Reactions to William Blake, Author: Rosemarie C. Dundon
Reactions to "Blake's Poetic Sketches:
Our stallions thrust forward beyond youth and the force of nature. Unbridled vigor through our time fierce and bountiful composition: youth. Faith holding with both hands, strides of strength, joy-perfuse we know it is our time to live fully.
We can be taken to the place where Heaven and Earth meet following the Voice of Heaven. Listen, listen carefully the songs that nature sings to thee. Live, Live! Dive on in to streams of luxuriant pleasure and still lives lived. Song and liturgy advice and melody, picturesque circumstances be.
Beauty flourishing, fame foreboding and songs of glee, we hear if we listen to the tales of these: Life, love and liberty.
Reactions to "Blake's Poetic Sketches:
TO SUMMER.
Our stallions thrust forward beyond youth and the force of nature. Unbridled vigor through our time fierce and bountiful composition: youth. Faith holding with both hands, strides of strength, joy-perfuse we know it is our time to live fully.
We can be taken to the place where Heaven and Earth meet following the Voice of Heaven. Listen, listen carefully the songs that nature sings to thee. Live, Live! Dive on in to streams of luxuriant pleasure and still lives lived. Song and liturgy advice and melody, picturesque circumstances be.
Beauty flourishing, fame foreboding and songs of glee, we hear if we listen to the tales of these: Life, love and liberty.
TO AUTUMN.
'End of summer, 'midst of life, decay of beauty and vanities' strife. We rest now 'though half way through enjoying the view. Old familiar songs break through and they dance, the debutant of new. Awash in nature's thriving beauty are the last of the blossom's of the day, our booty.. Oh day or eve! Adam or Eve! Endowed with first fruits, joy and wellbeing. She is a goddess to Adam and he to the season reins in the sights, the smells and festivities. The energy of the time as it passes impresses us with magnanimous scenery, literal and figuratively. The next generation will likely despise thee
TO WINTER.
We make the call to the "King of all" our usher of winter and nature's mystifying plan, I stand a mere man. Oh death! O giver of Life, Our King, don't let me pass 'till spring! Don't let me become still yet, for I am weary in the darkness, deliver me yet?
You rule, adamant, your Glory Pure, and I? I am not sure….Oh, sweet chariot, ridding in the skies, come for me another time, when I look Him in the eyes. Those who think they cry in vain, have much to learn and much to disdain. Let your warmth and mercy be, don't let me be a victim to nature's mystery. How fragile, temporal and insignificant are we. Such monster of the elements nature's way will be, but it is under divine sovereignty.
:
How beautiful our evening prayer? The last of day's love not despair. Pray He love our loves under his radiant glow. Governing over all we see and cannot see, you draw and end the day all within your light and dusk tomorrow begin providing providence within. Enjoy the basking of the his creations old and new.
Pristine and unawakened are we, at such time as our maturity.
Footsteps of our ancestors, breaking ground, a gift from heaven our time renowned, much haste. Down comes night up goes daybreak. Like an army of bountiful players, we father our days.
We move, we play and we rejoice in the length of hours and provision of days.
Oh Fair Eleanor, Franklin is waiting for you above the clouds, all around you. We urge you, No hurry to reunite, become erudite. It's the best way to fare the night. Visit often, sigh in unison with the dead it is not your time visit him however weary. Cry out if you must, listen to the hushed on hollowed ground. Fear not, even if the words don't come, move forward. Speak to the dead, converse with the living, send your love as it is always fitting. One who wishes to send best wishes to send best wishes.Send your last message death due us part, it is done for the most part.
Be still, you are still the wife of the one goneby, Treasure your time capscules and memories revisited and spry
Joy, love and living the span of a blossom to fruition and finally toward Grace, let not the sorrows in separation your countenance disgrace.
Dreadfully wholesome and sure, when death will come for you, you cannot be sure. Husband, like an angel amongst us, chaste and pure of heart. He was. Remnant of one who visited The message well received your blood will speak for you for you when you are wasted and not ,present. It will tell the tale of his death to follow them these that invoke death. Weary of all who are opportunists we may seek out our own death.
___________________________________
Loading...
