A poem by Alistar Crowley (1875-1947)
The mighty sound of forests murmuring
In answer to the dread command;
The stars that shudder when their king
extends his hand,
His awful hand to bless, to curse; or moves
Toward the dimmest den
In the thick leaves, not known of loves
Or nymphs or men;
(Only the sylph’s frail gossamer may wave
Their quiet frondage yet,
Only her dewy tears may lave
The violet;)
The mighty answer of the shaken sky
To his supreme behest; the call
Of Ibex that behold on high
Night’s funeral,
And see the pale moon quiver and depart
Far beyond space, the sun ascend
And draw earth’s globe unto his heart
To make an end;
The shriek of startled birds; the sobs that tear
With sudden terror the sharp sea
That slept, and wove its golden hair
Most mournfully;
The rending of the earth at his command
Who wields the wrath of heaven, and is dumb;
Hell starts up; and before his hand
Is overcome.
I heard these voices, and beheld afar
These dread works wrought at his behest:
And on his forehead, lo! a star,
And on his breast.
And on his feet I knew the sandals were
More beautiful than flame, and white,
And on the glory of his hair
The crown of night.
And I beheld his robe, and on its hem
Were writ unlawful words to say,
Broidered like lilies, with a gem
More clear than day.
And round him shone so wonderful a light
As when on Galilee
Jesus once walked, and clove the night,
And calmed the sea.
I scarce could see his features for the fire
That dwelt about his brow,
Yet, for the whiteness of my own desire,
I see him now;
Because my footsteps follow his, and tread
The awful bounds of heaven, and make
The very graves yield up their dead,
And high thrones shake;
Because my eyes still steadily behold
And dazzle not, nor shun the night,
The foam; born lamp of beaten gold
And secret might;
Because my forehead bears the sacred Name,
And my lips bear the brand
Of Him whose heaven is one flame,
Whose holy hand
Gathers this earth, who built the vaults of space,
Moulded the stars, and fixed the iron sea,
Because His love lights through my face
And all of me.
Because my hand may fasten on the sword
Of my heart falter not, and smite
Those lampless limits most abhorred
Of iron night,
And pass beyond their horror to attack
Fresh foemen, light and truth to bring
Through their untrodden fields of black,
A victor king.
I know all must be well, all must be free;
I know God as I know a friend;
I conquer, and most silently
Await the end.

A few random poems:
- Primrose by Patrick Kavanagh
- Юлия Жадовская – Заколдованное сердце
- Lines On The Mermaid Tavern poem – John Keats poems
- Владимир Маяковский – Все на фронт добровольцами! Пока… (РОСТА)
- In Transit by Satish Verma
- Михаил Кузмин – Возвращение
- Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 XII. Sonnet Composed At —- Castle by William Wordsworth
- Владимир Корнилов – Слово
- Шекспир – День без тебя казался ночью – Сонет 43
- This Compost. by Walt Whitman
- Олег Бундур – Сломанное дерево
- Blue Roses by Rudyard Kipling
- Compensation by Rabindranath Tagore
- Astrophel and Stella: III by Sir Philip Sidney
- Как жаль, что много лет назад
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
- The Gardener XIX: You Walked by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener XIV: I Was Walking by the Road by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener XIII: I Asked Nothing by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener X: Let Your Work Be, Bride by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener LXXXIV: Over the Green by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener LXXXIII: She Dwelt on the Hillside by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener LXXXI: Why Do You Whisper So Faintly by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener LXXVI: The Fair Was On by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener LXXV: At Midnight by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener LXVIII: None Lives For Ever, Brother by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener LXIX: I Hunt for the Golden Stag by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener LXIV: I Spent My Day by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener LV: It Was Mid-Day by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener LIX: O Woman by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener LI: Then Finish the Last Song by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener IX: When I Go Alone at Night by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener IV: Ah Me by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Further Bank by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Flower-School by Rabindranath Tagore
- The First Jasmines by Rabindranath Tagore
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