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(Pont de Neuilly)
The Seine flows out of the mist and into the mist again;
The trees lean over the water, the small leaves fall like rain.
The leaves fall patiently, nothing remembers or grieves:
The river takes to the sea the yellow drift of the leaves.
Milky and cold is the air, the leaves float with the stream,
The river comes out of a sleep and goes away in a dream.
Those Who Love
Those who love the most, do not talk of their love,
Francesca, Guinevere, Deirdre, Iseult, Heloise,
In the fragrant gardens of heaven are silent, or speak if at all
Of fragile, inconsequent things.
And a woman I used to know who loved one man from her youth,
Against the strength of the fates fighting in somber pride,
Never spoke of this thing, but hearing his name by chance,
A light would pass over her face.
Interminable palaces front on t he green parterres,
And ghost of ladies lovely and immoral
Glide down the gilded stairs,
The high cold corridors are clicking with the heel taps
That long ago were theirs.
But in the sunshine , in th e vagu e autumn sunshine,
The geometric gardens are desolately gay:
The crimson and scarlet an d rose-red dahlias
Are painted like the ladies who used t o pass this way.
With a ringletted monarch, a Henry or a Louis on a lost October day.
The aisles of the garden lead into the forest,
The aisles lead into autumn, a damp wind grieves,
Ghostly kings are hunting, the boar breaks cover,
But the sounds of horse and horn are hushed in falling leaves,
Four centuries of autumns, four centuries of leaves.
The above three poems were written by Sarah Teasdale
from "Dark Side of the Moon"
Eloisa to Abelard
(aka Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind – in part)
written by Alexander Pope circa 1717
Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he alone can rival, can succeed to thee.
How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot;
The world forgetting, by the world forgot:
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind,
Each prayer accepted, and each wish resigned
Labor and rest that equal periods keep
Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep; Desire composed, affections ever even:
Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heaven.
Grace shines around her with serenest beams,
And whispering angels prompt her golden dreams.
For her th’unfading rose of Eden blooms,
And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes;
For her the spouse prepares the bridal ring;
For her white virgins hymneals sing;
To sounds of heavenly harps she dies away,
And melts in visions of eternal day.
Far other dreams my erring soul employ,
Far other raptures of unholy joy.
When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day,
Fancy restores what vengeance snatched away.
Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free,
All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee.
Who loves ya? The Castle Lady