A poem by Alan Seeger (1888-1916)
He faints with hope and fear. It is the hour.
Distant, across the thundering organ-swell,
In sweet discord from the cathedral-tower,
Fall the faint chimes and the thrice-sequent bell.
Over the crowd his eye uneasy roves.
He sees a plume, a fur; his heart dilates —
Soars . . . and then sinks again. It is not hers he loves.
She will not come, the woman that he waits.
Braided with streams of silver incense rise
The antique prayers and ponderous antiphones.
`Gloria Patri’ echoes to the skies;
`Nunc et in saecula’ the choir intones.
He marks not the monotonous refrain,
The priest that serves nor him that celebrates,
But ever scans the aisle for his blonde head. . . . In vain!
She will not come, the woman that he waits.
How like a flower seemed the perfumed place
Where the sweet flesh lay loveliest to kiss;
And her white hands in what delicious ways,
With what unfeigned caresses, answered his!
Each tender charm intolerable to lose,
Each happy scene his fancy recreates.
And he calls out her name and spreads his arms . . . No use!
She will not come, the woman that he waits.
But the long vespers close. The priest on high
Raises the thing that Christ’s own flesh enforms;
And down the Gothic nave the crowd flows by
And through the portal’s carven entry swarms.
Maddened he peers upon each passing face
Till the long drab procession terminates.
No princess passes out with proud majestic pace.
She has not come, the woman that he waits.
Back in the empty silent church alone
He walks with aching heart. A white-robed boy
Puts out the altar-candles one by one,
Even as by inches darkens all his joy.
He dreams of the sweet night their lips first met,
And groans — and turns to leave — and hesitates . . .
Poor stricken heart, he will, he can not fancy yet
She will not come, the woman that he waits.
But in an arch where deepest shadows fall
He sits and studies the old, storied panes,
And the calm crucifix that from the wall
Looks on a world that quavers and complains.
Hopeless, abandoned, desolate, aghast,
On modes of violent death he meditates.
And the tower-clock tolls five, and he admits at last,
She will not come, the woman that he waits.
Through the stained rose the winter daylight dies,
And all the tide of anguish unrepressed
Swells in his throat and gathers in his eyes;
He kneels and bows his head upon his breast,
And feigns a prayer to hide his burning tears,
While the satanic voice reiterates
`Tonight, tomorrow, nay, nor all the impending years,
She will not come,’ the woman that he waits.
Fond, fervent heart of life’s enamored spring,
So true, so confident, so passing fair,
That thought of Love as some sweet, tender thing,
And not as war, red tooth and nail laid bare,
How in that hour its innocence was slain,
How from that hour our disillusion dates,
When first we learned thy sense, ironical refrain,
She will not come, the woman that he waits.
A few random poems:
- On The Death Of The Bishop Of Ely. Anno Aet. 17. (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper
- Владимир Маяковский – Студенту пролетарию
- Юлия Друнина – Я порою себя ощущаю связной
- Life, wait for me by Martin Zakovski
- The Boy by Marilyn Hacker
- Владимир Луговской – Мертвый хватает живого
- Robert Burns: My Spouse Nancy:
- Reply to a Trimming Epistle, received from a Tailor by Robert Burns
- Lucy by William Wordsworth
- At Queensferry by William Ernest Henley
- Astrophel And Stella-Sonnet LIV by Sir Philip Sidney
- Sonnet X
- Ок Мельникова – 3. 45 a. m
- If I To You But Sorry Bring poem – Alfred Austin
- Implosions
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
- Ольга Ермолаева – Если о плачущих
- Ольга Ермолаева – Будет весь день долбить
- Ольга Ермолаева – Барственный Шехтель все ирисы лепит на фриз
- Ольга Берггольц – Вечерняя станция
- Ольга Берггольц – Ты в пустыню меня послала
- Ольга Берггольц – Ты будешь ждать
- Ольга Берггольц – Трагедия всех трагедий
- Ольга Берггольц – Стихи о себе
- Ольга Берггольц – Слепой
- Ольга Берггольц – Сейчас тебе всё кажется тобой
- Ольга Берггольц – Романс стойкого оловянного солдатика
- Ольга Берггольц – Разведчик
- Ольга Берггольц – Пусть голосуют дети
- Ольга Берггольц – Приятелям
- Ольга Берггольц – Феодосия
- Ольга Берггольц – Здравствуй
- Ольга Берггольц – Знаю, чем меня пленила
- Ольга Берггольц – Заметь, заметь, Как легчает сердце
- Ольга Берггольц – Я все оставляю тебе при уходе
- Ольга Берггольц – Я так хочу, так верю, так люблю
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
Alan Seeger (1888-1916) was an American war poet who fought and died in World War I during the Battle of the Somme, serving in the French Foreign Legion. Seeger was the brother of Charles Seeger, a noted American pacifist and musicologist and the uncle of folk musician, Pete Seeger.