September

A poem by Aldous Huxley (1894 – 1963)

Spring is past and over these many days,

Spring and summer. The leaves of September droop,

Yellowing afid all but dead on the patient trees.

Nor is there any hope in me. I walk

Slowly homeward. Night is as empty and dark

Behind my eyes as it is dark without

And empty round about me and over me.

Spring is past and over these many days;

But, looking up, suddenly I see

Leaves in the upthrown light of a street lamp shine

Clear and luminous, young and so transparent,

They seem but the coloured foam of air, green fire,

No more than the scarce embodied thoughts of leaves;

And it is spring within that circle of light.

Oh, magical brightness ! the old leaves are made new.

In the mind, too, some coloured accident

Of beauty revives and makes all young again.

A chance light meaninglessly shines and it is spring.

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Poems in English 

• Is There A Power That Can Sustain And Cheer by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Invocation To The Earth, February 1816 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Inside of King’s College Chapel, Cambridge by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Inscriptions Written with a Slate Pencil upon a Stone by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Inscriptions In The Ground Of Coleorton, The Seat Of Sir George Beaumont, Bart., Leicestershire by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Inscriptions For A Seat In The Groves Of Coleorton by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Influence of Natural Objects by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Indignation Of A High-Minded Spaniard by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Incident Characteristic Of A Favorite Dog by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• In The Pass Of Killicranky by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• In Due Observance Of An Ancient Rite by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• I Travelled among Unknown Men by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• I Know an Aged Man Constrained to Dwell by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• I Grieved For Buonaparte by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• How Sweet It Is, When Mother Fancy Rocks by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Hoffer by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Hint From The Mountains For Certain Political Pretenders by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Here Pause: The Poet Claims At Least This Praise by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Her Eyes Are Wild by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Hart-Leap Well by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth

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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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