Tithonus

A poem by Alan Seeger (1888-1916)

So when the verdure of his life was shed,

With all the grace of ripened manlihead,

And on his locks, but now so lovable,

Old age like desolating winter fell,

Leaving them white and flowerless and forlorn:

Then from his bed the Goddess of the Morn

Softly withheld, yet cherished him no less

With pious works of pitying tenderness;

Till when at length with vacant, heedless eyes,

And hoary height bent down none otherwise

Than burdened willows bend beneath their weight

Of snow when winter winds turn temperate, —

So bowed with years — when still he lingered on:

Then to the daughter of Hyperion

This counsel seemed the best: for she, afar

By dove-gray seas under the morning star,

Where, on the wide world’s uttermost extremes,

Her amber-walled, auroral palace gleams,

High in an orient chamber bade prepare

An everlasting couch, and laid him there,

And leaving, closed the shining doors. But he,

Deathless by Jove’s compassionless decree,

Found not, as others find, a dreamless rest.

There wakeful, with half-waking dreams oppressed,

Still in an aural, visionary haze

Float round him vanished forms of happier days;

Still at his side he fancies to behold

The rosy, radiant thing beloved of old;

And oft, as over dewy meads at morn,

Far inland from a sunrise coast is borne

The drowsy, muffled moaning of the sea,

Even so his voice flows on unceasingly, —

Lisping sweet names of passion overblown,

Breaking with dull, persistent undertone

The breathless silence that forever broods

Round those colossal, lustrous solitudes.

Times change. Man’s fortune prospers, or it falls.

Change harbors not in those eternal halls

And tranquil chamber where Tithonus lies.

But through his window there the eastern skies

Fall palely fair to the dim ocean’s end.

There, in blue mist where air and ocean blend,

The lazy clouds that sail the wide world o’er

Falter and turn where they can sail no more.

There singing groves, there spacious gardens blow —

Cedars and silver poplars, row on row,

Through whose black boughs on her appointed night,

Flooding his chamber with enchanted light,

Lifts the full moon’s immeasurable sphere,

Crimson and huge and wonderfully near.

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 

• Aubade by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• A Lover’s Complaint by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• A Fairy Song by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 128: How oft, when thou, my music, music play’st by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 149: Canst thou, O cruel, say I love thee not by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 148: O me! what eyes hath love put in my head by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 147: My love is as a fever, longing still by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 146: Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 145: Those lips that Love’s own hand did make by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 144: Two loves I have, of comfort and despair by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 143: Lo, as a careful huswife runs to catch by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 142: Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 141: In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 140: Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 13: O, that you were your self! But, love, you are by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 138: When my love swears that she is made of truth by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 137: Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 136: If thy soul check thee that I come so near by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 135: Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy will by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 134: So, now I have confessed that he is thine by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

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.

 

Parallel Translations of Poetry

Poems by Author and Category

The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works