloisters Of Worcester Cathedral by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• A Fact, And An Imagination, Or, Canute And Alfred, On The Seashore by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• A Complaint by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• XII: Some Verses: Sonnet, To The Authour by William Alexander by William Alexander
• XI: Some Verses: To His Worthy Friend Master Walter Quin by William Alexander by William Alexander
• X: Some Verses: To His Most Affectionate Friend Mr. Lithgow by William Alexander by William Alexander
• VII: Some Verses: On The Death of John Murray by William Alexander by William Alexander

More external links (open in a new tab):

Russian Commerce Agency

Dealing Monster

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.

 

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