Written Juice Lemon

Whilst what I write I do not see,

I dare thus, ev’n to you, write poetry.

Ah, foolish Muse! which dost so high aspire,

And know’st her judgment well,

How much it does thy power excel,

Yet dar’st be read by, thy just doom, the fire.

Alas! thou think’st thyself secure,

Because thy form is innocent and pure:

Like hypocrites, which seem unspotted here;

But, when they sadly come to die,

And the last fire their truth must try,

Scrawled o’er like thee, and blotted, they appear.

Go then, but reverently go,

And, since thou needs must sin, confess it too:

Confess ‘t, and with humility clothe thy shame;

For thou, who else must burned be

An heretick, if she pardon thee,

Mayst like a martyr then enjoy the flame.

But, if her wisdom grow severe,

And suffer not her goodness to be there;

If her large mercies cruelly it restrain;

Be not discourag’d, but require

A more gentle ordeal fire,

And bid her by love’s flames read it again.

Strange power of heat! thou yet dost show

Like winter-earth, naked, or cloth’d with snow:

But as, the quickening sun approaching near,

The plants arise up by degrees;

A sudden paint adorns the trees,

And all kind Nature’s characters appear.

So, nothing yet in thee is seen;

But, when a genial heat warms thee within,

A new-born wood of various lines there grows;

Here buds an A, and there a B,

Here sprouts a V, and there a T,

And all the flourishing letters stand in rows.

Still, silly paper! thou wilt think

That all this might as well be writ with ink:

Oh, no; there’s sense in this, and mystery-

Thou now mayst change thy author’s name,

And to her hand lay noble claim;

For, as she reads, she makes, the words in thee.

Yet – if thine own unworthiness

Will still that thou art mine, not hers confess-

Consume thy self with fire before her eyes,

And so her grace or pity move:

The gods, though beasts they do not love,

Yet like them when they ‘re burnt in sacrifice.

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 

• Robert Burns: Epitaph For James Smith: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epitaph On John Dove, Innkeeper: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Halloween: The following poem will, by many readers, be well enough understood; but for the sake of those who are unacquainted with the manners and traditions of the country where the scene is cast, notes are added to give some account of the principal charms and spells of that night, so big with prophecy to the peasantry in the west of Scotland. The passion of prying into futurity makes a striking part of the history of human nature in its rude state, in all ages and nations; and it may be some entertainment to a philosophic mind, if any such honour the author with a perusal, to see the remains of it among the more unenlightened in our own.-R.B. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Farewell To Ballochmyle: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Young Peggy Blooms: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Second Epistle to Davie: A Brother Poet by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Masonic Song: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Lines On Meeting With Lord Daer: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Address To The Toothache: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Farewell Song To The Banks Of Ayr: “I composed this song as I conveyed my chest so far on my road to Greenock, where I was to embark in a few days for Jamaica. I meant it as my farewell dirge to my native land.”-R. B. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: O Thou Dread Power: Lying at a reverend friend’s house one night, the author left the following verses in the room where he slept:- by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epigram On Rough Roads: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Fragment Of Song: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Brigs Of Ayr: Inscribed to John Ballantine, Esq., Ayr. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Reply To A Trimming Epistle Received From A Tailor: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Willie Chalmers: Mr. Chalmers, a gentleman in Ayrshire, a particular friend of mine, asked me to write a poetic epistle to a young lady, his Dulcinea. I had seen her, but was scarcely acquainted with her, and wrote as follows:- by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Nature’s Law – A Poem: Humbly inscribed to Gavin Hamilton, Esq. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Calf: To the Rev. James Steven, on his text, Malachi, ch. iv. vers. 2. “And ye shall go forth, and grow up, as Calves of the stall.” by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Thomson’s Edward and Eleanora.: by Robert Burns

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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