Brushed-by bye those of fanciful desires, enclaves of hewn emotion, destiny: love, live well or die. My countenance to model the cherubim in the heaven's within and the skies.
That part that has died or gone away sees an earlier grave, for you I am a nave.
Shower us in your smiles and warm up your heart, living we must start.
Your aloof demeanor sound-proof breast and will divide: me from you and you from my side.
All there, are comely as we are to each a new and ardent love. To endeavor to love regardless of the dangers, freedom in love is where we gather or depart "matters of the heart." Until such time as our buildings rise, the gold watch and the sporty mobile, we go with great trepidation and zeal. True love our guest, taylor and jury, may we always love with sound and fury..
LO VE and harmony combine: You and I and The Devine….
The bequest of our ancesters: "live well, know well and die well: true love only knows protective restraint.We are bound together by common name, citizenry and good or bad fortune. Joined together with virtue and uprightness, how simple it sounds , but hard to hold. We delight in our youth, and if wiser for our years we will make many happy days and happy tears.
They come They come from inside us, sit at our side until they are old enough and we have ended our ride.
Golden are the moments. Few, when to remember for our phases of life. Morning star and evening sun, we are blest to have such as you and be one. True it is warmth, depth breath for the time and the aray of banter and without delay.
Remember for our phases of living well-refined, our life merely a. parade of morning star and evening sun, and those who intricately decorate of dun. We are blest to have such as you and be one.
Song also:
Whose fortune permits culture's rein in our hearts, in our minds and in our history, genial smile, demure and without guile. She is but young one time, passing the valley and the yodeling resonance of "I love you!"You be not barred from the boughs of holly, you move too fast and you are folly. Make your bed at father's bidding. Those older, perhaps wiser laugh at our inexperience. Lucky we are providence we have, alas! we are shewn to notice the notice the lillys, the valleys and our afternoon. Bonds are made, not to be broken, but to enhance the life but a token.
_________________________________________________...
* Can we trace in the opening lines of Tennyson's Sonnet, published in The Englishman's Magazine, in August, 1831, an unintentional echo of the melody of the last two lines, or is it merely one of those accidental coincidences not uncom - mon among great poets ? Ed.
MAD SONG.
Nature urges us onward, tires us out in custom and faith we are devout. Darkness be as darkness is, but with you it is pure bliss. Together we fold our mantle's weight to sleep the sleep of the great.
Our griefs our sorrows of these lessons day by day morrow by tomorrow do natures work in our hearts and hurts. Forlorn there is always tomorrow, another chance to defeat our sorrow.
Our nature's set, etched in stone. We write to make posthumous mark, or if not at least a spark.
Many are the driven, these who seek not to allow futility, to hear the songs and sounds of winds and history.
Some follow daylight, some follow man's plight and others OH! We try to follow those who we think do know.
Many are the driven, these who seek not to allow futility, to hear the songs and sounds of winds and history.
Some follow daylight, some follow man's plight and others OH! We try to follow those who we think do know.
Odd we are midst the dew of days with love and laughter too few. Our footsteps lye in wait of our decisions. You irradiate the noon time banter, your aura of fresh flower and wishes to see you after,Santa
Crowning us in days of honour, be beautiful and true with heart and view,without guile or horror.
You are merely our progeny, and Oh, how we do love thee.
We walk the hollowed ground to take the scepter of love and virtue well after, do coincide, the new place at which we arrive. Life is but Angel boot-camp, be you a loving lover or a scamp
Be you moreso human than inclined, what living has uncovered education has refined If you find your angel there go forward forward without despair, these will cherish you and and help you fare.
To love a love is so a desire, we must not refute the the naming of the mire. Ours is Eden revisted through thistles and brush and being and on our guard, we will sustain the ready and the hard.
Be he kind or just kindred son, marry the one who in the village is heard, corrected and received, brave beneath the modest temperament. Be not wise in your own eyes, but further yourselves by diligence and virtue profuse. Eyes like pools of reverie, smile and I see my smile in thee there through, truth.
Be not overwhelmed by desire, move along and warm yourselves by the fire. Your soul is guarded by the family and you and I will tell the tale to our progeny.
______________________________________________;
No comments:
Post a Comment